A round of cheese, a braided loaf

Sometimes you say no, and sometimes you say yes.

When Ile de France contacted me with an offer to send over one their cheeses to sample, I hesitated. I generally don't like exchanging samples for blog posts, because I don't like being obligated to write about something I might not be excited about. But then I thought about it again—hey, it's cheese! What's not to be excited about?

So when the wheel of Camembert arrived in the mail, I went off in search of a good way to use it. There were chicken breasts in the freezer, and onions on my counter; a batch of bread dough nestled at the bottom of a mixing bowl in my fridge. Once I spotted this post, I had my plan: I would bake a stuffed bread.

After dicing and caramelizing two large onions, I poached three chicken breasts, which yielded about a pound of moist, flavorful cooked meat (I used this method, but omitted the ginger and sherry because I didn't have any). I had about four ounces of turkey ham in the fridge, too, so I diced that up too. For the Camembert, I simply cut the entire wheel into slices after taking off the rind.

I had originally envisioned one loaf, but I soon realized I had enough ingredients for two—even after nearly eight months of living alone, I haven't broken the habit of cooking in mass quantity! To assemble each one, I rolled out the dough on a floured cutting board, trying to achieve an even thickness. I arranged half the chicken, half the turkey ham, and half the caramelized onions down the middle, and then layered half the cheese slices on top. Because the dough was so sticky, my first attempt at braiding the dough pretty much failed miserably, so for the second one I just ended up pressing the ends together on top to seal the dough around the filling. An egg wash would have made them prettier, but I went only with a sprinkle of grated smoked Swiss cheese, and after moving the loaves to a greased cookie sheet and letting the dough rest for ten minutes, I put them both in the oven at 400 degrees for half an hour.*

The resulting loaves came out just as I'd hoped: crusty, chewy bread with a center of chicken pieces, sweet caramelized onion, and salty, smoky bits of turkey ham, all bound by the rich, earthy-tasting Camembert. Not exactly light fare, but utterly comforting and delicious.

I think this recipe is quite flexible, too. You can substitute homemade or store-bought pizza dough instead, or any kind of bread dough really. Roasted chicken instead of poached; a different kind of ham, or bacon; a different type of cheese. Even the caramelized onions can be swapped out for something else—I've been thinking that the cranberry chutney I've got in my fridge might work pretty nicely. Next time!

Camembert, Chicken, and Caramelized Onion Loaf
by Soopling

Makes two large loaves

Bread dough, divided into two portions (I used half the yield from this dough recipe)
16 ounces poached chicken breasts (about 3 medium sized breasts), cut or torn into chunks
4 ounces turkey ham, diced
8 ounces caramelized onions (from about two large onions)
1 wheel Ile de France Camembert (7.7 ounces), sliced into pieces
Egg wash (optional)
1 ounce shredded smoked Swiss cheese (optional)

On a floured cutting board, roll out one bread dough portion into a 9x12 rectangle about one centimeter thick.

Layer half the cheese slices down the middle, and then layer half the chicken, half the turkey ham, and half the caramelized onions on top. Lift the sides of the bread dough up to close over the filling and press the ends together to seal—there shouldn't be any holes in the dough. Transfer to a greased baking sheet, flipping the loaf so that it rests seam-side down on the sheet.

Repeat with other bread dough portion and remaining ingredients. Let assembled loaves rest for ten or fifteen minutes.

Brush loaves with egg wash and/or sprinkle with shredded cheese, and bake in 400 degree oven for 30 minutes.*

*Originally I had written that these loaves should be baked at 350 degrees for half an hour. But I recently learned that my oven has been running 150 degrees too hot—which means that while I had my knob at 300 degrees while baking these loaves (to compensate for my oven running what I thought was 50 degrees hot), they were actually baking at about 450 degrees. And though these breads miraculously came out okay, I did have to rescue them a little early to prevent them from burning. I'm going to say 400 degrees, for half an hour, is the best bet for this recipe.

Let's be friends forever.

