CANNED - Spring Salad

Beets and Garbanzo Beans Mingled

The sky was bright blue outside my window this morning. The birds were chirping (and I don't just mean those pigeons getting it on outside my bathroom window). The daffodils were standing tall, freed from their coat of snow. The air felt, if not warmer, at least less frigid. Could Spring finally be here?

Having the uncanny ability to jinx any wishful thinking into oblivion just by entertaining it for a second, I willed myself to stop thinking about the weather forecast and my Spring jackets. Instead I made a salad, but nonetheless one to celebrate the warmer days fast approaching. It sautéed tender asparagus to top of a bed of greens, garbanzo beans and beets. As for the dressing, I used a clever trick from my roommate: mixing even less than a tablespoon of hummus with some lemon juice lends a rich, flavorful dressing that couldn't be quicker to prepare and pairs fantastically with a big mixed salad. Looks like I'll be coming up with fresher canned ideas in the next few weeks... But not too many... I can't jinx it!

Random Rant

Nothing French about this plate!

(Image courtesy of NYMag.com)

I tend to get a little heated when people dislike something and proceed to base the main point of criticism on a misconception, which they unfortunately believe to be true. If you're going to knock something, at least build a proper argument. So after watching Michael Symon - a really fantastic and praiseworthy chef - mock the French Dip sandwich as the snooty counterpart to his cool and approachable Cleveland Dip on today's episode of The Chew, I was frustrated and disappointed. There is nothing French about the French Dip. It's on a French roll and that makes it French, you say? French rolls aren't French either. A baguette? Yes. A bland, soft bun? No. And while I'm at it, I'm going to break news and tell you that French fries are actually Belgian. And French toast is just a resourceful way of using old bread and is not imbued with anything particularly francophile. 

But I digress. What bothers me more than a dish being called French as a result of some random cook or owner's marketing strategy is when the misnomer ends up being used against it. The French have nothing to do with French Dip, and now they've got people making jabs at their culture for being "snooty" based on a dish they've never even heard of. Makes none of the sense to me. Especially considering that their is nothing snooty about a French Dip anyway - it's beef on an old bun drenched in meat broth! With yellow mustard if you're feeling fancy! Symon's sub was far more highbrow than any French Dip I've ever seen.

In the end I must admit that I genuinely enjoy jus-soaked French Dip sandwiches, and I will always look forward to watching Michael Symon praise the virtues of bacon on The Chew. But I'm also going to keep ranting when a dish is reproved for being something it isn't in the first place.

CANNED - Mushroom Bourguignon

Since moving to the exciting, bustling, stimulating - and expensive! - city that is New York, I've been looking for ways to make my food budget seem less like a starving grad student's and more like a resourceful yet fulfilled epicurean's. It is certainly going to require some time and patience before I feel like I've done this hefty task any justice, but I've really been enjoying recent explorations of canned foods. Nobody should turn a cold shoulder to produce just because it comes out of a can - beets stay sweet, garbanzo beans boast their natural meatiness and veggies preserve their nutrients.

I've decided to share my trials, failures and successes here on my blog in a new feature, "Canned." Hope you enjoy it!

Last night I made a mushroom bourguignon, a vegetarian adaptation of the archetypically French beef stew. My version featured mushrooms, carrots, peas and kidney beans simmered in red wine with garlic, rosemary and bay leaves. It was a perfectly satisfying stew for a chilly night watching my roommate cry in front of the Bachelor finale, and was all the more tasty on the rainy day that followed.

Here's my sorry attempt at crafting a recipe out of my throw-ingredients-in-a-pot approach to cooking for myself. I'll be more mindful of creating step by step instructions with actual measurements next time!

Sauté onions and garlic in a soup pot, season. Add chopped carrots and cook for a bit, then add quartered mushrooms. Stir and cook until vegetables are slightly browned, then deglaze with wine and add water or stock, bay leaves and dried rosemary. Once the stew has simmered for about 20 minutes, add frozen peas and canned white kidney beans. Finally if you're like me, stick a cracker in your bowl. Otherwise you might pull out some nice crusty bread to soak up the wine sauce. 

Altogether, here are the expenses for my mushroom bourguignon:

• Mushrooms - two boxes of white mushrooms for $1.79 each.
• Carrots - one bag for 69 cents (insanely cheap, I've been stocking up!)
• Onion - 59 cents.
• Peas - one bag costs $1.19 in the freezer section.
• Beans - 89 cents.
• Wine - leftover, so I like to think of it as free.

My grand total came to about $6.94. With leftovers spread over another two meals, my mushroom bourguignon came down to $2.31 per serving. Now that's French home cooking on a budget!

Morning Indulgence

Whole Wheat Everything Bagel from Tompkins Square Bagels

You haven't eaten breakfast yet. But your watch still reads a respectable morning hour. You've convinced yourself you don't need anything while passing bakery after bakery. Until you finally give up. You hang a quick right, push the door open and slowly step into the shop's comfort. The air is heavy with aromas of freshly baked bread, buttery puff pastry and house coffee.

Nothing is more universal than food, nor are those delicious pangs known as cravings. Delicious only if you give in to them, that is. And to be honest, we all ultimate do because that's the (only) fun part of cravings: satisfying them. Cravings have lured me into patisseries for a pain au chocolat, driven me to New York's privileged bagel shops and beckoned me to order churros con chocolate from Spanish street vendors on many a dreary morning. And they were always made a touch brighter for it.

Steak Tartare? Mais Oui!

Image courtesy of BBC Good Food

You know what tons of New Yorkers eat that Californians don't?

Besides foie gras. Don't get me started on that. I had the privilege of enjoying some over a lunch date yesterday at the MoMA's The Modern restaurant, and was reminded that in certain aspects New York remains king of the American food scene.

Anyway. I've noticed, while gazing at what my fellow patrons are eating or observing what has been placed on the tables of the French bistro where I work, that a lot of New Yorkers eat steak tartare. Indeed, to my surprise, my new people aren't shy about digging into a mound of raw meat and egg. And it's not just older connoisseurs reminiscing on their last trip to Paris ordering the very French lunchtime special. It's young 20-something-year-olds. On dates.

It's even difficult for me to picture steak tartare being featured on a California menu, let alone customers receiving it well. "When was the meat ground? How long has it been sitting in the kitchen? Is the egg served on top organic? And do you have gluten-free toasts instead?"

I must admit I've never tried steak tartare myself, both out of lack of interest as a kid and lack of exposure on the West coast. But it looks like I'm about to. And, judging from its popularity in this city, I'm about to like it as well.