xmas breakfast: baked egg cups

So easy... chop up yummy ingredients of your choice, place in ramekin, crack an egg on top, add a dash of cream, 11 minutes in a 350 degree oven (ramekins must be on a baking sheet)... and bingo, egg cups! These have leftovers from other meals (roasted asparagus, kielbasa, gruyere). Enjoy!

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Xmas eve dinner

S's eggplant parm. The best.

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Monster CSA Post I

Farfalle with turnip greens and prosciutto

Sausage and lentil stuffed acorn squash

Lemon boy choy, tofu, snow pea stir fry

Beet and goat cheese ravioli

Carrot soufflé

Acorn squash pie

We mostly tried to keep things simple, because of the amount of prep that fresh farm vegetables need.  Not that it is so onerous, especially because we aren't in classes now, but we like to keep cooking a joy and not a chore.  Make agains: farfalle (love the hint of bitterness in the tender turnip greens), carrot souffle (CSA carrots are heavenly), and acorn squash pie (so sweet, it barely needed sugar).  Tweaks: wonton wrappers are not an acceptable wrapper for ravioli, it is decided, but the simple filling of pureed roasted beets with goat cheese is divine.  Bok choy was fine but unexciting.  Stuffed acorn squash - fail.  Maybe this was a not sweet or just huge acorn squash, but despite an hour in the oven it was undercooked and tasteless.  The acorn squash we used for the pie was so amazing it really barely needed sugar to be dessert.  We are squash novices so we'll have to keep testing cooking methods for it.  This isn't even half of what we've been cooking up, so many more monster CSA posts will follow....

Obsessed with Microwave mochi

Hello, lover

Mochi has been a favorite treat since childhood.  But I had never even considered as make-able at home, as I assumed you needed an (expensive) mochi machine, not really available in the US, to make the dough.  However, whist wandering around on the interwebs as per usual, I discovered that people have been making mochi with, wait for it, their MICROWAVES.  I had to try it.

It's amazing.  Really.  Now I am obsessed.  Above you see my matcha green tea mochi filled with adzuki red bean paste. 

Here's my version of the recipe/protocol, with slightly different proportions and more tacit knowledge made explicit from this blogger's original:

1 Cup of Mochiko sweet rice flour
2 tsp Matcha powder
2 TBSP sugar
3/4 Cup of water
1 Can of adzuki bean paste
Cornstarch for dusting

Before starting anything, put the adzuki bean paste into a tupperware container and refrigerate.  When ready to make mochi, put some cornstarch onto a plate, which you will use to prep the mochi.  Have two spoons and a measuring cup with a flat bottom handy.  Put Mochiko, Matcha, sugar, and water into a microwaveable bowl and mix to form a paste.  Microwave the paste for 2 minutes, take out, stir a little, and then microwave for 2 minutes more.  Remove the hot bowl from the microwave, and let the mochi dough sit until you can touch it (it is wicked hot, but I am impatient and have a high tolerance for touching hot things so I start right away).  Dust your fingers with cornstarch to deal with the mochi dough.  Use a spoon (dipped in cornstarch) to take a heaping spoon of the dough, plop it on the cornstarch covered plate, dip the bottom of the measuring cup with mochi flour, and pound the dough into a flat circle.  Spoon the bean paste into the circle and then pinch it closed, shaping it into an oval.  Brush all sides with a light dusting of the cornstarch.  Repeat until you have used up all the dough.  You will have lots of paste left so feel free to make more dough.  Each cup of Mochiko makes about 6-8 mochis.  Happy cooking, but please do not hold me responsible if you burn your fingers with hot sticky sweet rice flour paste.

Bad blogger, good finder...

Sorry, blog.  I have been ignoring you.  But I have been eating well due to myself & Mr. O's membership in a CSA.  Mr. O in particular has been cooking up a storm.  A monster blog post about our CSA treats is coming, but in the meantime, I am happy to report that I have FINALLY found what looks to be a credible recipe for the The Counter's veggie burger, the best veggie burger I have ever had!  Unfortunately the "roasted vegetable mix" is not spelled out specifically, and the recipe makes 181 servings.  Other searching suggests that the mix is red bell peppers, carrots, and zucchini.  Must try, and will report back!

