Mother's Day entertaining; I eat nieh ban at last

There was little time to rest after MH and I returned to our apartment from the diner. The place was a wreck, and we only had a few hours to clean, cook, and make ourselves presentable for our parents, who were coming over for dinner.

My parents and MH's parents have long been friends, and when MH and I were younger they saw each other frequently because we would always be at each other's houses. But as we've grown less dependent on our folks and also stopped living at home, they've had fewer chances to spend time with each other…and with me headed to Colorado, there would be even less. So when MH decided to move in for the summer, we pegged Mother's Day as a good opportunity to get them together.

Thankfully, my brother had agreed to handle the bulk of the meal, so aside from wiping away the sticky remains of spilled alcohol from every surface, I only had to prep some vegetables and slice some potatoes.

Big bro had prepared several dishes in his own apartment beforehand, so once he arrived things were pretty easy. Above is a roasted black bean, red onion, and sweet potato salad that we put on top of greens my parents brought over from their garden, and a pile of cumin-roasted cauliflower. He had also made a puree from the roasted cauliflower which ended up being almost like a pâté, so we served that with wedges of toasted bread.

For the main entree, we laid down a bed of thinly sliced potatoes and fresh tomatoes, roasted this for an hour until the potatoes were done and the tomatoes were a bit caramelized, topped it with tilapia that had been marinating in a lemony, garlicky, herb-filled chermoula sauce, and then popped the whole thing back into the oven for another twelve minutes or so.

When the fish was done, we served the dish over couscous that we had prepared with tomatoes and flat-leaf parsley. Altogether it was a light and fresh-tasting main, and the bright chermoula sauce went well with practically everything.

On top of all this, Monica's folks had brought over a pile of nieh ban, chewy, sticky rice-dough dumplings filled with a savory dried turnip and pork filling. The above is the kind I thought I was getting when I bought this one, and ended up all disappointed by the completely different filling inside. When MH heard me lamenting that I couldn't find nieh ban anywhere, she let me in on a bit of titillating information: her parents know a woman. A nieh ban dealer, if you will.

I don't know the details, but apparently this woman makes batches of these inside her Flushing apartment, and all MH's parents had to do was pick up the phone and tell her how many they wanted. Imagine! Practically unlimited access to nieh ban! And they are utterly delicious. I only had one, as they are pretty heavy, but all throughout the meal I was eyeing the rest of them, trying to decide if I had room for another.

This joint Mother's Day was lovely, I think, for everyone. And after sending off our mothers with the beautiful flower bouquets that our friend EK had prepared for us, MH and I finally found time to rest, an intense weekend of entertaining behind us.

Elation and celebration: Cake, champagne, and Bel-Aire Diner

The day before Mother's Day, in honor of a number of events—including a graduation, a new job, new roommates, and in order to bid farewell to an old roommate—MH and I hosted a small party in our apartment. It will probably be our only shindig, since MH is studying for the bar exam these days and me, well, I'm moving out of this city at the end of summer. I decided last month to accept the opportunity to pursue an MFA degree in Fiction…in Colorado.

Let me lay out how crazy this is for me. I'll be going from this:



To this:

It's nuts, yo! But I'm psyched. A change of pace and environment should be good for me—I've lived in New York City all my life, after all. I don't know what's going to become of this blog once I relocate, but hopefully it'll remain (or turn into) something interesting. But I make no promises; I haven't the faintest idea of what awaits me out there. Um, any Coloradoan readers lurking? I'd love to hear from you.

This is the bottle of champagne that AT left on my desk once I told her the news. Hooray.


Anyway, back to the party. Do you like our very dorkily decorated cake, above? (Yes, I am the dork.) That huge, moist, chocolate cake is from Costco, and it's pretty good, though also extremely sweet. We also had a bunch of other food for our guests: pigs in a blanket, which seemed to disappear in about five seconds flat every time I brought out more; palitaw rolled in sesame and coconut; roasted garlic to spread on homemade wheat bread; and roasted potatoes with a sweet chili-mayonnaise dip. There was also hummus, pita chips, crudite, pineapple, assorted pickles, two types of goat cheese, and brie.

Here's the full spread. It looks all neat, because I took this photo before most people had arrived.

With the clanking river of wine, beer, and alcohol that entered our door that night, it was inevitable that this party was destined to rock until the break of dawn. And aside from two visits from the cops, all went pretty much as expected, including the requisite few friends crashing out on our couch. The next day, after finally managing to rouse ourselves, we all hit up Bel-Aire Diner for some sustenance.

An omelette, toast, and home fries: the breakfast of hangovers. Nothing special, but it provided fuel. A good thing too, since once breakfast was over MH and I had to clean up the apartment in preparation for our parents coming over for dinner that night (more on that later).

Since I'm moving soon, I've started attempting to clear out my possessions. At the party I managed to give away a bunch of books, but this pile still remains. Books, anyone? If you're in the NYC area, get in touch.

