I forgot to include Gomez’s bit about the daily soup—I know there’s a way to call it in French but frankly I am so pickled I don’t honestly care. Gomez ordered a side of this soup, a pumpkin concoction with all the spices with all the hoo-ha’s.

The most arty thing I've ever taken a pic of. Oh, by the way, this is delicious but too rich.

I do remember that that weird plushy thing you see off to the left of the soup is a housemade marshmallow. Frankly, that’s culinary moxie. I likes it. And where you would say “Anyone who likes to bake and etc. can make a homemade marshmallow”, I say to you: “This is true, but can you make one out of high percentage beer?”

No. No, you cannot.

Thanks. Leave your shame by the door.

Gomez rocks. Shpadoinkle.

Coasting off the heady fun evening of attending a performance of Cannibal! The Musical at Dad’s Garage with Will, I remembered—as I sit with a plastic tumbler of chardonnay (if you know anything about me, you know that plastic is better for Kali than glass) listening to Nirvana—I must report to you the review of Little Five Point’s newest neighborhood addition, The Porter. Matt #1 and Gomez and I met for lunch this past Friday; they were freshly off work and I was freshly—and probably stinkily—out of the gym. The Porter has been on my radar for the past few weeks and a bit before that; I like the idea of getting a really good meal and having a super extensive beer list to boot. I would not use the term “gastropub” for them; I would much prefer “beer bar” as it sounds more friendly and less snootypants.

The interior of The Porter, which I totally failed to take a picture of THIS TIME, is very warm. Lots of blonde wood, open lighting, and whilst I have read complaints about the luggage theme (hence the name of the bar), I have no idea what those people were prattling on about because it wasn’t intrusive and obvious to me.

Ginger Lemonade, the menu, and hush puppies.

Gomez is not a beer drinker, she never will be, and that’s why I love her—this is a lady who carries around champagne should the situation call for it—so she ordered the Ginger Lemonade. It’s a concoction of housemade lemonade, vodka, fresh ginger, and I think there was something else but I can’t remember.

In fact, I’d like to recount somewhat verbatim the conversation she had with our lovely waiter Chris regarding her drink order. (Any faults are my own, Gomez. Feel free to leave a comment correcting me.)

“Have you decided what you’d like?”

“How is the Ginger Lemonade?”

“Oooh, really great.”

“I’ll take it.”

“All right. Do you want the pint or the quart?”

one moment of hesitation. just one.

“I want the quart.”

I, on the other hand, ordered a nice pint of Left Hand Octoberfest, a nice full-bodied beer not too heavy for the weather.

Bacon, some cheese, what's not to love?

Before Matt #1 got there—he was being sloooow—Gomez and I split an appetizer of the Signature Hush Puppies because frankly we were starving and since there was now booze at the table, there had to be something to absorb the liquid love. Gomez and I were pretty much on the same page with this dish. Hush puppies are always a good thing, a Southern thing, but it would’ve been nice if the bacon flavor was more prevalent. We noticed slight bits of cheese; we liked that. Neither of us were too keen on the Fuji apple sauce served on the side, but I kept going for it because it did provide a pretty nice contrast. I don’t like saying I dislike something so the apple sauce is bit sweet for me but others probably dig it.

We promise you there are tomatoes under the arugula. Swear.

Matt #1 finally arrived; he had ordered the Allagash Black for a pint. It looked like…well, it looked like fermented oil; there were bubbles but it looked…evil and thick. Anyway, we ordered lunch. Gomez went for a two-fer; an appetizer and a small bowl of the daily soup. Above is her appetizer: fried green tomatoes with Sweet Grass chevre (that’s goat cheese for you plebs), pickled onions, arugula, and a grilled onion dressing. She pretty much kicked off the arugula—which is okay because I gladly ate it—and just ate the tomatoes, teasing a bit of the goat cheese along with it. She pronounced it delicious but as she has admitted that she thinks fried green tomatoes in any happenstance are delicious, we must be wary of her. I am not as a big fan of the fried green tomato as most people, but Gomez let me have a yummy taste.