Two secrets (not my own) that I don't want to forget

1. You can speed up the maillard reaction when caramelizing onions by adding a pinch of baking soda.

2. When you want to "puree" garlic while you are chopping on your cutting board, add some salt so that the grains help to mash the garlic.

Nitakiya Kinsai, omakase heaven

S & I were lucky enough to experience one of the best meals of our LIVES in Tokyo, in a neighborhoody yet elegant izakaya named Nitakiya Kinsai, in Naka-Meguro.  We were accompanied by (and really could not have done without) our now-fluent Japanese speaking friend, T, under the recommendation of another good friend, L, who unfortunately could not join us in Japan this time.

But onto the food.  Friends, everything was as delicious as it looked.  Because I don't speak Japanese (though I definitely want to learn), I can't tell you as much as I'd like to about the food, but I will tell you how much I enjoyed it!

We put ourselves in the Kinsai chefs' hands, and requested an omakase dinner.  This meant that each lovely course would be a surprise, and would no doubt consist of fresh, seasonal, and creative dishes.

So delicious.

Course one started off with a light, lemony broth, garnished with roasted sesame seeds and finely sliced chive-like herbs.

I would eat this everyday.

Course two was a kind of tofu unlike any other I have ever had.  It was soft and smooth, and had a sesame flavor reminiscent of tahini.  It sat beautifully on a shiso leaf, and was accompanied with freshly grated wasabi and delicious rock salt.  Perfect.

Almost too beautiful to eat

Course three - my first sushi (well, to be specific, sashimi) in Japan experience.  And it didn't disappoint.  There might not be an English word for the fish on the left, but delicious will have to suffice.  In the middle was a sustainable skipjack tuna, and on the right, two silvery shiny slices of delectable mackerel.  I am a surprisingly conservative raw fish eater, and normally avoid mackerel because I find it, well, too fishy!  This was amazing, because it was so fresh.  Fresh fish is just a different animal. 

You know you want to dip your spoon in...

Course four, and I could cross one thing off of my must-try list.  Sea urchin.  I've always avoided it because of my conservative fish tastes, and rightly so.  To quote T, un-fresh sea urchin tastes like toilet water.  Not so with fresh sea urchin, which is smooth and mild and salty and lovely.  It sat upon a silky egg custard, which complemented the smooth texture of the urchin quite nicely.

Nicer than a Christmas present

This wonderfully fragrant package was filled with grill-steamed mushrooms, including shitake, matsutake, and enoki mushrooms.  The matsutakes were especially out of this world, and perfectly garnished with lime juice and sea salt.  Five courses, and still more to go!

MMMMMMM.

This dish was a wonderful contrast in flavors and textures.  The ball looking thing was made from chopped shrimp and coated in finer-than-angel-hair fried pasta.  It was accompanied by a pepper, eggplant, and smooth pile of shaved daikon, and sat in a lovely mild salty dashi broth garnished with some type of mild yet fresh herb.  I could eat this one everyday too.  By course six, I was getting really full.

No more words.

And what do you eat when you are starting get full?  Meat, of course.  Though I had eaten very little meat all summer, it wasn't hard to get right back into it with all of the delicious pork in practically every dish in Japan.  However, this was amongst the best, again accompanied by sea salt, some type of sweet miso, and a very hot pepper paste in addition to juicy grilled vegetables.  Course seven, even more full.

See the pumpkin hiding in the back?

Course eight was probably my least favorite, but it was still really delicious.  Another ball in broth, this time a chicken meatball with taro, Japanese pumpkin, and summer squash.  I really enjoyed the pumpkin though, and I wish that I could buy this in Ithaca.  We'll have to try to find it on our next pilgrimage to Mitsuwa Marketplace in Edgewater, NJ.

Like a painting, isn't it?

Somehow I managed to make room for the last meal course, two beautiful pieces of sushi.  Not sure what the one on the right was, but the one on the left was a delicate, delicious piece of anago (sea eel). 

There's always room for dessert!

