In which we Curry Favor

Heh. See what I did there?

I am very sorry to anyone who might read this - I did not cook this week hardly at all. However, in my defense, I did work late 4 nights out of 7 -- Tuesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday. And I am cooking tonight. So.... at least there's that. Plus, Monday night I was suffering from the end of a serious personal disturbance, given to me at the hands of my friends, who got me righteously wasted for my birthday on Sunday. So really, that only leaves Wednesday, and Wednesday I was so burned out and exhausted that my plan to make falafel definitely fell by the wayside.

However, tonight I made up for it. I made curry. From scratch. Like.... I didn't make my own garam masala or anything, because I don't have that kind of time - plus, I don't know what my own personal curry spice blend would be.... having never made it before and not having an Indian grandmother to teach me about it. So, I bought garam masala from Whole Foods, among other ingredients, and set to work. I generally wouldn't have made something like this, from scratch, because I found a brand of curry sauce that is so delicious, and all you really have to do is add your protein, vegetables, tomato paste and coconut milk, and let it bubble away until you're ready to eat. But, I decided it was about time I learned, or at least tried, to make it.

We decided on lamb curry, because we've been kind of low on red meat in our lives, and that's not so fun. So - lamb. I found the recipe for this curry on this website, and decided to go for it. I was a little apprehensive, but what the hell -- Jesse would probably eat it anyways.

First, I made the Curry Masala gravy, which I guess was like a flavor base that got added to the curry as it was cooking - it was basically onions, tomatoes, garlic, spices, and water.



It cooked down until it was all soft and mushy, and then Jesse blended it up with our immersion blender, until it was a thick sauce. You're supposed to do it in a food processor, but for all intents and purposes, we don't have one of those. (We do, but it's teeny tiny and a bitch to clean).

Meanwhile, I sauteed some onions, garlic, ginger, green pepper, and a poblano pepper (de-seeded/de-veined) until they were squishy, and added a pound of cubed lamb stew meat. In retrospect, I think that stew meat was the wrong choice - but I'm not sure what would be the right choice, unless I chose to simmer that curry for a couple extra hours. Basically, it was good, but it wasn't the ideal piece of meat for a reasonably quick (inside an hour and a half) curry. Next time.... next time.

Anyways, this is what it looked like while simmering away with its tomato puree and tomatoes and stuff:



I eventually added some coconut milk as well, so that you tasted "warm" instead of spicy.... because that's how I roll.

I made some basmati rice with coconut milk as well, and this is what it looked like served up:



It was yummy - Jesse couldn't wait to eat it!!



He's so cute. And dinner was quite yummy. And on that note, I am going to bed, because this coming week, we get our sexy back, and start cooking every night that I'm not working again. It's about durn time!!!

In which we're kind of a big deal.

Yesterday was my birthday. Jesse took me out to a restaurant that I'd wanted to go to for almost 6 months. It was worth the wait. But we'll get to that in a moment.

Thursday night, I made a Hot Brunette sandwich -- a riff on a Kentucky Hot Brown. If any of you are from Kentucky, I fully admit that this is not a Hot Brown. Hence, the "Hot Brunette". You will be able to order this at Two Chairs from open to close, once we get Two Chairs open.

The basic Hot Brown is toast, with sliced turkey and bechamel. You put that under the broiler until the bechamel (which has shredded parm in it) gets all browned and speckly. Then, you top the sandwich with two slices of bacon.

I decided to take this a few steps further. I started the same way, toast and turkey, and I added some sliced Heirloom (Uglyripe, for those keeping score) tomato. Then, the bechamel, and under the broiler. While they broiled, I poached 2 eggs. However, our broiler was being finicky, and I couldn't get them to the desired level of brown-ness before the broiler shut down each time.
Anyways. Once they came out, I topped them with the poached egg, bacon and some more bechamel.

Loooook..... Preeeeety!!!




They were pretty damn good. Especially with a Brooklyn Brown beer. Yum.

Last night, Jesse took me to Butter for my birthday. I've wanted to go to this restaurant since I saw the head chef, Alexandra Guarnaschelli, on Iron Chef. She's sick. She's also an excellent judge on Iron Chef. Originally, I didn't know that we were going there -- I thought we were going to Republic, a favorite low-price restaurant of ours, and that we'd go to Butter later on sometime, when we both had a little more flow. But, Jesse decided to throw caution to the winds, and took me there.

The food was amazing. I'm not sure I can give you details of everything, because I'd like to savor the memories for as long as possible. After our expertly trained waitress helped us pick our dinners, and while we waited for our starter, we received two pieces of bread each (one cornbread, and an artisinal loaf), along with two pats of gorgeous butter. Trust me, this was a thing of beauty. No wonder they named the restaurant after it.
While eating those, a runner came by with a mushroom croquette (compliments of the chef for every table) -- I'm guessing either she was trying out a new appetizer, or she was just feeling feisty and had to use up her mushroom supply. Either way -- this was basically a religious experience. I dont' know what was in there, and I'm not sure I'd even want to find out, although basically, it was a falafel with a base of mushroom instead of chickpea. Sick. SO good.
Then, our deep-fried soft-shell crabs arrived. They were also amazing, and I think there was a tempura batter involved. So delicious -- I can't believe we ordered them, frankly.

Our meals were exquisite -- I had roasted duck breast with caramelized cippolini onions and a rhubarb sauce. It was amazing, and I learned that medium rare is the way to eat duck. Don't let anyone tell you different.

Jesse had roasted monkfish, with mushrooms, clams, and apples. It was also beautiful. We also split a side order of macaroni and cheese, in the spirit of research of course. It was transcendent. Lots of parmesan in the sauce. I got one perfect bite at the end, which had the crumbs, some crispy cheese, and a delicious bite of the sauce. It was perfect. She uses elbows -- I use farfalle. Next time, I'll try elbows and parm maybe.

After we surrendered to our meals (he ate all of his, I had a valiant go of mine but didn't quite manage it.), the dessert menu came out. The waitress told me that since it was my birthday, I had to have dessert. I was sunk the second I saw the first item on the menu -- raspberry beignets.

I'm a sucker for anything deep-fried, and while I detest donuts, I'll walk over hot coals for a fresh, warm beignet or zeppole. I also ordered a french press of coffee, for $3.50. It was funny, Jesse mentioned something last Sunday which rang true I guess last night -- he and I pay 3 times as much for a pound of coffee as we do for a bottle of wine. I guess that might be why last night, instead of ordering a bottle of wine, we got cocktails - which ended up being more expensive than a bottle of wine would have been. And my coffee was much less than a bottle of wine - yet somehow considering that we pay 4 dollars a bottle for wine and 12 dollars a pound for coffee, a 3.50 french press (2 and a half cups of coffee) was a way better deal in our minds than a bottle of wine. Crazy, right? When the french press arrived, I assumed that the waiter would just put it down and let me do wht I wanted with it -- which is the way I like it, because I find pressing a french press to be very zen. And as every good barista knows, you bruise the coffee if you press it too fast. But this guy just jammed the french press down for me, and I swear to you, I grimmaced. I almost passed out. It was DISTRESSING. But, I managed -- and decided that all the sugar at Two Chairs will be in cubes, and we will only have ONE choice of sweetener for those who are diabetic. None of this Splenda/Equal/Sweet & Low crap. ONE. You can't eat my cooking and then put Sweet & Low in your coffee. It doesn't work.

Anyways. The beignets were insane -- the best part of a jelly doughnut, only better, and there was this vanilla cream dipping sauce that was just.... I wanted to keep eating it with a spoon. But I was so full, I had to pass up Jesse's offer of something chocolatey from Max Brenner to end the night, which was a real shame.
The check came with two chocolates -- dark chocolate with a salted butter rum caramel center. Insane. So good I looked on the website later and found you could order boxes of 12 of them. This is bad news.

Anyways, that was my amazing birthday dinner which my wonderful amazing boyfriend engineered for me. I'm not sure I'll be able to top this for his birthday, and I've already seared him tuna steaks and made him steak au poivre.... what next?!

Tonight, hopefully, after I get home I'm going to try falafel again. We'll see, and as always, I'll keep you posted.

In which I fakey-bakey some Ziti.

I love baked ziti. I don't like making it because it takes forever to make. So I make the fakety bakety kind which tastes just as nice, and doesn't require nearly as much crap and waiting around. It's about 65 degrees right now in Brooklyn, not exactly ideal weather for something warm and tomatoey and baked.... but frankly it's pretty delicious so I'm ok with bucking the weather.

I even have measurements.
Be impressed.

My fakey bakey ziti involves two sauces, and lots of cheese. I make a basic meat sauce (very basic) and a bechamel (also very basic) and I layer them with the pasta like with lasagna, with lots of shredded mozzarella and shredded parmesan. It's delicious. DEEEEE-licious.

Josie's Fakey-Bakey Ziti

1. Roughly chop 1 big shallot, and mince 1 clove of garlic. Put them in a skillet to soften in about 1 tablespoon of butter and the same of olive oil. Add some salt. Grab 1 pound of ground beef (I used 90% lean) out of the fridge, and throw it in with the shallot and garlic. Let it brown, while you open a big can (28 oz) of Fire-Roasted Tomatoes (Muir Glen makes these. They're better than regular tomatoes. Really). Also, put a large pot of water on to heat.

2. Once the meat is mostly browned, pour the crushed Fire Roasted Tomatoes into the pan, and heat two tablespoons of butter and roughly one and a half of olive oil in another saucepot. Sprinkle in two tablespoons (roughly) of flour and whisk until it looks like meltey butter only thicker. Then, pour in two and a half cups of milk, whisking until there's pretty much no unincorporated roux left.

