In Search of Spice

The dregs of winter are upon us, friends. As with every season, there's a bright side and a Deathstar side and while winter seems more frequently placed in the stormtrooper's camp, I'm not about to write it off so simply. We're just digging out of the biggest blizzard in at least a decade and just when you think that aforementioned light might be buried the deepest, you remember it is snow after all. My neighbors seem to shine the brightest when reflected off all that white.


Everyone's smiling like third graders with their rusty shovels and their shiny stories. Digging each other's cars out, complimenting canine footwear, making snow creatures. We're at our best when winter's at its worst. This is where we secure the bragging rights that take us through the rest of the year and we'll all be tuckered if New York is going to hijack our rightful, wintered glory.

It's not all ponies though, there's the cabin fever, as well. Cabin fever and its deeply disturbed cousin complacency. Get off my couch, complacency. For the last few weeks it hasn't mattered as much because I've been running around the country so the couch and its sleepy occupant were left to their own devices while I was in Denver and Nashville (oh be still my heart after all this time). I head to DC on Monday and Montreal next week and Orlando a week after that. I'm taking in a lot of views like this one (on descent toward Denver).


The truth is, I am so much happier when I'm speeding around trying new things and places and people. That need not be relegated to when I'm on the road- is anyone else prone to constantly finding greener grass in other pastures? Because I spent an evening at No. 308 in East Nashville and had myself convinced for days that there wasn't anything like it in Chicago. And while that might be true for Robert's, I can get my Mumford & Sons/Jackson 5 dance party on at the Whistler (or anywhere else in Logan Square) not 10 minutes from my wicked front door. It's not the same but it's a similar breed of smoke. Now I'm rambling (HA- you probably called that 10 minutes ago). Blame it on the Deathstar but I need to be spicing things up on the home front a little more and I am nothing if not overly literal.


On a snowy Sunday in Old Town after many lists and recommendations, I bit the bullet and totally refreshed my spice rack at The Spice House. I had a coupon for 15% off and was already partial to their simple labels and careful quality. Most of my spices had been traveling with me since my four year stint in Oxford, Ohio. Ground spices are only meant to last for a year according to Cooks Illustrated so I was pushing my luck seven times over. Felt really good to just toss everything and start fresh and for less than $70, I managed the following:

• Garam Masala Curry Mixture
• Ground Ginger (China Number One)
• Aleppo Pepper, Crushed
• Ground Cumin
• Ground Organic Turmeric
• Whole Coriander Seeds
• Granulated Garlic Powder
• Saffron, Spanish Superior Grade (1 gram- a little goes a long way)
• Spanish Smoked Paprika, Hot
• Hungarian Sweet Paprika
• Curry Powder, Sweet
• Organic Saigon "Cassia" Cinnamon
• Mustard Powder, Medium Heat
• Ground Cloves
• Whole Fennel Seeds
• Whole Black Tellicherry Peppercorns
• Dried California Parsley Flakes
• Organic Dill Weed
• Ukrainian Village Seasoning
  

Now what to do with all this bounty? A few ideas.

My favorite snack/salad topper. Chickpeas rinsed, patted dry and roasted for 12 minutes at 400 in a very light coating of extra virgin olive oil. Once they're out, spice as you like but my personal blend is Aleppo pepper, sweet paprika, curry powder, turmeric and Maldon smoked salt (which I put on everything these days). If you line your baking sheet with foil, cleanup is a breeze. These are the best.

Another new neighborhood favorite- The Butcher & Larder - has opened its doors and relieved us of what was once a neighborhood desert for sustainable, ethically raised meat. I took home two of their house sausages, broke them up then sauteed with tomatoes, Aleppo pepper, garlic powder, dried parsley and some sage I found clinging to our plant in the garden (very hearty plant, noted). Served with a pillow of fresh Pecorino atop roasted spaghetti squash.

My other B&L purchase- a lean shoulder cut of beef. Covered in Ukrainian Village Seasoning, seared on all sides in a cast iron pan then popped in the oven till medium rare (about 7 minutes at 425).

And finally, an actual recipe. Because this is about to change your roasted sweet potatoes and then it will move on to charm everything else it touches like fat slices of toasted Italian bread or root vegetables. Based on a recipe of Paula Wolfert's. I got really lucky and discovered it just in time for dinner with my friend Janine, the brains/beauty behind Rustic Kitchen.

