Nonpareil Food Magazine

nonpareil the university of chicago food magazine

volume 1 : issue 1

spring 2013

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experimental cooking: gnocchi edition how to survive the dining hall home is where the hearth is peeking at kilwin’s chicago restaurant week chocolate pudding with cherry and almond blood orange roast chicken bon appÊtit the other new year envisiondo: gastro-conference the swede in the kitchen

Dearest readers, eaters, and lovers of all things culinary, Though it may be easy to forget in the middle of all our classes and extracurricular activities and latenight procrastination, the University of Chicago is situated in one of the largest cities in the world, one whose food scene is vibrant and bubbling. And everywhere on campus, you can find foodies: those who will shell out money for the best cupcakes, travel all the way up to Lincoln Park or further for the best sushi restaurants or hoard high-grade snacks in their room, who spend weekends baking or have cooking parties with their friends.

Into this scene enters Nonpareil. Frequently, we are asked what the name means. Like the tastiest of foods, the name has more than one layer of meaning to complement each other: nonpareil refers both to a certain type of round sprinkle and the round cookies that are frequently covered with them, and also means “no parallel”. For a food magazine for a school filled with witty, intelligent, and food-loving people, it seemed extremely appropriate. Like all journeys worth making, the making of the University of Chicago’s food magazine has been a complicated and sometimes frustrating process, but despite all the ups and downs, we finally did it.

From recipes to fudge shops to Chicago Restaurant Week to reflections on being Swedish and what that entails in the culinary sense—it is with deep pleasure and excitement that we bring you the beautiful inaugural issue of Nonpareil. For those who religiously follow Iron Chef, the Food Network, or Martha Stewart; for those who spend hours Yelping new restaurants or looking at those oh-so-tantalizing photographs of food porn in the middle of the night when you should be studying or sleeping (we’ve all been there); for those who live for bold new flavors and the special glisten of perfectly prepared food, for whom the seduction of your taste buds is the best kind of seduction—this one is for you.

Sincerely, YOUR FOUNDERS

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experimental cooking

GNOCCHI

by matt raigosa and frank qian contributors

Ingredients (from lidiasitaly.com)

6 large Idaho potatoes 2 tablespoons salt, plus 1 teaspoon ¼ teaspoon freshly ground white pepper 2 eggs, beaten 1 ½ - 2 cups all-purpose flour, plus

more for your work surface 2 tablespoons butter ½ cup heavy cream 1 (10-ounce) box frozen peas, thawed 2-3 ounces of spinach 1 ounce of tartufo (black truffle paste)

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As a lover of Italian cuisine, I knew that for my first column this dish would have to be Italian, but not greasy. I decided that boiling some pasta made from flour just wouldn’t cut it, but boiling pasta made from potatoes was perfect. Because gnocchi in cream sauce is one of my favorite dishes, I decided to try to make it from scratch.

Not to toot my own horn, but this was the best gnocchi I’ve ever had.

I’m sure that there is better gnocchi out there, but not in Chicago. Really, 3 nonpareil

I think it was the black truffle paste that made the dish since I have never had it with that ingredient. The gnocchi was light, like a cloud, and fluffy like picked cotton, with a texture neither too smooth nor overly sticky. The sauce was rich and savory. I also added arugula just to experiment, and I have to say, I’m not going to go back to the days of arugula-less gnocchi. The slightly bitter, unique taste and crunch of the arugula contrasted the smoothness of the gnocchi and creaminess of

the sauce. The peas and spinach added a burst of sweetness with every bite.

Overall, it was a savory, sweet dish that was accented by the expensive black truffle paste. •••

How to Survive:

by Holly Zaharchuck

Whole W

DINING

contributor

heat Bre

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+ press it!

UCHICAGO

chick peas

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The edibles offered by the dining halls on campus are notorious for barely living up to their name. Cereal, ice cream, and toast are generally the “safest” and best-loved options, but, if you’re willing to spend a little extra time figuring out what to eat, you can make the dining hall’s offerings work for you. Case in point: sandwiches. I eat at Pierce, where the sandwich bar itself is pretty sparse, but the panini press is willing to toast (almost) anything.

The key to making interesting sandwiches is to make use of the grill items, hot entrees, and salad bar fixings. If you’re a vegetarian, you can put together a tasty sandwich by mashing chickpeas and feta cheese from the salad bar with olive oil and Dijon mustard from the sandwich station, as well as lemon and honey from the tea area, then spreading the mixture onto whole grain bread with spinach, cucumbers (preferably the marinated ones), and/ or carrots. Cold or panini-pressed, this is one of my favorite sandwiches to have for lunch.