3). Simmer the tomatoey sauce for the rest of the time. Bring the bechamel to a simmer, and let it thicken. While it's thickening, your water should be at a boil, so you should drop your pasta. I used about a pound and a quarter of whole wheat/flax penne rigate. You could use one pound of plain penne rigate and just get more sauce. It's up to you.

4). When the bechamel has thickened to about when it coats the back of a spoon, stir in about a half-cup of shredded parmesan (big shreds. Use the pre-shredded kind. If you have little shreds, then only a quarter-cup). Drain the pasta once it's *mostly* done -- you want it a little less than al dente. Heat your oven up to about 450.

5). Pour 2 ladlefuls of bechamel into the bottom of a baking pan. Then, add a layer of penne, and a layer of meat sauce (this is a lot like lasagne). Sprinkle with shredded mozzarella. As much as you think is necessary. Then, another layer of bechamel. ANother layer of pasta. Another layer of meat sauce. Any left over bechamel. Mozzarella. Shredded parmesan. Until it looks good to you.

6). Put it in the oven until the sauce is bubbling and the cheese is all meltey on top, and a bit golden brown.

This is what mine looked like:



Yummmmm. Warm and cheesey and saucey. And left-overy. YAAAYYY!!!

See, look! I not only gave you pictures, I also gave you measurements! I made a dish that I worked really hard to make replicable! Yaaaay Meeeee!!!

Also, special shout-out to my parents, for reading this blog. Thanks for teaching me how to cook. :)

Wanna see my Mussels?

I saw a recipe in Bon Apetit for Mussels, that involved sake and hot Thai chiles, and as a theory, it sounded delicious. However, I've never had sake. And while I do love wine, I'm not 100% sure my feelings on Sake. Mostly because y'know.... I've never had it.
Also, I don't 100% love speecy spicy food. So basically, it was a bit of a risk for me to try and make the mussel dish. But I was thinking about mussels anyways. Then, yesterday, in Whole Foods on a rogue trip, I saw bags of mussels, for a very reasonable price, just sitting on ice all beautiful and shiny. It got them in my head again.

Last night, I kind of lobbied for Mussels to be tonight's dinner.

Whole Foods had them for about.... 4 dollars for a 2-lb bag. Of fresh Maine mussels. This was good shit. So we bought them, along with some nice dry white wine, and some curly parsley, shallots, and bread. You don't need anything else to make mussels, except maybe some garlic.
Sidenote - while I was standing perusing the bread selection at Whole Foods -- and I'll admit that I'm the jackass that squeezes every loaf and tries to find one that sounds right, smells right, etc. -- I deemed pretty much every baguette there to be either a). seeded/multigrain, b). sourdough, (which is delicious, but not what I want) or c). thoroughly lackluster. Then, all of a sudden, out of the corner of my eye I saw a woman reloading the bread holders. Right there in front of me were several to many beautiful fresh hot baguettes that were still crispy and hadn't gotten soft or soggy from being put hot into paper bags and left to languish on the racks. I immediately grabbed two in addition to the beautiful round bread that I'd chosen for tonight's dinner. I even unknowingly convinced the woman standing in line next to us to grab one for herself -- she had a chunk torn out to eat before she was even fully back to her cart. I love New York.
So, Jesse and I sat in Union Square, listening to a boy with an accordion and a girl with a guitar sing olde-tyme country songs (think the Carter family, and standards like "Look on the sunny side") in a kind of bluegrassy/1940's radio way, and eating one of those lovely baguettes with a wonderful soft cheese that we'd bought as an homage to the days when 1/3 of our food budget every time we shopped was cheese. It was such a beautiful moment. I loved it. I never wanted it to end. -- Also, the boy and girl had a La Squisita tomatoes can out, and a sign on the boy's accordion case that said "Proceeds to OBAMA" and I fell for them. 3 dollars I gave them. Love.

Then I came home and eventually set to the mussels. The recipe was stupidly simple, an element that I love. Basically, you chop up two garlic cloves, and smush them around with your knife's flat side and some salt until they're pastey. Then, you roughly chop up one big shallot. Cook that in olive oil until the shallots get soft - about 4 minutes? Just enough time for you to sort through your mussels (about 2lbs is good) and THROW AWAY ANY THAT ARE ALREADY OPEN. This is an indicator of dead mussels -- not good times before you kill them by boiling them.
Anyways.

Once the shallots are soft, add about a cup and a half of dry white wine, and bring to a boil. I used a large flat-bottomed, straight-sided skillet for this. When it boils, dump in all your (closed) mussels, and cover. Let this boil until all the mussels open up - this usually takes about 6 minutes apparently. While this is happening, feel free to pour a glass of wine, if you're the drinkin' type. Consequently, if you're not, you can probably use chicken broth and lemon juice and get a pretty tasty variation.
While the mussels are steaming, you can also chop up your loaf of beautiful bread (preferably crusty) and throw it under the broiler until it's time to take the mussels out. When they're all open (THROW AWAY ANY THAT DON'T OPEN!!!), take them out with a slotted spoon, and put them in a large bowl (possibly the one that you used to sort them in the first place, only washed out now). Put 2 tablespoons of butter, some chopped parsley, salt and pepper, and boil the sauce until it reduces about 1/4. I didn't do the reducing, and in retrospect, it would have been a good idea. I just kind of waited for the butter to melt, and while that was happening, I took the bread out, drizzled it with a little olive oil, and sprinkled on a little salt and pepper.

This is what it looked like:




I prettied it up by putting the bread in the metal bowl - you use the bread to soak up the saucy juicy bits after you've eaten some of the mussels. It might even be better than the mussels themselves. But not quite.

As evidence, this is what it looked like after, for possibly the first time ever, I ate more than Jesse:



That's right. We polished off two pounds of mussels. I probably ate more than Jesse. If I'd let the sauce reduce more, there wouldn't be that much left.

This would also be delicious with pasta of some sort. Probably Linguine - a riff on linguine with clams. In fact, this is a pretty shmancy dish called "Moules Meunieres" -- steamed mussels in wine and butter sauce. Which is what we have here. For a little spiciness, which I'd recommend, crushed red pepper flake would be nice.

I loved this.

I'm so happy I made it. Because even if Jesse and Kristin didn't enjoy it.... for whatever reason.... I loved it and I'm happy and fulfilled. A good way to be.

So on that note, good night folks, until next time.... In which we bid winter goodbye with the last "warm & hearty" meal of the season -- baked ziti. Heh.

The things I succeed at, and one at which I fail.

I'm quite a competent cook. I have enough skill, competence and imagination to be able to cook lots of things. I can make things up on the fly, and I can follow a recipe. I'm a pretty darn good cook.

Friday, I made some pretty bitchin' burgers for dinner. It seems to be a thing with us.... but they're so delicious that Friday Night Burger Night doesn't seem like such a bad idea. These burgers had shredded gruyere in the middle. I have to figure out how to seal the burgers so the cheese is a pocket, not a clump.
Clearly I must study Keetha's work more closely. And ask her for tips. Lots of tips.

But they were still quite the yum.

Saturday, there was no dinner. Jesse and I were going to make something he'd found online - the Hot Brown - as a kind of "bistro supper", which is fancy shmanss for dinner after midnight. But, I didn't get out of work until after the Food Emporium had closed.... so unfortunately, there was no din din that night.

Sunday though, I did something that I love to do. I roasted a chicken before I went to work at 3, and made my kind of potato salad.
There is potato salad, and potato salad. And then there is the way I like potato salad. I don't like lots of mayonnaise. In fact, I don't like mayonnaise at all. I make mine with lots of little potatoes, as opposed to big Idaho potatoes. I buy the bag of tiny potatoes in red, white, and purple that Whole Foods sells. I cut them into quarters, because I really like bite-size bits. I boiled them in salted water, and then made a vinaigrette of olive oil, white balsamic, garlic, thyme, mustard, and scallion. I threw it in the fridge and let it sit while I went to work.

When I got home, we took some of the chicken, and some of the salad, plus a bottle of wine, up onto our roof, and enjoyed the beautiful weather and watched the sun set and said hello to Manhattan and Brooklyn. It was wonderful.

And yes, I will admit, we ended up drinking a second bottle of wine up there. And watching our neighbor shoot firecrackers off hte roof. It was funny.

Tonight, I made chicken salad with the chicken that was left (and I will soon make stock with the carcass). I used a similar vinaigrette, and added a little mayonnaise for thickener. It was pretty darn delicious. I'm really excited to eat the rest of it.


Jesse and I were thinking about things to make this week, and I mentioned that I love falafel. I've never been able to make any to my liking. I've had lots of good falafel, including the bitchin' stuff that I had today at lunch.
I have read about 65 recipes on Falafel. I've made the recipe from the Culinary Institute of America textbook. I've made them like meatballs. I've added egg. I've added no egg. Breadcrumbs. No breadcrumbs. About a million different varieties. They either don't stick together, or they're so sticky it doesn't work out. I've rolled them in flour. I've rolled them in breadcrumbs. I've made patties, balls, I've shallow fried them, and contemplated deep frying them. Basically, I cannot make falafel. It's really frustrating too, because I love falafel. Every time I eat it, I want to eat it for 3 days in a row. I'll probably have it again tomorrow, because it's so good. I wish I could do it at home. If anyone has any insight, I'd be thrilled. I need just a little help because I'm almost there, which I can tell. I'm just not really sure what I'm missing. I need to learn. It's frustrating.

This week, we will possibly have another go at falafel. Hopefully I will photograph it. Hopefully it will be ok. If it's not, maybe somebody can help me out. Go to it, foodies. GO GO GO!!!

