047: Dazed, Peckish, and Confused
Belated 4/20 tips from the senate majority leader, your dad, and other aspiring MJ influencers to whom you'd just say no
(JS) Well, sweet readers, we meet again. I don’t know about y’all but the past few days have left me with a resolute feeling of “so… what now?” Yesterday somehow managed to outdo last year as the weirdest 4/20 of my lifetime, what with Chuck and Nancy clowning on main amidst a backdrop of awkwardly celebrated legalization in New York and an outpouring of emotions in response to the verdict out of Minneapolis. As I write this, the unnerving thrum of helicopters above my apartment reminds me what a small and in many ways flawed victory this conviction represents in the enduring struggle for racial justice. I’m confused by the sweeping compulsion to post The New York Times headline to grid, and wonder (perhaps hypocritically out loud, on Al Gore’s internet) if some of us might be better served by taking a moment to process.
At the very least I’m now doubly vaxxed, and for a solid 36 hours Miss Moderna took me out; never in my life have I felt so good to feel so bad, though it’s still hard to digest what my personal antibody cocktail will mean in a global economy plagued by vaccine patents. April is the most ambivalent month, I suppose.
A few things I’ve been eating lately:
Fava (in fact, yellow split peas), enjoyed warm with sourdough sumac flatbreads, chopped shallots, capers and lemon; leftovers were served room temp with some italian tuna and olives
A full vax recovery day’s worth of noodle soups, including instant ramen and tom yum from Look by Plant Love House
A savory take on Briana Holt’s unbeatable scone recipe, with feta, dill, scallions, and a touch of zhoug
(SB) Wonderful readers, it feels a little like the last couple of weeks passed in the blink of an eye. Our usual mid-week meeting went unmarked for the first time in many moons, but much else stayed the same in my life. Around us, the inexorable passage of time continued: DMX tributes spilled out from stereos around the city, Mayoral hopeful’s auditioned for everyone’s favorite call-in radio program, and we continued to the weather continued to promise a more hospitable atmosphere to gather, tentatively and hopefully, in the wake of unclear and conflicting viral news. After bracing for the worst, I feel like many others after news of Derek Chauvin’s conviction yesterday: contemplating the limits of justice by court, mourning the continued loss of life to racial violence in this country, and really tired.
Springtime has felt complicated for me this year: my brain and its stubborn chemistry have not yet caught up with all of that life pushing forth from the ground. I’m struggling to be present in the moment while worrying about people I love. As it turns out, there’s nothing like a little reminder of global vaccine inequities to really spoil a sunny day. I’ve been thinking a lot about where I was a year ago, and find the moment marked most vividly by ramp season. In the midst of those heady and terrifying Tiger King-Window-Clapping days, the ramps felt like a small triumph: tender, sweet, and filling my kitchen with the aromas of garlic. We made ramp pesto, used the scraps for broth, enjoyed ramp butter on toast, yelled “ramps!” out the window into the alleyway for no particular reason. Those moments of stolen joy feel really far away from me, emotionally inaccessible through a fog I might otherwise have missed. I’m looking for a way out of it while also making space for the reality of its existence.
Here’s what I ate this week:
The festive, playful, and fun 9-course tasting menu from our friends Sarah & Will at Tannat. I extremely recommend it as an extravagant (and yet reasonably priced!) treat. Highlights included hush puppies in a yogurt sauce and an extremely fragrant mushroom miso and ramp broth.
Rice based stir fries abounded in my kitchen this week, including an improvised brussel sprout, gochujang and brown rice number, and last night, a peanut sauce fried rice courtesy of Willis.
And last, but certainly not least, some oven-roasted gnocchi (store-bought, refrigerated) with just-wilted ramps, a little soppressata, Calabrian chiles, and lots of cheese.
GLD: Blondies, Two Ways
(JS) Forever the bridesmaid to the uncontested darling of the dessert bar kingdom, blondies struggle from a bit of an identity crisis: the best versions aspire to the texture of a fudgy brownie, though they often fall flat in terms of flavor, lacking the richness provided by chocolate. The vanilla option, both in literally and figuratively, requires a mix-in or two at the very least to make it worth my while, preferably something bold, bitter, and/or salty to counter a potentially off-putting saccharine profile. Today I offer you two suggestions for blondies with character.
