I finagle my way into a lot of amazing dinners by amazing WashU chefs and then write about them on Fooducated. My number one goal: eat. My number two goal: make you jealous.

But this weekend, you get to make me super jealous by going to a dinner I can’t attend. The new head chef at Ibby’s Wilfrin Fernandez-Cruz and pastry chef Lisa Fernandez-Crus (who also happens to be Chef Wil’s wife) are conducting their very first STL pop-up event. It’s a Calcotada Festival, which is a Spanish celebration of the coming of Spring. 

Imagine flavorful lamb, sausage, and limitless Rose… I know your mouth is watering. So is mine but I’m back in NYC for the summer. If you’re in STL then you’re also in luck because the tickets haven’t sold out yet. Click here to buy some or to lean more about Wil and Lisa: http://www.delafincastl.com/calcotada-festival.html

This dessert is a lot like my mom: exciting, sweet, and topped with a sprinkle of unexpected crunchiness.

My original plan for Mother’s Day dessert was to copy Campus Executive Chef John Griffith’s dish. He made buttermilk panna cotta with strawberries, rhubarb,* and candied peanuts as the seventh course in an amazing eight course meal that I was lucky enough to be invited to. I may or may not have eaten three helpings of the panna cotta. Maybe. They were small.

Anyway, the plan to plagiarize Chef Griffith’s dessert fell through when I got home and realized that I forgot to buy gelatin. Without gelatin, the panna cotta would basically be cold buttermilk in a ramekin. Gross.

I decided to make a buttermilk ice cream instead and immediately felt like such an Iron Chef for using ice cream as a solution to a cooking dilemma (recipe below).

Chef Griffith’s rhubarb topping featured little pieces of cooked rhubarb and strawberries. I began on my journey to copy his topping by throwing chopped up rhubarb and strawberries in a pot over medium heat. Then I poured in lemon juice and brought it to a boil. When I tasted it, my taste buds cringed from the sourness. Something had to be done. I added sugar, fresh ginger, and some vanilla.

It started to smell like a jam and, in my excitement about successfully rescuing the too-sour topping, I forgot that I wasn’t making jam and I began smashing the rhubarb with a fork while singing: “welcome to the space jam.” Then I yelled at my sister’s fat dog for staring at me.

I think I’m giving you too much information.

Luckily, jam can also be called “Rhubarb Sauce” and it can be drizzled on ice cream. Plus, my sister spread it on some bread and said it was her “new favorite jam.” So that’s all good news.

For the candied peanuts, I decided to  follow a recipe because candying things scares me. I rarely manage to do it successfully. I almost always manage to end up with a pan filled with burnt sugar.

I used Daniel Lebovitz’s recipe because he includes encouraging lines like: “Don’t worry; you didn’t mess up.” The three times that I began to panic, I remembered his words and just kept stirring. Sure enough, I didn’t mess up!

To compose the dish, I topped a scoop of the ice cream with a dollop of the rhubarb sauce and some chopped up candied peanuts.

The dish was… dare I say it… the bomb. The sweet and nutty peanuts balanced out the sourness of the buttermilk and the rhubarb perfectly. Chef Griffith’s gets all of the flavor credit for what is now one of my five favorite desserts (I don’t really know what the other four are).

Make this. You will not regret it and your mom will love you for it.

Happy Mother’s Day!

Rhubarb “Sauce” (or Jam, whichever you prefer)

Ingredients

• 5 rhubarb stalks, cut into rough small pieces
• 3/4 cup of chopped strawberries
• Juice and zest of one small lemon
• 3/4 tablespoon of fresh ginger
• 3/4 cup of sugar
• 1 tablespoon of vanilla extract

Steps

1. Dump everything in a pot with a heavy bottom over medium heat.
2. Bring it to a boil.
3. Lower the heat and let it cook for 45 minutes.
4. Smush it.

