Marshmallow Fluff and Peanut Butter

I've always had a strange attraction to marshmallow fluff.  When I would pass it in the supermarket, my eyes might linger a bit, flirting with the possibilities.  But I would never commit to a purchase.  It seemed like too much.  Too risky for me.  And so for years, the jar of fluff has been nothing more than a passing thought.

Then I was watching Chowdown Countdown on the Travel Channel, which featured a restaurant in NYC called Peanut Butter & Co which features an all peanut butter sandwich menu.  And on their menu is "The Fluffernutter."  It's "freshly ground peanut butter on one side and gobs of Marshmallow Fluff spread on the other."  And this made sense to me.  In fact, it seemed somewhat ingenious.  How have I not seen this before?! After a little research it's apparently a favorite in the Northeast.  In 2006, Massachusetts State Senator Jarrett Barrios had even proposed legislation restricting the serving of fluffernutter sandwiches in public schools in an attempt to combat childhood obesity.  How could she?! Marshmallow and peanut butter - it makes perfect sense.  And with that I set out to buy some fluff and make a sandwich. 

When I opened the jar, I was struck by the sweet powdery smell of marshmallows.  I dug the knife into the smooth creamy white substance and pulled away a large dollop. The crevice that was left behind in the jar was craggy and filled with holes.  I watched in amazement as the holes filled and surfaces oozed together reforming the perfectly smooth white surface.

The taste of marshmallow is immediate upon biting into a fluffernutter.  The sweetness lingers a bit, but it's followed by the richer salty peanut butter. The fluff adds body and even some moisture to the sandwich while avoiding the sogginess that sometimes comes with jelly.  After two, maybe three sandwiches (in the name of being thorough and sure), I can say that I am a fan. 

Current Obsession: Maple Pretz

When it comes to snacks, I tend to eat things in bunches.  I fixate on one snack and eat it intensively for a period of time. Currently I'm eating a old favorite: Maple Pretz.  

Pretz are delicate stick-shaped biscuits, like pretzels, but sweeter.  Maple Pretz have a soft maple and butter flavor and taste like the essence of pancakes. 

Maple Pretz has been available off and on in Chicago over the past few years.  A few years ago I had it and loved it.  It was a limited edition flavor that I thought I had lost forever (apparently it may have be available in Canada).  Then Ezaki Glico made a similar and equally delicious French Toast Pretz.  But that too was limited edition.  While at Mitsuwa the other day (where I found the Baumkuchen), I saw some fresh bags of Maple Pretz.  I had better eat up while I can. 

Baum Update

I was in Mitsuwa and found a large ring of Baumkuchen for ~$6.  It has a nice mild flavor and comes conveniently packaged.  It seems like a nice alternative for the Baumkuchen fix when you can't wait for Christmas or a trip to the Hong Kong airport.

Baumkuchen

After reading Mimi Sheraton's chronicles of her search for Baumkuchen in the New Yorker, I was inspired to start my own quest, albeit on a much smaller scale.  Unlike the aforementioned Ms. Sheraton, I have no great history with Baumkuchen, but that is not to say that I have none.  While it may not be a fifty year saga, I have been curious about the cake since I had it in Hong Kong a few years ago (actually, it's hard to be precise about the exact location I first had the cake, because I bought it at the airport and at it on the plane probably while suspended somewhere over the Pacific).

While at the airport, I was looking for snacks at Muji, a Japanese based chain.  It had always seemed odd that my first introduction to Germany's "king of cakes" would be from a Japanese chain in a Chinese airport (Apparently Baumkuchen has been popular in Japan since 1919 because of a captured German baker who opened  bakery in Kobe).   

At Muji, they have a large selection of different flavored Baumkuchen including banana, sweet potato and corn?!  I had bought one and eaten it about midway through the flight back to Chicago.  The texture was a little more springy than a pound cake, and it had a nice mild flavor.  I spent the rest of the flight regretting not buying more and plotting ways of getting a supply to Chicago.

Los Angeles, GastroBus

Just before Thanksgiving, I was in Palm Springs for a wedding.   On the Sunday before heading back to Chicago on the red-eye, we stopped by Grace's sister, Denise's place in Los Feliz.  We arrived at her apartment around 1pm and I was hungry from the drive.  I had originally planned on hunting down the famed Kogi Taco trucks for lunch (I had signed up for a twitter account just to find them), but thanks to a twitter update I learned the fleet of Kogi trucks were on break until Tuesday.

A bit despondent, we left  Denise's place in search for some food.  As we headed out, we stopped a farmers market set up in the Los Feliz post office parking lot.  And since I can't pass up a farmer's market, we decided to explore a bite. 

As my hunger started to peak, we spotted a bright yellow food truck parked in the back of the market:  Gastrobus.  What a fabulous name!  Beside the truck was a hand written menu, consisting of seasonal item all costing around $4.

The owners of Gastrobus apparently shop at the market and develop a menu around the item they buy at the market.   We ending up trying 3 items.

 

 The roasted garlic with heirloom tomatoes and toast a nice start. The garlic was sweet with a bite of salt.  The only problem was how the tomatoes were cut mad eating a bit cumbersome.

The beans and yams came fried in a tempura with a sweet soy. The sauce was subtle and very nice and the batter was perfectly light.

