At Wong Vivant, Michelle made a gorgeously green lasagna, with Swiss chard, ricotta, mozzarella, parmesan and bechamel sauce, and her own pesto made from radish greens, arugula and walnuts. The radishes themselves she’d save for salads with most of the fresh, young arugula she’d bought. Michelle admitted she’d stocked up on more than she normally does at her farmers’ market in DC, but it was just that time of year when she’d begun to see more than just crates of apples. Major props to her for using those radish greens, and in such a delicious-sounding way.

photo courtesy of Wong Vivant

At Come Help Me Eat This, Jessica also made an unconventional pesto… with carrot tops! But that’s just the beginning; she also found asparagus and fiddlehead ferns and deep-fried them in batter, and made lamb and beet-studded burgers with mint, and served them with farmstead goat cheese, arugula and said pesto on a local bakery’s bun. But not only is lamb “springlike,” Jessica talks about how lamb tend to be more sustainably-raised than beef, and uses it in a comparable ratio to vegetables in the finished meal.

photo courtesy of Come Help Me Eat This

At Herbie Likes Spaghetti, Bryan, YiRan and Herbie went for the dessert category with a sustainably-sourced sundae. They made their own ricotta gelato, which in itself is quite an achievement, then went onto serving it with a local apple compote and buttery brioche toast. But the best part about the recipe post for me might just be reading about their burgeoning fascination with shopping at the farmers’ market — for the quality of the foods they find, and an appreciation for the thoughtful, hardworking farmers.

photo courtesy of Herbie Likes Spaghetti

Dave of Dave’s Kitchen clearly concentrated on what’s most sustainable, most springlike, as well. In the end, he came up with batter-fried fiddleheads, served with homemade aioli with fresh chives. No, I have never heard of frying fiddleheads in batter before either, and yet two contestants here made delicious examples of it. Great minds… Anyway, Dave gives tips on how to make a thin batter and dip the fiddleheads in order for their curlicue shape to remain visible after frying; he also says of making the aioli, “Making it was so easy I’ll think twice before picking up that next jar of flat-flavored mechanical mayo from the grocery store.”

photo courtesy of Dave’s Kitchen

So, who won the contest? First, what did they win? The prizes for this contest were offered up by Ger-Nis Herb and Culinary Center in Brooklyn, where I’ll be teaching a class. Only, the class that I had originally offered as one of the prizes for the winner (the second being a $50 gift certificate to any class there) no longer exists! Sorry to say, but “Food Blogging 101″ had to be cancelled on the center’s calendar. Regardless, I’ll be teaching a vegetarian dumpling workshop later on in July, using fresh summer veggies. And the winner of the Sustainable Spring contest will receive two $50 gift certificates to any classes at Ger-Nis, instead.

Finally, I didn’t judge the contestants’ blog posts above; that arduous task when to Nissa and Tina, organizers at Ger-Nis. They loved them all, but had to come up with a winner. And first place went to…

Dave! He gets vouchers for two classes of up to $50 in value, so he can go on to mastering other odd greens, hopefully.

But there’s a second place, too. Nissa and Tina just had to give another $50 class gift certificate to Jessica at Come Help Me Eat This for her smorgasbord of spring. I’m sure it’ll be well spent, too.

Thanks to the other entries, and hope you have a much better time finding (sustainable) spring ingredients from now ’til summer. I think you’ve all just inspired me to go make a lasagna with fiddleheads and lamb, and finish it with ice cream. Good day!

It’s a contest devised by Nissa and Tina at Ger-Nis Culinary & Herb Center and myself, and the prize is a couple classes at the center. (Perhaps polishing up on your skills plays into your vision of spring?) We thought it would be the perfect opportunity for a blogger to win a seat at my upcoming food blogging class on April 21st. In addition to that class, the winner will receive a gift certificate of $50 towards any other class at Ger-Nis. I’ve taken a class at this center, taught by chef Jacques of Palo Santo, and can vouch for its having been a delightful time. Also, I’m very excited to share with you a full night’s curriculum of food blogging skills at my class, and have some surprises in store.

The rundown: Your task, should you choose to accept it, is to come up with a blog post with a recipe that tackles the theme, “Sustainable Spring.” The recipe should incorporate ingredients that were thoughtfully sourced with sustainable practices in mind, and are currently in season in your region. Please mention somewhere in your post the contest, and its prizes of classes at Ger-Nis. There are no strict guidelines to your post, but this is what Nissa and Tina will be looking for, as your judges.

The deadline to post this recipe on your blog is next Thursday, March 31st. Please write an email to me at cathy [at] noteatingoutinny.com to let me know that you did, and include a link to it. The winner, as determined by our esteemed judges, will be announced the following day, along with a round-up of the rest of the submissions.

I know it might be a tricky week for local produce in NYC, as we’re all holding our breath for big spring players like the ramps pictured above (from last year) to appear. But it should be an interesting one, and a fun challenge. I’ve been eating spinach that had wintered over in my garden lately, for instance. Good luck, and can’t wait to see what you all make of things!

Contest: Sustainable Spring
1st Place Winner’s Prize: 1 ticket to Food Blogging class on April 21, and a $50 gift certificate for any class at Ger-Nis Culinary & Herb Center (combined, a value of $125). Sorry, no exchanges.
Deadline to Enter: March 31st
How to Enter: Publish a blog post with a sustainable, spring-themed recipe and send your link to me at cathy [at] noteatingoutinny.com

Which led them to renovate a warehouse as the Brooklyn Kitchen Labs, a multi-faceted culinary workshop at 100 Frost Street., a few blocks away. Its grand opening is Monday, November 16th. The Labs is also the home of The Meat Hook, a full-service butcher store manned by Tom Mylan, and stocked with quality cuts from Fleisher’s Grass-Fed Meats and other local, sustainable small farm sources. And instead of 700 square feet, like the Brooklyn Kitchen’s flagship Lorimer St. location, the Labs is 7,000 square feet and two floors of cooking classroom and retail space. Expect lots of classes and events to fill their calendar — perhaps more than one at the same time — and lots of room to mingle with other foodies and home cooks.

