Entertaining Friday: Kelly Family Burger Throwdown

Every year for Memorial Day weekend, Mike and Alicia head up to Alicia's family's Keuka Lake house to hang out with the Kelly clan. This year, in addition to the usual sunset cruises, camper of the year trash-talking and general frivolity, the whole family did it up Bobby Flay-style, with a Friday night burger throwdown.

Everyone was invited to join and the whole group voted on which burgers tasted best. (SPOILER ALERT) Alicia won. But the contest isn't over quite yet. The Kellys asked everyone's favorite food blogger (that's me, in case you were wondering) to crown winners in two additional categories: ingredients and appearance.

The contestants:

Aunt Martha's Sa'Lotta Burger

Ground beef mixed with crumbled bleu cheese and worcheshire sauce

Topped with grilled sliced mushrooms, yellow, orange, and roasted red peppers done on the grill and topped with Meunster cheese

Aunt Kelly's Mexican Burger

Taco seasoning, corn and black beans mixed into the ground beef, topped with salsa and Mexican fancy shredded cheese

Mr. Kelly's Italian Stallion

Ground Beef mixed with grilled onion marinated in balsamic vinegar, Thyme, Oregano, Marjoram, Basil, Rosemary, and Sage

Topped with twice roasted red peppers grilled proscuito and Asiago cheese, Garlic toasted rolls

Mrs. Kelly's Hot Hawaiian (aka the Boogie Burger)

Ground beef seasoned with salt and pepper

Topped with grilled pineapple slices and sliced jalapeno peppers and topped with jalepeno jack cheese

Barger's Benedict Burger

Seasoned ground beef topped with a grilled slice of Canadian bacon, a fried egg, and Havarti cheese and hollandaise sauce on the bun

Alicia, her winning burger, The Insider, and her matching t-shirt

Unsurprisingly, a simple ingredient list wasn't enough for everyone's favorite Camper of the Year ("boys AND girls!"). She provided a full-on, menu-style description:

"The Insider: A departure from the original bacon cheeseburger.One bite into the molton, "baconny" lava and you will never be the same. The innovation of the classic toppings is what makes this burger a winner. Two very thin burger patties with sliced American cheese and crumbled bacon placed on one patty and then covered with the other and sealed tightly creates a pocket of melted cheese. The ground beef was seasoned with a variety of spices including garlic, cracked ground pepper, salt, etc. The burgers were topped with cajin seasoned and fried Vidalia onion slices."

And my verdicts? After much careful deliberation (really, I got all of these descriptions and photos days ago), the winners are...drumroll please...

Appearance: Mrs. Kelly's Hot Hawaiian

Ingredients: Barger's Benedict Burger

It was a tough call on both counts. Everyone obviously did a great job and the entries were both creative and well-executed (then again, I know the Kellys and I expected nothing less).

On appearance, it really came down to the accessories and the humor. Mrs. Kelly went the extra mile with her plating and that kind of effort deserves a win. Plus, everyone loves a hula girl.

Judging ingredients was tougher. Here, I thought in terms of creativity and how good the burger sounded. I asked myself, would I order this? For that alone, I almost chose the Sa'Lotta burger. I'd order that in a heartbeat. And I like the incorporation of different ethnic and regional flavors into the burger, as well - that's the kind of thing that often works out well for Top Chef contestants, and there's a reason why.

In the end, though, Barger and his Benedict edged out the competition because his concept takes something mainstream - the fried egg-burger combo - and builds on that in a creative way. While I'm very sure I could never actually finish a Benedict burger, I think it's really not a bad idea.

Plus, hollandaise. Man, do I love hollandaise.

You know, this is not the first throwdown I've judged. I'm beginning to feel like something of an expert. Anybody else out there in a cook-off kind of mood? I'm available for parties and awfully cheap. You can totally pay me in drinks.

Valentine's Day Preview

I read something earlier this week, possibly on Elizabeth Large's blog, comparing dining out on Valentine's Day to drinking on New Year's Eve - it's amateur night all over the place.

That pretty much sums up my take on V-Day restaurants. I'm not that into the holiday as a whole, anyway - it just seems so contrived to me. (At least, I'm anti-V in theory. Unfortunately for Cooper, I absolutely insist that he get me nothing for the holiday, only to be depressed every February 15th when I find out that one of my friends got six million tulips from her husband. But I digress.)

Despite my antipathy, we do celebrate a little bit. It's as good a reason as any to make a nice dinner. I started my planning early this year, since I was kitchenless for so long and had nothing to do but fantasize about meals I'd make when I was back in business.

So this Thursday, we're going for rich and excessive. Some sort of red meat, possibly wrapped in bacon, and potatoes with truffles (probably this recipe). Oh and - right. Some sort of vegetable.

And for dessert, I'm going to do a little experimenting, using Nat MacLean's guidance. She has a whole list of wines she recommends with chocolate. Many of them are sweet, and we're not really into that, but I'm definitely intrigued by the idea of bittersweet chocolate matched with the Italian red Amarone.

