Chocolate Chip: A Modern Classic

I never tire of chocolate chip cookies. They are the standard by which all other cookies are judged. I like a dense, soft, cakey cookie that's bursting with chips.

In junior high, my best friend Becca and I used to make quarter-batches of cookie dough for snacks on a weekly basis. This dough never saw the oven, going instead straight into our tummies. We had no fear of raw eggs.

On one occasion when we were particularly hungry, we tried to improvise at my house while my parents were dieting. This meant my fridge had nothing by way of fat except tub margarine. The low-fat dough didn't come out right, so we added milk. Still weird. We microwaved it to soften things up, which had the unfortunate side effect of melting the chips. As an absolute last resort, we baked the cookies.

They looked like cow patties; the dog wouldn't even touch them. But when my parents came home from work, they were so excited to see the cookies and so hungry from the diet that they devoured the whole plate.

I committed this recipe to memory when I was 13 to speed up the cookie-dough-making process, and I have used it ever since. I am proud to say that, as I push 30 years old, at least half of the dough now becomes actual cookies. This is a major accomplishment in my life. To save yourself from having to diet in order to consume your cookies, follow this recipe. It will give you plump, moist cookies that beg for a glass of milk.

Photo courtesy of Matthew, of course.

Classic Chocolate Chip Cookies
8 oz unsalted butter, softened
3/4 cup granulated sugar
3/4 cup brown sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla
2 eggs
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon baking soda
3 cups flour
12 ounces high-quality chocolate chips

Preheat the oven and a baking stone to 375 degrees.

Cream together butter and sugars. Once all lumps have been pulverized, add the eggs and vanilla and stir until well combined.

If you feel proper, combine the salt, baking soda and flour in a separate bowl, then add to the butter and sugar mixture. I never do this. I just add the salt and baking soda right to the wet stuff, stir it up well, then add the flour a little at a time. Once all of the flour has been incorporated, add the chips.

Drop tablespoons of dough onto your preheated baking stone. Bake for 15 minutes or until golden brown. The cookies will still be soft when you remove them to cool on wire racks.

After accounting for dough eaten raw, I got about 30 cookies.

Goodbye, Tomatoes

I hate to admit it, but summer is over, and there's nothing that pains me worse than saying goodbye to the fresh produce of the summer months. Hasta la vista, strawberries, and hello, root veggies. Long time no see, freezer section. And the hardest goodbye, without a doubt, is tomatoes.

I've loved tomatoes since I rode a purple Cabbage Patch kid bike with training wheels. As a child, a salad for Lauren meant a side dish of tomato wedges, and my relationship with the reddest of fruits has only improved from there: marinara sauce... salsa... caprese salad... oh tomato, how I worship thee! How I long to see your crimson visage shining in my produce bowl! I swear to never put you in the refrigerator, lest your flushed cheeks not greet me every morn! I scoff at the mealy, pink-fleshed impostors of winter months. Your bleach-blond, silicon California cousins who travel many miles to the supermarket cannot fool my tongue. Come back to me next July, my love, and I shall not stray!

There is nothing... nothing... like the ripe, firm, succulent tomatoes of summer. Tomatoes so full of juice that they weigh their stalks to the ground. Tomatoes that beg to be eaten like apples, meaty, sweet and tangy.

With the last tomatoes of the season, I celebrated with the salad below. Its simplicity lets my favorite taste of summer shine in my memory. Same time, next year, tomatoes.

Tomato and Red Onion Salad
Two large, ripe tomatoes, cut into chunks
1/2 a large red onion, halved and sliced
20 leaves fresh basil, shredded
A generous pinch of salt
Several cracks of fresh black pepper
Several glugs of red wine vinegar
A good drizzle of extra-virgin olive oil

Combine all ingredients and let sit for 30 minutes to draw out juices. The vinegar will mellow the onion and highlight the tomato. Eat in one sitting; if you try to store it, you will get tomato soup. Share if you must.

Photo courtesy of Matthew.

That's a Spicy Noodle

Ever since Matthew posted this image on his Flickr but one day ago, he's been getting messages that say "Tell Lauren I need the recipe!" So here you go.

When I arranged the meals for Board meetings at the day job, I learned the trick of creating food that tastes great at room temperature. Some things need to be hot to be flavorful, and other things need to be cold to be safe. Spicy Noodles is tasty tepid and completely dairy-free - good on both counts.

Sriracha is that Asian hot sauce that's on the table at Chinese and Thai restaurants. I can get a huge bottle of it for under $2 at the local Giant Eagle, so it's neither exotic nor expensive. It has a really peppery punch that trails behind the pasta in this dish. On first bite, you'll say "This isn't that spicy." Then you'll swallow, and the stars will come out.

