A Religious Experience - Part Fourteen

It was actually a case of mistaken identity that led us to South Lawndale, a part of the city I most certainly wouldn't have ever visited otherwise, in pursuit of the Greater Zion Hill Missionary Baptist Church. When I had been scoping out the "Sacred Spaces" section on the Open House Chicago website and planning our day, I saw a thumbnail photo of the church and mistook it for a half-remembered building I'd spotted in Chicago Churches and Synagogues: An Architectural Pilgrimage, my version of the Bible when it comes to ecclesiastic architecture in Chicago. Both buildings had impressive wooden ceilings, and though I thought I remembered the church being closer to the United Center, I thought perhaps I had just recalled incorrectly, and put Greater Zion Hill on our itinerary. 

Greater Zion Hill Missionary Baptist Church
2255 S. Millard Ave.
Chicago, IL

Originally built in 1891, the Greater Zion Hill Missionary Baptist Church was originally known as the Fowler Methodist Church. Charles Henry Fowler was a Methodist pastor who was active in Chicago during the 1860s and 1870s, and a former president of Northwestern University before he was elected a bishop of his church, necessitating a move to California. Following the Great Chicago Fire of 1871, Fowler worked to raise funds throughout the East in order to rebuild Chicago's churches and provide aid to its religious communities.

South Lawndale was established by refugees of the Great Fire, and attracted mainly residents of German and Czech extraction. Over time, the neighborhood changed demographics several times, as they are wont to do in Chicago, and today, South Lawndale is home to a mostly Hispanic population. This evolution was evidenced at Greater Zion Hill by the presence of bilingual signage at every turn.

The exterior of the church is rendered in the Richardsonian Romanesque style that was so popular in Chicago following the construction of architect Henry Hobson Richardson's home for International Harvester magnate, John J. Glessner, in 1886. Though some of the windows could use repair and restoration, the building is in remarkably good condition, considering all the changes its seen in the past century, as well as the economic stagnation of the neighborhood it calls home. 

As we walked in, it was clear that we were not in the church that I remembered seeing in my book, despite the presence of the glorious wooden ceiling. In fact, the ceiling felt a little out of place for the rest of the sanctuary, which was quite plain, but had a homey, lived-in quality that has been lacking in some of the religious spaces I've visited as part of "A Religious Experience." True, it was a little threadbare, but nothing near the devastation at Agudas Achim, or even the level of creeping decay visible at the Second Presbyterian Church or Frank Lloyd Wright's Unity Temple in Oak Park. Even if the building wasn't especially notable, it was nice to see that it was so well-loved.

It turns out that the church I had confused it with was the 1885 Church of the Epiphany, which boasts a Richardsonian Romanesque exterior as well as an ornate, dark wood ceiling. I was right, it is located at 201 South Ashland, much closer to the United Center, but it's going to have to remain on my to-do list for now. Perhaps I'll manage to get there some time in 2013...

You Gotta Roll With It...

Overall, I am really very thankful to be gainfully employed once more. I was incredibly fortunate to be without a job for such a short period of time, and I like my new situation. I am learning all kinds of skills that will serve me well in the long-run, plus I work with great people who are positive and create a healthy work environment. That said, I am going through a bit of a stressful patch. I am juggling multiple projects, nearly all of them are in a highly active phase, and deadlines are flying at me at an alarmingly fast rate.

This weekend, I've been putting in extra hours from home trying to make some headway on a particularly large project with a looming deadline, and as a result, I felt a bit of a need to treat myself for my efforts. Baking has long been a source of stress-relief for me, and chocolate has always been a handy emotional salve for me, so I turned to my Pinterest board in search of a chocolate-focused baking project I could tackle to make myself feel better.

Inspiration came in the form of a chocolate-swirled breakfast roll from Smitten Kitchen, based on the chocolate babka that she had eaten growing up. Though babka is associated with Eastern European Jewish communities, and I was raised in a predominately Jewish suburb, babka was never really a part of my childhood. Still the concept was appealing -- rich, buttery, brioche-style yeast dough, swirled with sweet chocolate and cinnamon streusel. I love cinnamon buns, I love chocolate, and l love chocolate and cinnamon together, so the idea of combining all these elements and getting to call them breakfast was an undeniably attractive prospect.

