Serious Eats |
- Great Ethiopian Eats at Azla in South Los Angeles
- Imperial Woodpecker Sno-Balls Are Your New York Heatwave Antidote
- The Quick Fix: Hornitos Lime Shot
- Welcome Erin Jackson, AHT's New Contributing Editor
- Grilling: Cremini Mushrooms Stuffed with Basil- and Parmesan-Mayo
- Send Your NYC Restaurant Questions to 'Ask the Critic'
- Use Invert Sugars Like Corn Syrup for Smoother, Less Icy Sorbet
- How to Make Gloriously Fatty Pork Roll Rachel Sandwiches
- Open Thread: How Do You Beat the Heat in Chicago?
- A Sandwich a Day: Italian Sub at Brad's Cafe
- We Eat Everything at the Ramadan Buffet at Olive Tree in Anaheim
- How To Make The Modernist Cuisine Cheeseburger, Fries, and Shake
- Sugar Rush: Custard Filled Long Johns at Holtman's Donuts, Cincinnati
- Ask a Cicerone: What's Your Least Favorite Style of Beer?
- Amazing Seafood at Newark Neighborhood Joint Seabra's Marisqueira
| Great Ethiopian Eats at Azla in South Los Angeles Posted: 18 Jul 2013 12:35 PM PDT
[Photographs: Javier Cabral] An Ethiopian restaurant outside of LA's Little Ethiopia restaurant row? Now, there's a thought! There aren't many of them in this town, but Azla, a new family-run operation in South LA's Mercado La Paloma food court, is making a name for itself with excellent homestyle Ethiopian eats. Full disclosure: this place is vegan. But hey, so is a lot of Ethiopian food by default, so don't trip out just yet. And whatever you do, do not miss out on Azla's excellent injera, Ethiopia's all-purpose flatbread/crepe/pancake designed to scoop and eat everything in sight. This injera is not for the faint of palate: it's on the thinner side and a little chewy, and Warhead-level sour to boot. The gluten-free pancake is made with a super-secret ratio of teff flour and quinoa to make it delightfully bready. Mama Azla is not vegan herself, but half of her six children are (the other half are vegetarian). As a result, she's become quite adept at cooking plants for her kids, and now the public. She has five Ethiopian stews on deck every day—my favorite is the faintly spicy, berbere-lacquered Misir, red lentils cooked with a homemade Ethiopian spice blend that includes Gondar-sourced cardamon, holy basil and chili peppers. It's peppery to say the least, but when you sop it up with freshly griddled injera, this stew is unforgettable. Our superfood friend kale gets the Ethiopian treatment as well in Azla's Gomen dish. It's cooked until tender with garlic and then fortified with meaty collard greens, which add a slightly bitter note. Azla has a rotating selection of daily specials as well, and you'd do well to try whatever she's cooking that day. Salad wise, the Keysir, tender beets marinated in balsamic vinegar and topped with tangy red onions, provides a much-appreciated sweet and bright punch to your mini injera tacos. To wash it down, grab a locally-sourced bottle of kombucha tea or a lightly sweetened tumbler of chilled sorrel water, vibrantly colored with hibiscus blossoms and spiced with cinnamon and ginger. Azla3655 S Grand Ave. Ste C2 Los Angeles, CA 90007 (map)213-745-7455 About the author: Javier Cabral loves to eat cactus and kalguksu too, he is a new contributing writer to Serious Eats. You can follow him on Twitter at @theglutster.        |
| Imperial Woodpecker Sno-Balls Are Your New York Heatwave Antidote Posted: 18 Jul 2013 02:40 PM PDT [Photographs: Niko Triantafillou] Yup, it's hot this week. Defcon 1 hot. Hairdryer blowing in your face all day hot. To find an antidote to heat like this, I turned to a food city that's no stranger to super-hot, humid weather—New Orleans. This is the third summer that New Orleans native Neesa Peterson has operated Imperial Woodpecker Sno-Balls downtown. She serves "authentic Louisiana shave ice" out of a 60 square foot stall on Gansevoort Street. Shave ice (not "shaved ice") is different than a snow cone where the ice is crushed. Shave ice is actually shaved from a giant block of ice, often using a special machine that was invented in Louisiana. The very fine shavings of ice absorb syrup better than chunks in a sno cone. Imperial Woodpecker offers over 80 different flavors, mostly in syrup form, to infuse in your shave ice. They also offer cream-style flavors that are slightly less sweet, like almond cream and coconut. If you still need something with less sugar than that, there are all natural flavors like watermelon and green tea with little or no added sugar. The others, in the New Orleans style, hew towards sweet. 