We Don't Knead Bread Book Club

written by Mei Chin

(Re)consider the loaf. This is what Jim Lahey asks us to do, over and over again, in his new book: My Bread: The Revolutionary No-Work, No-Knead Method. Recipes based around his no-knead bread, first made famous in Mark Bittman’s “The Minimalist” column in The New York Times in 2006, definitively prove that anyone, anyone, can make a good loaf of bread at home. All it takes, he writes, is “about 5 minutes of actual labor, followed by 12 to 18 hours in which the bread rises, developing structure and flavor on autopilot, and then another short rising time, and, finally, the brief baking in a covered pot.” Simple, indeed.

Lahey takes us through his career as a baker, starting with his collegiate days as an art student, making his first loaf as a gift for his girlfriend. Noting the similarities between sculpture and baking, Lahey discovered a passion that would take him to Italy and back, and left him understanding what bread can mean, and what a good loaf could possibly be. Eventually, while working on a request from Chef Cesare Casella, of the Italian Culinary Academy, for bread made in the style of ancient Rome, Lahey improvised his now famous recipe, and has made it ever since.

Recipes in My Bread are accessible and well-written for both neophytes and experienced bakers. All measurements are given in measured and weighted amounts, with clear instructions and pictures that demonstrate each step. Besides Lahey’s basic loaf, there are also sweet and savory breads, a section on pizza, and an homage to the perfect sandwich.

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...Hot Chocolate by Any Other Name Would(n't) Taste As Sweet

written and photographed by Rebekah Peppler

Rich, creamy and impossibly decadent, hot chocolate has lived up to its name as a drink fit for gods, warriors and kings for millennium. That is until America (okay, and Britain) got its sticky fingers all over it.While I grew up sipping my fair share instant hot cocoa made popular by brands like Nestlé and Swiss Miss, the distinction between hot cocoa and hot chocolate is much more than one word. It's a varied history, rife with centuries of sweet, cocoa bean-laden roots.

Making its entrée into civilization around 1000 B.C., cocoa was first harvested by the Olmecs and made into a liquid by their better-known successors the Mayans, who then shared it with the Aztecs. The Aztecs, prodigious people as they were, bestowed it with the title Theobroma or "food of the gods", spiced it with chili powder, honey and vanilla and served it lukewarm to give strength to their warriors.

When the conquistadors returned to Spain with their plunder of cocoa they replaced the Aztec's spices with sugar, the warriors with the upper class, served it hot and kept it a secret for nearly a century. After word got out about the potation, hot chocolate spread rapidly amidst the high societies of Europe, picking up a proclivity for milk in Britain and maintaining its elitist status. However, in 1828 a Dutch chemist named Coenraad Van Houten invented the cocoa press, making cocoa powder easier to dissolve in liquid, more affordable and thus accessible to the masses. Nonetheless, the process, aptly known as Dutching, starkly diminished the quality of the beverage. Europe's elite chose to stick with the pricier original, and unequivocally tastier, hot chocolate, while Britain, and soon enough America, opted for the less expensive, more convenient cocoa powder.

In America the terms "hot chocolate" and "hot cocoa" were quickly deemed so interchanged that the high-class appeal of the hot chocolate was lost and, as evidenced today, hot cocoa became an overly sweet drink marketed for kids.


Fortunately, authentic hot chocolate is coming back in favor and the distinction between it and its cocoa cousin is being more readily acknowledged. Those in the (chocolate) know visit Jacques Torres and MarieBelle in New York, Vosges Haut-Chocolat in Chicago and Flour Bakery + Café in Boston to indulge in the true essence of European hot chocolate. Or, you can easily make it in the comfort of your own home, reverting back to a time before that pesky Dutchmen's invention and America's inane marketing scheme. A time when hot chocolate was a drink fit for the gods, the warriors, the upper echelon of society.

So, sit back, take a sip. Welcome to your kingdom.


Authentic Hot Chocolate (not to be mistaken for hot cocoa)

serves 2

¾ cup whole milk

¼ cup heavy cream

2 ounces high quality bittersweet chocolate, finely chopped

2 ounces high quality semisweet chocolate, finely chopped

pinch of salt

1 tsp vanilla extract

Place chocolate in heat proof bowl and set aside. Heat milk, cream and salt in a saucepan just to the boiling point. Turn off the heat and pour 1/2 of the mixture over the chocolate and allow to sit for one minute. Whisk, starting from the center, until the chocolate is completely dissolved. Add back to the sauce pan and whisk to combine with the remaining milk mixture. Stir in the vanilla extract and allow to sit for 15 minutes. Reheat gently over low heat and serve with a dollop of freshly whipped cream and a few chocolate shavings. Read more!

