053: Pour Out Your Pony for Lori
Wouder, Wawa, and other Delico delicacies
(JS) Hello again, my sweet readers, I hope you had a lovely long weekend, in spite of the nasty ass weather, unprofessional and unfit tweets, and a technical nightMARE (see what I did there?). If your MDW was anything like mine, you probably found yourself cooped up and catching up on prime reality content in an Airbnb dissimilar enough from the listing pics to rouse your inner Karen and whose primary selling point was its lakeside location, perhaps cursing yourself for wishfully packing almost exclusively t-shirts and shorts. On the bright side, it was chill to spend a weekend indoors with more people than I can count on my fingers. Small victories! (At what point does this line of thinking bleed into toxic positivity?)
Compelled by this swing and a miss of our first (sort of) post-panny holiday weekend, I come to you this week with not one but two recipes loosely inspired by wanderlust. If you can believe it, I’ve got France on the brain, lest you think we only subscribe to one vision of European summer cosplay. Many thanks to all who reached out with office chair recs and gay as in happy pride to those who celebrate. Here’s what I’ve been eating lately:
Ta’ameya, aka herbaceous Egyptian-style fava bean falafel, comfortably shallow fried in someone else’s kitchen (though these can be baked if you must)
Two top notch salmon recipes from the failing New York Times: this smoky and spicy roasted salmon from Lidey Heuck is a great option for those seeking BBQ flavors without BBQ access, and this gochugaru salmon with crispy rice from Eric Kim, if you’re looking to avoid the oven all together
Reduced some obe ata from Egunsi Foods and scrambled some eggs into it (per this tip from founder ‘Yemisi Awosan)
(SB) Readers, readers, readers… somehow it seems to be June. It’s unclear how this happened, but I’ve been busy and unfocused as ever. I have also welcomed in an old friend that I had fallen out of touch with back into my life with open arms: sports. It began with a growing interest in the Mets season (baseball radio? cozy!) and has since bloomed to a full-on immersion in the NBA playoffs. Those following along at home will know that this season has been particularly compelling for a Knicks/Lakers household.
When I attempt to write about the pleasures of watching baseketball, I find that I lapse into a cut-rate Joan Didion impression despite myself. So, I’ll (mostly) refrain from dwelling too much on the poetry of athleticism, the visual pleasure of watching bodies ebb and flow in coordinated formation from above, and the strange disembodied delight of watching fans absolutely lose their minds in unmasked groups… you get the idea. Instead, I’ll devote this mini letter of recommendation on fandom’s lesser known delights: ample opportunity for low-stakes gossip about a consistent set of characters, a heady arbitrary jingoism free from the trappings of nationalism, and a set of things to feel hopeful / despairing about. There are dynasties, narrative arcs, and conspiracy theories. There’s the opportunity to talk shit freely. There is so, so much trivia.Laugh, cry, and consider this an open invitation to text me about both basketball or what you’re eating these days. I’ve been doing some mostly-vegetarian batch cooking to attempt to eat a little better and cheaper despite exclusively wanting to spend my evenings drinking cocktails and eating french fries. This week:
Heidi Swanson cosplay with a big kale salad, green lentils from the Bean Club, and a medley of pan-prepared vegetables (cauliflower with turmeric, caramel-y carrots with paprika, you get the idea.)
A big Thai-ish veggie curry. I mostly freestyled, but took a page out of the Wayla book and added some roasted brussel sprouts. Took a page out of my own book and added some corn. I highly recommend both.
Birria Tacos and consomme from Birria LES… they were extremely good.
TMYK: PISSALADIÈRE
(JS) I’ve never spent time in Nice (always a relatable lede from me!!!), but the tropes I’ve encountered in food writing suggest it’s a prime destination for late afternoon snacking, rich in savory treats served by the slice, often with a cold glass of rose in tow. We’ve previously sung praises of the socca, both in its traditional form sprinkled with sea salt and fresh rosemary, and modern diasporic iterations laced with vegetables from all-day cafes across the US (Sq*rl primary among them). Today I share with you another large-format bake that can be enjoyed fresh from the oven or at room temp: pissaladière.