Now I just have to remember to actually shop for the food to make this meal. Because if I forget and we have to have pizza again, well, it would be a very unhappy Valentine's Day indeed.

Perfect for Football Sundays: Brunswick Stew

I just got my weekly Epicurious recipe flash email and it was topped by the most season-appropriate recipe I can imagine: Brunswick stew.

Now, personally, I actually can't stand Brunswick stew. I'm not sure what it is about the flavor combination, but I've just never liked it much. But I still think it's absolutely perfect for a chilly late January football-laden Sunday.

My dad and brother are both huge Redskins fans, so growing up, every single fall and winter Sunday was devoted to the game. Watching my dad watch (and listen, since he turns the sound off the TV and listens to the announcers over an ancient shower radio) a football game today is pretty much exactly like it was to spy on him during football season in, say, 1983. The only real difference is the color of his hair. He's a slave to his sportsy rituals.

While the menfolk testosterone it up in the living room, my mom hangs out in the kitchen, slowcooking something on the stove. The primary requirements for Sunday football dinner are that a) it's easy to eat whenever you get hungry (and in front of the TV); b) it fills up the house with a distinctly cozy winter smell; and c) it goes with biscuits. Which, in turn, go with butter and blackberry jam (preferably with seeds and, back in the day, preferably homemade by my paternal grandparents). Brunswick stew is in heavy Sunday rotation.

And by the way, my mom makes it with chicken, not the more traditional Brunswicky meat. That's right. Squirrel.

So while I don't really like the taste of Brunswick stew, I absolutely love the idea. Good choice, Epicurious. Good choice.

Throwdown with Jonathan and Brad

Reigning Latke Champs
Originally uploaded by Kit Pollard

My alternate title for this post is: Latkes, Latkes, Latkes!

The first weekend in December, I SO got to flex both my foodie muscles and my uber-judgmental mean girl muscles. Our friends Eileen and Brad invited us to their annual holiday party: a latke-off between Brad and his college friend Jonathan.

My previous experience with latkes was limited to the frozen kind from Trader Joe's, along with a few courtesy of Debra Salob's mom back in elementary school, during her annual "this is what Hanukkah's all about" presentation. I actually don't remember much about Mrs. Salob's potato pancakes - I think I spent most of those visits inhaling as much gelt as possible - but I'm afraid that the TJ's version of the treat might now be ruined for me forever.

The party itself was really, really fun: I woke up with a horrendous red wine hangover, made worse by the knowledge that I spent at least 30 minutes telling Eileen and Brad how much I loooved their party playlist. But that was just the icing. The latkes were the main event.

Since my version of latkes comes out of a little blue TJ's box and goes straight in the oven, I had no idea that they involved so much work. But grating a thousand potatoes takes time. Brad and Jonathan spent a good hour and a half, if not longer, holed up in the kitchen at the beginning of the party, trash-talking and sweating out their little treats. It was worth it. (As a side note, the trash-talking actually started earlier in the week, when Brad arrived home to find a package on his doorstep containing an apron that said, "I heart Jonathan's Latkes." Brilliant. I wish B. Flay would get inside his opponents' heads like that.)

Both sets of latkes were awesome, and both happened to have the exact same "surprise" theme: Maryland (shocker). Unfortunately, the Old Bay was a little hard to taste in the latkes themselves (though Jonathan's latkes also included scallions, which were an excellent addition). But the master chefs made up for the setback with their condiments: white vinegar that was straight out of Thrasher's French Fries from Jonathan and an Old Bay sour cream from Brad that made us all wonder why we'd never thought of it before. Seriously: I do not understand why every single seafood or chicken-related quesadilla and taco sold in the state of Maryland doesn't come with a side of Old Bay sour cream.

Unfortunately, in my beaujolais haze, I forgot to bring home a copy of the ballots. You'll just have to trust me when I say they were funny. The low score involved the Irish potato famine. Nothing makes me laugh like the suffering of my ancestors. And nothing bolsters my ludicrous sense of self-importance like getting to judge somebody else's hard work.

In the end, Brad eked out a win over Jonathan, who was sent home with a mini crown and a self-esteem-sparing "good effort" ribbon. And I managed not to spill any wine on the furniture (I think).

So really, a good time was had by all. I just hope I get invited back for the rematch. Next time, I promise, I'll keep my musical enthusiasm in check.

Happy Thanksgiving!

I'm somebody who loves food and especially loves all the rituals and traditions associated with it. So obviously I am all about Thanksgiving. I think that the very end of this sums up why.

Ours started a week ago, on Saturday, when some friends came over for our Mock Thanksgiving (a tradition started years ago and abandoned, but picked back up this year). It's just a bunch of friends, having Thanksgiving dinner like they do on sitcoms (because on the Thanksgiving specials, nobody seems to go home?). A night when we don't have to worry about rushing from one set of in-laws to the other and we don't have to travel and we can just relax. Everbody brought something, so it was a mish-mash of the dishes everyone likes best that their mom makes and Cooper fried a turkey ("casian" fusion - cajun seasoning on the outside, teriyaki marinade on the inside).

