The Bitten Word

Roasted Short Ribs With Cauliflower And Celery

Bon Appétit (February 2016)

There's something Nigella Lawson said once on her cooking show, and now, even a decade after we first heard her say it, it pops into our head from time to time.

We forget now what she was actually making that day, but it was some long-cooking thing like a braise or a stew. And Nigella said, in that gorgeous syrupy accent of hers, that quick dinners are great, but "there are other times when you really want to inhabit your kitchen."

We've always loved that idea. When you're not rushing to get a meal on the table for a midweek dinner, cooking can be an incredibly pleasant thing. When you have an opportunity to slow down and take your time, an afternoon in the kitchen can be lovely. You can truly inhabit your kitchen.

The current issue of Bon Appétit has a feature devoted to the joys of slow-cooking on a Sunday, called "On the Seventh Day, We Cook." There's a dish of Braised Duck Legs with Polenta and Wilted Chard and a Kimchi-Braised Chicken with Bacon that we'd love to try.

This past Sunday, a damp, dreary cold day that was perfect for inhabiting our kitchen, we set about making these Roasted Short Ribs With Cauliflower And Celery.

On Grandfathers and Egg Custard Pies

Last week, my grandfather Tot passed away.

We wrote about Tot and his passion for Egg Custard Pies years ago here on the blog, so I wanted to share the news with you Bittens. I don't share the news of his passing in sadness; my grandfather lived a happy life, marked with laughter and bringing joy to hundreds of others. He loved his community deeply, and did wonderful acts of kindness, big and small, for those he came across in his life. 

I've never spoken about this here on The Bitten Word, but I have a somewhat complicated relationship with my family. Without going into all of it right now, I'll sum it up by saying that we speak very infrequently, and it's a source of great sadness for me. But my grandfather, especially in his final years, showed me great kindness, and was welcoming in ways that surprised me. I'll always remember him and be thankful to him for that.  

And in my memories, he loved to eat. He had strong opinions about where to buy the best country hams. He loved making mutton. He was the only Kentuckian I know who actually made burgoo at home. And he cranked out hundreds of these Egg Custard Pies during his life, giving them to friends and serving them to guests as a way to show his love for them. 

We've been thinking a lot about Tot, and Egg Custard Pie, over the last few days.  We plan to make a few and give them to friends. If you're in a pie making mood, we'd love for you to do the same. And if you keep the pie for yourself, as Tot often did, just think about something nice you'd like to do for someone this spring. Tot would love it. 

~ Clay 

Better Peas and Carrots

Cook's Country (February/March 2016)  

Bittens, we are overwhelmed.

Since we wrote about feeling a little stuck last week, you've sent some truly amazing emails and comments. You've told us what you like about this blog, and (aw, shucks) what you like about us. We got choked up reading through all your notes and kind words. It was humbling.

You reminded us that we really have created a great community of people who like to cook, who like to eat and -- most importantly -- who just like each other. It's like we just go together, Bittens.

We go together like peanut butter and jelly. 

We go together like peanut butter and chocolate. (Okay, yeah, maybe we just love peanut butter.)

We go together like rama-lama-lama, ka-dinga-da ding di dong. (Something that's been incessantly stuck in our brains since we watched Grease: Live two and a half weeks ago.)

We go together like peas and carrots.

Now how's that for a segue?

Do We Still Care About Food?

 

 

Do we still care about food? 

 

That's the question we're pondering as we conclude the eighth year of The Bitten Word and look toward the ninth. When we reflected on year seven, we shared that we've questioned when we might end The Bitten Word. That question remains on our minds as we think about the year ahead. So pardon us while we do a bit of navel gazing and reflect on where we are both in our relationship with food but also with this blog. 

 

We don't ask this question -- do we still care about food? -- facetiously. Of course as humans who must eat, we do. But we also recognize that we care about food these days in ways far different than we did eight years ago, when we were fumbling our way through the kitchen and trying to figure out how to put a decent meal on the table. And really, the way we're thinking about food manifests in what we choose to eat and cook, and then share with you here on the blog. So here are some things on our minds about our relationship with food. 

 

We're finding that the raison d'etre of this blog -- to put our food magazines to use -- no longer holds the same sway for us that it once did. We've spent 8 years hanging on every word of the country's best food magazines. That has been an incredible education, and has taught us to be far more confident and creative cooks, but it also isn't as inspiring as it once was. It's not the fault of the magazines. We actually think the quality of today's food magazines is just as high (if not higher) than 8 years ago. Rather, we feel less inspired. We are, frankly, a little bored with the concept that has made this blog so successful. We often find ourselves reading magazines and struggling to come up with a list of recipes we want to cook. Those that we're most drawn to are incredibly similar to other dishes we've made; others look amazing but are things that we don't really need to be eating (more on that below). We still find inspiration -- it's just that we have to look harder for it. 

 

Part of that is the food that we want to cook these days. A friend who reviewed our favorite dishes of 2015 said, "Wow, you guys really cut out the carbs this year." That is, in fact, true. When we're cooking at home, we're largely cooking high protein, low carb, and vegetable heavy meals. As we creep toward [gasp!] middle age, we're more and more conscious of our overall health. Hard truths in this realm: We are vain. We see a personal trainer. We want to pretend we still have the metabolism of 25 year olds. We are thinner now than we've been in years. And we're happy about that. Sure, we still bake occasionally and when we travel or go out to restaurants we (wildly, madly) indulge, but we have much more of a focus on moderation than ever before. 