Moroccan Spiced Butter

½ teaspoon of Maldon smoked salt
4 spring onions, white part only, chopped (reserve the green bits for something lovely)
2 cloves of garlic, chopped
1 heaped teaspoon of smoked paprika
1 tablespoon of cumin seeds
1 teaspoon of coriander seeds
1 teaspoon of fennel seeds
½ teaspoon of hot chili powder
Small handful of parsley, chopped

½ cup of unsalted butter, room temperature

Using a mortar and pestle, crush the sea salt, spring onions, garlic and spices to make a paste. Add the parsley, and pound until quite smooth. Chop the butter roughly and pound it into the paste until well combined. Form the butter into a log, wrap tightly, and place in the fridge to rest till it gets its bearings.

Calypso's Black Bean Salad a la To Kiss the Cook

I've been on a bit of a nostalgic run lately, revisiting places and foods attached to previous lifetimes. I promise, I'm not looking to go back. I read a journal entry or two and I quickly realize that those times held as much complexity as these do, maybe more.

That being said, I think we can all do for a retracing of steps from time to time, or a retracing of crumbs in my case. I follow flavors all kinds of places. They really do all seem to have a taste attached.

The taste in this case is the unexpected combination of sweet and spice in Calypso Cafe's Black Bean Salad. It may sound familiar because I've raved about it in both of my Nashville posts (most recently, Sunday). Having now covered the recreation of Smashed Salmon Salad as my favorite dish in my actual college town, I'm moving on to my favorite forkful from my adopted college town.

There is absolutely no sophistication here. I cannot tell you why I'm so attached to it other than it is a) reminiscent of an uncertain time that turned out beautifully and b) DELICIOUS.

Ingredients

Black Beans
2 cans black beans
1 TB olive oil
1/4 cup chopped red onion
1 Tablespoon chopped garlic (2 cloves)
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1 teaspoon cumin
1/4 teaspoon cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon cayenne
1/3 cup beer (Used Guinness because chocolate undertones go well but anything would work)
1 cup of water

Salad
1 head Romaine lettuce, chopped
2 cups lightly broken tortilla chips
1/2 cup diced red onion
1/2 cup diced tomato
1 1/2 cups chopped roast chicken
1/3 cup shredded/grated sharp cheddar cheese
1/3 cup canned sliced jalapenos (optional)

Cucumber Dill Dressing
1 cucumber, peeled and seeded
1 1/2 cups 2% Greek yogurt (I use this in place of sour cream and mayo. I've yet to be let down.)
1/4 cup fresh dill fronds, chopped (Note: I LOVE fresh dill. You could use less but why?)
1/4 cup olive oil (for texture, no need to break out your best bottle)
1 heaping teaspoon of buttermilk powder
1 clove garlic, chopped
1 teaspoon kosher salt
squeeze of lemon juice (optional)

Directions

1) Open, drain and rinse your beans. Set them aside.

2) Saute garlic and onion in olive oil at medium heat in a medium saucepan. Add in spices till everything in the pot is coated and fragrant. 2-3 minutes stirring constantly.

3) Add your beans, mix well then add your beer and water. Bring this up to a boil then immediately turn heat down till you can keep a steady simmer. Simmer for 25-30 minutes, stirring occasionally till liquid is reduced by a third.

4) While your beans are busy soaking up goodness, make the dressing. Put all of the ingredients in the bowl of a food processor or blender. Whirl it around. Season to taste and refrigerate. Done.

5) Assemble the rest of your chopped ingredients in the following order: hearty amount of romaine lettuce, tortilla chips, chicken, tomatoes, red onion, cheese.

6) Use a slotted spoon to divide your black beans out over the salads.

7) Pour a liberal bit of cucumber dill dressing over the top of it all. Look at the ingredients. Nothing bad for you here and you'll have plenty left over for use elsewhere (egg salad, salmon filets, drizzle in tomato soup, etc.).

8) Grab a fork and carry on with the crunching.

In-Flight Writing Part 2: Nashville

I have a layered relationship with Nashville. Even inclusive of the cowboys and country music the rest of the world knows it for, it always seemed a little more cosmopolitan than Memphis. Maybe most people feel that way about the place they grew up- it couldn't possibly be all that exciting when there was just so much world out there. And, indeed, there was and is a lot of world. I was suddenly 18-19 and spending all my time in Nashville, a visitor immersed in a prestigious private school and the thick, old South gentilities and implied advantages of its students.