Buttermilk Ice Cream

Ingredients

• 1 cup of buttermilk
• 2 cups of heavy cream
• 1/2 cup of sugar
• 1 tablespoon vanilla extract

Steps

1. Dump everything in a bottom with a heavy bottom over medium heat.
2. Stir often. Cook until sugar dissolves.
3. Cool.
4. Dump in your ice cream machine and churn according to your machine’s instructions.

Enjoy!!!!

*My favorite thing about rhubarb: in 1947, a New York State Court ruled that rhubarb is officially a fruit. That’s what they spent their time doing.

Finals Week is a lot like WILD.

You’re probably confused. You’re probably wondering: how can the worst week of every semester be anything like WILD, the biannual day on which every student at Wash U is suddenly a party animal? The same rules for survival apply.

(1) Eat. Don’t try to take an exam on an empty stomach. Instead, grab a ham and bacon jam (YES, BACON JAM) sandwich from the DUC (pictured below). The ham was fresh and the jam was a great combination of sweet and smoky. The baguette was weirdly chewy and the jam was slightly too sweet but the stressed-induced blur means you probably won’t remember most of it anyway.

(2) Stay hydrated. Coffee is not a substitute for water. In fact, coffee dehydrates. For every coffee you down, drink two cups of water.

(3) Pace yourself. Finals week is a marathon, not a sprint. Don’t go too hard too quickly. It’s important that you actually make it to all of the exams.

(4) And finally: try not to pass out in Bear’s Den. 

It seems appropriate on this, the eve of reading week, to write about late night breakfast. I had really high hopes for Fasano’s. I believed in the power of pancakes. I thought they’d make writing a marketing case in Bear’s Den a little less “bleh.” But I was wrong.

The pancakes were not golden delicious. The pancakes were not even the littlest bit crispy. The pancakes were not cooked all the way through.

The french toast was also disappointing. It wasn’t crispy. The egg hadn’t soaked through so the center was nothing but dry bread.

I’m going to bed because… without delicious pancakes… I can’t go on!!!

The tables at the Tongue & Cheek Tavern were covered in butcher paper and topped with big white plates, thick cloth napkins, bowls of vibrant turnips, and fresh rosemary sprigs. Chef Patrick Thrower, DUC Executive Chef, and Chef Wil Fernandez-Cruz, the new Chef de Cuisine at Ibby’s, composed the elegant gastropub in the Studio 40 as the last of the five dinners in the WU Restaurant Series.

The menu demonstrated Chef Thrower’s faith in students. Or his guts. Serving items like “trout rillettes,” “beef tongue pastrami,” and “beef cheek” to 20-year-olds (or anyone really) is definitely risky. It paid off tremendously.

He began with the scariest course: beef tongue pastrami.

It was served with small pieces of toasted bread, pickled vegetables, and a trio of house-made mustards. The slices of beef tongue looked like fried Spam. We were instructed assemble sandwiches.

I took a bite and could feel my eyes light up. The beef tongue was absolutely fantastically delicious. It was, to my great surprise, not chewy at all. The tender beef tongue melted away. It was rich but balanced out by the acidity of the pickled vegetables and the sharp mustard.

I had to have more. On the second toast, I spread the house-made beet mustard. The beet mustard added a touch of earthiness to each bite. Almost everyone at my table tried and enjoyed the tongue.

The next course: pommes dauphine with horseradish creme fraiche.

“These are like really fancy tater tots,” I exclaimed. But Stephanie quickly said: “you can’t even put them on that level.” The pommes duaphine were just too good to be compared to any level of tater tot. Henna compared them to “fried gnocchi.”

The pommes duaphine had wonderfully crispy outside and wonderfully fluffy potato insides. Like the beef, each bite melted onto my tongue. I feared the horseradish creme fraiche but it was appropriately creamy and appropriately sharp.

While we were lamenting the pommes duaphone, we were poured tall glasses of house-made root beer.

