From the Land O' Lakes Box: Red Hots Salad

Editor’s Note: This column is devoted to recipes and food-related stories from my life, mostly from childhood and adolescence, which is when food is most new or interesting or gross. The Land O' Lakes reference comes from a recipe box my Grandma C. gave me a couple years ago that is designed to look like a Land O' Lakes butter box. It is filled with all of my mother’s family’s traditional recipes, all handwritten on cards or old scraps of paper.

I’m generally not a fan of Jello-based salads. A big mound of jiggly red gelatin with specks of Lord-knows-what inside just doesn’t kickstart the salivaries for me. The main problem is the stark contrast in texture of the soft Jello with the hard, cold chunks of pineapple and other questionables. And as an adult, I generally feel that Jello is a tragic waste of calories. However, my Grandma C., probably sometime long before my birth, repaired all the wrongs of the generic Jello salad, mainly by adding two ingredients: applesauce and the time-honored candy, Red Hots.

This recipe takes the Jello, adds texture with applesauce, spices it up with Red Hots, giving it a cinnamon kick, and then, according to C., the optionals are pineapple, celery, and nuts. Frankly, I wasn’t aware those were optional, so for the purposes of this post and for honoring the great Red Hots Salad, they are essential.

I’ve never known a Thanksgiving without Red Hots Salad. And though it kind of looked like an alien mold with the kitchen sink thrown in (when is celery and applesauce ever in the same bowl?), it married perfectly with the rest of the grub. With its solid, but saucey texture and reddish color, it competed with cranberry sauce as the fruity/salady item. And as such, it was not a bad thing when it happened to seep into the mashed potatoes or a piece of gravy-covered turkey. And it’s the item that after you’ve gone up to the buffet twice, you go up a third time to get another helping of the stuff, no matter how bad of an idea that might be to your expanding stomach.

As I’ve progressed rapidly into adulthood, I’ve enjoyed sharing these family curiosities with AC, whose reactions are both funny (Oh my God, this is amazing!) and familiar to my own reactions, as my untrained palate as a child tried to understand what I was eating.

So whenever AC and I are back in Texas for Christmas, we request, no require, Red Hots Salad. And Grandma C. always obliges. Here’s the transcript from the hand-written card:

Recipe for: Applesauce Salad (Editor’s Note: This is my Grandma’s name for it, but I’ve always known it as Red Hots Salad)

“THE salad you kids always want.”

From: Grandma C.

1 pkg orange Jello
3 Tbsps red hot candies
1 can applesauce
1 cup boiling water

Add: pineapple,  nuts, celery. “I always add all of the above.” —Grandma C.

“Put red hots in water and bring to boil. Add to Jello and stir until dissolved. Add rest of ingredients. Pour in mold, and refrigerate.”

—AKC

It's All Hyderabadi to Me . . .

The stretch of suburbia (West Alexandria/Annandale/Springfield) in which I toil offers an extraordinary array of culinary riches. Annandale is, of course, known as the D.C. area’s Little Korea. But in addition to dozens of Korean restaurants, my office is also just a five or ten minute drive from all of the following: a solid Peruvian chicken joint, my favorite Afghan kebab stand, a Korean/French bakery hybrid (scroll to the last paragraph in the linked article), decent Indonesian, serviceable Thai, Northern Chinese, Pakistani sweets, and even Bolivian. But until relatively recently, I had to content myself with exploring this bounty on my own or simply not at all (I don’t have fun eating at a restaurant all by myself).

You see, most of my co-workers are admittedly happy to breakfast at McDonald’s and lunch at Wendy’s. And the few lunches that we all have together in the conference room are typically catered by Papa John’s (as a side note, one former co-worker always insisted that at least one pizza be topped with hamburger, an unusual request made all the more unlikely by the fact that he originally hailed from Bangladesh). But I don’t suffer from those choices too much because thankfully, on those rare occasions when we actually do go out for lunch as one big happy work family, we can all agree upon Mike’s American Grill.