The recipe turned out to be a bit more labor-intensive than I probably should have tried to attempt during a weekend when I was already so busy, but attending to the dough throughout its various stages also provided a welcome distraction. Though our apartment is generally on the chilly side during the coder months of the year (and a nightmare to air-condition sufficiently in the summer), the yeast did its job without incident.

As instructed, I rolled out the dough as thinly as possible to allow for maximum chocolate dispersion, but I do think that this strategy resulting in blurring the distinct striations between dough and filling that create a characteristic swirled bun. Chocolate was definitely the dominant flavor in the rolls, eclipsing the cinnamon, though I didn't much mind.

Overall, these babka-inspired buns were a decadent breakfast indulgence, and while I don't think they would be appropriate for regular consumption, from both a caloric and effort-expenditure perspective, I did enjoy the process of making them, and even more the chance to eat them when I was done.

Read My Mind...

Justin has been working a lot of weekends lately, filling in at the public library where he used to work before he got his full-time job, and when he heads up to the burbs for the day, he takes the car with him. As a result, I've been spending a lot of time around the house these last several Saturdays and that means one thing: I've been watching a lot of cooking shows on PBS. As I've mentioned in the past, watching the Saturday cooking show line-up on WTTW is something of a habit of mine, and since the recent debut of their new show The Mind of a Chef, my interest is even greater.

I started watching the program solely based on the fact that Anthony Bourdain narrates it (though he very seldom appears in the flesh), and I've been a huge fan of his shows and writings for years. Being both a foodie and a former historian,  I found that I really enjoyed The Mind of a Chef's fusion of food theory, ingredient history, and travel features. Plus, there was something very charming about the star, Chef David Chang's giddy enthusiasm for his craft.

Naturally, I found that the segments that inspired me the most were those featuring Chang's pastry chef, Christina Tosi, whom I watched week after week taking innovative approaches to dessert, until I finally couldn't take any more. I had Justin pick up a copy from her book from the library while he was there, and I started eagerly flipping through the pages of Momofuku Milk Bar.

By reading the book, it is easy to see that it was written by a pastry chef and not a cookbook author writing for the average home chef. Momofuku Milk Bar is structured around the concept of "mother recipes" which you make and then transform into other desserts by adding more components. This approach makes total sense if you are working in a commercial kitchen, where you can make a huge batch of say, liquid cheesecake filling, and then save time by turning it into ice cream, pie filling, cake filling, et cetera.

If you are a home cook, however, it is a little daunting to read a recipe for a cake, for example, that includes five or six nested recipes within it. Tosi's thought processes are interesting, to be sure, and the desserts look delicious, but very few of them are practical, especially because they also tend to call for ingredients that are either expensive to purchase in small, retail-size quantities instead of wholesale, or simply because there is little else the average home cook could do with them.

As you might have guessed, I still didn't let that stop me. I was determined to try at least one recipe from Tosi's book, even if it meant dedicating a significant amount of time to sourcing ingredients. I selected one of the more simple recipes in the book, for corn cookies, which I had watched her make on The Mind of a Chef, and then subsequently turn into a pie crust. Though corn may sound unorthodox at first in a dessert, the Italians have been puttin polenta in their cookies for ages, and cornbread (at least in the North), can have a significant sweet component, so I was willing to give it a chance.

I ended up dedicating the better part of an afternoon to locating the two specialty ingredients in the recipe - corn flour and freeze-dried corn, and ended up traveling to three different stores. I really thought I'd find the corn products at Whole Foods, so I went there first, but I was surprised to find neither. I did, however, find the Plugra brand imported butter recommended by Tosi, and though I was originally planning on just using the unsalted butter I had on hand, I opted to buy the expensive Plugra just to justify my trip to Whole Foods.

Next, I tried Jewel, a local mega-mart, thinking I might find the freeze-dried corn there, because I remembered that they once carried a line of freeze-dried fruit and veggies there for snacking and salad-topping, but discovered they no longer carried the brand. I did, however, stop in the organic aisle, where I was shocked to see corn flour on the shelf, where Whole Foods had failed to stock it.

