Wind whips at bare knuckles and flicks the ends of noses in a most unkind way these days. Meanwhile cold, its host, attacks the rest of the outer layers with the same mischievousness. And so you move faster and faster toward your cozy destination, heating up the core. As many a biker has experienced, you more often than not arrive with the part under your coat sweaty and any exposed skin dry and cracking.

Cold, it occurred to me today, is the opposite of the cook’s definition of searing–to expose the outsides of something to high heat while keeping the inside cool. In the case of tuna and other foods, this technique turns the outside an opaque white while the inner sanctum remains pink, uncooked. This also opposes the experience of cold weather, when it’s one’s outsides that end up the color of salmon sashimi. Why, then, does it sound so fitting to call the frigid weather searing?

Well, the purpose of searing is to seal in the juices ; keeping them tasty and viable for further cooking or immediate eating (that’s what they say, even if it’s not true). Similarly, when you get to the cozy place, having your juices intact will be the important thing. At least that’s my theory.

One language mystery solved…

On the way to the Hazon Food Conference in December, I struck up an acquaintance with a writer and columnist from D.C.  We were put together with a third woman who you will soon learn about by fate and a need to carpool, and the rest is D.C. networking history…or perhaps a testament to the bonding power of food.

The three of us talked, ate noshes from Sticky Fingers or our own kitchens, and indulged in my favorite activity of discussing  esoteric food stuff. Natasha writes a monthly column for Washington Jewish Week known as “Capital Schmoozing,” and our discussion–along with the rest of the food conference–made it into her December column. It only just occurred to me to post that column here (so deep is my modesty, I would like to think, that it took the writer pointing out that I could put it on YaD to make me realize this).

So check it out!

When you don’t have a coffee maker or just don’t feel like firing one up in the morning, you can make what my dad called cowboy coffee. You shovel a few tablespoons of coffee grounds into a pot, add water, and boil. The method implies that cowboys want their joe and will have it no matter what–even if they have to start a fire that they can’t stick around to enjoy and they have to wrestle bits of brown grit between their teeth for the rest of the day.

I’m also taken to understand that cowboys like a bunch of eggs for breakfast and some good, wholesome milk to wash it all down.

Given these three loves of cowboys–coffee, eggs, and milk–I have my suspicions that it was a Cuban Holstein herder who first invented coffee flan. I’ve written about this stuff before, but I made it again recently and a friend asked for me to post the recipe. I checked and sure enough I had posted it a little while back. But now that I’m older and smarter, I made a few modifications. I also added a prettier picture. Check it out, and let me know if you get the urge to tell the dogies to git.

“It was like one of the best rooms in the finest museum except there was a big fireplace and it was warm and comfortable and they gave you good things to eat and natural distilled liquors made from purple plums, yellow plums or wild raspberries…. The paintings and the cakes and the eau-de-vie were truly wonderful.”

This is Earnest Hemingway on snacking and boozing with Gertrude Stein and her “friend” in A Moveable Feast. I’m enjoying the book quite a lot but I was wondering: when he’s hanging out with a soon-to-be-legendary writer and eating and drinking delectable things in Paris in the 1920s, must he add that it all was “truly wonderful”? Don’t rub it in, Tatie.

Yes, it’s another post about China. I promise I’ll stop soon!

In China, many of the teas include bright orange-red berries. They float on the surface like cheerful buoys and, unlike most tea ingredients, are tasty enough to munch on when you’ve drained the cup. During the Shanghai trip, I kind of pointed and grunted to indicate that I liked them (I didn’t know what they were called in either English or Chinese). H somehow remembered this and miraculously a package of them materialized in my hands a few days later.

It was only just now that I decided to look them up. I had a hunch that they were goji berries and a Google image search confirmed it (they’re also known as wolfberries). A look at Wikipedia, without which no 20-something’s research would be complete, revealed that these berries are quite good for you. And then I discovered that they can go for a pretty penny.

Now I’m curious how much that 8- or 10-ounce package cost in China…

Here are some pictures of my food adventures in China.

And if you want to see all the photos from the trip, check ’em out here.

More to come… of course.

I have a few minutes of free internet here in Shanghai and decided to check in. The experience here has been very gratifying, especially in the culinary arena. At least 95 percent of my photos are of kabobs and tofu and scallion bread grilled on the street, various sea creatures, food markets, tables full of food, restaurants and teahouses, and funny English translations of what exactly it all is.

Eating Chinese food in the States, as most astute noshers know, is not much the same as sitting down to a Chinese family dinner or even going to a Chinese restaurant in China.

