Black-eyed peas for New Year's Day

My first New Year's Day in New York City, I was panic struck: where was I going to find my annual dose of black-eyed peas? Not having any of the ingredients on hand and with all the stores closed, I was afraid I'd spend 1996 poor and unfortunate. Call me superstitious, but I reckon I need all the help I can get. So after much wandering around the Upper West Side, with only slice joints and the occasional Chinese take-out open for business, a friend suggested we go to Harlem.

But of course! Being new to the city, I hadn't visited Harlem yet because it still had a bad reputation (that would, fortunately, soon be reversed). But if I didn't have my black-eyed peas for wealth and luck, I was certain to be doomed. So we decided to take a chance and go to Sylvia's.

Well, the first two taxis refused to take us there (because Harlem was considered dangerous—sheesh!) but once we finally arrived, all was well: Harlem wasn't scary, Sylvia's was warm and welcoming, and we all had our fill of slow-cooked black-eyed peas dripping with peppers and bacon. And I became a frequent visitor to Harlem's excellent soul food restaurants—everything from church kitchens to the all-you-can-eat buffets with the diners and fine dining establishments thrown in for good measure. But I'm not here to talk about Harlem, I'm here to talk about black-eyed peas.
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Mexican hot chocolate and a molinillo

Editor's note: I've been travelling through Oregon celebrating Christmas with my two favorite Homesick Texans—my dad and my brother—so I haven't had much time to blog. Here is something I wrote that first appeared on The Cook's Kitchen. Yeah, yeah, I know...I'm being lazy! I promise many fresh and exciting posts very, very soon!

Growing up, visits to San Antonio were always a cause for celebration. Sure, the River Walk was lovely and the Alamo was historic, but my favorite part of the trip was breakfast at Mi Tierra. Mi Tierra is one of those legendary Tex-Mex restaurants, up there with Joe T. Garcia and Ninfa's as places Homesick Texans will wax nostalgic. This landmark housed in the old San Antonio market is festive, decked out year-round with Christmas lights, bright paintings and a big heart, not to mention the tasty food. And it's always open, so at whatever hour you need your Tex-Mex fix, it will be waiting for you with open arms. My family used to go for breakfast, and one of its signatures for me was the Mexican hot chocolate. A silky, spicy concoction spiked with cinnamon and vanilla. After you've had it, you'll never go back to Swiss Miss again.
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Let's make tamales: part 2

You have pots of stewed meat simmering on the stove, bowls overflowing with cheese, green chiles and refried beans, a huge lump of masa and a kitchen filled both with savory scents and a group of friends. Now what?

Before you can start making tamales, you need to soak your corn husks for an hour to make them pliable. If you're feeling really creative, you can dye the water, which also comes in handy for identifying what fills each tamale—say a blue wrap for pork and a red wrap for beans. Natural dyes can be made out of herbal tea with rose hips such as Celestial Seasoning's Red Zinger, turmeric or blueberries. When the husks can easily bend without cracking, take them out and pat them with paper towels. They should be damp but not dripping.

There are several ways to roll tamales, but I'm a fan of the tied-end method. It's simple, plus the tamales look like little gifts, perfect for this time of year. To do this, first take some of the damp corn husks and tear them into thin strips. Set the strips aside because that's what you'll use to tie the tamales.

Now haul your wares to a flat work surface and set up your rolling station. The process is simple: take a corn husk and lay it flat. Put in a handful of masa (about 1/2 cup) and spread it around the center of the husk, leaving the circumference (about 1/2 inch) clean. Pour in a heaping tablespoon of filling in the center of the masa. Take the husk and starting at one end lengthwise start rolling. When it's completely rolled up, tie the two ends with the masa strips. Eso es todo! You've made a tamale!
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Homesick Texan Q&A: Joe Armstrong

Meet Joe Armstrong. He’s a New York City publisher whose name has graced the top of mastheads such as Rolling Stone (in it’s '70’s hey day), New York Magazine, New West, Worth and Talk. He was also the founding publisher of Saveur, which under his leadership was the first independent magazine to win Ad Age’s prestigious honor of magazine of the year, not to mention became the must-read for food lovers everywhere.

Quite the character, he was best friends with Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis and has the ability to gather an interesting mix of people such as Bill Clinton, Liz Smith, Billy Crystal, Diane Sawyer, Robin Williams and the dearly missed Ann Richards at one table, as he famously did a few years ago at Michael’s (see above photo—that’s Joe grinning in the middle). Matter of fact, his luncheon catapulted him to the rank of Mayor of Michael’s, no small feat at this de facto cafeteria for powerful media types in New York City. He also consults for ABC and does good work for Paul Newman’s Hole in the Gang Camp for kids with life-threatening illnesses and Habitat for Humanity in the rebuilding of New Orleans.
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Homesick Texan holiday gift guide

Living in New York City, I have friends and family scattered all over the place. Thank goodness for the advent of online shopping, which has made buying gifts for most people (especially those I may not see) a snap. If you have a homesick Texan on your gift list, especially one who might not make it back to Texas for the holidays, here’s a list of online gift ideas that will not only fill their bellies but will also warm their hearts with the taste of home.