Comfort Me FRANNY!

written by Anthony Ramos

As much as I love to cook at home I find dining out equally as enjoyable. Sharing food with friends and family at the communal table is comforting and rewarding. Our hip Park Slope friends invited us to meet them at Franny’s on Flatbush Ave for dinner. The restaurant was unfamiliar to me – and being somewhat all things food snobbish – my initial reaction to the restaurant’s name conjured up unflattering images.

We arrived a little early and the line of patrons that ran outside the door surprised me, especially for a Monday night! We edged our way in to get our name on the ubiquitous list. The airy space was filled with gorgeous scents of garlic, basil, tomatoes and baking bread. Looking at the menu the fare is simple, Italian, pizza, a few pastas, uncomplicated appetizers and salumi. The concise menu reminded me of the few days I spent in Rome and Florence where unadorned cafes served some of the best food I’ve ever had.


Back out on the sidewalk, waiting for Beau and MaryKathryn to arrive, Marc whispered to me and told me that Maggie Gyllenhaal was also waiting for a table with her husband, actor Peter Saarsgard and their young daughter. Fellow Brooklynites, I figured, just out for a casual dinner with their friends – just like us. Like good stalwart New Yorkers no one flinched at the celebrity sightings and it was business as usual.

With the arrival of our friends, we immediately ordered cocktails, wines and some food to start. The Crostino of wood-roasted pancetta and herb butter and the Fried eggplant with cherry tomato and Parmigiano Reggiano that arrived from the open kitchen were deceptively simple, constructed of just a few ingredients. The crostino of Italian bacon and melted herb butter on thickly grilled bread was rustic and savory.

We choose the Rigotonicini with pork sausage, rapini and Provolone piccante and a brick oven pizza made with Buffalo mozzarella, tomatoes, red pepper and yes, more sausage. The pizza had that wonderful crispy char from baking on hot stone in the oven. It reminded me of the pizza I had in Rome, so I closed my eyes and imagined hearing Vespas sputtering around cobble-stoned streets. The pasta was perfect, really al dente the way I like it and the wilted rapini and piquant sauce flavored with sharp Provolone were enticing.

It just proves that the best quality ingredients in the right hands can create a soul satisfying experience. As for the name…I’d forgotten about those unflattering images after sharing a bottle of complex, earthy Sicilian wine.
photo credit: Vanessa Vichit-Vadakan
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"Escoffier was a Hustler" - Anthony Bourdain

written by Jason Greenberg

Listening to Anthony Bourdain speak is like running through a field of land mines. Okay maybe just a field of sound bites. He rattles off one-liners in such quick succession that you’re sure he had to have prepared them beforehand. Part journalist (he prefers storyteller), part chef, part writer and part comedian, hehas become not only the face of The Travel Channel, but also one of the most recognizable personalities in the food industry.

Bourdain was in town recently to take part in a Times Talks interview session—an event in conjunction with the Food Network’s NYC Wine and Food Festival. His interviewer was none other than former New York Times restaurant critic, Frank Bruni. Most of the questions and conversation centered on Bourdain’s television show, No Reservations. But one should always expect Bourdain to veer onto other food-related topics. His opinions on certain celebrity chefs are widely known, but lately he has been critical of beloved chef Alice Waters too. “She scares me,” he said, adding his own strikingly visual description of Waters as “Pol Pot in a muumuu.” The crowd certainly got a kick out of that. Although some, including Bruni, were slightly taken aback. Bourdain took issue with Waters’ appearance on 60 Minutes and her constant preaching on the nation’s eating habits. “The message is good, she’s just the wrong person to deliver it,” he said.

Bourdain did admit that sometimes he goes too far and occasionally regrets the blatant honesty he is known for. He recalled a time that he made disparaging comments about Chef Jamie Oliver. He later found out that Oliver had suffered from dyslexia as a child, and that Kitchen Confidential had been one of the first books he'd ever read—that he had been a hero of sorts to him. Bourdain has since apologized and the two had a beer.

The topic of the Food Network also frequently comes up in conversation with Bourdain. “It’s a Food Network world, I just live in it,” he told Bruni. Does he believe that a chef’s personality and on-air presence can be determining factors in the success of their restaurants or their career in general? Yes and no. There are some chefs, such as Eric Ripert, whom he believes should never have to give another interview because his food speaks for itself. Bourdain does, however, admit that there is a bit of hustling that is inevitable, even historical in the food world. “Escoffier was a hustler,” he said. “With the book deals and restaurants.”