Matt #1's sandwich.

Matt #1 ordered one of the daily specials: a sandwich with thinly sliced ham (there was a fancypants name for it, but I have forgotten it), pickled onions, fresh mozzarella, roasted red peppers. His side was a small arugula salad with marinated beets and a creamy dressing that I am at pains to describe. (I got the same thing too for my food so I won’t repeat it again.) He devoured it with great relish and declared it “fantastic.”

Not the best, but probably not the worst.

Before I dish about what I ate, I’d like to make a disclaimer. I am not a proper vegetarian. But then I am not a proper meat eater either. I don’t eat red meat, but if you’ve read this blog you know why. I am not some weird-ass militant PETA card-carrier, just someone who doesn’t enjoy the taste and texture of certain foods, raisins and red meat being amongst them.

That being said, I want to thank The Porter’s Chris for being honest with me.

I asked, because I have a benchmark and I HAVE to ask, what their veggie burger was like. Was it a frozen patty slapped onto a grill or was it like that wonderful delectable delight that the Righteous Room makes from hand which has never failed to please me? He said the former.

I accepted that and ordered it nonetheless. It was accompanied by pickled onions (there seems to be a theme, doesn’t there?), feta, charred onion mayo (which I could not discern) on tomato foccacia. It was fair.

I liked that it rang the bells a bit with the pickled onions and feta, but I must implore Kelly and her husband: give me a veggie burger that other half-assed, smart-assed, and tight-assed vegetarians scream for! So many chefs leave my like-minded bethren behind when it comes to vegetarian options. Being in Little Five, veggie options are your weekly bread-and-butter. But again, I am only a home cook and I like your establishment to come again….and again.

To finish out this fairly positive review…Matt #1 had the St. Bernardus before we left and loved it much more than the Allagash Black (he said the Allagash was too like the thickness of Guinness), I had another Left Hand Octoberfest  (which was still stout and fab), and of course, Gomez had chuckled and sipped the rest of her beverage. I like The Porter; I want The Porter to flourish even though I will not be able to be here for its…flourishing (okay, must stop sipping the chardonnay). But I plan on coming back if only to see if the chefs try something new with their menus or augment the one they have. I love the idea of having only a few mains, but if so, please change at least two of the mains.

You go, The Porter. Until I move to Canada in March, you’ve got my support.

Wow, guys, I feel so behind!

I think this is because I have taken no less than fourteen pictures of food and yet you guys have had nothing to read! Well, since the pie, and oh my, how can we forget about the pie? Anyway, the following are the two meals that I made last week.

Palatable, yes?

The asparagus casserole I made Tuesday was a so-so success. I augmented the recipe in that I used frozen asparagus instead of canned—canned veggies fill me with horror—but nonetheless, it took too long in the oven and really didn’t taste like much of anything at all. Admittedly, it was described as “pablum” but I always like the idea of cheese and breadcrumbs and asparagus.

Another view of the pablum

Asparagus Casserole

6 eggs

1/4 cup water

3 tbl. all-purpose flour

2 cups whole milk

1 cup grated cheddar cheese (I used Parmesan because that’s what I had on hand)

2 19-oz. cans asparagus, drained (I used 12 oz frozen asparagus prepped as per the package)

1/2 cup breadcrumbs

1 tbl. unsalted butter, room temperature

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Add water to cover eggs by at least 1 inch. Bring to a boil over high heat. Once at a boil, cover and remove from heat. Set aside for 10 minutes.  Drain and chill under cold running water. Peel and slice eggs. Set aside.

Combine the water and flour in a small bowl and stir until smooth. Place the milk in a medium saucepan. Add water-flour mixture to the milk and stir to combine. Turn the heat to medium high and bring to a boil, stirring constantly, until the sauce is thick enough to coat a spoon, about 7 minutes. Add cheese and season with salt and pepper. Keep warm over low heat.