Barbecue: If you can’t manage a trip to Lockhart, the good folks of Kreuz Market will ship their amazing beef, sausage, ribs or even a whole turkey anywhere in the U.S. Minimum order is three pounds. Brisket starts at $9.90 a pound. Jalapenos, pickles and onions not included. Kreuzmarket.com

Big Red: We’re talking soda, not gum here. They’ve expanded their distribution in the past few years, but it’s still difficult to find outside of the Southwest. For $23 a case, you can ship the beverage anywhere in the U.S. They don’t take credit cards, however, only checks or money orders. Bigredltd.com
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True grits

I did not grow up in a grit-eating family. I’d beg and beg my mother to make grits, but she’d always say, “We don’t eat grits in this family. Now go eat your porridge.” OK, I lie…I didn’t grow up eating porridge or even curds and whey, another mysterious food found only in nursery rhymes. But back to the grits: I was obsessed. And so when we took a family vacation to New Orleans to see the King Tut exhibit back in the 70s, I was in heaven. Every menu had grits and I finally could eat this forbidden food with the fantastic name. (Just say the word to yourself, “Grits, grits, grits.” You can’t help but fall into a twang.)

And what did I discover in New Orleans? Grits are gooooooood. They’re creamy with just a hint of texture to keep it interesting. And they’re a marvelous vehicle for butter. I was hooked.
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Let's make tamales: part 1

Back in September, the delightful Wednesday Chef cooked a Regina Schrambling recipe for tamales. She was not impressed. No disrespect to Ms. Schrambling, but the recipe was a mess from the get go. It was supposed to make tamale-making simple by substituting grits for masa, but there is no easy way to the culinary bliss that is a tamale.

Ever since I read that post, the blogging side of my brain has been begging to write something on the subject. And now that December is upon us, there’s no better way to present a post (or two or three) on tamales than to wrap it up in holiday garb.

Why do I write about tamales now? Easy answer—tamales are a traditional holiday food in Texas and the Southwest. And while you can buy them just about anywhere in that part of the country, they are traditionally made at home. And one of the best hallmarks of the season is having a tamalada or tamale party.
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Homesick Texan Q&A: Julie Powell

Today’s Homesick Texan Q&A is with Julie Powell. Julie’s year-long, online account of how a disenchanted temp found salvation by working her way through Julia Child’s Mastering the Art of French Cooking, made her one of the first bonafide blog stars. She let it all hang out—chronicling her mistakes, her frustrations, her successes and her joys. And when I found out she was a Texan, I was not a bit surprised as her voice was chockfull of sass and spirit. While she no longer posts to Julie/Julia, it’s still up if you want to read it. Or you can check out her book based on the blog, Julie and Julia: 365 Days, 524 Recipes, 1 Tiny Apartment Kitchen, which has just come out in paperback. She’s a busy woman—you can also see her byline in places such as The New York Times, Salon.com and Bon Appetit, and I hear she’s training to be a butcher (for a future book) with the evidence of her education on full display on YouTube. Here’s what Julie misses:

Where are you from? Do you still have family there? My husband and I are both from Austin, and both of our families are still there.
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Seasoned oyster crackers

Well, I’ve been to Texas. And while I thought most of my homesickness was rooted in missing Tex-Mex and barbecue, after spending two days at my grandparents’ farm, I realized what I truly pine for is the closeness of family. Save for one excursion into town to eat at San Miguel’s, a wonderful Tex-Mex restaurant where we all had our fill of enchiladas, tacos, burritos, chile rellenos, refried beans, rice, chips, salsa, guacamole, sopapillas and pralines, I spent my trip in the country, enjoying the company of my fun, intelligent, loving family while we shared meals based on the fruit of the land.

My grandparents are getting older, and to save time for the big meal they ordered a smoked turkey from Greenberg’s of Tyler, Texas—hailed by many the aristocrat of turkeys. This is a tender, smoky and succulent bird, so exquisite and renowned that even Oprah lists it as one of her favorite things. I highly recommend it and I could gnaw on the chewy, smoky skin for days. But even though we ordered out for the bird, everything else was homemade—with many of the ingredients sourced from my grandparents’ and other family members’ gardens: the jalapeno corn bread stuffing, the green beans with bacon and almonds, the cranberry sauces, the creamy rice casserole, several salads made with greens and fruit, sweet potatoes, chips and salsa, pecan pie, apple pie and sweet potato pie, and, well, the list goes on and on.
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G.T.T.!

I've gone to Texas! I'll only be there for 48 hours but that should be enough time to visit with most of my family and fill my belly with some good grub.

May you and your family have a very happy Thanksgiving.

Kick the can: making fresh cranberry sauce

Cranberry sauce for many means this: a tubular, red, gelatinous substance that slithers out of a can, shiny ridges included free of charge. You’d think with so many people interested in fresh, local foods that it would be a relic from the past, a candidate for the museum of regrettable edibles. But I know it’s still a popular holiday item because this time of year you see stacks of this canned product on prominent display at grocery stores, Whole Foods included. Why? Why? Why?

I grew up thinking this was the only way to prepare cranberries and it scared me (much like marshmallows on sweet potatoes). I always said, “No thanks,” and loaded up on more stuffing instead. Which is a shame, because nothing complements turkey and cornbread stuffing better than the tang of cranberries—it’s the trinity of Thanksgiving flavor.
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Food for thought: "Our Daily Bread"

If you aren’t subscribing to Very Short List, you should. It’s a pithy, smart and cutting-edge daily dose of culture brought to you by Simon Dumenco and Kurt Andersen. Usually they introduce me to something new—be it a book, DVD, movie or whatever other media tidbit their touting. But even if I am already familiar with what they list, it’s an insightful blast to read their take on it. Plus, if you don’t have time to read, they provide you with handy Venn diagrams showing just where their pick falls in the cultural scheme of things.

