Cooking without a fully stocked kitchen can be difficult, but it’s not impossible. Here are three recipes that you can make in your microwave with just basic ingredients and a mug. Healthier and more delicious than processed foods and just as quick and easy as pre-made microwave meals, these recipes elevate dorm room dining.

If you’re in the mood for a hot breakfast (or just a good dose of protein at any time in the day), try microwave scrambled eggs. I will admit that they aren’t quite as good as eggs made on the stove, but they are still certainly worth trying. The eggs puff up quite a bit and become fluffy—almost like a soufflé. This is a recipe you can definitely try spicing up by adding hot sauce, vegetables, bacon, or whatever else you have in your fridge.

Prep Time 2 minutes Cook Time 1 ½ minutes

Ingredients

• 2 eggs
• 2 tablespoons milk
• 3 tablespoons cheese of your choice
• Salt and pepper to taste

Instructions

1. Crack both eggs into your mug.

2. Add milk, cheese, salt and pepper.

3. Beat until completely blended.

4. Microwave 45 seconds. The top should be fluffy but the bottom will be uncooked.

5. Flip your “soufflé” over so that the cooked portion is at the bottom of the mug and the raw egg mixture is at the top.

6. Microwave 45 seconds (or until done).

Mac and cheese in a mug has been my favorite dorm room creation so far. It’s easy and fast to make and infinitely better than microwavable Easy Mac or Maruchan Ramen. There are also endless possibilities for customizing your pasta. In the future, I’d like to try making it with pesto, red sauce, kimchi, veggies or Italian sausage. You can use leftovers from home or borrow some ingredients from the Dewick or Carm salad bar like I did.

Prep Time 3 minutes Cook Time 4 ½ minutes

Ingredients

• ¾ cup macaroni
• ¾ cup water
• Dash of salt
• 3 tablespoons milk
• ¼ cup mushrooms
• ½ cup cheese of your choice
• Sriracha to taste

Instructions

1. Put the macaroni and water in your mug with a dash of salt.

2. Microwave for 4 minutes (be careful it doesn’t overflow!). The macaroni should be done but a little bit al dente.

3. Add the milk, mushrooms, cheese and sriracha (or whatever ingredients you have chosen) and mix thoroughly.

4. Microwave for 45 seconds or until done.

 

There are hundreds of different cakes and other sweets you can make in just a few minutes in a mug. A favorite of mine is Melissa’s Chocolate Chip Cookie in a Mug (The recipe can be found here). Some desserts made in a mug don’t turn out quite right but this is just as good as anything from an oven. The texture is fluffier than your typical chocolate chip cookie and absolutely delicious!

Prep Time 5 minutes Cook Time 1 minute

Ingredients

• 1 tablespoon butter
• 1 tablespoon granulated white sugar
• 1 tablespoon of firmly packed brown sugar
• 3 drops of vanilla extract
• Pinch of kosher salt
• 1 egg yolk
• Just under ¼ of all-purpose flour
• 2 heaping tablespoons of semi-sweet chocolate chips

Instructions

1. Start by just melting your butter in the microwave.
2. Add sugars, vanilla and salt. Stir to combine.
3. Separate your egg and add the yolk to your cup. Stir to combine.
4. Add flour and stir again. Measure a scant, slightly less than full, ¼ cup of all-purpose flour.
5. Add the chocolate chips, and give a final stir. Now your mixture will look like cookie dough.
6. Cook in microwave 40-60 seconds, starting to check for doneness at 40 seconds. Do not cook past one minute: just like a regular cookie, this will continue cooking as it cools.
7. Serve warm.

 -Joyce Harduvel

When my friend suggested that we go to Five Horses Tavern, a restaurant and bar in Davis, for dinner, I was rather skeptical of her choice. As a pescatarian, I am never too enthusiastic about the food at establishments that pride themselves in their alcoholic beverages. When beer is center stage, a restaurant’s food menu often plays a supporting role (if not wholly neglected).

Indeed, bar food tends to be greasy and severely lacking in the vegetarian department. As expected, Five Horses had an expansive drink list and offered classic tavern bites including three types of wings. However, what separated this dive from its boozy brethren was its shockingly gourmet fare and ample vegetarian options.

To start, we ordered the fried calamari, an appetizer that successfully revamped conventional tavern eats. Not only was the calamari well executed (not rubbery in the least), it was also interspersed with cubes of mango and accompanied by a ginger dipping sauce. This may sound like an odd pairing, but the juicy sweetness of the fruit and tang of the vinaigrette were refreshingly complementary to the squid.

In the same vein, the kitchen put a fancy spin on some other comfort foods. Lobster and pork belly gave mac and cheese and pizza a unique twist, while raw honey dressed up a traditional fried chicken sandwich.