In a large casserole dish, place one layer of asparagus. Top with three sliced eggs. Pour half the cheese sauce over eggs and asparagus. Top with another of remaining eggs and asparagus. Pour the remaining sauce over this layer. Sprinkle with bread crumbs on top of the mixture. Dot top with butter. Bake until golden brown, about 30 minutes.

Hearty and filling and good for you!

Baked potatoes are one of those things that I rarely make at home, but also rarely order out. The baked potato is such a staid mainstay that it’s easy to forget about it unless you’re at one of those high-class steakhouses where the simple vegetable becomes a lesson in decadence: sour cream, butter, chives, etc. But how about making it at home and making it healthy? Using the baked potato as a vehicle for other veggies and some meat.

(Oh yes, if you insist on some sort of dairy for dolloping, I recommend nonfat plain yogurt. It’s better than sour cream.)

Yes, it looks messy. It is.

Sloppy Turkey Spuds

2 large baking potatoes

12 oz. extra-lean ground turkey

1 medium onion, chopped

1 medium bell pepper, chopped

1 3/4 cup marinara sauce

1/4 tsp. fresh ground pepper

salt, optional

1/4 cup chopped fresh parsley

1/4 grated Parmesan cheese

Scrub potatoes under cold running tap water. Pat dry. Now the recipe recommends you microwave them, but if you have the time, I’d like to refer you here because Alton Brown knows all. I’ve never had any luck with microwaved potatoes so I’ll take the extra hour.

Cook turkey in large nonstick skillet over medium heat for about 6 minutes or until no longer pink. Add onion, bell pepper; cook, stirring, for about  3 minutes. Stir in marinara sauce. Bring to boil, reduce heat and cover and simmer for 10 minutes. Season with salt and pepper; stir in parsley, remove from heat. Split and fluff potatoes with a fork, top them with the turkey mixture and enjoy!

I’ve been cooking a lot more than usual these days; this is wonderful for me because the weather here in Atlanta is starting to turn and it means I want to be inside more, or outside when it’s cool enough. This past week I tackled making a pie and then made a super simple delicious healthy meal for my folks. (They’ve been in town for the past few days. They’re the best people ever.)

The LSC says he’s noticed that I’m really getting my groove on, baking-wise. I don’t know if this chocolate pie—heretofore known as “Happiness Pie”—really qualifies as baking, but it does qualify as dessert. The recipe was easy-peasy, and while I don’t always gravitate towards easy-peasy, I don’t mind knocking out a dessert that I can make on an idle afternoon. And before you wonder, no, I rarely keep the sweet stuff at the house; it usually goes to work for the workmates or, in this case, for my dad Jack’s wicked sweet tooth. Give the man a cup of coffee and a slice of pie and he’s happy.

All you need is love...I mean, ingredients.

And the reason why the LSC and I are calling it Happiness Pie can be fully explained here.

The only caveat I can give about the pie is that it called for the use of uncooked eggs. If you or anyone in your family are a bit squeamish or have compromised immune systems, please use pasteurized eggs. You can find them at any local store.

Marvel at its fudgy soul!

Happiness Pie

2/3 cup butter, room temperature

1 cup granulated sugar

3 eggs

2 squares unsweetened baking chocolate, chopped

1/3 cup semisweet chocolate chips

1 9-inch graham cracker crust

With an electric mixer (I don’t own one, so I was a tough girl and did it by hand), cream butter and sugar until light and smooth. Blend in eggs, one at a time, stirring well after each addition. Melt both chocolates in the microwave until almost melted and stir until completely melted and smooth. Drizzle into butter mixture until completely combined. Scrape down bowl and beat to incorporate ingredients. Pour into crust and chill for 3 to 4 hours.

So basically you're eating frosting.

Onward to savory! My parents love it when I cook for them and really I love to cook for anyone. But my mom and I are both fairly conscious of what we eat, yet we aren’t dieters.

The following recipe is perfect for a light lunch or a light dinner. You can eat it with crackers or you can put it on some mixed greens for extra nutrition. It may be the last of the summer-type recipes on the blog for a while, but you never know because heavier foods may send me over the edge in a few months. Ah, savory and sweet, they surely can’t be beat!