Today VSL short lists the new film, “Our Daily Bread,” hot on the heels of Richard Linklater’s (by way of Eric Schlosser)"Fast Food Nation," Michael Pollan’s The Omnivore’s Dilemma, Slow Food’s Terra Madre conference and outbreaks of E. coli in spinach. This film, which comes out in NY and Chicago November 24, continues the ongoing discussion of where food comes from, a constant and colossal topic of late. From what I can gather about “Our Daily Bread,” it appears apolitical, letting you make up your own mind on the subject. There’s no narration and the soundtrack is comprised only of the whirs, buzzes and cha-chings of the machines behind industrial food. That said, after witnessing images such as these I challenge anyone to not give serious thought to the origins of what you put in your mouth.

Check out the trailers—there’s even a crop dusting one that (almost) tops Hitchcock. And sign up for Very Short List. You won’t be disappointed. Even if you don’t sample all the media items they list, at least you’ll appear au courant to your friends and family.

Bobby Flay's Texas Red throwdown

Did anybody see Bobby Flay’s Throwdown last night with two-time chili cook-off world champion Cindy Reed Wilkins? Wow!

Her story is actually pretty inspirational—she's the Lance Armstrong of the chili cook-off world. Back in 1992 she won her first Terlingua International Chili Championship Cook-off. Then two months after her win she had a stroke. But after rehabilitation she returned the next year to Terlingua and won again—a miliestone on a couple of fronts as she was not only the first person to win it twice but she was the first to win it back to back. Over her 20-year career she’s won over 300 cook-offs in all, pretty impressive. So who does New Yorker Bobby Flay think he is challenging this woman to a cook-off?
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Frozen but not chosen

I’m a busy person. And while I’d like to cook everyday, it’s just not possible. Now I make a mean batch of cheese enchiladas and soon I’ll share my recipe. But as I don’t always have the time to make these when I have a craving, and since there’s no local Tex-Mex joint in my neighborhood that serves decent enchiladas, I decided I’d check out what my options were in the frozen-food section. I figured Whole Foods’ frozen cheese enchiladas were worth a try, it being a Texas company and all. I also grabbed Trader Jose’s cheese enchiladas and Amy’s Enchilada Cheese (her ridiculous name, not mine).

Out of the box, there were some noticeable differences. TJ’s ($4.29) is huge, comes in a family-sized pan and is dotted with tons of cheese and green things. It’s made to serve 4, but there’s only six enchiladas (220 calories each). I guess each person will get one and a half. Amy’s ($3.49) looks Spartan, two enchiladas covered in red sauce with just a slight dusting of cheese. She says her box will serve two. Eh? One enchilada per person? Who’s the under-eater writing Amy’s box copy? Or is it one of those nutrition-label tricks were you see the calories (240) and think it’s for both enchiladas when it’s really just for one—I hate it when labels pull that scam. Whole Foods’ ($2.39) entry looks pretty good. You can see two nicely griddled corn tortillas covered in sauce, cheese and what I thought were jalapeno peppers. But, on the ingredients list, there are no peppers listed. Odd. What is that green stuff? Oh, I see, it’s chives. Pretty sneaky—I think they want you to believe they’re jalapenos. Who the heck sprinkles chives on their cheese enchiladas? Maybe in Boise, Idaho where they have buckets of chopped chives left over from their endless diet of baked potatoes, but not in Texas and never in my kitchen. Sigh. Whole Foods has broken my heart. At least they don’t try to trick you with their nutrition facts: serving per package is one, and the number of calories is 330.
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You bet your boots

I've written before of my love of cowboy boots. And while this article in today's Times by Alex Kuczynski has little to nothing to with food (though margaritas are mentioned) it's a fun look at what happens when a New Yorker goes to Austin and decides to buy cowboy boots. In the words of the writer, cowboy boots are "as comfortable as sneakers but as glamorous as stilettos." Heck, yeah, sister--that's why I've been wearing them for years. She also mentiones there is a dispute between Kansas and Texas over who invented the cowboy boot. Who knew? But since we all know where you can find the better bbq, if they want to lay claim to inventing cowboy boots I think we can give them that small crumb. That said, I've never heard anyone wax poetic about making a pilgrimage to Kansas to buy boots. I'm just saying....

Homesick Texan Q&A: Matt Armendariz

Most readers of this blog are probably already familiar with today’s Homesick Texan, Matt Armendariz. But if you have never visited his gorgeous, entertaining and informative blog Matt Bites, stop reading this and go there now! From his amazing photography to his great sense of graphic design, his blog looks delicious. But beyond just being a pretty face, Matt’s writing is also brilliant—be it side-splitting humorous or head-nodding insightful, he always has a point of view. As for his photography, where to begin? He’s a master of composition and light, but beyond that he always creates a sense of place; his photos reveal a world I’m always thrilled to visit. And yes, I’d still be a fan if he wasn’t a Texan but since he is, here’s what Matt misses.

Where are you from? Do you still have family there? I was born in Galveston, Texas and raised in Austin. My grandparents are from Chihuahua, Mexico. With the exception of a sister in Ipswich, Masschusetts, all of my family is still in Austin.

