Israeli Barbeque

Even if there's no such thing as good hummus in America, we Israeli food-o-philes try to make the best of the diaspora with the limited ingredients at our disposal. Last weekend in Santa Barbara, my friends Yoav, Harry, a bunch of Israelis and I threw together an Israeli barbeque as best we could... well, mostly Harry and I watched in blissful awe counting down the seconds til we can make aaliyah while Yoav and the Israelis chopped, blended, fried and threw together the most satisfying meal ever. The kind of meal that can only be better when washed down with a Goldstar beer. Pictures can't really do the meal justice, especially because I am obviously a klutz with the camera and my shadow is in the front of every photo!

Yoav handled the grill: beef and turkey kebabs. The beef kebabs were round, and had pine nuts, parsley, and cumin mixed into the meat. The turkey kebabs were "the long kind" (as Yoav called it), and were a sweeter, with cilantro, cinnamon and nutmeg.

Both turned out AWESOME, especially when dipped in the homemade tahina (sesame paste, lemon, garlic) and hummus (chickpea, paprika, olive oil).

We heated the pita on the stove, to make them soft and warm:

The hummus:

Israeli salad (for which I did not chop the vegetables small enough, says Yoav), along with the tahina and onions for the meat.

SHNITZEL! Yoav's favorite. Pounded chicken breasts, covered in bread crumbs with sesame seads and zatar seasonings. We thought we made enough so there would be leftovers for a straight-out-of-the-fridge-dip-in-hummus- midnight -snack, but we clearly finished them all no problem. Oh well.

Yoav makes a sandwich with his:

And, just so readers get a sense of the table, here is one side:

And the other:

Our side of the table ate more, clearly!

My Birthday Potluck

On Friday, I turned twenty-two years old. 22! In honor of so momentous an event, my house banded together and spent forty-eight (22x2+4?) hours making dough. We kneaded, buttered and rolled until we had three pizza doughs, two challah doughs, one pie dough, and about a billion pairs of pants covered in flour. One of the challahs became a-too-good-to-wait-till-tomorrow midnight birthday cake, while all the rest of the dough got tucked into the over-stuffed refrigerator and saved for my party.

Out of love for my twenty two year old stomach, I hosted a potluck birthday party. While my apartment contributed a surplus of carbs to the table, all of my friends really one-upped us with lasagna, risotto, surf-n-turf nachos, scallops bites, cheese plates, salads, strawberry shortcakes, and lots of wine and beer. It was a real smörgåsbord ( a word I always assumed was Yiddish but now see is actually Swedish?!?!) to be proud of. Here are a few pictures, which will never do justice to the plethora or quality of dishes, but are ample enough to give readers a (virtual) taste:


How we planned our prep


Parm-ing the s**t out of this pizza!


SO PROUD. Pesto, caramelized onion, and goat cheese pizza on our homemade dough!



Our challah, Daniel's ragu lasagna, our scallion turkey balls with soy-ginger sauce (courtesy of NYT), and Kaitlin's asparagus

AJ prepping the steak for his nachos, Sabina's Greek salad, our challah, Matt's tequila (Oh, Matt.)

The table. Notice: AJ's scallop bites on the right, which although meant to be an amuse-bouche of sorts, really stole the show.


Kaitlin and Sophie's strawberry shortcake/angel food cake.


How I look when presented with so many delicacies all at once! FULL MOUTH.


Cutting my cake! Thank you all so much for making my birthday so memorable...

Thanksgiving! Jick Style!

Thanksgiving! For the first time, my mom and I decided to cook Thanksgiving together this year. We pulled out all the recipe books and NYtimes guides and old copies of Gourmet (RIP), but of course, ended up just making the classics we know best. And it came out pretty well! After only five or six hours of cooking, and no fighting whatsoever (!), my mom and I had created a hearty-thanksgiving lunch (2 PM to please Grandma...) that everyone enjoyed.

The dishes were:
- Turkey, stuffed with mushrooms, onions and shallots, coated in butter, baked for 3 hours.
- Mushroom, leek, herb, ciabatta stuffing (with a slight dash of pecorino)
- Mashed potatoes (sans garlic to please grandma, despite my garlic-obsessed whining)
- Sweet potato balls filled with melted marshmallow and covered in honey corn flakes
- Green bean and cream of mushroom casserole (to which I added fresh mushrooms) with French's fried onions on top
- Brussel sprouts with garlic chips
- Salad with homemade candied pecans and cranberries (I don't think anyone ate the salad)
- Cranberry sauce, spicy cranberry chutney, cranberry-orange spread
- Rolls and Pecan bread

This is what the sweet potatoes and stuffing looked like, pre-cooking:


These are the two attempts at candying the pecans, the back batch are burned but the second are perfection. I called Maren for help and she suggested I toast the pecans instead of putting them straight on the stove because they would cook more evenly that way.