80+ flavors is a lot to consider, but don't get overwhelmed and over-think it. The ices are all refreshing, whether you go with an ultra-sugary classic like raspberry or the all natural Meyer lemon and basil. And remember, the syrup in a properly made shave ice won't gather and concentrate at the bottom. Among the classic syrups, I recommend the wild strawberry and grape, which remind me of the soft drinks they used to serve in New York's pizza shops in the 70's. The fluorescent colors, super-high sugar content and the acidic (and slightly artificial) flavors always hit the spot. In the all natural category, I enjoyed the Meyer lemon and basil. It was just as refreshing as the syrup-based flavors but more slightly more tart than sweet. Another less-sweet winner: chicory coffee cream. It's like a creamy iced coffee with extra milk and sugar. If you don't mind super-sweet flavors but want some added dimension, get one of the classic flavors topped with sweetened condensed milk or vanilla ice cream. Prices range from three to nine dollars depending on size. Add condensed milk, marshmallow topping or ice cream for an additional dollar. Imperial Woodpecker Sno-Balls55 Gansevoort Street, New York, NY 10014 (map) About the author: Native New Yorker Niko Triantafillou is the founder of DessertBuzz.com. You can follow him on Twitter at @DessertBuzz.    |
| The Quick Fix: Hornitos Lime Shot Posted: 17 Jul 2013 09:48 AM PDT I tend to think that everyone should live in an ideal world when it comes to treating oneself to the joys of an alcoholic beverage. Bars should be fully stocked, budgets should be at most a guideline, and hangovers a figment of the imagination. However, the reality is that most drinkers (myself included) live in the real world—a messy place with bank accounts, overworked livers, and missing essential ingredients. And in this world of compromises, most of us need to take shortcuts from time to time. Enter today's booze: the Hornitos Lime Shot. Billed as single bottle replacement for the time-honored tradition of the tequila shot with lime and salt, Hornitos takes their plata 100% blue agave tequila and blends it with natural lime flavor and salt, served up at 70 proof. The time-saver approach isn't exactly a novel concept, especially for tequila (raise your hand if you've bought margarita-in-a-bottle, thinking 'maybe this one will be good'...), but if this bottle can save a citrus-starved party from staying sober, I figure it's got a market. Poured straight from the bottle, there's actually a beguilingly compelling lime scent coming off the glass—it's not freshly squeezed citrus, but let's say the best lime juice from concentrate you've ever sniffed. That blends nicely with the herbal aroma of the tequila, and there's only a faint whiff of something artificial. Taken quickly as a shot at room temperature, the structure of the drink stumbles a bit—it's slightly sweet with a suspiciously heavy texture—but the finish is clean and warming with just a hint of salt to carry away the vapors. The tequila is very much present in the mix, and does a good job of grounding the drink. After chilling the bottle in the freezer, the experience improves dramatically. The sweetness is more balanced, and the shot feels more well-integrated. Is this better than a bottle of good tequila and a squeeze of real lime? No. Definitely not. However, it's head and shoulders above any other pre-bottled product I've ever tried. The agave character of the (real) tequila is preserved, and the flavoring has a light touch. A splash of tonic or orange juice elevates the booze to almost-cocktail status. Finally, and perhaps most importantly, the price is right. At a suggested price between $18 and 20, it's actually cheaper than the real tequila + lime alternative. This isn't going to replace your top shelf tequila experience, but there's a time and a place for the one stop shot, and when you get there, the Hornitos Lime Shot doesn't disappoint. About the author: Andrew Strenio is a lover of all things potable. Since sneaking his grandmother's bourbon balls, he's moved on to touring distilleries and sipping snifters. He works by day making documentary television and films for an independent production company in Brooklyn. Sample provided for review consideration.