In which we find the Buffalo's Wings.

There has been much cooking since last I posted. Never y'all fear.

On Friday, we had planned to entertain some friends with macaroni & cheese, beer, and board games, but those plans fell through. Instead, Jesse and I went to a personal favorite restaurant, French Roast, for steak frites, steak au poivre, and creme brulee. It was fabulous.

Saturday night I worked late, as will be the norm until June.

Sunday, after working again, I made Friday night's Roni Cheese. I feel like this was my best crispy crust ever, mostly because I think the sauce didn't reduce enough, which meant that it could sit under the broiler a little longer to get crispy. Plus, I used freshly grated Parmigiano Reggiano as opposed to canned or pre-grated parm. Huge difference, I feel.
Anyways, it was pretty delicious and while I'm sad that we couldn't have Steele and Laura over for dinner to enjoy it too, at least it was delicious.

Monday, I made a recipe from Rachael Ray's 365 No Repeats, which is one of my older, and favorite cookbooks. It was: Fresh Tomato and Basil Chicken, with Super-Creamy Polenta.

I love polenta. Especially when into the polenta, you stir Mascarpone and Parmigiano. It's like eating grits for dinner!!! Plus, the chicken cooked itself into this really nice sauce, and there were grape tomatoes included.... and it was lovely.

Last night, after the shopping, I made a full menu from Rachael's 2,4,6,8 which consisted of Bollywood Inspired chickpea and Tomato soup, and spicy chicken patties in a pita. Also, while in Trader Joe's, I saw some beautiful orange and yellow tomatoes. I bought them, and sliced them with some red onion, salt, pepper, and olive oil as an appetizer.
Jesse is wary of tomatoes, so he wasn't 100% enthusiastic about it -- although he ended up enjoying the salad (which he doesn't think is a salad, because it only had two vegetables in it, and no leafy green..... discuss....) I think.

The soup was very nice, and I think if I'd used lamb instead of chicken, the patties would have been great. Ground chicken as a rule is pretty dry when you make it into a patty, since you have to cook it all the way through. But with lamb or something, it would have been a little moister, a little nicer, but it was still nice.

Tonight, I made Buffalo Chicken pizza. We made the crust with some Hefeweizen, which was pretty badass. I do love beer crust, because it's a little airier, although the beer doesn't really get a chance to develop the same flavor as beer bread, but it does give lots of bubbles and stuff, and a great consistency. The chicken element was generated by grilling the chicken and then tossing it with some jarred buffalo sauce and butter.... then baked it with some jack cheese, blue cheese, and scallions.

It was yum-tastic. I'm very proud of it.

I love making pizza. The crusts are generally varied, and the toppings of course vary -- you never get the same pizza twice and I love that. I feel that regularity with pizza is overrated when you make it at home. When you order it, of course, your pizza should be similar each time. But basically I like the quirks in pizza, the air bubbles and the burnt toppings and the cheese that stretches all over the place... it's better. It's way better than regular old boring pizza.

And in other news, tomorrow I starve, and Friday, the Burger Meister returns!!!

In which I'm blogging to convince myself I'm not starving.

Right now, I'm blogging from my boss's house. Their daughter is asleep in the bedroom, right next door, and I am posting this because she needs to sleep for a while longer before I can really order food or anything.

Tuesday night, we had tacos. I never find tacos to be that spectacular, although I always enjoy them. We had great guacamole, which was a team effort between the boyfriend and myself... meat, beans from a can, rice with a packaged spice mix (the shame....) and various veggies and cheese.

I guess tacos just don't really inspire me. They're yummy, but since the packaged seasonings you buy from Ortega are so good.... I really can't figure out why one wouldn't use them (besides the desire to not die from the amount of salt in the packet.... that, I get). And really....browning ground beef isn't inspiring, and everything else involved is kind of just chopping.... I don't know, it's not that much fun for me I guess. But, They are a fun thing to eat together, and they always disappear, so those at least are good things that I take with me.

Wednesday (actually, the whole past week, come to it) was gorgeous. New York at this time of year, when you get a week like this, really reminds you why you live here.... especially after a dark and dreary winter. I've been having troubles going home lately, since I live so far away from Manhattan.... when I leave work I wander for a while, and then by the time I get off the train, it's 7:00 and I'm going inside for the night, save for walking Bruno, our foster-dog. It's depressing, when there's still daylight and warmth at 7:00, and there's nowhere to go in our neighborhood, and I've wasted an hour of daylight underground getting home.

I digress.

Yesterday, I was feeling those same feelings again. Plus, there's no natural light in our living room or kitchen, so it just feels dark. So I was sitting in Madison Square Park, with Jesse, when I got so sad about the idea of going home, of wasting another beautiful evening inside a train and a dark apartment.

So, he suggested we get milkshakes from Shake Shack and maybe walk across the Williamsburg Bridge to get home. While the rest of the plan didn't necessarily work out, we did eventually get milkshakes and cheese fries from Shake Shack, and we sat in the park and enjoyed them and each other. Because this place is so awesome, it took us well over an hour just to get to order our food - an hour well spent talking, enjoying the sun, getting freckles, and listening to The Crooners jam out. It was wonderful, and it was so nice.
I felt a little guilty, which I know is silly, because Kristin was at home and I didn't know whether I was planning to be home or to cook or what.... but I came home eventually, once I felt better and the sun had gone down.

I made Salmon and Angel Hair.
I seasoned the salmon with salt and pepper, a small drizzle of oil, and lemon juice. I put lemon slices on top, and sprinkled dill on top of that. I broiled them, but since I've never broiled salmon filets before, I didn't know how long, and ended up having to flip them over (losing the lemon slices and most of the dill) to finish cooking. The angel hair, I tossed with a sauce of butter and olive oil, which was simmered with a few crushed garlic cloves that I removed before serving, and parsley.
I squeezed lemon over my plate before I dug in, but I didn't recommend it to others because I was unsure. It was nice.

Next time, I will remember to season both sides of the salmon. And to broil both sides. Next time, I will not let the butter brown. Next time, if Kristin asks if I want to cook or if she should just order a pizza.... I will let her order the pizza.

Tonight, I'm working late as a nanny, earning my keep or whatever.... so I'll probably order takeaway in a few minutes, which is lame. Oh well. Such is the life of someone leading a double life.

Next time,
In which Mac & Cheese is Entertaining!

In which we go to Kiev, for dinner.

Ok. We didn't really go to Kiev. But we had chicken kiev. And it's almost the same thing, isn't it?

Chicken kiev is one of those "20 minutes of active prep, 20 minutes of baking, tastes like it takes hours to make" dishes. My mom used to make it, when I was a kid, out of this cookbook that went out of print in the late 80's, that she used for lots of things. I always see it come out when Thanksgiving rolls around, when she needs to roast a turkey. In 2006, I mentioned that I might like a copy of that book. My mom had to break a few ankles, threaten a few lives, and eventually she found it on Amazon, for way more than she'd paid for it in the early 80's, because it's out of print now.

So I got it for Christmas, and I've been cooking from it and using it as a reference book ever since. Chicken Kiev is one of my favorite recipes from it - something that my mother made exceptionally well when I was a kid. Or at least, that's how I remember it.

I'll give you the recipe, although pretty much, you've heard this song before. It's too good not to share, in case you haven't.

Chicken Kiev
Chop 1 shallot, 1 clove of garlic, three springs' worth of thyme leaves, and one big sprig of rosemary leaves.
Smush them into about half a stick of softened butter. Season with salt and pepper. Wrap in plastic wrap, and put in the freezer while you complete the next steps.
Melt 5 tablespoons of butter (I know, it's a weird amount, but still, it's right).
Pound out as many chicken breasts as people you're feeding. You want them thin. About a quarter of an inch. I use my rolling pin and sandwich the chicken breasts between plastic wrap.
Season one side of the chicken breasts with salt and pepper.
Cut off a piece of the compound butter (If you're feeding 3 people, cut it into thirds, 4 people, cut it in fourths, and so on. If you're feeding more than 4 people, use more butter) and smear it on the bottom of the chicken breast. Sprinkle this with shredded gruyere cheese.

Roll up the chicken breast like a burrito, and place on a plate to hang out. If you want to, you can use toothpicks. If you don't want to (I never do), just put the seam down, to wait.

When all the chicken breasts are done and rolled up into little packages, roll them in the melted butter, and roll them in bread crumbs. I'd say about a quarter cup of breadcrumbs. Season with salt, pepper, and shredded cheese if you want to. I'd say shredded parm is good. Freshly shredded is excellent. It's a good way.

Put them seam-side down in a baking pan, and drizzle with the remaining melted butter.

Bake in a 425 oven for about 20 minutes, until they're not pink and the juices are clear.

The cheese will be gooey, the butter will be runny, and if you've rolled them up right, you'll have a little buttery, cheesy sauce when you cut into the middle of them. Gorgeous.

I served this with a salad of spinach, salt, pepper, olive oil, Cassis Balsamic Vinegar, and shredded parm. It was lovely.



There, you harpies. See? Dinner.

I had a Riesling with this, which is my favorite white wine. I've recently become an Albino Wino. Heh. When I told Jesse that, he said that his brain had been broken. But, honestly - I have! We definitely haven't bought red wine in a few weeks.

Ok, so here's the deal. Until next time:
In which we go south of the border... for tacos. Heh.

In which everything is Gnocchi-Dokie!!

Today was a great day.

I spent the morning getting brunch-drunk with some friends, the rest of the day walking around the city with my wonderful roommate, and the night making dinner for friends.
There's nothing I like better.