I was at a loss, however, on the freeze-dried corn, so I Googled it, figuring I'd have to order some online. After all, in Tosi's own words, "Amazon is your friend." However, one of the top hits was for The Spice House, a spice and specialty food shop, which just happens to have a brick-and-mortar store in Evanston, the closest suburb to my house. I called ahead before driving there just to confirm that they had it in the store, and soon, I was in business.

After locating everything I needed, the hard part was over. Though grinding the freeze-dried corn down to a fine powder in the food processor was an extra step not required by most cookie recipes, the cookies were actually fairly straight-forward. I made sure to follow all of Tosi's instructions to the letter, even when I thought they were borderline ridiculous, which included creaming my butter and sugar together for nearly ten minutes before adding the dry ingredients. Tosi claims that this step is critical and really does make a difference, so I indulged her, even though I don't think I've ever creamed for that long before in my entire cookie baking career.

I also dutifully scooped out the dough in the exact size that Tosi specified, and refrigerated the prepared dough overnight to ensure perfect results. Her recipe called for 2 3/4 ounce cookies, which may seem large, but is only a scant 1/8 ounce larger than my beloved chocolate chip cookie recipe, so I was ready to get on board with her there. It does produce big cookies, but they are large enough that you feel satisfied eating just one, and don't end up justifying several small cookies to yourself instead.

In the end, the cookies turned out magnificently. They were golden yellow in color, almost like the unusual saffron snickerdoodles I made last year, but unlike those, their flavor was not nearly as polarizing. The corn flavor is subtle; if you didn't know what it was, you might not be able to identify it. It just adds a lovely depth of flavor and complexity to a cookie that is delightfully crisp on the outside and chewy in the center -- just the way I like them. They were also fantastically buttery. Plugra has only 2% more butterfat and less water compared to standard American butter, but Tosi was right again, that 2% makes a difference!

Justin even went so far as to procliam them a new favorite, or at least certainly in the pantheon of his favorite cookie recipes that I have made while we've been together. As for me, I'm relieved that they turned out so well, after chasing down all the ingredients. Plus, I will be happy to use up the leftovers to repeat this recipe in the future.

Now that Tosi has proven herself to me, I foresee myself doing more specialty shopping in the future, as the rest of the cookies in Momofuku Milk Bar are looking pretty good right about now...

Corn Cookies

adapted from Momofuku Milk Bar

225 g unsalted butter, at room temperature (preferably Plugra)

300 g sugar

1 egg

225 g flour

45 g corn flour

65 g freeze-dried corn, ground into powder

3 g baking powder

1.5 g baking soda

6 g kosher salt

1. Combine the butter and sugar in the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment and cream together on medium-high for 2-3 minutes. Scrape down the sides of the bowl add the egg, and beat for 7-8 minutes more.

2. Reduce the mixer speed to low and add the flour, corn flour, corn powder, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. Mix until the dough just comes together, no longer than 1 minute. Scrape down the sides of the bowl.

3. Using a 2 3/4 oz. ice cream scoop, or 1/3 cup measure, portion out the dough onto a parchment-lined sheet pan. Pat the tops of the cookie dough domes flat. Wrap the sheet pan tightly in plastic wrap and refrigerate for at least 1 hour, or up to 1 week. Do not bake your cookies from room temperature -- they will not bake properly.

4. Preheat the oven to 350.

5. Arrange the chilled dough a minimum of 4 inches apart on parchment or Silpat-lined sheet pans. Bake for 18 minutes. The cookies will puff, crackle, and spread. After 18 minutes, they should be faintly browned on the edges yet still bright yellow in the center; give them an extra minute if not.

6. Cool the cookies completely on the sheet pans before transferring to a plate or airtight container for storage. At room temperature, the cookies will keep fresh for 5 days; in the freezer, they will keep for 1 month.

Bowling for Soup...

Remember back when I said we'd been having a mild winter, and how we had broken a record for lack of snowfall? Well, here we are in March now, and winter is now in full swing. In the last month, we've had enough snow that we are within a couple inches of the 30-inch average for Chicago for any given winter season. We still got all our snow, it just came late, and all at once!

In fact, today we are experiencing yet another bout of snow, and the forecasts are predicting it will be the biggest storm of the season. Flights were cancelled, schools were closed, and employers sent their staff home early. Actually, Justin's office closed early, but my intrepid boss was determined to achieve maximum productivity for the day, so we were not released ahead of schedule.

