Homer on beer

"Beer. Now there's a temporary solution."

Homer Simpson, in an episode of "The Simpsons."

Wise words. The man must have been named Homer for a reason.

(The photo is from the Associated Press.)

The White House drinks

I find it hard to believe Pres. Obama actually likes Budweiser. It seems to me he has better taste than that. I suppose politics, however, demands everyday beer.

Among the highlights from a Slate piece on beer profiling and beer diplomacy:

"When Obama announced that he would have a Budweiser on Thursday night, it suggested he was going for the most regular-guy brand he could find. (It sells for about $6.50 for a six-pack.) But it turns out that the cop likes the same kind of fancy beer the professor does: He's having a Blue Moon, a Belgian-Style witbier ($7 to $9 a six-pack), while Gates is having a Red Stripe ($7) or Becks ($8). Upon this affinity for upmarket beers may be built a towering reconciliation."

The thing is: If the president, the police officer and the professor are drinking beer together, shouldn't they drink the same beer?

Fruit bliss

In addition to bananas, which I always seem to have, there are plums and nectarines in the kitchen.

There are pluots - a plum and apricot hybrid - I have been meaning to taste. Three-parts plum, one-part apricot. Not to be confused with apriums - three-parts apricot, one-part plum.

There are white peaches and yellow peaches. There are kiwis from New Zealand.

In the refrigerator, there is cantaloupe and pineapple cut into chunks. There are pints of blueberries. There is a bag of cherries from Washington and a flat of strawberries from Watsonville.

This, I learn to appreciate, is Northern California in the middle of the summer. Pure fruit bliss.

Salad days

Just when I remind myself to eat more vegetables, Mark Bittman comes up with 101 ways in The New York Times for me to do exactly that.

His are simple suggestions.

The question then: Should I start at the top of the list and work my way down? Or should I select dishes randomly depending on mood and availability?

Perhaps the more important question, however: If there is salad for dinner, will there be cake for dessert?

Bob's Big pie

A morning spent in the Mojave Desert is reason enough for a visit to Bob's Big Boy on the return.

It is my first time at the original Bob's on Riverside Drive in Burbank. It is an opportunity for onion rings and milkshakes in the early afternoon. And one tremendously red strawberry pie.

I cut four slices for the table and pack the rest for later.

Pulling pork

Honestly, I have only used the OXO potato masher for potatoes. Until now.

Now, I realize the tool, with its terrific ergonomic grip, works equally well in pulling pork. That is to say, I can use it also to shred the pork in this stovetop recipe.

Since I do not have bread rolls, I think I will toast some Thomas' English muffins instead.

I cannot decide, however, whether to eat the sandwich opened, with a knife and fork, or closed, with my hands. If I have it opened, the meal will seem fancier. If I have it closed, I can lick sweet sauce from my fingers.

Pulled Pork

1 3 1/2- to 4-lb. boneless pork roast, cut into chunks and trimmed of fat
1 large yellow onion, diced
1 Tbsp. olive oil
1 cup orange juice
1/2 cup ketchup
3 Tbsp. brown sugar
3 Tbsp. red wine vinegar
2 1/2 Tbsp. Worcestershire sauce
1 tsp. liquid smoke
1/2 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. freshly ground black pepper
3 cloves garlic, minced
6 to 8 sandwich rolls

Heat olive oil in a large pan or Dutch oven over medium-high heat. Cook the pork and onions for 5 minutes, stirring occasionally.

In a bowl, combine the orange juice, ketchup, brown sugar, red wine vinegar, Worcestershire sauce, liquid smoke, salt, pepper and minced garlic.

Add this mixture to the pan or Dutch oven, and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat and simmer, covered, for 1 hour.

Cook, uncovered, for an additional 30 minutes over medium-low heat, or until most of the liquid has evaporated.

Shred the pork with a couple of forks or a potato masher. Serve on warm bread rolls. Makes 6 to 8 sandwiches.

Peach love

"The Mackinaw peaches, Jerry, the Mackinaw peaches! I waited all year. Oh, this is fantastic! Makes your taste buds come alive. It's like having a circus in your mouth!"