Though you are full, there is always, always room for dessert, isn't there?  By what magic does your stomach mysteriously make room?  A lovely bean gelatin with matcha ice cream and a dark syrupy soy based glaze, with nutty soy powder to top it.  A beautiful light finish to a robust yet delicate meal.  I will remember it forever.

Ramen tears

Over the years S and I have, together and with friends, come up with or use existing food terms that refer to reactions from eating (usually adverse): food coma and meat sweats have larger circulation of course; and we have something called p-mode (p is for pig) where you not-so-secretly compete with the other person you share your dessert with so that you make sure to get your fair share.  Well, today at Nantsuttei Ramen I've discovered a new eating reaction.  I call them, ramen tears.  Ramen tears well up in your eyes when the broth is so delicious that you can't help but cry.  What is this magical bowl, you ask?

You may be asking, why is it black?!?  According to this blogger, the black stuff is called ma-yu, an oil flavored with burnt garlic.  Wow, was it intense.  The soup was surprisingly mild though, so when the ma-yu was distributed through the bowl it was amazing.  The broth was so delicious it literally brought tears to my eyes.

Then I bit into the noodles, which were also quite delicious, and more along the lines of what I had been expecting... thinner than at Setagaya and a slightly yellower color.  See for yourself --->

The pork, which you can see a bit in this picture and better above, was fine.  It didn't hold a candle to the pork from Setagaya, but the broth was so amazing that I'd have to say that this bowl trumped the other one.


In addition, I enjoyed the atmosphere at Nantsuttei a bit more.  I could hear lots of hustle and bustle in the background, of the female server communicating with the 3 ramen chefs, and the decor felt cozy and warm.

This was a sign that was posted in front of my seat, I just thought it was cute.

Whatever I just ate, it was delicious...

I think that this is going to be the theme of the trip.  Since I don't speak Japanese, it's lucky that I will eat pretty much anything as long as it is delicious (except tripe, lordy I hope that there is no tripe hiding in any of the dishes I order).  That means that it's going to have to be eat first, identify later.  And my first real Japan food experience taught me that.

Being so busy this summer and having pretty much no time in between my Berkeley program and my Japan trip meant that I couldn't spend as much time as I would have liked to planning the Japan trip.  Normally I would obsess over where I wanted to go when and what I wanted to eat, but I didn't have time to do that.  Which means, be open to whatever I find wherever I find it, and keep my expectations in check.

However, that doesn't mean that a bit of research isn't in order.  I am staying at Shinagawa, and it turns out that my hotel is literally across the street from Shinatatsu Ramen Row, with 7 famous ramen shops lined up quite conveniently, all waiting for me to try!

Thanks to this very useful blog post, I was able to identify where and what I ate, after the fact.  I'll keep you in the dark a bit longer though, to recapture my experience better!

I first wander around the Shinagawa station, and walk in the opposite direction of ramen row.  I had a sense that I was going the wrong way, but I wanted to orient myself to the area anyway and saw a few interesting looking Japanese fast-food type places.  I walked less than a block though, before realizing that it was just too darn hot to walk around without a destination in mind.  Also, I was really hungry.

So I turned around and walked toward ramen row, and found it quite easily.  I spent a little time taking in the different signs, but felt quite overwhelmed.  So, I decided to rely on one of the more useful tricks of the trade when you don't know where to eat... social proof.  Which place looked the most busy?  Then I saw this:

Of course, I knew that this is where I must go.  Plus, there were about 8 people in line in front of this vending machine, mostly salarymen and women in business wear on their lunch breaks.  They would know where to go!





What to get, what to get?  How to use the machine?  My heart was racing but my stomach said 'go for it.'


I knew I wanted ramen, and the red on this button caught my eye:

I didn't know what it was but it looked good. I could see onions and roasted pork, so I was sold.  I pushed the button, got my little ticket, and stepped inside.  It was quite busy but very efficient, so I didn't have to wait long. A server greeted me in Japanese, and I quickly said, "aigo ga wakatimas ga?" "Do you understand English?" -- she indicated only a little, took my ticket, and told me, "wait."  I did.

A few minutes later, when some parties left, she led me to a seat and I waited some more.  I looked around at what everyone else was having, and it looked like the guy next to me ordered the same thing.  Good, I thought.

