Korean Grilled Mackerel

👨‍🍳 NOT Cooking in the Time of COVID 👨‍🍳

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No, I didn’t make any of this.

I bought the components and the best I can lay claim to is having arranged them on the plate. But for what it’s worth, it was pretty tasty: Korean grilled mackerel, sweet and spicy pickled daikon, and seasoned cucumbers (fish sauce, sesame oil, sugar and garlic). The bowl of rice never made it into the photo. (Actually, that was homemade.)

The source was DNY Natural Land, 322 Flatbush Ave in Brooklyn, a fixture in the neighborhood since 1999. Larger than the average bodega, smaller than the average grocery store, and pricier on average than either, its presence a few blocks from my apartment is a boon at a time like this. The primary undertaking of this Korean-owned business beyond setting out a modest selection of prepared food like the above is providing good quality, mostly organic produce, but they also have a fresh fish department, grab-n-go sushi, some Korean refrigerated goodies like kimchi, a small but reasonably comprehensive selection of Japanese and Korean staples, beer, bulk items, packaged goods, plus the ever-important Tom Cat Bakery baguettes – Amy’s too if you insist, but do try Tom Cat – and of course the obligatory rainbow of fresh flowers parked along the stoop line. Oh, and enough notable brands of ice cream to satisfy every pandemically depressed palate including a wide assortment of Ben & Jerry’s offerings. Have you tried their Punch Line flavor? Deeply flavorful brown butter bourbon ice cream paired with rich, delicious almond ice cream laden with crunchy, roasted almonds and luscious cherries. O.M.G!

But I digress.

H Mart, it’s not, but I can’t walk to H Mart in a New York minute. All this and they’re open 24-7. So you can get that Ben & Jerr…uh, never mind….🙄
 
 
Stay safe, be well, and eat whatever it takes. ❤️
 
 

Rumpumpumpom – A Christmas Cocktail

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Okay, I freely admit it. As a countermeasure against COVID stress and concomitant dumbfounding national politics, I started listening to Christmas music earlier this year. Much earlier. Like when it was still light out at 8pm.

It seemed that every day brought some new, depressing wrinkle to the headlines, and in order to survive, many folks went on a quest to find something, anything, that would provide some meaning, a dependable sense of personal stability. For me, at least, there was comfort to be gleaned from hearing the cozy, ageless tunes of a generally happier time that, unlike the news, required no rapt attention, songs that just droned their continual backdrop of falalalalas, hohohos, and parumpumpumpoms.

Now, the essence of an earworm is repetition. Rumpumpumpom. Taken out of context, what does rumpumpumpom even mean? From its relentless, nagging reiteration, I kept sensing that the word itself was on a quest to find its own meaning – that sense induced, to be sure, because it was five o’clock Somewhere – another prophylactic conceit that has gained popularity during these times – and my appreciation for that pastime led me to conclude that the rumpumpumpom conundrum would be solved if only it had a proper definition.

And now it does.

Behold the Rumpumpumpom, my custom Christmas cocktail.

Start with a base of RUM mixed with Hood PUMpkin eggnog, in proportions to taste and proximity to the aforementioned hour of the day. Float a glug of POMegranate juice into the mixture and drag a toothpick (or similar) through it to create a festive holiday design (admittedly not my strong suit). Garnish with PUMpkin seeds. Et voilà: Rumpumpumpom with a raison d’être.

Much to my surprise, it actually worked. Rum and nog are a classic couple and the tangy tartness of the pomegranate juice cut the sweetness of the pumpkin eggnog. By the time I had finished tinkering, it was eight o’clock Somewhere and by then I was easily entertained by the red juice and green seeds accidentally providing unintended Christmassy accents. Time for some photos and a few final taste tests.

And now…it is midnight Somewhere. The quest has been fulfilled, the music has run its course, the room is silent and serene.
 
 
And Somewhere, Someone with more artistic talent and a steadier hand could no doubt squiggle a Paloma Picasso-esque Christmas tree to float atop this libation, perhaps even trimmed with a solitary pomegranate ruby at its apex — and we would toast the holiday together.
 
 
A boy can dream.
 