I eagerly anticipated my entrée, the “grazing plate,” after being pleasantly surprised by the first course. My order was quite good, in spite of its unappealing name. The plate contained a colorful smattering of veggies, including quinoa, pumpkin puree, roasted squash, sautéed Swiss chard, and one of my favorite foods: Chinese broccoli! Again, I was shocked by how flavorful and well prepared my dish was. In addition, I had a bite of my friend’s “okra gumbo,” a stew of peppers, onion, garlic, beans, and wild rice; it was equally as delicious. I didn’t taste the “pato loco,” a burrito filled with duck, pork belly, wild rice, onion, Swiss chard, and scallions, but my friends gave it high marks.

While Five Horses Tavern exceeded expectations, it is important to keep in mind that this was no difficult feat (given that my expectations were quite low). Though I undoubtedly enjoyed the meal, this restaurant would not be my go-to dinner establishment. The food was a tad overpriced in my opinion – my plate cost $14 and “bread and butter” was a $4 appetizer. Everything from the atmosphere to the food was good but not exceptional. Then again, a bottle of one of their 130 types of beer might have changed my assessment.

In all, the Tavern is worth a visit for carnivores and vegetarians alike, but it should not be a priority.

Ambiance: B+

Service: B+

Food (taste): B

Food (presentation): B+

Price: $18/person

Overall: B+

-Alison Sikowitz

Cover photo source.

RESTAURANT REVIEW: West Bridge Restaurant

Nearly open for a year, West Bridge is back in the limelight, this time under Food & Wine’s fanfare. Chef-owner and Aquitaine alum Matthew Gaudet made the list of the magazine’s ten Best New Chefs, and the culinary tour de force has breathed new life into an ever-changing dining scene of Kendall Square, now a swanky destination for neighbors Blue Room and Area Four, and more conveniently a cafeteria for the tech wunderkind of Microsoft and Google.

That Gaudet has previously worked his way up in Eleven Madison Park and Jean Georges—much like the ambitious chefs today—shouldn’t be reason to dine here. Paradoxical, in fact, is how West Bridge is conveniently designed like an industrial-chic cafe cum storage facility: veneered woods throughout, high ceilings, prohibition-era lamps, exposed white-bricks, and no tablecloth in sight harks back to a sandwich-stop.

On the flipside, however, is subtle elevation here and there, like gorgeously unfinished porcelain,1950’s window blinds, a keen eye to eye-popping color in their terrific vegetables dishes, and charming (but not schmoozing-ly so) waiters dressed in pale pink oxford shirts. Come in bohemian chic attire—distressed denim paired with white poplin shirts seems to be the norm—a vintage suit, or a t-shirt bearing the name of your company. On our first dining occasion, we spot a man in his late 20’s with a Twitter-logo t-shirt and corduroy blazer working off Wednesday night munchies. He seemed to be enjoying himself — first trappings of a happy diner.

The real test is the food, most of which is astonishingly good. Do come with high expectations, as Gaudet is here to exceed them all: from a woven basket, snug with warm, fluffy sourdough bread to roughly snipped carrots and the Eggs in the Jar. The latter dish, reproduced in an intersection between oeufs en cocotte and onsen tamago (or so my Japanese aficionado dining-partner enthusiastically points out), has been a media-darling in recent press reviews, and rightfully so: in a tiny mason jar, smoky, golden duck eggs, cooked just past runny till it just barely quivers, co-mingle with crisp duck skin, silky pommes puree and hen of the woods mushrooms to a holier-than-thou perfection. By far, the $12 dish contends as among the best egg dishes ever conceived — rich, salty, fatty and faintly umami.

But perfection doesn’t always come at the cost of excess. Gaudet’s produce-driven menu means that products as simple as carrots and cauliflowers are given the most respectful treatment, and small tasting portions, too, warrant breadth in dining. Highly recommended is his carrots ($11), which arrive with strings attached, literally with their chewy stalks, blackened with a smoky sear, an aioli-like barney milk, whipped to tart-tinged thickness that counterbalances the acidity of the slightly crunchy carrots. Or the beets ($9), roasted like meat and similarly paired with sweet dates.

There is also no shortage of more carnivorous options, like Crispy Pigs Head ($13), which sounds like respectful homage to Tony Maws’ Crispy Pigs Ears at Craigie on Main but in reality is a simpler—remarkably so—in its crisp deep-fried form is offset by a delicate fried-egg puree, root vegetables and crowned with frisee: textbook perfect in theory, but missing in the dreaminess that Gaudet weaves in his previous dishes. Luckily, a rich but not cloying seafood potages takes you there, and beyond. With clams and mussels, Gaudet nods to New England chowder ($14); with cider subtly thrown in the mix, he brings in a lightness that isn’t watered-down; with uni butter there’s an elevation into highbrow, and with grilled toast he expects you to wipe-up every last drop. But here, an extra kick: twirls of chewy calamari, cut thin, long and strewn into the soup-bowl as if it’s clam-chowder-noodle soup. Ingenious.

