APRIL 2012
Sunday 2012.4.29
Exoskeletons
The idea of lobsters and crabs came to mind this week as I continued to think about the disastrous pâte à choux pastry of two weeks ago when I tried to bake a Paris-Brest (see the April 15 blog entry below). The one piece of pastry that turned out properly was actually overcooked a little; the outside was a dark, crisp brown, almost burnt. I have since had a Eureka! moment about that outcome.
Choux pastry is supposed to bake up hollow, or nearly hollow. Unlike a loaf of bread or a cake, there is no sponge-like crumb on the inside to hold it up. So what keeps it from falling? The exoskeleton—like the shells of lobsters and crabs. The bones of crustaceans are on the outside, unlike we mammals with inner skeletons (and a few in the closet). Maybe I need to bake the pastry longer to really crisp up that outer shell.
All the pastry failures were because the pastry rings puffed up the way they were supposed to—I saw them through the oven window—but then fell. In the earlier blog I discussed the difference between America's Test Kitchen's (ATK) expensive high-end major appliances and my stove in this mobile home. The ATK recipe cuts corners a little by baking the Paris-Brest rings at the same time. The thinner one was put on a lower rack and removed from the oven before the larger ring was done. This might be the problem, as I do not have a high-end oven. Perhaps my oven loses too much heat when I open the door and cannot recover rapidly enough. I decided I needed to bake the rings in two separate processes to assure that each would cook to perfection.
And so yesterday I once again approached the challenge of pâte à choux. I shouldn't call it a challenge because most of my books recommend it as one of the easiest pastries to make. Even Alton Brown in a Good Eats episode referred to the simplicity of baking choux pastry. Some books describe it up front, as an early technique beginning pastry cooks should learn. I've mastered bread, which is supposed to be more difficult; so I should be able to tackle pâte à choux with ease. That was not my experience earlier this month.
Yesterday I made two more pastry rings. The best way I could think to describe them was that they looked like toilet seats, round and flat. The word toilet seemed appropriate. At one point I called a friend to tell him I was going to the warehouse store to buy another box of 60 eggs so that I would have enough for 15 more experiments. Really, this was becoming ludicrous.
The adventure into the perilous waters of choux pastry will continue today, now that I am stocked with eggs again. I had time to think about the problem overnight and most recipes I'd seen make little pastries for cream puffs or éclairs. Those pastries required a batter that had a "soft peaks" consistency. I am building a pyramid; therefore, perhaps I need a little more concrete, peaks that will stand up like the Eiffel Tower. For my next experiments I will increase the flour. On YouTube I saw Chef Jacques Pépin make a pastry ring for Paris-Brest and his choux pastry batter was thicker and stiffer than mine.
And so...let another gladiatorial combat with pâte à choux begin!
Wednesday 2012.4.25
Cooking From Scratch
I relish an opportunity to try a new recipe, especially those recipes that provide an opportunity to make something from scratch. I often see recipes that are more of an assemblage of pre-prepared ingredients. Cook dry spaghetti and then add sauce from a jar and include some thawed and heated frozen meatballs. Some recipes might offer a variation, such as adding crumbled cooked chicken.
I regularly receive a magazine from the central offices of the chain warehouse store where I do a lot of shopping. The recipes can be amusing to read. Most of the ingredients are the store's signature brand prepared ingredients, simply assembled into a finished dish. Heat and eat.
I don't wish to disparage the warehouse store. I live among neighbors whose trash can and recycling bin are always overflowing for each weekly pickup because there are so many empty packages from pre-prepared foods they purchased. Busy families, especially those in which both husband and wife, mother and father, work and therefore have little time, after picking up the kids at school and dropping them off at soccer practice, to shop and cook. Most dinners are of the heat-and-serve variety, when the pizza man doesn't show up with a delivery.
I refuse to be a snob when it comes to home cooking. I worked for many years before finally settling into the leisure of retirement. More than half the pasta I ate was of the dry store-bought variety. When I made pasta from scratch, I made a lot of dough. I portioned it and sealed it in vacuum pouches before storing it in either the refrigerator or the freezer. Put some water on the boil, run a piece of dough through the pasta machine, cook it and top it with some heated sauce. I could put dinner on the table in minutes. Even now, most of my meals are Minute Meals that I prepared and put in the freezer myself. Heat and eat.