This is purely a post to give kudos to JL and LB of FoodMayhem, who when they invite you over to dinner will be excellent hosts that will wine and dine you in style. TL and I made our way over to their apartment and were greeted by a full table of homemade lox, grilled salmon skin, sliced salami, turkey meatballs in puttanesca sauce, shrimp in garlic and chili oil, and a pear, feta, and orzo salad. TL and I also brought over a wedge of Humboldt Fog and wheel of Camembert from Murray's Cheese, which turned out to be a serendipitous choice for the meal. We all had a great time putting together different combinations from the spread to eat atop chunks of crusty homemade bread, which is pretty much my favorite way of eating. And TL went to town on the salmon, since he's a Vancouver boy separated from his fish, and all.

After several rounds of Rock Band, too, there was dessert: chocolate-cappuccino cheesecake squares, the recipe for which you can find here. JL did a beautiful job decorating the squares, and she decorated each of our plates with a curlicue of whipped cream, too, before serving. Should you ever get an invitation to dine at the FoodMayhem household, make sure you don't pass it up.

Sips and nibbles at Wined Up

After spending an afternoon taking advantage of the ridiculous sales taking place in all the stores along Fifth Ave, I made my way over to Broadway and 20th to meet up with DL at Wined Up for a drink and light nosh after she was done with work. Wined Up is the sleek, comfortable wine bar located above the restaurant Punch, and while we had the option of ordering from Punch's dinner menu, we opted to pair our vino with a selection of cheeses instead. How could we not, with both of us being total cheese-lovers?

We chose three—La Tur, Brie de Nangis, and Mil Ovejas—and you can see some of the adjectives Wined Up used to describe the different cheeses in the first photo. I think my favorite was the La Tur; it had the texture of a dense cheesecake, and was perfect alone or spread on a bit of the accompanying grilled bread.

DL wanted dessert, too, so she asked for the bread pudding, which came interspersed with bits of roasted strawberries and was topped with a scoop of amaretto ice cream with cocoa nibs and toasted almonds. This was pretty good, and just the right size.

While I don't know enough about wine to comment on what we drank—except to say that I liked it—I think Wined Up is a great place to linger with nibbles and drinks, especially with the floor-to-ceiling windows at the front offering a nice view of Broadway and beyond. And romantic, too, if you're looking for a date spot.

Bread and cheese combined, at La Casa del Pan

I didn't discover the wonder of pandebono and pao de quieijo—cassava and yucca based cheese breads—until I lived in Astoria. Though the area is best known for its Greek population, there are also plenty of Bangladeshis, Arabics, Brazilians, and Columbians; it was in the bakeries of the latter two that I finally came across these delicious creations.

The very first was at the small Columbian bakery La Casa del Pan. I wandered in one afternoon while exploring the Steinway area shortly after moving into my apartment. As soon as I bit into the pandebono, I was hooked. The combination of thin, slightly crisp outside, fluffy and super-moist inside, and warm, cheesy flavor was perfect to me…I couldn't believe it had taken me so long to discover them.

I started dropping in whenever I passed, and once I made BH swing by before driving me home so that I could pick up a bunch to bring back to my parents. He waited in the car while I dashed in, and I came out triumphantly bearing a sackful that had just recently been in the oven. Their fragrance was divine. Right there in the car, we dug in. The warm, savory insides nearly melted in our mouths, and we went through three of them before stopping ourselves from eating the rest.

Back in the area again several weeks ago over winter break, I had to pick up a few. La Casa del Pan sells cheese breads in three different shapes: a round, puffy bun; a small, flatter ring; and a version of the ring in a larger size—it's all about the ratio of the crust. With most bread I like the innards the best so I'm partial to the non-ring version.

I got three, ate two, and saved the big one to bring home for my parents. I may not live in Astoria anymore, but some habits still remain the same.

Because cheese and fruit is awesome

And easy. Triple-cream brie, sliced Honeycrisp apple, homemade bread. Yay lunch.

Pass the eggs, cheese, and bread

Now that I am a full-time graduate student, my eating lifestyle has changed quite dramatically. Restaurants have all but disappeared from the scene. The urge to roast entire chickens or bake elaborate cakes has decreased in direct proportion to my income (pennies), free time (reading and writing trumps cooking), and people to share meals with ("Eat? I'm poor/I'm studying/I'm grading"). I spend most days preparing my own meals, but what I make tends to be cheap and simple.


