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“How wonderful a friendship that can survive a biography,” said chef Julia Child of her biographer, Noël Riley Fitch, the only writer authorized to write Child’s biography. On Tuesday, Fitch spoke to Dartmouth students, faculty and community members about her her personal memories of Child and the chef’s revolutionary contributions to American culture.
Starting this week, King Arthur Flour’s Baker-Berry cafe will revamp its menu to include additional lunch offerings. However, KAF sandwiches will never return, due to space and shipping concerns, retail and cafe operations director Kelly Mousley said.
Students in Hanover for summer term will have one less DDS location to choose from. Courtyard Cafe will be closed this term, as it typically has been for the past few summers.
I promised in my first Off-Campus Kitchen column I'd teach you how to make roast duck breast with fig sauce, and today, for my last column, I will! I'm about to graduate, so I wanted to leave you with the best meal I know how to cook. The savory flavor of the duck pairs so well with the rich sweetness of the figs, and there's nothing more succulent than the texture of medium-rare duck breast.
May this recipe serve you well (see what I did there?)
I briefly considered writing a recipe for "Green Quiche" to coordinate with the past weekend's revelries, but the thought of the custardy texture of quiche gleaming green was enough to turn my stomach and dissuade me. Instead, when at the co-op searching for something Ihadn'tgrilled in the past few days —which discounted hot dogs, sausages, chicken breast, chicken wings, shrimp, corn, zucchini, peppers, onion, pineapple, and burgers of the beef, turkey and veggie varieties—the robust tuna steak called to me. It's excellent served on a bed of fresh, spicy arugula, with caprese salad to complete the summery meal.
So, what to do with that box of strawberries you bought at the Hop for $8.25? (By the way, what are they, magic strawberries? You can get them at the Co-op for 1/3 the price—what are you thinking, DDS?)
My thesis is nearly done and I've decided it's grilling season. This past weekend, a friend and I trekked up to my extended family's place in rural Vermont for a day of wandering the fields in the spring sun. We finished off the afternoon with amazing marinated shish kebabs, which we grilled outside while showcasing our dismal frisbee skills.
I think we can all agree that it’s finally sundress season again, and anticipating summer puts me in the mood for seafood. But despite the deliciousness of the giant slab of salmon a friend of mine smoked and barbequed last weekend, good quality, sustainably sourced fish can get expensive.
I had never gone to a Cabin and Trail meeting or on one of their outdoor excursions before last Wednesday. Yet I cannot remember the last time I felt so outside.
In the wake of my first-ever academic conference and facing my looming thesis deadline, I’ve abandoned last week’s attempt at healthiness. Instead, I made the most decadent dessert on my mind: salted caramel brownies, entirely from scratch. And I do mean from scratch. It turns out that making your own caramel — starting with just sugar and water — is both easy and delicious. I’ll never buy caramel again.
On Sunday, I scrounged up a few friends and a few more dollars in order to check out Pine, the Hanover Inn’s newly updated restaurant. Between the three of us, our dietary restrictions encompassed pescatarianism, gluten intolerance and a nut allergy, but we were ready to take our chances and make the best experience possible out of our restaurant adventure.
I couldn't make it to the Co-op this week as I am sick as a dog. Also, I haven't had much time to exercise. Therefore, when I found myself debating between posting about a “healthy dinner” versus, say, salted-caramel brownies, the former seemed like a wiser choice. I whipped this together using the quinoa I always keep in my pantry, some leftover greens (the asparagus from last week, bok choy) and some supplemental ingredients from Collis (spinach, plus anything else you're inspired to add). I also tried making quinoa risotto-style. It's not incredibly different from regular quinoa — perhaps a bit softer, and creamier if you add the half-and-half. I would have garnished the dish with pine nuts and mint leaves if I had them. I thought it might be cute, but apparently 'cute' isn't the main criterion for what Collis keeps at the salad bar.
The idea for this week's post came from a challenge I set myself. I've had the busiest of weeks, with the result that I ate a lot of Kraft Easy Mac. My mother, my foodie friends and my doctor would cringe to learn how much. So I asked myself if I could make a party appetizer or study snack that was more sophisticated and used in-season produce, but took the same amount of time and skill.