Despite sounding a bit like a garbled version of “pizza,” Provençal pissaladière is in fact named after pisaalat (from peis salat, “salted fish”), a traditional Niçoise condiment made by layering anchovies and sardines with salt, spices, and herbs then fermenting for 45 days and pressing through a sieve. (SB: Also what I call pizza after one too many afternoon rose.) I’ve never tasted the stuff myself, but a little googling suggests something thicker and more paste-like than colatura, the Amalfi anchovy sauce thought to have descended from ancient Roman garum. (Note to self: liking tinned fish and its derivatives is still not a solid substitute for a personality.) Although this was historically the ingredient that gave tart its name, most recipes for pissaladière on the internet today are onion-forward, layering deeply caramelized alliums over a yeasted dough, which is then decorated with an elegant pattern of anchovies and olives to replicate that original umami profile.
Some recipes will swap in a puff-pastry base, but the yeasted, olive-oil enriched dough comes together rather easily, and tends to hold up better if you’re preparing your pissaladiere ahead of time. After baking, the tart should have taken on a bit of color, while still maintaining some chewiness – you want something slightly thicker than pizza, in the style of a fougasse. The onions must be cooked down before baking to remove most of their moisture (they’ll take on more color in the oven), offering a jammy sweetness that contrasts the salty fish and olives. Most recipes call for slowly browning them on the stovetop in olive oil with a bit of thyme for at least an hour (I loosely followed this one from Saveur), though I’m intrigued by this 2001 BA version that slowly roasts the onions in olive oil and butter instead. As for the anchovies, the standard photo finish involves laying whole fillets in a diamond pattern with an olive at the center of each, though one could certainly take a more rustic approach, chopping them and scattering across the surface, or even melting them directly into the onion mixture. This Serious Eats recipe swears by soaking the anchovies in milk to soften them and cut down on saltiness, though another post on the very same site tested milk and water-soaked anchovies, revealing no noticeable difference (a white wine soak, on the other hand, sounds worth a try). Niçoise olives are the standard here, but you could easily sub in another brine-cured varietal like kalamatas, or even the green picholine if you don’t mind ruffling some traditional Provençal feathers. Typically this is baked in the range of 425-475°F, so not quite the hellmouth temperatures necessary for pizza, but still on the hotter side – tempt mother nature this week and crank up your oven one last time, and perhaps the weather will finally turn.
Naughty Fusion: Chaos Eggplant Bake
(SB) On Sunday afternoon, in between basketball games and loath to leave my apartment in the rain, I texted Jake asking for ideas about what I might make with some eggplant. He sent back this David Tanis recipe for an intriguing, tomato-free, anchovy-topped bake with ricotta and provolone. I didn’t have any provolone, but was otherwise stocked, and decided to give it a go. A trip to my kitchen revealed that I in fact also had run out of anchovies (please note their omission here is not a concession to the virulent anti-anchovy mob in the recipe comments) and also didn’t have any mozzarella. I did, however, have paneer and several cured, salty, spicy elements that could be substituted in; these substitutions constitute such significant departures from the original vision that I essentially did make an entirely different, happily vegetarian, recipe. I’ll spare you all the NYT-Commenter treatment, and write it up as such.
I started by slicing a rather large eggplant into disks; about halfway through I realized that slicing it lengthwise was really the better move for the lasagna-like layers I envisioned. The first layer of eggplant went into an oiled, square baking dish and I blasted them with some olive oil spray (JS: Ozone who?). My inner child, raised on Rachel Ray, rejoiced. Then, I spread a hefty dollop of ricotta over the slices, added some crumbled paneer, sliced onions, sweet corn, a handful of Mexican-blend shredded cheese, and salted it all lightly. I layered on a second round of eggplant slices, similarly slicked with aerated olive oil, and topped with the same treatment. In lieu of the anchovies, I topped the mixture with chopped olives, capers, and some sliced pickled hot peppers that I found on Brighton Beach (I think you could easily substitute pepperoncini or Calabrian chiles for those to great success). I finished with a healthy handful of shaved parm.