Which brings me to eggs, cheese, and bread. I shamefully admit that I ate some variation of these three for nearly the entire first two weeks after I moved to Fort Collins. After that I became more attentive to my meals, but with all that was going on then, it felt so much easier to toast up bread and slice up cheese, fry an egg or two in a pan, and think about food no further. For variety I'd alternate between pepper jack and swiss; throw on some olives or scallions or chopped jalapeños; lay the eggs on top of rice instead of toast; spread on a tablespoon of Branston Pickle for a sandwich. (You'll be relieved to know that after the first week, at least, I started baking my own loaves.) Eggs, cheese, and bread. The trinity; my saviors.

Thankfully, as things settled down, I started exploring some of the small groceries and farmer's markets in my town, and as a result I began cooking again too. Nothing fancy, mind you. But certainly more than laying a slice of shrink-wrapped provolone on packaged bread for the toaster oven. Still, if anyone has a favorite cheeseandegg/eggandbread/breadandcheese/eggbreadandcheese combination, I'd love to hear it!

At 8th Street Wine Cellar, the bacon dish of my dreams

Before I explain what you're looking at up there—no, it's not an ice-cream sundae—let me just say that it was one of the most friggin' delicious preparations I'd put in my mouth for a long time. Two months later, I still dream about it.

But first things first. The above photo was taken at 8th Street Wine Cellar, where I met up with BH for dinner for a few glasses of wine and an assortment of small plates. I had just gotten a haircut and she had come in carrying two huge picture frames, and so we ended up oohing and ahhing for several minutes before getting down to the business of ordering.

We began with a cheese plate…you all know, of course, how much I love cheese. I don't remember clearly, but I believe there was a morbier, a manchego, and something truffle-flecked, all from Stinky Bklyn. The three cheeses came with slices of currant-and-walnut-studded pumpernickel (probably from Amy's Bread) and I believe a tapenade and some kind of chutney. All were pretty good, but I admit to being partial to the truffled cheese: truffles = luv.

We also picked out a "Tuscan Grilled Cheese," which consisted of mozarella, tomatoes, and pesto pressed between ciabatta. Good ingredients, pretty good sandwich.

BH is no fan of seafood, but I had to order the yellowfin tuna sliders, which just sounded right up my alley (I like little burgers!). These came with a marinated cucumber and red onion salad on the side, which was a refreshing accompaniment. The burgers themselves were okay—the whole thing was going for some kind of "Asian" flavor profile, which in this case meant there was ginger in the tuna and sesame oil with the cucumbers. The patty was slightly dry, but maybe that's just the nature of a burger made with cooked tuna.

And okay, okay, back to the photo at top. That was our order of "bacon and figs," which ended up being several slices of very thick-cut bacon that had been broiled and glazed with sweet balsamic vinegar, paired with dried figs and a good dollop of crème fraîche, and then drizzled with more glaze. Altogether, the combination was downright amazing. Smoky, meaty, and savory skipped hand-in-hand with sweet, creamy, and tangy; we all but licked the plate clean. Both BH and I agreed that fresh figs instead of dried would have really ramped it up even more, but that didn't stop us from immediately contemplating another order once we finished it. Such is the power of figs and bacon.

I ended up heading to TL's place after that, bearing cream puffs from Beard Papa for him and his friends, which I thought I was too full to consume but then somehow did anyway. It's obviously true what they say about a separate stomach for dessert….

Casellula: Big, rich flavor on tiny plates

I hadn't seen JH in years, and when he contacted me randomly through this very blog, it was nothing less than appropriate for us to meet again over a delicious meal. Of course, the surprise of seeing one another after nearly seven or eight years was hijacked when I managed to run into him at a bar just days before our actual planned reunion.

This turn of events didn't lessen our desire to hang out though, and while bustling and a little bit loud, the cheese-oriented Casellula seemed like a fine place for a catch-up date. I was a little apprehensive as six months earlier I had tried to plan a small dinner for DL here, but Casellula had insisted on a rather large minimum, an upfront payment of half, and would only allow me to book a table at the ridiculously early hour of 5:30pm. I opted not to make a reservation then, as the whole process left sort of a bad taste in my mouth, but after reading more and more reviews about this restaurant, I wanted to try it anyway.

