I've never professed to be any sort of great critic. That definition would be highly subjective anyway. But I know there is such thing as a great critic. Perhaps first and foremost among critics, and especially here in Chicago, there stood only one, the legendary Roger Ebert.
Simply by virtue of my age, I am admittedly no great expert on Ebert and his work. Through the magic of social networking, though, I've come to appreciate his wit through both Tweets and blog posts. He was certainly one of a kind.
And it was not until today that I understood just how much I am really going to miss reading his writing. A screenwriting student in one of my classes very nearly broke down in tears upon hearing of Ebert's passing. The effect for me was far less immediate, but after reading a slew of touching memorial tweets by his friends, fellow journalists, and moviegoers alike, I find myself a bit choked up at the thought of his Twitter feed and his blog going silent.
He was unabashedly steadfast in his own opinions, something I feel many of us writers (both amateur and professional) find difficult to do in a world that can be so harshly critical. If he didn't like a movie but you did, you could extol its virtues six ways to Sunday and you still wouldn't be able to budge him from his stance. He came off as curmudgeonly and frank. Although at first glance it seemed a bit brusque and difficult to adjust to, his manner is one I hope to emulate (though certainly not replicate, for that would be impossible).
As a person and a personality, he was not conventional by any means. On the anniversary of Gene Siskel's death, he posted a link on Twitter to an interview he did with Siskel on Howard Stern's show. During the interview, he was gruff at times, humorous at others. It was conducted during the nascent stages of his relationship with the woman he would later marry, and when Stern inquired about Ebert's relationship with someone of a different race, Ebert basically said 'So what?' (In my humble opinion, there was also a bit of a 'Screw you' implied, and if there was, I don't blame him. Because what does it really matter anyway?). That is the one part of the interview that truly stuck with me. It wasn't necessarily shocking; I found it respectable because of his refusal to censor himself or hide his own feelings.
That was the way Ebert conducted himself, and that was the way he wrote. His actions were unapologetic, his opinions required no further explanation, and even though he seemed irascible at times, people still respected him. I would imagine he loved blogging; no 'bleep' to hold him back, no one to tell him what topics were off limits...
Ebert even wrote about his own death. An excerpt from his book, posted online after he passed and tweeted out shortly thereafter by British actor Stephen Fry, demonstrates that he approached the end with the same tenacity he exhibited in everything. He was not afraid of it. I'll post the link here if you'd care to peruse it.
This weekend I plan to visit his blog and truly read it, perhaps even start to finish. I want to remember him by his writing, in all of its feisty frankness.
I'm sorry to have only realized my desire to read his writings at the moment of his death. But someone wrote about that once, didn't they? Ah, The Band Perry... "funny when you're dead how people start listening..."
I heard bits and pieces before, but I'm listening now. Rest in peace, Roger. As many have already tweeted today, The Balcony Is Closed.
Sincerely and Respectfully, A Fellow Writer:
~AF
Thursday, April 4, 2013
Saturday, March 30, 2013
Easter Egg Strata! (And Other Spring Culinary Escapades)
The brunch is tomorrow morning! All my ingredients are prepped, and I'm just waiting to make the custard and throw everything together. Here's how it goes:
Egg Strata
2 c chopped bell peppers
1 medium onion, diced
1 dozen eggs
12 oz sausage (your favorite)
1/4 tsp. thyme
1/4 tsp. dry mustard
1.5 c milk
1.5 c half and half
8 cups cubed bread
2 c. sharp cheddar cheese, shredded
Butter
Extra virgin olive oil
Salt and pepper to taste
1. Sauté the veggies! I recommend slow-cooking the onions first so they get nicely caramelized. I add about a tablespoon of olive oil to a frying pan and cook them over low heat. Once they become translucent, I add a pat of butter and the thyme and stir the onions, allowing them to continue cooking until they take on a slightly golden tinge. This ensures their sweetness. Remove from the pan and set aside. Then cook the bell peppers in a tablespoon of olive oil over medium heat, lightly salted, until they are softened and slightly golden around the edges.
