It’s not a traditional restaurant. It’s not a restaurant at all. There’s none of the infrastructure you would associate with a restaurant, save for a walk-in refrigerator in the back where cases of produce get stored. There is no dishwasher, no flat-top, no grill, no broiler, no fryer, no oven, and no range, to say nothing of any more esoteric kitchen appliances. If you can’t cook it on a butane burner, you can’t cook it there. What we have is a long rolling worktop with a bunch of butane burners on it, and a dishwashing setup on a second set of rolling wire shelves. There are no stations, no convenient eye-level shelf from which to hang your order tickets, none of that. There are no conveniences and no crutches. What you see is what you get. Essentially, it’s a street food setup, only the diners eat with forks and knives (or chopsticks and spoons) and real bowls and plates, seated at tables. We’ve even got tablecloths. We’re civilized like that in Baltimore.

So no, it isn’t fancy. But the food is good and the low overhead means my prices can be much more reasonable than might otherwise be the case. And, for those who like dinner and a show, it’s a setup that offers an unparalleled chance to watch your food being made. The “kitchen” is about five, maybe six feet from the closest two tables.

I thought this would be intimidating. It’s not. Not everyone watches. Some read the newspaper, or talk to their dining companions. Some bring a book. But some people do watch me cook. Whether they watch avidly, as if trying to learn how to do it themselves, or distantly, like people tend to watch fry cooks’ backs at diners, depends on the customer. Sometimes they like to stand right in front of me and chat with me while I cook, and mostly that’s okay unless there’s a big rush on and I’m managing too many things at once to be an engaging and ingratiating conversationalist.

I worried, at first, about what people would think. Would they judge my technique? My looks? My headwrap and my Virgin of Guadalupe apron? Compare me unfavorably to the polished, coiffed, professionally-lit denizens of Kitchen Stadium or any of the zillion cooking instruction shows out there?

Would they look at my mise-en-place, in all its unglamorous dishwasher-safe plastic tubs, and decide my food wasn’t fresh enough because I wasn’t peeling/paring/chopping/zesting/mixing absolutely everything from its raw state for absolutely every single cover? (You’d be amazed the kinds of things that come out of people’s mouths and minds, sometimes, truly.) And anyway, what if I screwed up? What if I didn’t flip a crepe properly and I had to redo it? What if I dropped something? What if I messed up an order? What if I looked inept or amateurish? Hell, what if my technique just wasn’t very interesting? Or I couldn’t make conversation and cook at the same time and my customers took it personally? What if? What if?

The night before I first did this particular gig, I lay awake in bed worrying about all this stuff and a thousand other variations on a theme. I’d worked in kitchens before, but always well behind the scenes. It had never occurred to me then to be grateful for the anonymity.

But you know, it’s really okay. A beautiful thing happens when I get onto the line in the open kitchen and start filling orders. It’s actually a familiar thing, something I learned to appreciate from childhood as a musician. You take that couple of steps out onto the stage, out behind the butane burners, and you’re on. It’s showtime.

It takes a lot of concentration to keep everything humming and to keep everything straight. You have to be mindful to know when your crepe needs to be turned your mushrooms pan-seared your egg cracked your sauce spooned your wontons taken from the boiling pot your steamer base filled your dishrack emptied your backup container of chili-garlic paste fetched from the walk-in and at the same time hey, good to see you, we’re doing such-and-such for brunch today, what looks good to you? There is no time to care whether anyone is watching or what they might think, you’re busy. The shift is a single stretchy moment and your attention is right there, every minute. It has to be.

What I’m describing isn’t inspiration, it isn’t the cliched ecstasy of artistry that everyone assumes is the animating force behind anything that can be described as art. I’ve experienced that too, and it’s different. (It’s also not a requirement for art.) That comes from without, the proverbial bolt from the blue. This comes from within. It’s attention, it’s focus, it’s being so caught up in the activities of being a good craftsperson that that’s your whole world, the only thing you think about, the only thing you can think about, all there is. I’m lucky. There’ve been multiple kinds of work in my life, as a musician, a writer, a teacher, a public speaker, where I’ve been able to spend good chunks of working time with this kind of focus and flow. It’s a gift to get to work like this. To get to live like this. Even if it’s only sometimes.

I don’t mean to romanticize the situation. God knows it’s not romantic. It’s hard work. Really hard. There are steam burns and grease spatters and stains and broken dishes, confusion and mixups and all the rest. It’s intensely physical and enormously brain-consuming, for all that it isn’t intellectual. After the 48-hour or so cycle of prep and pack in, set up and service, cleanup and breakdown and pack out is all over, I’m dead tired, brain fried, good for nothing much more complicated than walking the long-suffering dog and running the dirty kitchen linens and tablecloths through the washer and dryer. (Linens service is another thing pop-up restaurateurs have to do for themselves.)

But it’s good, being in the open kitchen.

                          

I’ll be cooking a special brunch for Mother’s Day, Sunday May 9, at Mill Valley General Store (2800 Sisson St., Baltimore, Maryland), from 9 to 1.  This laid-back but luxe affair will feature your choice of

– my own homemade gravlax, made with love from sustainably harvested Atlantic salmon, served with Tellicherry pepper-spiked labneh, pickled red onion, capers, and fresh crusty bread

or

– shallot-gruyere bread pudding, a delectable marriage of sweet caramelized shallots, aged Gruyere, free-range eggs, naturally leavened whole wheat bread, organic milk, and fresh spring herbs from my 100% organic kitchen garden

If you’re feeling indulgent, have some of each!

For dessert, delightful lemon or key lime bars — sunny lemon curd or perky key lime curd slathered on top of buttery shortbread and sprinkled with powdered sugar.  Try one or luxuriate in one of each.