 
 
 

Winter Squash: Quashing Questions – Golden Papaya Squash

👨‍🍳 Cooking in the Time of COVID 👨‍🍳

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Golden papaya squash, reputedly named for its shape, was new to me. Its flesh was on the dry/satiny-smooth side of the texture continuum which, I suspected, might fulfill an unspoken promise of sweetness, but this one needed some help in that department. (Remember: named for its shape, not its flavor.)


What you see here is my effort to rescue the situation with a glaze cobbled together from orange blossom water, brown sugar, melted butter and salt. Mission accomplished.


So there you have it. The final chapter in my thoroughly unscientific, absolutely non-exhaustive, utterly subjective treatise on diminutive winter squash.

Of course, now I’m facing a fridge full of leftover prepared squash, so I guess you know what I’m having for dinner tomorrow, right?
 
Pizza!      Sushi!!      Nachos!!!

ANYTHING BUT WINTER SQUASH!

 
 
 
(For those who are just joining us, the saga begins here.)
 
 
Stay safe, be well, and eat whatever it takes. ❤️
 
 

Winter Squash: Quashing Questions – Sweet Dumpling Squash

👨‍🍳 Cooking in the Time of COVID 👨‍🍳

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We talked about sweet dumpling squash in the carnival squash post. This miniature charmer was sweeter than carnival squash (contrary to my expectations based on admittedly limited research) and almost a little nutty with a tender texture and thin skin, so I decided that it would make a perfectly irresistible example of stuffed squash, complete with edible serving bowl.


Turned out to be rather photogenic as well. I cut off the top, cleaned it out, and roasted it flesh side down until it was soft; then I filled it with a mixture of sweet cranberries, chewy wild rice, crunchy toasted cornbread croutons, sautéed apple cubes and pecans. Looks good enough to eat, right? I might even consider adding this to my already overstuffed Thanksgiving menu.

Next (and last) up, golden papaya squash.
 
(For those who are just joining us, the saga begins here.)
 
 
Stay safe, be well, and eat whatever it takes. ❤️
 
 

Winter Squash: Quashing Questions – Orange Kabocha Squash

👨‍🍳 Cooking in the Time of COVID 👨‍🍳

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Not merely an alternate color scheme, the orange kabocha squash is actually a red kuri/kabocha hybrid. This one was about six inches in diameter, conforming to the rubric of petite proportions I settled upon at the outset of this project. Japanese pumpkins are often described as tasting like a cross between pumpkin and sweet potato; this was no exception.


Since I simmered the other kabocha, I decided to give this one a straightforward oven roast treatment. Certainly tasty as you’d expect and falling along the dry/satiny-smooth side of the texture continuum, it did not disappoint. I suppose I should have done more with it, but my kitchen has essentially transmogrified into a culinary cucurbita laboratory of late and I wanted a baseline experiment. (Perhaps there’s a reason why chef’s whites look a little like a lab coat. 😉)

Next up, sweet dumpling squash.
 
(For those who are just joining us, the saga begins here.)
 
 
Stay safe, be well, and eat whatever it takes. ❤️
 
 

Winter Squash: Quashing Questions – Winter Sweet Kabocha Squash

👨‍🍳 Cooking in the Time of COVID 👨‍🍳

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I know kabocha as a dark green, firm-fleshed squash often reputed to taste like a blend of pumpkin, chestnut, and sweet potato, and it’s another of my favorites (most Japanese squashes garner high marks from me). But one crate at the farmers’ market bore a sign that read “winter sweet kabocha” and another was identified as merely “winter kabocha” so I inferred that they were two different varieties. I bought one of each (see the pair side by side in this photo) and decided to pass on the standard green variety – I mean really, how many kabochas can I use? Since the pair tasted pretty much the same (I suspect it was a labeling issue), I’m pretty sure in retrospect that purchasing both winter versions had been unnecessary and it would have been wiser to compare winter sweet kabocha to the more common green one (which I didn’t do) or the orange variation (which I did do).


Since kabocha of any color holds its shape commendably when steamed or simmered…


…I couldn’t resist making Kabocha no Nimono (かぼちゃの煮物), a classic Japanese treatment that simmers chunks of kabocha in dashi (Japanese soup stock) seasoned with sake and/or mirin, soy sauce, sugar and salt; the garnish is fresh ginger sliced into matchsticks. Very satisfying.

Next up, the aforementioned orange kabocha squash.
 
(For those who are just joining us, the saga begins here.)
 