Then my bowl came:

Wow, it looks just like the picture on the vending machine!  Amazing, that.

I dipped my spoon in, and wow.  The broth was not what I was expecting.  It was thick, not really like a broth, but like gravy.  It was quite salty, but not as salty as my favorite broth, shio.  It had a slightly seaweedy flavor, not actually strongly porky.  Hm, I thought.  This is just okay.

Then I tried a bite of the noodles.  You can't really tell from this picture, but they were a lot thicker than what I was expecting, almost flat.  And, thank goodness, the noodles were amazing.  Really amazing.  They had a perfect chewy texture.  Then I tried the thick root looking thing, which I think was bamboo.  The onions added a nice hearty flavor.  Then another moment of truth... I bit into the pork.  WOW.  The flavor was ridiculous.  Really, really, really, really good.  Sometimes I flirt with vegetarianism but it's meat like this that makes that a pipe dream.  This is what pork was meant to taste like.  It must be roasted in some way to get the incredible caramelized rich flavor, but I don't think I could ever replicate it.  Ridiculously good.

So what was it?  If you clicked on the other blog post (Go Ramen) you already know, but in case you didn't, it's called Kumo Ramen, according to Go Ramen Kumo means cloud. I ate at Setagaya, with Chef Maijima Tsukasa at the helm.  Here's a sign in case you want to find it yourself!

Bad eggs...

Of course you'd expect that I'm following the massive egg recall that is underway.  Explanations are proliferating (very similar to the peanut butter product recall), ranging from blaming industrial/factory farming, weak regulation, greedy CEOs, and national distribution.  There are some success stories emerging around the detection of outbreaks, with some state public health departments doing crack detective work with limited resources.  New food safety legislation has still not passed, mired in cross-state politics, battles over different visions of food safety, different views on who is to be blamed, and how producers of different sizes and localities will be affected. 

So what can I add to the plurality of voices here?  It is important to think about all of the above factors, and even more that I haven't mentioned, but I believe that more attention should be paid to two things: 1) clearer evidence chains that emphasize who is producing evidence and how this evidence is produced should be made publicly available.  2) if we indeed have "bad egg" companies that endanger the whole food system, what kinds of structural factors produce these "bad eggs" (ahem ahem ahem contract farming)?  A simple focus on greed and moral failing does not address deeper issues regarding the conditions that produce "bad eggs." 

Why is my zucchini bitter?

 To be clear, these farmer's market beauties were decidedly NOT bitter.  However, while dining in one of my favorite cafés and procrastinating from my piles of work, I was munching on a lovely panini with foccacia, pesto, grilled onions, and sauteed portobello mushrooms and zucchini.  Sounds delicious, right?  It was, except for the horribly bitter zucchini.  I decided to actually find out what exactly makes the zucchini bitter and answer this pressing question for all of you.  While folk theories about what causes this bitterness abound, it turns out that bitter zucchini is caused by the presence of what are called cucurbitacins, or, more specifically, oxygenated tetracyclic triterpenes.  These phytochemicals, according to Fenwick et. al (1990), start to have toxic effects at doses of 3 g.  Wow, um, that's not very much.  Cucumbers are another common veg that often has this problem.  So the next time you bite into a bitter zucchini, don't force yourself to eat it.  It's not the way you cooked it, it's not because it's too old.  Toss this one, and your next one will probably be fine.

Fenwick GR, Curl CL, Griffiths NM, Heaney RK, Price KR. Bitter principles in food plants. In: Rouseff RL, ed. Bitterness in foods and beverages; developments in food science 25. Amsterdam: Elsevier, 1990:205–50.

Ode to Heirloom Tomatoes

Heirloom tomato,
How I love thee.
Let me count the ways.
You are summer embodied,
With your fleshy acidic sweetness,
and colors!
Red Yellow Green Purple Orange.
And shapes!
Sphere Pumpkin Face Grape Alien.
I enjoy thee simply,
with salt only,
and remember that though our love is fleeting,
I will taste you once again each summer.

Gather... dare I say it, more enticing than Chez Panisse?

