tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-174227132008-07-25T21:47:04.836-04:00Helenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12271344371852988017noreply@blogger.comBlogger274125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17422713.post-36438686956718426252008-07-21T13:25:00.007-04:002008-07-22T15:44:34.848-04:00

Bluefish -- the ultimate test of one's love for fish. Why is its cult-like following so small? Here is my guess. Its flesh is not the sexy orange of salmon or neutral white of halibut. It's brown. Ugly, unappetizing brown. Upscale restaurants don't serve it. Food TV doesn't feature it. If my memory serves me right, I saw it mentioned in a mainstream food magazine only once. But let's get

Helenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12271344371852988017noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17422713.post-77346756640408948922008-07-12T11:42:00.007-04:002008-07-21T18:46:43.137-04:00

What's the connection between soufflés, washing dishes, and capitalism? You'll find out by the end of this post. But lets start with soufflés. They have an undeserved reputation for being finicky and refusing to rise. That's not fair. Soufflés are some of the most obedient and predictable dishes I've ever met. They'll do their part and rise to a beautiful golden crown if you do your part and do

Helenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12271344371852988017noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17422713.post-66046082780989999592008-07-09T09:35:00.003-04:002008-07-10T12:48:05.728-04:00

We've got whole baby beets in our farm-share last week -- leaves, stems, and tiny little ruby red roots. The newsletter we got with the farm-share suggested cooking the whole thing and this got me thinking about the culinary concept of "whole." While I am in complete agreement with the idea that every part of the beet can be eaten, but I think this lovely vegetable deserves a bit more

Helenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12271344371852988017noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17422713.post-46302465306864527652008-06-25T16:20:00.008-04:002008-06-25T18:32:17.051-04:00

There are 2 types of bloggers: the hermits and the party animals. If you've been reading this blog for a while, you might wonder why I never leave comments on your blog or participate in food blogging events. Two things happened in the last couple of years that turned me into an on-line hermit: I left my office job that offered plenty of slow days and nothing to do but surf the web, and I had a

Helenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12271344371852988017noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17422713.post-77382977597850462882008-06-13T09:18:00.004-04:002008-06-13T11:15:27.814-04:00

Shortage of ingredients is a wonderful thing. Don't get me wrong, it's great when I can go to the store and buy whatever is on my shopping list. But availability and creativity and inversely proportional as far as I can tell. How did the French start eating frogs, the Chinese jellyfish, and the Americans lobster? I bet it wasn't out of over-abundance of beef and chicken. It was out of

Helenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12271344371852988017noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17422713.post-62338663436243011532008-06-10T14:22:00.010-04:002008-06-10T14:51:25.981-04:00

"I have something for you," said Frankie. He must have picked up something interesting at the pier that morning. Something that wasn't salmon, trout, sword, halibut, cod, tuna, or sole. "Maybe it's mahi," I thought. "Or if I am really lucky, sable." "I have," Frankie paused gravely, "Bluefin tuna." It took me a few seconds to regain my speech. "No way!" I replied. "Bluefin! Real bluefin?"

Helenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12271344371852988017noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17422713.post-21242749478716122622008-05-22T15:19:00.008-04:002008-05-22T18:31:33.326-04:00

Dear Matthew*, Thank you for bringing me out of the mushroom dark ages and dispelling the myth that getting mushrooms wet is a no-no. I am a liberated woman now. No more wiping, no more brushing, no more scrubbing to get those pesky little pieces of dirt of my fungi! I have to say that I was a bit skeptical at first. After a little googling, I found out about Alton Brown's experiment of

Helenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12271344371852988017noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17422713.post-37420638577250106142008-05-16T10:52:00.010-04:002008-05-22T21:33:55.478-04:00

When you teach cooking classes, people often assume you went to culinary school. I start my reply with "I went to CIA..." This usually follows by respectful head nodding and some level of awe. "For a week," I add. This follows by a raised eyebrow and confusion. To add insult to injury I explain, "that's not where I learned to cook, and to tell you the truth, it was somewhat of a waste of

Helenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12271344371852988017noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17422713.post-57618495480753634762008-05-09T14:43:00.006-04:002008-05-14T14:08:01.095-04:00

This Saturday, I am teaching a tart class. I only started offering it this year, and it quickly became one of my favorites. As you might have figured out from my previous posts, I simply adore tarts. But the ones that bring me the greatest joy are galettes -- free-form bundles of brittle crust swaddling the juicy fruits and berries. Here is an apricot cherry one that just came out of my oven.

Helenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12271344371852988017noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17422713.post-58973832590078957082008-05-06T12:46:00.002-04:002008-05-06T15:22:13.729-04:00

After finally producing a decent basic hearth bread, I decided to venture into the forbidden territory of baking improvisation. My goal was to try to recreate fig anise bread from Sel de la Terre in Boston. Warning: These are just notes to myself so that I remember what to do next time. No story or recipe this time. Sorry. I used Jason's basic hearth bread 2.1 with the following

Helenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12271344371852988017noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17422713.post-12372673513991588392008-04-29T14:25:00.007-04:002008-04-30T16:12:39.906-04:00

Remember the porridge? Yes, the one that Goldilocks found at the table of the Three Bears. Feeding my Baby Bear gave me a whole new appreciation for that porridge. Not because it was steel cut, or organic, or even local. No. That's too sophisticated for us at the moment. The reason that porridge is so near and dear to my heart is that it was in Mama Bear's bowl, Papa Bear's bowl, AND Baby Bear's

Helenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12271344371852988017noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17422713.post-92166553887795149092008-04-28T15:54:00.005-04:002008-04-28T16:46:01.464-04:00

Cranberry Walnut Bread -- another hit from Rose Levy Beranbaum's The Bread Bible. I have only one word for you: cheese course. Hmm, I guess that's really 2 words. But no matter. It is the type of bread traditionally served in French restaurants with the cheese course. Dark, nutty and firm. It gives you enough support for the cheese, but is not so crusty that you have to tag and pull on it

Helenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12271344371852988017noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17422713.post-57645858687377696662008-04-25T14:04:00.005-04:002008-04-25T15:25:18.599-04:00

When it comes to cooking, there is no such thing as too much improvisation. Unless, of course, you are teaching a class. Sure, there are some little substitutions I am happy to make in a class: Spanish mackerel for bluefish, mint for cilantro, rib-eye for New York strip... As long as the basic technique of the dish is the same, I'll throw in pretty much anything. But adding a completely new

Helenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12271344371852988017noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17422713.post-44901355897510901892008-04-22T09:26:00.014-04:002008-05-02T10:50:29.246-04:00

"What are you talking about? I can't teach a cooking class," said Jason shaking his head as if I just proposed something totally naughty. "But it's not a cooking class," I replied. "It's a bread baking class." "Doesn't matter. I can't get up in front of all those people and talk. Why don't you teach it?" he replied hitting the ball back into my court. "Hmm, let me think-- because I don't

Helenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12271344371852988017noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17422713.post-29516346927140365802008-04-15T13:00:00.002-04:002008-04-15T14:57:11.588-04:00

Any recipe whose main ingredient is flour is a bit of an undertaking, in my opinion; but the ones involving flour and yeast are full blown chem labs involving constant vigilance, precision, planning, and organization. So it's no wonder I used to make my own sushi more often than my own pizza crust. It always seemed more work than this most casual of all dinners deserved. My usual pizza dough

Helenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12271344371852988017noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17422713.post-60386586644046563432008-04-11T14:10:00.004-04:002008-04-11T14:43:01.074-04:00

There is nothing like beginner's luck to give you a false sense of confidence. Ever since I started using Rose Levy Beranbaum's The Bread Bible, incredibly yummy things have been coming out of my oven. After playing around with focaccia, brioche, pizza, and scones, I decided to finally try a hearth bread. That's Jason's domain. Last time I tried to make a hearth bread (the kind that is

Helenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12271344371852988017noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17422713.post-6350213284941552042008-04-03T13:42:00.003-04:002008-04-03T13:55:39.095-04:00

