Pistacia Vera

I may be a little bit biased because I work in/adore German Village, but the little bakery that goes by the name Pistacia Vera is, in my humble opinion, one of Columbus' shining gems.
Upon walking inside, an impeccable display of sweets and treats greets you, complete with smiling sales associates behind it ready to help you pick something out: macarons in classic and unusual flavor combinations, chocolate bombes (large and small!), cakes, tortes, the list goes on. These are all made on premises and the detailed handiwork alone impresses me. As your eye wanders, a wooden block of MORE baked goods awaits. This is my favorite part: croissants (classic, rye, ham and cheese) are the best that I've ever had; brioche buns glistening with marmalade; all kinds of flaky, crusty doughs twisted and shaped by skills hands to form a dazzling variety of breakfast-y items. Pistacia Vera has so many options to choose from, and I've visited before to grab a sublimely perfect croissant before work, but on one recent occasion I took my lovely cousins for breakfast and we tried out three of their hot "brunch" menu items.

Tomato Provencal Baked Eggs ($11)

Perfectly cooked eggs, delightfully runny yolk, just-set whites, tomato fondue adding tang, a classic croissant on the side to dip into the yolk and then into this incredible berry-chambord preserves. This was my breakfast, and I was beyond satisfied.

Croque Monsiuer ($12)

Crispy house-baked brioche with cottage ham, emmentaler cheese, and mornay sauce. Served with a spring greens salad.

Mushroom Quiche ($12)

House-made crust filled with a creamy mix of mushrooms and cheeses. Served with a spring greens salad.

Overall, I was pretty impressed with these hot dishes. They were masterfully prepared and artfully plated. I always love going into Pistacia Vera, and this time was no different. Next time you're around German Village, swing by and tell them Celina from Winans sent you! 

Pistacia Vera

541 S. Third Street

Columbus, OH 43215

http://www.pistaciavera.com

Licorice Jelly Beans

Little rounded shining in a dull sort of way black as night jelly beans.

They stick to my molars at 10:16 at night, and my tongue seeks out the extra sticky bits on my canines after I swallow. Corn syrup sweetness and false licorice linger in the spaces between my taste buds and I chew thoughtfully on a few more, wondering why I am incapable of writing about anything but tiny, unimportant things like the creases forming between my eyebrows and spiders in the corners of my room where the walls greet each other in a fold of darkness and my relentless pursuit of pain and little rounded shining in a dull sort of way black as night jelly beans.

The Best Meal I've Ever Eaten

     I have had many amazing meals, but I have to say that the best one occurred while visiting my family in Syria. I was nine years old and it was our last day there; in fact, we had to leave for our flight in a matter of hours. But I was really, really hungry! So I told my grandma and she set about making me some chicken, rice and potato soup.           It sounds pretty plain and simple, but she made it something special. 
     She cobbled together this huge pot of soup and I sat down at the empty table with a bowl and the entire pot of soup beside it, and she ladled a serving into my bowl. And I slurped up every drop. She poured me another bowl, and I ate that one too. She kept filling my bowl until the ENTIRE pot of soup was gone. It must have been at least a gallon. My stomach felt like it was stretched as taut as a birthday balloon, and I was beyond satisfied.  As I left the table, treading sleepy slow steps with heavy-lidded eyes, I could feel that light but deeply flavorful broth sloshing around in my tummy. We left and I slept for hours on the plane.
     Thinking back on it now, she might have been deliberately trying to fill me up as much as she could. That soup was a symbol of her love and the meal itself represents her generosity. I may have eaten at some of Columbus' highly rated restaurants, and tried many adventurous dishes and creative flavor profiles, but that soup is without a doubt the best meal I have ever had. I was feasting on love, and I could have as much as I wanted. In fact, I could have all of it! And I did! I sat at the table ravenous and I left the table rounder, happier, fuller. Who could ask for more?

Best Hot Cocoa

I'm absolutely positive that I'm not the first person to think this up. But that fact did not hinder me from tasting this new hot cocoa concoction and falling in love. I don't have a picture, because I drank it too quickly, but here's how it went.

Step 1: Throw a teaspoon or so of cocoa powder (UNSWEETENED) into a mug.
Step 2: Add a few dribbles of honey.
Step 3: Add a splash of milk, stir, and microwave for thirty seconds.
Step 4: Stir, add the rest of the milk, microwave for a minute.
Step 5: Enjoy a really delicious hot chocolate beverage that isn't cloyingly sweet, and isn't bad for you either if you use lowfat or skim milk!