Kramer, praising the fictional Mackinaw peach on an episode of "Seinfeld."

Remember the time

"So I went over to his house to have dinner. The chef came out and said, 'What would you like?'

"I said, 'Some grilled chicken.'

"So as we begin to talk about the video and what he wanted me to do, the chef brought me out the grilled chicken. But he brought Michael out a bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken.

"And I went crazy, like, 'Wait a minute! Michael, you eat Kentucky Fried Chicken?'

"That made my day. That was the greatest moment of my life. We had such a good time sitting on the floor, eating that bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken."

Magic Johnson, on working on the video for "Remember the Time," speaking at the memorial service for Michael Jackson.

Apple pie and the Fourth of July

John T. Edge gives the classic its due in this breezy and informative read. One in a series of books on beloved food items, including fried chicken, hamburgers and French fries, and doughnuts, "Apple Pie: An American Story" looks at the history and folklore of an iconic dessert, from its English origins in the 14th century to its current status among food fans across the United States.

From Oxford, Miss., where he directs the Southern Foodways Alliance at the University of Mississippi, Edge travels to Washington state, where "growers harvest more than fifteen billion apples each year." That is a whole lot of pie.

The author also heads to the Midwest and Southwest. In Iowa City, he checks out the Hamburg Inn, an old-school diner that serves apple-pie shakes. "Chock-full of crust fragments and crushed apple slices, the shake calls to mind a better class of Dairy Queen Blizzard," he writes. In Albuquerque, New Mexico, he spends time at Señor Pie, tasting "apple pies spiked with fiery green chiles."

In Florida, though, Edge runs into "the dark side of pie." A judge in the National Pie Championships, held during the Great American Pie Festival in Celebration, Florida, he finds representatives from Sara Lee, Entenmann's, and Mrs. Smith's "pimping freezer-case pies." He watches children make pastry dough from scratch, only to later use canned pie filling. He worries about our culinary future.

(A version of this review appeared originally on www.culinate.com.)

Weekend cobbler

"There are two types of people in this world: those who like pie and those who prefer cobbler," Cory Schreiber and Julie Richardson write in "Rustic Fruit Desserts: Crumbles, Buckles, Cobblers, Pandowdies, and More."

Me? I like them both. Hesitant to prepare pie crust from scratch, however, I tend to make cobbler, incorporating fruits I have in the house at the time. This weekend, there are apricots.

The recipe, from Schreiber and Richardson's cookbook, calls for raspberries as well. I substitute frozen blackberries. I also decrease the amount of sugar for the filling. If I am lucky, the fruits should be sweet enough on their own.

Apricot Raspberry Cobbler

1 Tbsp. unsalted butter, at room temperature, for dish

fruit filling:

10 apricots, pitted and each sliced into 8 to 10 pieces
2 cups raspberries, fresh or frozen
3/4 cup granulated sugar
1/2 tsp. fine sea salt

batter:

1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
2 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. fine sea salt
6 Tbsp. unsalted butter, at room temperature
3/4 cup granulated sugar
3/4 cup whole milk
1 Tbsp. turbinado sugar

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees F. Butter a 2-quart baking dish.

To make the fruit filling, toss the apricots and raspberries with the sugar and salt in a bowl and set aside to draw out some of the juices while you prepare the batter.

To make the batter, sift together the flour, baking powder, and salt in a bowl. Using a handheld mixer with beaters or a stand mixer with the paddle attachment, cream the butter and granulated sugar together on medium-high speed for 3 to 5 minutes, until light and fluffy. Stir in the flour mixture in three additions alternating with the milk in two additions, beginning and ending with the dry ingredients and scraping down the sides of the bowl occasionally.

Spread the batter evenly in the prepared pan and distribute the fruit over the batter, being sure to scrape the bowl well. Sprinkle the turbinado sugar over the top.

Bake in the bottom third of the oven for about 45 minutes, or until the center of the cake springs back when lightly touched. Cool 20 to 30 minutes before serving.