According to Chef Thrower, 50 different ingredients were used in the drink. They all worked together to create a root beer unlike any root beer I’ve ever had. The ale yeast in the root beer created an unprecedented depth of flavor.

The next course arrived promptly thereafter: smoked trout rillettes.

Rilletes is, according to Chef Fernandez-Cruz, a technique for cooking meats and fish. The trout was cooked in butter until super tender. The texture of the trout rilletes was similar to a chunky pate. We spread it on the house-made plantain chips on the table.

Each bite was super salty (in a good way) and super fishy (in a good way). I could taste the shallots and the bourbon that was added to the butter.

When the next course showed up, everyone whipped out their iphones to photograph it. Beautiful beef cheek sliders sat on a bed of grilled radicchio and brussel sprout leaves.

I took one bite and fell in love. The braised beef cheeks were tender but robust, like braised veal usually is (and braised short rib rarely is… why is it often so chewy??). The bitterness of the greens and the acidity of the onions did effectively lighten up the richness of the beef to create a really well-balanced and delicious slider.

The next course: quail eggs sitting on top of crispy potato hash stuffed with pancetta and beef cheeks.

Also known as: the world’s most badass breakfast. We topped it with drops of Mexican hot sauce and dug in. The hash was crispy to the nth degree. Chunks of pancetta inside the hash added salty touches while chunks of beef cheek added beefy richness. The delicate quail yolk held its own by adding a bit of moisture.

While we were eating, we were poured glasses of house-made ginger beer.

Each sip was like a ginger-packed kick in the face. The sip would begin slightly sweet and become spicy. It was intense and interesting and refreshing.

Then the next course arrived: Poularde roulades.

The poularde (which is a hen that is raised in a way that makes it particularly fatty and particularly meaty) was rolled (hence the word roulardes) around corse forcemeat (which is usually an emulsification of ground pork and pork fat and seasoning) and wrapped in prosciutto. It was served with brussel sprouts and cubes of pancetta.

This course was, in my opinion, the most classic dish. It reminded me of Thanksgiving. I loved the crispy prosciutto and loved loved loved the combination of bitter brussel sprouts and salty pancetta.

To end the meal (and the series), Chef Thrower and Chef Fernandez-Cruz had to do not one dessert, not two desserts, but three desserts. First up: strawberry rhubarb crumble.

It was absolutely awesome. Slightly sour rhubarb and slightly sweet strawberries commingled with the crispy topping to make a dish that was not too sweet, not too sour, not too anything except delicious.

It was followed with plates of “monkey bread,” which was so appealing that I forgot to photograph it. Monkey bread is, according to Chef Fernandez-Cruz, a STL classic. It was small pieces of warm bread covered with a light dusting of spices and a not-light-at-all coating of caramel. Sugar had melted and cooked onto pieces of the bread. It was incredibly sweet but also delicious.

To cut the sweetness, they finished with a cheese plate and some house-made fig jam filled with mustard.

The cheeses were all from local creameries. The salty cheese combined with the sharp mustard and the slightly sweet figs to balance out of the sugar that’d hit our palates during the first two dessert courses. It was a great finale.

I can’t pick a favorite course. It’s a tie between the beef tongue pastrami, eggs and hash, and pommes duaphine.

Chef Thrower had faith in us. He believed that even students who sustain themselves on half & halves would try the beef tongue and the beef cheek and most of us did try. In fact, we did more than try. We loved the tongue and the cheek at the Tongue & Cheek Tavern.

The WU Restaurant Series began (with Chef Rushing’s The Rusty Spoon) and ended with pop up restaurants that managed to be both welcoming and interesting. Again, I walked away amazed with the passion and talent demonstrated by the chefs at Dining Services. Putting the amount of time and effort it takes to orchestrate such a beautiful, delicious, and interesting 5-course meal requires dedication. I’m impressed and grateful that that dedication is present in a meal on a college campus for students. 

