Garlic Soup

Garlic. In. Everything.

This is my motto.

So you can imagine how thrilled I was when I came across a recipe for Garlic Soup during a random search though my Gourmet cookbook. I had been looking for gingerbread, but... my plans changed.

I tried it; I loved it.
I tried it again; I loved it again.

And so I planned to document its creation and share it with you, dear readers, upon the first given opportunity since the advent of this blog. That opportunity occurred on August 28, 2010.

Step One: Thinly slice one head of garlic:

Yes, one head of garlic.
About 2 inches in diameter.

Step Two: Cook the sliced garlic in 3 tablespoons of olive oil over low to medium heat, until it is tender and lightly golden:

Step Seventy-eight: Garlic Soup with fried crusty bread and poached egg, garnished with fresh cilantro:


... I kinda forgot to take pictures during the process.
Sorry.

Basically you remove the garlic from the pan and fry some sliced bread in the garlic-infused oil, two pieces per person, about two minutes per side. Put the bread into empty soup bowls.

Pour 4 cups of poultry stock (preferably homemade), 1/4 tsp red pepper flakes, and the cooked garlic into that same pan, and bring to a simmer. Slide some eggs in there and poach them until they're done - whites cooked, but yolks still runny.

Plate by putting the cooked eggs on top of the bread, spooning the broth around, sprinkling with cilantro, and squeezing some lime over the whole thing.

When you tuck in, the broth turns a lovely light buttery yellow, and the bread becomes creamy and velvety by the finish.

So Good.

I have the exact recipe, if anyone's interested.

Who are your influences?

This is my cookbook collection:

5 Asian (2 Thai?)
3 Mexican
4 Regional American
1 Spanish
1 Moroccan
1 by some French guy
1 from New Zealand
1 specifically for Cheese
1 specifically for Sauces
4 all-inclusive
Some paper print-outs
Some catalogs
1 memoir
Some geared towards Simplicity, and some decidedly Not.

This collection has arrived by careful picking through bargain bins, gifts from people who know I like to cook, and a husband who likes to spend his free time at discount bookstores.

(Gifts from Matt, within the last three weeks:

...not that I'm complaining)

Some of my favorite books of all time are on that shelf (Alton Brown, ftw!), and I honestly believe that without them, my life would not be as rich as it is. I sure as hell couldn't cook as well as I do. The more you read, the more you absorb... the more ideas you get.

You start thinking.

Incorporating.

Wondering.

.. and then maybe you understand that certain flavors go together, and certain ingredients might not be such strange bedfellows.

And maybe you come up with something like teriyaki-marinated tofu served on a bed of tzatziki, drizzled with a chinese chili garlic sauce and teriyaki reduction, with an herb salad dressed with warm serrano-lime vinaigrette on the side.

And maybe it's the best thing ever.

...And maybe not.
But you'll never know if you don't try.

millions of peaches.

I apologize -

I logged on to the machine about an hour ago, intent on writing an update with the above title, but I got distracted by Rachel Tractenburg. According to my email inbox, she's got some new kid's show going. The episode linked to featured Andrew W.K...

[There was initially a dissertation in this space regarding the bizarre interconnectivity of the Tractenburgs and The Presidents of the United States of America, tied in with Morphine and Disney and the Noise scene. But then I realized that it sounded like the ramblings of a paranoid schizophrenic and should probably be deleted.

Suffice to say, Chris Ballew controls the universe and the rest of us are just privileged to live here.]

Moving on.

We have a peach tree in our garden.

We thought it was defunct, but apparently we were wrong.

Turns out all those heavy green fruits dropping into our yard were just impatient.

We now have the loveliest, freshest, mildest peaches to do with as we please... it just kinda sucks that we didn't realize it earlier. There is fruit rotting on the ground that could've been ripened in a paper bag and thoroughly enjoyed.

I did manage to make this:

peach rosemary crumble with whole milk european-style yogurt

Yummy, and hopefully not the last dish to be created.

Oh, and because a fruit crumble is often thought to be easy, but is often impossible to pull off, here is the recipe I used for the thing:

Get some fruit (at least a couple of cups), and slice it up.
Sprinkle liberally with sugar, and a couple TBS of flour.
(I also added cinnamon and fresh rosemary, but that would depend on what fruit you're using.)