The Brooklyn Kitchen Labs under construction (floor’s now finished!)

Cooking classes are bubbling over in this city, that’s for sure. One of my favorite adventures in not eating out has been going to them. From pig butchering with Tom Mylan to charcuterie with (now) Char 4 chef Matt Greco at the Brooklyn Kitchen, to learning easy Indian meals with Geetika Khanna at Indian Culinary Center and making some mean pies with Mark Bello at his Pizza a Casa workshop and tour, these experiences have given me a lot more than some new knife skills. I began going to these events seeking a different social atmosphere based around food, not the kind where you simply get served plates from an unseen kitchen. In the process, I made lots of friends; I also went to classes with friends, and we still got to enjoy a dinner together after we cooked.

Many small shops and businesses do lively workshops and tutorials, too, often running popular classes frequently. You can learn how to make mozzarella at Murray’s Cheese, or to mix up Greenmarket-inspired cocktails at Astor Center. Saxelby Cheesemongers is famous for their Day-A-Whey trips to dairy farms upstate. And if you’re up there anyway, check out the hands-on workshops and special events at Stone Barns Center for Food & Agriculture.

an eye-opening heritage livestock session was taught at Astor Center this summer

cookbook author Lorna Sass taught slow-cooker technique at a Slow Food Time For Lunch campaign Eat-In

Also in the nonprofit sector, the Greenmarket features cooking demos and tastings at the markets, and also chef-led tours and meals. For the more studious pupils, the 92nd Street Y hosts great food talks and tastings. WholeFoods Bowery Culinary Center has a motley mix of food classes on their calendar. Then, there are one-off events happening all the time — hear, hear: You can learn how to cut and cook fish, and taste sake with Japanese Food Report blogger, Harris Salat (December 7). You can cook Sri Lankan with guest teacher Skiz the spice wiz at Indian Culinary Center (November 20). Kids can roll up their sleeves, too, at educational workshops like those given by Growing Chefs. Restaurants like Camaje often invite students into their kitchens, and wine stores like Bottlerocket, intensive palate-sharpening sessions. I’m sure there’s plenty more places to take a friendly class or two, but I think you get what I mean — and would be surprised at how many of your favorite businesses, organizations or farms run programs like these (I taught one this summer at Garden of Eve).

scene from a crazy class I took with the bloggers of Ideas in Food

The proliferation of amateur cooking  and food-related classes in NYC seems to reveal a generation of foodies who enjoy dining out as much as they love crafting the perfect dinner themselves. Hungry to sharpen their kitchen skills and also have fun, these home cooks (and hopeful would-bes) have heightened demand for casual, one-class only cooking sessions. More homey and relaxed than a traditional classroom, this new school of food instruction is certainly no place to worry about being called on in class, or even bringing a notepad and pen. Gum? I think chewing — on anything — is perfectly cool. And compared to courses at “real” culinary institutes like the FCI or ICE, they cost a heck of a lot less; under $100 for a one-night class is to be expected.

There’s more to it than cost, I think. Working in less professional settings, with personable instructors rather than stodgy professors or chefs, lends the cooking a more approachable feel. As Harry Rosenblum said, explaining the layout of one room on a sneak preview tour of the Labs, “I’d like there to be no barrier between the kitchen and the class.” In some cases, like with Pizza a Casa, the instructors teach the classes in their own homes.

Some classes might teeter toward sit-down classroom style, or focus on food-related topics more so than hands-on technique. Some might be too beginner for your chops, too. That’s why having so many options is a boon for us curious home cooks, and makes food classes a truly viable, and practical alternative to eating out. Imagine, instead of a menu of dishes being placed before you, or a tired hit list of restaurants “you’ve got to try,” a full summary of the different food workshops happening in your neighborhood right then. That would be a menu I’d order from any night. As the famous Chinese proverb says, “Give a man a fish, feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish, feed him for life.” Apparently, you can be well fed for many lives over with the help of friendly pros like these.

Okay, and just in: Indian Culinary Center is offering two-for-one tickets to any class in November and December. So you can bring that friend or date along for free! I do not lie. This is pretty amazing, so hurry up and book it up.

What’s more wakeup-worthy than bacon and eggs? How about Italian pancetta, yolky free-range eggs, and fried sage atop a homemade crust? Followed by six other tantalizingly-topped slices of the good stuff, all freshly baked by yourself with some expert guidance? Actually, I’d say that’s a good recipe for an afternoon nap. Whichever the case, these pizzas were all delicious, and the occasion that spurred them (and that nap) is chef Mark Bello’s Pizza a Casa class.

