It's 10pm and still light outside. The lake in front of my apartment has not yet gained it's nightly crust of ice. I rode a bike three miles to work this morning without getting frostbite. These factors together can mean only one thing - the Alaskan barbeque season has arrived.
Our season for grilling may be shorter than in many other places, but that's all the more reason to cherish it while it lasts. With this in mind, I'm preparing to give a new favorite of mine it's first barbeque trial - Evil Evelyn's Alaskan Honey Mustard Sauce.
I picked up this tangy little treat at the Holiday Bazaar at the Fairbanks Carlson Center this past November, and can barely believe that any of it has made it long enough to be used outdoors. My first time using it was on a pair of pan-fried pork chops that I cooked up with some sauerkraut. The result? I damaged the pan's non-stick coating trying to scrape the last of the mouth-watering drippings onto my plate. Cookware be damned - this mustard is that good.
The oddest part is that up to that point I had never been a honey mustard (or any mustard) fan. In fact, I loathed the stuff with a passion so intense that I habitually pulled apart fast food cheeseburgers in order to scrape the offending substance off of the bun with a french fry. I still do that, but this Indian, AK product has carved out a tiny foothold in my heart for mustard-kind.
Before anyone rushes willy-nilly for the Seward Highway, you can buy it online at www.buyalaska.com. As for the grill, watch for Part II to find out if charcoal and Evil Evelyn's can combine their already awesome powers to lure me further into the dark side of mustard love.
20 April 2011
12 April 2011
Restaurant Review: Pad Thai
The little log cabin seems inconsequential when one drives past it; a few pots of fake flowers outside, lacy curtains in the windows, a bright pop of color from the sign reading 'Pad Thai.' Despite it's diminutive appearance and it's self-explanatory name (Pad Thai is, after all, one of the most immediately recognized Thai dishes in the United States, so naming a Thai restaurant after it doesn't exactly take a genius of nomenclature), this particular establishment is far above and beyond the standard ethnic fare in Fairbanks.
Some will argue this point with me, and possibly go to bat for their preferred Interior Alaska Thai spot. To them I respond that, having tried several other joints serving this particular cuisine, none of them have matched Pad Thai's exemplary service, atmosphere and taste. Case in point: yesterday, tired after a long day of work and knowing that I was going home to an apartment in shambles thanks to a bout of furniture buying and rearranging, I called Pad Thai to request an order for pickup. Their response?
"It will be ready in 15 minutes."
A quarter of an hour. Less time than an episode of most television shows. Have you ever had a pizza or an order of Chinese food be ready to eat in 15 minutes, unless you were in a restaurant? I haven't. I don't expect that I ever will, and even if I did, Thai food is probably much better for me. Yes, I had to go get it, but I was already out anyway. I arrived a little before it was ready, and while I waited I had the opportunity to study one of the wall hangings by the register. I have no idea how the artist managed to fold and secure the various patterns of silk that depicted two armies riding into battle on elephants, and I don't want to know, because I think my head would explode upon finding out how long that took. Thus, even when I wasn't going to be eating in the restaurant, the aura of the place managed to affect me. Dining in is even more ridiculously stimulating, because you get the smell and taste of your food and drink mixing with half-shouted exclamations in Thai from the kitchen, the visual of the wall art, and the feel of the heavy rice ladle conforming perfectly to your fingers. This combination of the senses is exactly what dining should be, and Pad Thai rises to that level seemingly effortlessly.
Everything that comes out of the kitchen intended for human consumption is utterly fabulous. The crunchy exterior of the hot rolls gives way to layers of vegetables that shouldn't seem to melt in your mouth but do anyway, no doubt breaking some sort of law about food masquerading as a solid. To pick just one entree is to damn the rest of the menu with faint praise, so I won't go there, but my advice is to try everything at least twice. It's true that by doing this you will no doubt help to make the owners of Pad Thai rich beyond their wildest dreams, but at least you get to enjoy what may well be the best commercially available Thai food to be found outside of Thailand itself.
Plus, maybe if we're lucky they'll invest in some more of those mind-boggling silk pictures.