Storage: This cobbler is best if eaten the day it is made. Any leftovers can be covered with a tea towel to be finished for breakfast. Reheat in a 300 degree F oven until warmed through. Makes 8 to 10 servings.

Red, hot and blue

Everywhere I turn, there is red, white and blue. In the stores. On paper goods. On cakes and cupcakes. On balloons, banners and cotton tees... Though I have yet to determine a Fourth of July menu, it could include presidential chili from the Obamas, some sort of fruit cobbler and IT'S-ITS.

The Obama Family Chili Recipe

1 large onion, chopped
1 green pepper, chopped
several cloves of garlic, chopped
1 Tbsp. olive oil
1 lb. ground turkey or beef
1/4 tsp. ground cumin
1/4 tsp. ground oregano
1/4 tsp. ground turmeric
1/4 tsp. ground basil
1 Tbsp. chili powder
3 Tbsp. red wine vinegar
several tomatoes, depending on size, chopped
1 15-ounce can red kidney beans

Sauté onions, green pepper and garlic in olive oil until soft. Add ground meat and brown. Combine spices together into a mixture, then add to ground meat. Add red wine vinegar. Add tomatoes and let simmer, until tomatoes cook down. Add kidney beans and cook for a few more minutes.

Scoop over white or brown rice. Garnish with grated cheddar cheese, onions and sour cream. Makes 4 to 6 servings.

Like butter

As it turns out, I have a copy of "Body of Life," from inaugural poet Elizabeth Alexander. The collection was published by Tia Chucha Press in Chicago.

As it turns out, I also have a copy of "Kings of the Hill: How Nine Powerful Men Changed the Course of American History," written by Richard B. Cheney and Lynne V. Cheney. Who knew?

I pull the first book out of the brown cardboard box to read more thoroughly in the future. I put the second book back into storage.

Butter

My mother loves butter more than I do,
more than anyone. She pulls chunks off
the stick and eats it plain, explaining
cream spun around into butter! Growing up
we ate turkey cutlets sautéed in lemon
and butter, butter and cheese on green noodles,
butter melting in small pools in the hearts
of Yorkshire puddings, butter better
than gravy staining white rice yellow,
butter glazing corn in slipping squares,
butter the lava in white volcanoes
of hominy grits, butter softening
in a white bowl to be creamed with white
sugar, butter disappearing into
whipped sweet potatoes, with pineapple,
butter melted and curdy to pour
over pancakes, butter licked off the plate
with warm Alaga syrup. When I picture
the good old days I am grinning greasy
with my brother, having watched the tiger
chase his tail and turn to butter. We are
Mumbo and Jumbo's children despite
historical revision, despite
our parent's efforts, glowing from the inside
out, one hundred megawatts of butter.

Elizabeth Alexander, in the poetry collection "Body of Life."

Her father eats

"Dad ate all his meals with vigor and passion, as if each were his last. He hated eating in a hurry as much as his father despised overcooked meat. Instead, Dad lingered over every sip of wine or bite of food throughout the duration of a meal. He paused between bites, resting his chopsticks across his rice bowl as he decided which delicacy he would taste next. Dad admired the whole meal placed in front of him and then studied each dish, appreciating its appearance and aroma. He may have eaten a dish a hundred times, but he approached each meal anew, as if he had never before tasted what lay in front of him."

Linda Furiya, in "Bento Box in the Heartland: My Japanese Girlhood in Whitebread America."

Simple and seasonal

With apricots from the market and sour cream in the refrigerator to use up, I decide to make coffeecake. If I have plums or peaches, I could use those as well. I need something simple and seasonal.

Spongy and mildly fragrant, the coffeecake does not disappoint. Thankfully. It looks lovely coming out of the oven. I grab a mug for a caffeine kick, and sit down at the table to cut a slice.

Apricot Coffeecake

8 medium apricots
cooking spray
2 cups all-purpose flour
1 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. salt
1/4 cup canola oil
1 cup sugar
2 tsp. vanilla extract
1 large egg
1 large egg white
1 cup sour cream

Rinse and dry the apricots. Cut them in half and discard the pits. Set aside. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Coat a 9- by 12-inch Pyrex pan with nonstick cooking spray. Set aside.