Far and away, the best thing we ate was the corn flapjacks.  The flapjacks were bursting with sweet corn and topped with a smooth farmer's cheese. The cheese, which was like a nice ricotta, added a creaminess and a hint of calt to the flapjacks. 

More food trucks please!

Michael Symon

Michael Symon was out promoting his new cookbook/philosophy book, Live to Cook yesterday at Williams Sonoma Michigan Ave.  It was pretty intimate with just about 25-30 people hovering around the small demonstration kitchen near the front of the store. 


The Iron Chef arrived around 5:00 and before we could see him we could hear his patented laugh. He started with a brief overview of his philosophy and his cookbook.

To summarize:

• love pork
• love salt
• love acid
• use bacon fat
• use duck fat
• eat/cook what you like

He is truly a wise man.  Apparently he cooks mostly bacon fat and duck fat at home, which is amazing a brilliant.  It was makes me a little jealous.  Not for the food, but because the man is pretty slim and fit; I don't think I would be if I ate that at home.  

After the quick chat he began cooking.  He was preparing  a pork chop Milanese with an arugula salad.  He started by pounded flat the pork chop and then a standard breading (flour, egg, breadcrumbs with a little Parmesan).  In a hot pan he had olive oil and butter to fry the chops. 

Pretty impressively he used his hands for everything.  Including pulling the chop out of a hot pan covered in hot oil. I don't think I've seen anything manlier.

It makes me want to toughen my hands, but I'm not sure what's the best/fastest way to kill all the sensory nerves in my fingers.

He then composed a vinaigrette of lemon, garlic and olive oil for the arugula salad.  He salted the garlic which was a nice trick to soften and sweeten the flavor of the garlic. 

After finishing the dish, he opened up for questions.  After a polite midwestern pause the crowd began a string of food network related questions.  Here are a few of the revelations:

On Iron Chef:

• 
  
  Favorite Secret Ingrediant: Suckling Pig, Offal as runner up 
  
  
  
• 
  
  He does get a list of 3 possible ingredients prior to the battle but it doesn't help him very much because he films multiple episodes in a 3 wks period. 
  
  
  
• 
  
  The "chairman is a freak."  Apparently Mark Dacascos is ridiculously fast and can kick you in the face.
  
  
  
• 
  
  He knows the winner of the Next Iron Chef.  And he won't tell.  Poo. 
  
  
  

On Dinner Impossible:

• 
  
  He hated it.  Hated.
  

After the book signing more pork chops were made and little samples hand out.  The chop was nice and the salad had a nice aggressive acidity. 

Keeping the lights on

The Farmhouse Inn and Restaurant in Forestville, Cal., still had their lights on after the winding roads of west Sonoma country had got lonely and dark. I had gotten something wrong, and we weren't on the list for 7:30. But, never mind---can we take your coats, here's a table with a view, still or sparkling, and the wine list.

We asked for a Riesling. (There were twenty-four: 12 dry, 12 off-dry.) "How about something with some age on it: a 1995 J. J. Prum from Mosel." Round in the mouth, with raisins and caramel. Heavy, balanced. Possibly a little too one-note. But why quibble when it's a delicious one?

We had a really nice salad of butter lettuce, pear, manchego, maracona almonds. And then...seared foie gras that was still plump from the heat. I did not chew, I suckled. Burnt butter and caramel, a firm, savory custard. It was so good I forgot to take a picture. It was without question the best thing I ate on this trip to California. Perhaps it's cheating to compete with goose NASH. I don't care.

The signature dish of the chef at the Farmhouse Inn is Rabbit, Rabbit, Rabbit: roasted rack of rabbit (bottom right), applewood-smoked-bacon wrapped loin (left), and confit leg in whole grain mustard sauce. I felt I had to get it. I have not had too much rabbit, but I can guess it is a tricky beast to cook. There can't be that many lazy rabbits, meaning that the meat is liable to be lean and very easy to dry. The loin (surrounded by bacon) had the mouth-feel of perfectly cooked pork tenderloin. The rack, with its ribs like fork tines, a bit more moist and savory, and delicious in its simple unadorned preparation. The confit leg, well, I mean it as a compliment when I say it reminded me of perfectly cooked duck. All in all I am glad we had this; next time we'll feel free to try the rest of the gorgeous, local, slow-food menu.

My wife chose the blue nose sea bass with chanterelles, celeriac, apple, and potato puree. This dish was something really extraordinary. Where the Rabbit, Rabbit, Rabbit struck three clear notes with the same instrument, all of the components here, though quite distinct in texture and flavor, cohered into a singular, sublime, lush and buttery liquor of flavor. And I was happy with how the Riesling was able to support the many disparate elements of the meal: the robust savoriness of the rabbit, the rich creaminess of the fish. We spoke little, until it was all done.

For desert, a superb chocolate souffle (imagine a chocolate marshmallow perfectly browned on a camp fire), and then this, figs served atop pedestals of chocolate and caramel, in a strip of caramel sauce that is studded with port-fig reduction, alongside a lemon granita with chocolate fondant. All those words are not adequate to the task of supporting the flavors in this desert. There was enough flavor here to stop a steam engine.

We bid adieu to wine country. We look forward to returning.