These are the appetizers my mom insisted on: chevre spread, brie, mimolete, pear-stilton, lemon olives, asiago crackers, and lavash crackers. My grandma appreciated the spread, but then asked us when the food would be ready.
This is the beautiful table my mom produced, full of coordinated fall colors!
And notice the AMAZING turkey shaped butter she found!! But please don't judge the flower display... My grandmother spent the entire meal criticizing the bouquet and vowing to call the flower store to complain. I don't think it's so bad, but she probably knows better than I do.

THIS IS OUR TURKEY. It is amazing looking. Perfectly browned from the butter-coating and displayed tackily with the corniest little plastic turkeys from CVS (on sale.)
This is my mom making her own gravy which was overwhelmingly preferred to the store bought one we also had.
Final table!



ugh.. those green beans were REALLY good.

And this is my dad being the all-American he is... carving the turkey like a pro.

MY PLATE!!
And now I shall go collapse.

Tuna Melts

My apartment has about 40 cans of tuna, mostly because my housemates and I know that a tuna melt is always a solid, quality, quick fix for hunger. You can't really go wrong. However, we also know that there is a lot of variation on this classic. Observe:

Tonight Jenny and I came back from the library and decided to procrastinate/bond by making tuna melts. Knowing that we both like our tuna melts very differently, we laid out all possible ingredients on the table and brought out two separate bowls in order to make the tuna individually. Not to say that we were in opposition, there was a LOT of teamwork: I opened the cans into the bowls and sliced the tomatoes and laid out the spices while jenny finely diced the red onion. There wasn't a lot of talking, just strict concentration. We now would like to tell you how we each made our melts. We both stand firmly behind our melts and embrace personal preferences in this matter. And we both appreciate each others tuna melts. That's really important.

(Disclaimer: We didn't choose individual breads because we only had one type of bread in the house. It was 12 grain.)

Zoe's Tuna Melt First:

Zoe used a fork in order to make the tuna really shredded. She combined the finely diced red onions into the mix. She added mayo (kind of a bunch, not too much though), extra virgin olive oil, and whole grain dijon mustard. She really likes the grainy spicy mustard. Then she used a lot of salt and pepper, probably even more pepper than salt, and garlic salt. Then she probably added 8 drops of green pepper tabasco, and a dollop of sriracha. That's the tuna salad. Now to the sandwich: she put two slices of american cheese because she likes how it melts. Then two slices of tomato, but cut up so she didn't have to bite into it with her teeth during eating. Then the tuna, then six thin slices of avocado. Then she fried the sandwich with a whole lot of butter on both sides, and when it was done, cut the sandwich diagonally.

Jenny's Tuna Melt Second:

Jenny also shredded her tuna. Her second step was also to put in the onions and mix them. Then comes the pickles. Jenny sliced and diced half a full sour pickle and mixed that up into the tuna. Then, she added two different kinds of mustard. She tends to avoid mayonnaise in her tuna because she feels that the creaminess of mustard does the texture job, and prefers the taste to that of mayonnaise. She puts in whole grain dijon mustard for the tiny little seeds, and then adds regular dijon for the creaminess. Following this, she puts in a little kosher sea salt, and then pours in a hefty amount of pickle juice (but not enough to make it at all soggy). Then, she places in about 8-10 drops of sriracha - almost too much, she realizes after. That's the tuna. On to the sandwich. She cuts Black Diamond Cheddar Cheese into slices and places it on the bread. Then, she slathers the tuna on (very thickly). Following that, the perfectly cut tomatoes (thank you zoe) and layers avocados. On top of the tomatoes, she places yet another layer of Cheddar Cheese. Then, to close, the bread. Finally, butter on both sides and on to the pan it goes. Diagonal cutting as well, of course.

In hindsight, Zoe wishes she had used more cheese, specifically on both sides of the bread. Also she wishes she had used kosher sea salt. She also wishes she had pre-salted and olive oil-ed the tomatoes. Jenny wishes she had put the heat on lower so that her cheddar had melted. She realized that she should have taken into account how much thicker and denser her cheddar is than Zoe's American cheese. Also, maybe it would have been good to use garlic salt.

To close, we would like you to remember not to use the cheese choice as the prime element in your judgment of the sandwiches. We know that the cheddar/American divide is very important in melts, but we would like you to focus on the preparation of the tuna just as much as on your pre-established cheese preferences.

Perils of Central Europe

As Daniel put it, "God, we are in such a meat and potatoes part of the world right now." The culinary claims of Central Europe- currywurst, weinershnitzel, mayonnaise- send most people in either of two directions: a weight loss frenzy, or heart failure. Since Daniel and I had allotted basically five euros a day for museums and a billion gazillion infinity euros a day for food, we started each day with the same attitude, "maybe today should be about eating". Hence, with an extra ten pounds on my butt and with five years less to live, I stand before you: A survivor of Central European food.