Since he was home so much earlier, Justin got a head start on dinner, so that I could come in from the cold and have a piping hot bowl of soup waiting for me. I had planned for a Spanish lentil soup for this evening, from a recipe I spotted in the most recent issue of Cook's Illustrated. Normally, I don't attempt to make a recipe so soon after I see it in that particular publication, either because it is too labor intensive or it calls for an ingredient that is too hard to find. In fact, this little video is probably the most accurate description I've ever seen of Cook's Illustrated:

However, this particular dish seemed so manageable, I thought it could even be tackled on a work night. French lentils can be hard to find, but I actually had a surplus in my pantry, after inadvertently buying too many at Whole Foods, thinking I was running low when I was actually fully-stocked. And although Spanish chorizo is surprisingly difficult to find in Chicago, despite its trendiness, I remembered seeing it at Publican Quality Meats during one of my previous visits, so entering this soup into our meal plan would give me an excuse to treat myself to lunch. It seemed like a win-win.

Justin didn't seem to have any trouble with the recipe, other than that the grease from the chorizo created a somewhat unfortunate oil slick on top of the broth. We were also short a carrot, but it didn't seem to affect the taste noticeably.

In fact, the soup turned out very well indeed. It was spicier than I was expecting, which I can probably attribute to either the PQM chorizo, or the smoked paprika I was able to find at the grocery store, which didn't state it's strength on the bottle. Either way, the kick was an unanticipated bonus.

I actually think I liked this lentil soup more than the one we made back in January, and I though that one had become my new go- to recipe at the time. Perhaps my enjoyment of this soup is a testament to the importance of high quality ingredients, after all, that chorizo set me back about $9 per pound, and the recipe called for a pound and a half worth. I usually pay less than a third of that price for Italian sausage at the local mega-mart, but it has never made such a memorable impact on a dish I've made either.

Due to the expense, I'm not sure this dish will become a standard in our home, even though it was simple and relatively quick to make. I'll definitely keep in mind for a special occasion, however, or if we are entertaining guests for dinner. Unfortunately, I'm not going to be able to share this recipe with you because Cook's Illustrated has a vigorous legal team out there protecting their intellectual property. If you are interested in trying this one at home, you'll have to run out to the nearest newsstand and buy yourself a hard copy while they are still on shelves...

Getting Sloppy...

As I have gotten older, I find that I have become less and less pessimistic. I realize that most people tend to become more cynical with age, but where, as my mantra once was, "I try not to expect too much so I won't end up disappointed," nowadays I am more inclined to say, "Everything will work out just fine." I'm not sure how this happened, other than an overall improvement in mood that has come with the end of puberty and the balancing out of my hormones that came with it, but the change has made me a happier person in general.

This sense of hope that I have developed, however, does occasionally get me in trouble. For example, I recently purged my magazine rack of nearly a year's worth of Bon Appétits and Food and Wines by going through all of them and pinning the interesting recipes to my savory and sweet recipe boards on Pinterest. While I was filing all my inspiration recipes for later, I came across one from chef Ming Tsai, for Asian Sloppy Joe Sliders. I have been watching Ming on television since he was on the Food Network with East Meets West back in the 1990s, and I continue to watch him on Simply Ming on PBS, and yet I couldn't remember ever trying one of his recipes. It seemed like the right thing to do.

Nevermind the fact that I hate sloppy joes. As the name suggests, they are messy and hard to eat, which has always bugged me, but I've always attributed my disdain to the fact that sloppy joe sauce reminds me of barbeque sauce, and I can't stand that either. However, as an adult, my palate has expanded since childhood, and I hoped that this Asian-inspired sauce would be the thing to change my mind about sloppy joes and open my eyes to a new genre of sandwiches.

The ingredients seemed promising: garlic, ginger, sriracha, hoisin sauce, ground pork and ground turkey -- all things that I enjoy in other recipes. Except that as I was cooking it, and smelling it, all I could think about was, "I wish I were making those bahn mi burgers with this ground pork instead, because this looks gross." I'm not even sure what my hang-up is, because I am fine with ground meat in other scenarios, such as in spaghetti sauce, or tacos. As I spooned the filling onto my sandwich, my stomach turned. 