When I made marinara sauce, it was often a mixed combination of two kinds of jarred sauce. One was too sweet. The other had too strong an herbal flavor. Blended, they were just right. I've served this blend to dinner guests and heard, "I can tell you make your own sauce. It's delicious." I nod. It's sort of homemade, if you can call blending it yourself as making it.
I made my own sauce occasionally, and it, too, was portioned and frozen for convenience. In these days of a faltering economy, made worse by an impotent government, home cooking can be a luxury few can afford. The time cost is simply too high. As for money, a book I'm reading says middle-class income has risen little in more than 30 years. It certainly hasn't kept up with inflation. Home cooking is, at least, a little less expensive.
I occasionally teach friends to cook. One in particular really likes to work in the kitchen and he is always improving his skills. He called me the other day with an idea for me to use one of his recipes to make some rustic pizzas, with him working behind the video camera. I suggested we switch roles, with him doing the cooking in front of the camera, as my "guest chef" of the day, with me shooting the video. He liked the idea.
These days I think of cooking as a hobby. Many people devote time to their hobbies in retirement. I devote a lot of time to mine, and I have more than one hobby. Those who can afford the time to cook meals from scratch, maybe during a three-day weekend, are encouraged to do so. Not only is it fun, it is satisfying to sit down to a fantastic meal that you made from scratch. And if you're trying to reduce your expenses, you can save money with DIY cooking.
Sunday 2012.4.22
Food Photography
I was fortunate to stumble upon a copy of a food photography book in epub format for reading on my Nook tablet—Plate to Pixel by Hélène Dujardin. I love books, as I love many things, and this book was no exception. The early part of the book covers the basics of cameras and photography. It is essential reading for the beginning food photographer.
I read everything because you never know when you might discover something new. For example, Dujardin says shutter speed priority mode is the least used camera setting in still photography. I take almost all of my kitchen photographs at 1/60 shutter speed to eliminate blur because I want a clinical lab look to the photographs. I only try to show what the food will look like at various stages in the preparation—nothing artsy about that. When I take my final shots of the day—the food artfully arranged on a plate in front of a window (Dujardin, too, likes natural lighting)—I switch to a different lens and set my camera to aperature priority mode because my concern is mostly with depth of field and composition. The clinical work is done.
Dujardin has a different focus on food photography, no pun intended. She does still photography as an art subject. I only get to the art when I am doing my final shots of the day. What I enjoyed the most was the confirmation that, although I am not doing everything right—I am still learning—I am on the right track. I also enjoy finding out what I am getting away with. I don't have a tenth of the equipment she uses, and yet I'm publishing adequate photographs on this web site. Of course, I'm not a professional photographer. I'm barely an entusiast. As an amateur/hobbiest, I don't require much.
I finished reading the book in a few days. It is easy to read—no insider jargon, no complicated formulas, no impossibly high expectations. It is, thankfully, not a textbook.
Angle of sight is important to me. There is the natural angle (three quarters), as though you are sitting at a table and looking down on the food. That's about 60°. Parallel to the table (about 0°) has visual appeal and I use it most often. It doesn't, however, work for foods that are below the rim, such as soup. I stand on the dining room table (or use a tripod) and shoot straight down (90°, high view point) on bowls of soup. One trick I use is to raise the bowl well above the table linen by placing a large can, such as an institutional-size can of tomatoes, under the bowl or plate, which hides the can. This gives me a falsely shallow depth of field. The table, which is supposed to be only an inch or two below the rim of the plate, recedes into the background, as if it were a foot away. The illusion is of a bowl of soup hovering above the surface of the table.
I did this for one of my favorite food pictures, that of minestrone in a bowl hovering about a tablecloth. The soup is in sharp focus and squarely in the center of the photo. The table linen and spoon fade into the background, of which I used more than usual, putting focus directly on the soup. In this photo there is no question as to which element is the focus of attention.
When shooting at a low angle, I usually start with the shallowest depth of field and then bracket through each f/stop as I take many photographs. Afterward I decide which shot best describes the food I want to feature. Another reason why I like a near-0° angle is that I have better choice of deep backgrounds. If my food is light in color, I'll darken the background to near black. Dark food, such as a tall slice of dark chocolate cake, might be shot with a nearly white background. I prefer a lot of contrast in my photographs.
