A Love Letter to Boston

Last week I made one final trip into the city to say goodbye before the chaos of the moving process really took hold in earnest. As I have always done over the years when feeling out of sorts, I paid a visit to the historic wing of the Boston Public Library. The elegance and timelessness of the baroque architecture and Sargent’s beautiful murals have never failed to make me feel calmer and more centered when Im feeling run down, overwhelmed, or even just sad. In the dim, womblike enclosure of the upper level I almost always find myself alone, which is truly a rare thing in downtown Boston.

At this time the library was hosting a retrospective exhibition of Jules Aarons’ photographs of Boston Neighborhoods during the 1950’s and 1960’s and it felt appropriate to check it out and make contact with the city’s history one last time. But looking at these incredibly intimate and candid shots of street life during a time before I was born, I had a hard time relating what I saw to the Boston of today, the Boston that I know. I realized just how much the city must have changed over the years and how little I was aware of those changes. My presence here for these last 8 years has been little more than a blip on the city’s radar. So I started to wonder….do I really ‘know’ Boston at all?

Maybe that is a part of the sadness of leaving that I hadn’t counted on…this feeling that I have nothing to hold on to, that I cant take Boston with me because it isn’t mine, was never mine, at least not in the way that the people who have been born and raised here feel it in their very bones, feel that it belongs to them and they to it. I have loved my life here but in some ways I have always been just visiting, an eternal interloper or tourist. It seems that I have never had enough time to see everything, to learn everything, I was just passing through.

But Boston, I love you. I love you so very much. I love that your streets distain the thought of a grid, that they meander in organic madness and make walking more efficient than driving. I love how mom and pop stores from another era still cling to business in the midst of your most gentrified areas. I love the way that slick steel and glass skyscrapers sit shoulder to shoulder so companionably with crooked townhouses of aging brick and stone. I love your back alleys, where some of the best restaurants hide. I love your river that divides you from Cambridge, but never manages to keep you apart. I love your graveyards where the stones have been washed clean of memory by rain and wind. I love your suburbs, where each town retains its own unique identity, while still remaining loyal, and I love all of the amazing, challenging, and wonderful people that I have been privileged to call friends.

I love you for what you were, what you are, for all the things I have seen, and all things I have been blind to. You took me in and nurtured me, even though I wasn’t your own and now you are letting me go, sending me on my way to a new destiny. And maybe I have actually been privileged because I have never belonged to you….your sights have never become mundane and you have never ceased surprising me. Often an outsider can see things that a native cannot. So I hope because of this, you’ll let me carry just a part of you with me. Goodbye Boston, I will never forget you, and Im sure we will meet again one day.

The Cat Came Back

I truly love living in a city (or at least within shouting distance of one). Yes, its noisy, the traffic is atrocious, and its hard to find personal space when you are out and about, but a city is so varied, so multi-layered, so full of stories and textures that it can attain an almost magical quality if you look at it the right way. Read Italo Calvino’s Invisible Cities and you’ll see what I mean. He understood that what we think of as one city, as a single organism is actually many worlds, all crammed together, all coexisting. Some of these worlds are obvious and some can only been seen in the right light or when you are in the right mood.

I grew up in suburbia and for me cities were once places where one went on vacation….as some people go on safari. You gawk, you keep a map close at hand, and when you leave, its almost with a sigh of relief. Oh yes, I’d say, I love to visit, but I could never LIVE there. So when I first moved to Boston for Grad school about 7 years ago, I was so terrified, that I literally didn’t leave my apartment for several days. I sensed that the city was a beast, that it wanted to absorb me, digest me, and I wasn’t ready to give myself up to something bigger than myself that I couldn’t understand. But over the years I learned how to do just that and it was only then that I was able to see past the big picture and pick out the tiny facets beneath.

I’m writing about this now because of one of these tiny facets that I noticed last week, the type of little incident that seems unimportant but manages to tenaciously stick in your mind.

When I was working in the South End, I used to take the commuter rail into South Station early every morning. Right before the train heads into the station, it crosses a sort of wasteland of access roads, construction sites, and rusted heaps of metal. Every time I passed through this spot on my morning commute, my eye was caught by the same thing; a sort of make-shift dog house sitting right there in the middle of this industrial dumping ground. It was really no more than a box with a small door cut out of it, and there was often a bowl for food or water placed out front. I always wondered what sort of creature lived there, but never gave it more than idle speculation. Then, several weeks ago I was taking the train into downtown on a shopping trip and saw that the house was gone. Suddenly I felt very very sad…, as if instead of a mystery being solved, it had simply been blotted out. I was surprised how much this little bit of a story and its disappearance had affected me. A few days later I was again riding the train, and there it was, a brand new house, this one very obviously hand crafted. Sitting next to it was a large grey Persian cat.