Let's begin with the basics. A standard fast food cart looks like this, hailing the typical ketchup and mustard we all know and love. But wait, what is that prominently placed white triangle dispensing? MAYONNAISE. Germans do not even need the ketchup and mustard; they only want mayonnaise. Daniel and I ogled in shock and horror as Berliners stood at high tables drenching their french fries in mayonnaise. Not a dip, a DRENCH. A soak. A drown. A too much.

Don't believe me? Look how much gets dispensed with each pump:



EWW. But actually, not eww. So good. If you're not worried about your waist line or cardiac arrest, I highly recommend throwing out the Heinz for a good splash (I mean, immersion) in mayo's classy egg yolk and vinegar. Mmm.

As if this wasn't enough of a main course already, Berliners typically order their fries with a currywurst. Currywurst is sausage, cut up, covered in ketchup and then flavored with curry. It is death on a plate but it is incredible. European ketchup tends to be sweeter than what we're used to, so the ketchup-curry combo really changes the oily-salty-fried sausage into a tasty, sweet snack. But don't be fooled, as we realized, "that was so good, but now I feel awful".

Once we left Berlin, we though we would be able to give our aching, moaning, groaning bodies a rest. We were wrong. Obviously we couldn't go to Vienna without the classic weinershnitzel. We were excited; as the center of the Hapsburg empire, Viennese cuisine is high class- goose, veal- instead of the fields of pork I had been avoiding for weeks. Unfortunately Vienna seems to be stuck in a porcine fad as well, but finally we found a turkey weinershnitzel for me. It was fried to pefection, with a garlicy batter as light as, say, fish and chips. We plowed in and only when our arteries were crying for help did we come up for air. But as Cental Europe promised, coming up for air means turning from meat to potatos. When you're taking a break and end up treating potato salad like water, you know you're in trouble. This potato salad was amazing though; subtly oniony, not too heavy on the mayonnaise, and the perfect pair with the shnitzel.


If I ever stop burping, I'll admit that Central European food treated me well. I don't regret a single bite, I just never ever want to do it again.

The Adventures of a Sausage Eater

Daniel, my wonderful companion throughout Central Europe, was on a mission. A sausage mission. Well documented throughout every country, here is the Norway chapter. In Bergen, Daniel happened upon a roadside stand proclaiming this fine menu:

Please, notice #7: Reindeer.

At this point, wouldn't you just scream, "Gimme! Gimme!" No, I would not. But Daniel did. He scanned the selection:
And joyfully opted for Reindeer. When in Norway, Right? Look at this expression of glee:


Reindeer sausage comes fully equipped with mustard, friend onions, and cranberry jam. Oh! And free lemonade!


What a happy sausage eater!!

But, readers, beware: This is what happens when you try to eat sausage at 5 am:


Aww.

Bergen, Norway

If I know one thing about breakfast, it's lox. If I know one thing about hungover breakfast, the answer is still lox. But if I know one thing about hungover mornings, the answer is NOT fish market.

Unless, of course, you happen to find yourself in Bergen, Norway. Bergen is a tiny coastal town in Norway known for its beautiful fjords, ungodly sun schedule (all the time, or not at all), and its smoked salmon. I completely forgot that lox doesn't always come from Manhattan (any deli of your preference, I don't want to cause fights). Norwegian smoked salmon is famous- and at its freshest, the Bergen fish market, the salmon really earns its reputation. I guess I should have known... as my mom said when I emailed her,

"I hate to say I told you so but I told you so. It comes from there. Like duh.
Love
Mom"

Here are a few pictures from the spread. There were probably ten stalls, each promoting (in different languages ranging from Italian to German) the same thing: wild smoked salmon, smoked salmon cured with cognac and dill, fresh salmon cuts, and dried whale. We of course tried a bite at each stand, and while most were about the same, the best were the bites with the "Gravlaxsauss"- Norwegian is funny- which is a mustard dill sauce from heaven.



If you wanted more than just samples, there were also seafood plates and sandwiches for cheap Norwegian standards- 4 euro for two bites. Norway is... EXPENSIVE.

The Bergen salmon melts in your mouth. You barely have to chew to enjoy the subtlety of their cognac-cured salmon. And with all the free samples, you're bound to be satisfied. Just don't try the whale; it was disgusting. Like a weird fish steak that didn't really understand what it was trying to be, dried whale sent me gagging to a trash bin. I apologized to the vendor, of course, who gave me an extra bite of salmon to cheer me up and ensure that I would smell like lox for days on end.