Simplify....

For a while now, I've been posting on two different platforms, blogger and wordpress.

I've got nothing against blogger, but in order to streamline and simplify my job, I'm going to only post over at wordpress.

If you're a regular visitor to this site, I hope you'll switch over with me. Same great taste, less filling (up my schedule).

www.penandfork.wordpress.com

See you there!

Gwen Ashley Walters
food writer, cookbook author, blogger, cook, dishwasher and dog walker.

Phoenix Files: 5 Must Try Fries

(Image courtesy Bourbon Steak)

French fries never go out of style.

But lately, fries have made a resurgence of sorts, appearing on the menus of high dollar steakhouses, quirky neighborhood spots and upscale fast food joints, not to mention gracing the cover of Gourmet.

Some may think that the big daddy of all fries is found under the golden arches. While we'd like to poo-poo that idea, the truth is Micky D's set the standard for hot, skinny, salty fries.

We'd rather have a hot batch of spuds from one of these five - make that six - Phoenix area restaurants.

Didn't really want to put a chain at the top of the heap, but the fries speak for themselves and nobody does a better fry than Bourbon Steak. Oh, and they're free - a gratis nibble before the main meal.

So, without further ado, here are five fries that are worth the caloric splurge.


(drum roll, please...)






1.Bourbon Steak. Without a doubt, the best French fries in the Valley are the trio of duck fat fried sticks from Michael Mina's sleek steakhouse at the Scottsdale Fairmont.

Three silver cups filled with crispy spuds - one speckled with garlic and herbs, another glazed with truffle oil and a third dusted with spicy smoked paprika. The accompanying sauces - oniony ketchup, creamy truffle aioli, and smoky barbecue sauce - are just icing on the cake.

Maybe the presentation has something to do with it, but more than likely, it's the duck fat.


2. Cafe Bink. But only because the chef cooks them not once, not twice, but THREE times. A gentle par boil first, followed by two rendezvous with the fryer. The result? Crisp on the outside, airy and tender on the inside.


3. Christopher's Restaurant and Crush Lounge does two kinds of frites. One type is crispy matchsticks but we're more taken with the russet and sweet potato fry medley. The truffled, spicy ketchup is a bonus.


4. Maizie's Cafe & Bistro. This cozy uptown neighborhood bar serves French fries that, (are you sitting down?), actually taste like potatoes. Amazing, but true.


5. The Tuck Shop. Just because they're not called French fries, doesn't mean they're not. Patatas bravas are fat sticks of herb-crusted taters served with garlicky aioli and a bowl of smoked paprika spiked tomato sauce - a Spanish twist worth seeking out.


Honorable mention: Wrap-N-Frappe. No, seriously, they have fantastic sweet potato fries, but it's the honey dipping sauce that landed them on the honorable mention roll.

How to Cook Swiss Chard

I'm standing in line at the grocery store and the cashier starts ringing up my basket. He has to look up every single code on the produce, save bananas.

He's young.

When he picks up the Swiss chard, he says, "what's this?"



I tell him it's spinach on steroids. A light bulb goes off in his head.

And then he asks me what I do with it. Cook it, I say. Oh, he says, followed by how?

Now, he's maybe 16, so I know he's not going to go home and cook a batch of Swiss chard, but I tell him anyway, just in case. I mean, I'd like to think that the young ones are interested in cooking.

The first thing I do is trim the stalks from the stems. You can cook the stems, if you like, but they need more cooking than the leaves, and I don't like the texture, so I discard them (to the compost pile if you have one!)



Cutting the stem is like cutting a "V" from the leaf. Once the stems are removed, I fold the leaves in half, lengthwise and roll them up. Then I just chop them a few times.

Next, place them in a bowl and cover with cold water to rinse off any grit.



If the chard seems particularly dirty, give them another bath. Swish around the chard with your hand and then let them rest, so any dirt will sink to the bottom of the bowl. Gently grab a few handfuls at a time and place them in a salad spinner basket.

What? You don't have one? Why not? It was going to be No. 11 on my top ten list of best kitchen gadgets, but then it wouldn't have been a top ten list.



I like the OXO salad spinner, with the hand pump on top. Let's you get out a bit of aggression. They have two sizes, but the larger one is the most useful. I've given it as a gift to some of my favorite people.

I don't like the brands that have a pull string to spin the basket. Maybe I'm too rough with it, but I usually end up ripping the darn string out. The pump style is much more durable for people like me.

Back to the chard, the reason it needs to be dry is because we're going to saute it in a skillet with a little olive oil, maybe even a little garlic, but I'm getting ahead of myself here.

If it's not dry, then the water droplets will hit the oil and make it splatter. Messy.



Now, this pan looks ridiculously full. It is. And that's only about 2/3's of the batch. Pour about a tablespoon (or teaspoon if you're using a non stick pan and watching your girlish figure) into a pan and heat over medium heat. Add as much Swiss chard as you can fit, and it's OK if it mounds up higher than a kite.