Plus, since nobody's favorite mom food involves vegetables, I made some awesome roasted brussels sprouts with a cranberry brown butter and green beans with a mustard butter - both from Food and Wine and also both experimental enough that our friend Mike said, as he was forcing everyone to try them, it was obvious that I was the one who made them.

At any rate, it was fun and delicious and great overall.

Last night, we had dinner at my parents (just a regular dinner) and we hung out there today with my brother and sister and grandmother and uncle, then we went to dinner at Cooper's parents house, which included a million of his relatives and about five outrageously good pies (Cooper's dad is an incredible baker).

Right now I am tired and still stuffed, though I ate hours ago, and feeling generally satisfied and content. And I hope you are, too.

Food, Traditions, Culture

Last week, I mentioned that my favorite part of cooking and entertaining happens just before the meal goes on the table - when it's still all mine, and full of potential. Over the weekend, though, I realized that what I said is not necessarily true all the time. Oh, it's true that I'm selfish most of the time, but maybe not so much during the holidays.

I cooked my ass off this weekend, almost all for other people, and I loved it. But my favorite parts of the weekend were definitely when I was with those other people.

I don't think this is a change in my attitudes so much a by-product of Christmas. In I Must Have Ate Too Much (which I just finished), Jeffrey Steingarten writes about Thanksgiving, saying,

“In the United States, we have the grandest plat convivial of them all, the
holiday turkey, which we share with 245 million other Americans, including the
members of the armed forces, for whom the government spares no expense in
jetting turkeys about the globe. There is an uncanny and intoxicating sense fo
oneness in enjoying a dish with a quarter billion of your fellows. No fussy
eating allowed, no irrational preferences or aversions, no cultish diet fads or
hypochondria. Just feasting and drinking together, essential and fundamental
nourishment, plus lots of trimmings.”

In my "real work" life, I spend my days analyzing research, often trying to understand the unspoken traditions and connections that make a culture what it is (then, of course, I try to figure out how to sell into that culture, but I digress.) When I read Steingarten's comments on Thanksgiving, they hit home for me. Because cooking for me really isn't just a personal transcendent experience, it's also one that connects me to all other people - literally to the entire world.

A few weeks ago, I was emailing with a former colleague - someone from my ethnography days - and I mentioned that I had a food blog. He made the comment that the food bloggers he knows all have such interesting things going on outside of their blogs. They have crazy lives outside of food. I don't know that I'd go so far as to call my life "interesting" - certainly not "crazy" - but I like his point: those who love food often make every effort to live great lives.

I think this ties into what the Manolo wrote a few weeks ago. If you really love food, just as if you really love fashion, or art, or music, or literature, your appreciation can't exist in a vaccuum. It's really an appreciation that stems from the desire to learn about culture.

Of course, no chef can do this much thinking all the time. Sometimes we need to just get dinner on the table. But even then we can remember that even the most mundane meals are so much more than a combination of ingredients.

Mock Thanksgiving

thanksgiving family
Originally uploaded by Kit Pollard.

Amateur Gourmet is making me jealous. And it's not just his book deal. He cooked himself a pre-Thanksgiving dinner. I wanted to do that, too, but I sort of forgot and now I don't have time.

When I first started cooking, I very badly wanted to start a tradition of hosting a mock Thanksgiving for my friends, so we could all experience the joy of a holiday with just our friends, like the characters on sitcoms have.

I took this noble goal and made it a reality. The first year, which was also the year I learned to cook, I made dinner for Cooper, his roommates Bryan and Sam, Bryan's brother Steve and Steve's then-fiance (now wife) Sheila. The six of us ate together all the time, so it was a pretty safe crowd.

Good thing, too, as Sam and I dipped into the Beaujolais Nouveau a teensy bit early, so by the time I actually sat down to dinner I was, well, less than hungry. That year I also somehow stuffed the turkey into the oven in such a way that the top of the bird hit the heating element. Fortunately, everyone pretended it was normal to eat a turkey with big black heating element-shaped tatoo.

The following year was a little better. Our group grew by one, adding Bryan's girlfriend, Margaret. I didn't drink on an empty stomach, and I moved the racks in the oven to give the turkey a little breathing room. The only misstep that year involved homemade cranberry sauce that pretty much definied the word "tart." Fortunately, I had some backup in a can.

Unfortunately, that's where the tradition ended. Sam finished school and took a job in another state. Everyone else moved out of a five mile radius (and we are nothing if not lazy.) This year, I had great intentions, but terrible follow through.

Next year, though, I plan to reinstate. Mock Thanksgiving is a great experience for me because cooking a big, elaborate, ritual-filled dinner is so incredibly gratifying. But I like to think that it's also fun for the guests, who get a chance to give thanks in a situation that completely lacks the underlying tension of a family dinner. Everyone loves family dinners - I certainly do - but they're not always relaxing.

And giving more thanks is never a bad thing, right?