Fortunately, one of my newer co-workers has proven to be surprisingly amenable to just about every lunchtime expedition I’ve proposed. He’s originally from India, and perhaps because he’s had to assimilate his tastes to the American palate he’s willing to explore just about any other culture as well. His command of English, including idioms, is outstanding. But sometimes when I’m trying to pitch a cuisine that he hasn’t tried before and my salesmanship is falling flat, I’ll resort to describing a particular item in terms of Indian food in a last ditch effort to pique his interest. And I only realized the other day just how odd it is that, outside of this forum, I regularly describe an already seemingly exotic ethnic dish in terms of another exotic ethnic dish- neither of which would constant my own native grub. While my interpretations can be a bit loose, I thought some folks might find it interesting to see a short list of various dishes that I’ve described in terms of Indian dishes:

1)    I’ve likened Bahn Xeo, the Vietnamese crepe described in the previous post, as being akin to the Indian dosa, crepes that are typically filled with potatoes onions and spices. While the Viet Royale crepe could be loosely described as dosa-like, the one that my co-worker and I had at Saigon Citi (they do spell it "Citi" at the actual restaurant even though the link suggests ortherwise) was like a thick and greazy (and I do mean “greazy”) omelette.

2)    I’ve likened Thai curry puffs to Indian samosas. The curry puffs at Thai Lemon grass are among my favorites in the area, even if Thai Lemon Grass is somewhat underwhelming, in general. The curry puff is a delicate pastry stuffed with potatoes and spices whose cooling accompaniment is usually a dish of chopped cucumbers and carrots in a light vinegar dipping sauce. This is very similar to the Indian samosa, which is basically a small, fried turnover stuffed with potatoes or meat and spices.

3)    I’ve likened the salteña, a Bolivian baked turnover, to the Indian samosa. Salteñas are easily in my top five favorite food items of all time, as they are self-contained meals, or at least half-meals, with the perfect balance of sweet and savory and protein and carbs. I’ve been to a number of different Bolivian places, from the relatively upscale Tutto Bene (an Italian restaurant by weekday, a Bolivian restaurant by weekend) to the rather divey and unwelcoming Pike IV (not to be confused with Phase IV), and I’ve never been disappointed by a salteña.  The salteña is typically stuffed with a chicken or beef stew that usually has peas, potatoes, onions, olives, pieces of hardboiled egg, and sometimes raisins. Unlike its possible Indian counterpart, a salteña can be potentially hazardous for the novice, as a surprising amount of hot broth will spill out if you just plant a haphazard bite without knowledge of its consequences. The salteñas pictured here are from Pike IV.

4)    I’ve likened Peruvian pollo a la brasa to tandoori chicken. This is basically a battle of the marinades. I happen to favor the crisp, golden, spice encrusted Peruvian chickens to the otherworldly red of its distant Indian cousin. Like kebabs, pollo a la brasa is one of those rare ethnic foods that has true cross-cultural appeal. In fact, I have been known to describe pollo a la brasa as the unofficial fast food of the D.C. area.

5)    I’ve likened Indonesian corn fritters to Indian pakora. While my enthusiasm for Indonesian corn fritters (bakwan jagung) varies depending upon the purveyor, I love pakora, especially if I can douse them in tamarind sauce and spiced yoghurt. The buffet at Shiney’s (our weekly Pakistani pitstop) regularly features a bunch of pakora lazing in a vat of curried yoghurt sauce. So bad for you, but so good.