The Serious Eats Guide to Tequila    |
| Welcome Erin Jackson, AHT's New Contributing Editor Posted: 18 Jul 2013 01:13 PM PDT Erin, there are just some burgers you can't eat. [pat pat] In 2008, AHT founder Adam Kuban handed me his editorial burger crown. After hogging it for five years, I'm happy to announce that starting next week I'll be sharing the crown with Erin Jackson, AHT's new contributing editor! Erin knows her way around the burger block—she's been our San Diego correspondent for the last three years and is still going strong. She'll continue her seemingly never-ending quest to eat the best burgers in San Diego while sharing more burger-related content with AHT readers. I'll still be here, just sitting quietly in the background of AHT as the rest of the Serious Eats family About the author: Robyn Lee is the editor of A Hamburger Today and takes many of the photos for Serious Eats. She'll also doodle cute stuff when necessary. Read more from Robyn at her personal food blog, The Girl Who Ate Everything. Love hamburgers? Then you'll Like AHT on Facebook! And go follow us on Twitter and Pinterest while you're at it!    |
| Grilling: Cremini Mushrooms Stuffed with Basil- and Parmesan-Mayo Posted: 19 Jul 2013 10:21 AM PDT [ Photographs: Joshua Bousel ] What a recent extended vacation in Spain has given me—besides an insatiable appetite for Iberico ham—is a new appreciation of the simple things. The most memorable tapas tended to include just a few ingredients that came together to heighten their centerpiece in ways I haven't quite experienced before. One of those small plates came from the unassuming Bar Las Golondrinas in the Triana neighborhood of Sevilla. Simply labeled "champiñónes" (mushrooms) on the menu, what came out were entire caps, well seasoned and grilled until tender with a slight chew. In the middle of each was a dollop of a green, garlicky mayo that added a nice, creamy texture and a sharp bite and herbal character that paired incredibly well the earthy mushrooms. Luckily, this was an easy one to recreate at home, just grill creminis, and stuff with a flavored mayo—my version had basil, parmesan, and garlic. Simple and quick and with so much to love in one or two bites, I think these will become a common appetizer or side in my repertoire. About the author: Joshua Bousel brings you a new, tasty condiment each Wednesday and a recipe for weekend grilling every Friday. He also writes about grilling and barbecue on his blog The Meatwave whenever he can be pulled away from his grill. Get the Recipe!    |
| Send Your NYC Restaurant Questions to 'Ask the Critic' Posted: 18 Jul 2013 01:30 PM PDT [Illustration: Robyn Lee] On this week's Ask the Critic, Carey talked to four fine dining chefs about how dinner guests with food allergies can still enjoy tasting menus. The key? Call in advance and be specific. Have a question of your own you want answered? Email carey@seriouseats.com with the subject line Ask the Critic to submit your question. All emails will be read, but unfortunately not all can be answered. We look forward to hearing from you! Previously on Ask the Critic
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| Use Invert Sugars Like Corn Syrup for Smoother, Less Icy Sorbet Posted: 19 Jul 2013 12:39 PM PDT [Photographs: Robyn Lee] Here's a little primer on how corn syrup gets made. First, corn cobs are squeezed under extreme mechanical pressure to extract all their starchy, sugary juices. The juice is cooked with calcium hydroxide (lime) to kill any enzymes, after which it's cooked further in big pots until most of its water evaporates and it concentrates down to a thick syrup. The syrup gets so saturated that sugar crystals fall out of the solution. The crystals are then drained, centrifuged, dried, and bleached of impurities with sulphur or carbon dioxide. Oh, wait, I got my notes mixed up. That's the process for refining sugar from sugar cane. After years of making ice cream and sorbet, I have no bigger gripe than hearing complaints about using corn syrup in recipes. "I don't like using unnatural or processed foods," people tell me. "I just don't think corn syrup is good for me." You're right. Corn syrup isn't good for you. But neither is refined sugar, or ice cream for that matter. If using highly processed ingredients is a problem for you, you may want to rethink making desserts from scratch. And to be clear, we're not talking about high fructose corn syrup. The Karo syrup you buy at the grocery store is an entirely different product. When recipe writers call for corn syrup, they aren't doing it for kicks. So why do I use it in some of my sorbets and sherbets? Because corn syrup is an invert sugar, and invert sugars make sorbets smoother and less icy. The pros use invert sugars in some of their recipes, and you should too. The Scoop on Invert SugarsWhat's so special about invert sugar? It has two properties conducive to good sorbet: Invert sugars are more viscous than sugar syrup. Many sorbet recipes call for making a syrup of sugar and water, then adding that syrup to a fruit purée. If you've done this, you've probably noticed that the sugar syrup you make isn't very thick. Corn syrup, on the other hand, is quite viscous, and it adds a rich, full-bodied texture to a sorbet base. The thicker a sorbet base, the creamier it'll be. Many invert sugars are less sweet than table sugar. Nothing impacts the texture of a sorbet more than how much sugar is in it. Sorbet needs plenty of sugar to stay soft and scoopable, and sometimes the amount of sugar you need for a smooth texture makes a sorbet that tastes candy sweet. But if an invert sugar is less sweet than table sugar, you can use more of it without killing the sorbet with sweetness. Invert sugars also resist crystallization, which isn't too vital for ice cream but is a big help for candy makers. The Pros of Using Corn SyrupFour lemon sorbets with equal sweetness, but made with different amounts of corn syrup and sugar. Now let's look at corn syrup, which is very thick and gooey, impervious to crystallization, and only 33% as sweet as table sugar (by weight).