2. Break the sausage into small chunks, and brown it in batches over medium heat. I like to make sure that the sausage is entirely cooked; it will warm in the casserole, but if there's any residual rawness, it'll still be there even after you bake!
3. Refrigerate the veggies and sausage to cool them down before adding them to the eggs!
4. The custard for the dish is comprised of the eggs, milk, half and half, dry mustard, and 1.5 cups of cheese. The remainder will be sprinkled over the top of the casserole. Whisk together the eggs and liquid first, then fold in the cheese.
5. Add the bread to the custard, gently tossing to combine. Add in your accoutrements (peppers, sausage, onions) and toss to combine.
6. Pour everything into a greased 9x13" baking dish, pressing down slightly. Make sure most of the extra custard goes into the pan.
7. Refrigerate overnight, if desired (you can also let it sit for an hour or so to let the custard absorb). When you're ready to cook, top the casserole with 1/2 c reserved cheddar and bake at 375F for 45 minutes until the top is golden.
In other news, I can't wait for farmers' markets, loves. I just want spring veggies. I'll let you know how the strata goes over at Easter brunch. Happy Easter if you celebrate it, Happy Spring if not!
~AF
Egg Strata
2 c chopped bell peppers
1 medium onion, diced
1 dozen eggs
12 oz sausage (your favorite)
1/4 tsp. thyme
1/4 tsp. dry mustard
1.5 c milk
1.5 c half and half
8 cups cubed bread
2 c. sharp cheddar cheese, shredded
Butter
Extra virgin olive oil
Salt and pepper to taste
1. Sauté the veggies! I recommend slow-cooking the onions first so they get nicely caramelized. I add about a tablespoon of olive oil to a frying pan and cook them over low heat. Once they become translucent, I add a pat of butter and the thyme and stir the onions, allowing them to continue cooking until they take on a slightly golden tinge. This ensures their sweetness. Remove from the pan and set aside. Then cook the bell peppers in a tablespoon of olive oil over medium heat, lightly salted, until they are softened and slightly golden around the edges.
2. Break the sausage into small chunks, and brown it in batches over medium heat. I like to make sure that the sausage is entirely cooked; it will warm in the casserole, but if there's any residual rawness, it'll still be there even after you bake!
3. Refrigerate the veggies and sausage to cool them down before adding them to the eggs!
4. The custard for the dish is comprised of the eggs, milk, half and half, dry mustard, and 1.5 cups of cheese. The remainder will be sprinkled over the top of the casserole. Whisk together the eggs and liquid first, then fold in the cheese.
5. Add the bread to the custard, gently tossing to combine. Add in your accoutrements (peppers, sausage, onions) and toss to combine.
6. Pour everything into a greased 9x13" baking dish, pressing down slightly. Make sure most of the extra custard goes into the pan.
7. Refrigerate overnight, if desired (you can also let it sit for an hour or so to let the custard absorb). When you're ready to cook, top the casserole with 1/2 c reserved cheddar and bake at 375F for 45 minutes until the top is golden.
In other news, I can't wait for farmers' markets, loves. I just want spring veggies. I'll let you know how the strata goes over at Easter brunch. Happy Easter if you celebrate it, Happy Spring if not!
~AF
Wednesday, March 27, 2013
Your Morning Yolk's New Best Friend
Maybe this isn't anything revolutionary. But it sure is tasty...
You know when you get a jar of pasta sauce (good pasta sauce, something authentic and rustic) and you're left with too much sauce to toss and too little to use on another batch of linguine?
I have the solution, lovies. My sauce of choice today? A zingy, tangy arrabiata sauce, left over from last night's cincue colori conchiglie alla arrabiata (phew, that's a mouthful...a tasty, tasty mouthful). My recipe? A fried egg and focaccia sandwich with a shmear of the tomatoey stuff.
Here's how it goes.