When I return home, I plan to try my hand at some of the Shanghainese dishes I’ve been eating, post a few recipes, and invite friends (dear readers in the D.C. area, be warned!) over for a Chinese dinner. But if you can’t wait for that, here are some ways you can eat like I’ve been eating for the past week:

– Arm yourself and your guests with only chopsticks and small ceramic bowls.

– Prepare part of the meal beforehand, but keep that part in the kitchen.

– When everyone is hungry and ready to eat, go out to the nearest market for 10 grocery bags full of fresh vegetables, fish, noodles, eggs, and perhaps a live chicken or two.

– Saute each of your fresh ingredients in a wok with plenty of peanut oil. Sprinkle liberally with salt.

– Begin eating each dish as it comes out of the kitchen, piping hot.

– Don’t be shy. Reach around people to grab a mouthful of the newest dish, pour yourself tea, pour other people tea, and spit out unwanted shells or bones right on the table (or, if you want to be more polite, in your ceramic bowl).

That is all! Until next time, happy New Year from Shanghai!

As a Jewish vegetarian, I have to admit that one food has tugged at my lacto-ovo resolve: lox. It’s so tasty, and so available at so many Jewish functions. As fish, it already puts me on the moral fence, on one side doubting that a salmon’s level of consciousness is really that high and and knowing that the fish industry is a model of sustainability compared to factory farms, and on the other side knowing that the tasty, coral-colored stuff on that platter was once a salmon flitting through the water and leaping in the crisp Alaskan sunshine.

So I’ve always faced a conundrum when it came to lox… until now. The other day I discovered smoked dulse, and a smokey, savory, dilemma-free heaven opened up. Dulse is a sea vegetable (now that I see what it can do, wouldn’t dare call it a weed) that I already loved to snack on or sprinkle on popcorn. Then, it seems, some brilliant individual decided to smoke it with applewood. The smoked dulse has the same iron-packed goodness as regular sea vegetable with an added yummy flavor.

Here’s a spread I worked up that satisfies my lox tooth without the moral bite of eating fish:

Loxless Spread
Makes enough to schmear 2-4 bagels

4 oz. cream cheese or neufchatel cheese (1/2 a package), softened

Generous 1/4 c. smoked dulse, lightly rinsed and chopped

1 small clove garlic, minced

Small slice of pickled beet, mashed, or a few drops beet juice for color (optional)

1/2 carrot, finely grated, for color and more substance (optional)

Bagels

Capers, cucumber, tomato, bell pepper, and/or thinly sliced red onion

Combine cream cheese, dulse, garlic, beet and carrot (if desired, to achieve a lox-y color). Mix well. Serve on sliced toasted bagels garnished with capers and veggies.

Enjoy!

For generations, Jewish women (and, increasingly, Jewish men) have looked into a mixing bowl on a Friday and seen more than just eggs and flour. In the makings of a batch of challah, we have seen the oncoming shabbat, bringing with it rest and reflection. We have seen the community of people we will meet or pray with, the reading we’ll get done, perhaps the nap we’ll take when all that’s over. And, of course, we have seen ourselves a few hours hence tearing into some really tasty chometz.

My mom and I brought back the challah-making tradition at my house when I last went to visit. We teamed up to churn out a big batch of loaves she could save for future Sabbaths. Every time I’ve made challah, actually, it’s been a community effort. The first time was with a group from Gallaudet learning from a local rabbi. And it wasn’t just me and my mom baking this last time — we consulted with a woman who makes challah every week at the local Chabad house, getting details and tips while we shared tidbits about our Thanksgiving plans.

I must say the result was delicious, and ever so cute. Although we were making single-serving rolls, we preserved the traditional braided shape. The outcome looked like the regular forearm-length loaves had been hit with a shrink ray and I could just imagine Ken and Barbie (or may Chen and Sari) putting two of these darlings back to back and saying the hamotzi in their tiny doll voices.

I did not come away with a recipe I can recommend, mostly because the one we used gave the quantity of flour in pounds instead of cups. So if you would like to create your own challah, try one of these.

Another interesting note: there’s no Jewish law that says challah (literally meaning separate, not bread) should be braided or full of sugar and eggs. It tastes mighty good that way, though. Although studies have yet to prove that the bumps of the braid improve the flavor, I’m convinced this is true.

Another lovely result of the photo contest: more hits!

I believe it was thanks to your reading and voting that led to 4,760 hits from 263 unique visitors in a little over two weeks. The two-week average recently has been 2,800-4,000 hits from around 165 people.

Yes, it’s modest compared to some sites, but I’m quite pleased. Thanks for reading and keep the comments coming!