When and why did you leave Texas? I left Texas in 1992 and moved to Chicago. I was working for Whole Foods Market and was part of the team that opened the midwest region. It was only supposed to be temporary–I've been gone ever since.
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Sweet potatoes, hold the marshmallows

Growing up, not a holiday dinner or church potluck supper was complete without a casserole dish filled with baked sweet potatoes topped with marshmallows. If you’ve never seen this dish, let me tell you—it looks disgusting. Perhaps it’s because I don’t like marshmallows (I don’t have much of a sweet tooth. To wit: when we’d go to Luby’s, while my family dug into slices of chess pie for dessert, I’d be eating jalapeno cornbread) and seeing this large baking dish filled with a brown and orange oozing substance covered with white dots just never seemed appealing. It looked like really bad 1970’s interior design. It wasn’t dessert, either--it was considered a savory side. So I grew up thinking that sweet potatoes had to be served with marshmallows, and I never tried them.
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A big idea in a tiny package

Not everything in Texas is big. The burger above? Your typical fast-food burger, probably measures about 5 inches across. But check this out. Texan photographer Nadia Caffesse created the world’s smallest burger (it measures one inch across) complete with an extra-small side order of fries and Coke. She even made a tray and paper liner to complete the fast-food experience. Check out her photos of the project, it’s very cool.

She mentions on her site that she did this for a Craftster project, but I asked her if there were any other considerations, say a statement on fast food or the American diet. This is what she replied: "I think the implications of the project as far as super-sizing versus mini-sizing are pretty interesting. Why did we choose fast food? Probably because it is the most easly recogizable and self-contained meal to miniaturize. Everything comes with its own specific packaging on a brand-specific place setting. All of it designed to be attractive and to give you a feeling of familiarity.
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My cheating heart

I never thought I’d fall so hard for another cuisine. I’ve eaten in a lot of places that offered untold surprises such as fresh tuna sliced for me by a fish monger at the Tsujiki Market, or a big steaming pot of homemade feijoada with farofa sprinkled on top in Sao Paolo. But they were just delicious memories—nothing that made me crazy.

Enter the Piedmonte. I’ve been back in the United States for less than a day and I can’t stop thinking about all the foods I ate last week in Turin and at the Salone Del Gusto. Now granted, I’m still a bit jet lagged so I may be addled in my thought processes. But if I concentrate, I can still smell an earthy whiff of fresh white truffles, feel the delicate texture of homemade agnolotti or taste the raw juicyness of vitello tonatto. I won’t be eating any of these things in NY any time soon—they’re sensory memories forever locked in a certain place (which means I’ll have to return!)

I also discovered an amazing thing at the chocolate shop, a treat I did not know existed in Italian cuisine: chocolate with red chiles. And unlike a truffle, this is something I could bring home with me without dealing with nosy customs inspectors. So I now have in my possession pounds of Turin chocolate all playing variations on this theme: dark bites of chocolate flecked with white truffles and piquant chiles, big bars of chocolate spiced with red chiles and jars of crema cacao al peperoncino (think Nutella—which hails from the Piedmonte region—with spicy chiles).

The women at the shop didn’t speak English and I don’t speak Italian, but the picture they showed me makes me think the chiles used are cayenne, but I’ll have to research this. But now that I think about it, I reckon my heart hasn’t strayed too far if I fell in love with chocolate and chiles, a very common combination found in Mexico and the Southwest. So perhaps I’m smitten because the taste is so familiar. No matter, the chocolate makes me swoon and I’ll have a hard time being generous with these sweet and piquant bites, even though they were purchased with the gift-giving season in mind. Perhaps my friends and family will settle for anchovy paste instead. (Hey, don’t give me that look…don’t knock anchovy paste until you try it!) But yes, while I want to be selfish, these chocolates are just too wonderful to hoard. And since there’s now a security inspector in Brussels enjoying my bottles of Barolo (sorry, Dad—I was misinformed about carry-on liquids) with his pot of mussles, these chocolates can be my way of acting as culinary ambassador to an outstanding food region—the Piedmonte.

Tastes that are as big as Texas

After eating myself silly for the past few days, I’ve decided to take a break and just sit still in front of the computer for a while, until it’s time for dinner. Yes, I’m in Italy, and dinner is served quite late here—an 8 o’clock reservation is the equivalent of the old-timer’s early bird special. There’s still a lot for me to process, but I will just say this: if you’re the kind of person who gets excited when they have free samples at the grocery store, I highly recommend you make the trip to Slow Food’s Salone del Gusto, a biannual fair held in Turin that showcases artisanal food from around the world. I couldn’t tell you how many booths there were (I’m a bad attendee as I haven’t fully read all my pamphlets), but let’s just say after five hours of wandering the halls of the Lingotto, I felt like I still hadn’t tasted everything. And yes I had a full belly, a light head and a pocket stuffed with toothpicks. Some of the foods I sampled: algas marinas from Chile; kanihua, a grain flour from Peru; chaam chicken, an endangered species from the Netherlands; asiago with honey; more stinky cheeses than I can count; uncooked and uncured sausage from Bra; smoky mezcal from Mexico (hence the light head); enough varieties of olive oil to fill a library; bitter chocolate, milk chocolate and hazelnut chocolate; purple grapes as big as plums; fois gras and various other pates; some strange hard ball of cheese with a tangy oozing center; my first whiff of a fresh, white truffle as big as a baseball—and that’s just the beginning.
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Homesick Texan Q&A: Vickie Brown

Vickie Brown who writes the delightful and informative blog The Moveable Feast is a personal chef in Southern Virginia. Or as she puts it, she's a chef by trade and a country girl by heart. Her blog is filled with wonderfully delicious recipes spiced with Texan wit and she is also prone to sharing her passion for animals, namely dachshunds. She also has a really cool knitting blog called The Virginia Purl. A country girl indeed! Here's what Vickie, a Temple, Texas native, misses:

Where do you come from? Do you still have family there? I was born in Ft. Worth but have no family who lives there. My father's family is scattered around the Lubbock area and my mother's family is in and around the Temple area. I claim Temple as home because my grandmother lived there my whole life until she passed away a few years ago. It's always been our family "base camp" because my father was in the military and we moved around a lot.