The first, perhaps unsurprisingly, comes from this newsletter’s resident brownie queen Deb Perelman, a nearly one-bowl infinitely adaptable formula you can easily commit to memory thanks to simple measurements. Melt a stick of butter – brown it if you’ve got the time, or nuke it if that’s more your speed – then whisk in a cup of brown sugar (light or dark) until smooth and slightly cooled. Whisk in an egg, a teaspoon of vanilla, and a hefty pinch of salt. Stir in a cup of flour and at least a cup of mix ins of your choosing. I quite like a semi sweet chip or a dark chocolate chunk, as well as a nice glug of bourbon – a handful of walnuts or pecans could take these in a vaguely Derby pie direction, but I’m somewhat embarrassed to admit I prefer my blondies without a crunch, save for some finishing salt. Scrape into a prepared 8x8 pan, smooth, sprinkle heavily with flaky salt and bake at 350°F for 20 to 22 minutes, erring on the side of underdone. They’ll firm up upon cooling, but you’ll likely want to house these warm, preferably with a pint of Haagen Dazs vanilla in tow. In the before times, I’d turn to Deb’s quick and dirty recipe for impromptu weeknight gatherings or a midweek office pick me up, a compelling argument that blondes may sometimes in fact have more fun.
If Deb’s version draws inspiration from a gooey chocolate chip cookie, Melissa Weller’s blondies, studded with milk chocolate and swirled with raspberry jam, loosely flirt with the flavors of rugelach. I will admit I wasn’t immediately sold on these, but in the name of research I bravely ate my way through half the pan over the course of two days before deciding they’re probably Worth a Try™️. The recipe is written for an 8 x 12 inch pan, a size I’ve frankly never encountered, so I scaled it down by a third for an 8 x 8. Overall I’d describe this recipe as slightly more finicky than Deb’s approach, but not preventatively so. Melissa calls for salted butter, which I also did not have – I browned my beloved Beurremont butter instead, and went heavy on the finishing salt. My jam swirls were more like puddles, but taste wise I don’t think it really mattered. The main difference with these babies is the edge to middle variation: the edges rose significantly and firmed up considerably, nearly approaching crunchy. If I were to remake these I’d pull them earlier, and I’d be keen to experiment with additional mix ins; alternating dollops of almond butter and jam might be fun, or perhaps some granola butter for my nut free fam.
POT CHEF: Hopes so High, Expectations Dashed
(SB) Readers of the newsletter will know that dosing properly can be tricky when you’re drinking your cannabis. Most recently, you may remember my brush with a delicious and potent golden milk that sent me to sleep for 14 hours. Mercifully, I was spared the full Maureen Dowd and merely emerged with some of my mounting sleep debt paid back.
This week, inspired by the holiday and the beguiling writings of marijuana mixologist Warren Bobrow, I wanted to try my hand at an even more dangerous infusion experience: booze and bud. If you were a high school toker, you’re likely familiar with some version of “green dragon”– a few buds of weed thrown into a bottle of cheap liquor (most often Everclear) and consumed irresponsibly. For those unfamiliar, the mixture was both disgusting and dangerous. In the hands of those of legal drinking age and in possession of more refined palates, the marijuana cocktail seems to have come a long way: Bobrow’s signature Mezzrow cocktail combines bourbon and infused vermouth, clearly reflecting a desire to account for taste beyond the teenage skater community. Inspired, I was quickly scheming on a way to adapt some of the techniques Bobrow described for small-batch use. I rarely want to take culinary chances with the amount of flower most edible recipes call for… could I find a way to make just a couple of cocktails worth of THC-infused gin to pair with a light and floral vermouth?
I began by de-carbing just about a generous buds worth of Forbidden Fruit indica. For those not in the know, decarbing involves heating flower in order to “activate” some of its psychoactive properties before infusing. Bobrow is an enthusiast; the process is particularly crucial for cold infusions. The most efficient way to decarb a good amount of flower is low and slow in the oven. Because that seemed impractical for just a nug, I attempted a stove-top version by throwing my ground up flower in a mason jar and immersing it (weighted) in some water that was coming to a simmer. (It’s important to submerge the jar before the water is too hot so it doesn’t shatter.) After about 90 minutes, removed the mason jar and added about ¾ of a cup of Brooklyn Greensmith gin. If you’re in a rush, many blogs recommend placing the infusing jar in a gentle double boiler, set to a temperature low enough not to boil off your alcohol for a time. I still had a good 30 hours before 4/20, though, and had vowed to write as much of this letter as possible before sampling my wares. So, I put the gin in a warm bath and left it overnight.