This is a great dish to balance a sweltering summer or heat up a winter evening. Best of all, you'll have the sauce together before the pasta water boils. Feel free to prepare the sauce a day in advance and combine at the last minute. Just keep the nuts and seeds separate - they'll get mushy otherwise.

Spicy Noodles
12-16 oz long, flat pasta, cooked - I use udon or linguini
4 green onions, chopped
2 garlic cloves, minced
2 tablespoons smooth peanut butter
2 tablespoons chili sauce - use sriracha if you like the spice, or sweet if you are a pansy
1 tablespoon soy sauce
1 tablespoon rice vinegar
1 tablespoon sesame oil
2 tablespoons peanut oil
2 tablespoons broth or water
1 tablespoon honey
Big handful cilantro, chopped
Handful roasted peanuts
Palmful sesame seeds

If you are feeling really ambitious, toast the sesame seeds and peanuts in a dry skillet over medium heat until golden brown.

Here is the beauty of this recipe: Whisk together everything but the peanuts and sesame seeds. Add the noodles and stir thoroughly until sauce coats noodles. Top at the last minute with peanuts and sesame seeds... and Presto Pasta Night! You're done!

Many thanks to Matthew for the beautiful image.

Familiar Place, New Food: Eating Korean in Portland

It may surprise you to find out that there are not many Korean restaurants in Alma, Michigan, where I grew up, so it's not really an accident that I have made it 29 years without sampling the delights of the Korean peninsula. Here in the 'Burgh, it's easy to find Thai food and Japanese. I'm frequently disappointed in the Chinese, though, and Korean rarely seems to exist on its own... or at least, I have not run into it in four years of wandering.

So I took my opportunity on the West Coast to make a beeline for some top-notch Asian food. My friend Amy and I asked her roommate for a recommendation near the Japanese Garden, and Rachel said "I think there's a good Korean restaurant over there that starts with a B." She was right. It's called Bewon.

Bewon is a tiny restaurant - 12 tables - that features a seven-course tasting menu with wine pairings for a measly $40 (!). Starting with three-pumpkin soup, stopping off at sweet potato noodles and wrapping up with tea, I could write a dissertation on each course... but instead, here are the greatest hits, and you'll just have to go try the rest for yourself.

1. Gu-jeol-pan
Tiny mounds of ingredients ring the plate, making it resemble an artist's palette. Fortunately, we're not painting, we're eating. Amy and I piles cucumbers, carrots, egg whites and yolks, spicy ground beef, bean sprouts and two kinds of mushrooms onto miniature crepes, then top them with a soy-ginger sauce. Each flavor has its distinct moment on the tongue - carroty sweetness to earthy black mushroom to soothing cucumber - and getting to assemble the rolls ourselves really had us tickled.

2. Main dish accompaniments
Our main dishes - barbecue ribeye for Amy and spicy pork for me - were served on sizzling platters, accompanied by no fewer than nine side dishes in tiny bowls, plus tofu soup and plenty of rice. I don't know about you, but when I cook, my guests are lucky to get two sides. Potatoes. Kimchi. Spicy kimchi. Green beans. Sprouts. A frittata-like concoction. Mushrooms. And my favorite - Mom, hang on to your hat - spicy dried squid. I cannot believe that I just typed the words "dried" and "squid" anywhere close to the word "favorite," but there you have it: LB couldn't get enough dried squid. Just goes to prove what happens when you shut up and eat it.

3. Su-jeong-gwa
Once we had eaten our fill of the 2,493 side dishes, our (incredibly attractive) waiter brought us the most refreshing palate cleanser that I have sampled in my short life. After pungent kimchi, spicy barbecue and the aforementioned spicy dried squid, the cinnamon-and-ginger-infused cider called su-jeong-gwa made our eyes sparkle with delight. As I sipped, the lingering spicy tingles disappeared from my mouth, replaced with sweet apple spice. Even after the kimchi-pork-and-squid extravaganza that was my main course, I would have wagered this stuff made my breath smelled sweet.

Amy and I couldn't shut up about Bewon for the next four days. In fact, even 10 days later, here I am, still running my mouth. Unfortunately the camera phone pics didn't do it justice, so I opted not to include them here, but check BeWon's website and you'll be appropriately impressed.

After that, I can only hope you'll give Korean food a try, in Portland or closer to home.

BeWon Korean Restaurant
1203 NW 23rd Avenue
Portland, OR 97210