After Bruni was done with his questions, it was the audience’s turn. Unfortunately, most of the questions were more chances to praise Bourdain than actual questions. But a few led to Bourdain to share more of his philosophies and insights. A few asked about the obesity epidemic to which he responded, “All I can say is stop eating at the king, the Colonel and the clown.”
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Spicy, Flaky and Smoky: Aleppo Pepper

written by Mei Chin

I am not a spice lover by nature. My parents don’t stomach hot food terribly well, but it was somewhere in the late 90s when my mother introduced red pepper flakes to our larder. But even from the beginning, it was never enough. Discovery, circa 1997? I love hot pepper enough to make the pizza guy’s eyes bulge out when I order a slice.

But that kind of heat (the red pepper flake kind) is a straight shot, a one-two punch. Aleppo pepper, a fruity, sultry pepper from Syria, is not that kind of pepper. Aleppo pepper is the dried, ground skin of peppers of the same name, is mixed with with olive oil and a little salt, and then set to ferment in the sun. It’s spicy and flaky and smoky all at once; the heat starts out mild, but then blooms in the throat, revealing fruitiness and smoke. Aleppo pepper is also clever at hiding itself in dishes where you don’t expect heat, only to reveal itself after the second, or third bite. It is completely delicious, and utterly addicting.

Rated at a 3-4 on the Scoville heat scale, Aleppo isn’t the hottest pepper around, but it doesn’t need to be. It’s a pepper for when subtlety is called for, rather than a hammer over the head. It would even be good, sprinkled with abandon, on top of a pizza slice. Don’t think I haven’t tried it.

Photo: The Nibble

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Oh Hello Apple Pie and Cheddar Brisee

Written and Photographed by Rebekah Peppler

Let’s get this right out in the open. I’m from Wisconsin. Born and raised on brats, beer and cheddar cheese, I can hold my own at a -20˚F Packer game, possess intricate know-how in order to navigate the rowdy aisles of a Brewer’s game without spilling any choice beverages and can boast of growing up witha foam cheese-head and chunk of authentic Lambeau turf in the downstairs freezer.So, when it came time for the first apple pie of the year and I found myself back in my home state, I wanted to honor it in only the best of ways. What are the best of ways for a Wisconsinite? With cheese, cheddar cheese.

Cheddar has long been the classic foil to apples, traditionally served on the side of apple pie, its sweet-savory combination balances perfectly on the tongue. But when leaving it up to the diner proves too cumbersome, cut out the middleman and bake it directly into the crust. It makes this timeless combination even easier, plus there’s the added bonus of a warm home inundated with the robust aroma of toasted cheddar cheese and sweet apple compote.

And if you can, get your hands on a vigorously sharp Wisconsin cheddar and make me – and my home state – proud.

Apple Pie Tartlettes with Cheddar Brisee
Serves 6

For the Cheddar Brisee
Adapted from Martha Stewart

1¼ cups all-purpose flour
pinch salt
I/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, chilled and cut into small pieces
2 – 4 Tbsp ice cold water
¾ cup sharp Wisconsin cheddar

1. Combine dry ingredients in a large bowl and cut in butter until lentil sized pieces form.
2. Add water and mix just till the dough comes together.
3. Wrap in plastic wrap and chill.
4. When well chilled, roll out and line six 4” tartlette shells.

For the Apple Compote

6 medium apples (I used a mixture of Paula Red and Zestar)
½ cup vanilla sugar
1 vanilla bean, split and scraped
generous pinch of salt
2 tsp cinnamon
½ tsp freshly grated nutmeg
¼ tsp ground cloves
1 Tbsp freshly squeezed lemon juice
1/3 cup water, plus more if needed

1. Core and chop apples into ½ inch pieces. Toss in fresh lemon juice. (I leave the skin on to impart a gorgeous ruby color and enhance texture).
2. Combine all ingredients in a heavy bottomed saucepan and bring to a boil. Cover with a parchment round, turn down the heat and simmer, stirring occasionally, until apples are tender and compote is thickened.
3. Line a sheet pan with plastic wrap allowing excess to hang over side; spread compote onto sheet pan and cover gently with excess wrap. Allow compote to cool completely.

To Assemble and Bake
1. Preheat over to 400˚F.
2. Prick the chilled tart shell with a fork, fill with cooled compote.
3. Bake 10-15 minutes until crust is browned.
4. Serve warm or at room temperature with lightly sweetened whipped cream.