We started with a cheese plate, the selection of which we left up to the restaurant's cheese gurus. I don't remember the names of the specific cheeses anymore, but the condiments that came with them were memorable: a pesto of sorts (mint?), apple butter, and a thick, grainy mustard. Each matched perfectly with its corresponding cheese.

We decided to split an order of the goose breast reuben, pressed with fontina val d'aosta, a house slaw, and horseradish aioli, and the mac 'n' cheese, made with three cheeses: fol epi, comte, and chevre, as well as lardons and caramelized onions. At first I was dismayed at the size of the tiny skillet of bread-crumbed pasta, but as I dug in I realized how very rich the dish was. Both dishes were, actualy, but their small portion sizes kept them tasty instead of overwhelming.

We were still hungry though, so JH ordered the stuffed peppadew peppers and an order of morcilla and roasted pepper crostini. The former turned out to be another dish that was surprisingly tiny, but the peppadews, stuffed with buffalo mozzarella and wrapped with speck, packed a wallop of flavor that far surpassed their diminutive size. As for the latter, it was good but nothing special, and as our stomachs had begun straining we left the last one on the plate.

Casellula isn't cheap (at $7.00 for the plate, each of those stuffed peppadews cost $1.40 each), but it's still a nice choice for a menu focused on making cheese shine. And they're generous with their wine, too: because they had asked us to switch to another table midway through the meal and we had ambiably scooted over, our server decided to keep on pouring even after our bottle was finished. With a bottle and a half of wine between the two of us and plenty of cheese in our bellies, JH and I definitely had a fine time.

CSA Cookin', Week One

Last week I picked up my first (and possibly only) portion of the CSA vegetable share I had signed up for back in January. Nothing terrible happened—I just simply won't be in New York City anymore and there's too much for me to do these days (packing, moving, etc) for me to cook bushels of greenery every few weeks until I go. At least my brother will take over for me, so maybe he'll cook some veggies for me. Hint, hint.

Since I'm splitting one CSA share with three other people—we set it up so that two people split each week's veg on alternating weeks—here's the half portion I took home: bok choi, half head; Chinese cabbage, half head; red sail lettuce, half head; buttercrunch lettuce, half head; red vein mizuna, one bunch; garlic scapes, two; sage with flowers, one bunch. There was rhubarb and green mizuna as part of our bundle too, but RL took those, and ended up swapping her mizuna for an extra bundle of rhubarb in order to make a proper pot of jam.

I gave half of my head of red mizuna to my folks, and with the other half did kind of a pantry clean-out dish with half a box of thin spaghetti and a cup or two of grated aged gouda that had both been languishing for a while. Basically I sauteed mizuna in a bit of butter (stems first, then leaves) and tossed the mizuna, gouda, and a few ladles of pasta water in with the drained, cooked spaghetti with the heat on low. After a few minutes the cheese melted into a rich coating over the pasta and mizuna, resulting in something between mac 'n' cheese and fettuccine Alfredo.

I was pleased by the pretty color of the mizuna against the spaghetti, but upon eating it I discovered the pasta was heavy with oil. For lunch the next day I tossed in a cut-up grilled chicken breast and some chopped sage, both of which were good pairings, but the pasta still slicked my lips. Next time, less cheese and no butter.

I also did two cheese toasts for dinner the other night, both with French raclette on ciabatta, but one with sage leaves and the other with chopped garlic scapes. I managed to burn both of them, and while the sage toast was still good, I was surprised that the spicy garlic flavor of the scapes had completely disappeared—I know now to eat them raw or just barely cooked, instead. Ah well. But hey, learning about all these new vegetables is all part of the CSA fun....

Where's the cheese? Think Coffee, again

While camping out at Think Coffee one night (a place I've written about before) to finish up a freelance project, I got this cheese plate to quiet my stomach rumblings. The proportion of olives/nuts/etc. to the amount of cheese seemed too high; I prefer a more cheese-centric plate, I guess. As for the cheese, I asked for the Hudson Valley Camembert, which was so creamy and soft it spread like whipped butter, but was just a bit too stinky for me.