So enraptured diners might be in the small plates that they ignore the bigger picture: entrees and “big” plates to share. It’s difficult to decide.

“Oh gosh, I love them all,” our server Grey quips as we ponder in undecided silence. Even the Chicken ($42; portioned for 2-4), which he insists is so tender and ‘bacon-ey.’ We decided to give in, and never looked back.

Perched nakedly on a platter, a whole chicken has been expertly segmented to showcase the breast in pristine form, and the drumstick unscathed as it rightfully should. You might not need the jus, which only moistens an already perfectly-roasted bird more; roasted skin, crisp but not overly so, encases the well-bred meat’s pillowy tenderness — white with a faint trace of pink creeping towards the drumstick. Eat them with little treasures that fill a small ramekin: thick-diced bacon and cubed trumpet royale mushrooms. Or better yet: have the platter arrive with a heaping plate of Black Tuscan Kale ($11), sweetened with bright yellow gooseberries, duck confit, and finished with a spritz of lemon—any veggie lover’s wet-dream.

If only desserts ($8), announced at the end of dinner, could live up to expectations, then one needn’t end the meal on a lesser note. With something as theoretically unique as white-chocolate, coffee and parsnip parfait, nothing jives. The parfait, an over-frozen block of custard, a bland coffee gelee (much like granita), and an unnecessary flourish of coffee-clove foam are all difficult to finish. Slightly better is a deconstructed lemon meringue resembling a slab of butter speckled with shortbread crumble: a citrusy, if not sickly sweet treat. It’s a break to our momentary revel in gastronomic silence, but hopefully a short-lived one, too. West Bridge is still making waves, and we’re all in for the ride.

- Jon Cheng

B+*

Ambiance: B

Service: A-

Food: B+

If there is one thing I will dearly miss from my recent trip to Puerto Rico aside from the sun and its accompanying warmth, it is mofongo. A quintessential food of San Juan, it is a signature Puerto Rican dish of garlic-flavored mashed plantains, traditionally served in a wooden mortar with side dishes of beans and rice. Filled with beef, crab, shrimp, chicken, or vegetables and drizzled with warm broth and chunks of your preferred protein, the dish is truly a must-try for foodie travelers, especially since the dish has become something of a national staple amidst the plethora of local food offerings.

Before I further dwell on mofongo, it might be useful to know some background about the island’s cooking. While Puerto Rican cuisine resembles Spanish, Cuban, and Mexican cuisines, it is actually a unique blend of European, African, American, South American, and Taino-Amerindian influences. It uses a lot of local ingredients and spices, such as cacao, coriander, and (lots and lots of) plantains. As a matter of fact, plantains are an important and highly demanded crop in many agricultural sectors of Puerto Rico, so much so that some varieties of plantains are imported.

Anyway, my appreciation for mofongo is by no means accidental. My friends who traveled to San Juan last year have repeatedly told me about the Caribbean delicacies they enjoyed throughout their trip, which include, but are not limited to tostones (crispy fried plantains), tropical fruit-flavored sherbets, and mofongos, which according to them cannot be found anywhere in Boston.

As a shameless follower of various food blogs and a devotee of Yelp and the likes, I had to find out about the various local restaurants that supposedly serve some of the most-loved versions of the dish prior to my flight from Boston… Only to be forced to pick several that is conveniently located to Old San Juan, as my friends as I spent most of our holiday there. Three of my favorite versions are from El Jibarito, Punto De Vista, and Barrachina. According to our tour guide, the former two are local favorites, while the latter is a mere “tourist trap” as it is the home of the Piña Colada. I cannot comment on that for I am no expert on Caribbean food, though I did think that the steak mofongo I had Barrachina was as delicious… Hashtag tourist problems.

Sadly, most, if not all, of my photos do not do the dish any justice. If you are planning to visit Puerto Rico or even New York some time soon, please do yourself a favor and try the goodness at its best mashed form. Otherwise, you can try to make a simple, vegetarian-friendly version on your own by following this recipe (adapted from the Travel and Living Channel): 

Ingredients

• 4 green plantains, peeled and sliced into one-inch rounds
• 2 cups chicken or beef stock
• 2 tablespoons of crushed garlic
• 2 tablespoons of butter or olive oil
• Salt and black pepper to taste

Preparation

• In a medium sized stockpot over high heat, add plantains and stock. Bring to a boil and let cook for 10 minutes or until the plantains are soft.
• In a small sauté pan over low heat, add garlic and butter or oil and cook for 3 minutes, or until the garlic begins to soften. Remove from heat and set aside.
• Once the plantains are soft, remove from heat and mash. Add garlic oil and salt and pepper to taste.
• Garnish with tofu, beef, chicken, or seafood and serve warm.

