![]() These fritters are an homage to the perfect little hometown restaurant we had in our shoreline Connecticut town growing up in the 80s. A place where everybody knew our name, where you could pop in casually for a wholesome lunch, or count on it for a suitably festive and elegant special occasion dinner. I've been thinking a lot about food of that era lately. As a kid I was permitted to tag along on many grownup restaurant dates, luncheons and dinner parties, giving me the chance to try copious amounts of new foods, many definitely not considered on the childrens' menu. I remember these new tastes and textures more vividly than I do where I was or who I was with (go figure.) But what is most interesting to me in hindsight, is that what was 80s nouvelle cuisine, was in many ways using a huge amount of the same ideas of locavore cooking now--using the freshest possible ingredients, lighter sauces or preparation to let the produce or proteins really be the focus, an overall lighter, fresher, more in-the-moment way of cooking. The only difference being that then it seemed revolutionary and nouvelle, while today it is seen as a return to the basics. This fritter is exactly in keeping with that. The freshest possible ingredients, at the height of their season, minimally dressed up. In the 80s something like this seemed very exotic, today it feels like the perfect, summer, wholesome appetizer, right out of a Deborah Madison book. And plus...ding! ding! ding!...it is something to do with all of those zucchini piling up on your counters, that you perhaps might be starting to resent in just the slightest way. ![]() | ||||||||||||||||
![]() Move over scallions. I may have to cheat on you. My love affair with dim sum scallion pancakes is no secret. There are few times I can think of when they don't appeal to me. (or make me start to go all Pavlovian as I even type the words.) Though green and doing very well, the scallions planted in my garden are still about the size of glorified dental floss and won't be serving up any exotic savories for a few weeks. However, we do have garlic scapes! And herbs! Lots of both! Scallions? Who needs scallions? While not exactly a necessity, (more of an insatiable craving), mother invention shone down and offered up this bright, summery, mildly garlicky, herby, southeast Asian-inspired perfection on a greasy paper towel. There is a tremendous (and tremendously cheap) hole-in-the-wall dumpling shop in NYC's Chinatown, to which I make frequent pilgrimages. Alongside their dumplings, they have a monstrous cast iron pan in which they make a very similar sesame pancake. You can get a pizza-slice-sized wedge "stuffed with veggies" for $1.25, which is split laterally and crammed with shredded carrot and chopped cilantro leaves and stems. There was definitely some inspiration from there in this as well. Give these a try, using all that summer is offering up right now. Shredded zucchini, carrot or beet, torn squash blossoms, thyme, sage, thinly sliced chard could all be welcome additions. Fried dough + farm fresh herbs and produce = What could possibly be bad? (more…) | ||||||||||||||||
Scallion pancakes. Oh how I love thee.
![]() These remarkable, little chewy, salty, scallion-y, layered disks of oily crunchy heaven completely stole my heart when I first had them my first year living in the city a decade and a half ago. Often I would grab a late night snack of scallion pancakes and dumplings on my way home from rehearsal near midnight, back when my metabolism could handle such an indulgence. On our honeymoon in China three years ago, I stumbled upon a mirage-like goddess making scallion pancakes on a narrow back street in Beijing. ![]() Just look at the size of that pan! We got a New York pizza slice-sized wedge (see the table on the right), wrapped loosely in wax paper, that the newlyweds pawed at, stopped dead on the street, like malnourished tiger cubs. Who got the last bite should have gone in a prenup. Too recently I discovered that these treasures are not all that difficult to make yourself--however dangerous it could be to embark upon in the privacy of your own home. Proceed with caution. The management is not responsible for the abandonment of any new year's resolutions. But if only in honor of Chinese New Year, give these a try. The rolled out, uncooked, pancakes can be layered in slightly floured wax paper and stored in the refrigerator wrapped in plastic for about twenty-four hours, and then finished in a frying pan for two minutes on each side. Do we hear a great Year of the Rabbit themed Super Bowl appetizer? ![]() | ||||||||||||||||
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