Compelling argument, no?  I guess I don't have hard data to back up my argument, but we walked around the Gourmet Ghetto with friends today and stopped to look at Chez Panisse's menu.  It was ridiculously expensive, especially compared to Gather, and while the food looked enticing, Gather had a similar locally-oriented, farm-to-table ambiance with a much more reasonable cost.  This pork belly sandwich with arugula was great, although I missed the normal accompaniment of cabbage (today it was replaced with onions and peppers).  The arugula side salad was perfect with the salty hearty sandwich, though.  So well composed.

Noyeaux? Oh, yes!

What is Noyeaux, you ask?  Don't worry, I had to ask too... it is the kernel of the apricot pit, which has a nutty almond like flavor.  This orange flavored ice cream had bits of noyeaux and crunchy burnt sugar (hence, the name créme brulée).  While the Earl Grey flavor still eludes me, apparently if you call Ici and press 2 you can hear their daily menu.  Or I could just keep playing the ice cream lottery and have lots of fun trying.

Panchan party...

Beautimous, is it not?  After our midterm massacre a few of my 한국어 배우는 학생드이 (Korean learnin' compadres) went to the lovely Sura (수라) in Oakland.  The meal was a bright spot after the test, in addition to mention the weird racial tension that hangs over the city like a specter.

Does the bright purple color of the cabbage come through in the photo?  It tasted even better than it looks.  Right underneath was the silkiest 알찜 (aljim) ever, a custard-like egg concoction with the most amazing texture.  Another favorite was included in the panchan, the first item in the middle row -- 무킴치 (moo kimchi), a fiery hot pickled and slightly fermented radish.  Sura was the first Korean restaurant I have ever been to that did not oversalt the food.   Everything was light, fresh, healthy tasting, and delicious, although my potato soup had a flavor I am unaccustomed to: perilla leaves, which I like by themselves in soy sauce, but was not as crazy about in a soup. 

I had a fascinating conversation with a friend today regarding (the resistance to) vegetarianism in Korea.  Sura could be a place in which you would be able to get the closest; while many other Asian cuisines have been more readily translated to accommodate vegetarians (and even vegans, re: Burma Superstar), Korean food remains particularly resistant.  Seafood and beef in particular are national sources of pride in Korea, and to not eat them may seem almost, well, un-Korean?  For all I know there is a burgeoning vegetarian movement in the bustling city of Seoul, but in America, the Korean restaurants have had a continued focus on bulgogi and kalbi as the stars of the cuisine's show, and fish or shrimp in various forms manage to sneak their way into almost every little panchan dish.  Sura seemed to offer a few vegetarian options, more than I have seen at other Korean places, but it is a far cry from the variety you can get at say, Burma Superstar or a million Thai restaurants.

Is it because Burmese or Thai food are more adaptable inherently?  I don't actually think so.  I think that you could create amazing Korean vegetarian food, especially with the use of interesting vegetables and frequent pickling.  I haven't jumped on the vegetarian boat yet though I try to ration my meat consumption for sustainability reasons, but I feel about vegetarianism the way I feel about shopping... it's more fun when you can go shopping with your friends, regardless of what size each of you are, and feels awful when you can't spend time in the same store or department because your size isn't offered.  Similarly, it feels pretty crappy when your friends don't have vegetarian options on the menu to choose from.  As yummy as tofu can be, that shouldn't be the only vegetarian option available. 

Bring on the unusual...

Poor neglected blog.  I still love you, even though I have been ignoring you for awhile, in the meantime eating up a storm with friends.  I think I forget to take photos when I see the food and just dig in, not remembering to snap one until it is too late.  A very memorable 4th of July weekend was spent at a return trip to Burma Superstar (with more vegan friends), the Counter in Palo Alto (their veggie burger is actually vegan, must try to replicate this at home!), a take-out trip to the famous Falafel's Drive-in in San Jose (where we ran into Mr. & Mrs. Cupcake of all people), and then a lovely afternoon drinking vino and lying in the grass at a beautiful winery in Livermore.

What I do have pictures of are some of the more unusual things I've tried lately.  S & I went to the Berkeley Farmers' Market and saw these:

Fresh chickpeas!  Neat, huh!  They are fascinating looking, individually wrapped by nature, each delicate pod housing one green, sweet, nutty chickpea.  They tasted a bit like peas, actually, and would be wonderful in a salad; although, as my in-laws have taught me to say, this would entail a lot of patschke-ing around.  And since my summer kitchen facilities are less than optimal and my available time to cook short, I resisted purchasing them.