I spent Easter weekend with my extended family in rural Vermont. There's nothing like my aunt's cooking to give me a respite from campus, and nothing like being off-the-grid for resetting my Dartmouth priorities. My cousin came home Saturday to report that his friend had spent the afternoon making his own maple syrup, from trees on his Vermont property. Making maple syrup involves boiling down the sap of the maple tree — check out the sugaring operation at Dartmouth's own organic farm if you're intrigued by the idea. Anyway, the friend sent along a Ball jar full of fresh maple syrup with a proposition that he come by the following morning to taste my aunt's homemade pancakes, drizzled with his homemade syrup. My aunt agreed, so we woke up Easter morning to these delicious made-from-scratch pancakes graced with syrup made literally the day before.
Perhaps you can't replicate the absolute freshness of the syrup in your dorm, but you can try making pancakes from scratch. Writing that I prefer to make things from scratch is a given at this point in the column, but as I've said many times before, I tend to think made-from-scratch tastes better and, although more time consuming, gives me more of a sense of connection to my food.
I'll also note that my aunt keeps things lactose-free; although I've modified her recipe to include milk and butter, you can substitute them with almond milk and oil, which I can testify is delicious.
2 cups milk
6 tablespoons melted butter (allow to cool a bit after melting, so the butter doesn't start to cook the eggs)
2 tablespoons vanilla extract (optional)
3 cups flour
5 tablespoons sugar (preferably powdered, so it dissolves faster)
1 tablespoon baking powder
1/2 tsp salt (omit if you have salted butter)
For the pan: additional 3 tablespoons butter
1. Mix wet ingredients and dry ingredients separately. In this state you can make the batter ahead of time, but as soon as you combine wet and dry ingredients, it's a ticking clock for the fluffiness of your pancakes.
2. Melt additional butter on griddle or skillet over the stove, on medium heat. Ensure the butter is well-distributed over the cooking surface.
3. Scoop about 1/4 cup batter at a time onto the skillet. Cook each pancake on one side for about two minutes, or until pockmarks form on the exposed batter surface. Flip and cook for about another minute. My aunt's trick is to judge “done-ness” from the steam that rises from each pancake — the amount of steam will taper off as the pancake uses up interior moisture, becoming more cooked.
5. Optional: If you have large metal cookie molds, you can pour the batter into them to make shaped pancakes, as shown in the photo. Just be sure to remove the mold after the first minute or less of cooking; if you leave it for too long, the pancake will cook onto the mold and become difficult to extract.
Serve with desired condiments — I like fresh Vermont maple syrup and butter.
I’m leaving the quantities large so as to facilitate making a meal for a big group, be it a club, camping buddies, your dorm, etc., but you can reduce them to make an easy and healthy dinner for yourself and a few friends. Experiment with seasoning; without any red pepper flakes, the dish will please picky eaters and mild palates, while with added pepper, it becomes more interesting to the adventurous diner.
The first time I had mussels, I was about five years old, vacationing with my family in Maine. We rowed a boat out to Captain Kidd, a tiny island off the coast in Frenchman Bay. We gathered seaweed and mussels right off the rocks, rowing back to shore in time for my aunt to steam our findings into a delicious lunch.
What I had in the fridge? Beef (cut for stir-fry), half-and-half, a block of cheese and butter (this bodes well for my arteries). What I needed? A meal idea that I could throw together for the Valentine’s Day cooking date for which my boyfriend’s arrival was imminent. Clearly, I’m excellent at planning ahead. (It’s winter in Hanover — how am I expected to get to the Co-op without dying of frostbite?)
You’re hungover. You’re feeling sorry for yourself. You’re feeling sorry for your roommate’s boyfriend, who has a violent stomach flu that prevents him from leaving your bathroom for the next 32 hours. True story.
Roasting your first chicken is a culinary rite of passage — or at least it was for me. Roasting a chicken made me feel like an adult feeding a family, only the family in question was my motley group of friends. Once the fear of your first time is gone (make all the jokes you like), you suddenly feel capable of anything. Capable of roasting any kind of poultry, that is.
I’m not really sure what all the fuss is about, but apparently there’s some football game happening during the Beyoncé concert this Sunday…