Let it cook a couple minutes, then with tongs, gently start to turn the chard, pulling the leaves on the bottom up to the top. Soon, right before your very eyes, it will shrink. (And darken to an very unattractive shade of green, which is why I usually hide it underneath the rest of the meal.) As the chard wilts, add any extra that didn't fit in the pan.

Once it is all wilted, you can add some minced garlic and cook that in with the chard for flavor. Minced shallots, too, if you're feeling frisky.

It only takes about 7 to 8 minutes to fully cook. You know it's done when you taste it and it's tender but not mushy. Season with salt and pepper and call it a day.

I debated long and hard about whether or not to include this last picture. Cooked, chard isn't really all that attractive (hence, the hiding underneath, say beautiful sweet potatoes, or a saffron scented rice pilaf, for example).



Swiss chard is in season now and it's so good for you - full of those antioxidants the experts say we need (vitamins A, C and E) - plus a ton of vitamin K (good for blood clotting and bruise-healing) and a bunch of B vitamins to boot.

Despite the health benefits, I think it really tastes good.

Like spinach, on steroids, only better.

Christopher's Louis Jadot Wine Dinner

This must be wine dinner week in Phoenix.

On Tuesday, May 19, just one night before the Binkley's-Duncan Farms dinner and the Autostrada wine dinner, Christopher's & Crush Lounge presents a five course dinner paired with five wines from the famed Louis Jadot winery (and a port from Portugal for dessert).

Just for fun, I've put a little glossary together at the end of this post, just in case you run across a word you're not familiar with.

Amuse bouche: panna cotta of creme fraiche with a millefeuille of house smoked salmon and brioche paired with Chablis.

1st course: ravioli of scallops with essence of truffles, lobster, tomato tea and fines herbes paired with Meursault.

2nd course: braised veal cheeks with vinaigre de xeres, parsnip puree, confit of leeks and foie gras paired with Pommard.

Main course: pigeon roasted with wild mushrooms, cipollini onions, and oeufs en meurette in burgundy paired wth Gevery Chambertin.

Dessert: chocolate tart with chocolate sorbet and espresso sauce paired with Fonseca Bin 27.

Details: 2502 E. Camelback, (at the Biltmore shopping center), Phoenix, (602) 522-2344, $75++/per person.


Glossary:

amuse bouche: a little nibble to stimulate the palate.

brioche: a soft, eggy yeast bread.

confit: cooked in its own fat (like duck confit) but in this case, the term is used with leeks, so the leeks will be cooked in fat.

creme fraiche: a dairy product made with heavy cream and buttermilk, similar to sour cream only more delicate in texture.

fines herbes: a particular French combination of the herbs chervil, chives, parsley and tarragon.

millefeuille: a traditional French dessert made with layers of puff pastry and vanilla cream. Looks like Christopher will be replacing the puff pastry with brioche layers and the vanilla cream with his house smoked salmon.

oeufs en meurette: eggs poached in a dark red wine sauce.

panna cotta: an Italian dessert made with cream and usually gelatin for thickening. In this case, it will be a savory dish, made with creme fraiche.

vinaigre de xeres: sherry vinegar

Autostrada or Binkley's?

Next Wednesday, May 20th, two wine dinners are happening in the northeast valley and wouldn't it be great if you could clone yourself so that you could go to both? Take a look at the menus and wine pairings, and call to make a reservation before the rest of the valley finds out.

Autostrada's wine maker's dinner will feature Toscana wines, imported from Italy by Giuliana Imports of Boulder, Colorado. The five courses of rustic, Italian-inspired cuisine from Chef Aaron May will be paired with selections from resident Sommelier, Dave Johnson.

First course: Mixed baby lettuces with white wine poached pears, sheep's milk ricotta, roasted hazelnuts and cherrywood balsamico, paired with Fontaleoni Vernaccia Di San Gimignono.

Second course: porcini crusted halibut with roasted baby beets and chive sauce, paired with Mocali Rosso Di Montalcino.

Third course: torchio pasta with broccolini, chile flake, grated bresaola and pecorino nero, paired with San Giusto A Rentennano Chianti Classico.

Fourth course: roasted lamb on sweet pepper ragu with salsa verde, paired with a Super Tuscan - Uccelliera Rapace.

Fifth course: almond and semolina souffle with candied orange, paired with the sweet Piazzano Vin Santo.

Details: May 20, 7 p.m., Autostrada, 20825 N. Pima (DC Ranch), (480) 513-2886, $75++/* per person


Binkley's and Duncan Farms are teaming up, along with AZ Wines of Carefree, to create a six course extravaganza. Starting with passed hors d'ouerves and a sparkling Cava from Spain, Kevin Binkley will roll out six "art on a plate" courses featuring the organic produce from valley favorite, Duncan Farms.