6)    I’ve likened the scallion pancakes at northern Chinese snacker A&J Restaurant to Indian uttapams. I actually don’t have that much experience with uttapams. If I’m at the buffet at Minerva, dosas with coconut or ginger chutney, pakora, and, of course, nan will always take precedence when I’m in carb-loading mode. Pretty much everyone has had a scallion pancake, at some point. But I bet most folks have never seen them fresh from the fryer all swollen like a blowfish (they flatten out into pancake form once they cool). I had the ones pictured here at Temptasian, the Szechuan restaurant, that all the foodies flipped out over and then subsequently abandoned once chef Peter Chang’s brief residence concluded. Though it’s admittedly not as good as it was during Chang’s tenure, it’s really the only place to get an authentic Szechuan fix in the close-in suburbs. We used to favor Crystal City’s Formosa Café, but they fled to Chantilly a couple years ago. There’s also the secret Szechuan menu at the Charlie Chiang’s on S. Pickett St., but dining at Temptasian is somehow a bit less depressing on a Saturday night than rolling through the loading dock ambience of S. Pickett Street.

Contact info for all of the places mentioned here can be found at the links in the article.

-AC

A Regal Repast at Viet Royale

I occasionally like to issue proclamations. For instance, this past weekend, in between furiously stuffing shreds of green papaya salad into my mouth, I proclaimed Vietnamese food to be my favorite of all the world cuisines.

This is significant because for the past several years I believed that Afghan cuisine held this distinction. I had even convinced AKC that we should seriously consider holding our rehearsal dinner at a particularly well-regarded Afghan restaurant. We ended up choosing the Brewer’s Art instead, thus forgoing the inevitable confusion that would have occurred as family members and close friends attempted to navigate such obscure fare as aushak and quorma kadu.

I’ve always admired how Vietnamese cuisine absorbed the French colonial influence into a seemingly natural fusion, as opposed to the forced fusion of too many upscale eateries. And yes, I realize that the colonization of Vietnam itself was forced, but I’m making a distinction between the slow and natural evolution of a cuisine resulting from two distinct cultures in proximity to one another and an overly ambitious chef forcing two distinct cuisines together as quickly as it takes to pen a menu.

But I also love the prominent role that fresh aromatic herbs and other salady accoutrement play in just about every dish. This refreshing and healthful tangle of herbs is the perfect balance to grilled meats, squares of vermicelli, and tart and fishy nuoc cham. It also has the additional benefit of enabling me to repeatedly make a pig of myself at a Vietnamese restaurant without hating myself afterward.

Though I’ve enjoyed bahn mi, Vietnamese coffee, and other products of the Vietnamese/French fusion, I somehow had never ordered a Vietnamese crepe. But a recent perusal of U.S. Airways Magazine, which included a photo of three such crepes, convinced me that I had to have one as soon as possible. So we schlepped out to Eden Center. And this time, rather than going to the much-lauded Four Sisters, I was determined to try a different venue. We had previously been underwhelmed by Huong Viet, so we decided to have a go at Viet Royale instead.

We were excited that in place of the usual lemon soda, Viet Royale distinguished itself by offering a refreshing lime soda instead. And the fresh summer rolls were well-constructed.



But their green papaya salad topped with strips of sesame-flecked beef jerky blew me away. The fibrous shreds of green papaya act as a bland, but coolly refreshing moderator to all of the strong flavors in this dish. The beet red jerky was topped by fresh basil and hot sauce arrayed on a heaping mound of green papaya bathed in nuoc cham. I chased its surprising heat with sips of lime soda, but I’m hopelessly addicted to spicy food and plowed through the salad until my mouth was on fire.

The crepe, also know as banh xeo and the whole reason for our expedition, turned out to be a real winner as well. The plate arrived crowded with a veritable herb garden that loomed over the crepe, which was folded over like an omelette. The brittle crepe held bits of shrimp and pork in its thin and crispy pancake layers, concealing a mound of steamed sprouts within. The rice flour crepe tasted faintly  of sweet coconut milk which was a relief after the unrelenting fire of the papaya salad. I broke off piece after piece of crepe, wrapping each fragment in lettuce along with some steamed sprouts, a tear from the sprigs of mint and basil and a few bits of pickled carrot, and dipped the whole bundle in nuoc cham. Awesome.

We’ll definitely be back to see how Viet Royale handles some of our other favorites, particularly beef wrapped in grape leaves.

