Z and I agree on this one. The best meal that we have ever eaten in a restaurant together is definitely at Zengo in Denver. We ate there the February 27, 2008. It was the night before our rehearsal and subsequent wedding on the 29th. Yes, we know we got married on leap day and no, we have no idea what day to celebrate our anniversary but that is beside the point. We ate there during 5280 restaurant week. Most cities have a restaurant week where everyone advertises a prix fixe menu of 3 courses at a set price, a starter, main and dessert. There are limited options to choose from but the choices are almost always something your average foodie would like to eat. We both had the chile encrusted steak, a tenderloin of beef so succulent my mouth waters just thinking about it. The stage set for this beef was ‘Oaxacan’ mashed potatoes (we are unable to unearth the meaning behind Oaxacan, is it cheese?) and grilled asparagus. I had an amazing tuna hand roll that was flash fried in tempura and a molten chocolate type desert with a back note of chile.
September is Magical Dining Month (!yes, a whole month) in Orlando, with many restaurants participating in three course prix fixe menus at $20 and $30 per person. Our dilemma is that we are going to Denver this month for a vacation and looking forward to meals in some of our favorite restaurants, both dives and maybe, a fine meal or two that would give Zengo a run for it’s money.
Category: backstory
catch of the day
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So, I shamefacedly admit that I make a point of watching Deadliest Catch. It is about a bunch of foul mouthed and unwashed but hardworking and courageous men who fish the Bering Sea in Alaska. I have more than once wondered why I am so engaged by it and all of it’s true reality show glory. It could be the fight for food or the fact that I know every man on these ships is truly living their dreams and is locked into a reality that makes me weak in the knees.
Today, we were at Whole Foods picking up some cheese, chocolate and olives and I saw that there is an ale honoring Captain Sig of the ship, Northwestern. His ship and Norwegian mug gracing each bottle with engaging charm. Cheers!
santa fe burger
Had a few girls over from Wycliffe last night for dinner. One is a friend who I have worked with almost a year and is leaving soon for a year abroad to serve at the London City Mission. She is a recent UCF grad and has fostered my interest in blogging, egging me on to bigger and better things. One is an intern who is leaving next week to head back to school and I can see a bit of myself in her. One is someone I just wanted to get to know better and did on the fly. From the last one I had a short lesson in photography which should help my food shots to be more interesting and besides the new friendship I am really excited about that. It was small enough to be able to talk and I could still make dinner on my own with just a tiny bit of help from Z who is recovering from surgery. I am going to invite people more often, although I find, it comes with it’s price. For now, it is as much as I can do.
We made the Sante Fe Burger, roasted poblano peppers, blue corn chip crumbles and monterey jack queso top this burger dolloped with chipotle ketchup underneath. Z felt the cheese sauce a little bland and I would agree with that. If I made it again I’d use pepper jack. We ate it with Alexia sweet potato fries on the side. They were a nice contrast to the burger and gave a pop of sweet flavor and color.
an open pantry…
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Yesterday during our departmental devotions we did some singing. It wasn’t the usual short reading or the achingly familiar Above All or I Could Sing Of His Love Forever but songs from the older (late 70’s-early 80’s?) hymnals, always called ‘The Red Book’ at our house. This brought back memories of walking up our long driveway on my way frome from school and hearing my mom through the pop-bottle glass entry windows pounding out hymns on the piano while she practiced for Sunday morning church. It got me thinking about my heritage and the richness that I have from my everyday life.I habitually buy books that are memoirs of food and cooking, of cooking and travel, or cooking philosophy. I have been reading a book called ‘The United States of Arugula’ and that talks about the evolution of food in America. From homespun and hearty to processed and now back to ‘house-made’ and organic, fresh and seasonal. It is interesting to me to see where I got my love of cooking and if it came from my family or pop culture.I never thought of my mom as particularly adventurous but I’m not sure why this is. It may be that she would turn out solid ‘meat and two veg w/ a roll’ type dinners. My mom is a great cook and I do not ever remember anything being burnt or undercooked. It was always perfectly cooked. It may be why I like perfectly cooked vegetables and toasty bread and meat that isn’t dry or charry. She tuned my tastebuds in a way that gives a sort of food memory. I could list the many dinners and awe inspiring fried breakfasts but the list would be endless. My dad is a seeker of new muffin, cookie and soup recipes. He would take his turn cooking at Church Sunday-night lunches when in other families it was only the ladies who did the cooking. I have always been really proud of that.
Even the thought of a fried breakfast brings my mind to my Grandma and Grandpa Leavitt. They had 9 (NINE!) kids. I cannot imagine the amount of food that they would have gone through. Whenever I would be so lucky as to spend the night at their house I could always count on multiple fried eggs, bacon, sausage, and piles of toast. But even more fantastic was their pantry. I aspire to such things. They had a large house with a large (3+ cars) garage and a shop as well as a large pantry in the basement. It held jars of shimmering jellies, thick jams, applesauce and tomatoes. Food that came free for the gathering at neighbors, friends or the side of the road. Foraging is an amazing thing about the greater Seattle area. I aspire to a pantry and foraging skill like this.
But the piece de resistance was the flour drawer. There was a drawer in my Grandma’s kitchen that holds only flour. Not bags of flour, or types of flour. Just free floating masses of dusty white flour sifting gently through the air. Every grandkid (and there are in the neighborhood of 28 of us) has spent time swishing grubby fingers in that flour, made biscuits or cream puffs, cookies or gravy with that flour. It was a symbol of plenty and of comfort and of home. The modern vanity kitchen would have a wine fridge or espresso machine but this was a bit of vanity in a home built for family in the 70’s.
My Grandma James was a southern cook. Raised in Texas, she always had a Pyrex 6 cup measure on the counter full of tea bags and sugar steeping for sweet tea. While she made the traditional turkey with giblet gravy she also was one of the first people I knew with a microwave (!? yes really!) and used to microwave a piece of toast for my sister and I with a slice of colby melted on top. Not exactly gourmet and it embarrassed my mother that we acted like we were always hungry when we got there so that my Grandma would make us this funny treat. From this Grandma I acquired a family recipe of Twice Baked Potatoes that I have now become required to make for holiday family meals at my parents house. She also taught me her recipes for Raspberry Cheesecake and Apricot Tarts and I don’t think anyone could make them like she did.
What am I taking out of this? The pride behind a home-cooked meal-there is nothing better than to do this for people and take care while I do it. Innovation and new ideas bring interest while old favorites bring comfort. Freshness and seasonality don’t have to be out of reach and can be found with a little extra elbow grease. My pantry will always be open. I hope that the shelves will be full of interest and heart.
Peyton comes to town
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We got to meet Peyton Ann a week or ten days ago when my sister and her brood winged their way to Orlando for a summer vacation. Six of them strong they descended on our two bedroom apartment ready for the beach, fishing, the pool and a few attractions.
She is my new little niece, born on my first anniversary, February 28th. She is quite lovely and pink and seems to like both Brian and myself very nicely thank you. She cries if you let her lie there alone and dearly loves to be held.
Smiling at me as we sat under a big umbrella on a sandy towel at the beach. She gurgled her way across the lake in her tiny lifevest as we boated through choppy waters. Sleeping and smiling in her sling at Gatorland with a goat in her face nosing her for food in the petting zoo. And wide eyed at the tiny Mickey Mouse Ears in Downtown Disney.
She got a taste of adventure and fun with us that she will only remember from photos and I will remember in my heart.
My Urban Pantry 