Pizza a Casa is Mark’s artisanal pizza workshop and catering company. Partly taught on the streets of New York, partly in his casa, the five-hour class I took on Sunday was its house special signature. Though he’s cooked professionally elsewhere, Mark stays true to his homemade pizza-making roots; living in Chicago, he often turned his apartment into a “pizza-making lab” with friends late at night, after the bars. The reason being, “It was either go to a greasy spoon diner, or make pizzas at my place.” Wisely, more and more friends chose the latter, and after moving back to the Northeast, Mark now frequently turns his downtown apartment into just that for small groups of strangers, with an immediate and genuine friendliness.

while pizza stones heat to 500+ degrees, a “Pollockian”-splattered pie

That’s not to say that the pizzas are anything but purist. While I’ve made plenty of pies in my time, none matched up to the professionalism of his. For starters, there’s the light, crispy dough, then expertly synced toppings like pear and gorgonzola or an intensely savory smoked mozzarella and sundried tomato combo. I was most excited to make a recipe of his with soft, splattered eggs baked onto the crust, just as I’d swooned over in Europe, and most recently, on a Roberta’s Pizza overeating excursion. On a list of possible pizzas for the day, it was humbly called, ”Bacon and Eggs.”

“white pizza” with ricotta, mozzarella, roasted red pepper and lemon zest

a slivered red potato and rosemary pizza before baking

Another pie I tried my hand at also undersold itself with its name: the “White Pizza” had home-roasted red peppers and  refreshing ricotta cut with chunks of butter and fresh mozzarella. It’s sprinkled with lemon zest and black pepper once out of the oven, and by then its cheeses are congealed to a moist and delicate-tasting mass of white. Mark is also just as particular about his ingredients as he is about making the pies. He buys cheeses from Saxelby Cheesemongers, in addition to his favorite independent Italian cheese shops, and the ricotta I’d been blessed with was Salvatore Brooklyn’s.

everyone made a fresh mozzarella, pecorino and basil marguerite pie to start off

Mark (right) and students admire their work

Of course, we made the classic marguerite to start off the workshop. Growing up in northeast New Jersey (incidentally in the town right next to the one I did — yeah, his high school’s sports teams stank), Mark visited New York City with his family often. They’d scavenge Little Italy for their favorite homemade mozzarella, fill up on roast duck in Chinatown, and take choice cuts back home on the train. So, for the first hour of his pizza classes, Mark takes his students to some of his favorite shops, which he’s become a regular at. The first stop was Alleva Dairy, the family-owned Italian cheese shop for five generations. Their mozzarella is made fresh every day, and Mark’s been a lifelong fan.

cheese and charcuterie sampling at Alleva Dairy

While at Alleva, Mark pointed out one of his secrets. The tomato sauce we’d be using was not something to spend time on simmering, but a jar of San Marzano tomato passata. According to Mark, it’s just salty enough, non-acidic, and gently flavored with basil to serve as the pizza sauce, with a grate of fresh garlic. Easy enough for me! We also stepped into DiPalo a few doors down, another relic of Little Italy that’s been in business for nearly a century.

outside Piemonte homemade pasta shop

I don’t want to give away too many of the chef’s secrets, nor would I be able to in one post. The dough-rolling wisdom I’d gained would be enough to go on about alone. We turned out wheel after wheel of perfectly thin crusts over the next couple hours of the class, though “perfect” is not exactly the right word. There’s an Italian cooking concept called capricioso (“capriciousness”) that Mark pays respect to, which favors homemade touches over uniformity — one bite is a little crispy, another is chewy. This is the ideal texture of pizza dough, and Mark has mastered it from years of experience. When asked why none of the recipes on the list had a whole wheat crust, Mark explained that it was just a flavor preference; he didn’t think whole wheat went well with tomato sauce and cheese. But, it could pair nicely with other toppings like, say, caramelized onions or fruit. If you take a class, you’ll also take home an extensive packet of recipes, useful resources and tips, all written in Mark’s witty tone.

I am happy to spill how easy it was to produce a runny-yolked pie, however. To start, the pancetta was placed evenly atop the dough in little clumps to act as “breakers” for the eggs. I made the mistake of adding sauce just afterwards, which had not been part of Mark’s original vision (because it interferes with the pancetta crisping up), but only a little bit. Before baking, a shower of grated aged pecorino went onto nearly every pie variety, to provide saltiness, and this one got it, too. Then it was into the oven to cook about a third of the way. The eggs are cracked into bowls and gently slid on top of the pie at that point; a few minutes later, it was done.

After the five hours were through, I’d made four pizzas and eaten enough slices to put me out. I still had to bike home, though, in the ninety-degree heat (we could have baked pizzas on the sidewalk it was that bad). Because they were so good, I decided that I was going to somehow bring all my leftover pizza with me, across the bridge. I have no idea where I thought I was going to put the boxes — on my head? Fortunately, as I was grappling with this scenario on the street, I ran into an old friend who was on his way to a park, and thrust the pies upon him instead. He gladly accepted, and wrote later to say how yummy they were. “I’m sure anything made by you is good,” he’d said. My compliments, of course, to the real chef.

Sign up for Mark’s pizza workshops and tours, or catch one of his classes at WholeFoods, Astor Wine Center, and elsewhere at Pizza a Casa’s website.

Mark Bello’s Pancetta, Egg and Fried Sage Pizza
(makes 1 approximately 12″ pie and 3 extra balls of dough for more pies)

What you’ll need:
a pizza stone, preheated for half an hour at 500 degrees
a wooden pizza peel (not necessary, but makes quick sliding in and out of the oven easier)
semolina flour (to sprinkle on the bottom of the peel, for easy sliding and crisp bottom crust texture; can be substituted with all-purpose flour)

for the fast-rise dough:
1 packet (2 1/4 teaspoons) active dry yeast
3 1/2 firmly packed cups all-purpose flour
1 1/2 cups warm water
1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil
1 tablespoon Kosher or sea salt
two pinches sugar (optional, to encourage a fast rise)

toppings:
about 1/4 lb pancetta, thinly sliced and torn into strips
about 1/4 cup grated aged pecorino
3 eggs
handful sage leaves
1/2 cup olive oil (to fry the sage)

Combine the yeast with the warm water and stir to break up lumps. Let sit for 5-10 minutes or until yeast starts to become foamy and separate. Combine the flour, salt and oil. Fold in the proofed yeast mixture until the dough just comes together and turn it onto a well-floured surface. Knead for at least five minutes. Divide dough into 4 even-sized balls and pinch any folds shut for a seamless surface. Let sit at room temperature in a tighly sealed container to rise for 45 minutes.