Dujardin uses a sheet in front of the window to diffuse light. My recommendation: Try a thin shower curtain of nylon or polyester. The individual fibers are more transparent than cotton, allowing more light to pass through. I also use pieces of shower curtain as "silks" in front of my studio lights to diffuse light when doing my videos. One really useful trick I learned from Dujardin was a way to prop up the large white card I use for white balance and for reflecting fill light onto my subject. I had been using a small bronze statue of Eve and the Serpent. In Dujardin's photographs I saw that she used Pony clamps at the bottom of the card. Why didn't I think of that?!? Thank you Dujardin.
I don't agree with everything, naturally. Dujardin is a woman; I am a man. Most of her photographs have a feminine quality with pastel colors and soft shadows. Those who know my photographs appreciate that I like saturated colors and go for the full gamut of contrast, stark whites to dense blacks, when I can get them. Last week's photo of Tomato and Mushroom Crostini and this week's picture of Quadruple Rum Cake are good examples. I like highly reflective surfaces—glass, varnished hardwood, polished steel. Although I am well familiar with a color wheel (I have a 16-foot painting in my home that I did with four colors of oil paint, mixing all my own hues), I don't give thought to color because I don't dress the scene with complementing props. When I must choose colors, I grab quickly. It usually works well.
Dujardin's book was well worth the time to read. I learned a few tricks with which I will experiment in future food photographs. Mostly, though, I appreciate I'm already on the right track with my photography.
Wednesday 2012.4.18
So You Want to Have Your Own Food Website and YouTube Cooking Channel
Some of my friends are surprised when I tell them, "If you want to watch me film dinner, be here no later than 10:00 in the morning. 9:00 is better." The process actually starts the day before.
During the previous day I sit at my computer and type up my cue card for my list of ingredients, with USA and metric equivalents for the measures. This is printed with a large font and I use a "repositionable" glue stick to adhere the page(s) to a sheet of foam core that will mount on my video camera's tripod, just below the camera's lens. I read from the cue card as I detail the ingredients I use in the recipe. I also go shopping, preferably early in the morning, to get any final ingredients I might need.
I also write my shot-by-shot list, sort of like a cinematographer's storyboard, listing the various steps of the recipe and the places where I plan to shoot photographs of the progress. This gets taped to my kitchen wall, out of view of the cameras, where I can refer to it often as I prepare the dish.
During the evening I set up my home. The living room and kitchen windows are covered with blackout drapery fabrics that block out all outside light. The color and intensity of light changes throughout the day, which would cause uneven lighting in my videos. I have lights in my kitchen, with silks to diffuse the light. These are positioned high enough to be out of view of my video camera.
I set out the glass bowls I use and I usually measure and set up many of my ingredients, especially the dry ones, such as sugar and flour. Oils can be set up in advance too. I also try to anticipate any special utensils or small appliances I might need, making sure they are clean and polished to look good in a video.
I set up my dining room table with the plate(s) I will use for my final photographs of the day, along with the white boards I use to set my cameras' white balance, and any props I think I might need. I try to work with a minimum of props—maybe just a spoon if I will be photographing a bowl of soup. Too many props are a crutch. They create an atmosphere or an environment, ambience, but the real star of the photograph is the food. Feature the food.
The following morning, before I start shooting, I do my final ingredient preparation. Refrigerated items, such as milk and butter, are portioned and positioned. It set up my camera, tripods, and format the memory cards. I take a shower, prepare my hair, put a little powder on my face where I don't want my forehead to shine, and choose the clothes I will wear (if I didn't set them aside the evening before). The last step is to brew another cup of coffee and wire myself with my microphone. Install fresh batteries, test, test, test and, satisfied, I begin.
I try to start shooting no later than 10:00 a.m., starting with my mise in place and my introduction to the video. Following my shot-by-shot instructions on the wall, I work through the various steps of my recipe, stopping to position the video camera, set up my next shot, and shooting necessary still photographs. Along the way, there will be pauses, sometimes long ones, if something needs to simmer or bake for an hour. I use those pauses to wash my dishes. By the time I am doing my final tasting shot, the only items that need washing are the dish on which my food is plated and the fork with which I am tasting it. Everything else is cleaned, dried, and put away.