I will spend the entire summer dreaming about delighting in another five-course WU pop up meal. 

I’ve been avoiding this vegetarian special because, quite frankly, it looks like bleh. Polenta looks like baby food. Swiss chard stew looks like airplane food. But I walked into the DUC from the pouring rain looking for something warm to eat and the polenta caught my eye.

Polenta, from what I understand, is basically grits but the cornmeal grains in polenta are more finely ground. While polenta is now on the menus of many upscale dining locations, it used to be a staple in the meals of Italian peasants because it is relatively inexpensive.

The DUC’s polenta was relatively delicious. It was smooth but slightly grainy so it didn’t feel as mushy as it looked. It was cheesy and creamy and rich and comforting. The flavors (and especially the richness) reminded me of the gnocchi at Ibby’s,

The brocoli, on the other hand, was completely overcooked and soggy. The swiss chard stew had a nice acidity to it but it was kind of boring. And the tofu was really not my thing. It was chewy and bland.

But the polenta. The polenta was good. Really good. So next time I’ll do what the student on line in front of me did and only order a side of polenta (even though the salty creaminess might be a little much).

Meat makes the taco. You can have creamy guacamole, spicy habaneros, and fresh tomatoes but if it all sits on top of mediocre meat, the taco is destined to be nothing more than average.

The small Mexican women in the taco carts on the streets in NYC top their steak with nothing more than a sprinkle of onions and cilantro because their beef is just that good. When I saw the sign that read “Lunch Special: Grass Fed Beef Churrasco Tacos,” my heart skipped a beat. “Yes!” I thought: “I’m going to top my tacos with cilantro and onions and dig in.” But then, as I stared at the topping options, I started to chicken out. Afraid of ending up with mediocre steak topped with onions and cilantro, I asked for a little bit of gaucamole, lettuce, tomatoes, and a touch of habanero sauce.

That was a mistake. First of all, holy crap that habanero sauce is spicy. Second of all, the beef could’ve stood on its own. It was smoky, charred, and delicious. Had I not smothered the tacos with toppings, the meat would’ve come through even more. It was a little chewy and dry but the flavor made up for it.

Go get this special today (or hope that it’s still on tomorrow!) and keep the toppings minimal (although I’d still go with tomatoes, onions, and lettuce).

I took Spanish for six years. I can’t even sing the alphabet. Whenever people speak to me in Spanish (which is surprisingly often for some weird reason), I just smile and agree to whatever it is they’re saying.* I don’t know the alphabet. I don’t know animals. I don’t know how to ask you how your day was. But I do know food.

Mole poblano. Chilles rellano. Empanadas (which will be a special at Ibby’s tonight). Birria. Carnitas. You name it, I want it. Especially arroz con pollo. Arroz con pollo is so simple yet so satisfying. And strangely, it is less delicious sounding when translated into English: “rice and chicken.”

The DUC is serving arroz con pollo as a special for today and tomorrow. The chicken was muy juicy and coated with flavorful herbs. It was paired with fluffy yellow rice and a refreshing cucumber and mango salad. A mango and cucumber salad is not exactly included in the traditional “arroz con pollo dish” but it was a nice addition because it lightened up the meal.

*Not even kidding. When I was 16, I was in a Spanish immersion class in Barcelona and, like always, I answered “si” to a question I did not understand. The entire class gasped with surprise. After class, I rushed out of the room to Google translate the question. Turns out, the question was: “are you having an affair with a Spanish man?”

The sign above this sandwich totally undersold it. It advertised a “Ham and Swiss Sandwich,” which sounds appetizing but not particularly exciting. No mention was made of the olive-mustard spread thing that I have officially named “Delish” (because every great condiment needs a name).

Sometimes I can’t handle how funky Swiss cheese can be but the mild sharpness from the mustard and the acidity from the olives in the Delish worked to mitigate the cheese. Those flavors combined with the sweet ham and the fresh tomatoes and lettuce to make a wonderfully appetizing and interesting sandwich.