But if you’re of the carnivorous per-

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olive oil + dijon mustard

Veggies

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lemon + Honey

suasion, grab a chicken breast from the grill station and make a sandwich with Sriracha sauce, Swiss cheese, Dijon mustard, and lettuce. Even better, if it’s burrito day, ask for just a tortilla (or if you’re me, then a tortilla with the beans and hopefully guacamole). You will probably be asked again if you’re sure, because it’s a strange request,

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feta cheese

but the dining staff will comply. Fill it up with corn and black beans from the salad bar, maybe some chicken from the grill, and some pineapple salsa if they’re offering it that day. If you’re feeling ambitious, fold it up and 4 also ask to have itnonpareil panini pressed: You won’t regret it. ••• nonpareil 4

home is where

the hearth

AN INSIDE LOOK AT THE UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO’S OWN MASTER CHEF AND HIS WANDERING UNDERGROUND RESTAURANT by jenny swann managing director

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It is February 13th and I have some unusual dinner plans. I know exactly what I’ll be having for dinner, but I have no idea who I’ll be eating with. I also have no clue where the dinner will be served. Just before 6, an email arrives in my inbox that gives me a little direction: at 8pm, I am to be waiting in the first floor lobby of the Regenstein Library. That is all.

This may seem like a pretty cryptic way to find one’s food for the evening. But this level of suspense is normal at The Hearth, an underground kitchen founded and run by first-year undergraduate Robert Lipman. Even though it is only a few months old, a seat at one of the monthly meals is already an incredibly hot-ticket item: nearly five hundred people entered the lottery in the hopes of scoring one of the ten available seats at his last event. The menus are centered on themes ranging from “Coffee” to “Miyazaki” and are posted on Lipman’s website before the lottery opens. But even if you know the names of the dishes you’ll be eating, the dinner is far from predictable. The dishes themselves may be a little hard to visualize (“Walnut, Cream, Dust”), and no one but Robert knows the dinner’s location until a few hours before the event.

At 8pm, I arrive in the first floor of the Reg and meet my ten dinner companions for the first time. There are fourth years, third years, second years and even a recently graduated alumnus. The diners hail from both coasts and the Midwest and their majors range from English to Econ and MELK. A few of us had met before, and others are complete strangers. But one unites the group: a major sweet tooth. Tonight we are testing our sugar tolerances, for February’s theme is “Just Desserts” in honor of Valentine’s Day. Each of the five cavity-inducing courses is modeled after a dessert from a fine dining establishment around the world, ranging from Copenhagen’s Noma to the French Laundry in Lipman’s native California.

Seemingly out of nowhere, Lipman

appears in the lobby and leads the bewildered group past cubicles and book stacks to a secluded study room on the third floor. The otherwise unremarkable room has been transformed into a temporary restaurant: china dishes and handwritten menus share the table with little pots of pink flowers, and the entire southern wall has been turned into Lipman’s makeshift kitchen. We get settled in and he serves us a shot glass filled with what could easily be mistaken for sand, along with one caution: don’t eat it all in one go. We tilt back the glasses and encounter the first of many edible surprises of the evening: the moment the powder hits our tongues, it transforms into a caramel as toothsome as any you might find in a wrapper. “Tapioca maltodextrin,” says Lipman in response to the collection of pleased and mystified faces, “it makes pretty much anything into a powder.”

The surprises continue over the course of the dinner. We sample edible flowers, powdered olive oil, dehydrated blackberries, sheets of balsamic meringue, and even chocolate wine made in a centrifuge. But the most unexpected element of the evening came disguised as a “?” on our menus between the fourth and fifth courses. As we nursed steadily intensifying sugar rushes, Lipman disappeared for a few moments and returned with the entire ensemble of Unaccompanied Women who sereneded us with singing Valentines. As Lipman served dessert to the performers, I spoke with my tablemates about everything from favorite food blogs and bread baking advice to the perks being an English major and the ups and downs of taking a quarter off. This seems to be one of the greatest perks of dining at the Hearth. The unusual setting and eclectic collection of people tends to bring even the shyest diners out of their shells and makes for very honest and interesting conversation among complete strangers.

If this massive undertaking sounds

exhausting, it is. By the end of the meal, Lipman is visibly wearied. Each dinner requires countless hours of research and planning, about 15 hours of prep work in his dorm kitchen and a large degree of uncertainty. In most cases, Lipman has never attempted the dishes before. The afternoon of the dinner often involves several calls home for advice from his mother, a former cookbook author and Lipman’s culinary inspiration. Each dinner also requires time spent working out the logistics involved in conducting a complicated private dinner in an on-campus location (Q: How does one transport a stocked refrigerator into the Reg? A: Pretend you are a delivery person and someone on the third floor placed an order).