Halibut Carpaccio with haricots verts, gold nugget tomatoes, amethyst onions and tomato water vinaigrette, paired with the Frederic Giachino "Vin de Savoie" Abymes, France.

Soft Shell Crab with fried green tomato, charred spring onion, olives and horseradish, paired with Gerard Nuemeyer, "Les Hospices" Riesling, Alsace, France.

Desert Squash Blossoms, stuffed with sweet peppers, Italian sausage and Parmesan, paired with Benovia, Pinot Noir, Sonoma Coast.

Duck Breast and rillette with pineapple, fennel and blackberries, paired with Qupe Vineyards, "Bien Nacido" Syrah, Santa Maria Valley.

Ribeye with honey bear squash, baby beets and leeks, paired with Cade, "Napa Cuvee" Cabernet Sauvignon, Napa Valley.

Carrot Cheese Cake with coconut, raisins, pistachios, cinnamon phyllo and chocolate, paired with Lilly Pilly "Noble Blend" from Austrailia.

Details: May 20, 6:30 p.m., Binkley's Restaurant, 6920 E. Cave Creed Rd, Cave Creek, (480) 437-1072, $105++/* per person

* ++ means plus tax and gratuity.

Coddling Baby Fennel...

Don't you just love the name baby fennel? It sounds much more beguiling than just fennel.

Baby vegetables are either cultivated to be just babies or, including this baby fennel, are harvested before they reach maturity, so they are miniature versions of the fully matured vegetable. Generally, that means they're not only more tender, but also more delicate in flavor.

Fennel is sometimes mistakenly labeled anise, which is a completely different plant from fennel.

If you have fennel seeds in a spice jar in your pantry, those also are not from the same species that produces this lovely, off-white bulb. Confusing, I know.

Fennel seeds come from the common fennel plant and the bulbous vegetable is called Florence fennel, or finocchio in Italian.



Florence fennel can be eaten raw or it can be cooked. Raw, it has a crisp crunch and a delicate, understated flavor of licorice, much milder than the fennel seed.

Roasting the fennel, like you would butternut squash, sweetens the fennel, making it silky tender, too.

To use the fennel in a salad, cut the bulb from the green stalks. The feathery fronds on the stalks, which resemble dill in appearance, can be used as a garnish.



I like to shave the fennel using a mandolin, and the one in the picture above is my favorite mandolin. It's a Japanese Benriner.

Once cut, the fennel will oxidize (turn brown), so shave it just before you plan to serve it to retain the whitish color.

Tossing it with a delicate acid, like orange juice, will slow down the oxidization.



We're making an orange and fennel salad here, so after shaving the bulb into delicate ribbons, peel the pith from an orange, and separate the segments of the orange.

Squeeze the pulp of the orange after you've removed the sections over the fennel and toss.

To finish the salad, toss the shaved fennel and orange segments together, and then snip pieces of the fennel fronds over the top. Season with a little salt and pepper before serving.



If you are so inclined (and don't live with an olive hater) adding a few chopped black olives would really enhance this salad, adding a salty element to the sweet taste of the orange and fennel.

I especially like the wrinkly, dry-cured black olives. But, alas, I do live with an olive hater, so no olives for this salad.

Jicama - The Mexican Potato

We've seen this brown, bulbous root vegetable in our markets in the Southwest forever, yet without fail, someone in the grocery store will stop me and ask me what it is, followed by "what do you do with it?"

I use it as a paper weight. (Kidding).

Jicama, a staple in Mexican and South American cuisine can be eaten raw or lightly cooked. The flesh glistens pearly white.



It's full of fiber and water, so it has a lovely crunch. My favorite way to serve jicama is as a component in a salad. It can be the star or a supporting cast member.

The first thing you have to do is peel the thin brown skin. I normally peel it before I cut it in half but I wanted you to see the inside first.



Once peeled, you can cut it any way you like. Cut it into matchsticks or cube it.

I made a jicama, orange and jalapeno side dish to go with barbecue, so I cubed it, added some orange sections and minced jalapeno.



Squeeze the orange after you remove all the sections over the jicama and then give it a good toss.

You could add a little olive oil for richness, but it's fine to leave it fat free.

Season with salt and pepper to taste and you've got a refreshing, crunchy salad.

Montreal Steak Seasoning...

I picked up a free sample of McCormick & Co.'s Montreal Steak seasoning somewhere. I'm not exactly sure where I got it, either at a culinary festival or a culinary conference. I know that it was free because it says so right on the little packet.

We don't eat much beef around here anymore, despite my Texas upbringing, but I bought a couple steaks from a local Arizona cattle rancher at a farmers market a couple of weeks ago. Since I bought them (the young rancher looked so darn cute in his cowboy hat, I couldn't resist) I decided that I might as well grill them and use up the packet of free spice.

