Cornbread

Over Christmas, I finally got a couple of my mom's cast iron pans. She's got loads of them, a result of dwindling numbers of living relatives and dwindling family sizes with each generation.

I haven't had much interest in making cornbread for many years. Primarily because my mom makes the best cornbread. And I like for her to make it for me. But as she lives three hours away, it's become necessary that I make it on my own. Real cornbread, that is. Not Jiffy. For one, Jiffy has lard in the mix. For two, Jiffy is sweet cornbread and cornbread's just not supposed to be sweet.

So, these days, I'm not making sweet Jiffy cornbread any more, but I'm still cheating and using a mix. For two reasons: I don't keep milk on hand and because Weisenberger's mix is so darn good (and the perfect amount for two people). Though I suppose it wouldn't kill me to try to make it with soy milk sometime. Though, God love her, that would probably kill my mother who's unhappy that I'm even eating yellow corn meal. Nope, to her, real cornbread is made with white cornmeal. Hey, sue me, I like yellow corn better! Regardless, here's my mother's very simple cornbread recipe (adapted over the years to exclude shortening and critter goo):

Real Southern Cornbread
• 2 tablespoons oil (canola, vegetable or corn oil--not olive oil)
• 2 cups white cornmeal (yellow is good, too!)
• 1 teaspoon baking powder
• 2 teaspoons salt
• 1 large egg
• 1 cup milk (skim, 2%, or whatever you've got)--you may not need the whole cup, though. Add enough so that the batter pours slowly.

1. Preheat oven to 450°F. Place oil in a 9-inch cast iron skillet or similar-size glass baking dish place in oven while it's heating.

2. Mix cornmeal, baking powder and salt in a medium bowl. Add egg and milk and stir until just combined.

3. Remove the pan from the oven when it's fully heated and swirl the oil to coat the bottom and partway up the sides. Pour the batter into the skillet and bake until the bread is firm in the middle and lightly golden (about 20 minutes). Cool five minutes, flip inverted onto a plate and slice into triangles.

I was lucky enough to get a divided pan along with a skillet. Clean-up takes a little more time, but the crispy edges makes it very worth it. I served it with purple hull peas (seasoned with a little Liquid Smoke), corn (frozen, not on the cob) and steamed broccoli for a good southern (and healthy) meal.

A weekend of Asian food (and a little Mediterranean, too)

Many people spent this past weekend celebrating the Chinese new year with, well, Chinese food. Despite this being the year of the rat and being a rat myself, I did not celebrate with Chinese food. But I did have some "Asian" food.

I'm not typically a fan of using the word "Asian" as a blanket descriptor, but that's the term they use at Basil Asian Bistro, where the SO and I dined Friday night. I started out with vegetarian spring rolls and a few bites of the SO's coconut tofu soup and had tofu vegetables for dinner with a side of brown rice. Everything was delicious, but I was particularly pleased with the soup. I wished I'd ordered a cup for myself instead of having to bogart the SO's.

The restaurant itself was dimly lit for a nice, romantic dinner. Despite its openness, the tables were well-spaced for a reasonable amount of privacy. The service was attentive but may have been a little overworked that night as it was a tad slow at first. I'd heard good things about the restaurant, but really knew I'd made a good choice when I was spotted by Claudia of cook eat Fret. She said it's one of her favorite places in the area and she knows her food, so that's quite an endorsement.

Saturday afternoon, the weather was lovely for February and it made me want to eat al fresco. Given that there aren't a lot of patios open this time of year, we decided to get take-out and head for a park. I got a falafel plate from up the street at Gyros International (the SO got beef gyros--yuck). The falafel is prepared (by an ever-so-friendly and accommodating man) when you order it so you have time to pop in next door at the African grocery and get some plantain chips and ginger cookies. Unfortunately for me, that day the grocery was also filled with what appeared to be boxes of charred chickens or ducks. The smell of crispy fowl was not pleasant. But the people who work there are pleasant, so I smiled, paid for my desserts and got out ASAP.

Saturday night, we ate out yet again. This time, we were in my neighborhood since we had plans to see a show at the Exit/In later. So we opted for a healthy but filling dinner at Miss Saigon. I got one of my two usual favorites, the #10 mixed tofu with vegetables over vermicelli and convinced the SO to try the lemongrass tofu. The #10 was good as always and the lemongrass tofu was roughly the same dish except that the vegetables are topped with the tofu and a sauce rather than just mixed (shredded) tofu and peanuts. It was very good, but had a kick. There was still some lemongrass stinging the SO's lips for a while after dinner.

Dinner didn't take long, so we got down to Elliston Place a little earlier than expected. So we headed over to Cafe Coco for some caffeinated beverages to help our old bodies stay awake past 10pm. And much to my amazed delight, there were still several pieces of Italian wedding cake in the cooler. The SO had never had it before, so I talked him into sharing a piece.