* There are other invert sugars on the market like glucose and Trimoline (invert cane sugar), but corn syrup is the only one you'll find in your supermarket. Honey, agave nectar, and molasses are also easy-to-find invert sugars, but their strong flavors limit their flexibility. * You can see a whole table of the relative sweetness of different sugars here. Karo corn syrup doesn't list its exact chemical composition, but we conducted some tests to pinpoint its sweetness. If you want to try this at home, mix 10 grams of sugar into 50 grams of water. Then mix 30 grams of corn syrup into 30 grams of water and taste them blind. The syrups won't taste exactly the same, but they'll be similarly sweet. On Twitter, Catherine Oddenino shared some independent lab results suggesting that Karo is a 47% dextrose equivalent syrup, which puts it right on target for a 33% relative sweetness to sugar with our own taste test. To see how corn syrup affected a sorbet's texture, I made four batches of lemon sorbet. One was my standard recipe, made with all corn syrup, which I like for its balance of sweet and tart flavors as well as its lush, ice cream-like texture. I also made three other sorbets, equal in volume and sweetness, with different amounts of sugar: one that derived two thirds of its sweetness from corn syrup and one third from sugar, one that had only one third of its sweetness from corn syrup and two thirds from sugar, and a third made with plain sugar, which had only one third of the total sugar of my corn syrup base. The Serious Eats team tasted all four blind and shared their comments. Even a little corn syrup greatly improves the sorbet's texture. The all-sugar sorbet is clumpy and icy. The results were clear: even a small amount of corn syrup drastically improved a sorbet's texture. While the sugar-based sorbets won out on flavor, their texture suffered. The all-sugar sorbet sucked eggs: dry, icy, clumpy, impossible to scoop. A small amount of corn syrup drastically improved the sorbet's texture, and greater amounts improved it slightly more. How much corn syrup to add is a question of personal taste. I like the super-dense, super-smooth, ice cream-like texture of my all corn syrup sorbet, though it takes a good 12 hours in the freezer to harden and it melts quickly. Others preferred the mostly corn syrup version, which wasn't quite as smooth, but still smooth. There's no right or wrong answer here, except to dismiss corn syrup out of hand. The Cons of Using Corn SyrupTasting in action. It's a tough life for a Serious Eater. Ice cream is a balancing act, and each ingredient has its cost. Corn syrup is a great texture enhancer, but it's not without its flaws. To wit: Table sugar tastes better. Karo corn syrup doesn't taste bad, but it has a slight metallic flavor compared to cleaner-tasting table sugar. Our taste test bore this difference out, and while I think a small difference in flavor is worth the immense gains in texture, a discerning palate can spot the difference side by side. If you can find them, invert sugars like glucose (which also comes powdered) and Trimoline (inverted cane sugar syrup) taste better, though both are sweeter than corn syrup. It can dilute flavors. Since corn syrup is a liquid, it adds volume to a sorbet while diluting its flavor. With strong citrus sorbets like lemon and orange, this isn't a problem since you're diluting the juice with water anyway, and some of that water can be substituted out for the water in corn syrup. But in my root beer sherbet for example, it's important to use a boldly flavored root beer so its flavor stands up to the blandness of the corn syrup. The more subtle your sorbet's flavor is, the higher a ratio of sugar to corn syrup you might want to use, as that'll dilute your other ingredients less. Not all sorbets need corn syrup. Thick ones like strawberry, cherry, or peach, for instance, are viscous enough that table sugar works just fine. (My general rule is that if you can make jam out of the fruit, it doesn't need corn syrup to improve its texture.) Trust Your Own Taste, Not a LabelWhen it comes to dessert, ice cream is forgiving stuff. It's easy to modify to your tastes, and if you don't like the end result, you can always melt it down, add some ingredients, and churn it again. I'm not saying you have to use a pint of corn syrup to get good sorbet. But it's an ingredient worth exploring for its versatility and handy chemical properties. Just remember that there's more than one kind of sugar out there, and you don't reach next-level ice cream Jedi status until you've tried them all. About the author: Ice cream padawan Max Falkowitz is the editor of Serious Eats: New York. You can follow him on Twitter at @maxfalkowitz. Get the Recipe!    |