Check out Viet Royale for papaya salad and bahn xeo:

6795 Wilson Blvd.
Falls Church, VA
703-533-8388

-AC

Bananas in Deep Fried Pajamas

Top three things about this Memorial Day weekend:
1.    Seeing “Grindhouse” with friends at Arlington Cinema ‘n’ Drafthouse.
2.    Walking along the C&O Canal in Great Falls, VA.
3.    Reading this year’s Washingtonian’s “Cheap Eats” issue 2 a.m.

Many of our favorite places are written up year after year, which always warms the heart; it’s like seeing a friend win an award for being just a really awesome person every single year. And naturally, it brings me and the Washingtonian closer together (seems we’re always on the same page, pun completely intended.) But of course, some new places are heavily touted, and after I’ve buried my head in the pages of this annual bible, I get the fever to run and taste my favorite tastes.

This year one of the editors’ new favorites was Eamonn’s: A Dublin Chipper in Old Town, Alexandria (our hood), a small chip shop started about a year ago by the owners/operators of the famous Restaurant Eve, also in Old Town. These Irish proprietors fry up some serious batter-smothered hunks of cod and skate, which you can dip into several of their house-made sauces (classic tartar, marie rose, chili, etc.). Then there are the crispy but soft on in the inside chips: battered and fried. Burgers and sausage: battered and fried. Candy bars: battered and fried. Folks, this is what heaven is like.

But the editors of the Washingtonian made an egregious omission: no mention of the fried banana. Zip, nada. The candy bars are good, and certainly you can get your Cadbury fix there, as well, but no other sweet treat at Eamonn’s compares to the taste and texture of the state-fair junk-food-esque wonderfulness of the battered and deep-fried banana.

Judging by the super fresh banana taste of the finished product, the fry cooks must grab these bananas right after the last hint of green has faded from the husk so they are hardy enough to withstand the heavy batter and oil. Still, the darn thing arrives mushy and coated with a delightful and satisfying fried batter coating dusted with sugar and cinnamon. This is not a snack to have after church in your Sunday best, rather put on the shirt and sweats from that last day of painting you did. It's a mess to eat. But it's one of those things that when I start to eat it, I don't remember the actual act of chewing and swallowing; I can only recall the euphoric feelings the pleasure centers in my brain are producing after having devoured it in 7.3 seconds. And that fresh banana taste.

For a fried banana, followed up by a generous piece of fried cod, of course, go to Eamonn’s:

728 King Street
Alexandria, VA
(703) 299-8384

Also, don’t forget to pick up your Washingtonian “Cheap Eats” issue.

—AKC

Gelateria Hysteria

AC and I recently ventured to Northern Italy for 10 days of culture, architecture ... okay, who are we kidding, FOOD.

While we probably saw no fewer than 30 gothic and romanesque churches, palaces, and other medieval structures, it was our meals that ruled the course of each day. And certainly, the Italian creation of creamy gelato was a must in each city. So once we had our fill of savories, the hunt was on for some something sweet. One of the coolest things about shopping for gelato is that the list of flavors is always different from shop to shop. There are some you can always count on: pistachio (more on that later), bacio, chocolate, fiordilatte, and others. But each place will always throw you a few curve balls. There's even a place in Venice that offers off-the-wall choices like artichoke gelato (?). The unknown makes the hunt for the best gelato that much more exciting.

Because there is only so much we can cram into our stomachs, we decided we would only eat the best gelato available, so we found ourselves checking things out at many gelaterias and moving on. The lesson here: Not all gelato is created equal. If you're the type who doesn't want to waste a single calorie on mediocre gelato (like us), you would be wise to ignore those travelers and guide books that tell you: "It doesn't matter where you go, all the gelato is amazing."

Not true. At all.