Comfortable, easy deliciousness at Prune

I'd passed Prune a million times but had never gotten around to actually eating there. RZ was game to check it out, and after not seeing her for almost a year, it turned out to be the perfect place for a weekday girly catch-up date. The place is cozy and bright, with a friendly staff and a playful vibe.

None of the main dishes appealed to us, so we asked our waiter how we ought to manage our selections. He assured us that getting two appetizers and a vegetable from the main menu and a few small plates from the bar menu would be just fine, so that's what we did. But when our trio from the bar appeared, I knew we were in trouble. What came out—radishes with butter and salt; sardines with triscuits, cornichons, and mustard; Spanish goat cheese with buttered brown bread and red onions—was far more than I expected.

I was totally charmed, though; everything just looked so rustic and agreeable. Eating the fresh radishes and butter—which I'd never tried—made me understand the appeal of the ruddy little globes at last. They were crisp and spicy, and when paired with a smear of creamy butter and a sprinkle of salt, were refreshing and decadent at the same time. I hadn't eaten sardines before either; my only knowledge of them was that they were small and came packed in their proverbial cans. The fat, meaty filets we were given weren't anything like what I had imagined, and in a good way.

After these three I was already near-full, but the march had to go on. So out came the tender asparagus tips in browned butter with an egg yolk, and huge fried sweetbreads with bacon and capers, very different from the ones I had in New Orleans.

Followed by roasted marrow bones. The tall tubes seemed enchanted—each was an endless well of smooth, unctuous, beefy fat. The vinaigrette-slicked salad of parsley, capers, cornichons, and pickled red onions was just the right accompaniment to keep the marrow from being too crazy rich.

Dessert was an odd concoction of chocolate-cherry bread, raw goat's cheese, and a weird pine nut butter which somehow tasted like pork fat. All together or in various combinations, none of the three seemed to quite work together. I was happy to just eat the excellent cheese by itself, but also so stuffed at that point I was beyond real enjoyment.

Prune is a place I could easily imagine being a regular spot. The food is unpretentious and delicious, the environment delightful and welcoming. Our check arrived with two chubby hunks of dark chocolate sitting on top, just for fun. Since both RZ and I were mourning the fact that Prune was out of their monkfish liver with buttered toast that night, it's only a matter of time before I head back!

Making (up) with Murray's

If you remember my post about the experience I had with the Making with Murray's class at Murray's Cheese Shop, here's an update! A few days ago I finally received an email from Taylor—the Classroom Coordinator at Murray's—with "My Sincerest Apologies" as the subject heading. After apologizing for not responding earlier, she (very thoroughly) answered all of my concerns, some of which I realize had come out of my own misunderstanding. When I looked at the description again, I could see how while it could be read as being a hands-on class (when AT had emailed it to several of us, we had all made the same assumption), it had also really never stated that the class would be as such. As for the five person vs. twenty person bit, I think I had misunderstood the idea of "five spots remaining" as "five spots total."

Oh, don't say it. I know I'm a moron.

But then! Despite much of the issue being due to my own careless reading, Taylor very graciously invited me (and a guest) back for another class. I passed it up at first since I felt like it was my own fault, but she wrote back again and shoot, it's cheese, am I really supposed to resist CHEESE? So yah. I'm goin' back. Murray's, you've won me again with your stinky, nutty charm.

Making (nothing) with Murray's

The selection of cheeses at the Making With Murray's class held at Murray's Cheese Shop. I'd taken both a Cheese 101 class and done a cave tour here, and I was excited to be actually creating some of the stinky stuff myself. When I registered, the description indicated that five students would be getting a chance to make fresh ricotta and mozzarella—so why did I walk in to find a tasting plate sitting in front of me?

It turns out that unbeknownst to me, the format of the Making With Murray's class had changed into that of a twenty-five-person tasting with a demonstration. The cost of the class hadn't changed though (this one was $75 instead of their usual $50, which I had paid when I initially registered). I suppose you could argue that the cheesemaking kit we received offset the extra cost, but without the benefits of a hands-on experience and focused instruction, Making With Murray's had essentially become a regular tasting class combined with the purchase of a kit that I didn't want. The length of the class had changed too, with the end time set a half hour later than previously indicated.