Then the blackout curtains come down off the windows. I need natural light to do my final shots of the day, my "royals." I switch my Nikon camera's lens to my 50mm 1:1.4 prime lens and change the camera from shutter speed priority to aperture priority. Remove and store my speedlight flashgun and take a new white balance, then set up my food for the royals. My windows' sheers were made from shower curtains, which have good light transparency (as compared to cotton or linen blends). They also don't change the light's hue. So I don't need to drape my windows with diffusers. I simply use my curtains.
I rapidly shoot as many stills as I think I might need, bracketing light compensation and depth of field along the way. I usually start at the lowest aperture opening, f/1.4, and then increase it one step at a time. Later I'll look through the photographs and decide which royals give me the best presentation of the food. In wintertime the sun sets early, so I need to start my day early to get my final photographs while there is still plenty of natural lighting. Summertime's late sunsets are a luxury.
Then the camera's memory cards are downloaded to my production computer, everything gets backed up, and then I start the process of breaking down my setup. Before nightfall my home is usually returned back to where it was before I started my setup the previous day. Everything is clean and stored away.
Maybe in my next blog I'll write about post-production.
Sunday 2012.4.15
America's Test Kitchen Fails Me
I like America's Test Kitchen. I subscribe to their Cook's Illustrated (CI) magazine and one of my reicpes, Pesto Lamb, won a place in one of their cookbooks, Cook's Country Best Lost Suppers.
What I like most about America's Test Kitchen is that they practically study a recipe to death, and therein sometimes lies the problems. They will prepare a recipe many times, adjusting different variables, and finding some useful shortcuts, until they perfect the formula and method of preparation. However, what is perfect in a kitchen equipped with top-of-the-line high-end appliances is not necessarily perfect in a mobile home kitchen; and wandering too far from the beaten path can sometimes get us lost.
Case in point: This week I tried making their Paris-Brest dessert from the November-December 2011 edition of CI. I tried five times. The praline came out okay, as far as I could tell. I never got to use it because I never progressed beyond the choux pastry. In most cases my pastry rings either fell flat before they came out of the oven, or soon afterward. Like their test kitchen, I tried adjusting some of the variables—time and temperature in the oven, the volume of eggs, the ratio of fat/flour/liquid. Nothing gave me a pastry ring like that shown in the magazine.
One critical factor on which I heavily depend is internal temperature. I like when a recipe says something like, "bake until an inserted toothpick comes out clean or when a digital thermometer registers between 195°F and 205°F." Save the toothpick for picking your teeth and pull out the digital thermometer. In the Paris-Brest recipe there was no mention of internal temperature. After the fifth attempt I tossed everything in the trash, formatted my still camera's micro SD card and both memory cards in my video camera, and I even deleted everything I had already moved to the computer. Then I made myself a pot of tea. It's amazing how soothing tea can be when feeling frustrated.
Paris-Brest is, thankfully, such a classic dessert that there are recipes practically everywhere. Julia Child discusses it in Mastering the Art of French Cooking. There are also recipes in two other cookbooks and four textbooks in my library. So I am not left without a clue. I am, however, burnt out on this recipe. I won't attempt Paris-Brest for a while, not until I feel I can make a fresh start with a clear head.
I realize some recipes need multiple efforts. I made ten Custard Pies before I finally got the formula the way I wanted it. However, I am disappointed that Cook's Illustrated failed me one time. As I mentioned above, they do stray away from conventional methods of preparation to find shortcuts and "fail-safe" procedures that might not work in all kitchens. I marked the magazine recipe with "Formula does not work" and put it away. When I return to this recipe again, I'll use one from a more reliable source—one of my textbooks.
Wednesday 2012.4.11
Pizza Parties
Many years ago when I enjoyed a different and younger circle of friends, I first gained my reputation for making delicious pizza. One form of recreation we enjoyed back then was pizza parties. I would make the dough in advance, enough for several pizzas, and provide the sauce and one or two toppings. Guests would bring toppings they wanted on the pizza. A list was arranged, with each item costing about the same, so that everyone wouldn't bring an onion or a small can of chopped olives. Two people might share the cost of a package of Italian sausages or pepperoni whereas another person might bring two or three items if they cost very little. You need to cost it out in advance and arrange the list in such a way that it is fair to everyone, and to make certain you have enough cheese for all those pizzas.