Preheat the oven with the pizza stone inside at 500-550 degrees (as high as it will go). Place dough onto a well-floured surface. Press around the edges until you have a roughly 5″ round. Pick up and carefully stretch out the dough with your hands until it’s roughly 12 to 14″ in diameter. Dust surface of pizza peel with optional semolina flour and carefully place the dough round on top.

Arrange the pancetta pieces evenly throughout the pizza. Sprinkle the grated pecorino on top all the way to the edges of the crust. Quickly open the oven to slide pizza onto the stone and shut (to retain heat). Meanwhile, heat the olive oil in a small saucepan until it begins to crackle. Add the sage leaves and cook about one minute, turning once. Remove from oil and let cool on paper towels. Crack the eggs into three separate bowls.

Once pizza has been in the oven for about four minutes, quickly open the door, slide the rack out, and pour the eggs on top of the pizza one at a time. Carefully push the rack back in and close door as quickly as possible. After 2-3 more minutes, check on the pizza. If the whites are all cooked through, remove pie from oven with the peel and slide onto a tray. Top the pizza with the sage leaves, a drizzle of olive oil, and an optional grate of black pepper.

Cost Calculator, Health Factor and Green Factor ratings respectfully omitted for guest recipes

Chef Geetika Khanna did not have to make the best tomato curry-drenched lamb and turkey meatballs at the Curry Takedown to make me sign up for a class of hers. She didn’t even have to introduce herself to me at the event, proving to be as friendly a culinary expert as the rarity goes (in this world of Gordon Ramsays). When a class called “Simple, Healthful and Economical Weeknight Indian Meals” appeared on the calendar for the Indian Culinary Center, I was sold. And actually, she didn’t even need me to be sold on it, either; a full class of students, including some who were turned down after the seats were filled, were eager to learn these lessons.

I may have some experience under my belt in most of those adjectives in the class’s name, but Indian food is something that I’ve always wanted to learn more about. Begun in February, the ICC is Geetika’s school of intimate, hands-on cooking classes on the broad spectrum of just that. They’re held in the kitchen of a beautiful inn, which had previously served as the New School’s cooking classroom, before they cancelled the program. As a former chef and graduate of the French Culinary Institute, Geetika focuses on how to cook at home rather than cook like a pro, sharing her homespun know-how in the cuisine of her heritage. Interestingly, I was one of only three non-Indian Americans in the twelve-person class that night. Mostly young professionals, many of these students had grown up eating the same dishes and spices we were cooking that night, but admitted to never trying to cook any of it themselves. Or to cooking anything at home, for that matter. Geetika says she’ll have to fill up the August calendar with these weeknight-friendly and similar themed cooking classes, since they’ve been so popular. Get in on them before they get too hot.

Geetika toasts cumin seeds to start off the class

a household essential: a tin of spices

To start off, Geetika introduced us to some must-have spices. Best when they are toasted and ground oneself, either to use immediately or to store in jars, there are about five spices one needs to keep at bay to produce really simple Indian meals. The first she introduced us to was cumin. Short, needle-shaped seeds, these were toasted up in a heavy-bottomed skillet before getting crushed in a spice grinder (aka small coffee grinder) to a powder. Geetika produced a metal canister that held seven tins of spices, and explained that this was a staple among Indian households, much like a sewing kit. Along with the cumin seeds were turmeric, coriander seeds, black mustard seeds, cayenne and a freshly ground batch of toasted cumin seeds. When cooking most dishes, the black mustard seeds can be swapped in for yellow or green mustard seeds; it’s more of an aesthetic choice than for flavor, Geetika explained.

“There are very few things you should never do in the kitchen,” she said. “This is a free country.” She went on right then to assert her disgust for pasteurized, not fresh-squeezed lemon or lime juice that comes in a citrus-shaped squeeze bottle, one of the few don’ts in question. She also explained that cayenne is not actually an Indian type of chile pepper, but a North and South American one. After enduring some backlash from buddies on it, Geetika stuck to her guns and still uses cayenne just because she likes its flavor. “It’s so fruity and multi-dimensional,” she said of the deep red, talcum-fine powder that was passed around in a bowl to the class.

This spice was tossed into the batter for the first recipe we made that night, the chickpea flour pancakes. So simple, healthful and economic, I decided I had to post its recipe (and make it on a weeknight very soon). I’m a fan of savory pancakes from many countries, like the Korean-style shredded veggie-studded ones a few months back. Instead of wheat flour, these Indian pancakes are based on gram flour, or finely milled chickpeas, which instantly lend them a nutty, savory flavor. It can be found in any Indian and most Asian groceries.

spices sprinkle the gram flour

the pancake making station

cut pieces of pancakes with tomatoes, red onion and jalapenos

Almost anything can be added to the pancake batter — vegetables, bits of meat and a spice combination of your choosing. Once it’s mixed up, a hot, oiled griddle or pan cooks them in more or less the same way American breakfast pancakes are. We each took turns at the stove making these pre-dinner snacks.