Buen provecho!

El Jibarito

Calle Sol 280
San Juan, Puerto Rico 00901

(787) 725-8375

http://www.eljibaritopr.com

Punto De Vista

1 Cll Juan Antonio Coretejas
Plaza Covadonga
San Juan, Puerto Rico 00901

(787) 725-4860

Barrachina

104 Fortaleza St
San Juan, Puerto Rico 00901

(787) 725-7912

http://www.barrachina.com

-Andari Gusman

Cover photo source.

If you’re a serious foodie and have gone out for Italian, you’ve probably had that classic face-palm moment when your unenlightened companions mispronounce “bruschetta” (it’s pronounced brus-k-etta, by the way). Bruschetta is probably the most familiar variation of the classic Mediterranean combination of crusty, grilled bread and a normally vegetable and oil-based topping, but I’d like to introduce you to a few other fun variations on this dish, some of which should be easy enough to pronounce while others may have even the most dedicated left stumped.

First off, though, I’d like to introduce a little history. Bruschetta and friends are really the quintessential rustic food for the warmer latitudes. Historically the rural population turned toward combinations of fats, cheap carbohydrates like potatoes, bread, and starchy vegetables, and whatever else they could scrounge up to keep themselves alive. Whereas this manifested in northerly climates as the infamous fat-based puddings and pies, in Mediterranean climates where the supply of animal fat was low and the availability of produce and olive oil significantly higher, dishes like tapas and bruschetta dominated.

The base of a traditional bruschetta is a slice of crusty bread, typically from a loaf going stale. Grilled on an open-flame grill (or, if you don’t happen to live in a Mediterranean climate, a griddle), it then receives a topping that thoroughly soaks the bread. The bruschetta topping is highly variable, based on ingredient availability and season. Most typical is olive oil, tomato, garlic and/or onions, though in Italy there are also more exotic varieties that haven’t necessarily made the transition to American plates; we’re talking versions with charcuterie, offal (typically a pork-based pâté), cheese, beans, and (especially in Sicily) red peppers. Really when you’re considering making bruschetta you should put yourself in the mindset of a poor Italian peasant: use what you have at hand! Any combination of Mediterranean spices, vegetables and olive oil will probably taste pretty awesome.

Outside of Italy the theme continues with a whole bunch of variation. Catalonia might be known for its seafood, but highland peasants tended to eat more escalivada (es-cali-vada) than fish. A thick mixture of thoroughly grilled (literally until the outsides are blackened) vegetables and oil can be used as a spread on grilled bread or in a “bread salad” similar to caprese. Most recipes I’ve seen use eggplant, pepper, onion, and/or tomato, forming a paste much like a pâté. This recipe is great in the summer when you can camp out around a fire or grill; but it also makes a great accompaniment to jamón serrano and other Spanish meat.  In Mediterranean France another bruschetta-like dish is tartine; the version typical in Provence combines a tapenade (fancy word for olive paste) with tuna or anchovy. French cuisine also includes croûton, which outside of salads refers to any lightly fried/roasted slice of bread and often refers to a bruschetta-like dish using these slices. In the Basque country of Spain and France, the pintxo (pint-cho) is the local variation on tapas (themselves of similar origin to bruschetta). Typical tapas ingredients like tortilla (the Spanish kind, with egg and potato), vegetables, and skewered fish, which all can be served over a slice of toasted bread.

Since its origins in rural households, the idea of bruschetta has really expanded into a whole world of creative combinations of crusty bread and toppings. Whether they stick to using simple, seasonal ingredients for a delicious savory appetizer or venture boldly into the realm of sweet toppings like fruit, these easy and versatile dishes should be high on the list of great options for college students, especially if you want to impress a date (check out our recipes section for more student-friendly ideas). Also, here’s a video recipe for a great mushroom ricotta bruschetta by Food Wishes:

-Edmund Brennan

Cover photo source.

Lavender has been a trendy addition to gourmet dishes for some time now, and rightly so. It brings a floral lightness and strong fragrance that pairs well with meats as well as desserts. Bistro du Midi (right near the Arlington Green Line stop) is the place to go to explore lavender—it’s incorporated in everything from beignets and French toast to duck. But if you’re not in the mood for an expensive meal, there are plenty of ways to try lavender at home.

My favorite is Dagoba’s lavender blueberry dark chocolate. The chocolate is 59% cacao and thus isn’t very bitter. This complements the strong and aromatic lavender. The blueberry doesn’t add much, but the flavors are perfectly balanced and the chocolate is impossibly smooth.