Colorful salad on a colorful plate!

Tuna-Chickpea Salad

2 6 oz. cans tuna packed in water, drained

1 15 oz. can chickpeas or white beans, rinsed and drained

1 cup cherry tomatoes, quartered

1 green, red or yellow pepper, seeded and chopped

1/3 to 1/2 cup balsamic vinaigrette

In a serving bowl, flake tuna. Add chickpeas, tomatoes, bell pepper and 1/3 cup dressing. Stir to combine. Season with salt and pepper and add more vinaigrette, if necessary.

Oh my god, you have no idea how many times I’ve effed up risotto.

About four or five years ago, with my love of risotto being nourished at some fine restaurants here in Atlanta—okay, really one restaurant—I had resolved to achieve it for my own pleasure at home. Noble enough, yes? I mean, for God’s sake, who doesn’t want that creamy delectable arborio goodness bursting on the tongue as you sit at your retro kitchen table, closing your eyes, thinking “This is what Heaven tastes like every night at the Vegas-like buffet”?

Yes, well, not as simple, apparently. I attempted no less than two risottos from the famous and familiar ladies from the Silver Palate. A spring primavera one and other meatier one, and all fell flat.

The rice never reached al dente stage; it remained resolutely chalky in the center and frankly, I’m willing to put up with much, but that kind of rice is bloody inedible. Nothing can save it. I was dumbfounded; I followed the techniques to the letter, I did everything that Sheila Lukins and party told me to do to get this piece of carbo-nirvana for myself. Yet I failed.

Then came Mario bloody Batali. He had done a recipe for the NYT that said that most blasphemous of all edicts involving risotto: you really don’t have to stir it all the damn time. About once every couple of minutes will do. And you know what, that fantastic orange-clog-wearing dude was right.

It doesn’t have to be. You have to be patient, yes, but you don’t have to be anal.

I'm still workin' on those picture takin' skillz.

So all those risotto recipes that require you to stir and stir, standing exhausted and anxious at the stove, waiting for the stock to soak up before you add another ladle of broth, I say to you: don’t. Trust Mario because I now trust him.

This makes the second of risottos I’ve made using his advice and let me tell you, each one has come out perfect and worthy of song and praise and little cherubs with harps that flitter around the head. Seriously, even if you do this for yourself or for yourself and a loved one or for a dinner party, you will be much much happier.

There is a caveat about the following recipe, though. It called for grilled mushrooms marinated in  garlic, wine, and red wine vinegar. And despite my dislike for the fungus, I was going to try it anyway. But then as I perused the aisles of Trader Joe’s, I realized that I hated to spend money on an ingredient I wasn’t entirely sure I would like so it seemed like a waste.

But then I thought of something better that I DID like.

There used to be this restaurant in East Atlanta called Heaping Bowl; this establishment used to offer, as a dish, a “heaping” (har har) bowl of mashed potatoes topped with a prodigious list of toppings. Caramelized onions were one of them—as well as bacon, chicken, faux-chicken, sundried tomatoes, etc. I used to get a bowl of potatoes with those lovely onions and sour cream. A carb coma for sure, but honestly one of the most wonderful things I’ve ever eaten. It went belly-up for some reason years ago and I’d always thought about recreating the dish I’d loved, but I never got around to it. But I thought about recreating caramelized onions with another dish I adore as well: risotto.

You can find an easy primer on caramelized onions here. Imagine this topping a bowl of creamy rice with a sprinkling of Parmesan and you can hear yourself saying: “Gabe, baby, does Heaven always have this? Because if it does, I’m glad you’ve got me for eternity.” Before I give you the recipe, I want you to know that there’s even easier ways to achieving a perfect moment of time that doesn’t require your passing. Imagine an early fall evening, all the windows open to let in that tease of cool-ish air. You cooking and tasting and checking on your risotto, a tumbler of red wine in your hand, sipping, savoring. The cats (or dogs or ferrets or hedgies, whatever) happy and content too. There is some Julie London or Etta James in the background; life is ideal.