The classes at Indian Culinary Center are a hearty four hours long, ending with a communal meal of everything cooked. After the pancakes, we made chicken tikka, chicken tikka masala, paneer tikka (a firm, Indian cheese that was served to the class’s two vegetarians instead of chicken), a spicy Punjabi-style red bean stew (or Rajma), carrot and ginger soup, and chai-poached pears stuffed with spiced yogurt. Only the pear dessert and the soup weren’t traditionally Indian dishes, per se. But, as Geetika put it, “I am Indian, so it is.” (Can you tell yet that she is a delightfully opinionated lady?)

chicken tikka

chai poached pears with spiced yogurt stuffing

All were wonderful. In addition to learning how to make these easy Indian favorites, our class was offered some helpful tips about shopping and cooking on a budget. For instance, the chicken tikka could be made one night, and the next day served with a twist — as the saucy tikka masala dish — to save one from eating the same thing two nights in a row. All the foods we made were great for leftovers; in some cases, their flavors will blend and are even better than they were the first day, like the kidney bean stew. What’s so intimidating to many people about Indian cooking is all the spices involved, but after the brief intro to the five most essential ones, and how to toast ahead and store them (I’m getting one of those tins, ASAP), it really doesn’t seem so involved to cook with a ton of flavor each night. And since everything was so healthy, while delicious, it really makes the case for stocking up on spices instead of just slathering foods in lots of butter, bacon or salt.

I’ve already made an improvised riff on the kidney bean stew from this class, and have a newfound confidence in spice grinding and combining, which I’m sure will figure into many more foods from here on. Thanks to a few hours in the kitchen with Geetika, a packet of recipes and a perfectly delightful time with the group, Indian cooking is so much more approachable, budget- and time-friendly to me now. As well as just delicious.

Savory Chickpea Flour Pancakes
(recipe courtesy of the Indian Culinary Center)

1 1/4 cups chickpea flour (or gram flour)
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp cayenne pepper
1 small red onion, very finely chopped
1/4 cup diced tomatoes
1-inch piece of ginger, very finely chopped
4 jalapenos, seeds removed and very finely chopped
2 tablespoon fresh cilantro, chopped
3 tablespoons vegetable or canola oil

Place chickpea flour in a large mixing bowl. Add 1 cup water and stir to make a smooth batter. Add the salt, cayenne, onion, ginger, tomato, chiles, garlic and cilantro. Mix well and set aside for 15 minutes.

Place 1/2 tablespoon of oil in a skillet (preferably nonstick) over medium heat. Stir once and place about 1/3 cup batter into center of skillet. Tilt pan to spread (as if making a crepe). Cover and cook for three minutes. Turn over and cook, uncovered, for one more minute; it should be golden. Repeat with remaining batter, stirring before using. Serve hot with chutney.

Cost Calculator, Health Factor and Green Factor ratings respectfully omitted for guest recipes.

The class was held at the Garden of Happiness in the Bronx, close to the Botanical Gardens, and it was taught by Greg Anderson. Over its hour and a half duration, I soaked in some of the do’s and don’t's of chicken raising from him, as well as a good bit of sun. There was a small audience of about a dozen attendees, and most of them had never raised chickens before. The exception among them was Karen Washington, who maintains the Garden of Happiness and offered insights herself (Greg keeps his own flock of egg-playing pets in a community garden in Crown Heights, where he lives). Like the beds of vegetables and flowers in Garden of Happiness, the half-dozen or so chickens in the community garden are kept there for educational purposes — though at the end of the class Greg moseyed into the coop and produced a just-laid, pastel blue egg. And though it takes only about 52 days to grow a bird for meat from chick, according to our teachers, none of these chickens would be slaughtered for that purpose.

Greg Anderson, our instructor

One of the first things to consider when getting chicks, Greg advised, is to get at least two of them. Chickens are very social creatures, and it’s best not to do as many city dog owners and only get one, as it will become lonely. They’ll also create a social order amongst themselves (hence the euphenism, “pecking order”) that’s fascinating to observe. It’s wise to introduce a new flock of chickens to a group that’s already been living together very slowly.

Greg doesn’t use any artificial heating in his outdoor coop, even in the winter. “Chickens are very hardy,” he explained. Most breeds grow an extra layer of feathers in the winter to keep them warm, but a strong wind is something to look out for, as it will separate those feathers and give the chicken a chill. In this weather, Greg will add lining to block the wind. All told, the work required of raising chickens pays off handsomely, according to him. He and his family eat at least two eggs per day, fresh and more protein-rich than the grocery store equivalent thanks to his chickens’ healthy diet. The droppings from the coop help fertilize their plants and speeds up composting. And in turn, the chickens will gladly eat their leftover veggies and grass to supplement their feed.

outside the wire mesh-fenced chicken run

one of the “fancy” chickens breeds, kept for its beauty and preservation despite their generally smaller eggs

Although it doesn’t look I’ll be raising my own chickens in the foreseeable future, it was enlightening to see a species I’d grown up to associate with pastoral settings thriving in an unlikely setting — the city. Keeping chickens is perfectly legal in New York City (though roosters are not), so cheers to Greg, Just Food, advocates and simple practitioners all over who are sharing their wisdom about it. And in some cases, sharing their flocks’ bounty — throughout this course, I kept being reminded of Arin and Ben, who for two local cook-offs that I’ve hosted, made a dish using their own backyard chickens’ eggs (most recently at the Risotto Challenge). Who knows, maybe a home-grown food and urban livestock cook-off is almost ripe for the hosting?