All things considered, the sandwiches weren't terrible; in fact, Justin liked them. The meat tasted good, but as the bun disintegrated and the meat started falling all over my plate, I thought back to all those sloppy joes I've eaten in my life, and I just could get past my disdain. Though I'd had high hopes that I could bring myself to enjoy sloppy joes by changing the flavor profile, it just wasn't going to happen for me. 

If sloppy joes are your thing, then by all means, go for it with this recipe. As long as you enjoy Asian flavors, you'll probably enjoy this unique twist. As for us, it's a good thing Justin liked these sandwiches, because he'll be polishing off the leftovers all on his own.

Asian Sloppy Joes

adapted from Ming Tsai

2 tablespoons canola oil
2 medium red onions, finely chopped
1 cup finely chopped celery
3 tablespoons sriracha
2 1/2 tablespoons minced garlic
1 tablespoon minced fresh ginger
Kosher salt
Freshly ground pepper
1 pound ground turkey
1 pound ground pork
1 cup hoisin sauce
1 cup drained canned diced tomatoes
1/4 cup fresh lime juice
hamburger buns
Shredded iceberg lettuce and spicy pickles (optional), for serving

1. In a large, deep skillet, heat the canola oil until shimmering. Add the onions, celery, sriracha, garlic, ginger and a generous pinch each of salt and pepper and cook over moderate heat, stirring occasionally, until the vegetables are softened, about 8 minutes. Add the ground chicken and pork and cook, stirring occasionally to break up the meat, until no pink remains, about 5 minutes. Stir in the hoisin, tomatoes and lime juice and bring to a boil. Simmer over moderately low heat, stirring occasionally, until thickened, about 20 minutes. Season with salt and pepper.

2. Spoon the sloppy joe filling onto the bottom half of each bun. Top with shredded lettuce and pickles and serve.

Variety Is The Spice Of Life...

When I interviewed for my job, the CEO explained to me that his work philosophy runs something like: "If it ain't broke, break it, enjoy the mess you've made, then put things back together in the most cost-effective and efficient manner possible." When he asked me if I could get on board with that, I said yes, and gave an example in the form of my approach to cooking. Even if I have an amazing recipe for a given dish (I believe I used brownies in my response, because it was the first thing to pop into my head, even though I've never had a brownie recipe that I was really satisfied with), I am always willing to try a different recipe, because there might be a new tip, trick, technique, or ingredient that will make my food that much better. I never rest on my laurels.

Needless to say, I got the job, and I continue to refuse to leave well-enough alone in my kitchen as well. Just last night, I tested a new stir-fry recipe, despite the fact that I have an incredible recipe for a beef and snow pea stir-fry that I have happily made over and over since we discovered it last year. Good as that one was, this one called for different vegetables, and I thought it might make for a nice change of pace.

Though it featured Brussels sprouts, which are far from being one of Justin's favorites, the dish also called for chiles and carrots, which I thought might appeal to him, in light of the fact that one of his main criticisms of our existing stir-fry routine is that it would be improved by the addition of more vegetables. I wasn't crazy about the thought of chiles, even though I don't mind spicy food all that much, but I figured I could always pick them out.

In terms of effort, I think this recipe was actually slightly less work despite the need to meticulously chop more veggies since it did not require the pan-frying of any noodles. That being said, those crispy, golden brown and delicious noodles are worth every extra moment of work and make our usual stir-fry the treat that it is. This one felt dull by comparison.

Plus, I did not care for the sauce in this new version. This version features rice vinegar, which was a bit too tart my palate. Each bite did not leave me craving the next, but rather indifferent to it. I had to compel myself to finish my plate so I wouldn't be hungry again later.

Really, the best part of the meal were the Brussels sprouts, and I can think of any number of ways I would rather eat those. For now, we will most definitely be sticking with our tried-and-true stir-fry favorite, but at least I can rest assured that it is the top recipe out there. There is no room for mediocre dishes in my repertoire.

