As far as trendy foodie obsessions go, I am more of a pizza guy than a hamburger guy. I’m not as die-hard as some, but I have observed a number of the pizza-nerd pieties: I’ve eaten D.O.C. Pizza Margherita at Antica Pizzeria dell’Arte. I’ve waited two hours in line to try Roman pizza at Da Baffetto. During a short trip to New Haven, I ate at both Frank Pepe and Modern Apizza. I once walked across the Brooklyn Bridge in 100° weather and spent all the cash in my wallet to eat at Grimaldi’s. I have also spent a significant amount of time trying to perfect Neapolitan pizza in my home oven; some of these efforts are documented on this very blog.

Minneapolis, my home of one and a half years, is not known as a pizza city, but I have been pleasantly surprised by the pizza available here. First and foremost there is Punch Pizza, which makes the best pizza I have ever had outside of Italy–possibly even inside of Italy. I have eaten at Punch more times than anywhere else;we are very lucky in the Twin Cities to have not just one  great Neapolitan pizzeria, but a whole chain of them. I have also tried and enjoyed Galactic Pizza, which has the advantage of being close to my house and delivered in electric cars by superheroes.

My preferences in pizza run strongly Italian, but I’m definitely not one of those jerks who doesn’t consider deep-dish to be real pizza (in fact I strongly recommend the deep dish from Little Star in San Francisco). I like to keep an open mind; Dara’s pizza personality test classified me as ANCS-The Different Drummer. Apparently my  ideal Twin Cities pizza comes from Crescent Moon. I have yet to take the Afghan pizza plunge, I do like to try as many different kinds of pizza as I can. With that attitude of openness and thirst for discovery, this afternoon I tried for the first time what I have heard referred to as “Minnesota-style” pizza, courtesy of Red’s Savoy Pizza.

I’ll admit that my decision to try Red’s was largely a matter of convenience; I had been somewhat intrigued by the restaurant after reading a review on Slice, but it was not until they opened a location in the Golooney’s space only a few blocks from my apartment that I decided I would go and try it. I walked there, ordered a sausage pie (for control purposes, when tasting a new non-Neapolitan pizza I order sausage or pepproni, for Neapolitan pizzas Margherita) and after waiting a while I eagerly walked home with a piping hot pie.

Opening the box, I made two observations: one, this pizza was cut into squares. Apparently, that is a Minnesota thing–maybe they wanted make pizza more like bars. The problem with cutting a pizza into squares is that it creates awkward little corner pieces and a number of pieces that don’t have any crust to serve as a handle, necessitating the use of a fork. I was also surprised to see the giant brown spots in the center of the pizza; at first I thought they were some unrequested topping but then realized it was just huge swaths browned cheese.

Crust. If I had to compare the crust of Red’s Savoy’s pizza to any, I’d say it reminded me most of cheap frozen pizza crust. That is not a bad thing; I like cheap frozen pizza. And I’m not saying that it was actually frozen: I saw them tossing the fresh dough. Whatever is in that dough, it produces no puffy cornicione; rather, the crust is cracker thin and quite crispy and burnt on the edge. As one approaches the center, the crust becomes soggier, chewier and more cardboard-like.  Charring was limited to the edge, with the rest of the crust a pale brown. The crust was more of a vehicle for the toppings than an end in itself, but I did really enjoy the crispiness of the edges. I also thought it was overfloured, but I can forgive that because I am myself often guilty of using ample flour to ensure smooth separation of the dough from the peel. Still, raw flour isn’t especially tasty.

Sauce. This pizza is heavily sauced, so much so  that great pools of the stuff are visible on the edges and spill onto the pizza box. That’s okay since the sauce is delicious; very thick and meaty, like a red sauce you would eat on spaghetti rather than a pizza sauce. Its texture at times was almost squishy. It had good flavor: a little cooked-tasting but pleasantly spicy.

Cheese. The first thing to be said about cheese on this pizza is that there is a lot of it. I mean a lot of it. There is so much cheese that it bonds with the box and slips off of the crust as you try to pull a piece a way. There is so much cheese that it forms its own super-layer that is independent of the rest of the pizza. In fact, if there is one thing that seemed to distinguish this style of pizza it is the amount of cheese. As long as the cheese remained warm and gooey it was good and comforting but it became a bit disconcerting as it started to congeal. Must eat faster!

Sausage. The sausage was spicy and had the right amount of grease, which is to say plenty of grease. Red’s puts toppings on top of the sauce and covers the whole thing with cheese, rather than putting toppings on top of the cheese. I favor the latter approach since I think it actually binds the toppings in better (the cheese bubbles up around them). As it was, it was hard to keep the toppings and cheese on top of the crust without using a fork.

From the breakdown above you might get the idea that I didn’t like Red’s Savoy pizza, but actually I thought it was pretty good; definitely a case where the experience of eating it makes it more than the sum of its parts. Red’s Savoy probably won’t unseat Punch in terms of my favorite pizza in the Twin Cities, but I would eat it again. Particularly if I had been drinking. Based on this experience, my overall impression of ‘Minnesota’ pizza is: cracker thin crust, lots of sauce and even more cheese, and squares.