It sounds silly I know, but the sight of a domestic cat, out there in a place that is the closest to the middle of nowhere that you can come to in a city, was almost shocking to me. I thought wow….this is it, this is the animal that has been living here all these years. Someone that works on the trains saw this animal, fed it, built a home for it, and has cared for it all this time….and probably very few other people are even aware of its existence. It is tied to the city as much as the train, the station, all the other large blatant parts of Boston are, but it exists in another world that can only be seen if you are looking for it. It made me wonder….how many other things are living and happening that I don’t know about. Things in odd corners, in back alleys, or maybe even right out in front of me? This is what it is to be part of a city, I mused,….it’s a constant discovery, an eternal exploration. Who knows what those canyons and jungles of cement and steel have to offer. I guess that’s why its so important to always fight for the window seat on the train. ;-)

Carnitas

I would never go so far as to describe Jeff and I as vegetarians,( although for some time we did rub elbows with that disciplined crew) but we do rarely eat meat, and it is the central feature of our home cooked meals only once in a blue moon. I cant take sides in the great 'to eat or not to eat' debate, I’m far too conflicted myself to offer up any solid arguments, but I do feel strongly that eating meat should never be taken lightly. If one chooses to partake, I think it should be done with thoughtfulness and appreciation. I hate the idea of disembodied chunks of meat moved from freezer to plate with the casualness and lack of regard that one usually reserves for processed snack food. Think before you eat. Take a moment to consider your place in the food chain and maybe feel a little gratitude for what you are receiving, that’s all I ask. I came across a poem a while ago that I wrote down on a sticky note and then promptly lost, but it went a little something like this:

‘When you kill a beast, say to it: as I take your life, so too shall a far greater hand one day take mine.’ In other words, always remember that whatever you take from the world must someday be returned. Now there’s a thought for Earth day.

I might add, that the less meat you eat, the easier it becomes to be thoughtful about it, for the occasional addition to your plate gains all the special excitement of a culinary event. Weds night was one of those events. After a carb heavy meal the night before (risotto) Jeff put in a request for something a little different. What the hell, I thought, why not go all out, why not make Carnitas?

I have made Carnitas at home before on the stovetop but I found the results to be a bit dry for my taste and the process rather time consuming. Likely this is mostly due to my inexperience with braising. Semi-vegetarians aren't usually the best cookers of meat, go figure :-P. Anyway, I had been thinking for some time about trying my hand at making Carnitas in my slow cooker, an appliance that is often banished to the back shelf but always yields amazing food when used, and decided that it was about time to give it a whirl.

Carnitas, or ‘little meats’ is a type of braised pork used in Mexican cuisine. Traditionally, the heavily marbled ‘Boston Butt’ cuts of pork are used for the dish, and never having seen this portion of the pig before, I wasn’t sure what to expect. Whole Foods didn’t feature Boston Butt in their meat case (oh how appropriate is that name!), but the butcher kindly brought the 2lbs that I asked for from the back. I was now the proud (and slightly squeamish) owner of a large roughly cylindrical hunk of pork, richly marbled, and covered in a thick layer of more fat.

When you make this dish, you must resist the urge to give in to lipid phobia and trim off all of the extra fat. That lovely white stuff is what will help give the dish it's wonderful moist texture. Don't be afraid, just close your eyes and think of England....

Cut the pork into 1-inch cubes and place in a bowl (or directly into the slow cooker). In another small bowl mix your seasonings. I used about 2tsp smoked paprika, 2tsp cumin, 2tsp smoked salt, 1tsp coriander, 1 1/2 tsp dried mexican oregano, and a couple pinches of dried ground chipotle pepper. You can add more to taste later if you like.

Toss the pork pieces with the seasoning mix, make sure they are well coated.

Transfer the pork to your slow cooker (if you haven't already). Quarter 1 onion, take the layers apart, and place on top of the meat.

Turn the slow cooker to low heat and forget about it for about 6hrs or until the meat is tender enough to shred.

Warm some corn tortillas in the oven, add the carnitas, guacamole, sour cream, and salsa, or whatever fixings you like, and dig in.

So how did it turn out? Oh dear god, I haven’t the words. The meat cooked down to a velvety softness and was literally drowning in its own rich liqueur of fat and spices. That, combined with the tartness of salsa, the creaminess of avocado and sour cream, and the mild roughness of the corn tortilla, created a sincornicity of flavor and texture that was beyond compare. My hands were literally shaking as I ate, no devoured, four portions one after the other. I lost all sense of self, I was no longer human, I was a gluttonous ravening beast, and I believe I made noises that were probably terribly inappropriate. I licked my fingers and then, dear readers, I gleefully and unashamedly licked the plate. If that isn’t a reason for cooking at home then I don’t know what is. Ah the joy of savoring every last morsel of a tasty dish without worrying about what the other diners might think….