The Montreal Steak seasoning's first ingredient is salt. Normally, that would dissuade me from buying the spice. But the thing is, for steak, salt is probably the most important seasoning. You need salt and plenty of it to bring out the beefy taste (especially if the beef is grass fed, like these New York Strips).

Besides salt, there's a hefty amount of pepper - black peppercorns and red chile flakes. There are a few cracked coriander seeds and fennel seeds and lots of orange-tinted flakes that at first I thought might be orange peel. They're not. They taste hot. And garlicky. Maybe they're just granulated garlic but I'm not sure why they're orange.

If you grill a lot of steaks and you're always trying out a new spice mix, you might like this blend. Just be generous with it so it can live up to it's "bold" claim.

Roasted Curried Cauliflower

You remember I'm not a big fan of cauliflower, right? Well, I need to amend that because now have another recipe that makes me think it's not so bad after all.

Yesterday, I wrote about Maharajah curry powder, one of four global spice blends worth trying.

Today, I'm sharing a recipe for roasted cauliflower using that highly aromatic (and colorful) spice. And by recipe, you do know that I mean, I'll just talk you through the process, right?

The first thing you do, after turning the oven on at 400 degrees, is cut the florets off the head of the cauliflower, cutting the larger ones into bite size pieces.

Wash and pat dry with paper towels. We'll be tossing with oil later, so the florets need to be dry. Oh, this head of cauliflower is two pounds, kind of a medium-ish size.

I also cut 1/2 of a large, yellow onion into lengthwise wedges, because, you know, what's roasted cauliflower without onions?



Whisk together a scant tablespoon of the Maharajah curry powder with 1/2 teaspoon of salt, 1/2 teaspoon (or, 1 full teaspoon if you dare) of Sriracha (or other hot sauce), and 3 tablespoons of olive oil.



Pour the mixture over the cauliflower and onions and give it a good toss, coating the whole caboodle. (Caboodle is such a fun word. Say it with me: kuh-BOOD-l. If that doesn't put a grin on your face, I don't know what will.)



Spread the cauliflower and onions on a baking sheet in a single layer. Place in the oven and roast until the cauliflower starts to caramelize and the onions are tender, about 20 to 25 minutes.



The only thing left to do now is to taste it and adjust for salt and pepper. I like to give it a good sprinkle of freshly ground white pepper, and finish it with some chopped fresh mint. Mint and curry go together like peanut butter and jelly, in an exotic sort of way. You could use cilantro if you have it in addition to, or instead of the mint.



Roasted curried cauliflower is really delicious as a side dish to say, grilled pork or grilled halibut. Or you could use it to top a salad dressed with a lemon vinaigrette. Or, you could even puree it, add a little vegetable stock, a splash of cream and call it a soup.

I'm getting hungry just thinking about it. I bought the Maharajah curry powder at Penzey's but you can find it at other specialty spice sites like The Spice House and Whole Spice, too.

Four Global Spice Blends To Try

There are literally thousands of spice blends on the market. Here are four that you may not have in your pantry, but should -- and why.

Berbere is an Ethiopian mix of paprika, chipotle, fenugreek, ginger, cardamom, nutmeg, allspice, cinnamon and garlic, used to flavor aromatic stews called wats. Like curry spice mixes, every family in Ethiopia has their own custom blend. The flavor is smoky with a peppery bite and added warmth that only cinnamon and ginger can bring. It's excellent on beef, lamb and pork, but it can also liven up vegetables like cauliflower and potatoes.

Za'Atar blends can be found in northern Africa and in the Middle East. It's a citrusy, earthy mixture of thyme, oregano, sumac (the citrusy flavor), sesame seeds and salt. Use it on chicken, fish and pork, or even stir into yogurt for a quick dip.




Adobo in this form, is a dry spice blend most often associated with Mexico, Puerto Rico and other Latin American countries. Typical ingredients include dried onion, garlic, black pepper, Mexican oregano, cumin and cayenne. Think of it as a Latin flavored seasoned salt. Use it on chicken, pork and potatoes. (Note: the Filipino adobo refers to a vinegar stewed dish, not a spice blend.)


Maharajah curry powder is on the mild, dare we say "sweet" side of curry powders. It is similar to the standard "grocery store" curry powder although worlds more aromatic. It gets its golden color from turmeric and a touch of saffron, but the aromatics make this Maharajah blend special: coriander, cumin, cardamom, fenugreek, ginger, nutmeg, fennel, cinnamon, and cloves. Black, white and cayenne peppers add subtle heat. Excellent with vegetables (especially cauliflower) and soups, stews and rice dishes.