Another unusual item I tried (actually for the second time) is 팓빙수, patbingsu.

Yes it was as big as it looks in the photo.  This is what you call a delicious abomination.  It shouldn't be good but it is: shaved ice milk slathered in artificial strawberry syrup, topped with kiwis, strawberries, canned pineapple, banana small bits of mochi, chocolate syrup, vanilla syrup, sweet red beans, and ice cream.  There's a cute Korean sandwich shop/cafe near my building that also sells patbingsu.  It wasn't as good as the first one I tried in the South Bay, but it was pretty good and lots of fun to eat a mishmash of tastes that shouldn't go together, but do.

Can I set a world record for Ici visits?

Maybe I will... I brought some visiting friends with me, and we rapturously enjoyed our burnt caramel, blackberry, and blueberry flavors. I plan to keep going to Ici until I hit on a day when they serve the Earl Grey flavor. Until then, I can only dream.

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Holy land right in my backyard

This lovely looking falafel pita came from the Holy Land, a cute Israeli joint right in my neighborhood! How convenient is that? The best part of the meal, however, was the frozen lemonade with pureed mint.

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Schmaltz!

While prepping chicken thighs for the grill (they're in the fridge, bathing in Chiavetta's) I decided to make them skinless and trim them of as much fat as possible. That's healthy, right?

At first, I was disgusted at the amount of fat and skin I'd trimmed off (see 1st picture). But then I was inspired: schmaltz!

Schmaltz is rendered chicken fat. It's a main ingredient in chopped liver and is a good general cooking fat if you keep kosher -- you can't use lard because it's pork, and can't use butter because it's dairy. Apparently it's also tasty spread on dark rye with a little salt.

	After aggressively trimming four large chicken thighs, I was left with a pile of skin and fat. Since I started with 1.3 lbs of chicken, I estimate there's maybe 0.3 lbs of fat and skin here. This looks disgusting.
	Into a pot it goes, along with 1/4 cup of water, some onion powder, and some wing tips I'd been saving for stock but would repurpose here for its fat and skin content. The water will all boil off by the time it's done, but early on it helps distribute the heat while the fat melts. Ideally, you'd use real onion, but I didn't have any on hand (the one half onion in the fridge had gotten dried out).
	Once the wing tips gave off everything they could, they went into the trash. Now what's left is just the melted fat and the skin bits.
	Any water, as well as any moisture in the skin and fat, has boiled off, and the gribenes (more on this later) are getting nice and brown. All done. It took nearly an hour to get to this point, which is longer than I expected.
	On the right is the cup of schmaltz, having passed through a coarse-ish strainer. If I had cheesecloth, I'd have used it, but I think it turned out okay anyway. And on the left is the gribenes, the fried bits of chicken skin.

For my first try, this couldn't have gone any better. Once the gribenes cooled a few minutes, I ate them with just a little salt. Not something I'd snack on every day, but amazingly good. And, surprisingly, not that greasy. All the fat attached to the skin had melted off, and so I suppose not that much remained.

The schmaltz is cooling. After that, it'll go into the freezer. It's pure fat, so it should keep a long time, at least until I can figure out what I want to do with it.

Burma Superstar is even better in Oakland

At the newer location in Oakland, there is so much more seating! No 3 hour lines here. The food was just as good, and they have so many options that can be made vegan. Some vegan/vegetarian friends were in town and so Burma Superstar was an optimal choice. We had the yellow bean fried tofu, which you see here, tea leaf salad (minus shrimp), rainbow salad, yummy coconut rice, and vegetarian noodles. I do really miss the Bay Area for a few reasons, and Burma Superstar is one of them!

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Ici is dangerous...

because it is within walking distance to my apartment, oh no, oh yes! This is a chicory chocolate chip scoop in a hand-rolled cone filled with chocolate. The 3/4 mile walk there burns off all the calories, right?