If you would rather try lavender in a drink, I recommend DRY Soda’s lavender soda. Living up to its name, DRY Soda is very dry and not too sweet. Although it would be ideal for a cocktail, it’s also a refreshing and unique beverage on its own. The lavender soda is ideal for someone just trying out the herb as the flavoring is very light and comes more as a fragrant aftertaste.

Finally, if you are itching to use lavender in a recipe, Williams-Sonoma’s lavender-lemon Bundt cake is the place to start. The ingredients are all standard ones you probably already have at home (if you like to bake!), but you will need a tablespoon of culinary lavender. You can get nine grams of French lavender at Williams-Sonoma for just under $8. It’s definitely a worthwhile investment—lavender keeps for quite a while and can add a twist to stews, meats, desserts, and drinks. Lemon and lavender is a classic combo and this cake blends them effortlessly. The lavender isn’t too strong and adds a layer of complexity to a classic lemon cake.  The recipe is simple enough, but the product is outstanding: delicious, light, elegant, and perfect for spring!

-Joyce Harduvel

We have reached the home stretch of the semester. In a mere four weeks, the academic year will come to a finals-laden conclusion and I will have to face the fact that my summer is still one big question mark. And the only thing more daunting than kissing a quarter of college goodbye is the amount of work separating me from the end of the academic year.

On the bright side, spring has arrived, albeit tentatively, and the improving conditions make it easier to venture off campus even if the excursion must be work-oriented. But in my view, there are few better ways to write a paper than in a relaxed environment with good coffee on hand.

True Grounds, a coffee house on Broadway and Willow, is the perfect destination for such an undertaking. The café is a short walk from campus but is easy to overlook due to its rather lackluster exterior. However, True Grounds’ outdated storefront does not do its cozy but hip interior justice.

The shop has a surprisingly large amount of seating, including two large couches in the back. In addition to room to camp out for a couple hours (though I have a feeling the place gets pretty crowded in the spring), the café’s large windows and chill tunes create an atmosphere conducive to both being productive and unwinding with a book or conversation with a friend. An hour of free Wi-Fi is an added bonus.

But even the cutest coffee shop would not merit a visit if it lacked good coffee. Thankfully, True Grounds is equally as stellar in the food department. The extensive drink menu boasts a wide variety of hot chocolates (“the nutella” and “almond joy” sounded particularly appealing), unconventional lattes (including “honey” and “raz mocha”), and seasonal specials (the most recent were “winter chai” and “honey harvest”). These off-the-wall options were tempting, but I settled on my comparatively mundane favorite: a soy café au lait.

I was pleased to find that True Grounds has not lost sight of the basics in its pursuit of the unconventional. My café au lait came in a big, sturdy mug and was simultaneously rich and smooth. The coffee’s understated flavor made it the ideal companion for my choice of pastry, a cinnamon chip scone. I couldn’t resist the cinnamon-sugar colossus after the barista informed me that all of the muffins and scones are made in house on the daily. And man did it live up to expectations. The crunch exterior and crumbly, cake-y interior yielded the ideal balance between muffin and cookie, afternoon snack and indulgence. The scone was quite buttery and sweet (as is to be expected of a scone) but addictive as opposed to overwhelming. I promised myself that I would save half for later – you can imagine how well that went. The combo cost $4.90, a reasonable bill considering the quality and size of my fare.

True Grounds also has a sandwich/salad menu to satiate cravings for a savory bite. Though somewhat pricier than the beverages and baked goods, these offerings seem well executed, wholesome, and tasty. I strongly recommend this charming, local spot for any occasion.

Ambiance: A  

Service: A

Food (taste): A

Food (presentation): A-

Price: $5-$10/person

Overall: A

717 Broadway

Somerville, MA 02144

(617) 591-9559

truegrounds.com

 -Alison SIkowitz

This is an article of personal opinion. The opinions expressed here are fully my own and not necessarily those of Tasty Tufts.

When I wrote my article on the Paleo diet, I sought to be as impartial as possible. I kept to the essentials—what it was, what Tufts students should know about trying it, and whether I thought it was feasible at Tufts. That being said, for me nutrition and the sheer variety of popular diets is an issue about which I have no shortage of opinions. These diets represent a critical influence on the food world; alternative cooking techniques, swap-ins and novel ingredients are part and parcel of taking certain aspects of the culinary world out of your diet. Whether you’re swearing off animal products, vegetable oils, agricultural products, or gluten, you’re eventually going to seek a diet-friendly alternative to your favorite foods. That’s where the innovation really happens.