Paws & Go has all the of chips and dip essentials, i.e. chips and dip. They’ve got Tostitos in multiple shapes and jarred salsa and cheese dip in the corner by the froyo machine. But, unbeknownst to me until today, nuzzled between the zucchini and the bell peppers, they’ve also got dips that have been made by Dining Services. Those are the dips you want.

Habanero Salsa

I’m pretty proud of my spice tolerance and have yet to eat anything on campus that I considered truly spicy so, despite the “habanero” in the habanero salsa, I did not hesitate to douse the chip in salsa and pop it in my mouth. I learned my lesson. Dining Services makes pretty darn spicy habanero salsa. The heat hit my tongue and the back of my throat with vengeance. I was even more impressed by the salsa’s pleasant flavor. Often spicy sauces are nothing except painfully spicy. DS’s salsa, for whatever reason (I think it might have been the vinegar?), tasted a bit like beer.

Bacon Horseradish Dip

Desperate for something to cool my mouth down with, I dipped the next chip into the bacon horseradish dip. It did the trick. The dip’s extreme creaminess helped a lot. It was packed with smoky bits of bacon. I couldn’t really taste the horseradish but that’s fine by me.

Buffalo Chicken Dip

This dip was probably my least favorite and it was still good. The cream cheese base made it really heavy. It felt strange to eat chunks of chicken on chips and the buffalo sauce flavor wasn’t strong enough. I did really like the ranch flavor.

Spicy Black Bean Dip

The texture and color of this dip made it look unappealing but it proved me wrong. There is nothing bad about the combination of black beans, cilantro, and cumin. All three added a lot of flavor to the dip. But the dip wasn’t spicy at all (which isn’t really a complaint since my mouth is still recovering from that habanero dip.

IF I had to choose, I’d stick to the habanero salsa. It was the most exciting and the most interesting. But I’d have to make sure to have multiple glasses of milk standing by to quell the heat.

FINALLY. Finally, the sun is sticking around and doing its thing. Once the sun has stopped PMSing and we can eat outside, I’m in the mood for lighter food (I don’t understand those of you who eat creamy gnocchi at Ibby’s on the patio when it’s 80 degrees out).

The above pita pizza was light but it wasn’t very interesting. Despite the red onions and artichokes, it had very little going on. The pesto didn’t come through at all.  I liked the crispy pita and was surprised that it didn’t get soggy. It was covered in just the right amount of cheese (enough to be cheesy but not so much that it’s only cheesy). But it desperately needed a kick in the face from Mr. Flavor.*

*Gross. Can’t believe I wrote that. And that I’m keeping it.

Eating locally-grown food seems scoff-worthy. It’s an eccentric hobby enjoyed only by the hippies or an empty detail lamented by the foodies. A tomato is a tomato. Who cares whether is was grown in Missouri or Florida?

About a year and a half ago, when I arrived on campus, I too used to think it made little difference. And now – with fellow undergrads Lauren Ortwein, Drew Koch, and Andrew Lin – I’m launching Farmplicity.com, which is going to be an online platform where farmers, ranchers, and other producers within a 150 miles of St. Louis will sell their products directly to St. Louis area restaurants.

So what converted me? I’d like to tell you that it was my passion about sustainability or my desire to support the local economy. But that’d be lying. I was converted by my love for delicious food and a good story.

It all began with WUSTL Dining Services. Dining Services is run by Bon Appetit Management Company (BAMCo), which was recently named one of the 10 most innovative companies in food by Fast Company because: “long before the word ‘locavore’ entered the dictionary, BAMCo was mandating its chefs to buy seasonally and locally.”

