Acorn Squash and Cheddar Bread Pudding

This is not the dish I set out to make. What I wanted to make was Molly Wizenberg's Butternut Squash and Cheddar Bread Pudding from the November 09 issue of Bon Appetit. I had already made her version once for a pot-luck. It was a super hit at the party and was also delicious when Kate and I wanted a snack a few hours later.



Unfortunately, Sunday night is not the ideal time to shop at an organic grocery; I think because there's no delivery. And this Sunday selection was especially ill-fated for me. Every major ingredient for this recipe (barring the cheddar) was out of stock!

Butternut Squash. No.
Kale (of any kind). No.
Baguette. No.

I was actually counting on the Sunday shop for the baguette, since Ms. Wizenberg calls for "day-old"--which Sunday baguettes almost certainly are--but, alas, no baguettes were to be found.



Not to be deterred (though, honestly, I almost was), I pushed on with alternative ingredients, a determination which gave me the chance to work on both my recipe improvisation and my optimism (two goals for the new year). The final dish actually turned out just as tasty as the original, especially because the Swiss chard added a little more color and flavor to the mix.

P.S. I am obsessed with Swiss chard.


*thank you lovely assistant*

Here's my improvised recipe:

Acorn Squash, Swiss Chard and Cheddar Bread Pudding
reluctantly, but happily adapted from Molly Wizenberg, BA Nov. 09
makes 6-8 servings

2 pounds acorn squash, sliced in half
3 TB olive oil
1 1/2 tsp. kosher salt
7 large eggs
2 1/4 cup half and half
6 TB dry white wine (plus the rest of the bottle for drinking)
1 1/2 tsp. Dijon mustard
1 day old large rustic bread (I used Pain au Levain), sliced into 1-inch cubes
1 c. chopped shallots
2 bunches Swiss chard, stems removed and chopped separately, leaves coarsely chopped
8 oz. extra sharp cheddar, grated

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Drizzle squash with olive oil and sprinkle with kosher salt. Bake for about 40 minutes, until tender--checking after 30 minutes. Allow to cool until you can handle them. Use a knife to score the skin, and then peel. (If anyone has a better way to peel these, let me know. This is just something I improvised when the ridged shape of the squash made peeling them raw difficult.) Chop into 1-inch cubes.

Whisk eggs in large bowl. Add half and half, wine and mustard; whisk to blend. Add bread pieces, folding gently into egg mixture. Allow to soak for 30 minutes, stirring occasionally.

Meanwhile, heat 2 TB oil in large pot and add shallots and chard stems. Saute until soft, about 5 minutes. Add chard leaves by the handful, cover and cook about 2 minutes. Uncover and cook until fully wilted, but still bright green, about 5 more minutes.

Reduce oven temperature to 350.

Generously butter a large baking pan (13 x 9 inch). Using a slotted spoon, place 1/2 of bread pieces in the bottom of the pan, arranging to cover most of the dish. Add 1/2 chard mixture, then 1/2 of the squash and 1/2 of the cheese. Repeat with remaining bread, squash and cheese. Pour remaining egg mixture over dish.

Cover bread pudding with foil and bake about 20 minutes. Remove foil and bake until custard is set and bread feels springy to the touch, about another 20 minutes.

Preheat broiler and broil pudding for 2 minutes, until cheese browns slightly. Allow to cool for 5 minutes before serving.

Spinach and Artichoke Bechamel Lasanga

Ok so this is not a weeknight lasagna by any stretch of the imagination, unless you are unemployed. (In which case, every night is a weekend. WOOO! Actually, folks, it's not that fun.) I would call this is more of a Martha Lasagna in that it takes 400 years to make, but has a big payoff--creamy, starchy goodness with some veggies thrown in for "health."

To make it I used this Betty Crocker recipe for inspiration. I just love old recipe books with splashes of sauce on them.



For help with the arrangement and sauce I used this recipe from the Cook's Illustrated website. You need to pay to access most of their recipes, but, honestly, I find that site so infuriating that it's not even worth it unless you can get one through dubious means. Which is, of course, what I did.