Egg Sandwich Italiana
1 large egg
Sandwich-sized piece of focaccia (any kind you like)
1 tsp arrabiata sauce
Salt and pepper
Olive oil
1. Split focaccia, drizzle with olive oil and sprinkle lightly with salt. Toast in toaster oven until golden brown.
2. Heat olive oil in a frying pan or skillet until it glistens. Fry egg on one side, then add about a quarter cup of water to the pan and cover. The egg should steam for about two minutes, sealing in the yolk under a thin layer of egg white and leaving it runny. Top the egg with a bit of salt and a touch of cracked black pepper.
3. Smear the arrabiata on one half of the focaccia. Place the egg on the bread and enjoy.
The sammy's messy, but it's delicious. The fatty, savory yolk complements the acidic and spicy tomato sauce. It works the same way as the hot sauce I liberally apply to my bell pepper and egg sandwiches. And the focaccia? Well, that just serves as a tasty, crusty bread that holds up to the cascade of runny yolk and reinforces the Italian-ness of the dish.
Molto buono. Molto, molto buono.
Buon appetito!
~AF
You know when you get a jar of pasta sauce (good pasta sauce, something authentic and rustic) and you're left with too much sauce to toss and too little to use on another batch of linguine?
I have the solution, lovies. My sauce of choice today? A zingy, tangy arrabiata sauce, left over from last night's cincue colori conchiglie alla arrabiata (phew, that's a mouthful...a tasty, tasty mouthful). My recipe? A fried egg and focaccia sandwich with a shmear of the tomatoey stuff.
Here's how it goes.
Egg Sandwich Italiana
1 large egg
Sandwich-sized piece of focaccia (any kind you like)
1 tsp arrabiata sauce
Salt and pepper
Olive oil
1. Split focaccia, drizzle with olive oil and sprinkle lightly with salt. Toast in toaster oven until golden brown.
2. Heat olive oil in a frying pan or skillet until it glistens. Fry egg on one side, then add about a quarter cup of water to the pan and cover. The egg should steam for about two minutes, sealing in the yolk under a thin layer of egg white and leaving it runny. Top the egg with a bit of salt and a touch of cracked black pepper.
3. Smear the arrabiata on one half of the focaccia. Place the egg on the bread and enjoy.
The sammy's messy, but it's delicious. The fatty, savory yolk complements the acidic and spicy tomato sauce. It works the same way as the hot sauce I liberally apply to my bell pepper and egg sandwiches. And the focaccia? Well, that just serves as a tasty, crusty bread that holds up to the cascade of runny yolk and reinforces the Italian-ness of the dish.
Molto buono. Molto, molto buono.
Buon appetito!
~AF
Monday, March 4, 2013
A Bad Case of the Mondays
We've all had those days. For some, it's sleeping through an alarm. For others, it's getting a parking ticket the minute the meter ticks down to zero. For me, it's getting locked out of my room.
Yep. My lock stopped working. My phone was in my room. My phone, guys. That's a big deal. But not to worry, maintenance fixed it.
And this was after an awesome weekend too.
Every time I go home for the weekend, I feel like I gain the "Freshman 15." I don't pig out at school. Honest. But when I go home...
No more than twenty minutes after walking in the door, my pizza rolls were in the microwave waiting to be eaten. I enjoyed barbecue, Mexican food...
While I was eating my leftover chimichanga for lunch in my dorm room today, I came to the realization that I can actually eat well at school. Case in point: the vegetable crudités I purchased in the cafeteria to eat alongside the aforementioned chimichanga. It felt like a veggie cleanse after all the delicious junk I ate over the weekend.
I love being at home, but there's not a buffet-like plethora of über-healthy options to pick from. I wish there were, but it just isn't realistic to have edamame and bell peppers and carrots and celery and pineapple and spring mix lettuce and vegan beans and rice and veggie patties. Not everyone in our house eats like that. Plus, it's the beginning of March, for crying out loud.
Where are the farmer's markets?!?
I can't wait for warm weather just because of those farmer's markets. I have good intentions to binge on vegetation as soon as good produce becomes available. But until then, I'm stuck eating from the cafeteria. Which, as I'm finding out, isn't necessarily so bad.
~AF
Yep. My lock stopped working. My phone was in my room. My phone, guys. That's a big deal. But not to worry, maintenance fixed it.