What does this mean for the future of the industry? We can see it already with veganism and I predict it’ll come even more to the front as the food world moves to meet the gluten-free and Paleo/Primal diets. Veganism demanded even greater development than vegetarianism, especially in terms of replacing milk products and eggs and supplying sufficient nutrition in their absence. As a result the culinary world was immeasurably strengthened. As someone who loves his greens just as much as his red meat, a world without the creative approach of vegetarians and vegans is one I don’t want to live in. Kenji Lopez-Alt of Serious Eats really identified what I see as the key benefit provided by these diets to the wider food world, what he calls “diversity through restriction”. When you can’t do something one way, you have to try it another way; the result in some cases (as in his experience with Mapo Tofu and vegan mayonnaise) can be even better than the original. I’ve seen this personally in experimenting with low-fat milk products like kefir, skim ricotta, cottage cheese and Greek Yogurt. One of my favorite sandwiches is the reuben, but to be honest I won’t be ordering it at restaurants very often – I was surprised to find that a yogurt-based Russian dressing tastes a lot better than the standard mayonnaise Thousand Island (it’s also more authentic, as it’s actually what’s supposed to be on a real reuben).

On the other hand, I also have a bit of a problem with these diets as well. My problem really is that they are fundamentally inimical to a polite dining experience. Part of eating out is appreciation of the talent of the chef and trusting that he or she has an active interest in your having a good experience. Accommodation on his or her part should be a matter of respect—expecting or even demanding that he or she devalue their product to suit your needs is an insult to him or her. It’s fortunate for us all that many restaurants have begun to make their own accommodations for dietary restrictions, and as I discussed above, the idea of diversity through restriction could apply wonderfully in a setting where a skilled chef is present—I’d provide the example of Tony Maws of Craigie On Main serving up a full vegan selection for Kenji and his father. Also, at Chef Amanda Cohen’s critically acclaimed Manhattan restaurant, Dirt Candy, the vegetable takes center-stage in all appetizers, entrees, and desserts.

The other problem I have with restrictive diets is the limitations they create for others. Case in point: vegetable oils. Quite frankly, I don’t like them. For me, the evidence is pretty strong in Paleo’s court on most vegetable oils: in their industrially-produced form, they’re not really the best things we could be cooking with. As such, the adoption of vegetable oil and promotion of vegetable oil-only cooking scares me. When I did my analysis of the dining halls for the Paleo article, I couldn’t help but feel that the choice to use vegetable oil in cooking the meat was wrong. That’s not to say I feel that everything should be in butter or bacon fat, but in accommodating vegetarians and vegans you’ve hit everyone else as well. I personally would have chosen coconut or avocado oil as a safe cooking fat for all sides.

( (Swiss) Paleo’s take on Pizza, it’s Meatza. From Stuff I Make My Husband)

To finish up this piece I’d like to conclude with a point about health. In writing my article I tried to avoid the issue of whether switching to Paleo would help lose weight. This really is for me a huge fallacy in the whole idea of adopting a diet—health is about so much more than numbers on a scale. Not to mention the fact that intrinsically no restrictive diet is healthier than any other. It’s all an issue of calories in and calories out. That being said, I like that people have become interested in these diets because (in most cases) it means they cut out the crap. People on a restrictive diet cook more, eat less processed food, and in most cases care more about what they put into themselves. For me, those three components are more important than what you restrict yourself to. If you care about what you’re putting into yourself, you will be a healthier person. If you already love food, I can’t imagine that you don’t care, and that’s why I think food lovers have the potential to be the healthiest people on the planet.

If you want to read more about Kenji Lopez-Alt’s vegan experience, here’s the link.

-Edmund Brennan

Joel stared down at a stainless-steel tray of sea-scallops, fascinated by how the kitchen lamp brought out the molluscs’ shiny, translucent interior despite the fact that he flash-fried it for ten seconds with just olive oil moments before, and conscious that they were sweet and thick enough despite a light dusting of smoked lime-rind and a dusting of crumbled pistachios. They were perfect. Absolutely perfect, but again he felt a nervous pang — one that he hasn’t felt in a while.

“Diver scallops for table two,” he muttered under his breath. The server looked at him quietly, trying to notice the faintest hint of acknowledgement, at least some hint of excitement for the very first order that left the kitchen. Opening day, 6:00 pm. It was a big day for the 29-year old Joel-Damien Price. He had re-done his buzz-cut, lopping off curly, auburn hair that he had pre-appointment at Manhattan’s finest barber, Martial Vivot. If Daniel Boulud had his $200 haircuts there, then Joel had to follow in the esteemed chef’s footsteps. Revelling in a moment of quiet reverence, Joel chastised himself for purposefully not inviting Boulud to opening night. And awkward tensions aside, Joel was Boulud’s protege, having cooked his way up from garde manger to executive chef at Cafe Boulud. And then it happened: Boulud passed him over for Joel’s sous-chef to take the job. “It’s for your best intentions,” the three-Michelin star chef told Joel outside the kitchen, over a quiet post-dinner snack of langoustines cocktail, but Joel wouldn’t listen, not even to Boulud’s plan to send him to his mentor, Roger Verge for 6-months. No, Joel Price was ready to show himself to the world. Upon leaving on “good terms” — Boulud earnestly wished him the very best — He was ready for the frenzied-press to drool over his superstar credentials: a Harvard Graduate degree, a stint at Jose Andres’ Jaleo, and then at Boulud.