A socks-rockin salad-off: The winners, and their recipes

Catch up here!

BigJeff spent awhile counting up the votes, and then we all gathered 'round to hear his pronouncement. Without further ado:

Third Place:

A goat cheese, dried cranberry, pistachio, and couscous salad. Made by...me! I know, I know, I'm family so I probably won illegally, but I'll fight you if you try to take away my prize, a charming pair of metal tongs.

Goaty, Nutty, Fruity Whole Wheat Couscous Salad
by Soopling

2 cups whole wheat couscous (instead of the now-out-of-stock quinoa you were originally aiming for)
1.5 cups dried cranberries (from bag miraculously in pantry when you thought you'd eaten them)
1.5 cups roasted, unsalted pistachios (plus a few handfuls for snacking while you make the salad)
7 or 8 ounces, or 1 large log goat cheese (left over from a Greenteam anniversary party)
1 cup chopped scallions (which sits in your fridge, for soba)
1/2 cup lemon juice (from fresh fruit, or from a bottle when you realize you forgot to buy some)
1/2 cup good olive oil (that your friends brought back from Italy for you)
Mixed greens (that you've stolen from your roommate)
2 tablespoons sugar
Salt-N-Pepa

Bring two cups of water and a little salt to a boil. In a large pot, measure out two cups of couscous, spilling some all over the counter as you do so. Pour the boiling water over the couscous, stir, cover, and then let stand. After five minutes, uncover and fluff up the grains using a fork. Let cool.

In the meanwhile, combine your shoddy bottled lemon juice (or your delicious, fresh-squeezed lemon juice) with olive oil, sugar, several generous grinds of black pepper, and a sprinkling of salt. Use your couscous-fluffing fork to blend together, or use an actual whisk, you lazy ass. Set aside.

Use a large knife to attempt slicing the log of goat cheese into cute little chunks and become dismayed when the cheese adheres to the knife and does not slice. Give up and break up cheese into large, ungainly chunks with your fingers instead. Set aside.

Add cranberries, pistachios, and scallions (reserving a handful of each to top the salad later) to the cooled couscous. Stir in the lemon-olive oil mixture. When well combined, add the goat cheese chunks and toss gently (again, reserve a handful of goat cheese for later).

Line the bottom and sides of your serving bowl with the mixed greens. Spoon the couscous salad on top, cursing when all the greens sink to the bottom and become obscured. Arrange some new greens around the edges of the couscous like a ridiculous wreath. Top with remaining goat cheese, pistachios, cranberries, and scallions, and a few more grinds of black pepper and salt. Serve at room temp. Feeds 8, or 30-35 rambunctious salad-off participants.

Second Place:

C-Monkey's potato salad, which boasted the addictive combination of bacon, pickled jalapeños, and cumin. He received an bright red, eco-friendly colander for his achievement.

The Squealing Kaiser
by C-Monkey

1 tablespoon cumin seeds
1/4 cup fresh lemon juice
1/2 cup extra-virgin olive oil
8 oz (half-pack) bacon
2 pounds red-skinned new potatoes, unpeeled, cut into 1-inch pieces
1 tablespoon salt
4 large hard-boiled eggs, peeled, coarsely chopped
2 green onions, thinly sliced
3 tablespoons chopped red onion
1/4 cup chopped fresh cilantro
1 heaping tablespoon chopped, seeded, and drained pickled jalapeño chilies from jar, and 2 tablespoons reserved liquid

Toast cumin seeds in heavy small skillet over medium heat until fragrant, about 30 seconds, and cool. Using a spice grinder, coarsely grind cumin seeds. Transfer to medium bowl. Whisk in lemon juice, then oil. Season dressing to taste with salt and pepper. (Can be made 2 hours ahead; let stand at room temperature.)

Cook bacon to your preference, and chop or crumble. Set aside.

Place potatoes in large pot. Add enough cold water to cover and 1 tablespoon salt. Boil potatoes until tender when pierced with skewer, about 8 minutes. Drain. Transfer to large bowl.

To the potatoes, add eggs, green onions, red onion, cilantro, jalapeño chilies, bacon, and 2 tablespoons chili liquid. Pour dressing over salad; toss to coat. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Transfer to serving bowl.

Serve warm or at room temperature. This salad can be made 2 hours ahead; let stand at room temperature.

First Place!

Latecomer HertzSoGood slipped in with a savory barley, wild rice, and asparagus salad, and managed to take top prize, winning a pair of beautiful wooden salad servers. Hooray!