And this was after an awesome weekend too.
Every time I go home for the weekend, I feel like I gain the "Freshman 15." I don't pig out at school. Honest. But when I go home...
No more than twenty minutes after walking in the door, my pizza rolls were in the microwave waiting to be eaten. I enjoyed barbecue, Mexican food...
While I was eating my leftover chimichanga for lunch in my dorm room today, I came to the realization that I can actually eat well at school. Case in point: the vegetable crudités I purchased in the cafeteria to eat alongside the aforementioned chimichanga. It felt like a veggie cleanse after all the delicious junk I ate over the weekend.
I love being at home, but there's not a buffet-like plethora of über-healthy options to pick from. I wish there were, but it just isn't realistic to have edamame and bell peppers and carrots and celery and pineapple and spring mix lettuce and vegan beans and rice and veggie patties. Not everyone in our house eats like that. Plus, it's the beginning of March, for crying out loud.
Where are the farmer's markets?!?
I can't wait for warm weather just because of those farmer's markets. I have good intentions to binge on vegetation as soon as good produce becomes available. But until then, I'm stuck eating from the cafeteria. Which, as I'm finding out, isn't necessarily so bad.
~AF
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
For the Tea Drinker
I love tea. Well, not all tea. I love iced tea, I hate green tea, I love British blend tea, and I despise lukewarm tea of any sort. My absolute favorite is the iced tea my grandma makes, even though she adds sweetener to it. It's the tea I grew up on.
I used to be a full-packet-of-sweetener kind of gal. Any time I ordered iced tea from a restaurant, I'd empty the packet into my cup and add even more when the server topped it off. We never call the sweeteners by their brands; only by the color of the packets. I switched to yellow when it came about, but because of my grandma, I started off partial to blue. Then eventually I discovered raw sugar and went with that for a while. But my juvenile taste buds matured about five years ago and I haven't voluntarily sweetened my tea since.
My aunt makes great tea. It's strong. Like, put-some-hair-on-your-chest strong. Two packets of black tea and one of green, then steep in hot water until it's the color of coffee; cool to room temp on the counter and serve over ice. If you're bold enough to drink this tea at all then there's no reason to sweeten it. It's grown-up tea (and not the kind with rum and triple sec and all manner of other craziness) (in case you're wondering, yes I did need to Google 'Long Island Iced Tea' to figure out what's in it...I don't dabble with that stuff).
My favorite hot tea du jour is currently Suzette's Jasmine Orangerie. It's loose-leaf tea that comes in a tres chic little red bag. The flavor is light and floral with notes of orange. Follow the directions on the bag to the letter; brew it any longer than two minutes and it starts to taste a little mucky. I'll let you know if I find anything I like better, but I still have about a dozen teacups' worth of Orangerie left in the bag. Talk to me in a couple weeks.
And now I think I'll brew another cup before the Blackhawks game starts. It's part of my tradition.
~AF
I used to be a full-packet-of-sweetener kind of gal. Any time I ordered iced tea from a restaurant, I'd empty the packet into my cup and add even more when the server topped it off. We never call the sweeteners by their brands; only by the color of the packets. I switched to yellow when it came about, but because of my grandma, I started off partial to blue. Then eventually I discovered raw sugar and went with that for a while. But my juvenile taste buds matured about five years ago and I haven't voluntarily sweetened my tea since.
My aunt makes great tea. It's strong. Like, put-some-hair-on-your-chest strong. Two packets of black tea and one of green, then steep in hot water until it's the color of coffee; cool to room temp on the counter and serve over ice. If you're bold enough to drink this tea at all then there's no reason to sweeten it. It's grown-up tea (and not the kind with rum and triple sec and all manner of other craziness) (in case you're wondering, yes I did need to Google 'Long Island Iced Tea' to figure out what's in it...I don't dabble with that stuff).
My favorite hot tea du jour is currently Suzette's Jasmine Orangerie. It's loose-leaf tea that comes in a tres chic little red bag. The flavor is light and floral with notes of orange. Follow the directions on the bag to the letter; brew it any longer than two minutes and it starts to taste a little mucky. I'll let you know if I find anything I like better, but I still have about a dozen teacups' worth of Orangerie left in the bag. Talk to me in a couple weeks.