But for all this effort, Lipman only requests enough compensation to cover the cost of the ingredients for the meal. The total bill for the five course, multi-hour affair clocked in at $25. Some might wonder why a man like Lipman, who claims that there is no limit or boundary to what he’d spend on a meal, doesn’t charge more for the Hearth dinners. After all, the demand for the dinners is great enough that he could jack up the price and still fill the table. But for Lipman, the answer is simple: “I don’t want to push the boundaries of what college student can spend,” he says, “I want them to go in feeling comfortable and be surprised.” If you are lucky enough to get a ticket, Lipman delivers on his promise: The Hearth is nothing if not unexpected. •••

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KILWIN’S 52nd Kimibark Plaza

Ribs N' Bibs

53rd Pizza Capri

54th

lakeshore

Rajun Cajun

55th Harper

Blackstone

Dorchester

Kenwood

Kimbark

Woodlawn

BY BEN FLEISHER AND JEANNE LIEBERMAN contributors

As a self-diagnosed foodie in Hyde felt open and energetic, infused by toffees. Between the samples and my Park, I’ve been dying for a world-class lively colors refracting off the white actual order I indulged in their chococandy shop in the neighborhood. A walls. Yet thinking back now, the shiny late fudge, pecan turtles, mocha chip place that makes me want to brave blank surroundings can give Kilwins a ice cream, and chocolate raspberry ice the coldest winter night just to devour slightly sterile look. cream. The fudge was pure all the way their ice cream. A restaurant that comThe service is friendly and remark- through, without nuts or raisins. The pels me to return the instant I leave ably efficient. I never waited more than turtles feature milk or dark chocolate, merely to stare in awe at their inven- ten seconds for their assistance, while a whole pecan, and light caramel. The tive candies. Kilwins is a fine plane to at the same time they never seemed raspberry chocolate has actual pieces indulge a sweet tooth, but I found it too too pushy. The employees’ smiles nev- of raspberries in the ice cream, and easy to leave without the mocha chip is not The ice cream and fudge both had rich creatively named, wanting more.

Kilwins abandons precisely chocolate flavors that are hard to resist. At containing the ‘ye olde’ chocmocha ice cream and olate shoppe’ feel the same time, I found it all too easy to share chocolate chips. for a more sleek and The chocolate the fudge with a friend. A great candy shop fudge modern look. As you flavor was enter Kilwins, white ought to make friends either fight for their food dark and intense, reflective walls greet with slightly higher or buy more. you. On your left are notes of sweetness the fudge selection, in the background. then the chocolates, and finally the ice er left their faces even as I mumbled The creaminess of the fudge instantly cream. Several giant pictures of can- through my order with my standard struck me: my teeth sunk into it like a dy adorn the walls, hanging above the UChicago awkwardness. More impor- warm marshmallow. This fudge was far quintet of small tables near the back of tantly, I was offered a free sample of less viscous that most others, a fluidity the store. Pop music quietly plays, al- fudge immediately upon entering—an that I enjoyed. On second bite, howevlowing for easy conversation between offer you cannot refuse. er, I noticed a layer of thickness at the friends. I have mixed feelings regardKilwins has a wide selection of top. The fudge had been out so long a ing the surroundings. At the time they chocolates, fudges, ice cream, and film had formed around it, making for

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If you’re new to cooking and still feeling unsure of yourself in the kitchen, making fudge is a great way to build your culinary confidence.

Most fudge recipes are variations on a simple mixture of semi-sweet chocolate, sweetened condensed milk and butter. From this base you can add everything from nuts and pretzels to dried cherries and sour patch kids. For a great variation in texture, try including one crunchy mix-in and one fruity pick. This recipe uses cinnamon toast crunch and crystallized ginger, but any mix of crisp and chewy will do.

INGREDIENTS 14 ounces sweetened condensed milk 17 ounces semi-sweet chocolate chips 1 1/2 tablespoons butter 2 cups Cinnamon Toast Crunch cereal, crushed 4 ounces crystallized ginger, chopped

the discomforting sensation of biting from a hard candy into a cream.

I had a similar experience with the chocolate raspberry ice cream. The flavor smoothly blended the sweet chocolate and tart raspberries, accenting notes with the occasional bite into a berry. Yet the consistency was closer to a rice pudding than an ice cream — the velvety chocolate seemed to have small seeds in it, distracting from the flavors.

The mocha chocolate chip stood out above the rest. Deeper tastes of the coffee stood in amazing contrast to the bright chocolate chips. The texture, however, set it apart from other ice creams. It had a remarkably thick consistency, broken by the occasionally melting-in-your-mouth chocolate chip.

I felt neutrally towards the chocolate turtle. If you like more pecans and less caramel in your candy, this treat is for you. The earthy pecan worked perfectly with the milk chocolate, making a fine candy. But as for the sweet and salty tang of caramel that underlines the chocolate and contrasts beautiful-

ly with the pecan? I found it wanting. I physically saw caramel coming out of the treat, but it didn’t translate into taste. Yet, even without the caramel the chocolate and pecan engaged in a fun battle between nutty and sweet.

I would return to Kilwins. Even if the turtle was light on caramel, it still presented an admirably tasty treat.

The ice cream and fudge both had rich chocolate flavors that are hard to resist. At the same time, I found it all too easy to share the fudge with a friend.

A great candy shop ought to make friends either fight for their food or buy more. Kilwins was good, but not great. •••

INSTRUCTIONS 1 Prepare your mix-ins and assemble them near your work station.