My problems with that site are many, but what bothers me most is that: number one: the design is like something out of a children's stencil book with a word document tacked on. Number two: there's no way to search recipes in order of date, and their catalog goes back so far that the first hit for spinach lasagna was one that called for Velveeta. VEL-frickin'-VEETA. Ok, Cook's is a little low-brow on purpose, but I can only assume that they haven't included a recipe with Velveeta in at least 15 years. Have they? :(



Anyway, the lasagna I made was loosely based on these two. I didn't use as much mozzarella as the Cook's recipe called for, mainly because I was tired. However, I'm glad I did skimp on it, because if there were any more dairy in the recipe it would be a recipe for making a cow.



I only used one can of artichokes, and I might consider using more if I made it again, especially because the acidity in them would cut some of the richness of the bechamel and 4 pounds of cheese. And yes, I know, canned artichokes are not fresh and whatever, but I have TRIED to use fresh artichokes in the past and it has never, EVER, been edible--even when I followed a six-part diagram of how to cut them. So there.



This baked up all poufy like a souffle, which was, admittedly, mildly scary, but very pretty. Maybe too much egg? Eh. Whatever.

Spinach and Artichoke Bechamel Lasagna

Bechamel

6 cups milk
1 cup butter
1 cup flour
1/8th tsp nutmeg
1 tsp salt
1 tsp pepper

Lasagna

1/4 c.vegetable oil
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 1/2 cup onion
1 1/2 lb. fresh spinach
1 or 2 cans of artichokes, drained and chopped
3/4 cup parsley
1 lb. ricotta cheese
2 eggs
1 1/2 c. grated Parmesan
1 c. grated mozzarella (it helps if you stick it in the freezer for a bit)
1 package lasagna noodles

For the sauce:

Heat milk until hot but not boiling. In another pan, melt butter and gradually whisk is flour. Cook 3 to 4 minutes, stirring constantly. Add milk slowly, whisking all the while. Stir until incorporated and sauce is thickened. Flavor to taste with nutmeg, salt and pepper.

Lasagna:

Put a large pan on to boil and preheat oven to 350 degrees. Saute garlic and onions until transparent, add spinach by the bunches with 1/2 c. parsley in the last addition. Allow to wilt and add artichokes. Heat through and set aside.

Mix rest of parsley and ricotta with eggs and half of Parmesan. Blanch lasagna noodles, about 2 minutes. Oil a large pan and layer the ingredients in this order: 1/2 to 2 cups Bechamel, then cover the pan with noodles (I used about 5), 1/2 of spinach and artichoke mixture, and all of mozzarella. Next, 1 1/2 to 2 cups of Bechamel, another layer of noodles, all the ricotta mixture and then the rest of the spinach and artichokes. Last, another 1 1/2 to 2 cups Bechamel, noodles, and then another layer of sauce. Sprinkle with remaining Parmesan.

Bake covered for 45 minutes. Uncover for the remaining 10 minutes. Allow to cool for 10 to 15 minutes before serving.

The Case of 68 Restaurant and the Inconsistent Dining Experience

I just cannot figure out why 68 Restaurant in Greenpoint is not a dining mainstay of North Brooklyn. Yelpers (that gilded fount of culinary expertise) seems to feel mainly ok to awesome about the place. Though there are a few exasperated "I am so over you" posts. Personally, I think the chef has some real talent, they offer great deals in addition to more than reasonably priced menu items, and the decor is fitting to the industrial venue without going overboard with North Brooklyn Baroque or whatever we want to call it.

That said, there are a few problems:

SERVICE

It's really hard to staff an inconsistently busy restaurant. I know. I've been there for brunch on days where there was only one waiter for a full restaurant. Of course service was slow that day! Poor guy! But I've also been when there were three servers for two tables, and, in that case, things were even more frustrating. Yes, it's hard to get a rhythm when you have one table--you don't want to be right in the diner's face all the time, so you need to spend some time hiding out somewhere. But. I feel like if my beer is empty when you walk by on the way back from your smoke break or wherever...maybe you should ask if I want another? More beers faster = bigger check = bigger tip. God, I feel dirty even bringing that up. Moving on.

KITCHEN

The flavors are always really great and sometimes even unexpected. Last time I was there I got butternut ravioli with walnuts and sage butter sauce. Really good. It sounds like a pretty run-of-the-mill winter/fall dish, but I found it super satisfying. My dinner companion ordered wild sea bass with brussels sprouts and saffron orzo (trying to remember here, apologies). The fish was cooked perfectly, and the accompanying flavors were succulent and bright at the same time.