I technically work for BAMCo because I get to cook at Ibby’s on Saturday nights. Despite working for them and writing Fooducated, I paid little attention to their local food campaigns. Then one day, Dining Services hosted a screening of American Meat, which is a documentary about the struggles small ranchers in America face. I went because Chef Rushing told me they’d be handing out pulled pork sandwiches and coupons for Chipotle. I’m not kidding. Don’t judge… if you’d known, you’d have been there just for the food too.

Both the movie and the pulled pork sandwich were great. I started paying more attention to BAMCo. BAMCo, I realized, is a for-profit company that is both profitable and socially responsible. In fact, “responsible” is too light of a word. They are socially active. BAMCo pushes for changes and makes money doing it. 

When I registered for the Hatchery (an entrepreneurship class in which you work with a team of students on a business idea), I knew I wanted to work on an profitable idea that would fix a problem that public policy should fix but won’t fix. One morning, over winter break, I was lying in bed and thinking about American Meat when it dawned on me that the agriculture industry needs their own special Amazon. Farmplicity was conceived.

But not really. Farmplicity as a school project was conceived. I cared a lot about the idea but not about executing it. Then I started meeting the people that would make the idea work.

Larry Hammer invited me and my team member Drew up to his farm and made us burgers with his beef from the grass-fed cows he raised last season. Here I am, picking the stems off of spinach leaves for the salad:

Larry was born in the home that he still lives in today. His house was built before the Civil War. Every room feels heavy with history. Larry grew up on Hammer’s Farm and then left to attend WashU (surprise!). He was drafted for the Vietnam War and decided to join the US Air Force. After the war, he flew planes for Southwest until his parents were too old to care for the farm by themselves. Today, Larry raises cows with his dog Hercules.

Larry’s story captures why a tomato isn’t just a tomato. Eating local food isn’t about the literal proximity. It’s about the emotional proximity. It’s about feeling close to the people who feed you. Larry doesn’t jam his cows into feedlots and then prop them full with corn. He raises them slowly, patiently, and with love and then he passes that love onto us in the form of tenderloins, t-bone steaks, and hamburgers.

Companies that ship tomatoes to Missouri from Florida don’t have stories like Larry’s story. They’ve industrialized agriculture and, as a result, stripped food of its history and its meaning.

They’ve also stripped food of its flavor. Larry’s beef was beefier than beef. Cows that’ve been raised on grass taste better than cows raised on corn mush because cows naturally eat grass. Tomatoes that were picked this morning taste better than tomatoes that were picked a week ago and shipped across the country.

So see… I’m completely converted. Give me good food and a good story and I’ll want to turn a project into a company. We’re launching the website on April 16th. Through Farmplicity, chefs will be able to order multiple products from multiple producers but only place one order and pay one invoice. We want to make serving local food so easy that there won’t be any reason not to. “Like” Farmplicity on Facebook if you want to know more or if you’re just kind enough to want to make me feel popular.

Here’s the burger recipe I promised in the title (and I promise… Fooducated is not going to turn into a platform for the spouting of locavore philosophies):

(serves 4)

Ingredients

• 1 1/2 pound ground beef (locally-raised and grass-fed if I’ve convinced you)
• 1 diced onion
• 2 tablespoons of oregano (weird, I know, but trust me)
• Kosher Salt and black pepper
• 4 slices of cheese
• 4 fluffy buns

Steps

1. Mix the ground beef, onion, and oregano together. Form it into four wide patties.
2. Heat up a pan (with a little bit of olive oil) or the grill until it’s nice and hot.
3. Place the patties down on the hot pan or grill and season the meat with salt and pepper.
4. Let them cook for 3 to 4 minutes. Resist the urge to push down on them with your spatula.
5. Flip the burgers. Let them cook for another 4 minutes (for medium-rare) or until they reach the desired doneness (if you want cheese, first do step 6).
6. Add cheese to the burgers and cover the pan or the grill with a lid one minute before taking them off of the heat.
7. Let them rest for 5 minutes and then enjoy!