2. Find a large baking pan with 1-inch tall sides and line with wax paper.

3. Combine sweetened condensed milk, chocolate chips and butter in a pot or double boilerA double boiler is preferable, but any pot will work as long as you stir the mixture constantly and are careful not to overcook it.

4. Place the pot on medium-low heat, (if using a double boiler, heat until the water is at at a steady boil.)

Stir the mixture constantly until the ingredients melt, about 3 minutes.

5. Stir until the mixture tbecomes shiny, about another 2 minutes.

Reduce heat to low and add the Cinnamon Toast Crunch and crystalized ginger. Stir very quickly until the ingredients become completely homogenous. Immediately remove from heat.

6. Spread the mixture into prepared pan and smooth with spoon.

7. Refrigerate at least 5 hours, or until firm. nonpareil 8

David Chicago Restaurant Burke's Week Primehouse 2013 Chicago Restaurant Week February 1 - 10 Lunch:: $22 Dinner : $33 or $44

David Burke’s Primehouse’s restaurant week menu offered appetizers including a wedge salad, lobster bisque and savory fusion dumplings, while customers could select their entrée from a choice of filet mignon, 40-day dry aged beef burger or a pan-roasted salmon. For dessert, the Primehouse offered a sampler trio of chocolate mousse cake, s’mores ice cream and a cheesecake pop. While waiting for our food to arrive, the servers provided us with crisp and airy cheese popovers served in a metal measuring cup, which were delicious and so light that they didn’t spoil our appetites for the courses to come.

The fusion dumplings were savory and featured non-traditional fillings of lamb and lobster. The lobster filling was the more striking of the two and tasted tangy and flavorful beside the more dull-seeming lamb.

Beef was the main highlight of the entrée menu, as is appropriate for a steakhouse;

s Conducted by the James Beard Award nominee Andrew Zimmerman, the Michelin one-starred restaurant Sepia moves to the Jazz Age melodies of Louis Armstrong and Cole Porter. The interior, with its weathered brick, old photographs, and vintage decorations, hearkens to 1920s Chicago, while avoiding excessive nostalgia. Everything is tasteful, elegant, and refined. However, the three course restaurant week dinner menu failed to live up to these expectations.

The three-course dinner menu began with either a papardelle with venison sugo or a salad of mustard greens and chicories with bosc pear, almonds, and a saba vinaigrette. The papardelle was perfectly al dente, but the hearty venison sugo was so minimal in proportion to the papardelle that the dish at times only hinted of there ever being venison. The salad was rather underwhelming though the flavors did dance pleasantly among the sweet pear, nutty mimolette, and sharp greens.

The main course consisted either of 9 nonpareil

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pan roasted coalfish with smoked potato and clam chowder or slow cooked breast of veal with barley risotto and gremolata.

The coalfish served was of a minimal size— barely an ounce—, and the chowder was equally minimal. Portion issues aside, the dish was cooked well; although the skin noticeably lacked crispness, the watercress complemented the soft delicate flavor of the fish, which also paired well with the chowder which was smoky without being overpowering. The veal was served in a pinwheel shape atop a bed of barley risotto. The jus from the veal gave the risotto warmth and body, but the veal itself was overpowering in flavor and was hard to finish.

The offerings for dessert were either a chocolate tart atop a graham cracker or a coconut pecan cake with caramel rum syrup—both of which were given as quite meager portions. The chocolate tart was unspectacular, being not much more than chocolate ganache atop a round graham cracker with a bit of merengue with some

David Burke’s uses a dry-aging method to intensify the flavor of their USDA prime grade beef. The cunningly named Burker shunned traditional burger toppings like tomatoes and lettuce order to spotlight the tender, filling, slab of beef that was more substantial than the bun containing it. The filet mignon was also tender and pleasantly devoid of fattiness.

Our entrees were accompanied by two sides: a creamy plate of mashed potatoes with basil and a dish of sliced mushrooms with onions, both of which perfectly complemented the beefy meals.

Of the trio of sweets we ended our meal with, the creamy chocolate mousse with an intense chocolate flavor and soft marshmallow topping that was easily the winner.

For this hearty meal, the $22 price tag was definitely a complete steal.

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chocolate and Bailey’s sauce pooled about for plating aesthetics. The coconut pecan cake, though, was perfectly concocted.

The fluffy, rich cake had a solid balance of coconut flavor which was brought out nicely by the caramel rum syrup. It was unfortunate that there was not more of it.

Dinner ended with complimentary coffee, which, although freely flowing, was accompanied by commercial sugar packets—something not usually seen in expensive restaurants. I wondered why the coffee was offered after dessert, when I would have much preferred to have coffee with dessert.

I desperately wanted to enjoy everything about Sepia, and everything seemed to be pointing to a great evening, that is, until the food came out. I was left wondering how this could have happened. The décor was phenomenal; the staff, professional and efficient; the reputation, impeccable. However, the food—the very reason one eats at a restaurant—was just so underwhelming.