Now, we don't profess to be experts on this topic, but we learned quickly a couple of major things to look for in shopping for a gelateria. First of all, if you're in a heavily touristy area, such as Florence's Ponte Vecchio, that's usually a sign that the frozen treat is made to accommodate sheer volume, not  discerning, gourmet palates. Another key giveaway along those lines is that the volume businesses pile the gelato in these enormous unsightly mounds, like a foot high, again to keep the product stocked for hundreds of tourists funnelling through the high-traffic areas. And let's be honest, a huge mound of frozen treat does not look A. at all tasty and B.  clean or safe. We imagined little ice crystals forming at the top of the mound of the flavors that weren't getting as much love such as the fake pistachio.

And speaking of fake pistachio, as you're approaching the gelateria (most places are semi-exposed to the street so you don't have to commit to going inside before checking out their creations), make sure to get a good look at the pistachio. Even if you don't usually go for it, the color of the pistachio will tell you right away if the establishment is worth patronizing. If the gelato is between olive green and brown in color, you know it was made with the love and care of a professional; if it's lime green, it's just a bunch of flavoring and food coloring, and you should run for the hills. You can then extrapolate this methodology to the other flavors. Amarena will explode with fresh cherry flavor, and the chocolate will be a deep, rich flavor. This  worked for us every time.

That's not to say finding excellent gelato was easy. Many places are of the huge-mound and lime-green pistachio variety, especially on the beaten paths. But when you find a place that passes all of our tests, you'll be glad you did your homework.

Our favorites: AC enjoyed the creations of Veneta Gelateria in Lucca, a very small, walled town in Tuscany. We had viewed a few gelaterias with no success until we turned on a quiet street (it's always a quiet street where you find the best stuff, eh?), and we stopped in. One of our favorite flavors is fiordilatte, or ice milk, a flavor akin to sweet cream. Here we also tried a pineapple with pignoli (pine nuts), a pear sorbet and Spagnola, a rum and cherry mixture, which reigns as one of our top gelato discoveries.

Nannini: In Siena, Alessandro Nannini is known for his magnificent pastries and old-fashioned coffee and gourmet shops. After a long hike through the stone-paved city, we were excited to come across a Nannini gelateria. Though it was mobbed, we had a feeling this shop would be a winner. And once I saw there was banana, I was committed to ordering some gelato (for those who are keeping score, the banana was off white, not yellow). I paired that with dark chocolate, creating the most profound gelato combination I have ever had. We went on to Venice and Milan after two days in Siena, but sadly, came across no more banana gelato. What gives?

If you'll be traveling to Lucca or Siena, try out these capital gelaterias:

Veneta Gelateria
Via Vittorio Veneto, 74, 55100
Lucca, Italy
+39 0583 467037

Nannini
Via Banchi di Sopra 99
Siena, Italy

—AKC

Pancakes Double Takes

Although I talk up my love for Pakistani and Yemeni delights, I must disclose that since returning to Northern Virginia nearly four years ago I’ve rediscovered my passion for yuppie comfort food- particularly the mostly dependable creations churned out by the kitchens of the Great American Restaurants Group and its burgeoning tribute chain, the Neighborhood Restaurant Group. Because the dinners at most of these joints moderately exceed what we’re willing to throw down to make pigs of ourselves, we take advantage of the relative good values found on their lunch and brunch menus. And lately I’ve found myself regularly jonesing for the pancakes at the Neighborhood Restaurant Group’s Vermilion.

The pancakes pictured here were, until recently, responsible for my regular Saturday afternoon couchings as the only physical activity that I could muster after consuming them was reclining and self-loathing. These pancakes were the fullest realization of the term “pancake”- their griddle-crisp (almost crunchy) exteriors sandwiching a nearly inch thick moist buttermilk cake. And the plump dried cranberries that they used were no mere Craisins, which a lesser kitchen might deploy without anyone noticing the difference.

A few weeks ago, the Neighborhood Restaurant Group managed to lure chef Anthony Chittum away from D.C.’s Notti Bianche to man the kitchen at Vermilion. As a result, the menu has undergone a makeover over the past couple weeks, forcing our poor waitress to struggle with quickly learning such esoteric terms as “malfatti” and “velote”.