And now I think I'll brew another cup before the Blackhawks game starts. It's part of my tradition.
~AF
Sunday, February 3, 2013
Chicago Restaurant Week: Just the Right Time to Visit Frontera...Again.
I'm back, Frontera! ¡A comer!
I ate at Frontera on Friday, the first day of Chicago Restaurant Week. And I got the Restaurant Week menu. Three courses, twenty-two dollars. You read that right, twenty-two dollars. That's about how much you'd pay just for an entree!
Restaurant Week lasts until February 10. Here's a link to Frontera's featured menu, if you'd care to peruse: http://www.rickbayless.com/news/view?articleID=259
Course one, the Huitlacoche Enchiladas, had an interesting balance of flavors. The French-fried red onions on top presented a glimmer of familiarity in a dish otherwise entirely unique and foreign to me. The huitlacoche itself wasn't too assertive, something I appreciated since I'd never had it before. I mostly tasted the black beans, with a hint of...huitlacoche funkiness. Not bad funkiness, just funkiness. It's one of those flavors you can't quite put your finger on. The tomatillo sauce was sharp and acidic, a welcome attribute in a plate of rich beans, fried onions, and crumbled cheese.
Next to arrive at the table was the phenomenally beautiful Gunthorp pork with apricot mole. The apricot mole didn't scream apricot, but it complemented the pork in a way that only a stone fruit could. As in any good sauce, the heat in the mole doesn't hit you in the first bite; instead it builds over time, nuanced and complex. Atop the pork was a grilled apricot salsa, something I had difficulty identifying when the dish was put in front of me. I enjoyed it immensely. The salsa's texture contrasted perfectly with the tender pork and smooth butternut squash. The spinach gave the plate the bitterness it needed to counteract the sweet squash and sweet-spicy mole.
The final movement in this symphony was a superb interpretation of the pastel tres leches. Perched upon a smear of sweet goat's milk cajeta, the cake is reminiscent of a pound cake that's been dipped in milk. Not too wacky, right? Wrong. Because once we get beyond the caramel and cake, Frontera starts to get a little crazy. The cake is topped with little dollops of soft, lightly toasted meringue, with a texture reminiscent of marshmallow crème. Then, in a stroke of genius, the cake is topped with supremes of blood orange and candied blood orange rind. The sharp citrus, similar in flavor to a cross between a grapefruit and an orange (at least to my taste), kept the dish from seeming too cloyingly sweet.
Dessert went perfectly with my café de olla, its blood orange slices subtly echoing the orange zest flavor in the coffee.
I cannot applaud this special menu more. Get out there and try it. It's a fantastic price for fantastic food. Nothing like a little Frontera to alleviate the winter blues.
~The Amateur Foodie
I ate at Frontera on Friday, the first day of Chicago Restaurant Week. And I got the Restaurant Week menu. Three courses, twenty-two dollars. You read that right, twenty-two dollars. That's about how much you'd pay just for an entree!
Restaurant Week lasts until February 10. Here's a link to Frontera's featured menu, if you'd care to peruse: http://www.rickbayless.com/news/view?articleID=259
Course one, the Huitlacoche Enchiladas, had an interesting balance of flavors. The French-fried red onions on top presented a glimmer of familiarity in a dish otherwise entirely unique and foreign to me. The huitlacoche itself wasn't too assertive, something I appreciated since I'd never had it before. I mostly tasted the black beans, with a hint of...huitlacoche funkiness. Not bad funkiness, just funkiness. It's one of those flavors you can't quite put your finger on. The tomatillo sauce was sharp and acidic, a welcome attribute in a plate of rich beans, fried onions, and crumbled cheese.