If you've never had Italian wedding cake, I am very sorry. Because it's amazing stuff. Years ago, I had it and was so taken with it, I decided to make it myself. And then I read the recipe. So I have never made it and only rarely eat it. Take a look at the recipe and you'll see why. But I will occasionally calorie-splurge when I see it available in an establishment with trusted desserts (such as Cafe Coco). Needless to say, after eating half that piece of cake plus a small soy chai latte, I was rarin' to go for the next few hours. I think I finally settled down (read: crashed) around 1am. I can hardly fit in my jeans today, but that cake was oh so worth it.

As for Sunday night, I cooked at home. Vegetables and cornbread. It was the beginning of the detox from the excesses of the weekend. More on that later.

Joey's House of Pizza

They ain't quite as good as John's on Bleecker Street, but Joey's House of Pizza in Brentwood (as well as the House of Pizza in the Arcade in downtown Nashville) is certainly very good and good enough to satisfy my cravings for authentic New York style pizza.

My only idea for improvement is for more locations and longer hours of operation. Until that happens, I'll have to settle for the occasional lunch with one of the ever-growing number of friends I have working in the Brentwood area.

Okay, one other request would be for the vegetable calzone not to have onions and green bell peppers, but that's a little too much to ask.

The Truth About Hummus

A favorite local lunch spot of mine serves really good hummus. Usually the standard garlic plus a selection of flavored ones such as spinach pesto and chipotle (isn't chipotle passé now?). Anyway, I figured the other day, hey, hummus is just mashed chickpeas and a little other stuff; I can make that! So I did. First, here's a basic recipe:

One can (14-15 ounces) chickpeas, drained and rinsed
4-6 ounces of tahini (to taste--I like more; get tahini at the Mediterranean grocery, Wild Oats/Whole Foods, or the hippie aisle at the Kroger)
2-4 ounces of lemon juice (to taste--I like more)
2 ounces water
2 cloves of minced garlic (or two tablespoons of the already-minced garlic--in oil or water)
2-3 hearty pinches of cumin (to taste)

Blend all ingredients and garnish with extra virgin olive oil and kalamata olives.

Here's what the recipes don't tell you.

1. You really ought to do this in a good food processor. I don't have one, so I used my blender. And I think I nearly burned out the motor. Maybe doing half that recipe at a time would have been a better idea. Until I get aforementioned food processor.

2. You can add other ingedients for a nice flavored hummus. One recipe called for roasted red peppers packed in oil. What that recipe didn't mention is that those peppers still retain a lot of moisture, so once you've added enough to get the flavor, your consistency isn't right. It was a little runny, though it tasted good. Again, probably would have been a good idea to cut the recipe in half and make the first one standard and then leave out the added water in the recipe for the roasted red pepper version. Maybe even cut back on the lemon juice. Or I could have roasted my own pepper in the toaster oven and tried it. It would not have been as juicy.

3. Fifteen ounces of chickpeas plus another twelve ounces of other ingredients yields a lot of hummus. A lot. As in, enough to feed more than ten people. Ten hummus-loving people. Maybe 14-16 standard hummus-liking people. So ignore any recipe you find calling for more than one can of chickpeas unless you're preparing it for a large party or perhaps an army.

Now I'm off to make some care packages of roasted red pepper hummus for unsuspecting friends and neighbors. Drive-by hummussing.

International Food Mart

An errand today required me to be in a very ethnically diverse part of south Nashville today. It gave me the excuse I've been needing to pay a visit to the International Food Mart on Thompson Lane. I've never left that place empty-handed, disappointed or without my curiosity piqued. This is where I've previously purchased rosewater, keffir cheese, bulk spices, and my favorite breads from the Baraka Bakery (located further down Nolensville near Old Hickory Boulevard).

My goal today was to buy some chickpeas and tahini to make some hummus this weekend as well as Baraka's whole wheat pita bread. But I was lured over to the counter where the figs are and just had to get some. They're something like $6.99 a pound (which would equal enough for about four snacks for a real fan) and they're totally worth it.

But while I was standing in line, my eyes were drawn to the produce next to me. Sitting in the middle like the crown princess on a homecoming float was a box of pears. But not just any pears, but these delicate (read: small) yellow and red pears. The red covered the yellow in the form of freckles. Being a freckledy person myself, I grabbed three of them to give them a try.

Generally speaking, I'm not a huge fan of pears. Your standard Bartlett does nothing for me. And I once waited two months for a large Asian pear to ripen only to discover I'd waited too late (checking it every day got old after the first three weeks, lemme tell ya). But these pears intrigued me. And they did not disappoint me. The first bite of this pear was like a sweet explosion. But not too sweet. Like pear jam but still in a fruit form. Oh, soooo delicious. I devoured the pear and then sucked the carcass clean like a cheetah out on the savana. All that's left is a stem and seeds. A little research suggests these are Forelle pears.

Usually, produce at this grocery is really cheap (as in, a bundle of cilantro is only $.69 as opposed to Kroger's $1.99 or whatever) and good quality, so I was surprised to see that three pears cost almost three dollars. But, when you think about it, they're hardly more than some crappy candy bar and a lot healthier. So I'm going back tomorrow to get some more of these little teardrops of heaven.