Thankfully, the $7 brunch pancakes survived the menu purge that typically comes with a change in chefs. And though they are totally different from the former pancakes that shall remain (in my mind at least) the definitive pancakes, they are still pretty damn good.

Chittum has replaced the buttermilk pancakes with cornmeal griddle cakes that come with a side of whipped buttermilk in lieu of butter. These cornmeal pancakes are a more manageable scale than their blanket-sized predecessors, as I can easily put away a four stack and not hate myself for the rest of the afternoon. The mild tang of the whipped buttermilk works well against the rich earthiness of the cornmeal pancakes. And the pancakes themselves are thin, moist and dense.

The bacon at Vermilion is excellent, but it’s worth trying their Italian breakfast sausage, which will make you realize what an abomination breakfast sausage is at pretty much every other restaurant. It’s a fat, well-spiced link with a snappy casing that they specially order from a butcher in Baltimore.

Though the Vermilion website suggests that brunch is only served on Sunday, it's also available on Saturday. And late risers can shuffle into Vermilion for brunch until 3 p.m.:

Vermilion Restaurant
1120 King Street
Alexandria, VA 22314
(703) 684-9669

—AC

The Cheese More People Choose

A recent business trip took me to a small town in Wisconsin this past weekend. When I think of Wisconsin, two things come to mind: 1. It’s cold there this time of year. And 2. Supposedly they make good cheese.

Both were true. We landed in a Madison to a winter wonderland of snow and cold. Also, there were signs and stores boasting delicious cheeses everywhere. Everywhere.

But after two days of meetings and seminars, it seemed time escaped us much too quickly. There was simply no time to explore the wintry environs of the Wisconsin Dells and take in the local culture and food (save for all the meat you can eat there).

But our sadness at a lost opportuity faded when we saw an enormous billboard on the way back to the airport boasting great Wisconsin cheese and sausages. We exited at the required location and pulled up to Ehlenbach's Cheese Chalet, a purveyor of local food and the requisite Wisconsin gifts (think overpriced plastic cheeseheads and sausages shaped and packaged like bottles of Milwaukee’s Best). The best thing about this chalet, which bears the appearance of a Bavarian shack, was that it welcomes visitors with an enormous fiberglass dairy cow outside the shop. We like that kind of stuff.

From experience, I’ve learned these types of places usually have great homegrown goods in addition to whatever their signature item is. In this case, many varieties of homemade jams were on sale, as well as some Door County (known for its cherries) favorites, such as cherry salsa, which is made with the county's best sour and sweet cherries, onions, peppers, and other savories. I picked up a small jar of spicy pickled garlic, also a product of Door County. Whole cloves of garlic are married with jalapenos, red peppers, and vinegar. I was told this should be eaten straight, but I hope to find some way to work it into a salad dressing or a pasta dish.

On to the cheese: The variety was almost too much to handle. You know how deciding on one or two things from a Chinese restaurant menu can be completely daunting? I had the same problem here. There were so much to choose from. You had the basic cheeses—cheddar, havarti, aged homegrown varieties. Then there were fruity and chocolate cheeses, and others with various flavores and added elements. I wanted to go for something simple so I could truly enjoy the creaminess and flavor of the cheese. I went for a half pound of the Wisconsin havarti. Adjacent to the cheese counter was an ample selection of cured meats, and in this case it was their award-winning peppery hard salami that caught my eye. I got a half pound.

AC’s facial expression alone told me I had made the right choices. The sausage was indeed hard, but peppery and chewy. And the cheese was unbelievably fresh and creamy. Though havarti is a mild cheese, it had enough flavor and punch to marry nicely with the spicy sausage.

If you’re in the Madison, Wisc. area, check out Ehlenbach’s at:

4879 County Road V
Junction V & I-90-94 (Exit 126)
DeForest, WI 53532
(608) 846-4791

Or order it online at:
www.ehlenbachscheese.com

—AKC