However: Things sometimes seem like they've been hanging out under a heating lamp in the kitchen for a while. The edges of my ravioli were bordering on crispy, and I've been served eggs at 68 that had that weird film on them that eggs get when they sit for even a short time. This evidence, coupled with the fact that no matter how busy or slow, I always feel like I wait forever for food here, makes me call this problem plain ol' TIMING. Any home cook can crank out a dish at a time that tastes great; what sets restaurant chefs apart is that they can crank out lots and lots of them in an hour. Or should be able to.

MARKETING

I didn't even know that this place was called 68 Restaurant and not Coco 68 until I googled it for this post. I guess no one ever talks about it or something. I'll bet half the people who go to Coco 66 (the adjoining bar and original business in this space) don't even know there's a restaurant next door because there's NO SIGN. Yeah, I get it, not having a sign is cool. Well, you know what else is cool? Getting people to eat at your restaurant. On Coco 66's (mildly disastrous-looking) website, the restaurant has only the smallest mention-- in 12 point font--in the middle of a sea of other information. Help your Siamese twin out! Give her a mention at the top of the page! A tab! Something! Finally, 68, get yourself some press. Don't allow Yelp and one post from Greenpointers control your image (or lack thereof).

Anyway, I guess the reason I am being crazy about this is that I really like 68: I think it could be a go-to neighborhood spot. The food is well-conceptualized, the prices are fair, and, when they are either not bored to tears or waiting 25 tables of hungover people at once, the servers are really nice. I want it to succeed, but I can't quite figure out how it should launch itself out of this conundrum. I'm no restaurant consultant, so I don't really have the answers.

Maybe the problem is that I just keep coming in at weird times, and everything is just fine, thank you very much. Or maybe they should just change their name to sound a little less like 99 Restaurants--where my grandmother and I once had to promise not to sue in order to get our burgers medium rare...in retrospect eating those was probably a bad idea.

Rustic Wheat Bread

Like every other obnoxious Brooklyn/Cali foodie, after reading In Defense of Food by Michael Pollan (it's the short one) I was completely terrified by all the weird chemicals that are in basically every food (and especially "food") ever. Now, I've never been a big processed food eater, and I pretty much make everything from scratch due to the overwhelming guilt I would feel for taking a culinary shortcut. That's right, people, I make my own pie crust in order to avoid feeling guilty. Actually, the avoidance of guilt has been pretty helpful along the way in helping me make decisions. For realz!

What was I talking about? Oh. Chemicals.

Right. Well here's the deal--I was sitting around on my high horse while reading Pollan's book because I'm sooo virtuous and don't eat processed food (except for hot dogs on Kate's birthday) when I happened to take a look at the ingredients in my fancy twice-wrapped Healthy Multi-Grain bread. Ready?

Ingredients:
WHOLE WHEAT FLOUR, WATER, SUGAR, WHEAT GLUTEN, BROWN RICE, CORNMEAL, OATS, WHEAT BRAN, YEAST,

So far so good. Rice is a little weird...ok...but wtf are half of these things?

CELLULOSE FIBER, SOYBEAN OIL, BLACK & WHITE SESAME SEEDS, SALT, MOLASSES, CULTURED DEXTROSE AND MALTODEXTRIN, DATEM,MONO- AND DIGLYCERIDES, CALCIUM SULFATE, CITRIC ACID, POPPY SEEDS, GRAIN VINEGAR, SOY LECITHIN, NUTS (WALNUTS AND/OR HAZELNUTS AND/OR ALMONDS), WHEY, NONFAT MILK.