In a medium bowl, whisk together the all-purpose flour, baking soda, baking powder and salt. Set aside.

In the bowl of an electric mixer, combine the canola oil and sugar. Beat. Add the vanilla extract, egg and egg white. Beat on a medium speed until smooth. Alternate portions of flour and sour cream into the wet mixture. Mix until just combined.

Pour batter into the Pyrex pan and spread evenly. Top it with the apricot halves, cut sides up. Bake 30 to 35 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. Makes 15 or 16 servings.

Wasting eggs

The lime tart is an abysmal failure, a gooey, sticky pie-plate of a mess I wind up scraping into the trash. It is a waste of time and energy. It is a waste of eggs.

The recipe, which I also toss away, calls for a cup of sugar. For some reason, however, I think it asks for two. One forkful of filling and I can feel my teeth fall out. It is much too sweet. My dentist would not approve.

Food for thought

"We only have three meals a day. I hate to waste one."

Michael Pollan, author of "The Omnivore's Dilemma: A Natural History of Four Meals," in an interview last year with the San Francisco Chronicle.


And so I think often about what to eat: the vanilla yogurt in the refrigerator, the rhubarb cooked down with sugar and orange juice, the granola. I think about what to drink. Do I want coffee, the first sip that goes down warm and smooth?

I think about what to have for lunch. Leftover rice or pasta? Salad, soup or a sandwich? I wonder if I will get five servings of fruits and vegetables; there is that mango on the counter ripening nicely. I think about what to prepare for dinner as well, how to shop and chop and braise. I do all this before I make it out of bed.

Alien cupcake

I see the oddest thing in front of an office building in the Silicon Valley. So odd, in fact, I have to pull into the parking lot, get out of the car and take a picture.

The hole truth

John T. Edge pays attention to familiar foods. In "Donuts: An American Passion," he charts our often guilt-ridden love affair with these deep-fried classics.

Digging into the folklore and history of the doughnut, he visits mom-and-pop businesses as well as franchises such as Krispy Kreme and Dunkin' Donuts. He feeds our incessant sugar cravings. Director of the Southern Foodways Alliance at the University of Mississippi in Oxford, Miss., he provides both useful facts and intriguing trivia.

Among our favorite bites:

- In the mid-1820s, the term "dough nuts" showed up regularly in American cookbooks. By the early 1870s, "doughnuts" became standard. Hoping to venture into international markets, and to "obviate difficulty in pronouncing 'doughnuts' in foreign languages," the New York-based (though ironically named) Doughnut Machine Corporation began to popularize the word "donuts" in the 1920s.

- At Moto restaurant in Chicago, innovative chef Homaro Cantu likes to play with his food. On his dessert menu at one point: doughnut soup.

- Maybe it was an American Indian who accidentally pierced a fry cake with a bow and arrow. Or a sea captain in Maine, caught in a turbulent swell, who "impaled his fry cake on the ship's wheel to save the goodie for later." Or...

To settle "The Great Donut Debate," the one about the hole, celebrity judges entertained arguments in a New York City hotel ballroom in 1941. The story they eventually selected: That same sea captain, in 1847, watching his mother in the kitchen make fry cakes when he was a boy, "asked her why the centers were so soggy." She told him she didn't know; for some reason, they never got cooked. So he poked out the centers with a fork, creating "the first 'ring' doughnuts."

- Tres Shannon and Kenneth "Cat Daddy" Pogson cater primarily to night owls at Voodoo Doughnut in Portland, Ore. Their neighborhood shop gets going when many of us have settled down for the evening. They dish out items such as Grape Apes, doughnuts "sprinkled with powdered grape drink mix," and Dirty Snowballs, cream-filled chocolate cake donuts "slathered with pink marshmallow frosting." The two of them work with an ordained minister, too, should the marital bug bite customers in the pre-dawn hours.

