Spatulas

My old rubber spatulas have failed me. I didn’t see it coming, but, one by one, they quit their stirring and scraping duties. Their blades broke into pieces, the last one crumbling against a rather thick chocolate cake batter. But I won’t miss them one bit because now I get to upgrade!

So what kind of rubber spatula is worthy of bringing into my kitchen? Only the commercial heat-proof kind, the kind that you get in a restaurant supply store.


They may not have a fancy brand name, and they don’t come in a rainbow of fun colors, but they also don’t have wooden handles to split and warp in the dishwasher. My favorite spats (that’s my pet name for them) are absolutely one of the most practical utensils you can have in your kitchen. The heat-resistant rubber these are made of will last a lifetime, and they’re perfect for all cooking tasks hot or cold, sweet or savory. They’re ideal for mixing thick batters and folding the most delicate egg white foams and perfect for scraping, especially for scraping up the brown bits from the bottom of the pan when deglazing a sauce, soup, or stew. They’re such expert scrapers that, like a squeegee, they will scrape a bowl or pan so clean you hardly have to wash it. (In fact, they inspired the tale of the million dollar spatula, often told in restaurant kitchens: scraping the bowl clean using a rubber spatula will result in an extra serving of food each time, saving the restaurant countless dollars over the years.) These spats, unlike lesser models, even feature a smart little notch for catching dribbles off rims and a kickstand to keep your counters clean. And a hook at the end of the handle ensures they don’t slip down into the pot or bowl, never to be seen again.


My very favorite one is the spoonula, all this, plus it doubles as a spoon.


Very handy for transferring food from pan to plate or filling a pastry bag. The commercial heat-proof spatula, marvel of cooking utensil design, is the only one for me.

The Homies

Thank you, thank you. It really is an honor just to be nominated…


I’m pleased to announce that Hungry Cravings has been selected by The Kitchn as a finalist for The Homies: Best Home Cooking Blog of 2008! Please vote for Hungry Cravings here, and thanks for your support!

Shallot, Minced

A colleague of mine once declared, “If I could, I would marry a shallot.” While I’m already spoken for, I, too, have a deep love of shallots. These alluring alliums are sweeter and less pungent than their larger onion cousins, and their gentle oniony flavor can enhance a variety of dishes. Raw minced shallots enliven vinaigrettes. Minced shallots sautéed in butter add depth of flavor to sauces, make a marvelous steak topping, and pair beautifully with sautéed mushrooms. One minced shallot can go a long way.

So how do you mince these small and irregularly shaped bulbs? Well, you could mince your shallot by randomly running your knife through it, but that seems to make the flavor more harsh…There must be a better way…

To mince a shallot, use a very sharp chef’s knife or paring knife, whichever you’re more comfortable with. Start by trimming the root.


(Don’t actually cut off the root end, just trim it to keep the little rootlets from getting mixed in with the rest of the shallot later. Also, the root end of the shallot will act as a little handle, keeping the shallot together and making it easier to hold onto as you cut it, especially as you reach the end.) Cut off the stem end.


Peel the shallot.


Place the shallot stem end down, and cut it in half.


Working with one half at a time, position the shallot near the edge of your cutting board (so that your knuckles don’t hit the board as you work) with the cut side down and the stem end facing your knife. Make a series of horizontal cuts parallel to the cutting board.


But don’t cut all the way through.


And be careful to keep your fingers out of the way of the blade.


Reposition the shallot in the center of your cutting board with the stem end facing the tip of your knife and make a series of vertical cuts parallel to the plane from the root end to the stem end of the shallot.


Again, don’t cut all the way through the root end.


Finally, reposition the shallot in the center of your cutting board with the stem end facing your knife and make a series of cuts at a 90-degree angle to the other cuts, as if you were just slicing the shallot.


When you reach the root end, discard it.


Shallots minced in this manner are relatively consistent, which means they will cook very evenly.


Some cooks like to switch the order of the first and second series of cuts, making the cuts from the root to the stem of the shallot first and then making the cuts parallel to the board. But since the most precarious part of dicing a shallot is cutting horizontally, it really is easiest to do that first, while the shallot half is still intact.

The distance between cuts determines the size of the mince. For a fine mince, make the cuts closer together, and conversely, for a larger mince, make the cuts farther apart.

If this looks familiar, that’s because this very same technique, but of course on a larger scale, is used for dicing and chopping onions.

Southwestern Flavor

I love the food of the American Southwest, and even if a dish isn’t Southwestern, I can make it taste like it is. Because everything tastes better with chiles. And chorizo.


Split Pea & Chorizo Soup
Printable Recipe

3 tablespoons canola oil
½ pound bulk Mexican chorizo, crumbled
1 large yellow onion, diced
2 stalks celery, diced
1 carrot, diced
3 to 4 cloves garlic, minced
1 teaspoon pure chile powder
1 teaspoon ground cumin
¼ teaspoon Mexican oregano
Generous pinch cayenne pepper
½ cup beer, preferably a Mexican ale
3 quarts chicken broth
1 4-ounce can diced green chiles
2 ½ cups split peas, picked over
1 bay leaf
1 tablespoon freshly squeezed lime juice
Kosher salt
Freshly ground black pepper

Heat a large, heavy pot over medium-high heat until very hot but not smoking. Add the oil and swirl to coat the bottom of the pot. Add the chorizo and cook for 4 to 5 minutes, tossing about 2 times, until crusty and brown in spots.*


Reduce the heat to medium, add the onion, and sauté for 4 to 5 minutes, or until soft. Add the celery and carrot and sauté for another 3 to 4 minutes, or until soft. Add the garlic, chile powder, cumin, Mexican oregano, and cayenne and sauté 1 to 2 minutes more, or until fragrant. Add the beer and simmer for a minute or so, scraping up the brown bits from the bottom of the pan with a heat-proof spatula. Add the broth, green chiles, split peas, and bay leaf. Bring to a boil and simmer, stirring occasionally, for about 2 hours, or until the split peas fall apart. Remove from the heat, discard the bay leaf, and skim off any fat from the surface of the soup. Stir in the lime juice and season to taste with salt and pepper. Ladle into bowls and serve immediately.

Serves 6 as a main course. If you can’t find bulk chorizo sausage, get some links of chorizo and remove the casings. Dried Mexican oregano, which has a unique floral character, can be found at some gourmet grocers and (usually for less than a dollar) at any Mexican market. If you can’t find it, just omit it from the recipe; don’t substitute common oregano.


*Searing the chorizo in this manner adds tons of flavor to the finished dish. For everything you ever wanted to know about searing, plus dozens of fabulous searing recipes, look for my book Seared to Perfection in stores in the fall of 2010.