I like the classes at Murray's, but it's worth it to check again to make sure you're getting what you signed up for. And don't expect any explanation for unannounced changes—my queries to Murray's about the situation have gone unanswered.

EDIT, 5.8.08
There is a second part to this story! Read about it here: Making (up) with Murray's

A Swiss fulfilled

Up until two weeks ago, despite my intense, undying love of cheese, I'd never had fondue. Oh, I'd fantasized about it for years, mentally drooling over the idea of dipping crusty bread and other tasty morsels into a large pot of melted cheese as a meal. And I'd contemplated having a fondue party many times. But I could never seem to find someone willing to seek out the dish in a restaurant with me, and it seemed like too many of my friends were lactose intolerant for a party to be feasible.

But after successfully convincing DL, AT, and RA to take a Cheese 101 class at Murray's with me, I began suspecting that I had more curd-enthusiast friends than I realized. And after another friend unexpectedly agreed to accompany me on a tour of Murray's underground caves, I was sure of it. In fact, the more I talked about cheese, the more cheese-lovers seemed to come out of the (caves).

The idea of hosting a dinner began ripening again. I knew it was time for me to lose my fondue innocence.

Once I chose the date and invited a few friends, I picked a basic recipe from this article, serendipitously published several weeks after I decided to have the dinner. From there I also learned that there was no need to use a specialized fondue set, when an enamel-lined cast-iron pot worked perfectly well. As I already had the pot, I had to only purchase a few sets of forks and I was set.

There's about two and a half pounds of cheese in the picture above: a little more than a pound of cave-aged gruyere, and the rest emmental.

For appetizers, I laid out red grapes, cornichons, pickled herring, country pâté, and some thin slices of toasted bread.

After everyone had arrived, I brought out the rest of the spread: apple chunks; cubes of toasted bread; steamed and quartered red potatoes; lightly steamed broccoli and cauliflower; sliced sun-dried tomato sausage and chicken-apple sausage; roasted red pepper meatballs. The fondue itself took only about fifteen minutes on the stove, and was surprisingly adaptable—when I decided that the cheese was too thick, I simply added several more glugs of white wine and it was fine. Once the sauce was smooth and melted, I brought the pot out to the table.

It was time to dig in!

Sausage chunk, and underneath that cheese hides a potato. Yum.

My first bite of fondue, after so many years of expectation, was everything I'd hoped it to be. My cube of bread emerged from the pot wrapped in creamy, nutty cheese and the combination, once deposited in my mouth, was divine. It was rich, funky, chewy, savory, delicious. As I tried out the other dipping options, I came to the happy conclusion that almost everything can be improved by a coat of melted cheese.

Fondue is a surprisingly stress-free meal to put together. Almost all of the accompaniments can be prepped in advance, leaving only the fondue to heat on the stove once guests have arrived. And if you're not baking your own bread, as I did, it gets even easier. With "grate" friends and conversation as the final ingredients, there's no better "whey" to throw a party. :)

Recipe:
"Classic Fondue," The New York Times

Astoria, Astoria

Last Sunday I spent a lazy afternoon walking around my 'hood, making my way from my apartment all the way up to the Ditmars area, stopping at Astoria Park along the way.

I wandered around for several hours, moseying down new streets, taking photos, and cooing at the dogs I saw at Bugsy's dog run. After all that I got hungry, so at Ditmars I looked around for something interesting I could bring back to my apartment for dinner. I passed up a cannoli from one of my favorite bakeries, Rose and Joe's, in favor of a small pignoli tart from La Guli.

Later, spotting the grand opening banners at Parrot Coffee Market, I wandered into what turned out to be a new international grocery, full of all sorts of interesting European imports. The friendly woman behind the counter urged me to sample a piece of their freshly made pistachio Turkish delight. It was delish…I can totally see why Edmund sold out to the White Witch.

I was tempted to buy some, but as I already had the pignoli tart I went with a slice of their cheese bourek.

I also picked up these tubes of "Krabben" and "Kaviar" creme (maybe I should spell it "kreme") for LB and JL. Then, too lazy to make the walk home, I hopped on the N train back to my apartment.

It was a fine afternoon.