Category Archives: Funny Iris quote

Shroom heap

This morning Iris and I went to the U District Farmers Market. Shelling beans are in–I think tonight I’m going to make sausages and grapes over creamed corn with shelling beans.

We stopped at the cooking demonstration, which featured chefs from La Medusa and Eva, including our friend [Dana Bickford](http://phatduck.blogspot.com/), who Iris unfailingly refers to as Chef Dana. We watched some of the prep, then Iris got bored and wanted to wander around and drink cider, most of which ended up on her shirt. On the way out, she wanted to stop and see more cooking. It was good timing, because the La Medusa folks had just sent out a plate of crostini with morels and chanterelles. Iris can go either way on wild mushrooms, but she lunged for and enjoyed a big bite of chanterelle.

On the bus home, I made the mistake of bringing this up.

> **Me:** Those mushrooms were good. Should I make mushrooms like that sometime?

> **Iris:** When you’re a chef?

Two checks

No good story, I know, starts with “I woke up hung over,” but bear with me.

I woke up hung over this morning after a rare night of carousing. It was 8:50am, and there was a chef on the phone. He was returning my call. I wanted him to taste some roast chickens with me for an upcoming column. I managed to mumble my way through this proposal, and he accepted and we made a tentative plan, which I scrawled on a Post-It by the computer.

Shortly thereafter, Laurie said, “Hey, why does this say, ‘Bring chicks in the night?'”

When I was finished laughing, I looked at the note. It said: BRING CHIX IN TUE NIGHT. While I was explaining this to Laurie, a voice came from the couch. I mean, the couch wasn’t talking. It was Iris.

> **Iris:** Dada?

> **Me:** Yes?

> **Iris:** CHICKS IN THE NIGHT!

Perk up

Last night at dinner, a friend asked me what kind of perks I get as a food writer. Well, here’s the story of one.

I’m writing a column for Seattle Magazine called Chef Test. The first one ran this month. Pastry chef [Dana Bickford](http://phatduck.blogspot.com/) and I tasted six brands of chocolate chips, plain and in cookies, and she ranked them from best to worst. The winner was Ghirardelli 60%; the loser was local brand Dilettante semisweet.

Today I got an email from my editor:

> Someone just dropped off an entire box of chocolate chips for you. Let me
know when you would like to come by and pick it up and I’ll put it at the
front desk for you.

There was no further information. Laurie and I discussed this over lunch. Ever cynical, I said maybe the chips were sent by Dilettante and they were poisoned. Laurie said maybe they were sent by Ghirardelli as a thank you gift.

> **Me:** I guess they would be thanking me in the only way their corporate hearts know how. It’s like, if you do a favor for a hooker, you know how you’re going to be thanked.

> **Iris:** How?

> **Laurie:** Um, they’ll catch you a fish? You know, with the hook?

I thought it would not be entirely ethical to accept free chocolate chips, especially if they were from Ghirardelli, since it might appear that I made a deal to engineer a victory for their chips in exchange for, uh, more chips. I asked my editor for clarification. She replied:

> I’m not sure who it was. The gentleman came to the back door and handed them
to an intern.

Obviously, now I had to head downtown. I went to the office, and it turned out to be a *nine-pound box* of Guittard milk chocolate chips (the tasting was of dark chocolate chips). I don’t even like milk chocolate chips. I considered opening the box and leaving it on the curb for homeless people to snack on, but then I realized two things.

1. The chips would melt in the sun.
2. Everyone would know exactly who to blame for the melted chips, because my name was written on the box in block letters.

**UPDATE:** I opened the box. It was from a Guittard sales rep, and it did *not* contain nine pounds of milk chocolate chips. It had a couple of packages of those, plus two packages each of semisweet and “Super Cookie Chips,” as well as a package of single-origin bars. I guess this was a nice way of saying, “Why didn’t you include my chips in your tasting?” The answer is, I didn’t find any at the stores where I was shopping. But thanks, sales guy!

Lobster magnate

Wouldn’t it have been funny to post nothing for four days and then put up a one-liner that read, “THE LOBSTERS, DEAR GOD, SAVE ME FROM THE LOBSTERS”? Possibly with a photo of a lobster photoshopped onto my face.

So here’s how it turned out.

When we got to USP, all of the lobsters in the tank were already sold except for one. I didn’t realize you could put lobsters on hold like new releases at the video store. The late fees must be outrageous. Iris shrank back when the guy took the lobster out of the tank.

I’d already invited my parents over to partake of lobster chowder, but one lobster is not enough to make chowder for four. What to do? While deciding, I boiled up the lobster. This was a snap. The lobster did not, as I’d been warned, try to climb out of the pot. I parboiled it for four minutes, as Jasper instructed, and put it on a plate to cool. Then I slipped off the rubber bands from the claws and gave one to Iris. For the rest of the day she was asking, “Who was wearing that rubber band?” and “Why did the lobster not pinch Dada?”

Along with our hot dogs for lunch, we ate the meat out of the lobster legs. Iris loved this. We pushed the meat out with toothpicks and sucked it out as through a straw.