One person I knew at that time would arrange similar potluck dinner parties or backyard barbeques. She would "provide the salad" and assign everyone else to bring the meats, desserts, and alcohol. I went to only one of those parties, partly because she would only use cheap paper plates, but she wanted everyone to dress nicely. Grease leaked through my paper plate onto my dress trousers because I had to rest my plate on my lap as I ate. The big reason I stayed away was because she spent almost nothing by putting the financial burden of the dinner on her guests. Some hostess!
The pizza parties were a lot of fun because you can only fit two large pizzas in the oven at the same time because most ovens have only two racks. So the evening was spent visiting while pizzas went into and came out of the oven. Some of the guests participated by assembling a pizza or two, adding toppings after I shaped the dough and gave it a layer of sauce. I spent most of my time in the kitchen because while pizzas were baking I was sautéing onions or mushrooms on the stove top in preparation for the next assembly.
It made for an enjoyable evening of association and eating. Each time the kitchen timer would ring, signaling that two more pizzas were done, conversations would stop as people gathered around the kitchen for a slice of the latest creation. There was a lot of variety and some people sampled pizzas they had never tasted before. Beer and wine were also shared, but those who drank did so responsibly.
I would happily host those parties today if I lived in a home large enough to accommodate all those people. My mobile home, though a double-wide, is only large enough for two or three guests at a time. I don't let people eat in my living room because I have an expensive Persian rug. Another problem is parking. We are allowed only two cars per space. I own one car, which leaves room for only one more. Anyone else who wishes to visit must park their car outside the park and walk in.
Although we never did pasta parties, I think it would be a fun idea too. Let people experiment with different sauces and toppings, different cheeses, meats, and seafood. There are so many shapes of pasta, variety wouldn't be a problem. Besides store-bought dry pasta I would also prepare in advance some pasta dough from scratch, so that guests could compare. Rolling and shaping the pasta in front of guests would be part of the entertainment.
If you're adventurous and ambitious, an enjoyable dinner party could be more entertaining than just a simple potluck. Reserve some of the preparation do in front of your guests—or better yet, let them participate—and they'll be talking about your party for weeks afterward.
Sunday 2012.4.8
Boys and Their Toys
I love toys. When I think of boys' toys I think of consumer electronics. I build my own computers (I am currently down to owning only two), I have a digital Nikon SLR, a Sony 1080p video camera, and the list goes on and on. One good thing about most consumer electronics is miniaturization; they're small. Unlike my new bundt pan, consumer electronics fit better in a mobile home.
Those who have been following this blog will already know that I retired several months ago and one of the pastimes I've taken up in retirement is learning to play the piano. I want to become really proficient at learning to read sheet music.
A long time ago, soon after I bought my Nook, I downloaded an app, StudyDroid. It's a flash card program. One of its features is the ability to put graphic images on the front and back of each "card" in the deck. Using my computer and some software, I created images with a single whole note on the grand staff—base and treble staffs for piano. I also created graphics using a photo of a piano keyboard on which I labeled a key in relation to middle C.
There are 22 cards in my deck, from the G at the bottom of the base staff all the way up to the F at the top of the treble staff. StudyDroid allows me to shuffle the deck, and so I sit at the piano with my Nook propped against the sheet music holder and randomly flip through images and try to quickly play the key on the piano. A quick tap on the Nook screen reveals the second side of the card to show the picture of the key is was supposed to press.
I can name most of the notes on the staff fairly quickly. It's striking the correct piano key that I need to improve. I am hoping that, given enough time, I'll see a musical note and, without even needing to think about it, my hands will respond with a quick reflex action and play the right note. It's a goal.
As for my electronic digital piano, I made a modification this week. The white and black keys rest against a foam cushion when they are up in their home position. That foam pad was compressed and deteriorated with age. When I released each key it would rise up with an annoying click. The keys would also stick because the foam cushion was gummy. I know real pianos use felt; so I went to the hardware store and bought a small roll of felt padding that is ½ inch wide and 58 inches long. I removed the bottom cover from my piano and, after scraping off all the old gummy foam (which took more than an hour) I trimmed the felt and placed it where the foam had been. It works perfectly. My piano keys are silent, just like they were when the piano was new more than 20 years ago. Now I enjoy practicing again.
When I publish my video of Rum Cake you will see a clip in which I play the piano. You might hear the clicking of the keys. Thankfully, that noise is gone now.
