Fresh, Homemade Ricotta in 15 Minutes

I've long suspected that the dream of homemade cheese is not so lofty as it sounds. About 15 effortless minutes in the kitchen has confirmed this suspicion. It turns out making fresh ricotta is about as difficult as cooking pasta. In fact the process is much the same: combine the ingredients, heat, and strain the liquid.

You'll need:

• Milk
• Lemon juice or white vinegar (1 tbsp/cup of milk)
• Salt (1 large pinch/cup milk)
• Cheesecloth or papertowels

Here's the rundown:

• Line a colander with 1-2 sheets of papertowels or 3-4 sheets cheesecloth and place in a bowl. 
•  Combine the ingredients in a microwave safe bowl.
• Microwave a few minutes (~1 minute more than the number of cups of milk, ie 3 minutes for 2 cups). 
• Stir. If no curds form, heat another 30 seconds, and stir again. Repeat until you've got curd/whey separation. You'll know.
• Scoop out the curds with a slotted spoon and plop them into the awaiting cloth-lined colander.

That's cheese! The longer you let it drain, the firmer it will be (anywhere from 5 minutes to 2 hours), but if you're looking for a softer, spreadier cheese, it's ready to go. That beautiful creamy-white collection of curds can be used for all kinds of amazing dishes. Head over to our Facebook Fan page to let us know your favorite uses for ricotta!

Here are a couple more in-depth explanations: Microwave Style, and Classic Stovetop Style.

Featured Film: I Like Killing Flies

Though his version of "No soup for you" would undoubtedly contain a few choice words unfit for prime-time, Kenny Shopsin, proprietor of the legendary New York diner which bears his name (and which imposes a strict set of rules on its diners), does bear more than a few similarities to Seinfeld's classic Soup Nazi character. Then again, it's tough to imagine Larry Thomas' severe television personality confessing that he used to believe that only path to change was through Freudian analysis, or to extend his ongoing battle with the flies in his kitchen to a metaphor for the war in the middle east and, in fact, the entirety of human conflict. Indeed, the central figure in Matt Mahurin's documentary I Like Killing Flies is about as complex and interesting as a subject as a film could hope for.

The loose story arc of the film, which follows the Shopsin family's forced relocation, due to a rent hike, from the corner location that they'd occupied for 30 years, could have easily been milked for all sorts of juicy big-picture documentary moralizing about the sadly changing ways of the world, but the filmmaker is wise enough to know that the real story here is Shopsin himself, whose string of seeming contradictions gradually begin to make a certain odd sense the longer you sit with them. The restaurant itself is certainly unique enough, offering a 10 page, 900 item menu with idiosyncratic menu items such as mac and cheese pancakes (born when a customer who always ordered one of the two titular components one day couldn't decide between the two), post modern pancakes (pancakes, cooked up, torn up, added back to the batter, and cooked again.) and Indomalekian Sunrise Stew (a traditional dish of a country invented by Shopin and one of his sons). But the restaurant, like the film, would be just another in a long line of perfectly palatable variations on a theme without the charismatic character that drives it. With him, however, both are unmissable experiences.

The Sideways of Sashimi

During this week's sojourn in central California's wine country for a destiny-determining culinary showdown between three inspired chefs and three adventurous ladies, a stretch-Hummer limo, initially seen disembarking from the Firestone Winery parking lot, was later spotted lying in wait just outside the Hitching Post restaurant. Presumably, this comically massive vessel was providing transportation between the iconic locales of the 2004 film Sideways. Strange, the juxtaposition between a movie whose focus settles on the subtlety and beauty of wine appreciation, and a vehicle which could have been an extra in a Big Mac of a movie like Transformers or its supersized sequel. Sideways surely found an audience in many folks who might have otherwise considered such a passion for wine as our protagonist possesses to be mere snobbery; people who would find the exegesis of a well-crafted Pinot too rarified a subject were it not neatly nestled in a compelling narrative, like a veterinarian's prescription concealed in a slice of lunch meat.
    But as heartening as it was to see Sideways' winespeak-laden script succeed, try to imagine a world in which the film spawned a long-running television series, with each successive season set in a new growing region, and with each episode dedicated to detailing the finer points of a particular varietal. There would be a niche market for it, certainly. But it's tough to imagine any degree of mainstream success. However, if you substitute the art of Japanese cuisine for that of wine, and comic panels for moving pictures, you'd have something pretty close to the hugely popular (in Japan, at least) manga Oishinbo. Despite its elevated subject matter, the series has sold over 100 million copies of its 102 volumes since its inception in 1983. I'm not sure which is more delightfully shocking; that someone managed to successfully publish one hundred and two volumes of a comic detailing the intricacies of Japanese cuisine, from sake to vegetables to rice to gyoza, or that these seemingly esoteric tales sell like a Michael Bay film.