I made Gnocchi from a recipe in Food & Wine. I've never made gnocchi before and I'm not going to lie - it wasn't perfect. But it was pretty good. They were a little mushier than I was hoping, and I think that was a combination of not drying the potatoes out enough, pureeing them too much (I got lazy and decided that I would puree them in the blender. Bad call), and not adding enough flour. I'll not make that mistake again. I was just afraid of them being too tough. It's probably a common bread-baker's fear. Anyways. I didn't add the whole 3/4 cup of flour, because it seemed to have come together. I know better now. Next time, no problems. Maybe.

Anyways. I cooked for Jesse, my roomie Kristin, and our friends Steele and Laura. Along with the gnocchi, I made a combination of Chicken francese, and chicken marsala. Basically, it was thin-pounded chicken breasts, dredged in egg and flour, browned in oil and butter. I added sliced cremini mushrooms, and removed the chicken breasts. Then, I poured in some white wine, and some more butter. The pan sauce was fabulous. I put the chicken back in, covered it, and put it on low. Then, I sauteed the boiled gnocchi, heated up the sauce, and served.

Kristin took a picture of her plate, the first one I plated, which I'm about to show you all:



The Gnocchi should have been browned more. But they still tasted ok, and I think everybody got a few that had the perfect texture. I certainly did.

Everybody thought they were delicious, which was nice.

Even Bruno:



He jumped onto my lap to lick my plate.


Clearly, it was nommy even though it wasn't perfect.

But at least there's room for improvement. Next time.

IN fact, let's go with until next time....
In which we start all over again.

In which I become the Burger-Meister

So I've been having burger troubles lately. Maybe this is because my choice of cooking medium is not ideal. Maybe it's because I'm adding egg when really, since I'm using 85% lean beef, I don't actually have to use an egg. Either way, they're not browning, and they're falling apart and sticking to my beautiful ridged on one side, flat on the other Lodge Cast-Iron Griddle pan. So last night, I went back to basics. On the burgers, at least. Ground beef, a third of an onion, 2 cloves of garlic, salt, and pepper. No funny stuff, no herbs, no egg.

I made the rolls.

Yesterday was a gorgeous day in New York, high seventies, cloudless sky, beautiful sunshine, so I spent an hour after work sitting in Hudson River Park, watching the river and generally being calm and collecting freckles. I didn't want to come home, but I knew that I needed to make the rolls, so I had to come home and start things. Especially since Jesse was at NerdHerd '08 and the reason I'd said I'd make the rolls was because I had time, since he was going to be there until close of day (8pm).

So reluctantly, I shirked the sunshine, shouldered my bag, and abandoned my bench to head home. Once there, I opened a bottle of the Abita Strawberry Harvest Lager we'd bought for the purpose, mixed it with the yeast and sugar, and set to making bread. (Sidenote: you can find the recipe for the bread here . To make it beer bread, just mix the yeast with a cup of beer instead of a cup of water, and pour the rest of the beer in when mixing the yeast mixture into the flour, and then add tepid water to compensate for the rest of the liquid in the dough.)

THe beer was lovely -- once you swallowed it, you could totally taste strawberries, not beer, and it was just so light and beautiful. I took a sip before I started, to make sure it was a good choice. I love making bread with fruity beers, because you get this lovely yeasty/wheaty taste, with just a hint of sweetness from the fruit. It's gorgeous.

In a rare moment, I got everything to happen at exactly the same time. The burgers were done and sitting wtih the lid on, off the heat to melt the cheese, when the rolls were finished. Kristin, my roommate, gave me the great tip that since the best way to know if bread is done is to thump the bottom and see if it sounds hollow, if it sounds the same at the middle as at the outside with a couple minutes left in baking, you're pretty set. Everything was great. The burgers stayed together, the pepper-jack was just right, and the onions that I'd caramelized cooked a little quicker than I figured (my stove doesn't have a low enough setting for caramelizing.... they cook too quickly. I need a heat diffuser. or a a better stove) but they were still nice and sweet and not browned.

It was great.

And it really made me feel good about burgers again. I'd been feeling pretty badly about mine, since they always tasted nice, but never really looked good, since they'd fall apart or stick to the griddle. Maybe it's the fact that I didn't use the egg. Also, probably I need to do some research and season my griddle, on both sides, so that it doesn't have the sticking problem anymore. Sunflower oil alone is not enough. So, things to do, things to do. Always.

Tonight I don't really have a plan for dinner, because Jesse may not be home, and because Kristin may be out, and because I had the luxury of knowing these things far enough in advance to decide that I'll just make myself some scrambled eggs and sauteed spinach, or something akin to this, for dinner tonight. Or whatever else I feel like. Maybe I'll buy a slice of pizza. Who knows.

Tomorrow night, though, I've got slated a recipe for Food and Wine for Meyer Lemon Gnocchi. My nanny boss advised me not to waste money on Meyer lemons in a situation like this, where you wouldn't really appreciate the flavor and the essential oils produced. She said that regular lemons would work just fine, and while sometimes she's a jerk, I trust her on food, at least when it comes to actually saving money. They're splashy spenders, so if she says to save my money, I'll take her word. She also mentioned that I don't need a potato ricer, as long as I've got a sieve or a food mill. I'll have to pick up another sieve, since mine is actually a flour sifter. But no biggie, they're not expensive.

Plus, tomorrow morning I'll be out and about, because one of my friends is entered in the NYC Run for the Parks tomorrow, and after that a bunch of us are going somewhere (I'm not sure where) for a $20 all you can eat (and drink) brunch consisting of (hopefully) lots and lots of mimosas/bloody marys. We will be worshipping at the Temple of St. Debauch, and all who are so inclined are invited to join in our worship, regardless of location. Heh.

After that, Kristin and I are going to walk across the Williamsburg bridge, so she can bust out her shnazzy camera that hasn't seen nearly enough daylight this year, and take photos. Maybe she'll even photograph the gnocchi prep as it goes on.

Also, one of my friends suggested I post pictures of my cooking. In all honesty, I would if not for 2 factors, one pressing and one just kind of a fact. THe first factor is the fact that neither I nor Jesse have a camera that actually works and is charged. This puts a damper on food photography, as well as photography of other kinds.
I could use my roommate's camera - she's just offered it, but this kind of brings us to the second factor. My food isn't beautiful. For reasons on which I'm not 100% clear, I'm way more interested in the process of creating food than I am in the actual presentation or even the eating of the food. I mean, I want others to eat it, and I desperately want them to enjoy it as deeply as possible but for me, the enjoyment is all in the preparation. (Obviously I like to eat, but I much prefer to cook. Is this weird? I need a ruling on the field.)

So, I'm not sure what benefit photography would serve, since I've know photos of food to actually put people off their appetites. Although honestly, my breads are ready for their closeups, and the steaks I made last week deserved some face time as well. SO, we'll see. Maybe I'll start posting photos.

I AM the Burger-Meister, Meister-Burger. Heh!!!


Ok, till next time,
In which everything is Gnocchi-Dokie!! (I hope)

In which I do not burn the house down. At all.

I've never broiled steaks.

I've grilled them once. My dad for some reason does not let me do the grilling, even though I am at least as good as he is, and have the potential to be better because I learn from his (occasional) mistakes.

On Friday night of last week, I undertook to broil a couple steaks.

I was feeling kind of flush, because I'd gotten my tax return and would be getting paid in a few days. So, I bought a couple huge steaks from Whole Foods, and got ready to cook some steaks. I consulted Alton Brown and my mother, to find out the particulars about broiling. Then, I coated my huge steaks with the dry rub my uncle gave me (which is basically salt, pepper, garlic powder, and a couple herbs -- what I would have put on them anyways), and let them sit out at room temperature while I made the potatoes ready for the mashings (which means I cut them up and put them in the pot with water and salt, to boil).

Although I was very nervous, I fired up the broiler, got a cookie sheet lined with foil and my cooling rack. The recipe I'd read said the steaks needed to be 3 inches from the broiler - I couldn't find the happy medium so I figured I'd just cook them for less time.

It turned out, I didn't need to do that. Basically, I managed to cook it for 4 ish minutes on one side and 5-6 minutes on the other side (these were inch-inch and a half steaks. One pound each. HUGE) and they came out Beautiful!!! Medium-rare to rare, very juicy, well-seasoned. The juices that ran out while they were resting were a beautiful compliment to the Gorgonzola Mashed potatoes. I made too much, too many, which was happy because it meant that the next day, after I worked as a nanny for 15 hours, starting at 5am and ending at 8pm, I ate leftover steak and mashed tatoes and was happy.

Saturday, after my marathon day that began with the most awful night's sleep ever, a cabbie calling me at 4am to ask me if he had my address correct, same cabbie calling at 4:38am to tell me he was there (I'd requested a car for 5am. Really?!), I fell asleep after watching Chefography on the Food Network until midnight (Rachael Ray was on!!).

I was a waste on Sunday, so my roommate cooked, a nommy situation of pasta and meat sauce, and just what I needed considering that I was so tired I slept for 11 hours AND took a nap. Or two. Heh.

Monday after I got out of work times two, I looked forward to getting home and eating dinner, but the MTA had other plans. I didn't get home until after 10, when I'd left work at 8:30. Absurd. Stupid MTA. Anyways, Boyfriend and I created the coming week's menu and went to sleep.

Tuesday was supposed to be Pumpkin Sage pasta with Sausage and Wild Mushrooms. However, my nanny boss had other plans. Unbeknownst to me, I had agreed to work on Tuesday night ( which I would never do), and even though I had things to do, I had to come through. So, Boyfriend and I did as much grocery shopping as we could before I had to dash to work.