Wednesday 2012.4.4
I thought I uploaded this entry yesterday, but I looked for it today and it wasn't there.
Are Minute Meals Good Medicine?
Circulating in the news this week has been information from a research article that suggests that eating fast foods might be linked to clinical depression. The research was by Dr. Sánchez-Villegas at the University of La Palmas de Gran Canaria and published in the journal Public Health and Nutrition. The title of the article is Fast-food and Commercial Baked Goods Consumption and the Risk of Depression. I would provide a link, but the article costs $45 unless you have free access through an educational institution library.
This article interested me because many years ago, actually more than a decade ago, I experienced occasional episodes of depression. Most the time they were mild. Just feeling a little low. Severe episodes were rare. During that time I read six books by psychologist Robert A. Johnson. The two I enjoyed the most were He: Understanding Masculine Psychology (Revised Edition) and The Fisher King & The Handless Maiden: Understanding the Wounded Feeling Function in Masculine and Feminine Psychology. They ultimately led me to a graduate program in counseling psychology with and emphasis in Jungian depth psychology.
One bit of "self-medicating" I practiced upon myself back then was to increase my intake of vegetables. My diet was typically poor in nutrition. When I consumed more vegetables, the depression would go into almost full remission. I never attributed any physiological connection to the vegetables. I assumed it was purely psychological, a placebo effect—I was taking better care of my body by eating more vegetables and therefore I figured I simply felt better about my lifestyle choices. Now I wonder…
I have been eating my Minute Meals for several years now. Depression is non-existent. I enjoy a very positive outlook on life. I suppose I can attribute my recent retirement to making, at least, a moderate contribution to that outlook. I also enjoy having this website to maintain. Nonetheless, that research article makes me wonder how much my Minute Meals contribute to my positive mood.
As I've mentioned before, I am not a doctor nor a licensed clinical nutritionist or dietician. I therefore can't make any recommendations regarding diet and nutrition. Suffice to say, it works for me and therefore I'll continue my pattern of eating. My weight is down, my blood pressure is normal, and my mood is positive; so I appear to be benefitting.
Sunday 2012.4.1
Making Rum Cakes
My friend Eric did come over on Wedesday, as I talked about in Wednesday's blog, and we did make a rum cake. I didn't have a bundt pan; so he brought one from his grandmother's home. It was an old ceramic dish, kind of a bundt bowl, but usable. I followed the directions, with some guidance from Eric, who had made the rum cake before. The results were less than satisfactory.
Although I greased the bowl well, some of the golden crust along the outside of the cake stuck to the bowl and stayed behind, leaving the cake looking sort of like a circular shaved dog. it was a wierd look. There was no question that this cake was not suited for one of my videos. I don't aim for perfection in my videos. Human fallibility adds interest, if not amusement and humor. I do, however, strive for a level of competency. I know what I'm doing when cooking and I want to show that in my videos.
And so we headed down into the city to shop for a new bundt pan. Oh the joys of cell phones. I hadn't talked with Eric's mom in a while, so I called her from inside the car (Eric was driving). She told me about a new "anniversary" Original Bundt Pan recently released by NordicWare. I like NordicWare because their products are made in the USA. We have an unemployment problem in our nation and the more we do as citizens to purchase only American made products, when we can find them, the more we contribute to the solution.
At the cookware store, which has excellent customer service, we were greeted when we entered the store. "May I help you find something?" I told the woman about the bundt pan. She wasn't familiar with the "anniversary" model but offered to look it up in their catalog after showing me where the NordicWare cookware was shelved. It took less than a minute to find the pan, which I gladly purchased. It's large (10-15 cups on the label, but it has a 16-cup capacity when filled to the rim), made of cast aluminum, a non-stick coating, and, unlike the ceramic bundt bowl, it has handles, making it a lot easier to remove from the oven or invert onto a cooling rack.
On Thursday I made the cake again, once again shooting the video of the process. What a difference the right pan makes! The bundt cake came out perfect. This is a video and recipe I will be proud to publish.
As for the first cake, Eric took that one home with him. I didn't want it. The second cake was shared with neighbors after I removed what I needed to photograph the feature shots for when I publish. As for the recipe PDF and videos, those will be published on this web site and on Youtube probably toward the end of April.