    Just as a mere glass of fermented grape juice might contain a whole universe of subtleties, the superficial simplicity of Japanese cuisine lends itself to an increased focus on the nuances. Take sashimi. Little more than simple hunks of raw fish, it is a dish capable of tremendous complexity, a fact which Tetsu Kariya, Oishinbo's author, goes to great length to convince you. If you're not sufficiently food-nerdy to be intrigued by the mere prospect of an in-depth exploration of preparing the perfect pot of rice, then have faith in the mighty power of story. By the time our protaganist Yamaoka Shiro, a culinary journalist who splits his time between developing the "Ultimate Menu" and working through some father issues, has emerged from his third or fourth cliffhanger cookoff or culinary showdown in which both honor and pleasure are on the line, you'll be calling in reservations to your nearest sushi restaurant to experience the food of Japan with a newfound appreciation and understanding.

Cultured Pickle Shop

"I'd like a pickle"
"A pickle? What kind of pickle? Parsnip? Turnip? Curried Carrot? What?"
"Uh. A pickle."

There's a sign outside of Cultured pickle shop in Berkeley, CA, that says Pickle Shop. Which makes sense. It seems like one of the most logical phrases to put on a sign intended for placement in front of such a shop. Sure, it might strike a more poetically minded person as a bit on the nose. Not a lot of subtext. Little intrigue. Just the facts, ma'am. And sure, there are more verbose, stylistic options. Ye Olde Dispensary of Brine Bathed Curiosities comes to mind. The Lactobacillus Enriched Vegetable Emporium, perhaps. But in terms of verbal economy, Pickle Shop has it pegged. Why then, does this paragon of linguistic efficiency induce a steady stream of slightly befuddled customers, staggering into the shop, unable to acquire the vinegar-soaked, dill-laden cucumber they envisioned, like some poor sap requesting Stevie Wonder's "I Just Called to Say I Loved You" at a vintage vinyl snob-shop? As anyone who's as big a nerd about anything as Alex Hozven is about pickles can tell you, when you spend the majority of your waking hours obsessing over some silly (yet completely fascinating and wonderful) little thing, it's easy to lose perspective. For most people, a pickle is a sour cucumber. For Hozven, a pickle is an alchemical marvel of lactic-acid fermentation; a vegetable, as the Japanese put it, altered without the use of heat. Whether it be standards like kimchee and sauerkraut, or more unusual fare such as picked blood oranges, kasu carrots, which utilize the filtered-off byproduct of sake, or the flash-pickling microbial hotbed of the nuka pot, it's all pickles to her. So if all you want is a dill cucumber, you can probably get one. You just have to know what to ask for. 

Featured Website: 101 Cookbooks

We’re jealous of Heidi Swanson. Photographer, food writer, cookbook author, and prolific blogger, she lives the life we all dream of – wrapped in the cool culinary blanket that is the San Francisco food scene. Did we mention that her particular culinary niche is healthy, natural cooking? When we have a hankering for delicious recipes that feature ingredients like mushrooms, beans, tofu – or insert your favorite veggie here – we turn to her site, 101 Cookbooks for inspiration. In addition to eclectic, flavorful dishes, her photography is striking. There is a exquisite image to accompany her daily featured recipe, which just feeds the inspiration to get cooking ASAP. Her writing and photographs have been featured in The Washington Post, Vegetarian Times, Whole Foods Markets, and on NPR. Projects (past and present) have been highlighted in many national and local publications including the Wall Street Journal, LIFE, Shape Magazine, Vegetarian Times, USA Today, Fast Company, Entertainment Weekly, Glamour, and the San Francisco Chronicle. Her Sparkling Ginger Chip Cookies are to die for, and a perfect compliment to warm, cozy holiday festivities.