Incidentally, Greg admitted he’d only come back to chicken raising over the last year. Having grown up in a household that kept chickens, he got his experience early on, but between raising kids and living in New York, had nearly forgotten about it until he turned on the TV one day and saw a Martha Stewart episode where she was handling graceful silkie chickens and their small, subtly colored eggs. “I thought, I want to do that,” Greg recalled. And so he did.

For resources, events and more information, see the City Chicken Project at Just Food

Chinese New Year is coming up, and as with every holiday save for maybe President’s Day, that means one thing to me: FOOD! Great food. Excesses of food. And the first food that comes to mind for this one is dumplings. But instead of throwing a dumpling party like I did last year, forcing my friends to roll up their sleeves in the wrapping process, the talented food writer Winnie Yang and I are going to teach a class on dumpling making at The Brooklyn Kitchen!

This class will be held the day before the lunar New Year, Sunday the 25th. Sign up now before it’s full, as class size is limited and seats are going on the cheap: just $25. Or, if you’re reading this, it gets even cheaper! Write in promo code OX09 (that’s a zero nine, as in year of the ox, ’09, baby!) at checkout and it’ll be $20 instead. And, as with all cooking classes at The Brooklyn Kitchen, attendees receive a 10% discount on anything they might want to purchase from the store afterwards.

Why should we be the ones to teach you how to make dumplings? Because we love making them almost as much as we love to eat them. There’s something very social about making dumplings, which is why it’s spawned a namesake party tradition. It’s not that much fun standing in your kitchen methodically filling and wrapping neat little dumpling after dumpling on your own (trust me). You can’t discover different folding techniques that your friends grew up with, or just invented, which I always find fascinating. You can’t exchange tricks on dough-making or get into heated disputes over what filling ingredients are best. So we’ll be there to share all that and more, like other customs of Chinese New Year, at the class.

Hope to see you there!

There’s no place like Brooklyn for the holidays. I’m sticking around this year, except for a Christmas trip over to Jersey. And if you’re also kicking it in NYC, then there’s plenty of fun to be had. Specifically, this fantastic day of food and photography that my friends at Photojojo, the Whisk & Ladle Supper Club and I are collaborating on.

This is the third Photojojo Safari to take place in New York City. I had the good fortune of attending the first one, where 100 or so amateur photographers and I followed Jake Dobkin around DUMBO checking out the street art and snapping photos of them to share at an afterparty. I met Steph Goralnick there, who is heading the NYC chapter of these events. This is what we came up with, along with Mark from Whisk & Ladle.

The party will include food demonstrations from an assortment of special guests. At the request of so many, I’m offering a pie crust lattice weaving/cut-out decorating demonstration. There will be a slideshow of food photography throughout the years, tips on lighting and other technicalities, and lots of food, wine and cocktails. Finally, there will be a “Most Photogenic” food contest, and anyone who brings in their most spectacular homemade work of edible art can come to the event free! The winner will receive a modest prize. Email me (cathy[at]noteatingoutinny.com) if you’re interested in entering — and please be willing to serve your creation (think at least 10 servings, please).

Space is limited, so please sign up at Photojojo to RSVP soon! Lights! Camera! Let’s eat!

Photojojo Food Photography Safari
Sunday, December 28th, 5pm.
$15/person, includes food and cocktails

***RSVP is required*** for this event.
Space is limited to the first 100 guests.

Secret location in Williamsburg will be revealed before the event via e-mail. photojojo.com/safaris/food

Okay, so maybe that’s a pretty big pig. Last week, I shared with you four lessons I learned in the geeky, futuristic world of high-tech food science. Perhaps I should have preceded it with this post, on a much more primitive practice: butchering. Still, it requires no less skill, experience and serious passion to hack up a hog than it does to turn sauces into silly string. I’m grateful to have learned these lessons at a sold-out pig butchering class at the Brooklyn Kitchen, under the expert guidance of Tom Mylan.

First of all, I apologize to those who don’t eat meat and may be offended by these photos. For the rest of you who will gladly tear into a chop, sliver of pork belly, or carnitas taco, I allow you no excuses. If you’re going to eat meat, consider the gore as well as the beauty of a freshly slaughtered animal. This one is a Berkshire pig, pasture-raised in upstate New York and according to Tom, a little on the small side. This observation is telling of its vast difference between most pork produced in the States — it hasn’t been cloned and engineered to weigh exactly the same as the other pigs in the farm (or rather, factory), and has unique DNA. But we’ll get into this further a little later on.

Something of a Brooklyn foodie fixture, Tom is the resident butcher for sister restaurants Diner, Marlow & Sons and Bonita, and is soon opening a butcher shop nearby. (You might also remember Tom as co-creator of the Unfancy Food Show, a fellow judge at the latest Chili Takedown, and from his blog Grocery Guy.) Unlike most restaurants, Diner, Marlow and Bonita transformed their protein procedure a couple years back by ordering only whole animals from local producers. The more organic, from-the-farm approach would benefit all parties, but also require a hard-working butcher. This is where Tom came into the picture. The latest addition to this nexus for meats, his new butcher shop is where you might purchase the leg of the same lamb whose chops are being served in one of the restaurants.

