Cooking Kale for the First Time

Today, I made kale for the first time. I had eaten kale in minor amounts before, but the idea of cooking it had always intimidated me; it was too healthy, too green, too much of a vegetable that vegetable-lovers adored. Today, I took the plunge and bought a head. I tried boiling some with my ramen, which worked pretty well. But I found a better use for it tonight with dinner. I started by sauteeing one clove of chopped garlic in a tablespoon of olive oil. Next, I added the roughly chopped kale. After a few minutes, I put about half a cup of water in and some salt. I let this mixture cook for a short while, then tasted it--too bland. In went some shredded prosciutto, a little hot sauce, and some red pepper flakes. After a bit of cooking, the kale was pretty tasty, but too salty. I added some white kidney beans, and little bit of cider vinegar, then turned the heat on again. This turned out to be the perfect combination, and I'm happy to report that I will be cooking kale again. Soon.

Oh, Sourdough!

Half a sliced loaf of sourdough sits in my freezer, waiting to be eaten. I have established a new rule in my kitchen: at least half a loaf of sourdough must be in the freezer at all times. Those who violate the rule by eating some of the sourdough shall be responsible for replacing it. I will not look kindly upon those who waste the sourdough in any way, including accidentally dropping bread on the floor.

What provokes this militancy? The three years of sourdough deprivation I've endured, with only an occasional reprieve when I sojourned to San Francisco. At times, my yearning for sourdough became so desperate that I would eye the Colombo bakery stand in the Oakland airport and debate purchasing a loaf (which never occurred, as my carry-on luggage was always too full.)

In New York, the lack of sourdough meant that I settled for rye, which never had the satisfying tang of sourdough (just the abrupt zing of caraway seeds), or resigned myself to the fibrous choice, wheat. I never understood the paucity of sourdough in New York, but my best guesses include the prevailing yeast in the air is different in California or perhaps, an unspoken hatred of sour bread exists in the Northeast.

Is anyone wondering why I need my sourdough frozen? (Is anyone even reading this?)
When I was in elementary school, one of my "science" projects looked at the ideal household conditions for the growth of mold on bread. ("Science" here is meant in a broad sense, as my other projects included "What to Eat Before a Swim Meet" and "Do Plants Have Feelings?") To my horror, the conditions in the fridge were the best for mold, and the runner-up for the most mold was bread at room temperature. Surprisingly, the bread placed in the basement fared well, staving off mold growth for many days. Using the knowledge gained from this pivotal experiment, I now freeze half a loaf of sourdough soon after buying it and eat the other half over the span of a week.

The best way to enjoy frozen bread is to first defrost it at room temperature or in the microwave, then toast or grill the bread. While I might look wistfully back at other breads in New York--the "free" foccacia at Le Gourmet, the fresh pita at the Hummus Place, and pastries from Patisserie Claude, I look forward to making sandwiches with nicely sour, oh-so-tangy SoCal bread.

Jar of Jalapenos

My mother gave me a jar of pickled jalapenos a few weeks ago, and I've eaten about a quarter of it.

Here are some things I've done with the jalapenos:
-Added them to a homemade tostada,
-Topped my pizza with them,
-Ate them by themselves (I regretted this later),
-Took bites of them along with Thai instant noodles,
-Stuck them in burritos,
-Put them in my fried rice.

Here are some things I'm thinking about doing with pickled jalapenos:
-Cutting them into small pieces and making a jalapeno-yellowtail roll,
-Topping nachos with them,
-Putting them in a sandwich with french bread, grilled chicken, and jack cheese,
-Eating them with grilled beef and rice.

Japanese Food on Sawtelle

Last Friday, Jack and I discovered Japanese food heaven here in Los Angeles on Sawtelle Blvd. near Olympic. We had wonderfully fresh, tasty, and relatively inexpensive sushi (albeit in a non-white tablecloth, slightly chaotic environment) at Hide sushi. I particularly enjoyed the albacore tuna nigiri, which came with a ginger and ponzu-sauce topping, and the sour-and-sweet ume shisho roll. While one must stick to the menu at Hide Sushi (no omakase), we will put it on our list for simple, good fish that satisfies the periodic sushi craving.

Before dinner, we traipsed through a Japanese market with a large variety of sushi-grade fish and prepared food, like 99-cent rice balls with plum paste, spam musabi (sushi race with spam), and huge combination plates for around $6. We noted the ramen shops we plan to try in the future, along with the japanese-style tapas place mentioned in the NYT food review last week, the Beard Papa cream puff store, the all-you-can-sing karaoke, and the Giant Robot store, which my brother Andrew, a robotophile, would enjoy. We also saw the Japanese-style curry restaurants, a shabu-shabu place, some fragrant Korean BBQ, and a Japanese-Italian fusion menu that looked intriguing. Besides the choice of food, I enjoyed the feel of the neighborhood: watching little dogs in jeans jackets walk by and walking by nurseries full of flowers and plants. We'll be back!