Capital Grille With over 48 locations in 20 states, the Capital Grille steakhouse boasts high standards. Their steak typically costs between forty and fifty dollars, making Restaurant Week the ideal time to try out their premium selection for a great value. The restaurant is wonderful for a night out, with high ceilings, an expansive dining room, and a beautiful open kitchen creating a classic romantic environment.

For the first appetizer course, I opted for the Clam Chowder over the salad. The soup did not strike me as very exceptional; it was a standard cream soup, very creamy but on the blander side.

For the main course, I ordered a medium-rare Parmesan and Herb Marinated Tournedos. The tournedos, more commonly known as a type of filet mignon, was extremely tender at the center but the rest of the steak was slightly overdone. The rim was a little stiff and hard to chew. It was garnished very simply with only parmesan, herbs and cherry tomatoes. My favorite part was the sauce, which flavored the meat and left a lasting savory impression.

As for the sides, the mashed potatoes

Roka Akor

were very average, a little too rich and creamy for my preference. The creamed spinach, although also very buttery, was better—it felt lighter than the mashed potatoes, and the onion and garlic blended into the cream without being overwhelming.

For dessert, I ordered the Classic Crème Brulée, a smooth vanilla custard with a crisp caramelized top layer. The berries were fresh and slightly tangy, balancing nicely with the rich custard. My friend ordered the Flourless Chocolate Espresso Cake, a great choice for those who don’t like desserts as much. The cake is very light and not too sweet. The flour creates a powdery nice texture before it melts in your mouth.

But overall, I was a bit disappointed with Capital Grille Restaurant Week menu.

They do feature the most popular main dishes but the quality of the steak was underwhelming, and the appetizers were generic, especially compared to some of the more fun and creative options offered by other Restaurant Week participating restaurants.

Roka Akor, a contemporary steak, seafood and sushi restaurant, has been gaining popularity for their fresh and flavorful sushi since they opened in July 2011.

For their second Chicago Restaurant Week, Roka Akor offered a $22 lunch menu with starters of white miso soup, Wagyu beef and kimchi dumplings, and spicy crispy butterfish roll, and a choice of one out of three entrées served with steamed rice. Options for the entrée consisted of the salmon teriyaki with pickled cucumber, the cumin BBQ pork loin with shaved vegetables and cilantro, and the grilled seasonal vegetables with truffle soy butter.

My two friends and I began the meal each with a bowl of their soothing white miso soup, which complemented the crispiness of the beef and kimchi dumplings. The spicy crispy butterfish roll was a combination of velvety and crunchy, cold and hot.

The chilled fish and jalapeño slices from the roll topped off the hot starters.

I ordered the cumin BBQ pork loin with shaved vegetables and cilantro, but also had a taste of my friend’s salmon teriyaki with pickled cucumber. Unfortunately, I did not have the chance to try the grilled seasonal vegetables with truffle soy butter… they were some expensive seasonal vegetables.

The chefs grilled the salmon and pork under a neon purple hood decorated with

a collection of hand-cut nails, right in the center of the sleek, timber interior of the restaurant. It was a homey and refreshing change to actually see my food cooked.

Even though there was live action grilling, there was no smoke to cloud the stylish architecture of the wine collection or bar.

Roka Akor’s cumin BBQ pork loin with snippets of cilantro was an explosion of flavor. The addition of cumin and cilantro to the more traditional BBQ flavor made the bite-sized slices of succulent pork sweet and spiced. (It slightly reminded me of a northeastern Thai dish that is eaten with sticky rice.)

My friend’s order of the salmon was cooked perfectly, the fish firm and tender.

This entrée was served simply with a wedge of a lemon and homemade teriyaki sauce.

Each bite was a zesty and buttery blend of salmon flakes, and nibbles of the crisp pickled cucumber balanced out the palate.

Not only did the taste of the food surpass my already high expectations, but also the service was impeccable. My drink was never half empty before the server refilled it, which was very often because I had to chug water to prevent myself from stuffing my face with such good food. The friendliness of the staff members brought warmth to the elegant and modern atmosphere, making my experience tasty and relaxing. nonpareil 10

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chocolate pudding with cherry and almond

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blood orange roast chicken

BY HOLLY ZAHARCHUCK contributor

Winter food for me is full of warmth and citrus. The days are short and produce is expensive, but a plethora of blood oranges, Meyer lemons, and tangerines are in season and at the peak of their bright, sweetly acidic flavor. I love making use of citrus during these cold months, not only because they are in season and therefore (comparatively) cheap, but also because they bring such vivid flavors to warm, cozy meals. For Valentine’s Day, I wanted to create a meal that was centered around blood oranges, since I thought this would be an appropriate focus for the holiday fare. They have a unique, sweet flavor and are visually stunning, with their mottled crimson-orange flesh. The brininess of the olives pairs well with the sweetness of these oranges, and both acidic components balance the earthy cumin and succulent roasted chicken. ••• INGREDIENTS 4 bone-in chicken thighs 2 tablespoons cumin 2 teaspoons salt 1 ¼ tablespoon olive oil, divided 3 blood oranges ¼ - ½ cup marinated green olives, depending on your love of olives ½ cup chicken stock 1 bunch watercress, washed and stems removed INSTRUCTIONS 1. Preheat the oven to 450°F and warm a medium, oven-proof skillet with 1/4 cup olive oil over medium-high heat. Stir together the cumin and salt in a small bowl. Pat the chicken thighs dry and sprinkle on the cumin-salt mixture. Massage the mixture into the chicken.