Where to buy:

The Spice House

Penzey's

Flavor Bank

Whole Spice

The Burning Truth...about beets

Leave it to me to blab about a vegetable that's out of season. Or is it just coming into season? Beets, apparently, are not in season in northern California, at least according to Alice Waters' Chez Panisse Vegetables cookbook. I bet they're not in season in Kalamazoo, Michigan at the moment, either. Or, are they? Anyone?

All I know is that I can still get beets at our farmers' markets, so technically, they're still in season, at least in Arizona.

(I should know what's in season. I write for Edible Phoenix for cryin' out loud, and it clearly says in the Spring 2009 issue, on page 12, that beets are in season. Along with asparagus, fava beans and a dozen or so other vegetables.)

I love beets. Adore them. Especially pickled beets, like the candy sweet ones from Cotton Country Jams. But my hubby won't eat pickled beets.

Roasted beets, now that's a different story. He laps up roasted beets like a puppy with a bowl full of chow mix.

Here's how you roast beets: heat the oven to 375 degrees while you snip off the stalks, leaving about an inch above the beet (save the greens if you like braised beet greens).

Scrub-a-dub-dub the beets to get rid of any grit. Dry them. Put them on a sheet of heavy duty aluminum foil, drizzle with a good extra virgin olive oil and sprinkle with salt and pepper.

Wrap those babies up tight and place in the oven until they're tender, but not mushy, about an hour if they're on the large size.



Roasting beets is super simple, but there's a deep, dark secret that you need to know about.

They're only easy to peel when they're burning hot, straight out of the oven. Oh, you can wait five minutes, maybe, but if they cool too much, the skin doesn't want to part from the flesh.

I thought chilling them would create a little pocket, you know, between the skin and the flesh, like it does with roasted sweet potatoes.

Nope. Has the opposite effect, the coldness acts like glue.

So, here's what you need to do.

Get some plastic, disposable medical gloves. Grit your teeth, and dive in.

It won't take long, and it's worth it. All the beet flesh stays with the beet and the skins slip right off (with a little help from a paring knife).

Braised Leeks...

I want to love braised leeks, really I do. The French adore their les poireaux, which sound deliciously romantic in French, don't they? But then again, everything sounds sexy in French; especially if you say it slowly, as they do in the south of France.

Cervelles au beurre noir.

Calf's brains in brown butter. See?

The truth is, I'm in love with the idea of braised leeks, more than the actual leeks themselves.

Some of my favorite cookbooks include recipes for braised leeks: Julia Child's Mastering the Art of French Cooking, Alice Waters's Chez Panisse Vegetables, and Susan Spicer's Crescent City Cooking.

So why can't I fall over backwards for a dish of braised leeks? Or at least swoon a little at the thought.

Maybe I would change my mind if I just spent more time with them. So I did.

Here we go.

Simply braised leeks.



(Note: if you plan to serve the leeks as a side dish, count on 2 leeks per person.)

Cut off the root end and the dark green tops, keeping the light green portion. Cut in half and place under running water, fanning the layers to remove any grit trapped between the layers (or gnats, which I found a few in this batch --I love organic produce. You only need to worry when bugs don't want to eat your dinner) .

Place the leeks, cut side down, in a shallow sauce pan that's either buttered or swiped with olive oil. (You need some fat here. I wouldn't blink, or tattle, if you rubbed it with bacon fat.)

Pour in enough dry white wine to come up quarter of the way up the leeks. Using the smallest pan possible is key -- only if you want enough wine left over to drink.

Pour in enough chicken or vegetable stock to come up just over half way of the leeks. Sprinkle with fresh ground pepper.



Turn the heat to medium-high and bring the liquid to a boil. Reduce the heat to simmer, and cover with a lid, partially askew to allow some steam to escape.

Cook until the leeks are tender and the tip of a knife easily pierces through the leek, about 30-40 minutes, turning the leeks twice: once after 10 minutes and then again after another 10 minutes.



Now, for the best part -- a buttered, bread crumb topping.

Time to get that broiler heating. Place the leeks, in a single layer, in a shallow, oven-proof baking dish.

For each portion of leeks, mix two tablespoons of whole wheat bread crumbs (nutty flavor and ultimately crunchier texture) with one tablespoon of grated Parmigiano-Reggiano and toss with a tablespoon of melted butter.

Season with salt and pepper. You could also mix in some chopped fresh herbs if you have any.



Sprinkle the crumb topping over the leeks and place the leeks underneath the broiler until the crumb topping is dark brown and crispy, maybe a couple, three minutes, depending upon how close the heat source is to the leeks.

And there you have it. Tender, braised leeks, with a delicate, sweet, faintly onion flavor. Quite lovely.

After a late afternoon rendezvous, I get the allure: the tactile pleasure of cutting and cleaning leeks; the flittering, wispy aroma, happy to escape the sliver of a crack between the pan and lid. I can see myself making a whole roasting pan full. But still...



after all that, why do I still think of leeks as a seasoning and not a side dish?