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Scoping out Berkeley cafes: The Beanery

I am feeling a little house bound and need some new places to study. Today I am trying out The Beanery in Elmwood, and am really enjoying the ambiance! Classical music in the background, comfy seating, and a lot of sunlight make this very pleasant. I have heard the coffee isn't the best, but my veggie sandwich is super cute, isn't it?

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Sous Vide Eggs Semi Fail

Inspired by Steve and JP's sous vide setup, I thought I'd give some sous vide softboiled eggs a shot.

Here is my tale of woe.

There's a lot of good stuff to read about eggs and sous vide. Serious Eats provides a detailed description of how eggs respond to temperature, as does this guy, who does it specifically in the context of sous vide, and this site, which gives a nice breakdown of the proteins, etc. Finally, this post received a comment about a finishing technique that I try to replicate here.

So I read all this stuff, and I thought I was good to go. As I did in my comparatively successful rib smoking adventure, I reasoned that if I could get the science right, then the hardware didn't matter, and the thermos container could work nicely.

I decided at the outset that I'd cook two eggs to 145 degrees for 45 minutes. That's enough time for the temperature gradient to even out, and for semisolid whites and yolks. In fact, this guy points out that others have described the 145-degree egg as the perfect sous vide egg.

Ok, here we go.

We have this Rubbermaid cooler that we take to the beach sometimes. It's good enough for holding lunch and snacks for two cool for a whole beach day. The eggs can go right in; the shell means they don't need a plastic seal. Since there's no vacuum, it's not really sous vide, but that's a technicality.

This pot is 3.5 quarts. I used the candy thermometer to know precisely when the water is at 145 degrees. I let it go a hair's width over 145.

Ok the water's poured in and the timer's set for 45 minutes. How do I pass the time?

I pass the time by some turkey bacon! As a side note, turkey bacon doesn't have that much fat. So unlike regular bacon, it benefits from a quick spray of oil before cooking. This way it gets darker and firmer.

45 minutes has gone by. I scooped the eggs into this small pot of boiling water and left them for exactly 60 seconds, before depositing them in a lukewarm water bath. The idea is that 60 seconds in boiling water would further solidify the whites, but not affect the 145-degree yolks. I think of this the same way I think about giving sous vide steaks a quick sear on a very hot grill. During that 60 seconds, I checked the temperature of the water remaining in the cooler. 125 degrees. That's not good. Which was unexpected, because every few minutes I checked and the cooler never felt hot. The red sides and bottom remained room temperature to the touch, and the white lid felt only a little warm. So I was surprised it lost so much heat.

This is the result of egg #1. It isn't the perfect sous vide egg. It's what the professionals call "raw." Bummer.

My toast and bacon are awfully lonely. The careful observer will notice there are three slices of bacon on this plate, but four in the pan pictured above. The observer who knows me will realize I can't sit by cooked bacon for 45 minutes without eating it.

Perhaps things are salvageable. Using the small pot, I started with new water and heated it to 150 degrees. Egg #2 is retained, and egg #3, still raw, is pressed into service. As with the grill with the ribs, a gas stove is remarkably good at maintaining a consistent temperature. After heating the water to 150, I cut the heat to as low as possible. Every ten minutes or so, the temp reached 153 or so. I stirred in a little cold tap water to bring the temp back down to 150. For good measure, I left them in the 150 degree bath for an hour.

These are the results. Egg #2 looks a little better than egg #3, but both actually look pretty good (#3 had some speckles, #2 did not, so I could tell them apart). The whites are partially solid, a bit runny, and defninitely slippery. The yolks are still soft and moist and not at all crumbly. A little salt and paprika, and these eggs were not bad. This isn't my favorite mode of preparation; I would ideally prefer a more solid white and more runny yolk, something more like a perfect poached egg (which I have consistently failed to do at home). But it's pretty similar to the "perfect sous vide egg" described before, and it wasn't even done sous vide. I just wish I had some toast to eat them with. I ate the toast and bacon while waiting for eggs #2 and #3 to cook, and that was my last roll.

Post game analysis:

There are lots of places I could have gone wrong. I suspect i didn't use enough water at the beginning. I think I'd try it again with at least three times as much. Also, maybe the cooler leaked more heat than I thought, and that it's just not up to the task.