If you attempt this dish at home, please make sure that you have turned the oven off and that there are no open flames in the house before you take your first bite. You may lose consciousness from sheer pleasure and I wouldn’t want your house to accidentally burn down during that blissful interval.

A side note; after Jeff and I had both gorged ourselves, there was about a cup of pork and liquid left, so I decided to use it in a makeshift soup the next night. I added about half a bag of frozen roasted corn from Trader Joe's, a 14oz can of crushed tomatoes, a 1/2 cup of water, and a couple more pinches of salt, then let it simmer for a bit. Top with some sour cream, dip in any leftover corn tortillas, and you have yourself another delicious meal. So yes, that 2lb piece of pork was well appreciated, and even if I cant feel entirely guiltless, I can at least say that I didn't take this pig for granted.....I also learned that I need to use my slow cooker more often!

Cooking From Scratch: Key Lime Pie Part IV

Finally, the moment you've all been waiting for, the dramatic conclusion of my Key Lime Pie from scratch project. Hopefully you haven't fallen asleep and stopped following the process long ago.

I decided to use Nigella Lawson's recipe for the filling, as I have been successful with it in the past.

You will need:

5 Eggs

1/2 Cup plus 2 tbs Key Lime Juice

14oz of Condensed Milk

Separate your eggs so that you have five egg yolks in one bowl, and three egg whites in a second bowl (I saved the remaining two egg whites for later use in an omelet). Two of the eggs I used were from a friend who raises his own chickens. You can easily see the color difference in the photograph-the yolks were a deep orange.

Beat the egg yolks until thick.

Add the condensed milk (I used the condensed milk that I made from scratch in part I of this recipe)

Add the key lime juice.

In your second bowl, beat the egg whites until they form soft peaks, then gently fold them into the egg mixture in the first bowl.

Pour into the crust (see part III of this recipe) and bake at 325 degrees for 25min or until the filling is firm.

Behold, the finished product at long last! The farm raised eggs that I used gave the pie a very bright yellow color. Im happy to say that it was absolutely delicious; the perfect balance of tart, sweet, and bitter, and the crumbly, buttery crust nicely set off the creamy citrus filling. My dinner guests devoured almost the entire pie in one sitting...it wasn't pretty, Im not even sure what happened. One minute I was cutting the pie, and the next we were all slumped over in our chairs with happy yellow grins on our faces. Seems strange to put so much work into something that can disappear forever in just a moment. Its rather Buddhist actually....so uh yeah, eat your dessert, it will make you more spiritual

Cooking from Scratch: Key Lime Pie Part III

This has been a crazy week so I have been a bit behind in posting the remainder of the Key Lime Pie recipe, but here it is, part III- The Crust!

Most of the recipes I came across seemed to indicate that making graham cracker crust 'from scratch' required little more than crushing up some Nabisco Graham Crackers and mixing them with butter. Read the ingredient list on the back of the box, and you know instantly that this method couldn't take you further away from basic ingredients. Thus, I was delighted to come across a recipe on Mike's Table, that basically builds the crust from the ground up by producing a graham cracker dough.

http://mikes-table.themulligans.org/2008/06/18/graham-cracker-pie-crust/

You will need:

2 Sticks of butter (softened at room temp for about an hour)

1/4 Cup Brown Sugar

1/4 Cup Cane Sugar

2 Cups All Purpose Flour

1/2 Cup Whole Wheat Flour

1 Tsp Salt

Mike also suggests adding a 1/2 tsp of cinnamon, but since I would be using this crust for a citrus pie, I thought the flavor of the spice might clash and I left it out.

In a large bowl, mix the two flours and the salt

In another bowl, cream the butter with the two sugars. Once the ingredients are well mixed, stir in the honey. You can do this with an electric mixer, but I found it to be just as easy to use a spoon.

Mix 1/2 of the dry mixture into the butter/sugar and once that is fully incorporated, mix in the second 1/2. This will come together into a soft but slightly crumbly dough (just like your average cookie dough)

Form the dough into a disc, wrap it in plastic, and let it rest in the fridge for about an hour.

Mike's table describes an ingenious method of rolling out the dough and transporting it to the pie plate without it crumbling, but I was lazy and simply rolled it out, then pressed pieces of it into the pie plate. The result wasn't pretty or even, but I figured it wouldn't matter much in the end. Next time I think I'll try it Mike's way though, it seems more dignified.

This recipe makes enough dough for two pies so I used 1/2 for the pie plate and cut the other half into squares to make actual graham crackers.

Whether you are baking a crust or crackers, make sure you prick both all over with a fork, so that the steam from the butter doesn't make the dough buckle and crack. Bake at 325 for about 18min. I put the pie plate and cookie sheet with the crackers on it side by side in the oven and both turned out great.