The whole mixture went into a 375° oven for around 40 minutes, until the cheeses were bubbling and the eggplant was soft. I couldn’t resist peaking along the way, and was particularly tickled by the paneer’s success: my crumbles had browned and turned savory in that way paneer does when cooked in a hot tava. I followed David Tanis’ advice and let my bake sit out for about 20 minutes before digging in, and I was pretty pleased: something about white cheese, corn, and spicy peppers reminded me of a dish the Pizza Hut in Bangalore might have served in 1996. David serves his with tomato salad; I ate mine standing up directly from the pan. No complaints here, and I’m looking forward to leftovers.
GLD: Yogurt Cake
(JS) I know snacking cakes are all the rage these days, but I’m compelled to remind y’all of the crucial if somewhat unsung category of breakfast cakes. Often disguised as quickbreads (or muffins, which – no shade – are really just dressed down cupcakes), these err on the not so sweet side, and are often laced with some fresh fruit, nuts, or a combination of the two. One such example is the yogurt cake, a one-bowl staple of French home baking beloved for its simplicity and malleability. At the risk of promoting the culinary equivalent of “French girl style,” I’ll relay with some skepticism that numerous write ups for this cake (most notably Dorie Greenspan) attribute its popularity to the fact that you’re basically just mixing a few common pantry items then baking, a far cry from the labor intensive treats of the country’s beloved patisseries. Moreover, if you’ve got access to the right (read: French) brand of yaourt, Clotilde of Chocolate & Zucchini explains you can skip the standard ~ European ~ practice of scaling your ingredients, and use the empty 120-ml tub to measure everything out instead. Je suppose this technique is not seulement practique, but also un petit queer.
Both recipes cited offer room for improvisation – I’ve made versions of Dorie’s cake with and without almond flour, swapping zests, glazes, and even the namesake yogurt for the likes of sour cream or creme fraiche, in attempt to use up whatever’s been lingering in the fridge. This go around, I went with Clotilde’s, hoping to finally use up my freezer hoard of garden raspberries from last summer (a weed grows in Brooklyn). I found myself with some 2 percent Fage and a bit of whole milk that was on its way out, combining the two for something aspiring to the fat content and consistency of le prized French yaourt. Lacking almond flour, I subbed in some oat flour and a bit of almond extract. Otherwise I basically stuck to script, whisking my wet ingredients then sifting the dry ones over and folding them in. 300 grams of raspberries seemed aggressive so I held back a bit, but in retrospect I think I could’ve gone whole hog, especially because the oat flour was more absorbent than almond. At any rate, the resulting cake was a delightful little affair considering how quickly it came together, and a refreshing change for petit dejeuner during this otherwise extremely blah week.
PERMANENT ROTATION: We’d be remiss not to share a little spin on the official drink of Pride (cold brew) for our first newsletter in June, so, go ahead, throw some roses & cardamom in those grounds as a treat. Love wins!
WISH LIST
(JS) I’ve been desperate to try iru or dawa dawa (fermented locust bean) ever since I came across this recipe from Zoe Adjonyoh which adds it to chocolate cake. I’ve had trouble finding the spice at my usual haunts, but Burlap & Barrel just dropped a second batch of their sold-out iru, produced in collaboration with chef and writer Tunde Wey.
(SB) Friend of the letter Aanchal recently sang the praises of this black pepper finishing sauce from Vermont-based Bittersweet Herb Farm and I’ll let you all know that I’m influenced and intrigued!
(JS & SB) Kick off “is he hot or is he just wearing a backwards hat” season with an official cap from the Barefoot Contessa herself!
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