| How to Make Gloriously Fatty Pork Roll Rachel Sandwiches Posted: 19 Jul 2013 09:18 AM PDT [Photographs: J. Kenji Lopez-Alt] Sometimes this whole writing thing ends up backing me into a culinary corner that only determination, innovation, and a bit of extra mayonnaise can get me out of. Case in point: I once wrote about how I'm a fan of Taylor Ham, A.K.A. Pork Roll, a large, semi-emulsified, ultra-salty pork-based luncheon meat that's been produced in New Jersey since at least 1906. I've always said that Pork Roll is Spam for folks who don't want to admit that they like Spam, and it still seems an apt description. So when Max and Jamie came across some at J. Seabra's supermarket on a recent road trip to Newark, they decided to bring me back a few dozen slices. And what ended up becoming close fridge-mates with this pork roll languishing on the bottom shelf? As luck would have it, it was a gallon of leftover cole slaw from my recent Food Lab testing. And when life gives me pork roll and cole slaw, I make sandwiches. Pork Roll Rachels, to be specific. I only recently found out that Rachels are not very well known in the sandwich-eating world. Even Serious Eats Overlord Ed had not heard of them before I cooked up a batch last week. Though their origin is a matter of debate, their assembly is not. They're the sister sandwich to the Reuben, made by replacing the corned beef with pastrami and the sauerkraut with cole slaw. The melted Swiss cheese and Thousand Island dressing and the buttery toasted rye bread remain the same. Pork roll is a pretty natural substitute for pastrami. It's salty, it's tender, it's heavily spiced, and nicely fatty. There's only one real trick to cooking it, and you've probably gathered it from the photos already: cut a slit into it. This technique, known as the "pac-man cut" or the "fire badge" ensures that the slices lay flat while you fry them. Nobody likes cupped pork roll.* *this is a sentence I would never have imagined writing. From there on out, the construction is exactly like making a Rachel sandwich: top some rye bread with sliced Swiss cheese, then pile on cole slaw. Any creamy claw will do, but to toot my own horn, my recipe is my favorite. Pile on the fried pork roll, slather it with a bit of Thousand Island dressing (because nothing goes with mayo like more mayo), another pile of cole slaw, more cheese, and the top slice of bread. If you've done it right, your sandwich should look bigger than you can manage. This is ok. You will manage it. This management process starts by compressing it gently under your hands. You may see some juices squeeze out or perhaps a stream of mayo will leak onto the cutting board. Do not panic. Instead, gently lift the sandwiches with a spatula and slide them into a skillet coated with melted butter (or even better, a sandwich press). The key to good melts is a low, even heat. I cook my sandwiches over medium low so that they take a good ten minutes start to finish. During cooking, I'll occasionally swirl them around to compensate for hot spots and to get a more even color, pressing them with a spatula so they stay nicely compressed. Remember those juices that were leaking out earlier? they may well leak out again, in which case you can swirl the sandwiches around and sop them right back up into the bread. What emerges from that skillet should be so sloppy that one gives up all hopes of eating it with any shred of dignity. Again, do not panic. You will not be judged by anyone who matters. Just grab your napkins and go to town. About the author: J. Kenji Lopez-Alt is the Chief Creative Officer of Serious Eats where he likes to explore the science of home cooking in his weekly column The Food Lab. You can follow him at @thefoodlab on Twitter, or at The Food Lab on Facebook. Get the Recipe!    |
| Open Thread: How Do You Beat the Heat in Chicago? Posted: 19 Jul 2013 08:59 AM PDT [Photographs: Lindsey Becker] I don't need to remind you of how hot it is out there, since all you have to do is walk outside and 30 seconds later sweat will start pouring off your forehead. While I've done a pretty remarkable job of hiding in my apartment with the A/C on full blast, pesky duties like shopping for food and walking the dog have forced me to face the weather head on. More than any other time, I've needed dishes to help me cool down. Ice cream is the obvious choice, but there are loads of options. You should probably start with our staff picks for the best ice cream in the city. Looking for something a little more unusual? Check out 7 Non-Traditional Soft-Serve Desserts in Chicago. Like to cool down while also getting tipsy? 5 Boozy Frozen Treats We Love in Chicago is for you. Lastly, though I put together the post after the Blackhawks won the Stanley Cup, these 6 icy treats are probably needed now more than ever. Of course, some people prefer to take a different route eat spicy food on a hot day. If that's the case, take a look at Spicy Dishes We Love in Chicago. But what about you? What's your favorite way to beat the heat in Chicago?    |