Is something wrong with me because of my lack of overt passion for leeks?

Where did this indifference come from? Blame it on early American settlers who weren't in the least bit smitten with the leek.

Neither were early American cookbook authors, writing a couple hundred years after the Pilgrims landed, portraying leeks as a mere flavoring ingredient -- nothing special and certainly not worthy of serving alone.

When it comes to leeks, I rationalize I'm simply all-American.

Peach Pizza...

Do peaches really belong on top of pizza?

Fruit topped pizzas are not that unusual. The Hawaiian pizza is an innocuous combination of pineapple chunks and salty ham.

So when I spotted the peaches, chorizo and goat cheese pizza at a microbrewery, I thought, why not? There are probably more bizarre combination than that.

Let's just say that I'm glad I tasted it. Probably wouldn't order it again. But kudos to the chef for thinking outside the box. Way outside.

Top 10 Kitchen Tools

I couldn't very well post the worst kitchen gadgets without immediately coming clean on the best tools.

And notice I said top 10 "tools," not gadgets.

Because even if a couple of these are truly gadgets in the dictionary sense, they are so critical to a well-equipped kitchen that they've earned a promotion to tool status.

I've not mentioned any pots or pans on this list. Those deserve their own top 10 list, and I'll get around to that one day.

With the exception of one, none of these tools is considered a kitchen appliance, either, as that, too, deserves it's own list. Something like "Cool Kitchen Tools with Cords Attached."

Here are the top 10 kitchen tools that every serious cook should have:

(drum roll, please)

10. Hand held blender

So many tools could have taken this coveted 10th spot, but ultimately I decided on the blender stick. It purees sauces, both sweet and savory and soups and dips. It fits in a drawer, it's easy to store and even easier to clean.

9. Fish spatula

A fish spatula is wider at the tip than at the handle. It's thin and has slats. Not only does it flip delicate fillets without breaking them in two, it's perfect for flipping pancakes, potato cakes and pretty much anything else.



8. Wooden spoon

Why wooden? It works on non-stick surfaces. It's the best, sturdy tool to stir cookie dough. The only downside, if you consider it one, is that it must be hand washed. No dishwasher, unless you don't mind ruining it.

7. Ice cream scoop

Of course it works on ice cream, but it also can portion out muffin batter, cookie dough, meatballs and crab cakes so that each one is the same size as the previous one, which is only important if you want them to cook evenly, and perhaps look a little uniform.

6. Kitchen shears

From snipping herbs, cutting kitchen string and even poultry, shears are indispensable in the kitchen.

5. Microplane

This cool tool moved from the woodworking shop to the kitchen, and we've been grateful ever since. Grate citrus zest, ginger, Parmesan, and even chocolate.

4. Whisk

Get fluffier scrambled eggs with a whisk and fold in whipped cream or egg whites into batters with fewer strokes; this tool is also essential for smooth, lump-free sauces and gravies.

3. Serrated knife

It is the only knife that should touch bread.

2. Paring knife

For those tiny little jobs where a chef's knife is overkill, like slicing strawberries.

1. High quality chef's knife

If you had to chose only one tool, this is THE tool. Since it is the workhorse of the kitchen, you should invest in the best knife you can afford. Which one? That depends on you. Go to a knife shop and hold several. One of them will whisper your name. Buy it.

Top 10 Useless Kitchen Gadgets...

I'd share a picture of one of these contraptions, but I don't have one -- picture or contraption.

That's not to say I haven't had one or three of these "tools" in my kitchen at one time or another.

I have, but after discovering they were pretty much worthless, I donated them.

Why donate instead of toss? Because...

One cooks trash is another cook's treasure.

Even though I've found these doohickeys to be useless, that doesn't mean that someone else, who thinks their kitchen revolves around said items, is wrong. Unenlightened, perhaps, but definitely not wrong.

Teaching cooking classes in dozens of kitchen stores across the country has given me the opportunity to play with more clever-but-inane tools than you can shake a whisk at.

I love gadgets as much as the next cook, but the 10 items on this certifiably unscientific and utterly biased list, do not belong in the kitchen. At least not in mine.

Without further ado, here are the top 10 useless, and therefore don't-waste-your-money kitchen gadgets:

(drum roll, please...)




10. Grapefruit knife

The serrated edge is a good idea in theory, but it just tears the juice pockets. A paring knife works just as well.

9. Strawberry huller

It never works anyway, sometimes leaving bits of leaves behind, or worse, grabbing valuable flesh along with the core, which by the way, tastes just fine if the strawberry is at peak ripeness.

8. Asparagus peeler

Looks cool, but a regular peeler does the same job.

7. Spaghetti server

Tongs work just as well to grab and serve spaghetti. Save a slot in your drawer or utensil crock for another spatula or wooden spoon, both of which are much more versatile.