Hmm. Not so "healthy" after all. So, in a frenzy of righteousness, curiosity and just a shake of unemployed boredom, I decided to start making my own bread. I've been tweaking this recipe from Bittman's How to Cook Everything (a.k.a. the Bible) for several loaves now. It takes all told about five hours to make, but most of that time can be spent twittering or messaging people on facebook since the bread is just rising. The texture is not quite as elastic as normal supermarket bread, but it makes really tasty and satisfying sandwich bread and really good peanut butter toast when you come home wasted at 5am. *cough*





Rustic Wheat Bread
adapted from Mark Bittman's How to Cook Everything

makes 1 large loaf

1 c. wheat flour
2 1/2 c. white flour
2 tsp. salt
1 1/2 tap. instant yeast
2 TB honey
2 TB butter, cut into 1/4 in. cubes,
at room temperature, plus a bit more for the pan
1 1/3 c. (scant) cool whole milk

Place half the wheat and half the white flour in a small bowl and blend. Place other portions of flour and remaining ingredients in the bowl of a strong stand mixer. Mix on low until butter starts to become incorporated, then slowly add the remaining flour to the bowl. Continue to mix (you may have to steady the mixer with your hand) until a dough forms. Do not over-mix. Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured surface with a ramekin of extra flour set aside. Knead for about a minute or more, folding the dough over itself, adding flour to the board until the dough is smooth and no longer sticks to your hands as you work.

Lightly oil a large bowl and shape the dough into a ball. Let rise for 2 hours covered by plastic wrap, until the dough doubles in size. Once the dough rises, deflate it and reshape it on the same floured surface. Flatten it into a rectangle and then fold the sides under and pinch together to form a loaf shape. Butter a 8 x 4 inch pan and press the dough down into it with the back of your hand, seam side down. Cover with a towel and let rise for 1 to 2 more hours until nearly level with the top of the pan. Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Brush top with just a bit of water and place in the oven for 40-45 minutes.

When it's done the loaf will sound hollow if you tap it and the sides will pull just slightly away from the pan.

*P.S. The photo positioning was being an asshole. So I'm sorry if this posted to anyone's RSS 400 times.

Brunch at Radegast Beer Hall

A friend of mine recently had her birthday brunch at the Radegast Beer Hall in Wlliamsburg. Upon hearing about this, I thought it was a really great idea: what could be better after a night of dancing and drinking in Manhattan than a filling, satisfying beer and a sausage? Despite driving the wrong way down one of Greenpoint's sudden and pointless one way streets and almost being killed by the B43, we arrived in high spirits.

As soon as we sat down, our waitress--who by the way was totally, miraculously pulling off the biermaid outfit--informed us that the brunch menu over which we had been drooling was not really available because they were slammed by a wedding party. She said that the wait would be 40 minutes for anything off the menu, but we could go up and order from the sausage bar right away. We ordered cucumber bloody marys, beer, coffee and a water (for our wrong way driver) from her and began to deliberate on whether we wanted sausage bar or menu.

There were a number of things on the menu that we wanted to order, by which I mean basically everything except "Crispy Dumpling Cubes" which appear on that link, but I don't remember being there, because surely I would have made fun of them for being from the future or something (run-on!). Anyway, because we were super hungry we decided to share a few things from the sausage bar now and then share the menu items whenever they arrived. Beers and bloody marys (and, yes, that is the correct pluralization--I googled it) appeared with only moderate delay. No coffees or water though. Our waitress was gone before we could either ask about the missing beverages or order Gypsy Toast.

Well, we had booze anyway. Four sausages were procured from the grill--two bratwursts and two kielbasas--each coming with sauerkraut and fries. This little snack came to $35, or $8.75 a piece, which I thought was a little steep but more knowledgeable friends tell me is pretty much on par for similar establishments in Germany. I wasn't too crazy about the brat--it was a little dry, but the kielbasa was good and I discovered that fries soaked in sauerkraut is the new cheese fries with gravy/disco fries/poutin. For realz. I loved it. We started to look around for our waitress to either ask about the still AWOL coffees or about ordering from the menu (at this point, it had already been 40 minutes...so...uh...I guess we could have ordered off the menu). When what do we see behind us, but our waitress outside kissing and then walking off with her boyfriend!!! It was just like Grease!!! OMMGGG!! Wait. Where is my coffee?

Perhaps noticing our prolonged distress, another waitress came over and asked if we needed any more drinks. We ordered another round of whatever and FINALLY two Gypsy Toasts (half for the name alone, obviously) since we weren't really hungry enough anymore to each have a full German brunch. ($35 well spent then?). We also mentioned that we had been waiting for coffee, to which she replied, crankily, "Yeah, we're working on it." Ok...what kind of coffee takes 45 minutes? Must be really good.