Enjoy.

So good and so worth YOU.

Red Wine Risotto

3 Tbl. EVOO (shut up! I’m lazy right now.)

2 shallots, finely chopped

3 cloves of garlic, minced

4 branches fresh thyme

1/2 cup dry red wine (I recommend a peppery cabernet)

salt and pepper to taste

5 cups veggie/chicken stock (your choice)

1 1/2 cups arborio rice

grated parmesan to serve

caramelized onions (optional)

Heat oil in a large heavy saucepan. Add shallots, thyme, garlic. Saute over medium heat until everything is soft, probably about four to five minutes. Stir in rice and cook two or three minutes; you’ll know because the rice starts to take on a translucent color. Stir in the remaining wine and cook until nearly gone, about 2 minutes. Add stock about 1/2 cup at a time. For the first ten minutes, every two minutes, stir the broth is gone. Keep ladling out stock a 1/2 cup at time…stir every three minutes until the stock is gone. Keep doing this until you taste the rice. When the rice is al dente, then you’re done. There is no exact science but when the rice hits your tasting tooth…perfect.

When the risotto is how you like, divvy it up, sprinkle with Parmesan, top it with the caramelized onions (optional), and enjoy!

And that is how to make biscuits. It’s not like we haven’t seen our grandmothers, mothers, aunts, and great-grandmothers do this many times throughout our lives. It’s not as though we haven’t munched on raw biscuit dough when their backs were turned to slide another delicious batch of buttery flaky goodness into the oven. (Okay, that might just be me.) I think the only reason I never attempted before was because biscuits seemed so time-consuming and if you live in a large city, there’s bound to be somewhere out there that has a really good biscuit on their breakfast/brunch menu. (And though I am lazy, biscuits DO NOT come from a cylindrical can nor a grocer’s freezer.)

But I digress.

What dough looks like.

I found a really simple (yet somehow complicated) recipe from Atlanta’s famed Southern chef, Scott Peacock.

I’ve had dinner at his restaurant before and it was lovely; it’s one of those places you should take your family or loved ones because it’s Southern food done elegantly yet authentically. In any case, having the day off, I tried to follow his recipe because, frankly, I wanted to see if I could do it. It meant turning my large counter into a Winter Wonderland of flour but I had to. I do not yet own a cutting board large enough for an undertaking such as this. Making homemade biscuits means something I can be proud of, but pride often causes a fall.

Little soldiers all lined up in a row....for the killing oven.

In fact, Scott’s recipe is so much more elaborate than my usual song-and-dance that I will gladly refer you to it here.

And now…the moment you’ve all been waiting for. The results of a half-hour’s worth of work and anxiety.

They're my first try but sure not my last.

They didn’t really rise. Nor really turn golden brown (except for their bottoms). I can immediately tell what I did wrong, though. Scott highly recommends using biscuit cutters NOT juice glasses because the glasses create a suction and you have to twist to get them out, thus sealing the edge of the biscuits and preventing its glorious rise to fluffiness. Guess what I said? “Screw you, Peacock, I’m not shelling out $20 or more for some namby-pamby Williams-Sonoma kitchen utensil! Hand me my juice glass!!”

Now I say: “Excuse me, Mister Peacock, may I see your copy of the 2009 Williams-Sonoma catalog? Thanks.”

My second error was not using a large enough nor heavy enough cookie sheet. I got the parchment paper bit right, but that doesn’t make up for a nice sturdy cookie sheet designed to withstand the 500-degree oven these babies need.

Regardless, this is my first try. There will be others because there are cream biscuits, sweet cream biscuits (perfect for shortcakes, I hear), and these traditional guys again. I am proud to at least embrace my Southern heritage. And on the other hand I am glad I am not marrying a fellow Southern man because while these biscuits are still tasty (a little gummier than they should be but that’s the rising dough thing again), they would disqualify me from gettin’ hitched.