Where and when did you live in Texas? I really wish I had a chance to live there a long time, but when my father was stationed in Texas I was in elementary school and we lived there for three years. After he retired we moved back to the Lubbock area so he could finish his degree and lived there about 18 months. I lived there again later my senior year in high school and then again when I was first newly married. We are hoping to retire in Texas someday and that will be it for me ever leaving the state again!
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Texas Red FAQ

I’ve received lots of queries about my chili, so I thought I’d answer some of the more frequently asked questions:

Where do you buy dried anchos? You can get them at any Mexican grocer or some regular grocery stores. In NY, I buy them either at Kitchen Market or Whole Foods.

How will the dried anchos bubble without using any oil? Have you ever cooked a flour tortilla in an un-oiled skillet? You know how when it’s cooked it bubbles? Well, it’s the same with the split-open, leathery dried anchos; when they’re hot, they bubble.

What starches can you serve with this chili as it’s not soupy like other chilis? First, let me say if a chili is soupy, then it’s not chili at least according to Homesick Texan’s standards of chili—it’s spicy beef soup. As for starches, you can serve tortillas, either corn or flour, tortilla chips, saltines like they do in some old-school Tex-Mex places, cornbread, or even fresh bread if you like. Also, it’s good with rice.

Why isn’t this chili soupy? See above. But primarily because it’s just meat, chiles and a bit of liquid. And it simmers so long, most of the liquid cooks away.
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How to make a pot of Texas red: Part two

"The aroma of good chili should generate rapture akin to a lover's kiss." - Motto of the Chili Appreciation Society International

The Texas Red overture has finished, so now it’s time to get on with the main event: cooking your pot of chili. Are you ready? Let's go!

Before you begin cooking, you need to chop. I start with the veggies. I dice my onion, mince my garlic, slice my peppers and then chop the meat into bite-sized squares. Hopefully, you’re playing some good rhythmic music so you can shake your hips and tap your feet as you dance your knife along the cutting board.

After chopping, take your dried anchos, slice them open and remove the seeds and stems. Lay them flat on a hot, ungreased iron skillet and cook them for a few minutes until they start to bubble. (Warning: make sure you have an open window because there will be smoke and it can burn your eyes!) Throw the cooked anchos into a blender and just add enough water to cover them. Let it rest for a few minutes and then pulse until you have an ancho-chile slurry.
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Every dog has its day

I was perusing Off the Broiler yesterday and I discovered this: a Paterson, NJ delicacy called the Hot Texas Weiner. Now Texas isn’t really known for its hot dogs. Corny dogs, sure, but when I was growing up, the biggest hot dog chain in Houston was called Coney Island and that says a lot. No, when I think of great hot dogs, I think of boiled Chicago dogs with their poppy-seed buns, their pickles, their tomatoes, their peppers and their dash of celery salt, or I think of New York’s all-beef dogs grilled and served with steamed onion sauce, sauerkraut and mustard.
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How to make a pot of Texas red: Part one

"Chili is not so much food as a state of mind. Addictions to it are formed early in life and the victims never recover. On blue days in October, I get this passionate yearning for a bowl of chili, and I nearly lose my mind." - Margaret Cousins, novelist

When I woke up this morning, my apartment was as cold as a frosted frog. My super hasn’t turned on the heat yet, and as all but two of my walls are exterior (which is lovely in terms of light but awful in terms of climate due to shoddy insulation), my hands and feet had turned to marble. And since there's no better way to chase away a case of the chills than hovering over a pot of chili simmering on the stove, I put on my boots and started my preparations.

To make true Texas chili—a pot of Texas red—you first need to set the scene. I reckon if you’re down in, say, Terlingua, all of these things come natural—it’s just part of life. But when you’re holed up in a tiny Manhattan kitchen, before you start boiling your beef you need to create some ambiance, some flavor, some feeling that you’re not where you are so you can pretend that this pot of red was made for real, in Texas.
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Freddie Fender: 1937-2006

I'm cooking some Tex-Mex, listening to the "Lone Star" soundtrack when I hear the news: Freddie Fender is gone.