 
Stay safe, be well, and eat whatever it takes. ❤️
 
 

Winter Squash: Quashing Questions – Tetsukabuto Squash

👨‍🍳 Cooking in the Time of COVID 👨‍🍳

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The Japanese tetsukabuto squash is a cross between kabocha and butternut squashes, which makes it a C. moschata and a C. maxima hybrid.


Its flavor reminded me of sweet pumpkin with nutty overtones; on the dry/satiny-smooth side of the texture continuum, it’s sufficiently firm to cut into cubes, for example, and it will retain its shape fairly well. Intensely flavorful, it’s another standout of the group.


I tinkered with a couple of different preparations for this one. This classic combination was an afterthought (that’s why there’s not all that much of it) but it was delicious with this squash. Essentially, there are four main ingredients: orecchiette pasta, crumbled hot Italian sausage, lacinato kale sautéed with garlic in the sausage drippings, and dollops of squash (which should have been cubes), along with a bit of minced fresh sage. A more decadent version adds a splash of chicken broth and heavy cream – another superb afterthought that didn’t make it into this photo but fortunately did make it into my mouth 😉. Garnish with freshly grated nutmeg and Parmigiano Reggiano cheese. I only wish I had made more of it.

Next up, winter sweet kabocha squash.
 
(For those who are just joining us, the saga begins here.)
 
 
Stay safe, be well, and eat whatever it takes. ❤️
 
 

Winter Squash: Quashing Questions – Delicata Squash

👨‍🍳 Cooking in the Time of COVID 👨‍🍳

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With a unique oblong shape and striped coloration, delicata squash is easy to spot and even easier to prepare; its rich sweet flavor makes it another favorite in my kitchen. It’s often sliced in half lengthwise to function as a serving vessel, and when stuffed looks like an overladen canoe – possibly applicable as part of a strategy to entice children to eat their veggies, and perhaps even opening the door to countering some stereotypes about Native Americans and teaching kids about the Three Sisters: squash, corn, and beans which were planted together by the indigenous people of North America.


Its individual serving size and indisputably edible thin skin lends itself to preparations like this, another common delicata treatment. I simply sliced it into rings and removed the seeds, anointed it with a bit of EVOO and a touch of salt, and roasted it in a hot oven. (Hey, kids might think these are cute, too.) Incidentally, those are Thai basil flowers garnishing the squash – just because I had ’em.

Next up tetsukabuto squash.
 
(For those who are just joining us, the saga begins here.)
 
 
Stay safe, be well, and eat whatever it takes. ❤️
 
 

Winter Squash: Quashing Questions – Honeynut Squash

👨‍🍳 Cooking in the Time of COVID 👨‍🍳

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Developed by Cornell University, honeynut squash is a new hybrid that’s a cross between butternut and buttercup squash, single serving size (this one was about 4½ inches long), and with an unbelievable flavor. My understanding is that it undergoes a period of temperature-controlled curing which condenses its sugars and intensifies its sweet, nutty, caramel taste.


I didn’t subject it to any special preparation other than what I did for the brulee squash and a few others that I wanted to sample unadorned. Its dark, sweet flesh aspires to be dessert; if winter squash and candy had a baby, it would be this. ‘Nuff said.

Look for them at your local farmers’ market or specialty produce store, and let me know what you think.

Next up, delicata squash.
 
(For those who are just joining us, the saga begins here.)
 
 
Stay safe, be well, and eat whatever it takes. ❤️
 
 

Winter Squash: Quashing Questions – Brulee Squash

👨‍🍳 Cooking in the Time of COVID 👨‍🍳

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The brulee squash is simply a compact, individually sized breed of butternut squash; this one was a mere 4½ inches long.


Since I’d never tasted one before, rather than doing anything fancy with it I merely halved it, cleaned it up, and roasted it, cut side down. Now, with a name like brulee, visions of crème brûlée danced in my head as it was cooking and I was looking forward to my first bite with the eager anticipation of a kid opening a Christmas present.

True, it was sweet like some of its relatives and undeniably cute like certain others, but frankly, I was a little disappointed because, well, that’s as far as it went. After all, in retrospect, there was no promise of crème in its name. Just brulee.

Which, in French, means burned.
 
 
Next up, honeynut squash.
 
(For those who are just joining us, the saga begins here.)
 
 
Stay safe, be well, and eat whatever it takes. ❤️