Barley, Wild Rice, and Asparagus Salad with Soy-Ginger Vinaigrette
adapted from Once Upon A Tart... by HertzSoGood

Salad
2 cups cold salted water (for rice)
1/2 cup wild rice (rinsed in a bowl with cold water and drained)
4 cups cold salted water (for barley)
1.5 cups barley (also rinsed in a bowl with cold water and drained)
2 tablespoons canola or vegetable oil
2-inch piece fresh ginger, peeled and julienned
1 pound fresh asparagus (break off tips and cut diagonally into 2-inch pieces)
1 teaspoon salt
1 ripe avocado, halved, pitted, and diced
Soy-Ginger Vinaigrette (see below)

Place 2 cups water and rice in large saucepan and bring to boil over high heat. Lower heat, and simmer, uncovered, for 40-45 minutes, until the rice is tender but still chewy. (DON'T OVERCOOK!)

While rice is cooking, put 4 cups water and barley in a separate saucepan and bring to boil over high heat. Lower the heat, and simmer, uncovered, for 25-30 minutes, until barley is tender to the bite but not mushy. (DON'T OVERCOOK!)

Remove both pots of grain from heat and drain each separately in a colander. Then dump both together in one big bowl. Warm oil in a large saute pan or wok over high heat. Add the ginger and saute until until golden brown. With flame still high, add asparagus. Stir frequently until asparagus is tender. (DON'T OVERCOOK!) When it's done, dump everything in the pan on top of the grains.

Just before you serve the salad, pour the vinaigrette over the grains and vegetables, add the salt, and toss it all with your hands (or a large spoon if you're too wussy to use your hands). Add the avocado cubes midway through the tossing. Serve right away, at room temp.

Soy-Ginger Vinaigrette
Juice of 1 lemon (3 tablespoons-ish)
1/4 cup apple-cider vinegar
2 tablespoons honey
1-inch piece fresh ginger, peeled and finely grated
1/4 cup tamari or soy sauce
1 1/2 teaspoons salt
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
3/4 cup canola or vegetable oil

Whisk together all the ingredients except the oil in a bowl. Then add the oil in a slow, thin, steady stream while whisking. Try to form a smooth, creamy emulsion, so that the oil doesn't separate later and sink to the bottom of the salad.

And so...

Runaway birthday balloons, floating off into the sky.

We had spent many great, joyous hours in the park, but after the winners were announced it was pretty much time to call it a day. Happy birthday BigJeff, and congratulations everyone! If there's a future salad-off in the works, you can bet I'll show up with my grain-game on. Wooden salad servers, you SHALL BE MINE.

A socks-rockin' salad-off

For the "friend" segment of my brother's birthday celebration (vs. the "family" segment), peeps traveled from all corners of the city to Prospect Park in Brooklyn for a blow-out picnic salad-off. (Yes, my brother has surely changed his ways; once upon a time this would have been a wing-off instead.) It was a windy day, as you can see from the angle of the balloons above, but the sun was shining brightly and everyone was in high spirits. In addition to all the picnic supplies, my brother had brought four different types of salad he'd made, and I'd provided a hoard of carbohydrates: whole wheat flatbread, puffy white pita bread, a crusty garlic loaf; and a crusty plain white loaf. We were ready to SALAD.

People arrived on bike and foot, bearing their creations. Our posse was doubled by the addition of a renegade group of salad-crashers headed by BH, who had come with their own food but who were nonetheless enamored by the array of dressed veggies glistening in wooden bowls on the blanket.


I couldn't keep track of all of them, but here are a few up close (clockwise from top left): crunchy fruit and vegetable salad (recipe here); tuna salad; cauliflower, zucchini, orange, and basil salad; feta, grape tomato, cucumber, and red onion salad.

Ready for self-service.

Yes, this was a salad-off, with winners (and losers) to be determined at the end. But then again, there was also a beautiful birthday cake. Chewy-crisp chocolate chip cookies. A moist chocolate cake. And delicious homemade smoked salmon. I'd say these were decidedly non-salad entrants, but no one, no one is complaining here.

We spent the day eating, making new friends, playing sports, and even shucking oysters. We sampled the different creations people had whipped up and submitted the names of our top three favorites.

Dogs like salad, too.

As the sun became obscured by clouds and the wind began gusting, people started pulling on sweatshirts and huddling in closer and closer to one another. It was only a matter of time before we would have to surrender to the cold and pack up. And so it was decided: time to call voting to a close. Salad-off, tally ho!

Up next: The winners, and their recipes

I dip you dip we dip

At the premiere of the new IMAX film Grand Canyon Adventure: River at Risk, hors d'oeuvres and beverages abounded, including trays of these thoroughly charming mini ice cream cones filled with smoked salmon cream and dipped in poppy or sesame seeds. This is a cute presentation that I imagine could lend itself to any kind of soft dip or spread, which could be piped into the cones and then dipped into seeds, spices, chopped herbs, or anything teeny-tiny that could stand in for sprinkles. Where to get the cones and specially fitted trays is another matter, though.


Other eats at the premiere: rare steak on baguette round, with horseradish cream; corn cake topped with chicken salad; mini sausage pizza-like thing; mini empanada. All tasty tasty.

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