I'm two for two now with Texas musical legends dying while I'm listening. Back in college, a group of us decided to listen to nothing but Stevie Ray Vaughn one evening. It was an odd choice for us, as we were more inclined to listen to The Pixies or Depeche Mode. But I'm glad we made it as we learned the next morning that Stevie Ray had died in a helicopter crash the night before. We were shocked and very sad to hear the news, but at the same time we felt like we'd somehow honored Stevie Ray by listening to him instead of one of our usual musical selections.
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No cupcake left behind

Did you know that in Texas they have something called the “Safe Cupcake Amendment?” That’s right, under the Texas State Law cupcakes are a protected species. Now I love cupcakes as much as anyone else, but I feel this might be taking cupcake-o-philia a bit too far.
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Homesick Texan Q&A: Stephen Tobolowsky

You may not know Stephen Tobolowsky by name, but you certainly know his work. He's an actor who has appeared in a host of movies and TV shows including: "Memento," "The Grifters," "Groundhog Day," "The Insider," "Single White Female," "Thelma and Louise," "The Closer", "Deadwood", and "Desperate Housewives." He's so ubiquitous, in fact, he even made an appearance in the home movie of my mom's 13th birthday party. And while he's usually a supporting actor he does take a star turn in a new film called "Stephen Tobolowsky's Birthday Party," a sort of meta documentary where Steve tells true stories of his life to a crowd of birthday-party guests. But his talent is not just limited to acting--he also co-wrote one of the best Texan movies ever, "True Stories." And because he's such a cool guy, not to mention a Texan, I thought he'd be a perfect candidate for my series of Homesick Texan Q&As. Here's what he misses:

Where are you from? Do you still have family there? I’m from Dallas. I still can visit my father, mother and my brother's family.
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Don't mess with Texas

Yee haw, we won! Clearly more a mantra than a slogan, "Don't Mess With Texas," grabbed top honors last week in the third annual Advertising Week's Most Popular Advertising Slogan competition, beating Nike's "Just Do It," Burger King's "Have it Your Way" and "Got Milk?" among others.

The campaign, created by Austin-based advertising agency GSD&M 20 years ago, has featured a host of popular Texans in its spots: Lyle Lovett, LeAnn Rimes, Stevie Ray Vaughn, Lance Armstrong, Owen Wilson and even Shamu have urged people to keep Texas clean.
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A bit of Texas in Orlando

I'm staying at the Ritz-Carlton in Orlando right now for work, and I saw on the room service menu a dish called the Texas Breakfast. This is what you get: one fried egg on white bread, tater-tots and a piece of bacon. OK....that doesn't sound terribly Texan to me. And even though I'm on an expense account, before I spend $25 for this early morning treat, I decided to talk to the kitchen about what makes it Texan. The manager said, "Well, it's big." But it's only one egg, a bit of bacon and tater-tots." He replied, "There's also bread." Is it toasted? "No, but we can toast it if you like." Back to the size issue: He said, "It's big for kids. It is, afterall, on the kid's menu." Ah, I see.
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Add a can, lose the bland

Ten years ago, another Texan friend who had also recently moved to New York City gave me a call. “You’ll never believe what I found in Brooklyn!” she said. I could hear the excitement in her voice. “What? What? Tell me!” I said. She wouldn’t divulge her find, she just insisted I come over to her apartment immediately to see for myself—I would not be disappointed. Curious, I hopped in a cab and sped across Central Park to the Upper East Side. When I arrived, she and her husband had big silly grins on their faces and they led me to the kitchen. Sitting alone on the counter, bathed in fluorescent light was a long-lost friend—a can of Rotel Tomatoes.

If you’re not familiar with Rotel Tomatoes, here’s a bit of history. Back in the 1940’s, a vegetable packer from Elsa, Texas named Carl Roettele started canning his mix of Valley-grown diced tomatoes, green chilies and spices. He called his product Rotel (because he didn’t think anyone would be able to pronounce the brand if he used his real name.) His tomatoes were an instant hit, and soon became a staple in every Texan’s pantry. Slowly, Rotel branched to the neighboring states, and Con Agra eventually bought out the Roettele family’s business, but it’s still a regional thing, far off the culinary map for many Americans. And that's a shame.
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Here's the beef

Ah, summer love--so intense, so exciting, and yet, so fleeting. Perhaps that’s part of the thrill. But now that it’s autumn, I have to say good-bye to my summertime fling, the Shake Shack Double Shack Burger. I enjoyed those late-night rendezvous when it was just the Double Shack and me, no huge crowds of people also vying for its deliciousness. Yes, the long lines for Shake Shack are legion, but its popularity is well deserved: how can you not love thick and juicy well-seasoned meat, fresh green lettuce, bright flavorful tomatoes, oozing American cheese, all sandwiched between a perfectly proportioned potato bun. Shake Shack had me at first bite.

But as good as the Double Shack may be, I think the real reason I fell so hard was because it reminded me of a taste of home. There was something in the peppery meat and perfect balance that made me swoon. And even though the two are completely different feasts, something about the Double Shack reminded me of my first burger love—Whatburger.
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Homesick Texan Q&A: Liz Smith

I had an idea that it would be fun to do a series of quick Q&A’s with fellow Homesick Texans on their favorite Texan foods. My goal? To learn what others miss the most, and how we satisfy our needs outside the state. Today begins the first in what I hope will be a long and enjoyable series. But first, a bit of background.

In my job, not only is it important to read The Wall Street Journal and The New York Times, but it’s key that we keep abreast of all the gossip columnists as well. I have been reading fellow ex-pat Texan Liz Smith in The New York Post for longer than I can remember. And, yes, she dishes as good as the rest. But the one thing about her column that always struck me was the inclusion of Texas—if there’s something to say about The Lone Star State, without fail, it’ll be said. And it always makes me long for home.
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What does soap taste like?

I love cilantro. I love it so much I put it in just about everything I can, within reason, of course. It’s the definitive flavor in so many Tex-Mex dishes, that its absence is sorely felt if omitted by one who doesn’t quite feel the same as I. Yes, that’s correct: not everyone loves cilantro. Matter of fact, almost 40% of the population believes cilantro tastes like soap. It’s true; I’ve seen some hard data on this phenomenon, and while I can’t understand it, I just have to accept it.