| A Sandwich a Day: Italian Sub at Brad's Cafe Posted: 19 Jul 2013 07:52 AM PDT In this great city of ours, one could eat a different sandwich every day of the year—so that's what we'll do. Here's A Sandwich a Day, our daily look at sandwiches around New York. Got a sandwich we should check out? Let us know. —The Mgmt. [Photograph: Andrea Kang] If you're looking for a classic example of the Italian sub at a few bucks cheaper than most sandwich shops, you'll find it at Brad's, a small spot inside Columbia University's campus serving up cheap grub for students. There's nothing fancy here, just a simple hero that tastes like a homemade version of Subway, only with fresher meats and bread that, if not stellar, lack's Subway's processed funky aroma. It comes with a similar price tag to Subway as well, clocking in at $6. The sandwich comes hot, not cold, to the benefit of that bread but the detriment of the shredded lettuce; eat this before the lettuce wilts. You can add potato chips at no cost, which lend a satisfying, salty crunch, though the Lay's chips soften quickly. They bolster a sandwich that won't rock your world but will satisfy you for the price. About the author: Andrea Kang is a rising senior magazine journalism student at Northwestern University. She is the editor in chief of Spoon Magazine, Northwestern's campus food publication, and loves to blog about her food adventures at The Sunny-Side Up Kitchen.    |
| We Eat Everything at the Ramadan Buffet at Olive Tree in Anaheim Posted: 19 Jul 2013 09:24 AM PDT  VIEW SLIDESHOW: We Eat Everything at the Ramadan Buffet at Olive Tree in Anaheim Ramadan Buffet at Olive Tree [Photographs: Joy Hui Lin] More OC EatsBest Bites at the Orange County Fair Great OC Tacos at Soho Taco A Sandwich a Day: Chicken Rotisserie Bánh Mì in Anaheim When I heard about the Ramadan Buffet at Olive Tree in Anaheim's Little Arabia, I knew I'd found the right place to partake in this rich culinary tradition. Owned by Palestinian native Abu Ahmad, the restaurant is known for serving regional specialties from Jordan, Palestine, Syria, and Egypt. The menu often features celebratory dishes traditionally made for weddings or homecomings, found here as daily specials or included on a rotating basis as part of Ramadan buffet for the break-fast meal called iftar. For observant Muslims the world over, Ramadan is a period of both contemplation and community. And what better way to celebrate community than by breaking your fast together? While iftar was once a small family affair with a handful of dishes, it's evolved over time into a feast characterized by generosity and hospitality. For the entire month of Ramadan, Olive Tree's all-you-can-eat buffet provides over 20 appetizers and mains, with drinks and dessert. The iftar menu changes daily, and almost every night is sold out, so reservations are necessary (though more challenging than snagging a seat is figuring out how to leave the buffet without bursting). Even before the sun sets, the line to the buffet buzzes with hungry fasters. Traditional observers break fast first with a plump date and water. At Olive Tree, servers pass plates of dates down the line. I joined the line with a friend as the sun set over Anaheim to begin our feast. We didn't have enough dedication to fast in the true tradition of Ramadan, but we did try to save our stomachs for the epic dinner. The warm summer night ended with singing, relaxing, impromptu drumming, and drum-tight bellies. Olive Tree's Ramadan buffet ($22) runs through August 9th and begins after sunset (around 8pm, but the line starts at 7:30pm). The mains change daily. Click here to view all the dishes in the slideshow, or check out the best of the Ramadan buffet below. Tasty Middle-Eastern Staples
Must-Eats
If Your Plate Has Space
Less Than ImpressedOlive Tree512 S Brookhurst St., Ste 3 Anaheim, CA 92806 (map) 714-535-2878 [Reservations for iftar are required]; websiteBut wait, there's more! Follow Serious Eats on Facebook, Twitter and Pintrest! About the author: Joy Hui Lin is an international food and screenwriter based in Los Angeles.    |
| How To Make The Modernist Cuisine Cheeseburger, Fries, and Shake Posted: 19 Jul 2013 08:54 AM PDT  VIEW SLIDESHOW: How To Make The Modernist Cuisine Cheeseburger, Fries, and Shake [Photographs: J. Kenji Lopez-Alt] A couple years ago, I was lucky enough to be invited to the very first public dinner held at The Cooking Lab, the test kitchen/laboratory where the recipes and techniques for Modernist Cuisine, the official heaviest-cookbook-ever-written were all tested and developed. It was a stunner of a meal, 30 courses long, with textures, flavors, and techniques that boggled the mind in their creativity and focus. Since then, the team has released a second volume—Modernist Cuisine At Home, which while not as ground-breaking, was a fine follow-up to their epic first album. They'll be coming out with a third book all about the photographic techniques developed for the books later this year. Their second book, though still intimidating in stature and layout, was aimed at the ambitious home-cook audience, and tackled recipes like basic sandwiches, fried chicken, and the like. I revisited the Cooking Lab on a recent trip out to Seattle and got a quick step-by-step walkthrough of their patty melt, cavitated french fries, and liquid nitrogen banana shake recipes. The processes are interesting, to say the least. The burger is easily the most complex I've ever seen, even more time consuming to make than the Heston Blumenthal recipe I tackled a few years ago. The process involves grinding meat into vertically aligned strands, shaping those strands into a log before slicing out patties (the goal being to increase tenderness in the direction in which you bite), followed by cooking the patties sous-vide. The burgers are then frozen briefly in liquid nitrogen (to keep them from overcooking during their subsequent browning phase), before being dunked into hot oil for a moment to create a browned crust. The intended goal is a patty that is both tender and lean (they use a very lean blend of meat), with a medium rare core that extends all the way to the edges, and a crust that is brown but doesn't penetrate more than the very outer