And I should probably mention, I was holy crow in love to the point of absolute stupidity. I don't know whether I'm more horrified or sympathized to the way that first time into the depths turns a person inside out. Regardless, it was easy to be charmed by the city enabling it. We ate black bean salads with cucumber dill dressing on my Thursday arrivals at Calypso, shared Steeplechase sandwiches on sunny Saturdays at Bread & Co and nursed Sunday hangovers with chicken fingers at McDougal's.

I tried sushi for the first time at Goten and the fact that it was followed immediately thereafter by sake bomb(s) has not deterred my devotion ever since. I knew that city well and we charmed each other for a few years (until we didn't). Only in that singular state of high altitude hormones can one get so nostalgic about the smell of stale Natural Light.

Which is to say once Nashville inevitably saw the contents of my proverbial heart cracked wide open and fried over easy on the sidewalk, it took me a year or two to go back.

When I did, the city didn't remember me splayed violently in the outline of a great salt lake. It just hugged me heartily and smelled like Dogwood trees and magnolia blooms. And deep-fryers. So I've continued to go back annually and in the last two years I've headed south for a work-related conference (as it turns out "work-related" does not exclude dance parties and the odd glass of wine:).

This made for the second of my winter adventures, split between talking till I was hoarse at the Opryland Hotel and getting to ingratiate a good friend to her new city. JPop, previously mentioned as part of a Monday night dinner tradition, moved shop to Nashville in December. I worked out my slight jealousy by acknowledging that part of me would be loving the city a little more because someone I love was enjoying it in my stead. So clearly we would need to eat well.

Thanks to a spectacular recommendation, we opted into a late reservation at City House Saturday night. East Nashville six years ago (gulp) was not nearly as far along in its gentrification as it is today but I suspect it was well on its way. That being said, it seems like every new restaurant I've heard about since my NashVegas years is somewhere over on the sunrise side of the river that splits the city down the middle. This unassuming cottage in Germantown is why. I think I had one of my favorite meals in the last five years.

I've tried to cut back on taking any photos in restaurants. I never did use a flash but still, unless I can catch it fast with natural light, rarely is it worth the interruption. My hesitation can be found on Flickr but I'll tell you now that the photos don't do the food justice. We sat down at 9:45 after a round of cocktails and tried to narrow it down. The meat is cured in-house. The pasta is made by a guy around the block. Any eggs involved? Laid the previous day. My kind of eating. The gnocchi was some of the best I've had with a crisp bottom and a soft, toothsome middle. The food wasn't overdone. After marsala sorbet and not a small amount of wine, I was giddy in a way that only that feeling of a tremendous find makes you.

We spent a cocktail at Patterson House after dinner at our waiter's recommendation and it proved to be, like his other recos, tremendous. Hey Kris? You made our night. Patterson House, as it turns out, is the Nashvillian sister of the Violet Hour, one of my favorite weekday bar-sits in Chicago. Our barkeep made a smooth whiskeydrink (called Vincent's Demise, I think) and it turned out he'd lived in Chicago before heading south to help open this place. I like it when I find two of my favorite places getting along.

Then we did a little of the above. The above being Broadway on a Saturday night when the audience of any given honkytonk reads like an anthropology dissertation. I'm not sure which part of the evolutionary chain I was representing at this point so let's skip to brunch.

Margot. Another spot on the east side and oh so very worth the venture. By daylight I could further fall for the area with its little bungalows and a big trees. Old houses with tin roofs and all manner of independent eatery.

"I could do this. I could be happy here."

My favorite part of traveling is finding the life I'd be living in any given place. Do you do that, too?

We got inside and wanted everything. And we were, errr, hungry. So we did indeed have everything. Including a scone that made me a believer and the dish you see above. It was too pretty not to snap but don't worry, I got JPop and Becca's choices documented as well. Poached eggs over veal sugo with Fall's Mill grits for breakfast. Game changer.

From there we attended to an issue at hand and bought ourselves boots (see top, I'm the Johnny Cash). I had been telling myself they were impractical for years but buy one get two free sucked us right in. I have to tell you that I've never owned a more comfortable pair of shoes and they look so cute in my doorway...reason enough to do anything.

On my way back to the airport, I stopped into Calypso for a black bean salad. It smelled the same inside as it did then and it tasted just as good. Maybe better.