Next to arrive at the table was the phenomenally beautiful Gunthorp pork with apricot mole. The apricot mole didn't scream apricot, but it complemented the pork in a way that only a stone fruit could. As in any good sauce, the heat in the mole doesn't hit you in the first bite; instead it builds over time, nuanced and complex. Atop the pork was a grilled apricot salsa, something I had difficulty identifying when the dish was put in front of me. I enjoyed it immensely. The salsa's texture contrasted perfectly with the tender pork and smooth butternut squash. The spinach gave the plate the bitterness it needed to counteract the sweet squash and sweet-spicy mole.
Dessert went perfectly with my café de olla, its blood orange slices subtly echoing the orange zest flavor in the coffee.
I cannot applaud this special menu more. Get out there and try it. It's a fantastic price for fantastic food. Nothing like a little Frontera to alleviate the winter blues.
~The Amateur Foodie
Saturday, January 26, 2013
Hey, Mom! I Got My Lunch From a Couple Guys in a Truck Today!
I wouldn't generally condone just accepting food from someone off the street. Unless of course the food in question comes out of a giant truck with a cast iron skillet painted on the side.
That, my friends, is the Southern Mac.
They cruise around town, bringing happiness and carbs to the people of Chicago. I, for one, love carbs, so these guys are awesome in my book.
I'm on board with the mac-in-a-truck idea for a few reasons (not least of all that it's not cafeteria food). It's convenient. It's fast. It's pretty darn economical (six bucks for regular mac, but hey, it's big enough for two meals...and it's not cafeteria food). And it's delish.
The guys have a couple options to choose from on the truck, and I almost got a mushroom-truffle concoction. I plan on getting fancy-dancy macaroni next time, but to truly measure a food truck's worth, I say go for the most bare-bones, simple item available. Go for the classic mac 'n' cheese.
Classic macaroni and cheese to some is merely a plate of macaroni pasta drenched in fluorescent orange "cheese" sauce. (No. No, it's not. And shame on you for believing that.) The Southern Mac's classic is made with aged cheddar (thank you!) and topped with buttery bread crumbs.
It was rich. Nothing wrong with that, really. It's what you need on a cold day. But I'd like to make one small, teeny-tiny, itty-bitty suggestion: May I please have a dill pickle with my macaroni?
I know it's weird! Okay? I get it! But I needed something to cut through all the butter and cream and cheddary goodness! It doesn't even need to be a dill pickle, really. It can be a pickled tomato. Or some other sort of pickled vegetation. It's just that it's a Southern macaroni truck. I think a pickled accoutrement would not be too much to ask. But it's really just a humble suggestion.
A lack of acidic side dish will not keep me from the truck though. I'm eagerly watching the Twitterverse for the next time they stop off in my 'hood. The Foodie wants some pasta, please.
Hungrily Yours,
-AF
That, my friends, is the Southern Mac.
They cruise around town, bringing happiness and carbs to the people of Chicago. I, for one, love carbs, so these guys are awesome in my book.
I'm on board with the mac-in-a-truck idea for a few reasons (not least of all that it's not cafeteria food). It's convenient. It's fast. It's pretty darn economical (six bucks for regular mac, but hey, it's big enough for two meals...and it's not cafeteria food). And it's delish.
 |
| Ah, yes...the Classic. |
Classic macaroni and cheese to some is merely a plate of macaroni pasta drenched in fluorescent orange "cheese" sauce. (No. No, it's not. And shame on you for believing that.) The Southern Mac's classic is made with aged cheddar (thank you!) and topped with buttery bread crumbs.
It was rich. Nothing wrong with that, really. It's what you need on a cold day. But I'd like to make one small, teeny-tiny, itty-bitty suggestion: May I please have a dill pickle with my macaroni?
I know it's weird! Okay? I get it! But I needed something to cut through all the butter and cream and cheddary goodness! It doesn't even need to be a dill pickle, really. It can be a pickled tomato. Or some other sort of pickled vegetation. It's just that it's a Southern macaroni truck. I think a pickled accoutrement would not be too much to ask. But it's really just a humble suggestion.
A lack of acidic side dish will not keep me from the truck though. I'm eagerly watching the Twitterverse for the next time they stop off in my 'hood. The Foodie wants some pasta, please.
Hungrily Yours,
-AF
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