layers. The whole thing gets topped with a slice of constructed melting cheese made by emulsifying a flavorful Alpine-style cheese with sodium citrate to give it the melting qualities of an American cheese slice. It's served with a spread flavored with capers and shallots on griddled slices of white bread. The burger succeeds at its stated goals for the most part—the patty was indeed lean and medium rare with a thin, thin crust. The cheese could have melted better and was slightly grainy, but the flavor was there. As a sandwich, it was great. As a burger, it misses the mark slightly—I longed for a more substantial, more deeply flavored crust than what you can get at deep-frying temperatures, and the meat itself was crying out for more fat. It's a burger—it should be dripping, not dainty! Just give it another name, and I'll take two, please. Check out the step-by-step slideshow here! » Similarly, the french fries are an excellent, interesting, and tasty dish. As with the burger, they don't really evoke actual french fries, but they taste good, and that's what matters right? The fries undergo a similarly lengthy cooking process, starting with a stay in a sous-vide cooker in a brine made with salt and baking soda. Though I was told by a cook that the baking soda is meant to act as an abrasive, this didn't particularly make sense to me, as it dissolves in water rather than staying particulate. Rather, I believe the actual purpose is to raise the pH of the water, encouraging the breakdown of pectin, which is important to the next step: cavitation. The par-cooked potatoes are dropped into an ultrasonic water bath—the kind used to clean jewelry or lab equipment—which causes their outer surfaces to form micro-faults. It essentially roughs them up a bit to increase their surface area, which in turn leads to more crunch. From there, the fries are cooked in the traditional manner—once in oil at a relatively low temperature, followed by a quick dip into hotter oil to crisp them. They take on a lacy, almost tempura-like appearance, though there is no batter or coating whatsoever. They come served with a cup of bone marrow mousse—very similar to an airy mayonnaise. The fries are very crunchy, if slightly greasy, and have a creamy, soft interior. The shake was both delicious and evocative of the dish its based on. You take a sip of it and there's no doubt that what you're drinking is a milkshake, albeit one flavored with rotovap-reduced bourbon, clarified banana juice, and goat's milk. The liquid-nitrogen freezing process is showy and not strictly necessary (you could just chill and blend the base like normal shake), but it's fun and gets the job done in record time. Check out the step-by-step slideshow here! » About the author: J. Kenji Lopez-Alt is the Chief Creative Officer of Serious Eats where he likes to explore the science of home cooking in his weekly column The Food Lab. You can follow him at @thefoodlab on Twitter, or at The Food Lab on Facebook.    |
| Sugar Rush: Custard Filled Long Johns at Holtman's Donuts, Cincinnati Posted: 18 Jul 2013 10:52 AM PDT [Photographs: Jacqueline Raposo] There's a bit of anxiety that comes with biting into a custard-filled doughnut. It often explodes in a mess of filling that drips on your chin and fingers and, taste-wise, too-much filling and too-much sugar can pound the palate, leaving you with a dissatisfied "meh". Such is not the case at Holtman's Donuts outside of Cincinnati in Loveland, Ohio. Opened in 1950 by Charles Holtman, they had 13 stores in their heyday, but rising sugar prices and the decline in the doughnut's trendability brought them down to only their Loveland and Williamsburg locations. Now Charles' daughter Toni and her husband Chuck run the shop along with their son Danny, and they've held tight to what is classic while moving forward when something fun calls to them like, say, their "doughsant" version of a cronut. What they nail, though, are the classics. The key to their Custard Filled Long John ($1) is balance. Their doughnut dough is stellar; a spot-on amount of sweet with a texture that is soft throughout but doesn't collapse with a bite or the slice of a knife. They pipe in a house-made custard that isn't too sweet. While on first glance it looks sub-par in quantity, it's actually just the right amount for every bite. On top of that, the icing actually tastes like chocolate, rather than just a smear of confectioners sugar, so the combination of vanilla custard and chocolate icing both get their place with a chew. Altogether, you get a perfect balance of everything—doughnut, custard and icing—so that you can taste and enjoy each. Oh, and in case you didn't quite catch that above, they're a dollar. A dollar! Which is why it's no surprise that these have been a constant classic for Holtman's and sell out particularly quickly. If you live in Cincinnati proper and aren't drooling quite enough to make it to Loveland or Williamsburg, fear not; they're opening a new Over the Rhine location (hopefully) by the end of August. Holtman's Donut Shop1399 Ohio 28, Loveland, OH 45140 (map)(513) 575-1077 holtmansdonutshop.com About the author: Jacqueline Raposo writes about people who make food and cooks lots of things. Read more at www.WordsFoodArt.com or tweet her out at @WordsFoodArt.    |