- Dusted liberally with confectioners' sugar, beignets are classic New Orleans fare. Also good, but often overshadowed in Southern food lore, calas are "roundish fritters of rice and yeast, eggs and sugar and spices." Creole women originally sold them on the streets in the early 1900s.

- At the Donut Man in Glendora, east of Los Angeles, Jim Nakano offers the ultimate fruit filling. When California strawberries are in season, he takes five or six of them, dips them in a glaze and piles them onto "(clamshells) of fresh fried dough." In the middle of summer, he does the same with big slices of juicy peaches.

Scattering items such as these into the narrative, Edge gives us substantial food for thought. In this entertaining title in what has become a successful publishing series, he lets us eat without worry of empty calories or expanding waistlines. Bless his heart, he lets us indulge.

(A version of this article appears in The Oakland Tribune.)

Pho (a.k.a. Noodle Love)

For comfort and simplicity, few foods beat pho, beef noodle soup. Served in deep, oversized bowls, it consists of thin slices of meat cooked quickly in hot broth, long strands of rice noodles and a smattering of fresh herbs.

According to chef Mai Pham, author of "Pleasures of the Vietnamese Table," pho originated in Hanoi after the French occupation of Vietnam in the late-1800s.

Historians note its similarities to pot-au-feu, a French classic with meat and vegetables cooked in water or consommé. They believe the word "pho" (pronounced "fuh") comes from the word "feu," French for fire.

Others point to the influence of the Chinese, neighbors to the north who favored ingredients such as rice noodles, ginger and star anise.

In time, of course, the Vietnamese embraced pho as their own, Pham says. They added splashes of fish sauce, for example, to the simmering broth. Cooks in cities such as Saigon incorporated mung bean sprouts and aromatic Asian basil. These provide an irresistible crunch and a distinct fragrance. They also offered garnishes and condiments.

This is the pho Vietnamese immigrants introduced to American palates in the 1980s and '90s. This is the pho we know.

A rich, meaty broth is essential to the dish, Pham explains. Briefly blanching the beef bones and beef chuck in a separate pot helps to minimize impurities in the stock. Occasionally skimming the fat and foam off the top helps as well.

While the soup bubbles gently on the stove, work on other elements. Soak dried rice noodles in cold water to make them pliable. Prep mung bean sprouts and slices of yellow onions. Plate them alongside sprigs of Asian basil, for example, and wedges of lime.

Hours later, top servings of cooked noodles with slices of beef, and ladle into big bowls generous amounts of steamy broth. They should keep things hot through the end of the meal. With chopsticks in one hand and soup spoons in the other, slurp away.

(A version of this article appears in Relish. The photo is from Relish as well.)



I adapt the following recipe from Mai Pham's "Pleasures of the Vietnamese Table." For each bowl, Pham recommends 1 part noodles to 3 parts broth.

Pho Bo
(Vietnamese Rice Noodle Soup with Beef)

for the broth:
5 lbs. beef marrow or knuckle bones
2 lbs. beef chuck, cut into 2 pieces
2 (3-inch) pieces ginger, cut in half lengthwise, lightly bruised with the flat side of a knife, lightly charred
2 yellow onions, peeled and charred
1/4 cup fish sauce
3 oz. rock sugar or 3 Tbsp. sugar
10 whole star anise, lightly toasted in a dry pan
6 whole cloves, lightly toasted in a dry pan
1 Tbsp. sea salt

for the noodles:
1 lb. dried 1/16-inch wide rice sticks
1/3 lb. beef sirloin, slightly frozen, then sliced paper-thin across the grain

for the garnishes:
1/2 yellow onion, sliced paper-thin
3 scallions, cut into thin rings
1/3 cup chopped cilantro
1 lb. mung bean sprouts, tails trimmed
10 sprigs Asian basil (or Thai basil)
1 dozen saw-leaf herb leaves (optional)
6 Thai bird chilies or 1 serrano chili, cut into thin rings
1 lime, cut into 6 wedges
ground black pepper

Note: To char ginger, hold the piece with tongs directly over an open flame. Turn occasionally, charring it until the edges are slightly blackened and the ginger is fragrant, about 3 to 4 minutes. Char the onions similarly. Peel and discard the blackened skins, then rinse and add to the broth.