(In case you need to read MORE rave reviews about Pad Thai before actually venturing there, check out the link to Urban Spoon by clicking on the post title)
Some will argue this point with me, and possibly go to bat for their preferred Interior Alaska Thai spot. To them I respond that, having tried several other joints serving this particular cuisine, none of them have matched Pad Thai's exemplary service, atmosphere and taste. Case in point: yesterday, tired after a long day of work and knowing that I was going home to an apartment in shambles thanks to a bout of furniture buying and rearranging, I called Pad Thai to request an order for pickup. Their response?
"It will be ready in 15 minutes."
A quarter of an hour. Less time than an episode of most television shows. Have you ever had a pizza or an order of Chinese food be ready to eat in 15 minutes, unless you were in a restaurant? I haven't. I don't expect that I ever will, and even if I did, Thai food is probably much better for me. Yes, I had to go get it, but I was already out anyway. I arrived a little before it was ready, and while I waited I had the opportunity to study one of the wall hangings by the register. I have no idea how the artist managed to fold and secure the various patterns of silk that depicted two armies riding into battle on elephants, and I don't want to know, because I think my head would explode upon finding out how long that took. Thus, even when I wasn't going to be eating in the restaurant, the aura of the place managed to affect me. Dining in is even more ridiculously stimulating, because you get the smell and taste of your food and drink mixing with half-shouted exclamations in Thai from the kitchen, the visual of the wall art, and the feel of the heavy rice ladle conforming perfectly to your fingers. This combination of the senses is exactly what dining should be, and Pad Thai rises to that level seemingly effortlessly.
Everything that comes out of the kitchen intended for human consumption is utterly fabulous. The crunchy exterior of the hot rolls gives way to layers of vegetables that shouldn't seem to melt in your mouth but do anyway, no doubt breaking some sort of law about food masquerading as a solid. To pick just one entree is to damn the rest of the menu with faint praise, so I won't go there, but my advice is to try everything at least twice. It's true that by doing this you will no doubt help to make the owners of Pad Thai rich beyond their wildest dreams, but at least you get to enjoy what may well be the best commercially available Thai food to be found outside of Thailand itself.
Plus, maybe if we're lucky they'll invest in some more of those mind-boggling silk pictures.
(In case you need to read MORE rave reviews about Pad Thai before actually venturing there, check out the link to Urban Spoon by clicking on the post title)
05 April 2011
Frighteningly Easy Faves: Chicken Soup
De sopa y amor, la primera es el mejor.
Of soup and love, the first one is the best.
-Old Spanish Proverb
Nothing says spring like snow melt flooding your garage and a cold flooding your head. Just when it seems like you should be spending more time outside, a last-minute case of the ick catches you off guard and makes extended hibernation look awfully inviting. For those of you who are sharing my seasonal sniffles, I present a special treat lauded in song and story as the cure for all ills; chicken soup.
Whether it's homemade or fresh from the can, chicken soup has been present in the human diet for roughly as long as we've had domesticated fowl. Not surprisingly, many very different cultures prescribed chicken soup as a panacea. Maimonides, a Jewish scholar and physician living in the Moorish city of Córdoba in the 12th century, recommended chicken soup as a soother for asthma attacks in his treatise On Asthma. Prescriptions for chicken broth were common in medieval Europe, and Chinese medicine has used blends of chicken and herbs for millennia. What went into the pot with the chicken varied depending on local availability and practices - virtually anything that tasted good with the highly versatile meat found it's way into a recipe at some point.
When most Americans think of chicken soup today, it is the iconic Campbell's label that floats to the top of our minds (thanks, Andy Warhol and a billion exposures to advertising over the course of a lifetime!). While canned soups can be delicious and, often more importantly, highly convenient, once you've tasted a good homemade chicken soup you will forever carry it as a hallmark of what soup ought to be. The following is an easy recipe for chicken and rice soup that I use on cold winter nights when nothing will do but a flavor that has comforted mankind through the ages:
Ingredients: 1 pound chicken; 2 cups long-grain brown rice; 1 cup sliced carrots; 1 cup sliced celery; 1/3 cup diced onion; vegetable or chicken bouillon.
Directions:
1) Cut chicken into 1-inch or smaller cubes and heat in a frying pan until it begins to brown. Flavorings are optional at this stage - I like to add a little olive oil, rosemary and thyme to the chicken while it's cooking.
2) While the chicken cooks, fill a crock pot or regular large pot 2/3 full of water. I personally recommend using a pot that can hold around 5 quarts; larger or smaller batches may need more or less of the base ingredients. Bring up to a low boil. Add your bouillon, following the instructions on the packaging. Add rice and allow to cook, keeping the container covered stirring occasionally to keep from sticking.