Brussels Sprout and Steak Stir-Fry

adapted from Bon Appétit

3 tablespoons oyster sauce

3 tablespoons soy sauce

2 tablespoons unseasoned rice vinegar

4 tablespoons vegetable oil, divided

1 pound Brussels sprouts, halved

8 oz. flank or skirt steak, thinly sliced against the grain

Kosher salt

4 scallions, whites chopped, greens sliced

3 garlic cloves, sliced

2 tablespoons chopped peeled ginger

2 medium carrots, peeled, thinly sliced on a diagonal

1 Fresno chile or jalapeño, sliced into rings

Steamed rice (for serving)

Whisk oyster sauce, soy sauce, vinegar, and 1/4 cup water in a small bowl; set sauce aside.

Heat 2 tablespoons oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add brussels sprouts and cook, tossing occasionally, until golden brown, about 4 minutes. Cover and cook until crisp-tender, about 3 minutes longer. Transfer to a plate; wipe out skillet.

Season steak with salt. Heat 1 tablespoon oil in same skillet over high heat until just beginning to smoke. Add steak in a single layer; cook until browned, about 3 minutes. Turn and cook until nearly cooked through, about 30 seconds. Add to brussels sprouts.

Heat remaining 1 tablespoon oil in same skillet. Add scallion whites, garlic, and ginger and stir until fragrant, about 1 minute, adjusting heat as needed. Add carrots and chile and cook, tossing occasionally, until carrots are slightly softened, about 2 minutes.

Return brussels sprouts and steak to skillet and add reserved sauce. Cook, tossing occasionally, until sauce is thickened, about 3 minutes. Serve with steamed rice and garnish with scallion greens.

Stop The Presses - Part Six

Since I know the majority of my readership here at "The State I Am In" are likely not subscribers of The Chicago Daily Law Bulletin, I just thought I would share with you the latest installation of my restaurant review column "Dining Due Diligence," which was published today:

Stepping into owner Keene Addington's Tortoise Club in River North feels like entering a portal back in time, to a bygone era when service reigned supreme, and the customer was always right.

Diners are greeted by a luxurious, masculine interior dominated by dark woods and vintage-inspired artwork. The soft lighting adds to the aura of privacy, making the venue a perfect location for sensitive business discussions that require confidentiality.

Even the bustling bar scene retains a sense of intimacy, making it an ideal destination for an after-hours drink with coworkers. A live jazz trio provides a soothing touch of sophistication without drowning out conversation.

Although the drink menu relies heavily on classic mixed drinks, the signature cocktail — the Tipsy Tortoise — provided a crisp and refreshing opener to the hearty, sumptuous meal to follow.

Also preceding the meal were offerings from the restaurant's bread program, the highlight of which were the minute pretzel batons. Their only flaw proved to be their petite size, which leaves diners wanting. Pumpernickel rolls and asiago tournedos, however, were merely average.

Sharing a plate of the crispy shrimp is an ideal way to start your dinner, as the crustaceans emerge perfectly cooked, superlatively juicy and accented by briny pickled chilies to cut the grease. The beef and barley soup is warming, stick-to-the-ribs fare, ideal for winter.

On the lighter end of the spectrum is the Brussels sprouts salad, which is well-balanced with a bright and acidic dressing, but somewhat lacking in the eponymous sprouts. The obligatory beet salad is distinguished by the presence of a chilled quinoa base, which was a bit disharmonious, but still palatable.

For the entrée course, the Berkshire pork chop proves succulent, but the maple glaze is somewhat aggressive, veering almost into dessert territory. The "caulimac," which derives its creamy texture from puréed vegetables and not dairy, is a surprise hit — with unique noodles cooked to an ideal al dente and a crust of toasted Parmesan and caramelized cauliflower.

Pheasant pie is another standout, with a buttery, flaky crust and a rich, gamey filling. For the less adventurous, chicken is an immensely satisfying choice, with earthy lentils and crisp-tender cabbage, all in a richly savory jus.

If you wish to extend your decadent dining experience, the intensely chocolaty brownie will satiate any "chocoholic." Unfortunately, the pecan pie fell into the too-common trap of overly cloying sweetness and is best avoided.

Tortoise Club is perfectly suited to important meetings, where its traditional, stalwart atmosphere conveys power and prestige. For those planning a larger function, its opulent library space can host receptions and celebrations.

For your business-entertaining needs, run, walk, or crawl to the Tortoise Club, 350 N. State St.