To prepare the broth:

In a large stockpot, bring 6 quarts of water to a boil.

Place the bones and beef chuck into a second pot and add water to cover. Bring to a boil and boil vigorously for 5 minutes. Using tongs, carefully transfer the bones and beef to the first pot of boiling water. Discard the water in which the meat cooked.

When the water returns to a boil, reduce the heat to a simmer. Skim the surface often to remove any foam and fat. Add the charred ginger and yellow onions, fish sauce and sugar. Simmer until the beef chuck is tender, about 40 minutes.

Remove one piece of meat and submerge in cool water for 10 minutes to prevent it from darkening and drying out. Drain, then cut into thin slices and set aside. Let the other piece continue to cook in the simmering broth.

When the broth has been simmering for about 1 1/2 hours total, wrap the star anise and cloves in a spice bag (or cheesecloth) and add to the broth. Let infuse until the broth is fragrant, about 30 minutes. Remove and discard both the spice bag and yellow onions.

Add the salt and continue to simmer, skimming as necessary, until you're ready to assemble the dish. The broth needs to cook for at least 2 hours total. (It will taste salty but should balance out once the noodles and garnishes are added.) Leave the remaining chuck and beef bones to simmer in the pot. Just before serving, bring the broth back to a rolling boil.

To prepare the noodles:

Soak the dried noodles in cold water for 30 minutes, then drain. Bring a big pot of water to a rolling boil. When you're ready to serve (not before), place the noodles one portion at a time into a sieve and lower it into the boiling water.

Using chopsticks or a long spoon, stir the noodles so they untangle and cook evenly. Blanch just until they are soft but still chewy, about 10 to 20 seconds. Drain completely, then transfer to a large preheated bowl. Cook remaining noodles similarly.

To assemble the dish:

Place a few slices of beef chuck and raw sirloin on top of the noodles. Ladle about 2 to 3 cups of hot broth into each large bowl. The heat will cook the raw beef instantly. Garnish with sliced yellow onions, scallions and chopped cilantro. Guests can garnish individual bowls with mung bean sprouts, herbs, chilies, lime juice and ground black pepper. Makes 6 servings.

"Wagamama" and me

Though I say nice things about Andy Raskin's "The Ramen King and I," I have pretty much stopped eating packages of instant ramen and Cup Noodles, and tend not to stock them in the house. The artificial quality and high sodium content frighten me.

On the other hand, I can appreciate fresh noodles served in big bowls of hot broth or stir-fried swiftly with slivers of meat and vegetables. I like the taste and the versatility. Birthday meals, for instance, always include platters of noodles.

In what can be called a stroke of synergy, I am given a copy of "The Wagamama Cookbook."

Written by Hugo Arnold, it includes ideas and recipes from the popular British restaurant chain specializing in soba, ramen and udon noodle dishes. The first outpost opened in London's Bloomsbury neighborhood; there are now dozens of Wagamamas around the world.

I favor chicken ramen and will have to try this version in the near future:

Chicken Ramen
(Charbroiled Chicken and Noodle Soup with Bok Choy and Bamboo Shoots)

2 boneless, skinless chicken breasts
vegetable oil, for oiling
salt and white pepper
9 oz. fresh egg noodles
4 cups chicken or vegetable stock
2 bok choy, trimmed and roughly chopped (or 2 handfuls of baby spinach leaves)
12 pieces bamboo shoots, drained
4 scallions, trimmed and finely sliced

Preheat the broiler or grill. Lightly oil and season the chicken breasts and broil or grill for 4 minutes on each side, or until cooked through. Let rest for 5 minutes, slice on the diagonal, and set aside.

Cook the noodles in a large pot of boiling water for 2 to 3 minutes until just tender. Drain, refresh under cold running water, and divide between 2 bowls.

Heat the chicken or vegetable stock until boiling. Put the bok choy on top of the noodles and ladle in the stock. Top with the sliced chicken, bamboo shoots and scallions. Makes 2 servings.