Author Archives: Fignatius

25 February 2010
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Dizzarts

Angel Food Cake


Angel Food Cake

As far as sweets are concerned, I can usually take them or leave them.  I understand the appeal of pastries, in all their myriad forms, but I just prefer something salty over something sweet most of the time.  If there is a cheese plate offered for dessert, I always opt for that over gooey chocolate cake or even a perfect pear tart; my dear friend Michael made me appreciate cheese as an end to a meal long ago, and I can’t thank him enough for that pearl of wisdom – there is something so satisfying about it.

That said, there is one confection that is my absolute downfall: Angel Food Cake.  It probably started with my mum, who always made a special cake for our brithdays when we were little.  From my first birthday, there is a hilarious sequence of photos of me (“bald as a billiard ball,” as mum would say) in my high chair with a giant chocolate cake in front of me; I taste the frosting, show off a mostly tooth-less grin, plant my face into the cake, and then emerge with my whole face covered in frosting.  My parents always did a lot to make my birthday very special, and that always included a cake.

One year, mum found a recipe for Stuffed Angel Food Cake, which basically halted the need to look for another birthday cake recipe ever again.  It was your basic homemade Angel Food Cake (which I find are always much bigger than the store-bought kind) filled with sweetened whipped cream flavored with cocoa powder.  It was like heaven to me as a young birthday boy.  I would dig in for piece after piece of that cake, spacing out my portions over a two-day span; with much sadness, I would savor the last piece and wait until the next year for my next fix.  Though it was easy and  relatively cheap to make, the fact that I only had that cake on my birthday made it very special.

It has been years since I had Angel Food Cake of any kind (probably close to a decade) and something prompted me recently to make it again.  Everything about it is brilliant: the flavor, the texture, the extreme whiteness of the interior.  Sure, this cake takes a little more effort than opening a box and mixing together, but it is absolutely worth it. I used the Joy of Cooking recipe for this one, and made no alterations.  In future postings, I plan to switch up the flavorings and see how we might experiment with the sugar level (I don’t think it needs to be that sweet).  Also, I am pretty sure I’ll be posting the birthday version this June.  Stay tuned!

20 February 2010
24 Comments
Cocktails

Cocktail Hour: The Fig


The Fig

Anyone who knows me knows that I love a good cocktail. The problem I find with most “modern” cocktails is that they are just too cloying, too over worked, and have far too many ingredients. I appreciate what mixologists are doing to create new and exciting drinks, but the vast majority of them fall short. I guess, in some respects, it is the same idea that my boss has tried to convey to me when I am trying to come up with new ideas for projects: put everything out there, even the ideas you know are bad, because you have to get it all out to get to the good stuff. I guess you have to come up with a lot of crappy cocktails before you create a really good one.

Lately, I have taken note that the bartenders at Hearty, here in Chicago, are doing an exceptional job of coming up with excellent novel drinks, as well as great revamps of old favorites. Just last night, I had their redux of the Rob Roy, with strong hints of orange that brought a great freshness to a drink that can sometimes be too old-fashioned.  My companion really liked their ginger-infused take on the Negroni.

Throughout my travels, I’ve visited a lot of bars with a lot of friends, and a few exceptional cocktails have stood out in my mind. One, however, has been stuck in my head for years, and I had it with my very dear friend Jennifer at the erstwhile Natasha’s in Portland, Maine. They had a clever cocktail menu devoted to single fruits, including pear, orange, and cranberry. I gravitate to anything fig-based, partly because I really like the flavor, and partly because it is my namesake. The Fig cocktail at Natasha’s was simply one of the best drinks I’ve ever had and, though it took me a long time to attempt to recreate it, I am very glad I did. Bear in mind that it takes some time to make fig-infused vodka, so you have to think ahead for this one.

Fill about 1/3 of a mason jar with dried black Mission figs that you’ve cut in half (about 9); fill jar with vodka and cover. Leave at room temperature for at least a week, shaking the jar to distribute the flavor every couple of days. The vodka will take on a dark amber color and end up looking like whiskey. You can probably leave the jar indefinitely, since the alcohol acts as a preservative, but I think you’ll find the flavor a little to tempting to just let it sit there.

Once your vodka is ready, put about a cup of cubed ice into a cocktail shaker and fill with fig vodka to cover. Add one of the figs from the jar to the shaker for each drink you are making. Add a few generous splashes of tawny port wine and a small squeeze of lemon, if you have a wedge available. Shake until the shaker is too cold to hold and strain into cocktail or coupe glasses. Float dry sparkling wine across the top of each glass and enjoy. It may be the perfect drink. I may be partial.

18 February 2010
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Dinner, Pasta

My Bolognese


My Bolognese

I will admit that the first time I ever had something called Spaghetti Bolognese, I had no idea what I was ordering.  It was my first time in Europe and I was with a person who, at the time, was almost a complete stranger, who is now my very dear friend Melissa.  Both of us were jet-lagged and on our first assignment in what would be our home country for the next 10+ months: the UK.  We were charged by our year-abroad advisor, Professor Wendy Moffat, to drop off our bags at our rooming house and head straight to a neighborhood of London that was randomly assigned to us, where we would make an attempt to observe and record the essence of that neighborhood.  Melissa and I headed to Camden Town, exhausted and hungry.  At the time, Camden was the hotbed of counterculture in London, but had its own brand of gentrification in place, as well.  Hence, we stumbled into a hole-in-the-wall cafe that served what looked to be pretty decent Italian food.  For my first meal in the country, I wasn’t ready for traditional British fare, so I figured Italian would be a good, safe bet.

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