The Midtown Farmers’ Market has settled into that easy summer rhythm where each week there are some new vegetables, some that have been around for a while are gone, but mostly you can buy more of what was good the week before. So while the greens (spinach, kale) are somewhat less abundant (and, consequently, I didn’t have to spend two hours this morning washing greens), the potatoes and zucchini are bigger, the first eggplant are available, and broccoli has been joined by its old friend cauliflower.

Strawberries were even more abundant than last week, with several vendors to choose from. I don’t remember the name of the farm we bought this week’s strawberries from but it is the same people who I bought a lot of apples from last fall; they know very well that if they offer free samples the fruit will sell itself. It is tempting to turn this batch of strawberries into sorbet, but I am determined to do something else with them this week: perhaps strawberry shortcake.

Peas are still widely available, though perhaps getting a bit tougher and starchier. I got English shell peas this week instead of sugar snap peas, so Martha and I had a fun time shelling peas and chasing them around the floor of our apartment.

Martha enjoyed observing the architecture of each shell’s interior: four peas per side, each with a very small point of connection to the body of the shell. A late lunch is on its way; we’ll be finishing off last week’s vegetables with a stir fry of broccoli, onion, kohlrabi, and daikon.

If you haven’t seen it already, read the New York Times “Refreshing by Definition” on the essentials of summer cocktails. Lots of our favorites are there: mint, basil, lemons and limes, cola (specifically Coca-Cola, of course), and a muddler (thanks Mari) for all that mint and basil. Just as we’ll be using summer’s fruits in sorbet throughout the next few months, the “essentials” also offers up melons, peaches, and others for use in cocktails.

To their essentials, I would add varied bar/glassware for serving. What’s a liquid without a container, anyway? A puddle. That’s what. Below is a quick roundup of easily accessible glassware for summer entertaining. Whether you shop online, downtown, or at the mall there should be one that works for you. Of course, sticking with what you have is also a great option. Our handblown blue glass tumblers from Cuenca, Spain are a favorite of mine.

Short or tall, there are a lot of good choices out there. If you like blue glass, Crate&Barrel can satisfy for only $1.95 per with their Cobalt Glass family. Also on sale is Pottery Barn’s Rustica Barware, which comes in sets of six in a choice of colors (including blue). For those who like to buy handmade, check out Vital Home on Etsy for some fun screenprinted bicycles on the side of your cocktail, also available in tumbler size. Getting a little fancier and a little more Scandinavian, try these delicate iittala Aino Aalto tumblers (available online and at Finnstyle in downtown Minneapolis) which come in a number of great muted colors. Finally, they may be clear, but West Elm’s recycled glass drinkware has that greenish, coke-bottle coloring inherent in thick, recycled glass and perfect for serving any mojito or margarita.

Since the bánh mì is the sandwich of the moment–with a New York Times article and plenty of blog coverage–I thought I’d add my voice to the chorus.

My relationship with the venerable Vietnamese sandwich started well before I knew its name, when Emeril Lagasse (a man who I am not ashamed to admit inspired me to cook in a big way) featured a recipe for “Vietnamese-style Poor Boys” on one of his many Food Network shows. Emeril was taking a bit of liberty with his nomenclature, but I recognized a good thing when I saw it and made this sandwich several times over the years. My other bánh mì breakthrough was when I began working as a cook at Blackbird Café in Minneapolis, which features a pretty excellent version on its menu. Nothing like making a sandwich a hundred times to come to appreciate its nuances.

So there are my two big influences in banh mi-making: a creole TV chef and a South Minneapolis neighborhood restaurant. I’ve never been to Vietnam. But, great food knows no borders–earlier this week I set out to make my banh mi from scratch.

As with any sandwich this popular and widespread, or any sandwich at all for that matter, there is no exact consensus on what ingredients go in it. But from my experience eating the sandwiches, I knew what I wanted: liver pâté, roast and pulled pork, pickled carrots and daikon, sliced cucumber, cilantro, jalapeño and mayo all on a baguette-style roll.

Just as every house needs a foundation, every great sandwich needs to be built from a strong, tasty base; the first thing to tackle was the bread. Because it works very well for me, I used my standard sourdough bread recipe, which consists of mostly white flour with a little wheat flour thrown in and is hydrated to about 68%. This produces a nicely airy crumb while not being so wet as to be unworkable. After the initial rise I cut off 8 0z pieces and shaped them into rough bâtards. After a rest, a slash and 20 minutes on a 450° baking stone, I had respectable rolls on which to build my sandwich.

Although some restaurants omit it, in my mind liver pâté is essential to a great bánh mì–something about its rich fattiness and that funky liver flavor. Ever since finding an old copy of Terrines, Pâtés and Galantines in an antique store in Red Wing, MN I have been thoroughly immersed in the world of potted meats. Since it was going to be a spread for my sandwich, I needed to make a smooth pâté, rather than my usual chunky, rustic terrines. A food processor made this really easy: chunks of lamb liver, chunks of pork fat, spices are pureed in a matter of seconds. (Not really a process for the squeamish, you’re basically making liquid meat). If I were really anal retentive (ok, more anal retentive) I would have passed the resulting puree through a drum sieve to make sure it was perfectly smooth. To cook the pâté, without overcooking it, I utilized a double boiler. I cooked the ruby mixture until it had become more beige and granular and looked done. Pâté!