6. Hand held mini chopper

Never chops evenly. A chef's knife does a much better job.

5. Artichoke stand

Full disclosure: this is the only one on the list that I haven't personally tried, but seriously, a stand to set artichokes on for steaming? Must have been made by the same folks who made the vertical roasting stand for chickens, another gadget that belongs on this list.

4. Creme Brulee torch

Pul-leeze! Your arm will get tired before your sugar burns. Get yourself a real propane torch from Ace Hardware.

3. Avocado scoop

Always leaves behind the brightest green flesh, and I never seem to buy an avocado that's just the right size for this tool.

2. Egg separator

The best egg separator is attached to your arm.

1. Mango pitter

Good idea, bad execution. Every mango pit is different, so you either leave too much mango on the pit, or the pit is too large and the pitter gets stuck, so you end up making chunky mango puree from repeated attempts.

This I believe...

A baker I am not. The whole scientific process intimidates me.

I still shudder when I think about the impact salt can have on yeast.

Did you know that salt can kill yeast? That’s heavy! How do I keep salt and yeast separated long enough for the yeast to have a fighting chance?

I believe bakers are different from normal, everyday folks. Bakers are born with an innate ability to judge things that I cannot.

They know what the dough should look and feel like, and how high it should rise before punching it down. And by punching, do they mean actually hitting the dough with brute force?

A baker's vocabulary is a secret code with undulating terms such as proofing and scaling, creaming, foaming and of course, the muffin method. It’s a conspiracy.

Bakers know what’s missing after only one bite of a cake or bread. My talented, if militant, Chef instructor in beginning baking class, took one bite of my angel food cake and said, “You forgot to add vanilla, didn’t you?”

How did she know that?

I tasted it and didn’t notice vanilla was missing. It tasted like a sugary but dry sponge. It is a sixth sense that I, as a savory cook, do not have.

Testing the bread and pastry recipes for my cookbooks proved to be enormously rewarding for me, and perhaps I learned more than I thought I did during six weeks of baking and pastry classes during my culinary training.

If I can bake breads and cakes, anyone can. You do have to follow the directions, as the ingredient amounts and seemingly inane processes are developed for a specific purpose, like creating a chemical reaction that causes the bread to rise.

It’s not as free form as creating a sauce, which is driven entirely by taste and appearance. But baking has its sweet rewards.

The smell of freshly baked bread is outdone only by the first bite into a hot buttered slice of soft, yeasty bread.

It’s worth the stress of mixing, kneading and punching and keeping the peace between salt and yeast.

Recommended bread books:

The Bread Baker's Apprentice by Peter Reinhart

The Bread Bible by Rose Levy Beranbaum

Professional Baking, 5th Edition by Wayne Gisslen

Top Ten Dishes Best Left to the Restaurants

Just because you can make a dish in your home kitchen doesn't mean that you necessarily want

It might be because of the mess (deep frying) or the lengthy ingredient list (mole) or the whole production of it all.

Or, maybe you lack certain professional equipment (a grill that burns at 1,700 degrees, for instance).

And frankly, certain foods just taste better when made by a talented chef and his or her crew.

Bonus? No dishes to clean up.

Here's our list of the top 10 dishes best left in the hands of a capable restaurant -- and why:

1. French fries

Let us count the ways way. First, there's the mess. And then hassle of double frying to produce crisp spuds. We even know a chef who thrice cooks his fries. What to do with all the left over oil?

2. Egg rolls

Or any Chinese food, for that matter. Too many ingredients, too much assembly required and too much deep frying.

3. Sashimi

Sushi chefs know how to get fresh fish, know how to cut it and nobody gets hurt. Unless it's blowfish.

4. Souffles

When a souffle falls at home before it reaches the table, that's not the only thing that deflates.

5. Tamales

It takes a village to make a tamale. That's why Mexicans make tamales at home only on special occasions, like Christmas and the birth of a child.

6. Soft shell crabs

First there's the matter of cleaning them (removing their guts if we're gonna get graphic). And then that frying thing.

7. Foie gras

Not only is there the beige matter that's high on the ick factor (removing the membrane), most home cooks don't know what to do with a lobe of foie gras -- and it's rather expensive for experimentation.

8. Steak

One could argue that grilling a steak at home is one of life's simple pleasures. But isn't cutting into a juicy steak that's just come off a 1,700 degree grill is much more pleasurable? Oh yeah, especially if butter poaching prior to grilling is involved.

9. Pizza

Unless you have installed a umpteen-thousand dollar pizza oven in your back yard (and you know who you are, MG), re-creating wood-oven, artisan pizza is best left to the experts; like the one in Phoenix, the only pizza maker who's won a James Beard award for it.

10. Any dish from The French Laundry


Even if you wanted to, you probably couldn't. That is not a slam about your cooking skills. It is a testament to the general mystique of dining under Thomas Keller's roof. You've at least seen the cookbook, yes?