Sashimi Style: Handmade Cutlery

We can think of no other culture, where the metalurgical arts play such a dominant role than in Japan. Ruminating on the history and the importance of the sword in Samuri lore, it’s no wonder that the ancient art of sword fabrication became interwoven with that of the chef knife. The oldest known Japanese chef knife is over 1200 years old but real craftsmanship for chef knives began to develop in the mid 19th Century and continued after World War Two, when General MacArther banned the production of swords. With many craftsman out of work, the Japanese soon turned their energy to making some of the best and most highly regarded cutlery known to man. The signature of any Japanese Chef Knife is its sharpness. To achieve this, the knives are razor sharp on one side and slightly concave on the reverse side. This makes delicate knife work easy and sharpening a breeze. Once you try a handmade, traditionally crafted Japanese chef knife, you’ll never go back. Our go-to source is Korin.

A Rough Guide to Buckwheat Molasses Bars

I suppose one of the advantages of checkout lines that stretch clear to the back of the store is that you become rather well acquainted with the inventory of the aisle in which you must wait. On a recent grocery run, I stood patiently with my scant 10-items-or-less shopping basket, only enduring a delay so long for grocery so little because a good half of my haul was bulk items, and I can only assume that they'd have been disposed of if found abandoned beneath the bread display. Bravely, I resisted the urge to make the wait feel worthwhile by indulging in rampant impulse buys. There was, however, one particular treat which caught my attention: a raw buckwheat energy bar of some sort, notable mainly for the the combination of the words raw and buckwheat. I was, you see, previously unaware that the buckwheat groats I had stashed away at home were edible in their raw state. I'm hardly a raw foodist, but we Firestone folk tend to be curious and adventurous eaters, and I found myself inspired to replicate the buckwheat bars on my own.

Fortunately, homemade granola-type bars are one of those remarkably robust and endlessly variable creations which demand, rather than a proper recipe, only a very general technique and which, once you see how effortless and customizable they are, will become an indispensable addition to your culinary arsenal. Say, for instance, you want to whip up some raw buckwheat energy bars on the fly? Totally doable. Here's the rundown:

Basically, you're just getting a bunch of pebble-sized or smaller pieces of food to stick together with a sweet, sticky, syrupy concoction. For the dry ingredients, I went with roughly equal parts buckwheat, toasted oats, and sunflower seeds, and then some sesame seeds (about a quarter as much as the other dry ingredients). My syrup was about three parts honey, three parts molasses, two parts peanut butter, and one part neutral oil (vegetable or the like). These are very rough estimates. Then, simply combine the dry ingredients in a bowl and heat the wet ingredients to a gentle simmer in a saucepan. Once it's hot and mixed, pour over the dry ingredients, stir until there are no dry patches, and then spread out on a baking sheet or casserole dish, and refrigerate until cool! Easy peasy, fresh and breezy. 

But the beauty, again, is the flexibility. You just want to keep the ratio at about 3 parts dry to 1 part wet. I really like molasses, so I've used quite a bit of that, but anything in the greater sugar family should do it; honey, agave nectar, maple syrup, corn syrup, brown sugar (when combined with liquids), etc. You can also include pureed dates or prunes, or  more nut butters, to cut down on the sugar a bit. The dry ingredients are the real fun part. Just make sure that they're in tiny little pieces, and if you'd like, toast them a bit by cooking over medium heat in a dry pan until fragrant. Some things to try:

Nuts/seeds
peanuts, almonds, cashews, pecans, sunflower, pumpkin, flax seeds...

Dried fruit
apricot, cranberries, raisins, cherries, pear..

Rolled or flaked grains (Often available in bulk sections)
oat, barley, rye, quinoa...

Etc
chocolate chips, crystalized ginger, orange peel, cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves...use your imagination!

If, however, you're more of the "real recipe" type, here are some good looking ones to check out. I imagine these would make great snacks for anyone planning a nice long hike. Perhaps in some exotic locale? Hmmm....

Pathfinder Chef Challenge Spotlight: Patricia Zadony

Patricia is one of the many fantastic chefs we met at the Chicago Gourmet festival this year. Her life on the family farm was an early inspiration for attending culinary school, leading her to the President's List at Le Cordon Bleu and a successful career as a personal chef and volunteer with Common Threads, Chef Art Smith's culinary education charity for children. Her love for fresh and unique vegetables, not to mention travel and adventure, will certainly come in handy if she finds herself out there on the Inca Trail, whipping up amazing trail-ready dishes with fresh Peruvian produce! Best of luck, Patricia! To watch all of the competing chef videos, check out our You Tube page.