I don't think I will ever use ready mix hot cocoa, not even for the mini marshmallows. This hot cocoa tastes much richer, more deep, earthy chocolate flavor (which is even greater if you use a high quality baker's cocoa) and none of the saccharine additive flavor of store bought mix.
I know it's summer, but summer evenings get nice and cool. My room is air-conditioned. And even if it was two in the afternoon on a ninety degree day and I was going to sit outside, I would probably still enjoy this drink.
Okay, I am enjoying it more in my brisk sixty-five degree room. But I digress.

Chocolatey in Columbus,
Celina.

Leftover Steak (Pot Pie)

The summer brings with it the grilling season. And grilling season brings with it an affinity for some yummy, charred on the outside-juicy on the inside steaks. But if your family is anything like my family, one person (the grill master) overestimates everybody else's appetite for steak and we end up with lots and lots of grilled steak leftovers. Try as you may, leftover steak just isn't as good as a steak straight off the grill. So as I peered into my fridge the other day and saw the big container of cold steak sitting there, I decided we really needed to use this up. And being the poor, lazy college kid that I am, I didn't want to get any extra ingredients from the store. So I came up with a use for whatever we had lying around: steak pot pie.

Ingredients:
-some leftover steaks (preferably not super well done, or they'll get really really tough when you cook them a second time)
-frozen (or fresh!) veggies. I used peas, corn, and green beans.
-a jar of beef gravy
-some sort of crust. I used crescent rolls.
Method:
Basically, I just chopped up the steaks while they were cold and trimmed off any fat or gristle. Then I thawed the veggies, mixed the steak, veg, and gravy together in a pot to warm up. Finally, I threw the mixture into a pot pie baking dish, unrolled the crescent rolls on top, and garnished with a few sprigs of fresh thyme in an attempt to class it up. Bake at 375 F for about 18 minutes, or until the crust is browned. I don't suggest covering it with foil afterwards, it takes away the crispiness of the crust.

It turned out pretty good! It definitely wasn't the most creative, inventive, or amazing dish I've ever made. But when you're scrunched for time and you've gotta use up some things, it's nice to be able to come up with something homey and comforting.

Dessert was a fruit salad with whatever fruits we had (Bosc pears, apples, cantaloupe, and grapes) with some Parmeggiano and aged goat cheese (I used a Romanian kind called Kashkaval) to top. Fruit and cheese are a match made in heaven.

Pro Tip: soak sliced apples in a solution of a couple splashes of lemon juice+cold water. Keeps them from browning without making them too acidic.

Cheese-Stuffed Apricots

Slightly underripe apricots stuffed with fresh Spanish cheese, broiled, topped with thyme and drizzled with honey.

soft, soft flesh, acidic and relying on honey for sweetness, plays with mild, slightly salty cheese. Thyme perched on top, king of the dish, infuses every morsel.

Olive Oil, Egg, Toast, Thyme

There is something distinctly unique about a simple perfectly cooked egg. I'm talking viscous golden-orange yolk reminiscent of a dripping August sun; firm but yielding, maybe even crispy, whites, pure as snow set against a backdrop of hot olive oil and warm toast, perfumed with fresh flowering thyme.

At least, that's how I enjoyed my egg today. Just one (one is perfect) cooked in a generous glug of olive oil (not extra virgin, see note), flipped over after two minutes to achieve that delicate white blanket that preserves the soft, soft yolk; then laid over a slice of toasted potato bread and decorated with freshest thyme sprigs from the garden, tops blooming with tiny, teasing mauve flowers. 

I break the yolk and admire the perfection of this egg that I have cooked, my egg, just for me. I take a bite and burn the roof of my mouth just a bit on the layer of still-hot oil, but no matter! This egg is worth it. I take another bite strategically to catch the river of molten gold before it hits the plate. The thyme is like a fresh breeze in my mouth, chasing the rich yolk and dainty white; woodsy, lemony, tasting the freshest color of green. In no time, all I have left on my plate are a few drops of sunshine that were too quick for me. Shamelessly, I drag a greedy finger across and collect them, savoring the satisfaction.

(Note: Extra virgin olive oil is super nice to use, but not the best for cooking, and especially not for cooking with high heat. It is delicate and has a low smoking point, so it can burn quite easily. For a flavorful oil that you can heat, use regular olive oil. It's usually marked as "pure" or "light" olive oil. This does not mean it's less fatty than other olive oils, it's just lighter in color because it's not the first press. Either way, olive oil is really really good for you, so try it instead of butter when frying eggs, and in salad instead of ranch. )