His hair now resembled a chocolate dusted crust on a near-perfect skull, with deep-blue eyes, a tiny, slender nose that betrayed his fortified sense of scent, and wide, thin-lipped mouth that signalled not just his trademark boyish grin, but his ultra-sensitive palate. He knew to taste saltiness in both ends of his tongue, and relished the opportunity to make do with the fact that he could manipulate the tastes of his guests too, hence his risky move in pairing the pristine scallops atop kalbi-crusted seaweed and funneled smoke from the scallop shells. As that was finished, on the pass, he motioned for his server, Gavin, to close it firmly with a Murano glass cloche. This was ingenious and he knew it. Time to shine.

“Send this over, carefully,” Joel says to Gavin. They were nervous, Joel more than him. He peered over at the far end of the corner to see two journalists, their DSLR cameras by their side, entitled to devour whatever was sent to them. Joel decided that he would charge them for the degustation menu, but add VIP dishes. It was only fair.

Three other tables were filled. “Time to get back to work,” Joel said to himself, as he flurried over back to the meat stations, his face already swathed in a nervous rouge, to scream at Manuel, who overcooked ris de veau, or calfs-livers in a bubbling pot of saffron-spiked milk broth. Fuck this, Joel cursed, I should have just done it sous-vide. Why did he hire him? He looked over at the corner, where Manuel’s brother, Frank, was quietly dicing pearl onions and following that rhythmic motion of tossing them into a sesame-oil marinated chanterelles. He knew what he was doing, despite his emotionless guide, he was very much into it, again despite the fact that he used to work alongside Joel in a completely different setting. That explained why his surgically precise knife-skills were bar-none better than even the best in Michelin-run kitchens.  But that was a story for another time.

Joel relaxed a little, but only momentarily. Gavin, who doubled as a temporary Sommelier, returned with a bottle of vintage Lafite Rothschild. Jesus, who the fuck asked a high-roller to dine here on opening night, Joel grumbled. The ridiculously wealthy ones were always the most entitled. However Gavin was here on a different mission.

“Chef,” he said slowly. “One of the guests invites you for a glass of this in the salon.”

“I have no fucking friends,” Joel snapped. “Tell him I’m busy. In fact, show them the bottle and take out a bottle of our cheapest from the basement. And serve it on a bucket of ice-cubes and see if they care.”

“She insists,” Gavin said, with a slight tremble in his voice.

“She?”

“Yeah, um, she seems to know who you are.”

“She give a name? I don’t care if Michelle Obama comes in here. I can’t afford to lose focus,” Joel growled.

“Uh, well there’s one other thing…incredibly weird actually”

“What?”

“She keeps addressing you by Doctor. And she says that she came all the way from Chicago to eat here, and told me to tell you not to waste her precious time.”

Joel’s face, previously flushed in heirloom, turned cream-white as color drained completely. Until now, he was certain that he kept his cover in check; nevertheless he knew he left crumbs — traces of his past — behind. It was only a matter of time before somebody would find out.

“Tell her I’ll be right with her.”

“Yes, Chef.”

Joel closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. From the pocket of his freshly-starched chefs whites he removed a bright pink capsule. He popped one in his mouth, downed it without water and quietly walked out  the kitchen.

 

- TO BE CONTINUED-

Arguably, there is only a handful of good things that the British did for India, but pretty high up on that list of good deeds is the popularization of curry. Even the word “curry” is a British derivation of the Tamil word “kari” which is a term that was used to describe any dish spiced with pepper in the 17^th century. The British helped spread a love for Indian curry around the world but also made most people forget that curry isn’t just Chicken Tikka Masala, but actually encompasses dishes from other Asian and Caribbean countries. Here are some of the defining factors of the different types of curries one can find around the world:

India: Considered the birthplace of curry, Indian curries usually contain more spices and are more varied than any others. Just as different languages are spoke in different regions in India, there are regional variations of curry. Gujarati curries or “shaaks” use more sugar and salt to produce a dish that is simultaneously spicy, salty, and sweet. Cooks in Kerala are heavy-handed with coconut (milk, oil, and grated). Punjabi curries generally contain “paneer” (an Indian cottage cheese) mixed in gravy of rich spices and cream. Almost all Indian restaurants in the West serve Punjabi curries like Chicken Tikka Masala, Palak Paneer, and Malai Kofta. Most Indian cooking begins with a base of onions, garlic, and ginger to which a unique blend of spices is added. Although many people now use all-purpose curry powder, the blend of spices should be unique to each dish and most Indian cooks grind and mix their own spices for each individual dish. The main spices in Indian cooking are coriander, cumin, fennel, cloves, cinnamon, cardamom, turmeric, fenugreek, mustard seeds, and black and red pepper. 