No, this is not the graham cracker that you grew up with. It is more of a whole-wheat shortbread. Very crunchy, very buttery, and the honey gives it an extraordinary flavor. Its a lot of work but I cant imagine going back to those dried out slabs of cardboard at the grocery store after this. I wonder what smores would be like made with these? Maybe I'll have an answer for you on that this summer!

Cooking From Scratch: Key Lime Pie Part II

Key Lime Pie part II: The Limes

Most of the time, when people think of limes, they imagine those dark green fruits, roughly the size of a chicken egg, that you can find in the produce section of just about any grocery store in the country. These are called Persian limes, and if you have ever had a Key Lime pie made with the juice from one of these, Im sorry to tell you, it wasn't the real deal. Key Limes, also known as West Indian Limes or Tahitian Limes, are smaller, rounder, have thinner rinds, a stronger scent, and are yellow when ripe. You can see the difference in size and appearance in the photograph above. They are native to South East Asia, but long ago their cultivation spread to the United States, where they flourished in South Florida, particularly the Florida Keys.

Most recipes for Key Lime Pie call for about a 1/2 cup of juice and 12 limes will yield just over this amount. Warning, these little guys are not easy to find in the North East outside of a bottle. I am lucky enough to live near a store that specializes in exotic produce, otherwise this project would never have taken off.

Slice and juice the limes. This is obviously quite tedious work because the limes are so small. If you have an electric juicer, use it, or be ready for sore wrists and hands.

I felt terrible about throwing out all of the spent rinds, but couldn't decide what to do with them. Perhaps next time I will try candying the peels to use as a garnish on the finished pie. For now, I'll just have to be wasteful.

Ah precious liquid! Seems like such a small amount after all that work. I really wouldn't recommend obtaining your juice this way unless you are a glutton for punishment, or are intrigued by the novelty of it.

Stay tuned for part III: Making the crust and putting it all together.

Cooking From Scratch: Key Lime Pie Part I

So I have this weird obsession with making as much of my food from scratch as possible, and by scratch I mean, trying to get as close to primary ingredients as sanity, time, and finances allow. Yes, I want to be green, yes I want to avoid processed foods for my own health, but its more than that. There’s something about transforming raw, base materials into a refined end product that satisfies my compulsive need for order. Its rather like being an alchemist or a shaman, and for me, making such a meal elevates cooking from a mundane task to something rather like a ritual act. In other words, crazy as it is, I find the hard work extremely fun. :-P

At the end of this week a group of my friends are coming over for a potluck dinner. The past couple sunny days and record high temperatures have left me craving the classic refreshing tastes of summer (yes, yes I know its rather premature) so I have decided to make a Key Lime Pie for the dinner. Normally I can throw one of these together in record time. In its simplest form, its just about the easiest pie to make. Premade graham cracker crust+ can of condensed milk+ sugar+ eggs+ bottled key lime juice. Mix, Pour, bake, voila.

But what if….you made your own condensed milk and graham crust from scratch and used the juice of actual fresh key limes? Very quickly, this simple dessert becomes a labor of love.

Today I decided to try my hand at the condensed milk. Condensed milk is cow’s milk from which much of the water has been removed and a large percentage of sugar added. This technique was originally used in pre-fridgeration days to extend milk’s shelf life, as the decreased water and high sugar content prevent microorganism growth. Now days it is used primarily for desserts: thai iced tea, candy, tres leche cake, and of course Key Lime Pie.

Most of the recipes that I found online called for a mixture of butter, dehydrated milk, boiling water, and sugar, but this seemed rather counter intuitive to me…why buy dry milk, which I have no other use for, just in order to add water BACK into it? Finally I found a recipe that basically calls for adding sugar and vanilla to milk and then slowly reducing it

Start with 4 Cups of Whole Milk, 2 Cups of Cane Sugar, and 1/2 of a Vanilla Bean

Pour the milk into a medium sized pot and stir in the sugar.

Cut the vanilla bean length-wise and scrape out the seeds with a knife.

Add the vanilla; seeds, pod, and all to the pot.

Bring the mixture to a simmer, stirring constantly until the sugar melts. Continue simmering for just over an hour, stirring occasionally so the milk doesn’t coagulate on the bottom of the pot. You don’t need to watch this constantly, but definitely keep somewhat of an eye on it, as it is prone to foaming over.

The milk will turn a rich caramel color and thicken noticeably until it coats the back of a spoon. Fish out the vanilla pod and let the condensed milk cool. You can now store this in the fridge for several weeks.

This is the first time I have tasted homemade condensed milk and it is surprisingly delicious; very similar to the store bought canned version but less cloyingly sweet and with more of a caramelized flavor. Most Key Lime Pie recipes call for a 14oz can of condensed milk, so I should have more than enough. Stay tuned for Part II