2. Cut one of the blood oranges into quarters. Lay the chicken 13 nonpareil

(original recipe)

skin-side down into the hot oil, letting the skin brown and crisp.

Fry the blood orange quarters alongside the chicken. Turn the chicken and orange slices over after about 4 minutes. Toss in the desired amount of olives.

3. While cooking the chicken, oranges, and olives (around 3 minutes on this side), quarter the remaining 2 blood oranges and juice into a bowl.

4. Remove the fried orange quarters and set aside in a small oven-proof dish. Pour the chicken stock and blood orange juice into the skillet and add the remaining orange quarters.

5. Place the skillet in the oven and cook for ~15 minutes until the chicken is cooked through. If you press down on the flesh near the bone and the juices run clear, or, if you push down with your fingertip on the thickest part and the flesh feels firm, then it is done. Remove the skillet from the oven and place it back on the stove. Take the chicken out of the pan, place on a plate (with high enough sides to contain the juice that will seep out during this resting process), and set aside for roughly 8 minutes. This allows the juices to redistribute throughout the meat and prevent it from drying out. In the meantime, simmer the sauce, olives, and oranges over medium heat and place the fried orange quarters in the hot oven.

6. Once the chicken has rested, the sauce has reduced, and the orange quarters have caramelized, you’re done. Serve with the watercress, which should be dressed with the remaining tablespoon of olive oil and a sprinkle of salt. Squeeze the fried, roasted orange quarters over the chicken just before eating.

bon appétit

BY ANDREA RUMMEL contributor

A quarter abroad doesn’t last very long. It’s enough time to finish a civ sequence, of course, but a mere ten weeks in Paris just wasn’t long enough.

It wasn’t long enough to explore the back alleys of Montmartre or the narrow pedestrian-only streets of the zones piétonnes. It wasn’t long enough to shop at every outdoor market or talk to every vendor, and it wasn’t long enough to find the cheapest espresso or have breakfast on every bridge as the sun rose over the Seine and burned the mist away. Ten weeks wasn’t nearly long enough to try every pastry, or hunt down the absolute best croissant in the city. But that’s not to say I didn’t try, adhering to a strict regimen of two pastries a day.

I heard whispered rumors of a croissant so fresh, so good, that steam rose out of it when it was broken open. There was talk of a falafel to rival true Middle Eastern falafel–crisp balls of falafel, fried eggplant, purple cabbage, tahini dripping down the sides. There were escargots to try, and crème brûlées around every corner, and good French cheese at little fromageries open to the street. A small wheel of camembert I bought was so stinky I had to throw open the windows in my room until it was eaten.

Paris to me was a city of friendly faces: of storekeepers asking where I was from and where I learned my French, whether or not I’d like to try a sample of this or that chocolate or ice cream flavor (to which the reply was always oui, s’il vous plaît). It was a city of cobblestoned streets and lovely old churches and bookstores and French history and culture. But what impressed themselves indelibly upon each of my experiences were the smells wafting from the bakeries, the taste of a chocolate eclair, the satisfaction after a good French meal.

There were the glazed madeleines at Blé Sucré on that rainy day in November. The mulled wine and ham and cheese sandwiches at the Montmartre wine festival. The mint tea and baklava at the Grande Mosquée de Paris. The poppy seed and apple strudel from a Kosher bakery on the rue des Rosiers in the Marais. Row upon row of freshly baked tartes citrons, macarons, pains au chocolat, pains suisses…

And then, always, a quick stop (or an entire afternoon) for an espresso.

Paris opened up to me when I began to explore that aspect of French culture which is so deeply influential and so important to the rhythm of life in the city: the cuisine. •••

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I heard whispered rumors of a crois

that steam rose out o 15 nonpareil

ssant so fresh, so good

of it when it was broken open.� nonpareil 16

the other new year

BY ANGELA QIAN editor-in-chief

review: ming hin MING HIN CUISINE, bursting with festive red and gold colors behind its inconspicuous entrance, was even more jam-packed than usual on the Saturday before the lunar new year.

A milling crush of hungry patrons gazed hungrily at displays of rice cakes and red candies littered on backdrops of red paper.

January 10th marked the change in the twelve-animal cycle of the Chinese zodiac calendar from the year of the dragon to the year of the snake. Though countries all over Asia celebrate the lunar new year with different customs and foods, the Chinese new year (called the Spring Festival) is always a major event. Families hold huge reunions and gather to celebrate with alcohol, red envelopes of money for the children, colorful decorations, shouted greetings of good fortune and, of course, dishes and dishes of lavishly prepared food.