With the pâté resting in the refrigerator developing its wonderful flavors, it was time to tackle what is in some ways the star of the show: the pork. The question of the preparation of the pork is another area where pretty much everybody differs, but I fell back to experience. For one thing, I know that I prefer tender pulled pork to pork cooked more quickly.  Many of the bánh mì I have tried seem to use some kind of hoisin barbecue sauce, but I just rubbed the meat with salt, pepper and chinese five-spice. The warm, sweet spices are already somewhat present in the pâté and complement the heat of jalapeños.

Since the chunks of pork form a craggy, uneven layer, for a level sandwich you need something to build up while filling the cracks. This is where I like to bring in the pickled carrots. Since there was daikon at the farmers’ market, I used that as well (apparently this is traditional), shredding both.

I fell in love with making quick pickles at Blackbird. It’s as easy as taking a vegetable, cutting it into small pieces (or shredding), tossing it with a hot pepper, a garlic clove, whole peppercorns, coriander seed, and/or whatever other pickling spices call to you, and pouring boiling vinegar, water, salt and sugar over it all, then letting it sit in the refrigerator over night. I put a lot of sugar in to make a sweet pickle, since pork loves sweet things.

With a solid level built up by my pickled roots, I was ready to stack on the fresh vegetables. This was the only part of the process that felt like cheating since I didn’t have to do anything except for clean and cut the vegetables–it felt like it would have been more “from scratch” to have grown them myself. But since I won’t be growing hot peppers in my northern-exposed apartment windows anytime soon, store vegetables would have to do. It’s not like I raised the pig.

Thick slices of cucumber are essential to cool your tongue from the punishment meted out by thin slices of jalapeño. If you are one of those unfortunate individuals to have been cursed by God with a distaste for cilantro,that’s too bad, because the best bánh mìs pile it on, both the fragrant leaves and the crunchy stems.

With the sandwich elements perfectly balanced structurally, there remained only to add the finishing touch to top it all off and bind it all together: mayonnaise.

Mayonnaise can be put together from scratch really easily and can taste a bit richer and have a silkier texture than the heavily processed stuff from the jar (but honestly, if it weren’t for the ‘from-scratch’ gimmick behind this post, I probably would have whipped out the Hellmann’s). It’s just a matter of whisking an egg yolk with some lemon juice, salt, pepper and sugar and then slowly whisking in olive oil until you have mayonnaise.

And so, applying the top piece of bread, I had the scratch bánh mì: built from the ground up, each element custom designed to my exacting specifications. Was it worth it? Well besides the fact that it was more like fun than work to build each element of the sandwich, the sandwich itself was very good; I wouldn’t to call it “the ultimate bánh mì” because I have yet to meet a bánh mì I didn’t like. With pork, pâté, cool cucumbers, jalapeños, fragrant cilantro, sweet pickled carrots and rich mayonnaise on good bread you can’t go wrong. So while I instinctively bristle at all the hype, there is scarcely a sandwich that deserves it more than the bánh mì.

In celebration of the official start of summer (and as a result of the horrid levels of heat/humidity in Minneapolis), this weekend we broke out the ice cream maker. As Tom mentioned, we took home a pint of strawberries from the Midtown Farmer’s Market and they were starting to get a little funky after a couple of days in this heat. I spent some time hulling the teeny tiny somewhat rotten (I mean really ripe!) strawberries while Tom prepared a simple syrup on the stove with ½ cup of of water and ½ cup of sugar. When the strawberries were ready, Tom pureed them in the food processor and added the syrup, tasting for sweetness as he went. When the mixture was just right, we poured it into a bowl to refrigerate overnight. The next day, after just 15 minutes of going round and round in our Krups GVS142 the sorbet was ready to go in the freezer awaiting the dessert hour.

It was so red! And so delicious! I’m so glad we gave our ice cream (and sorbet) maker a second try. Though we’ve had it for a year, we haven’t used the thing much and so far have felt a bit of single-purpose-kitchen-electronics-buyer’s-remorse. After reading a glowing review of this model in Cook’s Illustrated, I had to have it, and was very disappointed when I realized Krups had stopped making it–hence eBay. After two lost auctions, I won the third and was ready to present Tom with the surprise. In the end, the quality of the ice cream we made last summer didn’t seem worth the effort; plus, loads of heavy cream and whole milk took up too much space in the fridge. It seemed easier to just buy our ice cream and sorbet by the pint or half-gallon when the mood struck. We’ve shared with you our love for Talenti in the past, and homemade ice cream just wasn’t reaching that level. BUT. We never tried making sorbet. So far, our homemade ice cream hasn’t convinced us to skip the grocer’s freezer, but homemade sorbet puts even Talenti to shame. I can’t wait to see what other fresh fruit the market will bring.