As a thank-you to all the mothers in our midst, I’m offering a free lemon or key lime bar to any mama with the purchase of brunch.  Thank you for all you do, and as I say to my own mom every year, for not strangling us even when we deserve it!

Hand-blended tea available from Zensations by Jen, Zeke’s Coffee and bottled beverages available from Mill Valley.

RESERVATIONS: email han...@hanneblankcooks.com and let me know how many will be in your party, and whether you’d prefer to come during the 9:00-11:00 window or between 11:00-1:00.  RSVP by Wednesday, May 5.

I’m looking forward to cooking for you!

                          

Mill Valley General Store Winter Produce Co-Op Food Demo and Sampling Saturday, February 20 at 10 am, 11 am, noon, and 1 pm

Free and Open to the Public

Join me Saturday, Feb. 20th. for a show-and-tell-and-taste as I walk you through these scrumptious recipes…

• Moroccan Orange Salad — Bright and zesty, this version of a traditional North African salad is great when more traditional salad ingredients are out of season.
• Roasted Baby Beets and Turnips with Mint-Garlic Yogurt — Roasted root vegetables served with yogurt are a comfort food throughout the Fertile Crescent.
• Mushroom-Celeriac Pecan Pate — This versatile, light, and savory vegan pate works with bread, crackers, or crudités, and makes a great sandwich filling. It is also delicious tossed with hot pasta as a pesto.
• Braised Red Cabbage with Apple and Mustard — A twist on a traditional Mennonite method of cooking the old faithfuls of winter produce. This holds well, so make enough for lunch the next day!

At Mill Valley General Store, 28th and Sisson St., Baltimore MD.

Call 410.889.6842 for more info.

* * * * *          * * * * *           * * * * *

Dumplings Take Over The World

Hanne Blank (that’s me!) and Mick T. Pirate of Whiskey Island Pirate Shop take over Mill Valley General Store to bring you another dazzling and delicious display of  dumpling derring-do!

Sunday, March 14 at  Mill Valley General Store

28th and Sisson, Baltimore, Maryland

Seatings at 9:30 am and 11:30 a

The last event sold out and seating is limited, so make your reservations early by contacting Mick at mick...@aol.com

March 2010 Dumplings Take Over The World Menu

A Bowl of Soul
Throughout China, a bowl of huntun — the Cantonese call them wonton
– is a favorite street food. Our fresh handmade huntun come in a
traditional pork and water chestnut filling or a vegan Buddhist
version with seitan. Try them northern style, with diabolically tasty
Chengdu ma la oil infused with chiles, Sichuan pepper, and spices. Or,
for those who “pa la” (fear chiles), the southern version with
Cantonese ginger-scallion oil is sublime.

Gunpowder Pearls
The Chinese invented gunpowder, but it took Maryland to produce
Gunpowder Bison. Coated with glistening glutinous rice and fragrant
with Mongolian spices, these steamed balls of ground bison are our
shout-out to Asian cowboys everywhere.

Lotus Seed Bao
Traditional dim sum menus include sweet items alongside the savory so
eaters can enjoy alternating tastes. Filled with delicate lotus seed
paste, these homestyle steamed buns will bring you a sweet and happy
Year of the Tiger!

Again, The last event sold out and seating is limited, so make your reservations early by contacting Mick at mick...@aol.com

                          

Well, I’m still writing a book.  And a second book.  And trying to find time to work, now and then, on a third book.

But I’ve also been making a lot of these little bundles of joy:

Chewy and crunchy, homemade potstickers stuffed with pork, salted cabbage, and water chestnut.

Including for a little event we called Dumplings Take Over The World, where a full sampler plate of the goodies I cooked up looked like this (taken by one of our diners, Rachel Whang):

Make way for dumplings! Photo Rachel Whang.

You can read more about the event in Heather Hulsey’s enthusiastic review in Gutter Magazine, if you like.

And I’ll be cooking up a storm at Mill Valley General Store here in Baltimore (Sisson and 28th St.) this Saturday, February 20, from 10-2, as I demo a bunch of delicious dishes showcasing items available through Mill Valley’s Winter Produce Co-Op.  It’s free, open to the public, and there’ll be samples of things like Moroccan Orange Salad, Mushroom-Celeriac Pecan Pate, and Roasted Beets and Golden Turnips with Mint-Garlic Yogurt if you want to come on over.

But most recently, I’ve been working on these:

Mexican Chocolate "faux-reos" -- pink for Valentine's Day.

I’m sure it had something to do with our having gotten four feet of snow in the space of a week –no small thing for a town where we usually get about 18 inches over the course of a whole winter.  (We’ve been referring to it as “snOMG.”)  I was doing epic amounts of snow shoveling, and what I wanted was a sandwich cookie that was basically an Oreo on steroids.  After a bit of thought I figured out that what that meant was 1) a cookie that was really worth eating, and 2) a complex, rich Mexican chocolate flavor with almonds, cinnamon, and a little bit of chili heat.  This was not a cookie that existed, as far as I could find, so first I looked at a whole mess of recipes for various cookie components and options, then started developing my own.  Following a tasting panel of friends in my kitchen yesterday, I think I’ve got it right… it’ll take one more batch to be sure.

Now, of course, I want a vanilla-based counterpart to the Mexican Chocolate “faux-reo,” something as springlike and refined as the M.C.F.s are hearty and in-your-face.  I’m thinking about flaky palmier-type cookies flavored with vanilla and maybe rose or lavender, with a citrus buttercream.  We’ll see what the winds of spring blow into my kitchen.