For this introduction to the basics of butchering, we began class last Tuesday by talking a bit about the heritage pig breed. Adding to the primitive nature of the class, Tom had forgotten to bring his electric saw. So throughout the evening, he broke down the carcass into familiar cuts using bare muscle, getting “all Medieval” on that enormous side. We got an explanation on each of the parts along the way. For every chunk chopped off, there was always numerous uses for it; for instance, a strip of “leaf lard” could be rendered and used to make incredible pastries. (Pork pot pies, anyone?) After the side and trotters were all pared and neatly stacked, we ended with the head. Though many cultures have methods of cooking animal heads and their various entrails, Tom thinks they taste pretty horrible altogether. (I know of one person, however, who is quite zealous about making it taste and look amazing. Check out what Winnie did with the head at a previous class.)

the class picks their take-home cuts

savory kidneys were sauteed as an after-class snack

Once the ears were trimmed off (to turn it into a dog snack for Woody, the Brooklyn Kitchen’s black lab), and the cheeks removed (which, like beef cheeks, are great for braising), the pig had been fully butchered. Myself and the eight or so classmates stood before a countertop crowded with various cuts. We each got to take home about eight pounds worth, taking turns to choose our preferred parts. This probably ranks the most valuable aspect of the class — scoring that much high-quality meat. It was a little tricky bringing the stuff back home with me on my bike, but my huge hunks of loin and shoulder are safely brining now in my fridge. I’ll be using them to make a hearty chili for the Chili Takedown at the Brooklyn Botanical Garden’s annual Chile Pepper Fiesta on Saturday… whee!

Digressions aside, there is so much to learn about the fine art of butchering that it wasn’t really my intention to come into class with the hopes of learning how to better wield a cleaver. I came to acquaint myself with an age-old tradition, in the hopes that the art of butchery became better re-acquainted with the rest of the average population. I can imagine that the opening of Tom’s butcher shop will do much to promote this, as well as the continuation of these classes, of course. So, without further ado, here are some of the highlights that I learned.

A good butcher is hard to find.

Most butchers, should you be lucky enough to have one in your neighborhood, simply don’t know what to do with a whole carcass. Most meat is cut by huge bandsaws and distributed in individual pieces to the butcher shops (or supermarkets, or restaurants) that they’re going to. But a few generations ago, this wasn’t the case — taking apart an animal was just something most people knew how to do.

To get started in his field, Tom took a month-long boot camp in butchering in the home of Josh and Jessica Applestone of Fleischer’s Meats, who supply some of the meat for the restaurants. “It was about four months too short,” Tom admits, but after being thrown into the enormous workload that the restaurants required, hacking away at whole animals, he says he reached this gestalt where, suddenly, everything makes sense, and you figure out the way animals grow muscles. Nowadays, Tom says he can’t look at a living thing without thinking about how to take it apart.

There is no one, true way to section up an animal.

There are a lot of discrepancies between even the British and American categorization of cuts. For instance, the British name a longer section of the side “pork belly” while the American standard is smaller. These are essentially two cuisines following the same rulebook when it comes to cuts, so just imagine all the cultures outside the Western world — totally different preferences, totally different customs.

This was especially intriguing to me, and I suddenly felt very unenlightened to the worldwide ways of meat butchering. I guess the beginning of that knowledge is simply knowing that this shape above is not the end-all-be-all of pork chops. “There are as many ways to cut up pigs as there are countries that have pigs,” Tom said.

99% of the pork on your plate is evil.

I know, that last word sounds a little juvenile-ishly extreme, even for a somewhat subversive blog written by someone who wouldn’t eat in restaurants for two years. But, if the GOP is going to continue tossing around such archaic profanity where it doesn’t belong, then to PURGATORY with it, and let’s just call the “other white meat” evil.

Let me explain what I mean by that: Back around the time when this very campaign was taking off, hailing pork as a low-fat protein, this claim was enabled by genetic engineering that sucked out much of the pork’s natural flavor but moreover, streamlined its production in such a way that would scare even the most fervent bacon lover. Called “white pig,” the product churned out by the industrialized meat-packing majority is made from genetically identical pigs selected for quick growth and low fat, and who have never spent a day outdoors. Many of you probably know much about this already, and if you’ve read Michael Pollan’s The Omnivore’s Dilemma, you may recall such disturbing details as pigs stacked head-to-toe in cages their entire lives, often getting distressed and biting one another’s tails off and causing infections.

On the other hand, pasture-raised pigs from conscientious farmers, such as the one Tom was butchering in class, are incomparable in flavor. The darker the meat, according to Tom, the better. As he trimmed away some of the fat from the loin, we noted that the fat had a yellowish hue. “That’s from the beta carotene, from the grass,” Tom explained. He also conceded during class that if he had to butcher normal, industrialized meats for a living instead, he would quit.

A pig’s skin makes a good bunny suit.

Okay, I couldn’t resist sharing this very minor revelation along with the slightly more relevant ones. But after we finished the butchering demonstration, we began talking about the next steps — cooking the cuts. There were plenty of hunks of loin all trussed up for roasting, coated with a hefty layer of fat. What to do with the leftover skin? someone in the class asked. The tough exterior of the animal, which could be carefully shorn off, was deliciously fatty and flavorful, and perfect for wrapping a roast of rabbit with. Rabbit meat, Tom explained, is very lean and therefore tricky to roast because it dries out easily. So one thing chefs do to solve this problem is dressing it in a pig skin suit. It adds flavor and keeps the rabbit meat moist, but more importantly, “I just like the idea of cooking a rabbit in a pig suit,” Tom said.

More butchering with Tom Mylan on the web:
StrongBuzz
Fearless Cooking

Isn’t that term just scary? Doesn’t it make all you wholesome, organic, farm-to-table types just squirm? Indeed, “food science” used to be a derogatory way of describing the process by which overly processed foods are hatched in labs. Michael Pollan may have made a mockery of the industrial food industry’s overuse of it in The Omnivore’s Dilemma, but like it or not, molecular gastronomy is everywhere right now. After being embraced by chefs like Wylie Dufresne, among many others, these studies have even trickled down to curious home cooks. One good example, and good way to roll up one’s sleeves in the craft, are the workshops led by the husband-and-wife written website Ideas in Food.