I didn't end up getting out of work until midnight thirty, which was approximately 3 hours after I assumed I'd be getting out of work. Jesse and my roommate ended up eating the sausage we'd bought, and when I finally got home round about 1am, my lovely and wonderful boyfriend made me Annie's Mac & Cheese so I didn't starve.

Last night we finally got back on track, after missing out on a chance to see Forbidden Kingdom for free and early (the line was so long! People had been waiting since noon), we came home and had Spicy Tomato Soup (boxed tomato soup, with cumin, chili powder, curry powder, salt, pepper, and hot sauce) and Grilled Cheese Shaminses (the little girl I nanny for says "shamins" instead of sandwich.... SO cute) with Muenster cheese.

And tonight. Tonight real men made quiche.
Or at least, they made pie crust.

My boyfriend made the crust for tonight's quiche, and when I got home from work at 9pm, it was Saran-Wrapped and waiting in the fridge for me to roll it out and blind-bake it. I love my blind-baking paraphenalia. Because honestly, it's a piece of aluminum foil and some dried cannelini beans. And it's going to be that until someone decides to buy me a set of pie weights. Which means I'll be using foil and beans for a very long time!! :)

The interior of the quiche involved sauteed mushrooms, spinach, gruyere, eggs, milk, cream, and red bell peppers.

It was delicious.
Absolutely delicious.

And tomorrow morning, on my way to work, I will have something to munch on. Yummy Quiche Leftovers!!!


Tune in next time:
In which we feed the boyfriend after NerdHerd '08 (aka the New York ComiCon)

In which I remember what I planned to make for dinner tonight!!!

One of the pitfalls of having a plan for dinner every night is that sometimes, you forget what you were meant to be making for dinner that night. Especially when it's Thursday, and you made the menu on Sunday night, when you were on the verge of a massive head cold. I barely remember Sunday night.

Anyways, tonight's menu was Chicken Pot Pie.

Because I'm sick, and I knew I'd have to nanny tonight, and I knew my nanny boss would not be true to her word and try to get out early from class (she doesn't remember little things like.... her daughter got her nanny sick, so keeping them together when they're tired, maybe not a good idea), so I asked my boyfriend to do some of the beginning steps, that would be easy-ish, but time consuming when arriving home from work at 9pm.
*Quick sidenote about my boyfriend - he's a very smart guy and by his own admission, he used to be a very competent cook. However, as a result of living with excellent cooks for nearly the last ten years, he hasn't ever....had to cook. So, he has lost his confidence. Tragically.*

So, I asked him to poach chicken breasts for me, and to make the pie crusts. I was pretty sure that I could fix any mistakes he made on the crusts (which are notoriously fiddly, and based on feel, rather than on precision measurement), and if it was a total wash, which I wasn't expecting, I could whip new ones together and not let them rest in the fridge. I left him specific instructions, and he complied with them.

I came home to find that he had only completed one crust, which makes sense when making your first crust, I suppose. He cranked out the second one within 15 minutes, though, and they hit the fridge while I made the rest of the components (namely, sauteeing a diced shallot, a box of frozen veggies, and 5 sliced crimini mushrooms in butter, adding worcestershire, rosemary, and poultry seasoning, and then making a cheesey bechamel sauce into which the chicken and veggies were mixed).

When I rolled out the first crust, I realised it had gone perfectly. Perfectly.

The second was not so lucky, but it was only a bit dry. And frankly, a bit dry is WAY better than gummy or too wet. So I patchworked it onto the pie, sprinkled it with cheese, and set it in to bake.

It's delicious.

Freaking delicious.

If I wasn't more interested in going to sleep than in anything else, I'd probably eat more now. I'd definitely eat some for breakfast tomorrow, but I will be too busy running from the shower at 7:10 back to my bed for 20 more minutes' sleep while my roomie is in the shower.

Heh.

So, until next time,
In which we steak a claim!!! (see what I did there?)
or
In which Joh tries to not burn down the kitchen broiling steaks.

In which we experience the Risott-Ohhhhh Face

I made risotto tonight. I'm pretty darn good at making risotto. It's yum-tastic.
Tonight, I made risotto with spinach, mushrooms and gorgonzola. Even better than yum-tastic.

Basically, since I haven't been able to taste much, I've been kind of disappointed and disheartened about cooking. Plus, for as grateful as my boyfriend is about my cooking, my roommate still takes for granted that I'm cooking dinner for her every night for free.

Tonight, I sucked it up and made the risotto. These flavors are so strong, I figured I couldn't miss them. Stupid sickies.

I sliced up cremini mushrooms, and sauteed them in butter and garlic. Once they were soft and lovely, I added salt, pepper, and a few handfuls of baby spinach. I sauteed that too, briefly, and moved the lot to a bowl to cool down.

While all that was going on, I heated up the chicken stock. About 4 cups, plus a cup or so of water. I also chopped up a few cloves of garlic and a shallot. A big shallot. Sweat them in butter for a few minutes, with a pinch of salt, while measuring out 2 cups of Arborio rice. Throw the rice in the pot and stir it around for 2 or 3 mintues. It should go from looking white, to looking clear. NOT BROWN. NO BROWN. BROWN IS BAD!!!!

Add lemon juice or a glass of wine. I'd say from my experience, lemon juice is better. Then, add ladlefuls of hot stock, one at a time, with a pinch of salt, and once the liquid evaporates into the rice, add the next ladleful of stock. Turn the heat down all the way, as low as it can get.

Keep ladling in the stock until it's all gone. With the last ladleful, throw in a lump of butter. Mix it in, then grab the bowl of mushrooms and spinach. Stir that in, and get your Gorgonzola crumbles. Add about a handful, or more if you want more. Taste taste taste, and then serve. Eat. Smiiiile.

My boyfriend made his "mmmmm" face, the face that's the reason I cook, when I made this for him tonight. I've re-named this face the "Risott-ohhhhh" face. Like the Oh face guy from Office Space. Y'know, Oh!??

Heh.

And on that note, we close. Until next time,
In which we remember what Thursday night's planned dinner is.

In which we get a feeble excuse.

I haven't been posting. I could chalk it up to being sick, but I only got sick yesterday, and I'm worse today. Mope.

The cassoulet was pretty good, although when it first came out it was kind of bland. It set up and was pretty delicious.

Saturday, we didn't eat together, because we each had plans that night.

Sunday, I made biscuits and fried chicken. The biscuits were heavenly. THey were heavenly. Light, flaky, airy, they were delicious. You'd think I was southern. But.... I'm not.

The fried chicken wasn't as great as it always is, but it was still pretty good. SOmething was just off. I'm not sure if it was the preparation or what, but something just wasn't as awesome as usual. I'm not disappointed though, because the biscuits were so bangin', it makes up for it.

Today, we were supposed to go grocery shopping because I'm supposed to work tomorrow night, but I'm so sick that I couldn't work with the baby tonight. In fact, I came home after work and crashed. So, I ordered from Fresh Direct, and was able to reasonably replicate the dinner we had planned for tonight. Tomorrow should be salvageable too, since it's left-overs. Hopefully by the time Wednesday rolls around, I'll be able to taste, so I'll be able to cook.

Also, until I'm able write about my cooking (and sense of taste) again, watch this and marvel:
http://www.gourmet.com/magazine/video/2008/03/bertinet_sweetdough

It's hot. I promise.

In which I handle some meat.

Making burgers can be pretty zen for me. I like to do it. Basically, it's not something I worry about screwing up, even when I'm making them for other people, and things like that are rare for me. Not that I worry about screwing up when I cook a lot, but, I am typically concerned about things not going as planned. It's very nice when I get to make burgers, and they go as planned. Very nice indeed.

These burgers were kind of disappointing, because they fell apart rather than holding together. I think I need to go back to basics. But in all honesty, they were pretty tasty. Plus, they had amazing cheese (porter cheddar) and delicious french fries on the side. It was a good din din.

I promise to write more tomorrow, when we make cassoulet. It should be delish. It's my Gourmet Magazine recipe of the week. :)

In which I make my own breadcrumbs.

In which I cook to save myself from a freakout.

I hate cooking angry. I really really hate it. When I'm angry, or annoyed, I resent everything I'm cooking, and everyone I'm cooking for. This is the polar opposite from myself. I love cooking because I love to cook for people. So being annoyed at people while cooking doesn't necessarily poison the food, but it poisons my enjoyment of it.

I cooked mad tonight. I hate cooking mad. But I still made delicious food. I should be proud. This was a leap for me, and I did a good job. But I'm not proud. Even the praises of my boyfriend and roommate (at whom I was mad in the first place) don't make this taste any better. In fact, I don't even want to eat it. I just want to let it get cold and then throw it out - or put it back in the pan or feed it to the dog. Maybe it'll taste better tomorrow for lunch than it does right now. But right now.... meh.

Tonight, I made penne alla vodka, with chicken meatballs.

Empirically, it is delicious. Empirically, I don't taste food.

To make the chicken meatballs, you take a pound of ground chicken, add a clove of chopped up garlic, some thyme, some parsley, salt, pepper, parmesan, bread crumbs, an egg, and poultry seasoning. You smush it all together, and make little teeny meatballs, smaller than a golf ball. It was a nice release, because after being spoken to as though I don't know anything about anything, I got to make a ton of noise and smash things around and even though I didn't feel better once I did it, at least I got to do it. I sauteed them in olive oil, until they were done. Done through. This is imperative, so there are no food-poisony-nesses. Ok?
I promise, someday I'll measure things, figure out how much of everything I put in and then these recipes can be replicated, but until that day, you're going to have to do it the way I do.... wing it, do it by feel, etc.