I just got some great comments on the rack of lamb post, and I thought I'll highlight a few issues and try to address them. I did post a reply in the comments, but hey -- how many people actually read the comments? Jon: Oh no! The fat/"chewy stuff" is my favorite part! In fact, I know many-a-foodie that agrees with me and absolutely cherishes the fat. Granted, its all personal preference and I

Helenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12271344371852988017noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17422713.post-14647859095077848932008-04-01T12:13:00.006-04:002008-04-01T14:47:13.897-04:00

I was checking out the lamb rib chops at Fresh Pond Market, when the vision of a juicy rack of lamb came to me. "Could you give me a rack not cut into chops?" I asked the butcher. "Sure," he said, "but you have to buy the whole thing. We don't sell it per pound. It's $28 per rack." Taking a whole rack didn't seem like a problem since a rack normally serves two. But since I normally see

Helenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12271344371852988017noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17422713.post-33684734408162159832008-03-28T11:37:00.007-04:002008-03-28T13:51:03.445-04:00

Making stocks is like flossing. It's something everyone should do on a regular basis, it's just that not everyone does. If you make most of your stocks from scratch, I am in awe of your discipline. I usually just reach for a box or a can in my pantry whenever a recipe calls for beef or chicken stock. Maybe that's why I find taking professional cooking classes as inspiring as going to the

Helenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12271344371852988017noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17422713.post-35298673237584682792008-03-18T14:19:00.006-04:002008-03-19T10:36:04.212-04:00

Family dinners with an 8 month old... It's a lovely concept, in principle. You gather around the dinner table, tell each other about little incidents at work and school, plan the weekend outings, the baby is happily munching along through new and interesting tidbits of food you give her, she learns how to eat and socialize, and everyone is having a good time. That's what all my parenting books

Helenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12271344371852988017noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17422713.post-57647252833571223612008-03-13T13:07:00.009-04:002008-03-14T12:40:25.449-04:00

This recipe is based on the chiffon cake from the 1997 edition of the Joy of Cooking. I strongly recommend buying this book and reading not just the recipe, but the whole chapter on cakes. I'll try to include enough detail in this post to make it doable even for bakingly challenged (this includes me, by the way). If I seem anal to you, I am sorry. But that's the level of precision that

Helenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12271344371852988017noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17422713.post-3947904334705137382008-03-11T11:58:00.008-04:002008-03-11T16:21:17.159-04:00

"What's the occasion?" asked Jason. "There is no occasion; that's the beauty of it," I replied. Baking for an occasion is the biggest mistake an innocent cook can make. You know that the world is divided into cooks and bakers, don't you? That's right. According to my theory of Kitchen Neurotic Styles (KNS), there are compulsive measurers and compulsive improvisers, and if you don't have

Helenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12271344371852988017noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17422713.post-68442325121229927472008-02-27T14:31:00.005-05:002008-07-18T10:00:00.808-04:00

"I see -- it's just like rolling a joint," said Lauren. "Right, only legal," I replied slicing through a spicy tuna maki. I knew those Harvard Business School students were fast learners. Since food is the new golf of the business world, the leaders of tomorrow are in the kitchen today, specifically in Helen's Kitchen learning to make sushi. It does not take years of apprenticeship in a sushi

Helenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12271344371852988017noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17422713.post-85404703368763868042008-02-22T11:03:00.004-05:002008-02-23T15:56:48.239-05:00

Driving puts me in this strange meditative state where visions of random ingredients start to appear to me like a mirage. Yesterday, it was oranges. As I was driving to the store to pick up ingredients for this weekend's classes, oranges were dancing in my head. Soon they were joined by spoon-tender short ribs -- that beefiest queen of braising cuts. I was all set to do Lamb Shanks in my Meat

Helenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12271344371852988017noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17422713.post-70259621927055647772008-02-20T10:59:00.007-05:002008-02-20T15:40:08.580-05:00

I called my Mom last friday to double check who is bringing flour, cilantro, and oranges to the vacation house in the Berkshires. "Um, honey... Can I call you back? The photographer from the Baltimore Sun is here." Oh my! This is serious. When Stephen Henderson asked me if he could interview my Mom and Grandma about borscht, I was terribly excited. Russian food is not often noted by

Helenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12271344371852988017noreply@blogger.com