Last Thursday I indoctrinated myself to this fabulous world of fantastical cooking by attending a six-hour food science class in the home of Alex Talbot and Aki Kamozawa of Ideas in Food. Along with me for the ride were cooking pals Mark, Michael, Daniel and Andrew. Our particular class was centered around the hydrocolloids pectin and methocellulose. These gelling agents provide various ways of binding foods together, making them pliable, or otherwise changing their textures. The one we began with might sound familiar, pectin. Often used to jam and jelly mashed-up fruits, pectin is a naturally derived substance that we added to chocolate to create Alex and Aki’s recipe for “Sliced Chocolate.” We also stuck together a stack of melons with it, bound sliced zucchini into a thin sheet of attached snowflake-like circles, and made “lentils” out of droplets of hoisin sauce. Pectin: nature’s “Fruit Glue,” as Alex and Aki coin a technique of theirs.

a pliable ribbon of soft chocolate

honeydew and cantaloupe, “glued” with pectin

the zucchini slices are pre-compressed and vacuum-sealed

Alex demonstrates a Methocel-enabled “Hot Whipped Cream“

But it’s not as simple as I may have made all this sound. Alex and Aki spent many grueling months and in some cases even years figuring out just how to achieve the effects they wanted to out of the ingredients. In other cases, a surprise turn-out became the creation of something else. I was in awe listening to stories of their various trials, errors and triumphs. Both chefs originally, Alex and Aki first began experimenting with food on their own, and started a blog about it. They started holding small cooking courses, and added food science to the curriculum. Once the food science classes started filling up and the other ones dwindled in attendees, they went straight food science, and now give by-arrangement individual or group workshops. (Alex mostly did the teaching for ours, since Aki is currently carrying their first child.)

As testament to its being a constant learning process, toward the end of the class Alex presented thin sheets of dried black squid and squid ink paper. He tried deep-frying them up as thick, hefty chips that turned out sort of the texture of Munchos, only much too rigid and dense to be very satisfying. Michael suggested running the dried pieces through a food processor first, and once fried, the bits were delightful little cracklins’ of squid — a great garnish.

dried, fried squid fritters

a delicious sphere of Rum Raisin Balls

With all the close attention to exact measurements and chemical reactions, food science might sound like a rigid field of discourse, and it is. (The group of us now have a running joke where if we do anything slightly off-base in the kitchen, “Alex would not be happy.”) This was a definite crash course for me, and the guys had all taken one other class with Ideas in Food before. I’m not sure how much of everything I was taught I was able to grasp, but the pie victory sure was sweet compensation.

So I decided to boil down my observations (oh sorry, does that sound archaic? How about sous-vide?) into four somewhat random arguments for food science. I hope everyone can relate to them at home.

Cooking is all about ratios.

Your genius intuition did not just create that gorgeous Mailliard crust on that steak; it was the exact ratio of heat to sugars. When Alex said this edict at the beginning of the class, followed by “it’s not creativity,” I felt myself gasp a little. Then I realized exactly what he was saying: once you understand ratios correctly, then you can be creative by manipulating them.

It might not sound as earth-shattering to some, but re-thinking cooking as something not creative, whatsoever, was enlightening in a lot of ways. If you’re interested in flavor combinations and how they work, then thinking strictly in terms of percentages and ratios, even just for a change of pace, can do you a lot of favors. It’s not so mysterious.

Ingredients can have surprising chemical properties.

When you’re dealing with maneuvers you don’t normally perform on vegetables, fruits and meats, you begin to know them and their chemical make-ups much more intimately. Low-methoxyl pectins require the presence of calcium, which is naturally present in some fruits and vegetables. High-methoxyl pectins require a specific level of acidity. And so on. It’s great to know these things about your foods not only for future cooking purposes, but for your nutritional knowledge.

Sometimes, you have to break what already works in order to create something truly unique and remarkable.

This is coming straight from the horse’s mouth. As thoughtfully described in this post on Ideas in Food, breaking something and fixing it in new ways is a catalyst for creativity. This is how Alex and Aki came to so many of their recipes. While counter-intuitive, the method seems to work. I can relate to the thrill of doing something that I think has never been done before. By anyone. But there’s always that point, Alex warns, when you have to step back and take a look at the bigger picture, come down off that rainbow and maybe, sometimes, discover that it’s all for naught. He says that Aki is usually the one who first goes, “Hey dude, come back! Stop!”

Deception is fun.

… as long as it’s with something as light-hearted as dinner, not your date. It’s true, deceit holds illicit pleasure in many fields too, but what’s so fun about using it in the kitchen is the delight it gives unsuspecting eaters, so long as your dish still tastes good. It’s the ‘who’d have thunk’ factor — a tagliatelle not made from fresh pasta, but fresh mozzarella and ricotta? Wow, they’ll say. And it’s even the same color. How funny would that be to serve it with fresh mozzarella-shaped wedges of actual fresh pasta, too? The cook sniggers, too, in devilish delight.

There’s a thin line where it can go too far, however, and the jokes get old. Deceit can be fun for a while, but it’s bound to reach an ugly point, just like with personal relationships. Nobody likes a constant liar, you weasel, you manipulative, calculating little — oh whoops, sorry. I forgot who I was talking to for a moment there.

mozzarella, not pasta

Teaser! Soon to be posted: What Everyone Can Learn from a Little Pig Butchering