Here’s how I expected this to go down. I figured Iris would be curious about the lobster but would probably decline to actually eat any. This is how she (and almost everyone else her age, along with plenty of adults) approaches new foods in general, especially meats and vegetables.

This is not how Iris approached the lobster. She would have eaten the whole bowl of diced lobster meat if I’d let her. Lobsters are not high art: nobody has to explain to you how to enjoy them. How to crack them open, sure, although that part wasn’t so hard either.

While Iris was examining the lobster legs for any remaining molecules of meat, Laurie pulled down Home Cooking from the bookshelf and began to read.

> Eating habits change, often for the better, with the acquisition of a child.

I raised a lobster leg in agreement.

> We became a fish-eating family when our daughter began to eat solid food and developed a craving for such expensive things as salmon and sole. It is amazing how much salmon a child three or under can pack away.

So, how to stretch one small lobster to serve five, including a child three or under? I went with two courses of chowder, followed by chocolate cream pie.

I used the lobster carcass to make about a cup and a half of rich lobster stock and made the lobster chowder for a first course. We each got a little bowl. Iris pulled all of the lobster chunks out of hers and ate them first. She paused only to hold up the meat from the small part of the claw and ask, “What is that?” before popping it into her mouth. The lobster chowder with its coral-colored broth was very good, and I would certainly make it again, especially if I can figure out how to invite people over and charge them.

But I liked the second chowder even better. It was Jasper’s Southwestern corn chowder, it was one of the best things I’ve ever made, and I’m going to include the recipe and encourage you to make it as soon as possible.

If you prefer lobster chowder, grab your copy of 50 Chowders and reserve your lobsters now. Or just PayPal me.

**SOUTHWESTERN CORN CHOWDER**
Adapted from _50 Chowders_
Serves about 6 adults

Like all chowders, this is best made at least an hour and up to a couple of days ahead, which makes it exceedingly simple to make for company.

3 ears yellow corn (see note)
4 ounces slab bacon, cut into 1/3-inch dice (see note)
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
1/2 pound yellow onion, cut into half-inch dice
1/2 teaspoon minced fresh thyme
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1/8 teaspoon turmeric
1 pound Yukon Gold potatoes, peeled and cut into half-inch dice
3 cups chicken stock
salt and pepper
1 large poblano chile, roasted, peeled, cored, and diced
2 teaspoons cornstarch, dissolved in a little water
1 cup heavy cream
2 tablespoons minced cilantro
scallions and cilantro for garnish

1. Husk the corn and cut the niblets from the cob. Milk the corn by running the dull edge of a chef’s knife down the cobs and pressing out the juice. Add this to the bowl with the niblets.

2. In a large, heavy saucepan, cook the bacon over medium-low heat until crisp and golden brown. Pour off most of the fat, leaving 1 tablespoon of fat and the bacon in the pan.

3. Add the butter and raise the heat to medium. Add the onion, thyme, cumin, and turmeric, and cook a few minutes, until the onion is translucent but not browned.

4. Add the corn, potatoes, and chicken stock. Turn the heat to high, cover the pot, and boil for ten minutes. Using a wooden spoon, smash a couple of the potato chunks against the side of the pot to release starch and help thicken the broth. Season with salt and pepper.

5. Add the cornstarch slurry and poblano and bring back to a boil. Remove from the heat and stir in the cream and cilantro. If you’re serving the chowder within an hour, cover the pot, let it sit, and reheat over low heat if necessary. Or let the chowder cool to room temperature uncovered, then refrigerate.

6. Serve in big bowls, garnished with cilantro and scallions.

NOTES:

I think I used more corn than the recipe called for. This was not a problem.

I didn’t have time to go downtown for slab bacon, so I rummaged around the fridge and came up with a mix of Nueske’s and unsmoked bacon from Oyama Sausage. This was not a problem either. Oyama has a new web site which is a Flash abomination, but they do have their product list in PDF right here. If you’ve never been to Oyama, you’re probably skeptical that they actually make all of these things. In fact, to use the most inappropriate analogy possible, if you’re a cured meat fan, going to Oyama is like making a pilgrimage to Mecca, only better, because in Mecca you don’t get to actually talk to Mohammed about how he makes his product.

The lobsterman cometh

Tomorrow I’m planning to make lobster chowder.

The stage is definitely set for disaster. I’ve never cooked a lobster before. I’ve never even eaten a whole lobster before. Iris has had many questions. Today she asked:

* Do lobsters have crabby hands?
* Is it okay if the lobster pinches your hand?
* Is it okay if the lobster pinches your finger?
* Does that not hurt?
* Can we have the chowder right now?

She hasn’t, however, asked anything about the fact that the lobsters will be alive when they go into the pot and dead when they come out.

This is dependent on finding lobsters at University Seafood and Poultry tomorrow, but the forecast is good.

I’m not asking for advice. It’ll be much funnier if I go in blind and come out with lobsters hanging from my earlobes.