 

But we are still obsessed with cooking, and we cook the vast majority of food we eat in a given week. On average, we eat maybe 2 to 4 meals a week that don't come from our kitchen. That's a lot of meals cooked at home. And we still very much enjoy the act of cooking, and of cooking for others. (Dishes, on the other hand, we would gladly never do again.)

 

And then there's The Bitten Word itself. We still love the creative act of writing. And we love trying new recipes. And it's fun to put together a compelling photo to go with a story. But we find that our time do so is increasingly limited. We both have careers that keep us very busy, and we're each traveling quite a bit for our day jobs. There are a thousand things we would like to do with this site if we had more time. We have loads of ideas. And not executing on those ideas feels like a bit of a failure, even though (as we constantly have to remind ourselves) this is a hobby. 

 

And then there's you, dear reader. Getting to know you, hearing from you, smiling at your comments, and seeing photos of what you're cooking have been the biggest, most unexpected surprise of the past eight years. We love hearing from you, and we're not quite ready to give that up yet. So stick around, okay?

 

So where does this leave us? Well, first, we're not going anywhere. We're going to continue to feel our way through this. But we are searching for something -- a tweak on this blog's concept? A new direction altogether? Inspiration? A sign? 

 

We share this with you because we ant you to be a part of the future of The Bitten Word. 

So what shall we do together in Year 9?

 

 

~ Clay & Zach

 

 

 

The Chocolate Cake That Cures Everything

We're sharing this chocolate cake with you today not to cure something, but to celebrate something.

This week marks the beginning of the ninth (ninth!) year of The Bitten Word.

It's our blogiversary, y'all! 

We're celebrating eight full years of The Bitten Word in two ways this week, beginning with chocolate cake. Later in the week, we'll share some reflections on the past eight years. Last year's reflections are a doozy, and this year's are shaping up to be something you won't want to miss. 

But first: cake.

When we heard a historic snowfall was on its way a couple weeks ago, we rushed to the supermarket, not for bread and milk, but for cake ingredients. If we were going to be trapped inside, we were going to be trapped inside with a massive chocolate cake. 

This "Chocolate Cake That Cures Everything" was among the recipes we most wanted to make from Ruth Reichl's My Kitchen Year. She promised that it made a massive cake.

And she wasn't kidding. 

Remembering Gourmet: Ruth Reichl's "My Kitchen Year"

We don't recommend a lot of cookbooks these days. It's not that we don't love them. (We do, as our cluttered bookshelves attest!)

It's just that we haven't been reading as many of them lately. And when we do, we don't usually buy them, opting instead to sample them from the library. That way, when we do purchase a cookbook, we have a good idea it's one we'll actually use. 

Recently we sat down with our first cookbook in quite a while: Ruth Reichl's My Kitchen Year. As two fans who still miss Gourmet, we found that the book brought back so many feelings -- happy and sad -- about the shuttering of Gourmet magazine, which Reichl edited from 1999 until it ceased publication in 2009. 

My Kitchen Year tracks a year of cooking by Reichl following the magazine's sudden, devastating closure. We felt a great sense of loss when this happened in 2009, but we know our loss as fans was nothing compared to what Reichl and her staff were experiencing. This book takes you into Reichl's life at the time, as she mourns the loss of the magazine and then hits to the road to promote a just-released cookbook by the magazine.

Over the course of Reichl's year, we travel along with her to places across the country, but most of the time is spent in her rural home kitchen in New York's Hudson Valley, as she cooks her way through a difficult time and contemplates the future. Some food-world people we love show up (Calvin Trillin comes to Thanksgiving, bringing spiced matzo and frozen dumplings from Chinatown. #SquadGoals!). As Reichl cooks and fumes and heals, the book provides an honest and beautiful example of food's ability to comfort and heal. In sharing her year, Reichl slows the value of diving deep into something in a time of despair. In this case, it results in a true celebration of home cooking.

The recipes themselves are chatty and informative. A lot of the food is pure comfort (chocolate cake, fried chicken, carbonara) but also great meal options for entertaining (we especially enjoyed the piece on making burgers for guests). The book is punctuated by Reichl's tweets from 2009 and 2010, adding more context into what she was eating and thinking at the time. And the photography is simple and intimate. 

My Kitchen Year is a beautiful book. If you loved Gourmet, we think you'll find great comfort and memories in the book. If Reichl is new to you, follow her @ruthreichl. And by all means, if you haven't already read her autobiographical trilogy -- Tender at the Bone, Comfort Me with Apples, and (our favorite) Garlic and Sapphires -- do so immediately; they're among our all-time favorite food books. 

Have any of you read My Kitchen Year? Please share your thoughts with us in the comments!

 

White Chicken Chili

Food Network Magazine (January/February 2016)

Hey, maybe you heard we had a little snow last weekend here in DC. With windy, violent snowfall of between 24 and 36 inches over a 36-hour period, it was no weather for being outside.

In fact, it was the perfect weather for being inside, with this White Chicken Chili.

Growing up, we both had a chicken chili from time to time. But the dish always seemed to make an appearance in snowy weather. In Zach's house, especially, the hint of snow was treated as a call to arms for his mom to start cooking certain comfort foods -- cinnamon rolls, hot cocoa, chicken-and-dumplings. And, often, a white chicken chili.

White chili is a great alternative to traditional red-beans-and-beef-and-tomato chili. It's lighter, with a brighter heat. It's a "zing!" to red chili's "blam!"

This particular recipe from Food Network Magazine is a good basic blueprint, but it could use some upgrades if it's going to become a winter classic in your kitchen. Here's what we recommend.