| Ask a Cicerone: What's Your Least Favorite Style of Beer? Posted: 17 Jul 2013 11:55 AM PDT  VIEW SLIDESHOW: Ask a Cicerone: What's Your Least Favorite Style of Beer? Editor's Note: Ask a what? A Certified Cicerone® is a beer expert who has passed a particular certification exam administered by the Craft Beer Institute. You can think of them as beer sommeliers: these folks have demonstrated significant beer knowledge and tasting skill, plus professional skills in beer sales and service. Beer professionals are quick to tell you what brews they're excited about, whether it's a wild-fermented sour or a great local saison. But what about the beers that don't float their boats? Are there styles that just don't appeal? We asked 9 cicerones to tell us about their least-favorite beer style and the stylistic trends they wish would go away. Here's what they had to say. What about you? What beer style just isn't your thing? Tell us what it is and why in the comments below.    |
| Amazing Seafood at Newark Neighborhood Joint Seabra's Marisqueira Posted: 19 Jul 2013 06:57 AM PDT
[Photographs: Max Falkowitz] Editor's note: For the next few weeks, we'll be chiming in with snapshots of our recent road trip to the Portuguese and Brazilian Ironbound neighborhood of Newark, New Jersey, thanks to a loaner ride in a Buick Verano. Our destinations, and these articles, come purely from Serious Eats editorial. More NewarkHanging Gardens of Ham, Mountain of Salt Cod at A. J. Seabra's Portuguese Supermarket » Can't-Miss Egg Custard Tarts at Teixeiras Bakery » A Sandwich a Day: A Happy 'Banana Burger' Misdirect at Altas Horas » I've been wanting to field trip to Newark's Ironbound area to explore the city's Portuguese eats for years, but despite my willingness to cross state lines for food (hello, Mitsuwa!), Newark trips always ended up on the backburner. So when we got a loaner car last month, I knew I had no public transportation-related excuse to fall back on.* The time for Newark, I announced to Max and Niki, is now. *Note that a car is absolutely not necessary to visit Newark, though it will make dragging your Seabra's Supermakret spoils home much easier. Seabra's Marisqueira is something of an Ironbound institution: famed for its seafood, the restaurant has been open since 1989, though it's cheerfully timeless, like a Vegas casino with all the clocks removed. The restaurant is a perennial Chowhound favorite and sets a proper tone for first-time Newark visitors: surly service, day drinkers parked at the horseshoe bar, and a marine laboratory-sized array of fresh seafood splayed out on ice in the center. A bowl of crusty bread was placed unceremoniously before us, and the day drinkers eyed us suspiciously as we filed around the bar and started paging through the Bible-sized menu. Things were off to a good start.
Puplo. They got better with the arrival of the chilled Octopus Salad ($8.50), which featured some of the meatier tentacles I've tried in recent memory. The barman told me the octopus is flown in from Portugal, cleaned, and then poached in red wine flavored with onions for half an hour. The pink-tinged meat is tender and firm, with none of unfortunate rubbery effect that characterizes overcooked octopus. It's tossed in a light vinegar and oil dressing laced with minced onions and garlic, which it is very much worth saving the heels of your bread to sop up.
Proof that "dry soup" isn't an oxymoron. Next was the Açorda de Marisco ($16.95), a traditional "dry soup" with a mix of shrimp, clams, mussels, scallops, and cubed Portuguese bread (hence the "dry" in the name—the bread soaks up all of the liquid), flavored with olive oil, garlic, and fresh coriander. The crowning touch is a raw egg, which the bartender quickly folded in before serving us straight out of the iron skillet. The rustic stew may not have won any beauty pageants, but it was a rich, comforting dish that I imagine craving when temperatures start dropping.
Free clams! The arrival of our açorda de marisco had aroused the curiosity of our day-drinking neighbors, who seemed impressed with our order and slid a small plate of buttery, garlicky clams across the bar for us to try. We asked what the clear liquid they were spooning into espresso mugs was, turns out it was aguardente, literally "firewater," a burning Portuguese liquor not unlike ouzo. Belly laughs rose all around while the ringleader recounted a story of his hapless American cousin trying to do shots of the stuff.
Not to be confused with sable. "Portuguese people eat with their eyes, not their stomach," said one of the men, nodding with approval as our boat-sized plate of Grilled Bacalhau ($18.95) arrived, covered with green peppers and onions. I'd only ever had bacalhau (salt cod) in its dried, flat form, but this version had been rehydrated for three days and then char-grilled. The hulking filet was several inches tall, with exceptionally juicy petals of briny white fish slick with garlic oil (in fact, even in its rehydrated form, the meat was almost too salty to eat plain, which is where bites of the peppers came in handy). Its silky texture reminded me of the smoked sable fish I grew up loving in appetizing shops. We nicknamed this guy "Tex." After the heap of octopus and heavy açorda de marisco, we barely made a dent in the bacalhau (plus, we had three more food stops to make that day). As we wrapped up the fish and bread for the road, we bought our new neighbor friends another round of firewater and thanked them for their company. Suddenly, Seabra's Marisqueira didn't seem so foreign after all. About the author: Jamie Feldmar is a noodle aficionado, barbecue lover, and the managing editor of Serious Eats. You can follow her on Twitter at @jfeldmar.    |
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