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French Culinary Restaurant Review: Je me souviens (I remember) L'Ecole

Written by Anthony Ramos

With fond memories of my culinary alma matter, I stole away a Friday afternoon to have a cozy lunch at L’Ecole – the restaurant at The French Culinary Institute in SoHo. It was wonderful to be back in the neighborhood, but strange not to head straight to the kitchen, instead being led to a table for two. The restaurant was buzzing with activity as I imagined the kitchen was too. It is astonishing to think about the shear number of people that must interact and work together to just please one guest. From expediters to senior chefs to culinary students at different stations, from waiters to hosts to dishwashers and bussers. A tightly manufactured piece of machinery where the weakest cog can easily bring down the house. All of this crossed my mind even before the bread came to the table.

After ordering cocktails, Marc and I took a serious look at the menu. The seasonal lunch fare, prepared by FCI students, features three courses. After some wheeling and dealing (“if you order the tartare I will get the cavatelli, and then we can try both”) we decided to start off with the Arctic char tartare with walnuts, Stilton blue and Yorkshire pudding, and the Cavatelli with rock shrimp, fava beans and ricotta salata. The char tartare (say that fast three times) was silky and tasted like the sea but we both agreed the Stilton could have had a stronger presence. As for the cavatelli (the pasta nemesis from my own FCI final), it was well balanced and had a good array of flavors, perfect for a summer lunch.

We were then eager to move on to our main courses: Seared duck breast and braised leg with fingerling potatoes and sour cherry sauce for Marc, and a pan-roasted lamb loin with goat cheese polenta, asparagus, figs and lamb jus for me. I reminisced about the duck and lamb before it even approached the table – thinking about my own experience preparing similar dishes for L’Ecole as a student not so long ago. When our entrées arrived my lamb had a gorgeous pool of lamb jus. I was immediately reminded of the wondrous and deeply flavored sauces I learned to make as a student.

To say my lunch was satisfying and nostalgic would be an understatement. Let’s just say it brought me back to a joyful time in my life, confident in where I had come from as a chef. Read more!

How Did they Discover Coffee from a Bean?

Written by Andrea Scalici

I don’t know if it’s my inquisitive nature or my obvious love of food but I often find myself pondering the origins of some of my favorite, can’t live without, treats. Like coffee for example; who would have thought that simply roasting some beans would turn into this amazing black elixir I couldn’t start my day without? And so began my quest to finally uncover such answers...We start in Ethiopia around the 15th century. Legend has it that a goat herder came upon a lively group of “dancing goats” chewing on bright red berries from a bush. He decided to try to berries for himself, immediately enjoying the exhilaration. The man ran with the berries to a nearby monastery and showed them to an Islamic holy man, who in turn, disapproved of their use and threw them into his fire. The "Legend of Dancing Goats" goes on to describe the enticing, billowing aroma that came out of the fire where the beans were swiftly rescued from the flames, ground up, and dissolved in hot water – producing the world’s first cup of coffee.

The story then moves throughout Arabia, where qahwa beans were roasted and brewed similar to today, Persia, Turkey, and northern Africa. From the Muslim world, kahve spread to Italy and the rest of Europe, Indonesia, and the Americas. The first European caffè house opened in Italy in 1645.

Coffee has since seen many advances and reformations. One I have to wonder about is the world's most expensive variety, Kopi Luwak, named for the Indonesian word coffee and its "processor", the Asian Palm Civet. These cat/raccoon-like animals ingest the red coffee cherries containing the fruit and seed. The inner bean is not digested, but a unique combination of enzymes in the stomach break down the proteins that give coffee its bitter taste. The beans are defecated, still covered in some inner layers of the berry, washed, and given a light roast (so as to not destroy the complex flavors that develop through the process). The most pronounced characteristic of Kopi Luwak is a marked reduction in bitterness. How did anyone think to do this?! It is said that these omnivores tend to pick the ripest and sweetest fruit, thus providing brewers with a natural selection for the best coffee beans. But still?! Is there anything left to discover about coffee? I have to wonder...

In today’s world, these magic beans are a vital cash crop for many Third World countries where coffee is the primary export. Though the process hasn’t changed very much relatively speaking, the culture certainly has. On any given day in America you can choose regular or decaf, bold or medium, and au lait or light and sweet. You could even attend a cupping or coffee tasting to explore different regions’ distinctions. And on any given day, you can find me with my billowing aromatic, piping hot cup in my hand, complete with a little cream.

Stay tuned for the upcoming installments that explore the origins of popcorn, bagels, and more! Read more!