A Fresh Take on How We Eat

FRESH continues a trend in food films and literature, encouraging our culture to rethink how we eat. Quite a feat indeed. Relying less on shocking and depressing its audience and more on revealing a series of positive role models in our quest for redeeming local, biodiverse farms, FRESH is a celebration of community and a call to action. FRESH celebrates the farmers, thinkers and business people across America who are re-inventing our food system. Among several main characters, FRESH features urban farmer and activist, Will Allen, the recipient of MacArthur’s 2008 Genius Award; sustainable farmer and entrepreneur, Joel Salatin, made famous by Michael Pollan’s book, The Omnivore’s Dilemma; and supermarket owner, David Ball, challenging our Wal-Mart dominated economy. Check out the trailer here. We're looking forward to being inspired! Produced and Directed by: Ana Sofia Joanes. Check here for a screening near you.

Pathfinder Chef Challenge Spotlight: Tim Kirker

Though the French were the fourth largest group of immigrants to Peru (thanks wikipedia!), and both French and Peruvian cuisine are among the world's best, I’m not sure if French-Peruvian cuisine has really taken hold internationally. But depending on how thing shape up for Tim Kirker, he could end up as the ambassador of a new culinary movement. The head chef of Bistro Zinc on State Street in Chicago’s beautiful Near North Side, Kirker is a master of traditional French cuisine the likes of croque monsieur, escargot, profiteroles, and assiette de charcuterie. But, no stranger to the outdoors, he's also "done quite a bit of hiking and biking cooking in the outback," not to mention preparing straight-from-the-river fish over an open campfire in Alaska. With those kind of Top Chef meets Man vs Wild credentials, can the Brandade Stuffed Rocoto Pepper, or Ceviche Confit be far off? Check out all the great chef videos at our YouTube page.

If you’d like a chance to perfect your own Peruvian hybrid cuisine, make a 60-second of yourself showing why you should be our guest chef, and go here to upload it and learn more about the contest! And if you're not a chef, you can enter to be the lucky Pathfinder for which our winning chef will be whipping up those exquisite meals! Enter here.

Sending off Summer in Style

As the light fades on September and the leaves begin to show their first signs of color, we should all take a little time to pause, reflect, and bask in the summer’s many wonders while we still can. Although I suppose “many wonders,” is just my way of saying “many strawberries.” And then, in that case, “bask in” must just mean eat. I guess what I’m getting at is that time is running out to enjoy those gorgeous glowing red orbs of sweet juicy succulence and that this is our last chance to eat as many as we possibly can before they disappear from our collective gardens and farm stands only to be curiously replaced by rows of the bland Stepford Strawberries which the fall and winter meekly try to pass off as the real deal. And since we’re doing this all in the name of summer, and we’ve made clear our favorite way to temper the summer’s accompanying heat, might I suggest enjoying these precious remaining berries atop a bed of vanilla ice cream? And being the classy folks we are here at Firestone, the celebrants of joie de vivre and revelers in all of life’s finest, we’re naturally interested in transforming a combo as classically elegant as berries ‘n’ cream into something truly majestic. My preferred addition? A light drizzle of reduced balsamic. While spinach salad may be the venue where strawberries and vinegar were first introduced, a cool scoop of vanilla ice cream turns out to be an unexpectedly perfect setting for the budding romance between these two sweetly acidic delights. It’s a fitting send-off to the sunniest of seasons, and it couldn’t be much easier. Just simmer some balsamic vinegar for fifteen minutes or so and let it cool. Then, chop some berries, scoop some ‘scream, and assemble it all into a sophisticated sundae. If you’re thinking, “Wait. This is crazy. Balsamic vinegar? In a dessert? Now I’ve heard everything.” then perhaps some of the recipes below (presumably by actual chefs, with degrees and stuff) will convince you.

(If, however, you are an actual chef, totally unimpressed, thinking this is amateur hour, and that you could whip up a way classier dessert while, oh I don’t know, hiking the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu, well then, frankly, we’d like very much to take you up on that. Check out the contest here and show us what you (and your signature dishes) are made of. )

The Tradish
The Marinater
The Everything at Once

And come to think of it, it would be doing summer a disservice if we didn't accompany this fine dessert with a nice glass of wine. Might we suggest a Firestone?