Can't Teach an Old Blog New Tricks

In my post about dinner at The Publican in Chicago, I indirectly make reference to my previous food blog, "Fork & Spoon." For a glimpse into what I was eating and what was eating me at the time, visit: http://forkandspoonblogger.blogspot.com/ It's a collection of old restaurant reviews and synopses of Top Chef Season 2. Highly relevant stuff.

I have yet an even older blog, "SPAM & Eggs," reaching back to my life in eating since 2005: http://spamandeggs.blog.friendster.com/

DIY Experiment: Martha's French Bread

With the state of the economy as it is, many of us are seeking ways to save a few pennies. Given my affinity for all things foodie, I thought I'd try my hand at baking my own bread. It's easy to do and, with only four ingredients, it's easy on the pocketbook. The practice had pretty much eluded me for years--my fear of yeast used to prevent me from experimenting with the art of breadmaking. However, recent successes with pizza dough had steeled my confidence enough to give it a shot. Despite a few learning moments, my experiment taught me a new baking technique, filled the house with a delicious aroma, and resulted in tasty homemade bread, fresh from the oven.

I used a variation of "Homemade French Bread" from The Martha Stewart Cookbook, one of my standbys for classic recipes. While Martha's original recipe calls for all-purpose flour, she suggests a whole-wheat version using half whole-wheat flour and half all-purpose flour. The resulting bread had a crisp, chewy crust and dense crumb. Stuffed with a sharp, white cheddar gifted by my mother after a trip to Wisconsin, one of the baguettes made for a simple, yet satisfying dinner for Todd and me the evening of its baking.

Unfortunately, being only two in the household, we had more bread than was possible to consume before going bad. Next time, I'll package it up and send it off to friends and family. After all that hard work, it was shameful to let so much go to waste.

Also, another note: Despite Martha's recommendation of a 50/50 balance of white to wheat flour, I found that the texture did suffer some due to the heartier crumb caused by the protein in the whole-wheat. It prevents the formation of gluten, which typically gives "lift" to baked goods. According to Cooks' Illustrated magazine, in any baking recipe that calls for all-purpose flour, do not replace with more than 25% wheat flour, or texture will suffer. Mental note for next time.

HOMEMADE FRENCH BREAD

1 ounce fresh yeast or 2 packages of active dry yeast

2-3/4 cups warm water

7 cups unbleached all-purpose flour (see note, above)

4-1/4 teaspoons salt

Proof the yeast in 1/4 cup of the warm water.

Mix the flour and salt in a large bowl. Add the remaining water and mix well. Add the yeast mixture. Blend into dough.

Turn onto a floured board and knead until dough is smooth and elastic. If you have a heavy-duty mixer with a dough hook, this whole procedure will take only 4-5 minutes.

Put kneaded dough in a covered bowl and let rise until doubled in bulk. Punch dough down and let rise a second time until doubled. Turn onto a floured board and shape as desired (I split the dough in half, and made three baguettes and just over a dozen rolls).

Let rise for a final time, covered with plastic wrap, until doubled in size. Long loaves must be slashed along the top with a sharp razor (be sure to slash BEFORE the final rise, which I failed to do, resulting in a less-than-visually-perfect baguette).

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees Farenheit.

Bake for about 25 minutes, spraying the loaves with water 3-4 times during baking (this was my favorite part; the steam helps to create the crisp, chewy crust). Loaves are done when golden brown and crispy.

This recipe costs only a few cents and makes a LOT of bread--hopefully, you won't have trouble finding a home for your extras.

Inyo, Ferndale, Michigan

When I first saw the signs heralding the arrival of Inyo, a new, Pan-Asian eatery along Ferndale's Woodward corridor, I asked myself if this city could sustain yet another Asian restaurant. With two Chinese takeouts, two Thai restaurants, two sushi bars, and one Indian restaurant, could this town really stand to have another join the plethora of Asian eateries near the intersection of 9 Mile and Woodward? If the food is good, I guess it doesn't hurt.

After a four-day weekend traveling along the northern Michigan coast, Todd and I decided to ease out of our holiday by having dinner at the latest addition to Ferndale's food scene. Inyo is primarily a sushi bar, but with a fair selection of salads, appetizers, and entrees for those who don't care to partake in the standard offering of sashimi, nigiri, and maki. In fact, with the actual sushi bar tucked into the back of the restaurant, you could almost forget that it's there.

The place is pretty stylish, compared to the rest of its counterparts in the neighborhood. Dark, tiled floors, stark-white light fixtures, and red, muralled walls create a modern feel that outdoes the other aforementioned establishments. The curved cocktail bar facing Woodward Avenue is set aflame at night, giving the place even more visual interest. It gets a minus point, however, for the blonde woman at the door wearing a kimono. A little over the top, and borderline tacky.

In addition to a wide selection of beer, wine, and cocktails, Inyo's menu features dishes primarily of the Japanese-Korean-Chinese variety. Not exactly the "Pan-Asian" seletion I was expecting, but acceptable. Soups include the standby Miso and Hot-and-Sour, while Appetizers run the gamut from panko-encrusted oysters to chicken lettuce wraps. The entree menu features a wide variety of seafood dishes (the evening's special was fresh grouper, prepared steamed, fried, or sauteed), as well as poultry and meat dishes, including Chicken Katsu (panko-encrusted chicken cutlet) and Beef Karubi (a.k.a. Kalbi, the Korean-style marinated short ribs).