I grew up with cilantro—it was probably one of the first leafy, green things I’d eat without any argument. Everyone in my family grows it, and my uncle in Austin has taken to spreading the seeds all over the city in hopes they will take root and cilantro plants will flourish all over--like bluebonnets or Indian paintbrush. We call him Johnny Cilantroseed. So when you have a naive worldview like myself, if I like something, then everyone else must like it, right? Wrong.
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Salt bagels and jalapeno cream cheese

Growing up in the Bible Belt, Judaism was under my radar, I'm ashamed to say. Yom Kippur wasn’t a school holiday, and hamentashen was just a buttery fruit-filled cookie. But even though I didn’t have a name for it, I was fascinated with Jewish culture as a kid. When my father’s friend's daughter had her bat mitzvah, I was eager to attend as Devo had played at Muffy Tepperman’s bat mitzvah on the TV show Square Pegs, therefore making the religious ceremony very cool. And in Woody Allen movies, I kept hearing about this mysterious sounding food combination called bagels and lox, so the first time I saw it on a menu in a Houston restaurant, I ordered it and fell in love.
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The Hill Country Diet

Don’t read this web site, it’s bad for your health. That’s right, I’m a Homesick Texan who waxes nostalgic for Texan foods. And yet, it turns out that those foods are nonnutritious. I can’t believe that a huge slab of chicken fried steak drowning in gravy or a No. 3 Tex-Mex dinner oozing cheese juice and bacon grease isn’t part of a heart-healthy diet. I could have sworn I heard that Dr. Andrew Weil was going to narrate a Hill Country Diet documentary for PBS. I guess I confused Texas with Okinawa.

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When Love comes to town

A block away from my apartment, Texan chef Tim Love is opening an outpost of his Fort Worth restaurant Lonsemone Dove Western Bistro. He's the kind of guy who prefers a cowboy hat to a toque and has done trail rides from Fort Worth to both coasts, cooking with ingredients from local markets along the way. Colorful guy. And by looking at the menu, it appears to be one of those high-concept cowboy places, the type where they combine fois gras with chiles and serve a kangaroo carpaccio. I'm curious. And this week, New York Magazine has provided a guide to his menu, asking Tim to define some of his more exotic culinary terms, such as "prairie butter," "fois gras shooter" and the ever-perplexing, "state fair sauce." Who knew...state fair sauce is exotic! He's also featured in Food & Wine this month if you want to check out some of his recipes. (He clearly has a well-oiled PR machine).
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Lunch ladies and fried okra

School lunches are a hot topic du jour as the school year has recently begun. Everyone from The New York Times to the New Yorker seems to be weighing in. Most of these articles focus on changing the traditional school lunch from its government sanctioned mediocrity into something that has nutritional value. But of course, lots of kids have a well-formed junk-food palate, and are averse to foods that aren’t deep fried or loaded with sugar. One student in Burkhard Bilger’s New Yorker profile of crusading Berkeley, CA school chef Ann Cooper, laments Cooper’s new vegetable-heavy menus: “…She missed all the meat from last year. She picked at her pink coleslaw. ‘I’m moving to Texas,’ she said.” While it is not explained if she’s really moving to Texas or just wants to move to Texas because she believes there will be more meat served with her school lunch, the comment made me laugh. I don’t remember Texan lunch ladies serving up huge portions of meat, but there sure was a lot of fried okra.

In hindsight, I reckon I was fortunate because my mother made my lunch for me everyday and I rarely ate the stuff served by the cafeteria ladies. But as a kid, when everyone around you has a tray and you’re schlepping a Pigs in Space lunch kit filled with a peanut-butter and banana sandwich on homemade, whole-wheat bread; a piece of fruit; a bag of what she called “miscellaneous” but what I’d now call trail mix—raisins, nuts, and dried coconut; and a thermos filled with milk—well, you’re just not cool. Even the other kids who did bring their lunches got to eat processed meat with American cheese on Mrs. Baird’s white bread, a bag of Fritos, and Zingers. I hated having health-food nuts for parents, it just made me appear weird to me fellow young Texans.
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A balance of powder

Homemade chile powder, so rich, red and flavorful, is an ingredient I cannot live without. I use it with so many things, including my salsa, my eggs, my beans, my steaks, my tacos, my enchilada sauce and, of course, my chili. I've said this before, homemade chile powder is far superior to any store-bought brand, and it's not that difficult to make. I reckon the biggest challenge to making homemade chile powder is finding the right kind of chiles. But even if your usual market doesn't have these, I bet there is a Latino population somewhere in your area where you can find a Mexican grocer. Or you could order online from places such as MexGrocer, Penzeys or Kitchen Market.
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Ann Richards: 1933-2006

Good night, Governor. Thanks for all your wit, wisdom, courage and leadership. You were a true Texas treasure. You will be missed.

Grandmotherhood and pecan pie

My grandmother makes the best pies. Of course, everyone’s grandmother makes the best pies, but I’m not kidding when I say my grandmother’s pies are divine. Everyone in my family has their favorite: some like the peach, some like the sweet potato, some like the chocolate. But from my grandmother’s pie-making repertoire, there is one pie that we all agree is top notch: her pecan pie.