She came back with more beer and no coffee but with an orange juice. Huh? Apparently orange juice is water in Germany. At this point I was losing interest in getting caffeinated, but still wanted coffee on principle. Anyway, I'll put you out of your misery. Yes, after AN HOUR a totally different waitress arrived with our coffee. And it was INSTANT. Not even drinkable instant. Not even with sugar and milk. Not by anyone. For christ's sake, I used to drink coffee in Ireland. I know about bad (but drinkable) coffee. This was not drinkable. I don't know how these people made their instant coffee taste so bad, or what took them an hour, but after all that fuss, no one even touched their coffee. I'm sure that pissed off waitress number three, but who cares. We were beginning to realize that the only way to deal with the situation was to laugh.

The Gypsy toast arrived, thankfully without stealing anyone's wallet or murdering any farmers. Apparently Gypsy just means...French? Who knew. It was actually very good--though by then I was way too full of beer and Kraut Fries to care. We actually had a pretty good brunch overall, perhaps because the only thing the waitresses seemed to be capable of paying attention to was the levels of our beer, but that's fine for a bier hall, I guess. All the food I tasted was really good (other than the dry brat) and the space had a really nice communal atmosphere. However, I took umbrage at the automatic 18% gratuity added on to our bill (we were 7 people). Now, I usually NEVER complain about that. Having been a waitress I know how much brunch sucks, and how often big groups of people will screw you over. I am totally in favor of this practice. This was the first time I would have considered leaving less than 18%. We were waited on by three different people, none of who seemed to give a crap how our meal was going, and no one apologized for the coffee taking an hour. There were always glasses all over the place, since we seemed to be seated in some sort of black hole of neglect. Seriously: if the service had been even moderately acceptable I would be back there every Sunday for brunch (with maybe some toast already in my belly to tide me over), but the service was so mind-numbingly awful that I just cannot recommend it to anyone or knowingly subject myself to that again. Sorry, Radegast.

Red Beet Risotto with Collard Greens and Goat Cheese

Back when I was a vegetarian, I came to love risotto because it was a nice reprise from all the nasty canned roasted red pepper and feta cheese (which I no long despise) smothered Boca burgers or whatever else passed for vegetarian food on menus. It was also the first dish I was able to conquer to the point of experimentation, purely because of its simplicity as a base. Just throw whatever the hell veggies and seasonings taste good on something else in a risotto and you've got a dish that's at least 75% new! Of course, now that I'm an omnivore one of my favorite risottos is chorizo--both because I love chorizo and because it turns the whole dish orange! Fun! Well beets are another way to turn your risotto (and your hands and countertops) a new color. It's like dyeing Easter Eggs! Hooray!



I based this recipe off of this one from Epicurious. I couldn't find mustard greens at my local market (but they had turnip greens...which seems more random) so I used collard greens because they remind me of that Decemberists song about the mom prostituting herself to sailors--and now I have it in my head. Otherwise, the ingredients are pretty much the same, but my method is a little different, the main divergences being that I toasted the risotto in the butter and also cooked it for longer. I know that risotto is supposed to be al dente just like pasta....but I kind of like mine mushy. Feel free to cook it until you like it, baby. You can also add about 1/2 c. white wine right before you add the broth if you have some hanging out or want an excuse to drink.



Oh, and P.S. I apologize for the return crappy photo quality. Some #$*@ stole my camera AT MY BIRTHDAY PARTY.

Red Beet Risotto with Collard Greens and Goat Cheese

1/4 c. butter
2 ( 2.5-3 inch diameter--remember your geometry!) red beets
1.5 c. chopped white onion
1 c. arborio rice
3 cups vegetable or chicken broth (I used chicken)
1 1/2 c. chopped collard greens, stems removed and chopped separately
1 5oz package of goat cheese, crumbled

Melt butter in heavy saucepan over med heat. Add beets, onion and collard green stems. Cover and cook until the onion is just about to go soft, then add arborio rice and toast. Put the broth in a saucepan and keep on low (really low) heat. Stirring fairly often to make sure it doesn't burn. Add enough broth to cover the mixture, and throw the lid on and stir occasionally. Once that broth has been absorbed, add half of the remaining broth, repeating with the last bit once that is absorbed. When you add the last measure of broth also add the chopped collard greens. When the rice is to your desired tenderness, turn off the heat and add in the goat cheese and salt and pepper to taste.