My vodka sauce was remarkably easy. I didn't know it was so easy to make. I sauteed half an onion, and 3 cloves of garlic in butter and olive oil, until they were soft and see-through. Then, I added half a cup of vodka, a handfull of chopped parsley, and a big can of crushed tomatoes. Then, some cream. The recipe I based mine off of called for a pint. I'd say I added probably half a pint at most. Simmer it together while you drain the pasta that you've cleverly been boiling. Add the meatballs back into the sauce, so they get all nice and warm, and then add the pasta. Mix it around with some Parmesan, and some Mozzarella.

Serve it to people all mixed together. You will hear rave reviews. However, if you're still angry with at least one of the people that you're serving, it won't really matter.

I ended up finishing the food. I'm still angry. But... the food ended up tasting ok. Next time, hopefully it'll taste even better, because I won't be eating it as a side dish to ire.

Also, last night I served panko-crusted salmon, pan fried, with steamed vegetables and a butter/wine sauce. The sauce should have reduced about 5 minutes more. But, in the end, it was good enough. I was feeling ..... down last night. I need to get "up" before I try to make burgers tomorrow night, because I can't be bummed out and make burgers - it's just not possible.

Any suggestions?

Anyone????

In which Chili gets hot.

I'm really happy about having made chili. I made it once before, and I really loved it. I love winging things. I think that there's an element of pride in the fact that I can (sort of, limitedly) figure out how things will taste together, and cook by intuition. Of course, without any bullshit, I'll fully admit that a lot of my cooking successes are via trial and error. I'm not at all afraid to screw up in the kitchen, mostly because I think it's a learning experience. Also because frankly, if I screw up, I can throw it out and make scrambled eggs. I never screw those up.

My chili is pretty much designed to my tastes. I don't love spicy-hot flavors, but I do love the warm spiciness of Indian inspired foods... cumin, coriander, curry powder.... they seem so warm and comforting to me, and not spicy at all. I like the illusion of heat. But of course, since it's chili, you have to bust out the hot sauce and the chili powder. Just not blow the roof off.

Making chili is a bit weird for me, because I'm the product of 12 generations of New Englanders on one side, and Polish and Scottish immigrants on the other side. Luckily, my father has a small obsession with cajun and southern food.... he's read The Frugal Gourmet Cooks American too many times, and I think the pages on Red Beans and Rice, Gumbo, and Jambalaya are all falling out from use. He loves fried chicken, and chicken fried steak. He's the most southern New Englander I've ever met, at least as far as food is concerned. He's pretty much the reason I cook, because my mom cooks only because you can't get food from thin air. My dad likes to cook, and he's a very good cook.

It's also a bit weird for me to make chili, since as a child, I hated it. This might be because my mom's chili wasn't very good the one time I remember eating it, which I assume must be it, since I would eat red beans and rice cold, with cold rice, until there was no more left. Plus, my staunch New England heart is amazed by the fact that I'm in a long-term relationship with a man from Tulsa - a man who swears he's sort of mid-western, but whose mother cooked sort of southern stuff. In general, basically I'm dating my polar opposite.

As this entry is about chili, I suppose I should mention something straight out:
I put both beans, AND tomatoes, into my chili.

If you're against either of those things, please don't give me hate notes. I love it this way. It's delicious. Even Jesse likes my chili, and he's the first to admit that he doesn't really go for beans in chili - or for that matter, tomatoes. Apparently his mom didn't make it that way. I'm down with that. I'm from New England - I have an automatic handicap. We don't follow the chili rules, mother effers! We're crazy! We're liberal! We're contentious! Woooooo!!!

Anyways. Chili making takes all day. It involves deglazing with a beer - I recommend Brooklyn Brown, but any fun brown ale will work out. Plus, for my pregnant reader, all the alcohol gets burned out -- you can de-glaze with a beer if you're feeling sassy.

It also involves Fire-Roasted Canned Tomatoes. They're amazing. They add smokiness that you can really taste. It's remarkable.

It also involves tasting and stirring every like.... 15 minutes, tops. You're probably going to have to add more garlic powder, more chili powder, cumin, hot sauce, etc.... which is what I add. Cumin, garlic powder, chili powder, curry powder, and hot sauce. It's a winning combination, although that's only with my taste.

The leftovers, again, badass. Best thing ever for lunch today. I really needed this amazingness today.


Plus, when I didn't want to eat left-overs for dinner tonight, I was able to make scrambled eggs for dinner. And spinach, which I sauteed with butter, salt, and pepper, with lemon juice and parmesan. It was lovely.

Tonight, we begin again. Tonight, I'll curl up in bed with the boyfriend, and make a grocery list. It'll be very nice, and it will be a good start to a long and difficult day. But as long as this shopping day ends up better than last week's..... we'll be golden.

Next up: In which I cause fishies to surrender.

In which I give up the reins.

Or, In which I get beer on my bum.

Saturday night's menu was for a pizza. Because my boyfriend has interesting ideas about flavors (that are usually correct - he should have been a molecular gastronomist, I swear), we had a pizza that had green olives, red peppers, pepperoni and mozzarella (and of course, tomato sauce). Most of the way through the baking, spinach and more parmesan were added.

It was, I have to say, delicious. The sweet roasted peppers meshed so well with the salty olives, and the pepperoni and mozzarella were so perfect, and the spinach just added something so nice.

Plus, the crust was lovely. The boyfriend made it, because I was at work, and we wanted to eat before midnight. I'd heard somewhere that a pizza place used Bud in the pizza crust, to make things happier. I advised that the boyfriend did that, but didn't specify that he should also use water. THis almost lead to a crisis while I was at work, but I specified once I got him on the phone, after I left work, and things were rectified.

He has such little confidence in his abilities, which is sad because he did a fine job on the crust. Plus, he got to use the magic that is my KitchenAid Mixer, and I love letting people share the joy of it. Anyways. THe dough did its thing, and it was wonderful. He did a great job. I need to learn how to make a thinner pizza crust itself, because it's darn difficult cutting the ones I keep turning out.

And then, of course, while sitting on the couch enjoying a Blue Moon Belgian White with my slice of pizza, I put the beer on the futon next to me, and of course it tipped over, spilling beer all over my ass. I was unhappy, to say the least.

Bonus points for the pizza being even nommier the next day. Cold pizza for breakfast = FOR THE WIN!!!!

Next time: In which chili doesn't mean that it's chilly.

In which I get comfy with Comfort Food.

Friday night's recipe was for good old-fashioned Roni Cheese. As it turns out, I needed this dinner.
Friday night I was at my 9-5 until roughly 8:30pm. Generally, that's called "teh suck". When it happens on a Friday, it's called "kill yourself". Luckily, I didn't.
But once I slogged it home, half-starved because I hadn't eaten since 1 (when I ate Wednesday night's left overs, because why eat left-overs the day following, when you can eat them two days later, right?) I was glad I'd picked something that I've probably made 10 times since I invented the recipe (and for me that's a lot). Something I could practically make in my sleep. My Roni Cheese.

I usually make it with pancetta, but since we were buying for a week here, bacon was more reasonable, since we eat it with breakfast and I'm putting it in tomorrow night's dinner, chili. So I chopped up the bacon and shallots, cooked them with a little olive oil until they got all nice, and then made a roux out of hte rendered fat, olive oil, a little butter, the bacon/shallots, and flour. Once that cooked, I added a bunch (too much, in retrospect) of chicken stock, milk, and some heavy cream. I seasoned (always, always taste as you cook, and season. always) and let it simmer while boiling the pasta. When it got to the right consistency, I added the cheese, which my boyfriend was kind enough to grate. I use cave-aged Gruyere and Emmenthaler, both of which I bought at Trader Joe's, and higher quality versions of which you can find at Whole Foods, or any place that doesn't only sell it's own, store-brand of cheese.

Side note. I hate grating cheese. If I had my way, I'd buy everything pre-shredded. But, some cheeses just do not do well with that, which is why it's worth mentioning that my boyfriend grated the cheese. I really fucking hate my grater, and I hate getting my fingers grated every time I use it. Someday, if I'm rich, I'm hiring someone to grate cheese for me, unless someone invents a grater that won't grate my knuckles/fingertips before then. I really fucking hate grating cheese.

I added too much chicken stock. Don't make my mistake. Add about half as much stock as you think you need, then add the milk and cream and see where you are. If you're using canned stock, add about half the can, about 2 cups of milk, and half a cup of cream. Then add the rest of the can, and slit your wrists with the lid because you didn't buy the boxed stock that is FAR superior.
If you're using boxed stock(and if you can't use homemade, you should ALWAYS use boxed stock), use about a cup, 2 and a half cups of the dairy, and then maybe another half-cup (yes, I know a can of stock is almost 2 cups, but trust me here, that stuff is 98% water. Bleh).

Stir the cheese in a little at a time, with a figure-eight motion, until it's all in. Let it sit on the lowest heat setting you've got until the pasta's done. Drain, and mix the sauce with the pasta. Start your broiler.

I generally reserve some of the shredded cheese for the top. If you didn't, that's ok. Use some parmesan, and sprinkle it all over everything. Then, cover that with breadcrumbs (regular or panko are both delicious), and cover the crumbs again with parm. Broil until the parm is nice and crusty brown. Eat asap. Enjoy.