One of the distinguishing characteristics of her pies is how fresh they are. She and my grandpa live on a farm, where small groves of pecan and peach trees grow and where there is always an ample crop of sweet potatoes. So her pies are made with the fruit of the land, making them very, very tasty. My grandparents are pragmatic people, and as they're getting older, they always ask what we want willed to us. In yet another testament to her pies, the one thing we all fight over is my grandmother's rolling pin that she was given in the 1940s and has used ever since. Forget the land, the houses or the antiques--we all want that magical tool that has rolled out so many delicious crusts.
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What the butcher knows

This week, New York Magazine has a wonderful feature on butchers and their thoughts on preparing meat--which you can find in both the print and online editions. Molly Friedman and Helen Yun talked to eight NYC butchers (and one chef), about cuts, quality and cooking tips, with some personal histories sprinkled around for color and flavor. Accompanying the quotes are the fantasticly rich and real photographs by Hans Ginssinger who is probably my favorite raw-meat photographer. No one else can make bones and raw flesh look so beautiful.
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9.11.01: Finding hope at the greenmarket

Today marks the five-year anniversary of 9-11. I have no story of valor, courage or heroics, nor do I have a story of loss. Save for my friends who decided to leave New York City after the disaster, I didn’t lose anyone. My story is only one of witness—I was here that day and observed unimaginable events. I did not see the towers on fire except on TV screens, which I’m thankful for considering how shook up I was by just the aftermath alone. But I did see other things: I saw the huge black cloud filled with debris hover over downtown for several days, its presence filling the skyline where the towers once dominated; I saw the missing posters multiply by the thousands until almost every outdoor surface was shrouded with people’s desperate pleas; I saw while walking home from work that day, crowds of people somberly shuffling uptown, covered in dust, their faces shadowed in dazed disbelief at what they had escaped; I saw hundreds of gurneys and medics waiting outside of St. Vincent’s Hospital for the victims who never arrived; I saw strangers huddling in silent groups, trying to make sense of what was happening; I saw an armed-service population immediately sprout all over the city, waiting with huge guns for the next big disaster; and I saw a city forever changed, no longer living in naive bliss.
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NYC Potluck

Danielle over at Habeas Brulee is organzing a NYC food bloggers potluck for
Saturday, September 30, whenever the majority can attend. If you're interested in eating some good food and meeting the faces behind the blogs, check out the details here.

A bit of soul on the Upper West Side

A couple of years ago, I was on real soul-food kick, and would spend the weekends eating at every place I could find in Harlem: diners, hole-in-the-walls, high-end establishments and even church dinners. Most of the food was passable, but one place was truly worth the return trip: Charles’ Southern Style Kitchen. It’s a small place with an all-you-can-eat buffet, and boy is it good. He’s got oxtails, deviled eggs, potato salad, collard greens, mac and cheese, cole slaw and some of the best fried chicken I’ve ever eaten. And he fries it up the right way: in an iron skillet with lard. You can taste how finely it’s been prepared—the crust is crispy and flaky with just the right amount of spice and the chicken is juicy and tender—even the white meat, which is no mean feat. A couple of months ago, Charles opened a place further downtown on Broadway and 109th Street, Rack & Soul, which he collaborated on with pitmaster John Wheeler. I was curious to see how his fried chicken would transfer 40 blocks down, and I was also eager to try this new bbq chef’s smoked meat. The place did not disappoint.
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When life gives you tomatoes...

A few years ago, salsa became the number-one selling condiment in the U.S., knocking out ketchup. And for good reason: salsa is spicy, light and fun whereas ketchup is plodding and heavy. Growing up, I could never understand people who doused ketchup over everything. But, to be fair, they probably thought it was weird that I dumped hot sauce over everything. I've mentioned before that while I love Tex-Mex, I'm all Tex with (alas) no Mex. But in Texas, it doesn't matter what your roots are, every family has at least one homemade salsa recipe and here's my family's. It’s fresh, fast and easy, and if you like the flavors of lime, tomato and cilantro, you might like it, too. You can use either canned or fresh tomatoes, depending on the season, but make sure everything else is fresh—especially the garlic, peppers, lime juice and cilantro--or it won’t taste bright and lively. And the recipe also calls for chile powder. If you don’t make your own chile powder (recommended, but not necessary) be sure and choose the darkest chile powder you can find. Whole Foods’ Valle Del Sol chile powder has a pretty complex flavor and it has no funky fillers. Now for a full disclosure: I don’t use measurements. Only when I bake do I follow a recipe exactly (because baking is chemistry and you just can’t mess with that). But when doing savory stuff I usually make it up as I go along and this recipe is no different; I watched my uncle make it one day and that’s how I learned. But, I just made a batch and wrote down what I did, so this is what follows. Also, feel free to adjust the peppers and garlic to your spice preference—-I like things hot and garlicy, but not everyone is inclined that way.
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Brisket and a book

Want to read some amazing writing--writing so good it convinced the chairman of Reader's Digest to break bread with its creator? Here's your chance.But first, a bit of history.When I walked into the office this morning, Ken Wheaton handed me a takeout container filled with bbq brisket, ribs and pork from The Cookhouse, where Ken and his girlfriend were dinner guests of Cookhouse owner (and Reader's Digest Chairman Tom Ryder). How did Ken manage to score such a cool invitation? By his very fine writing, of course. As I've mentioned before, Ryder went on a bbq tour of the Hill Country, and posted an in-depth interactive travelogue on the Reader's Digest site. Ken writes a magazine column, and being no bbq slouch himself he decided to comment on it. And Ryder loved Ken's words so much, he invited him to Connecticut.
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