For the crumble crust:
2 TBS flour
1/4 cup brown sugar
1 cup rolled oats (not instant)
5 TBS butter

Toss all the fruit ingredients up and put it in a pie dish, Then mush all the crust ingredients up in a separate bowl until it's combined and crumbly, then sprinkle it over the fruit. Put the whole thing in a pre-heated 400 fahrenheit oven for about 3o minutes, give or take, until everything's golden brown and bubbly.

Serve with sour cream, yogurt, ice cream, or whipped cream.

mmmmm.

Nirvana

We didn't make it to the state fair this weekend. It just didn't seem like a weekend for hanging out with a crowd of strangers. An update on various fried foods and giant pumpkins will have to wait.

However, just after hitting "Publish Post" on my last entry, Matt returned home with a book on street food. This subject is somewhat of an obsession for me, so I immediately started looking through it. I got stuck on the India section, which led to an impromptu night out for some of THE BEST INDIAN FOOD ON THE PLANET. Or at least in the city.

Mad props to India Palace Restaurant at 4213 Lafayette Rd in Indianapolis. You should throw some biz their way if you are a fan of Indian cuisine, or even if you're just curious to try it. SO GOOD. I of course did not bring my camera to the restaurant, but here's a snap of some artfully arranged left-overs:

Clock-wise, from upper left: Punjabi Bhaji (fried veggie fritters with ginger, garlic, and tomato sauce), Basmati Rice (with peas), Paneer Shahi Korma (cubed cheese, cashews, and peas in an herbed, spiced cream sauce), and Garlic Naan.

The Punjabi Bhaji was deeply flavorful and nicely spicy without being overwhelming, the Paneer Shahi Korma had that great mixture of sweet and spicy that makes Indian food... Indian food, with enough textural interest to keep us gobbling it up, and the Garlic Naan was perfectly cooked, so that it was tender and crisp all at once.

It was so good we were laughing as we ate it. That was the only reaction we could think of.

(Of course, I secretly suspect that there is some sort of secret ingredient in Indian food that forces you to be happy. Because we were sort of gloomy and mopey before we ate, and then afterwards we were not. Only possible explanation.)

Mozzicotta

OK, so remember the cheese with the odd texture that I accidentally produced for my homemade pizza?

We've decided it is extraordinary.
And it shall henceforth be called Mozzicotta.

Being woefully ignorant of all but the most mainstream cheeses out there, I hereby lay claim to inventing this culinary wonder.

It has the fresh milky taste of ricotta, but holds together like mozzarella, and is creamier than either one. It was much appreciated on the pizza, but wasn't truly lauded until tried with the following:

salad caprese verde
(This was served alongside some shrimp scampi fettuccine, courtesy of Bertolli. Shrimp is surprisingly unphotogenic.)

spaghetti marinara
(Featuring a homemade sauce with garlic, herbs, and red wine. And canned tomatoes.)

What?

Anyway, it's amazing. So now I just need to figure out what I screwed up the last time I made cheese, so that I can repeat my mistakes en perpetuity.

[FYI - tomorrow we are going to the state fair, so hopefully I will return with pictures of lots of fried things and giant pumpkins!]

Memory.

I've not formally cooked anything since the big pizza project, but I feel the need to update, so I thought I'd share something with you -

The last time I was in New York City was for my 16th birthday.
It was February.
It was cold.

My father flew my mom and me there to see my favorite broadway musical, which, despite the title of this entry, did not involve ballet dancers dressed up as felines.

I remember that we went to this little cellar restaurant that had really good cappuccino. It was served in a cup that was the size of a small soup bowl. I had to use two hands to drink it. And I had some kind of pasta, but I forget what kind.

Ravioli?

They were really good about getting us out of the restaurant and into the -30 degree street in time for the show.

So - here is the thing I really remember:

After seeing Phantom at The Majestic, we ended up in Little Italy. The little cafe we went to had the most amazing chocolate chip butter cookies. And some awesome cappuccino. It was warm and intimate, and I just remember feeling really comfy and nurtured there. Soft, yellow light and that clattering ambiance you associate with neighborhood hang outs.

It has stuck with me all these years as the feeling of true contentment. I wish I could go back there again, but I know I'd never find it. I'm not sure how we ended up there in the first place.

The hotel we stayed at was across from Winter Garden, right on Broadway. I don't remember anything remarkable about it, except that the cappuccino in the hotel restaurant was really good.

I didn't sleep at all for the 3 days we were there.
It took me months to figure out why....