3) If your vegetables haven't yet been sliced, use the remaining time while the chicken cooks to prepare them. Add to the boiling water as soon as they are ready.
4) Once the chicken is cooked, add it to the pot.
5) Keep the soup on a low boil until the rice and vegetables are cooked, stirring occasionally. Once all the ingredients are amply cooked, the soup can be eaten immediately or left to simmer, covered, for up to several hours. The longer it heats the thicker and more flavorful it will be.
6) Make sure you store any leftovers in a timely manner. I like to freeze the extra soup so that I have a quick and tasty dinner option for in the near future.
There are tons of optional veggies that could be added to this soup depending on the maker's tastes, including peas, broccoli, squash, corn, and many more. Fresh biscuits (and yes, I do count refrigerated dough as fresh, especially when you've just made soup from scratch) or, for the really ambitious, fresh bread are great sides to this meal.
Anyone who tries this recipe or a variation of it, or who has their own favorite version of chicken soup, is encouraged to leave a comment.
Of soup and love, the first one is the best.
-Old Spanish Proverb
Nothing says spring like snow melt flooding your garage and a cold flooding your head. Just when it seems like you should be spending more time outside, a last-minute case of the ick catches you off guard and makes extended hibernation look awfully inviting. For those of you who are sharing my seasonal sniffles, I present a special treat lauded in song and story as the cure for all ills; chicken soup.
Whether it's homemade or fresh from the can, chicken soup has been present in the human diet for roughly as long as we've had domesticated fowl. Not surprisingly, many very different cultures prescribed chicken soup as a panacea. Maimonides, a Jewish scholar and physician living in the Moorish city of Córdoba in the 12th century, recommended chicken soup as a soother for asthma attacks in his treatise On Asthma. Prescriptions for chicken broth were common in medieval Europe, and Chinese medicine has used blends of chicken and herbs for millennia. What went into the pot with the chicken varied depending on local availability and practices - virtually anything that tasted good with the highly versatile meat found it's way into a recipe at some point.
When most Americans think of chicken soup today, it is the iconic Campbell's label that floats to the top of our minds (thanks, Andy Warhol and a billion exposures to advertising over the course of a lifetime!). While canned soups can be delicious and, often more importantly, highly convenient, once you've tasted a good homemade chicken soup you will forever carry it as a hallmark of what soup ought to be. The following is an easy recipe for chicken and rice soup that I use on cold winter nights when nothing will do but a flavor that has comforted mankind through the ages:
Ingredients: 1 pound chicken; 2 cups long-grain brown rice; 1 cup sliced carrots; 1 cup sliced celery; 1/3 cup diced onion; vegetable or chicken bouillon.
Directions:
1) Cut chicken into 1-inch or smaller cubes and heat in a frying pan until it begins to brown. Flavorings are optional at this stage - I like to add a little olive oil, rosemary and thyme to the chicken while it's cooking.
2) While the chicken cooks, fill a crock pot or regular large pot 2/3 full of water. I personally recommend using a pot that can hold around 5 quarts; larger or smaller batches may need more or less of the base ingredients. Bring up to a low boil. Add your bouillon, following the instructions on the packaging. Add rice and allow to cook, keeping the container covered stirring occasionally to keep from sticking.
3) If your vegetables haven't yet been sliced, use the remaining time while the chicken cooks to prepare them. Add to the boiling water as soon as they are ready.
4) Once the chicken is cooked, add it to the pot.
5) Keep the soup on a low boil until the rice and vegetables are cooked, stirring occasionally. Once all the ingredients are amply cooked, the soup can be eaten immediately or left to simmer, covered, for up to several hours. The longer it heats the thicker and more flavorful it will be.
6) Make sure you store any leftovers in a timely manner. I like to freeze the extra soup so that I have a quick and tasty dinner option for in the near future.
There are tons of optional veggies that could be added to this soup depending on the maker's tastes, including peas, broccoli, squash, corn, and many more. Fresh biscuits (and yes, I do count refrigerated dough as fresh, especially when you've just made soup from scratch) or, for the really ambitious, fresh bread are great sides to this meal.
Anyone who tries this recipe or a variation of it, or who has their own favorite version of chicken soup, is encouraged to leave a comment.
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