Tomato and Corn Pie

The Tomato and Corn Pie from August's Gourmet has been all over the internet with people freaking out about how awesome it is. It's a great, timely recipe for late summer (tomatoes AND corn, y'all!) and people like pies...I don't know. Anyway, I, too, was swept up in this whirl of excitement. However, one ingredient left me somewhere between hesitant and grossed out:


MAYONNAISE
Ew. Why is this in the pie?

Deb at Smitten Kitchen already covered this pie, and used the mayo. She also noted that Gourmet's original pie ended up a little soggy, so suggested coring the tomatoes. I didn't really want to loose the pretty tomato shape, so I decided to dry out the tomatoes on paper towels (believe me, this is coming back to the mayo problem, I promise).



Because of this, I figured that my pie would already be a little drier, and didn't want it to veer into stuck-to-the-roof-of-your-mouth territory. So I was wary of taking away any of the other wet elements and decided to look for a substitute. In the comments section of her post Deb recommended using sour cream instead. Ok, I thought, that's about 25% less gross. Keep in mind, I was making this for my two friends who are in the Women Who Are Uneasy About Creamy White Foods Club with me (we're looking at you whipped cream, mayo, yoghurt, and sour cream) so I was not only concerned for myself. Anyway, the solution was to sort of hide the sour cream from everyone (including me) until it was time to use it.

Putting the pie together was fun. I got to use my brand new pastry cutter (from the helpful people at Brooklyn Kitchen) to make the biscuity dough, and I also got to make pretty layers which indulged my inner aesthete. (Club slogan: Not much of an athlete? Become an aesthete.)



Anyway, here's the pie when it's done:



All in all it was pretty fabulous, especially with the farmer's market corn and tomatoes that I picked up that morning. I felt good about making something so seasonal and fresh. However, if I were to make it again, I would forget the creamy white substance all together. Even with drying out the tomatoes there was still enough moisture in the pie so that if you took out the sour cream/mayo you'd be well within the range of delicious. I'm not sure it adds anything, and it's guaranteed to gross out at least one person at your table.

I served this with some roasted salmon with herbs made by the wonderful Kate:



Tomato and Corn Pie
Gourmet August 2009
(slightly adapted)

2 cups all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon baking powder
1 3/4 teaspoons salt, divided
3/4 stick cold unsalted butter, cut into 1/2-inch cubes, plus 2 teaspoons melted
3/4 cup whole milk
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
1 3/4 pounds beefsteak tomatoes, peeled and sliced crosswise 1/4 inch thick, divided
1 1/2 cups corn (from about 3 ears), coarsely puréed in a food processor, divided
2 tablespoons finely chopped basil, divided
1 tablespoon finely chopped chives, divided
1/4 teaspoon black pepper, divided
7 ounces coarsely grated sharp Cheddar (1 3/4 cups), divided
Equipment: a 9-inch glass pie plate

To peel the tomatoes, slice an x in the bottom of each one and blanch in boiling water for ten seconds. Immediately plunge into an ice bath. Peel.

Whisk together flour, baking powder, and 3/4 teaspoon salt in a bowl, then blend in cold butter (3/4 stick) with your fingertips or a pastry blender until it resembles coarse meal. Add milk, stirring until mixture just forms a dough, then gather into a ball.

Divide dough in half and roll out 1 piece between 2 sheets of plastic wrap into a 12-inch round (1/8 inch thick). Remove top sheet of plastic wrap, then lift dough using bottom sheet of plastic wrap and invert into pie plate, patting with your fingers to fit (trim any overhang). Discard plastic wrap.

Preheat oven to 400°F with rack in middle.

Arrange half of tomatoes in crust, overlapping, and sprinkle with half of corn, 1 tablespoon basil, 1/2 tablespoon chives, 1/2 teaspoon salt, and 1/8 teaspoon pepper.

Repeat layering with remaining tomatoes, corn, basil, chives, salt, and pepper, then sprinkle with 1 cup cheese.

Roll out remaining piece of dough into a 12-inch round in same manner, then fit over filling, folding overhang under edge of bottom crust and pinching edge to seal.

Cut 4 steam vents in top crust and brush crust with melted butter (2 teaspoons).

Bake pie until crust is golden and filling is bubbling, 30 to 35 minutes, then cool on a rack. Serve warm or at room temperature.