So, what's on your list of dishes best left to restaurants? Indian curries or tandoori? Turtle soup or gumbo? How about goat? to.

Trend Spotter: Agave Nectar

Tequila isn't the only byproduct of the agave cactus that chefs adore. Arizona's top toques have been sweetening dishes from appetizers to desserts with agave nectar for a while, and now other chefs (and cookbook authors) are catching on.

Kai, Arizona's only Mobil Five-Star restaurant, and Tonto Bar & Grill both use agave nectar extensively. That makes sense, as both restaurants focus on Native American and Southwestern cuisines, respectively. But chefs cooking all kinds of cuisines are also stocking up on the stuff.

For years, agave nectar was relegated to diet books and health magazines, but the fructose syrup has escaped the niche and is sweetening up restaurant menus and splashing the pages of cookbooks.

In fact, there is a cookbook devoted to baking with agave nectar called, shockingly, Baking with Agave Nectar. And Cal-Med goddess Joanne Weir trumps the desert syrup in her just released Tequila cookbook.

There are are two "strengths" of agave nectar. One is light, almost flavorless beyond the "sweet" flavor. The other is amber, which has a touch of flavor. Some say it tastes similar to honey, although agave nectar is not nearly as viscous as honey.

What's so great about agave nectar? Health experts still say it's "empty" calories, but if you're gonna load up on sugary sweets, agave nectar has some advantages.

For one, it's low on the glycemic index - it doesn't kick start digestive insulin like other types of sugars. And, because it's sweeter than sugar (1.4 times) you can use less of it.

But that's not why chefs use it. They use it because it dissolves quickly and it doesn't crystallize. And it's cool. As in hip.

Just for the halibut...

Because A. J.'s Fine Foods had halibut on sale for $15.99 a pound, I bit. Isn't that a gorgeous pound of fish?



And while I was there, I noticed some plump shiitake mushrooms, big ones, so now I was beginning to picture my Saturday evening dinner.



Grilled halibut, marinated in a sherry mustard vinaigrette with a shiitake ragout (just a fancy name for sauteed veggies). Oh, and don't forget the caramelized onions, garlic and fresh herbs from my garden.



All of it would sit atop fresh baby spinach, dressed in the same sherry vinaigrette I used to marinate the halibut.



I know you're supposed to whisk the vinegar and other flavorings together before you slowly drizzle in the olive oil in an effort to create an emulsion, but I like to use little glass jars I've saved.

I just put some whole grain mustard in the jar with some minced garlic, some thyme leaves, a little salt and pepper and a pinch of sugar. Always a little something sweet in my vinaigrettes, just to take the edge off.

I'll shake up the flavorings, and then I'll pour in a little oil and shake. A little more oil and another shake, and repeat until I've used all the oil. It might not create the most emulsified emulsion, but it works for me, and shaking is a whole lot more fun than whisking, don't you think? Pour a couple tablespoons over the halibut and give a little rub. It can sit at room temperature while you forge ahead.

Now caramelize the onions in a little olive oil. I was in a bit of a rush, so I turned up the heat, which is why the onions are caramelizing unevenly. Chef Hutchins, my saucier culinary instructor, would be mortified. We won't tell him.

Throw the mushrooms in when the onions are getting nice and caramelized. After the mushrooms are tender, you can stir in the garlic.

Once that's fragrant, then you can deglaze the pan with a little sherry. I like Dry Sack. You could just use the sherry vinegar, but that will add a bit of a twang.

OK, it's time to get that grill going. Medium-high heat for searing.

Now we need a little red for the dish. I scraped the mushroom mixture into a bowl and used the same pan to saute up some chopped grape tomatoes with the fresh herbs from my garden.

Pretty sure I'd be washing up the pan anyway, so why use another pan? For the record, those tomatoes wouldn't mind a little drink of sherry, either.

Now it's time to grill the halibut. I cut the original fillet in half. One end was monsterously thick, the other, just plain ole thick, so I knew one of them would be spending a little more time in the incubator.

I grilled them flesh side down, creating grill marks, for about 3 minutes. Then I turned them, skin side down, and turned off just the burner below them to finish cooking with indirect heat. It took about 8 more minutes for the thick one, and 10 minutes for the monster thick one. Then off the grill to rest a bit before plating.

Oh, I removed the skin before I put them on top of the salad. Actually, the grill removed them. The skin was stuck to the grill because I forgot to oil them. C'est la vie.

And so the final dish looks like this: Spinach salad with sherry mustard grilled halibut, topped with sherry glazed shiitake mushrooms and caramelized onions, with herbed grape tomatoes and orange segments.

Just because I had an orange and it was time to use it.

The whole dish took just about an hour from start to finish.

Easy-peasy.