Not feeling up for a full entree, I opted for a couple of appetizers as my dinner: Pan-fried Ebi (Shrimp) Gyoza and Panko-encrusted Calamari. Unfortunately, the kitchen was out of the gyoza, so our server suggested the Chicken Spring Roll in its place. Served with a cherry-dipping ginger sauce, the spring roll was light and crispy, and filled with shredded chicken instead of the typical ground chicken. The calamari were likewise crisp and tender, and served with a side of sweet chili condiment. In a rare move, Todd ordered two rolls: a Shrimp Tempura Roll and Spicy Scallop Roll. Each was full of flavor and, unlike the rolls across the street at Sakana, these were substantial in size. While I would never consider myself a sushi expert, these were satisfyingly tasty, if not necessarily authentic. Todd and I paired our dinners with glasses from the wine list, a petit Chenin Blanc and Sauvignon Blanc, respectively.

At the end of our dinner, we were offered the option of two desserts, which we declined: Mango Custard and Tiramisu. Why an Asian restaurant would have Tiramisu on its menu, I can not understand, but along with the kimono lady garners the place another minus point. In the end, the bill came to $55 for two, inclusive of wine.

As Downtown Ferndale's newest restaurant, Inyo hardly fills a void as far as variety is concerned. I can't really fault the restaurant, as much as our city planners for allowing another Asian restaurant onto the scene. I should be grateful, I guess, that it occupies one of the handful of empty storefronts downtown. As far as the food goes, however, Inyo does a decent job--it's fresh, flavorful, and full of variety.

The Publican, Chicago, Illinois

A spectacular meal shared with friends during a recent trip to Chicago inspired me to resume blogging about food. "Kitchenette" captures my mindless musings on food, from the most mundane preparations at home to the tastiest dining experiences on the road.

Christening Kitchenette's foray into the blogosphere is this recounting of an inspired dinner enjoyed at The Publican, a lively eatery in Chicago's West Loop neighborhood. From the brilliant minds behind critical darlings avec and Blackbird, The Publican has become renowned for its adventuresome menu and frenetic energy. It holds its post at 845 W. Fulton Market, amidst the Windy City's gentrifying meat packing district, and serves up a magnificent selection of the most indulgent ingredients: carefully-sourced seafood, certified organic pork, artisanal cheeses, and a vast menu of domestic and international beers highlight the menu.

The evening of my virgin experience at The Publican, I dined with six mostly-adventurous foodie friends, seated communally at a long table in the center of the restaurant. The idea of communal dining typically tends to turn me off, but this time, it totally enhanced the experience. Neighbors unabashedly chimed in with recommendations, queried over others' selections, and sometimes stopped just short of asking for a taste. Over a robust glass of Old #38 stout from California's North Coast Brewing Company, I pored through the menu with my co-diners, deliberating which selections would offer a well-rounded representation of what The Publican had to offer. We, of course, started with a round of Crispy Pork Rinds, which arrived in brown paper cones, warm from the fryer and seasoned lightly with salt and spice. To accompany the pork rinds, we shared a charcuterie plate of a terrined country pate, pork pie, head cheese, and boudin noir (blood sausage), along with cornichons, caperberries, and mustards. Then, we were treated on-the-house to a couple of cones of freshly-made fries, accompanied by creamy, garlicky aioli. We knew we were in for a fantastic evening.

A few among our group had dined at The Publican several times before, and offered their recommendations. However, most of us had never been and were looking forward to what was to come. I was disappointed to learn that my selection, the Monterey Bay sardines, were gone for the evening. So, I settled on the "Little Gem Salad" of Michigan greens, fennel, radish, and muscatel-buttermilk vinaigrette, topped with crisped pig's ear, as well as a pot of pork rillettes served with kumquat marmalade and crunchy crostini. Around the table, my co-diners indulged in unctuous Quebecois sweetbreads with bacon and mustard greens; country pork ribs with a sweet-sour Asian-inspired glaze; seared, glazed pork belly; a Basque stew of mussels, shrimp, salt cod, and scallops, served with chunky bread and red pepper rouille; and lastly, a potee--a slow braise of pork shoulder, loin, and chorizo. Our seventh, who had filled himself up on appetizers, opted for the only vegetable among our bunch: simply roasted asparagus topped with crushed peanuts.

Each dish made a round robin amongst our group, and we feasted on nibbles of each others' selections. It was a wonderful way to share the experience, and prompted tireless conversation about food and cooking. We ogled the orders of our neighbors, especially the order of jewel-like roasted beets with burrata cheese, and the trio of Serrano, La Quercia, and Prosciutto hams ordered by the diners seated beside me. The only thing about The Publican that slightly disappointed was the minimal dessert selection: aside from a variety of artisanal cheeses, the dessert menu was comprised of a dark chocolate budino (bread pudding), a waffle with pear and honey butter, and panna cotta with roasted beets. Although I would have gladly tried the latter option, none of my co-diners opted for dessert, so we all settled on coffees to finish our meal. No worries, though--this minor shortfall in the menu was more than offset by the stupendous meal we had just enjoyed. Once the bill arrived, we were pleased to find it came to only $40 per person--a bargain, as far as any of us were concerned, for such a fantastic meal.

Overall, The Publican deserves all of the accolades it has received in recent months, as do chefs Paul Kahan and Brian Huston for their deliciously indulgent menu and commitment to well-sourced ingredients. In this light and airy space, with its wooded decor, globe chandeliers, and pig-themed murals by local artists, the team has succeeded in adding another gem to the crown of Chicago's food scene.

For more information about The Publican, visit their website at http://www.thepublicanrestaurant.com/