In the morning, I replaced the water from the hot tap. A few fateful moments later, as I sipped cold brew and squinted at Slack in a different room, my sweet and handsome partner awoke and busied himself with the vital and important work of doing the dishes. To his mild disgust, there seemed to be a moldy and purple jar of gin in a bowl in the sink. Mildly disturbed but efficient, he emptied the contents of the bowl down the sink.
You can perhaps guess the conclusion of this domestic Rashomon story. I have no idea how my infusion turned out. I mourn the loss of that pretty purple bud. After the events of some weeks ago, I cannot help but wonder if this was deus ex machina, saving me from myself.
GIVE PEAS A CHANCE
(JS) At this newsletter we proffer suggestions that are just a little outside the box, often in ways that make you think. You know – why not blondies instead of brownies, or infused spirits poured down the drain on the unofficial weed holiday – things you might call ironic in the Alanis sense, which is to say nothing of the dictionary definition. The once in a while reader might expect a ramp feature this week, given their ever shrinking window of availability due to ramp-ant (oh!) overharvesting and our avowed adoration for seasonal pleasures, but once again I’m going to push you just a bit outside your comfort zone!* Instead I come before you with the simple request that you give peas a chance.
The humble English pea offers a delicate pop of sweet spring flavor. If you can find these babies in-shell, scoop ‘em up and keep them in their pods until you’re ready to use them – preparing them is a relatively mindless and almost calming task, far less laborious than shelling fresh fava beans, for instance. Sweet peas require little more than a bit of butter and salt for easy eating, though they also pair wonderfully with fragrant herbs of all sorts; a minted pea soup, served chilled or warm in a shot glass, is a most beloved bite of 90’s elegance. You can slip them into a hearty parmesan-fortified risotto for an exquisitely named risi e bisi. Or you can take a tip from my Finnish (I know, can you believe?) great grandmother and enjoy your peas in an omelet.
Delicate meets delicate in this quick preparation; I think there is a proper time and place for a well done omelet, and that’s at a diner, overstuffed, with crispy ass home fries and heaps of buttered toast. In this case, we’re aiming for a pale and pastel yellow, just past the point of setting, though don’t let the light appearance preclude you from adding a little body: if you wanted to add a splash of half and half or even a little mascarpone to your eggs, I wouldn’t stop you! Whisk your eggs, season with salt, then pour into a buttered pan, agitating for an even-ish cook. Once the edges start to set, add your peas along the diameter and a sprinkle of freshly chopped mint (feel free to sub or supplement with whatever herbs you have kicking around), then gently fold into thirds. Top with additional mint, and – if you’re a glutton like myself – a dollop of sour cream. I’m not sure how Nanny Byer plated her omelets, but I recently came across her recipe for “strudel dough” made of butter, vanilla ice cream, and flour, so I have a feeling she wouldn’t object.
*The ramps feature will probably come next week, courtesy of my co-editor
PERMANENT ROTATION: Julia Turshen’s luscious vegan pelau from her new cookbook Simple Pleasures has already earned a spot in my (SB) permanent rotation.
WISH LIST
(JS) Given this newsletter’s history with somewhat haphazard dosing over the course of quar’, I’ve found a new appreciation for the legalized edible market. I’m particularly intrigued by the lokum-inspired treats from Los Angeles-based Rose Delights, where seasonal ingredients are paired with single-strain flower rosin, often in collaboration with inventive pastry chefs. Natasha Pickowicz’s recent rollout with Gossamer combines kiwi, oro blanco, and a hint of celery, plus snazzy packaging with illustrations from her mom!
(SB) This past weekend, I got to experience some of the organizational magic of the Living Pantry’s most recent hygiene kit build at the new Bluestockings Bookstore space. It was a really exuberant and efficient operation that reminded me both of how essential mutual aid still is and how expensive hygiene staples like deodorant, shampoo, and razors can be. The Living Pantry distributes all of the above, plus diapers, other supplies, and both shelf-stable and fresh food from their home at the Living Gallery in Bushwick every Monday at 1 p.m.. You can support by buying something off their wishlist, Venmoing @thejunglejane. You can follow @the_living_pantry on Instagram for more information on direct donation asks!
(JS & SB) How about some uppers to go with your downers? As year round iced coffee drinkers, we’re often looking for ways to vary our chilled morning brew. With the weather heating up, we’re hankering to try Doris Hồ-Kane’s Cà Phê Da Ua Đá (iced Vietnamese yogurt coffee), and would love to get our hands on a ceramic phin from BiarBen and Nguyen Coffee Supply.
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