Comfort Foods and Indulgences

I am damned if I do and I am damned if I don’t!  The husband does complain at times about the “fresh baked” treats that adorn our kitchen counter(no one else seems to complain…).  And when I do take a break from endless hours in the kitchen, and there is nothing under the glass dome, he sighs, makes a comment, and pouts.

This past Friday night was one of those occassions.  We had just finished a lovely Friday night dinner of roasted salmon with homemade teriyaki sauce, baked brown rice, and sauteed zucchini.  No dessert.  I did, however, have frozen cookie doughs in the freezer, but that wouldn’t do.  Although it wasn’t what he wanted, the kids talked him in to a Pinkberry run.  I was perfectly happy with my mini yogurt with fresh berries, but I knew that baking was going to be part of the weekend agenda.

The year was 1996. I had just moved to San Francisco from Chicago, finally ridding myself of those long midwest winters and trading them in for even colder summers in the Bay Area. All joking aside, it was an eye-opening experience for me and one that I embraced fully. I absorbed the California experience on every level and tasted my way through the City, spending Saturday mornings at the old farmers’ market before it moved to the Ferry Building and familiarizing myself with local foods and personalities.

I grew to love Peet’s coffee (trust me, it took some doing), developed a huge crush on Albert Strauss, became obsessed with Tu Lan and all its horrors and discovered what eating fresh and local was all about.  Somewhere in there I discovered meyer lemons and instantly became obsessed with them. I started buying them whenever I could find them, matching them up with just about anything I could and realizing that while I may suffer from high cholesterol I will never ever develop a case of scurvy. Hallelujah!

Across the country, the not-so-hot-economy is adding appeal to cooking at home. But, I’m not talking about staying home to make your favorite macaroni and cheese. People who have grown accustomed to dining out still want to eat in style.

The interest of cooking at home has also been heightened by attention given to reality cooking shows and the explosion of celebrity chefs on the television and entertainment scene. With such a hunger for eating and entertaining in our own dining rooms, I feel there is a need for ideas on how to eat better at home for less. In other words, a little, “gastronomy for the economy” is in order.

When I patronize a fancy restaurant, I love to indulge a bit and order steak and lobster. However, making quality steak and lobster at home can be pricey. In order to satisfy my urge for this type of meal, I’ve put together a Surf and Turf Sizzle that is easy to prepare and won’t put a dent in your pocketbook. 

Epic. It's my new favorite word. I can't stop saying it. And I'm sure everyone around me can't stand hearing it. It's just stuck in my head and currently living on the edge of my tongue.

I used the word WAY too many times yesterday. Once, when describing the epic "blackberry honey-hole" I found during my walk around the meadow. Then again when I mentioned the epic nachos I was making for dinner. And yet another time when I said I needed to go on this epic diet, after I ate the epic nachos and this epic shake. Oy. I guess I need a new word. I think it's going to be pariah. Don't ask me why.

So here's one of the reasons this shake is epic. First of all, when I buy buttermilk, I always buy the Bulgarian version. You see, buttermilk in its natural state is low-fat. It's the thin liquid left over after you churn butter from cream. Commercially-made buttermilk is created by adding bacteria cultures to milk, then heating the mixture to give it that tart, slightly fermented taste.

BUT, the Bulgarian version is a type of cultured buttermilk in which cream cultures are supplemented or replaced by yogurt cultures and fermented at higher temperatures for higher acidity. It can be more tart and thicker than cultured buttermilk. This is why it's epic. It's the only buttermilk I ever buy. And it is thicker and yummier and makes everything taste great. I hope you have it at your market. And I wish I knew why this process makes it "Bulgarian". Anyone?