Now I've just given you the approximation of a secret recipe. Even my roommate, who doesn't really like to admit that I can cook loves this stuff. The Roni Cheese is heavenly. Luckily for me, nobody reads this thing, so I don't have to worry about you all stealing my recipe. Please still come to my cafe to eat it, once it opens. I came up with this on a wing and a prayer, after a few awful attempts. What can I say, all the roni cheese I'd ever eaten until I was 23 came out of a box. Therefore, you are fully encouraged to mess with this. Add mustard to the sauce. Add chili powder. Don't use the pancetta. Use different cheeses - although if you're going to use cheddar, use Emmenthaler as the other cheese, or something not oily. Two oily cheeses do not make a good time. Trust me. Next time, I might add cauliflower or broccoli as I'm combining the cheese sauce and pasta. I don't know, I'm crazy!!!
Seriously though, this is basically a fool-proof situation, as long as you know what a roux is. You're learning to make one of the basic sauces in all of French Cuisine, bechamel, by making this dish (that's what it's called when you make a roux, then pour in milk and whisk like crazy. ta-daaa!!). Amazing, huh??

We ate this with a delicious nouveau wine that we buy at the Trader Joe's wine store. Any young red would go well with this, as would most whites, I guess. I'm a wino, but my selection is limited - Riesling, Zin, Merlot, Pinot Grigio, and Pinot Noir, unless Charles Shaw starts making other stuff. :) Sit back and enjoy a meal with which you will be able to feed most everyone (except vegetarians. For them, take out the bacon, and make it vegetable stock. Vegans are fucked, but you already knew that).

Next time: In which I surrender the reins, and let my boyfriend make the pizza dough.

Or

In which I accidentally get beer all over my ass.

In which I am saved from the threat of becoming classy.

Thursday night, one of my friends came over for dinner.

I have bad luck when cooking for friends, because most of the time things take a long time to prepare and cook, or at least they take me away from my friends. I have to focus on the food.

Luckily, I've gotten good enough at cooking that I can focus on more than one thing at a time. Marla came over on Thursday night, came home with me once I got out of work, and I made dinner with her standing there, playing Cat Williams stand-up and talking to me.

I made walnut crusted chicken, and goat-cheese mashed potatoes. This is really easy to make, and even the pan sauce was really simple, so I'm going to give the recipe.

Walnut-Crusted Chicken, with Goat-Cheese Mash.
4 chicken breasts, boneless and skinless
1 cup (roughly) of walnuts.
Panko bread crumbs.
Flour.
1 egg.
Salt, Pepper, Poultry seasoning (or garlic powder), butter, olive oil.
Chicken broth.
Lemon juice.
Parsley.
About 2 pounds of small yellow potatoes.
Chevre (goat cheese). If you want to get fancy, herby or garlicky goat cheese.
Heavy cream.

Smash the hell out of the chicken breasts, until they're about a half-inch, to a quarter inch thick. I use a rolling pin for this, but I've also heard of using a cast-iron skillet, another heavy pan, or if you're really fancy, a meat mallet. Once they're sufficiently smashed, sprinkle them with salt and pepper on both sides. Leave them out for a few minutes.
Meanwhile, put the walnuts in a food processor and whirl them around until they're small, crushed, but not a powder (if you don't have a food processor, put them in a zip-bag and bash the hell out of them with the rolling pin/skillet/heavy pan/meat mallet's flat side).

Combine the walnuts with about a quarter-cup of flour, and about the same amount of panko in a shallow, wide dish. Season the breading element with the salt, pepper, and poultry seasoning (or garlic powder). Beat up the egg in a separate dish and season it with the same mixture.

Cut the potatoes in half, if you need to, and put them in a large pot of water. Add salt liberally, and put them on a medium heat to boil. Basically, boil them until they fall apart when you poke a fork into them.

Put about 2 tablespoons of butter, and 2 tablespoons of olive or sunflower oil in a big pan, and heat it over medium heat.
Dip a chicken breast in the egg on both sides, and then put it into the flour/panko/walnut mixture. You're probably going to have to pack it on, because the walnuts will be chunky enough to not stick. Put the chicken breasts in the pan, and cover. Cook for about 4 minutes, then flip and cover again. The crust will get crispy, and the chicken will stay moist.

If you have to cook this in shifts, scrape out the fallen walnuts between cookings, and add a little fresh butter/oil. You're going to want to keep the stick of butter out for this dinner.

When the potatoes are done (see above for my indicator of doneness), drain them in the sink. If you've done this properly, this will be about the same time that the chicken is getting finished cooking. To help get everything done, you can take the chicken out and put it on a plate, covered with foil, while you're taking care of the potatoes and the pan sauce. Or you can get your lazy, ungrateful guests to get off their arses and help you.
Y'know. Whichever.

Put the potatoes back into the pot you cooked them in, and let them dry out. They'll generate some steam while they're doing it - this will lead to better mash.
When they're a bit dry, throw in a few tablespoons of butter, a splash or two of cream, salt, pepper, and some of the goat cheese.
Mash and smash. Taste, taste, taste. I can't tell you how much is right, because mashed potatoes are a very personal thing. Basically.... throw in more or less of all of the above until it brings a smile to your face when you taste. Then, stop, cover, and try to keep them warm.

Now, to the pan you cooked the chicken in. Hopefully, you've scraped out the spent walnuts again, and returned it to the (low!!!!) heat. Splash in some chicken broth, say half a cup. You may need more. This will make a fantastic noise and some steam. Scrape up the brown bits from the bottom of the pan, and whisk in some butter. Taste, season with salt and pepper, and add a bit more butter. Taste again. Add some cream (or not. Cream optional.) and whisk. Let it reduce until it roughly coats the back of a spoon, or you realise that you have to serve before everything gets cold. Squeeze in a bit of lemon juice (more if you don't use cream. Just a little if you do) and add some chopped parsley both to the sauce and the potatoes.

Put the chicken back in the sauce for a minute, to heat up and to get all cozy with it.

Serve the potatoes, chickies, and sauce all together on one plate. Sit back and smile.

My ever industrious buddy brought along a HUGE bottle of cheap white zinfandel. We drink this on nights where we want to follow in our mothers' footsteps -- they're wonderful women, but classy broads, they're not. Basically, we killed a big bottle of white zin over dinner, and I don't feel bad about it. I'm not joking - this bottle didn't even require a corkscrew. Just pull the tab to break the foil-y stuff, and then twist and pop the top off.

Class. We has it.

If you have a thoroughly non-classy mother, and want to go down this road, serve the zin straight from the freezer, and drink it fast. Sutter Home is preferred.

I love cooking for people who knew me before I was a cook. They're always pleasantly surprised. And they always tell me so. It's a great feeling.

Next time.... In which Comfort Food and I get comfy.
Or,
In which I I discover I have a Grate boyfriend.

In which we class it up a little.

Or, In which I wish, yet again, that I'd gotten the bigger Le Creuset.

I rarely cook straight from recipes, because honestly, I'm a little afraid of them. If I'm making it up as I go along, and measuring by sight and feel, if I screw up I can blame myself. But if I measure and read and it turns out that it's not good, then I guess that either the recipe is bad, or I am.

I decided to just take the risk, and planned for our second recipe to be chicken braised in a white wine sauce, with leeks, carrots, and potatoes. I was a little nervous, because this recipe was from Gourmet Magazine, and it involved several techniques, Braising, sweating, browning, boiling.... making a wine reduction and a cream sauce.... All in one dish. I figured this was going to be a shitshow, and take me forever.

Plus, since it's a riff on coq au vin, it seemed kind of classy and kind of out of my league - as I've written before, I tend toward soft, comforting, warm foods that are generally a combination of crunchy/crisp and soft (like Fried chicken and mashed potatoes, macaroni and cheese with a crispy cheesy/breadcrumb coating, for example).
In contrast, this dish was going to be soft. All soft. Browned chicken that's then braised in white wine for half an hour. It sounded delicious, but I was a little nervous.


I needn't have been, it turns out.
I even managed to have everything happen roughly on-time. I seasoned the chicken pieces, and moved them to one side, while I heated up the oil/butter. Then, I browned the chicken parts while chopping the leeks and shallots. I removed the chicken breasts to a plate to cool, while I browned the other half of the chicken parts. I got ready and browned the leeks and shallots, and then added the chicken. At this point, I desperately wished that when Hylton traded me a Le Creuset casserole dish (blue) for helping him carry his couch down the stairs, he had given me the big red dutch oven instead. Because once the chicken parts were all in the dutch oven, with the browned leeks, and the carrots and pearl onions, there wasn't room for the chicken and stuff to actually..... braise in the Riesling I poured in.

Anyways. It reduced a bit, and then went into the oven while I started boiling potatoes.

When the chicken was done, the potatoes were too, shockingly enough!!! I drained the potatoes, added parsley, and finished my wine sauce with cream. In the end, it was DELICIOUS.

I was amazed. I'm not used to making classy food. I'm not used to making something from the likes of Gourmet Magazine. I'm used to doing home food. Although I guess, in Alsace, this was home food. In any event, It was delicious. I was proud of this. I was proud of the sauce, and of the chicken, and of the potatoes. Basically, I was proud that my first foray into nice cooking had produced something so.... nice.

I'm quite proud. I just wish I'd had a bigger dish. The sauce would've been just a little better, things would've been just a little nicer. But in general, I'm very happy that this yummy dinner occurred. :)


Plus, the left-overs were KILLER.


Next time: In which we entertain with dinner, and it doesn't take forever. Or In which we rescue me from class by drinking a big bottle of White Zinfandel.

In which we see how it goes...

Yesterday, my boyfriend and I had an idea, that was based in the fact that I spend roughly $40 a day at Whole Foods, every time I make dinner. I'm not making recipes up so spontaneously that I couldn't get the ingredients ahead of time, I'm just too lazy to shop in bulk or plan.
Thus, the invention of a new Monday night ritual - after a dinner of either leftovers, or Kraft Macaroni and Cheese, we're going to make a menu for the next week, and a relevant shopping list. On Tuesday, after work, we're going to go shopping together, so we can buy the week's groceries which will, among other things, greatly reduce the amount of money I waste at Whole Foods each week.