China: Chinese curries are lesser known and are heavily influenced by their Malaysian counterparts. The curries are usually thin and yellow and are commonly eaten with hot chili oil or soy sauce for added flavor. Chinese curry sauce is usually sold in a powder form and used to lend flavor to seafood, vegetables and noodle dishes. The main spices in Chinese curries are cardamom, cayenne pepper, coriander, cumin, red chilies, turmeric, yellow mustard seeds, and white pepper.

Thailand: The different types of Thai curries are usually easy to distinguish from each other since they are characterized by their colors. Green curry derives its color from green chilies and basil, red curry from red chilies, and yellow curry from turmeric. Massaman curry is made from roasted peanuts and Panang curry is a milder, creamier beef curry. The base of Thai curry is usually paste made of hot chilies, lemongrass, blue ginger root, shrimp paste, and garlic. Thai curries tend to share its watery consistency with Chinese curriers; however, this soup like consistency is due to a healthy amount of coconut milk. The main spices in Thai cooking are coriander, cumin, tamarind, green and red chilies, and black pepper.      

Indonesia: Curries in Indonesia are usually referred to as “kari” or “guali” and also vary from region to region like Indian curries. They contain a variety of seafoods and meats, peanuts, coconut milk or meat, and soy sauce. Rendang is one of the most popular curries in Indonesia and is made my simmering Water Buffalo meat in coconut milk. The curry paste in Indonesia differs from curry pastes in India and Thailand since it is a tomato base combined with shallots, garlic, dried shrimp, assam paste (fresh spices with a hint of tamarind), chili, sugar and salt. The main spices in Indonesian curries are Bay leaves, curry leaves, coriander, cumin, chili peppers, turmeric, Kaffir lime leaves, and white pepper.

Japan: Although curry has become a staple of Japanese cuisine, curry was brought to the area by the British. Japanese curry usually comes in three forms: “karē raisu” or curry rice, “karē udon” or curry noodles, and “karē-pan” or curry bread. Curry rice is the most popular form of curry and is usually comprised of a curry sauce made of curry powder, flour, and oil that is added to stewed meat and vegetables and then served over rice. The main spices in Japanese curries are cardamom, coriander, cumin, blue ginger, garlic, ginger, green and red chilies, lemongrass, and turmeric.

Caribbean: When one thinks of the islands of Jamaica, Trinidad, or Martinique, one doesn’t usually think of Indian-style curries. When large populations of Indians settled in these island nations they brought their cuisine with them. The curries of the Caribbean use the same basic blend of spices as those of Indian curries but often use spices native to the islands, including allspice, anise, thyme, and cloves. Trinidadians prefer milder curries and therefore forgo the chili peppers and add a dash of hot sauce for some added heat. Jamaica’s specialty, on the other hand, is Spicy Hot Curry Goat prepared with peppercorns, Scotch bonnet peppers, allspice, annatto oil, cilantro, vinegar, and hot mustard.

-Anushi Shah

Cover photo source.

Tufts dining halls are famous for their wide variation of food. From omelets to stir-fry to a colorful salad bar, there is always a healthy option and something for everyone to eat. However, indulging in similar things each week can at times become tedious, and even with special themed nights and desserts galore, we take our food for granted periodically.  It’s no secret that every once in a while, creativity is crucial.

The key to dining hall originality is combining different foods to create flavors we already love. The added bonus?  You can return to your days of baking—outside the dorm—while taking a break from midterms and finals. Reward yourself for all your hard work by switching up your routine meal for something more unique. This week’s recipe of choice? Rice Krispy Treats (note: works best on sundae nights)

Ingredients:

• Marshmallow fluff
• Rice Krispy Cereal
• Extra toppings (chocolate chips, m&m’s, nutella, etc).
• Paper sundae cups
• Salad bowl

Directions:

1. Scoop marshmallow fluff into bottom of salad bowl
2. Spread rice krispies on top of fluff until most of bowl is full
3. Combine fluff and rice krispies using a fork, until consistently blended
4. Scoop mixture into paper cups
5. Add extra toppings into the cups
6. Pat down mixture so that ingredients are as compressed as possible
7. Eat at this step, or bring cups back to your dorm and place them in the refrigerator
8. Once hardened, pull Rice Krispy Treats out of the cups and enjoy!

Thank you Alex Goldshmidt and Ryan Leung for sharing your dining hall creation!

-Mackenzie Brewster