Are Americans all Genetically Modified Organisms???

Wow. So this blog has turned a bit political lately. Sorry. Nothing clears a room faster than soap boxing and politics. But the documentary Food, Inc. premiers in the States this week, and oh my, if I wouldn't love to be among the first to see it.

You see, I have an enormous soft spot for well-done documentaries and anything that doles out criticism of corporate farming, mass-produced over-processed packaged goods and those frightening food conglomerates who make a mockery of capitalism and consumer choice (you did know that when you're at the grocery store you're not choosing between Cool Whip and Dream Whip, oh no, you're choosing between Philip Morris and, oh, Philip Morris... after watching their US tobacco profits dry up, they needed to diversify and try and do us all in with the likes of Cheese Whiz and a whole host of other supposedly edible atrocities. Click on that link, you'll be shocked at what they own.)

My favourite part of the trailer above, however, is when they reveal that "so much of our industrial food turns out to be rearrangements of corn." It's true! My dad's family used to own a little frozen pizza company called Tombstone. They sold it to Kraft years ago (which was since bought by, ha, of course, Philip Morris) and we caught wind that they were experimenting with substituting the tomato sauce with flavoured corn starch to save money. Delicious and nutritious - non?

Eat aware people. Eat aware.

Brownies: Trick and Treat

I think the great brownie debate oft-mentioned by food writers is utter nonsense: soft vs. chewy, cakey vs. fudgy, decadently chocolate vs. light notes of cocoa. Please. Brownies, real brownies, the kind that make you resentfully envy the person in front of you at the coffee shop who caved in and ordered one, are supposed to be sodden fudge-like confections masquerading under the title of a baked good. I say, if you want cake, make cake. End of argument.

The only problem with this attitude is that if you seek out a satisfyingly excessive brownie recipe, the list of ingredients usually reads something like this: one pound of butter, six eggs, 2 melted Valrhona chocolate bars - oy! I just can't bear to do it. That sort of concoction not only clogs heart valves and welcomes the expansion of your girth, it will also cost you the equivalent of a gourmet meal (although, considering the first two, perhaps if the monetary outlay forces you to forgo the gourmet meal, maybe that's a good thing).

Yet, since I'm an uncompromising sort of person who still wants to make brownies worth calling brownies, but would rather not use 4 + eggs and a month's worth of butter to do it, I am indebted to chocolate dessert expert Alice Medrich. Medrich's "New Classic Brownie" recipe is a godsend that involves an incredible freezer trick: the batter is cooked at a high temperature for a short while before the pan is immediately transferred into your freezer, or, if you'd rather, an ice water bath. This technique produces a pleasingly flaky top-crust that readily gives way to a texture of illustrious chocolate.

Like most magic tricks, I have to warn you, the recipe can be a little finicky - you must make it exactly as written (this took extreme self-discipline - but after messing it up once, I learned my lesson), pour it into the right sized pan (an impossibility this go-round - and I noticed the difference), and have your water bath prepared or your freezer cleared; there is no negotiation on this, or you risk ruin of the "prestige." But, follow the recipe to the letter, whisk it into a deep freezer as soon as you take it out of the oven, and voila... appropriately fudgy, uncompromisingly rich brownies. The result may even please those strange people out there who like to eat brownies that taste like cake.

Enjoy!

Alice Medrich’s New Classic Brownies

8 tablespoons (1/2 cup) butter
4 ounces unsweetened chocolate
1 1/4 cups sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/4 teaspoon salt
2 eggs
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
2/3 cup lightly toasted walnuts or pecans (optional)

1. Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Line an 8-inch-square metal (NOT glass) baking pan with foil. In top of a double boiler set over barely simmering water, or on low power in a microwave, melt butter and chocolate together. Stir often, and remove from heat when a few lumps remain. Stir until smooth.

2. Stir in sugar, vanilla and salt. Stir in eggs one at a time, followed by flour. Stir until very smooth, about 1 minute, until mixture pulls away from sides of bowl. Add nuts, if using. Scrape batter into prepared pan and bake 20 minutes.

3. Meanwhile, prepare a water bath (or make room in your freezer): Pour ice water into a large roasting pan or kitchen sink to a depth of about 1 inch. Remove pan from oven and place in freezer or in water bath, being careful not to splash water on brownies. Let cool completely, then lift out and cut into 1-inch squares or wrap in foil.

P.S. It probably goes without saying, but again, definitely do NOT use a glass pan! I used the silicone one you see above - I'm generally cynical when it comes to these state-of-the-art floppy forms, but their indestructible nature was born for recipes like this.

fishy toppings & eating the crust

Pizza parties were always welcomed in school as a slightly defiant act of clandestine recklessness; we were never supposed to tell other classes what was happening since the teacher throwing it usually feared it would turn the rest of the faculty against them when excluded students began to pout mutinously over the fact that they had to learn while others got to play.

As of late, I've also been pouting mutinously (and having a few bemoaning outbursts) in response to an unwanted and rather aggressive tutorial I'm getting in the British's nonsensical approach to legal dealings and customer "service." This means that not only am I still homeless, I am also getting menacing emails from lettings agents written ALL IN CAPS with statements like BREACH OF CONTRACT and WE HATE YOU AND WANT YOU TO DIE. All I can say is, well, at the end of the day, at least I'm still getting invited to underground pizza parties.


The particular event in question (at an undisclosed location in Soho - oooh) was a relatively swanky launch for the new autumn menu at Pizza Express (I mean, swanky relative to a pizza chain, but there was live jazz music and a recognized chef in the house). Chef Theo Randall, known for his rustic Italian food, who trained with Alice Waters and was at the helm of The River Cafe when it won its Michelin star, recently accepted Pizza Express' invitation to add four crusty creations to its menu.


If we had let the PR girl drag Randall out from behind the stove to speak with us (as she happily would have done, but we sort of chickened out/dismissed the idea/what truly intelligent and interesting question could we ask?) we definitely would have brought up the subject of fish, since three of the four pizzas he created centered around seafood. Kasey's favourite was Theo's Gamberettini, which was generously scattered with teeny tiny baby shrimps, shredded zucchini and creme fraiche. It looked delicious. But the only one I could eat was the vegetarian version of the Favorita, which, with fresh oregano and olives was a pretty typical pizza if you ask me, but hey, with some Prosecco - why not?


But perhaps the highlight of the evening was when the pizza dough creator/entertainer, Dane, somehow talked us into learning how to appropriately form and throw pizza dough. So there Kasey and I were, in the corner throwing misshapen disks of pizza dough and getting coated in flour while everyone else was behaving refined and enjoying the piano music. Even though I dropped my uncooked crust on the floor (he assured nobody would have the misfortune of eating it later) Dane said I had picked up on the technique rather well.


Our teacher impressively tossing (and catching) his crust.


Ah, at least I take some of my lessons without much of a struggle!

Exclusively at Borough Market: Heaven

Behold the toasted cheese sandwich to trump all toasted cheese sandwiches: three slices of French sourdough melding with sharp Montgomery cheddar and a piquant melange of onions and garlic - generously buttered and hot-pressed to crispy brown perfection.

The sandwich looks ethereal wrapped in its white parchment - and the taste is exalting; so rapturous, in fact, I swear, you don't even care about the calories (and I always care about the calories).

Fortunately for my waist, this temptation is only available on weekends at London's Borough market - which, somehow, only makes it better.

The heaven-purveying stall also sells something called raclette: bubbling Ogleshield scraped onto a mound of boiled potatoes and gherkins.

But while the process of making this Swiss dish is more fascinating to watch, and ought to be tried, it's certainly the celestial cheese sandwich that entices everyone back.