Last night, we made the first list.

Tonight, we made the shopping trip, which was remarkably cheaper than I thought it would be.

Tonight, we made the first recipe.

Jamie Oliver's Chickpea with Leek Soup, and Basic Bread (which Josie bastardizes).

Soup:
2 cans chickpeas, drained and rinsed.
1 potato, peeled or not, as you see fit.
2 leeks, white and soft green parts, halved lengthwise and washed well.
4 or 5 cloves of garlic, sliced.
4 or 5 pearl onions, sliced.
About 4 cups chicken stock total. More or less.
Butter, Olive Oil, Salt, Pepper, Parmesan Cheese.

Put chickpeas and potato into a pot. Fill with water to cover, add a little salt, and boil until the chickpeas are good and mushy.

Meanwhile, melt together about a tablespoon or two of butter, and roughly the same amount of oil in a large, pretty sturdy pot. Add the onions and garlic, and shuffle around in the pot for a few minutes, until they let out some of their liquid (this is called "sweating", apparently.)
Add the leeks.

You will probably not have enough oil/butter. Add more of whichever, or both. You want everything to be nice and shiny, covered with the cooking fat, so that nothing dries out as it's cooking. Add a little more salt. This will coax out the juices, along with making things delicious.

After about 10, 15 minutes, the leeks will be very very smushy. This is the right time to drain the chidkpeas, cut up the potato, and add the whole shebang to the pot. Cook for a minute or two, and then add some chicken stock. About half. Simmer this for 10-20 minutes (while the bread is baking), then the options begin:
You can leave it as is, finish with some salt, pepper, a little butter, and a little Parmesan, and call it done.
You can puree the whole shebang, and finish with the above. Done.
OR, you can puree half, and leave the other half kind of brothy and chunky, and finish with the above. Done squared.

Either way, you're going to want to taste, as this can be rather bland if you don't season all the way through. And you're definitely going to want to add more broth, if the texture isn't right for you.

Bread
About 2 pounds of All-Purpose flour.
3/4 oz (3 packets or 6 and 3/4 teaspoons) of yeast. NOT INSTANT!!!
2 tablespoons sugar.
2 cups warm water, total.
2 tablespoons salt.

Mix together the yeast with the sugar and 1 cup of water.

In a big bowl, mix together the flour and salt. If you want to add fresh herbs, now's the time.
When the yeast has gotten kind of frothy, pour it into the flour bowl, and start mixing it together. Depending on your flour, you might need another whole cup of warm water. You may need less. You may need more. You don't want this dough to be too sticky.

Knead it until it feels done. Roughly 5 minutes, once the dough starts coming together in the bowl.

Put it in a bowl that has been rubbed with butter. I generally cover it with plastic wrap and aluminum foil, and leave it till it doubles in size (which happens quickly, because of the plastic wrap/foil.
Knock it down, and either knead it a second time, or get someone cute and strong, like my boyfriend, to knead it for you. Put it back in the bowl and cover it back up. Let it double a second time, and then gently put it in your buttered loaf pan, or turn it into a ball, rolls, country loaves, whatever, and score the top 3 or 4 times. Let it proof about 30 minutes, while the oven preheats to 425.

Bake for 20-25 minutes. You know it's done when it sounds like, "THUNK" on the bottom, instead of like a dead "THUD". Yes, there's a difference. If you can't hear it, ask someone who can. Don't let it burn.

Let it cool, on a rack, about 25 minutes, 30 at most.


This whole situation is delicious together. I'd say that you should do this as soon as possible.

This is the first meal I ever made for my boyfriend that really had meaning behind it. This bread is really quite easy. Basically the whole thing is beautiful and I hope it gets eaten by other people. You'll like this, you special, lovely people. I promise!!!

redemption song

Food can be a metaphor for life. When things are good, you want to go out for a nice meal. When things are bad, you want whatever your comfort food is. When people are sick, we make them soup. When they're sad, I make them cookies, or give them chocolate. When you're broke, you know you're broke, because you're surviving on ramen and pasta and not much else. When you're afraid to cook, you eat wasabi peas and a block of cheese for dinner.

There's a reason that when someone dies, people bring food by the house of the family. Most of the time, the family is too tired, too sad, to worn down to make food for themselves. People of a certain generation, generally the generation that grew up during WW2 and food rationing, see food as an ultimate gift, an ultimate show of care. Giving someone your food meant something to my grandmother's peers. Maybe it's skipped a generation, like knitting and charm bracelets, but to me, the highest form of comfort I can offer is food. That's why the kinds of food I like to cook best are comforting, homey foods - meatloaf, fried chicken, macaroni and cheese, soup. It makes me feel warm and safe to make these kinds of food, and it makes the people I'm cooking for feel warm and safe. Or so I like to tell myself.

I have a friend who has suffered a huge loss. Becoming an orphan at 26 is.... unfathomable for me. I haven't even got the strength to think about it without crying, because I loved her mom in the relationship that we had... I can't imagine living it. My biggest wish right now isn't for the right thing to say or the right thing to do. My biggest wish is that I could bake a batch of gluten-free chocolate chip cookies, and bring them home to her family. They're gluten free .... at least half of the kids can get terribly sick if they eat wheat gluten.

When Pop died, all of Gie's friends brought by something... lemon cake, or boysenberry squares, or a casserole or something. Nobody brought cookies, which is all we really wanted, because when we're at our lowest, Drewniaks want cookies. We want chocolate chips. We want sugar and all the comfort that comes with that. I wonder how many of my friend's mother's friends will know that their family doesn't do gluten.... one of my first concerns was that no one would bring them food. No one would bring them food that they could eat -- I had to tell my mother on the phone that they're gluten free, just in case she or my grandma had thought of bringing them food, so they had to have food made with rice flour, and possibly sweetened with honey or apple juice instead of sugar.... I'm not quite sure how sugar goes in the celiac world. I offered to test a recipe tomorrow, and send it to my mom with commentary, so she could bring them cookies or something from me.... I just don't know how to reach out to my friend without being smothering, and I somehow think that if I send food... if I give my love and my comfort that way, it will be.... if not enough then definitely not too much. If I figure out a way to give her and her siblings chocolate chip cookies, or brownies or bread.... if I can do that, then I can stop feeling so helpless. I can start doing something pro-active, with steps and a process and if I do this, if I at least test the recipe for my mom, I can feel like I'm doing something to help. I'll bring this friend baked goods until she screams at me to stop.... I'll make her lasagne with rice pasta, and macaroni and cheese and every other damn thing I can thing of.... because at least then I'm showing what I can't say adequately.

Food is love. It's life. Even if I can't adequately show my sadness for her.... even if there's no way to convey that as much as my heart is breaking for myself, for my loss of her mother.... it's breaking 3 billion times more for her, for her siblings, for the house that won't be home anymore, for the loss and the pain and everything else.... even if I can't show it, or say it, or convey it, I can nourish her. I can give her food, because I cook only out of love, and never out of necessity.... I didn't cook for just myself when there was no one else to cook for, because I don't love myself enough to spend this much energy on me. But for her, for my boyfriend, for others.... It's one of the best ways I can show how much I love someone.

It's life. Don't let anyone tell you different.

Good stuff.

I didn't mention this earlier, but a couple weeks ago, I taught my boyfriend about bread baking. We made a loaf of bread, and it was delicious, and even though I commandeered the production, I tried not to. I let him knead. I let him mix. Or at least, I tried....

I love teaching him how to bake, because it makes me think about our future... it makes me think about when we have the cafe, and it makes me think of him helping me get things off the ground... and helping and having this become ours instead of just my dream. I love it.

Since then, I've cooked copious amounts of food for Superbowl Sunday, only to see my first Superbowl party thwarted by watching my team lose.... Pizza bites and wings and dip and I did it all myself!!!

Last week, we made Panko-coated salmon and potato puree, with a pan sauce made out of Riesling and butter and pan juices. It was pretty lovely.

Tonight, I undertook meatloaf again. Personally, I have only good meatloaf experiences to think about. The first time I made it, I thought it was absolutely delicious, and was told by my roommate that it "wasn't meatloaf". I think that what she meant to say was that it wasn't the kind of meatloaf that her mother made. And my friend from work told me that meatloaf doesn't really taste like anything, it's about the sauce that you put on it. I don't really think that's a good idea, because that means that all that her mother's meatloaf was composed of was ground beef and possibly onions. Mine was delicious... ground beef and ground buffalo (I know, I know, bad bad bad but yummy!!!), sauteed mushrooms, diced shallots and garlic, panko, parmesan, Bisto, Worcestershire.... egg... bake.
To go with, I made gravy and roasted garlic mashed potatoes. They were nummy. It's probably the only food I make that I really truly just.... love. It's so good. I tried to let my boyfriend help this time, not because I don't like him helping but because I cook mostly by feel, and I'm not analytical unless I'm baking... and since he's a beginner cook, he needs description, and step by stepping... and sometimes I just cruise and feel bad that I left him sitting on the couch.
I work hard at trying to let my boyfriend help... I love cooking together because as much as I like to just cook for him when it's a surprise, sometimes I feel like it's more fun to cook if he's cooking with me - if we're cooking together, for each other. But it's hard for me to slow it down and go step by step - I have to work on that. Because he wants to cook with me, and I want him to cook with me, so I need to make cooking something that we can do together... something that we can share. Because that's my dream. Cooking together. being together. Sharing something that means so much to me, says so much about love and caring and everything.... that's what I want.

I just have to let him learn.