There are many traditional Chinese dishes that are created to properly celebrate and welcome the new year. They are mostly chosen for their names, which are infused with symbolism for fortune and luck. These dishes include spring rolls, dumplings, and sweets, all of which were abundantly featured around Chinatown. Many restaurants, including Ming Hin, had special additional meals that also featured delicacies such as lobster and fish.

• Potstickers and dumplings, with a wide variety of meat and vegetables fillings, are eaten because their shapes resemble older forms of money called ingots. They are thought to bring in fortune in making money throughout the new year.

• Spring rolls get their name from their immense popularity during the spring festival which augurs the lunar new year. Frying these rolls turns them a deep golden color, which links them to treasure and fortune.

• Fish, or yu, is a homonym with “surplus”, and is typically eaten with the hope that each year will bring a surplus of good fortune.

• Rice cake, or nian gao, isa steamed dessert traditionally made with glutinous rice flour and sweetened with sugar and fruits. The cake is a staple food during the Chinese new year, and the name plays on the word for “high”, which can be applied to improvement in business, school, or other areas of life.

• Oranges and tangerines are also auspicious symbols. Their bright colors and names are associated with gold, fortune, prosperity and luck. They are popular as ornaments and decorations, and are also served after savory meals.

AS A DIM SUM HOTSPOT, the Saturday morning preceding the Spring Festival was a predictably busy time to be visiting Ming Hin. Ming Hin produces some of the best dim sum in Chinatown, and our morning’s orders didn’t disappoint. The shrimp-filled potstickers were perfectly crispy and were served with hoisin and sweet and sour dipping sauces. The shumai, neat blocks of silken tofu and spring onion pancakes were all delicately flavored and lacked the deluge of sauces, salt, oil or flavorings that characterize more sub-par Chinese restaurants.

Because the Spring Festival is traditionally a time to eat sweets, we also ordered a few Westernized dishes which have become staples of Chinese food throughout Hong Kong and the mainland. The glaze-drizzled baked pork buns were warm, soft, and far superior to the pasty buns offered by many of the Chinatown bakeries. We also ordered a sampling of Portuguese egg tarts, which were small, flaky, and wonderfully buttery. After the meal, we ventured out to buy a small rice cake from the bakery across the way and enjoyed a few small, sweet bites to round out the morning meal. •••

17 nonpareil

chinese new year steamed rice cake (from chow.com) Unlike their breadier Western cousins, rice cakes possess a chewy, slightly gummy texture. They are traditionally steamed rather than baked and derive their sweetness from the glutinous rice flour, unrefined sugar, and additions of dried fruit or dates.

INGREDIENTS 2 cups water, plus more for steaming 1 (1-pound) package Chinese brown sugar 1 pound sweet rice flour (about 3 cups) 2 tablespoons vegetable oil, plus more for coating the pan 2 teaspoons almond extract 10 dried seedless Chinese red dates (also known as jujubes) for garnish (optional) 1/2 teaspoon toasted sesame seeds, for garnish INSTRUCTIONS 1. Place 2 cups of water and brown sugar in a medium saucepan. Set over medium heat and stir occasionally until the sugar has completely dissolved, about 10 minutes. (Do not let it boil.) Remove from heat and let cool until warm to the touch.

2. Meanwhile, fill a 14-inch wok with about 1 1/2 inches of water and place a 12-inch bamboo steamer inside. (The water should not touch the bottom of the steamer.) Bring the water to a simmer over medium heat. Coat a 9-inch round cake pan with vegetable oil; set aside.

3. Place the rice flour in the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with a paddle attachment. With the mixer on low speed, slowly pour in the sugar-water mixture, beating until smooth, about 2 minutes. If needed, stop to scrape down the sides of the mixer with a rubber spatula.

4. Add the measured oil and continue beating on low speed until the batter is smooth and the oil is incorporated, about 5 minutes. Add the almond extract and beat until just incorporated. Pour the mixture into the prepared pan.

5. Carefully place the pan in the bamboo steamer or on top of the foil coils.

Cover the bamboo steamer with its lid or cover the wok or frying pan with a tightfitting lid or a sheet of aluminum foil. (Do not cover the cake pan directly with a lid or foil.) Steam until the cake is very firm to the touch, about 3 hours, checking every hour and replenishing the wok or pan with hot tap water as needed. While the cake is still warm, garnish with the dates (if using) and sesame seeds. Let cool on a rack to room temperature. Run a knife around the outside of the cake, then slip a thin spatula under the cake to lift it out. Serve it sesame seed side up.

nonpareil 18

envisiondo

FOOD CONFERENCE

ย ย ฦคย ย ย วฆย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย วก ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย วก ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย อ อ ย ย วก อ อ อ อ วค ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย วฆย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย วข ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย วก ย วก ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ฦคย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย วข ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย วค ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ฦคย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย วค

HIP EURS

REN P E R NT E E H T CE N E I R EXPE

ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย วก ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย

ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย วก ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย วก ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย วฆย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย วค ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย วฆย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ฦคย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย วฆย ย ย ย ย วค ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย

19 nonpareil

ย ย ย ย ย ย วฃ ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ฦกวก ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย

Featuring: ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ศ ย ย ฦก ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ศ ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย วก ย ย ย ย วก ย ย ย ย ย ย ย วก ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ศ ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ศ ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย วค ย ย ย ศ ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ศ ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ศ ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ศ ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย วค ย ย ย ย ย ศ ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ศ ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ศ ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ศ ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ศ ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ศ ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ศ ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ศ ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ศ ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ศ ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ศ ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ศ ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย

ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ศ ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ศ ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย

ย -

ย

ย ย ย

E CREATING TH EXPERIENCE ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย วก ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย วก ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย วก ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย วค ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย วก ย ยฑย ย ย วก ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย วก ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย วก ย ย ย วก ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย วก ย ย ย ย วก ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย วก ย ฦกย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ฦคย ย ย ย ย ย วค

ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย อ อ อ ย ย ย ย ย ย วฆ ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย อ อ อ ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย วค

THE GAME CHANGERS ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย วค ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย วก ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย วก ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย วฆย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย วค ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย วก ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย วฏ ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ฦชย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย วก ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย วค

ND A ON I T MO G O PR KETIN R MA ย ย ย ย ย ย วซ ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย

ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย

ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย

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ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย วซ ย ย

ย ย ย ย ย ย วฏย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย

ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย วก ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย วก ย ย ย ย ย ย ย วค ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย

ย ย ย ย

nonpareil 20

managing director

BY JENNY SWANN

THE SWEDE IN THE KITCHEN 21 nonpareil

I

am not a good Swede.

Though the genetic lottery granted me almost six feet of daunting Scandinavian height, I am otherwise separated from my heritage. I struggled vainly with the names of Swedish cities in Steig Larsson’s Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (Bjorneborgsvagen?). I couldn’t pick the Queen of Sweden out of a crowd of one. To be honest, I know shamefully little about the land of my ancestors. But there is one thing I can say with certainty about the Swedes: They know what they’re doing with butter. More specifically, they know what they’re doing with butter cookies. The people of Sweden seem to have mastered the art of crafting butter and sugar into every conceivable form: puffed or flat, chewy or delicate as lace, pressed in molds or sliced into logs, doused in pearl sugar or dotted with fruity jam. My personal favorites are Kolakakor, affectionately known as Swedish Cola Cookies in my family.

The recipe for these goodies was passed along to my mother from a Swedish friend many years ago, and I was in grade school when the two of us made them together for the first time. Kolakakor are the Scandinavian versions of chocolate chip cookies: unpretentious, but comforting in their simplicity. The dough is a creamy mix of butter, sugar, flour, and baking soda with a splash of vanilla and a drizzle of dark Swedish syrup, though Karo will suffice in a pinch. Together, my mother and I mixed the dough and turned the honey colored lump out onto a baking sheet. We rolled it out with steady, even movements until it covered the pan in a paper-thin layer. After a leisurely stint in the oven, the cookies caramelized into a toasty nut brown color and smelled exactly how a homemade cookie should smell:

that addictive mix of warmth and vanilla and sugar that Bath and Body Works has tried so hard to bottle but has never successfully matched. While the cookies were still warm, my mother and I carved them into irregularly sized strips like little toasty tangrams.

Though I have never fully understood why we intentionally slice them into unequal pieces, it is a tradition-- and as is often the case with these matters, that is reason enough. The cookies themselves are humble affairs. Their crumbly forms lack thick pillows of frosting or mountains of colored sprinkles. They do not shock the eye with garish colors or the mouth with cavity-inducing amounts of sweetness.

They merely sit idly on the counter while you eat one. And then two. And then seventeen. After all, they are so impossibly crumbly and delicate that they couldn’t possibly contain any calories.

Can the consumption of Swedish Cola Cookies make me more Swedish?

Probably not. But in spite of this, they do not fail to make me feel more Swedish. My childhood was not characterized by a particularly strong sense of cultural tradition, and as a result the space between me and my Scandinavian roots often feels as great as the distance between Chicago and Stockholm. But these cookies, while modest and unassuming, have the miraculous power to draw me a little closer to my heritage. The simple caramel strips stand as testament to the deep cultural and emotional power of food, for they accomplish the herculean task of drawing me closer to the land of my ancestors. Not bad for a cookie that only requires six pantry staples and a half-hour stint in the oven. •••

editor-in-chief managing director public relations treasurer design staff

contributors

angela qian jenny swann ma’ayan malter catherine lee hyeong-sun cho david huang elisa li jenny mao ben fleisher kay li jeanne lieberman frank qian nick rekenthaler matthew raigosa andrea rummel tananya thamthieng sherry tseng holly zaharchuck

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