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.
20080331
20080330
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.
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.
20080329
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.
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.
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.
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.
20080325
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!!!
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!!!
20080219
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.
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.
20080210
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.
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.
20080124
Io Amo Spinacci.
Tonight, I think that I created my first recipe. Or at least, this is the first time that while walking home from work x2, I managed to think about the ingredients in my fridge, and come up with something I've never cooked or read about before. And I managed to keep it simple and not go overboard with the objects I thought of afterwords. A success all around.
Spaghetti with Spinach and Wild Mushrooms:
Heat up water for pasta.
As it's heating, chop/mince (whichever you want) two cloves of garlic, and slice about 7 shittake/cremini mushrooms.
When the water boils, drop the spaghetti, and turn on the gas under a skillet, with about a tablespoon or two of olive oil and a tablespoon of butter in it.
When it's warm, add the garlic and mushrooms.
Saute, while the pasta's boiling, and when the mushrooms are cooked, add the spinach. Saute, adding a little more butter if you want (I do) until the spinach is just cooked.
Drain the pasta, season the spinach/mushrooms with salt and crushed red pepper flake.
Throw a little more butter in with the pasta, toss, and then toss with the spinach and mushrooms. Add some parm if you feel like it (I did).
DEEEE Licious.
I'm really proud of myself because most of my cooking to this point has been out of recipes and stuff, out of books and magazines. But this, this I winged. This I came up with on my own and will continue to cook this for a long time.
More than anything, this gives me the confidence to follow my instincts. I mean, yes, obviously, spinach and mushrooms go well together. And nothing goes badly with pasta, butter, and garlic. But I thought of it, and I carried it out, and it was yumbly. This is a big thing. I'll hopefully be braver, and more free in the future after this success. Yes, there will still be bad recipes, bad events. But there will also be delicious goodness.
Since I have a lifetime of cooking to do, this is as good a place to start as any.
Spaghetti with Spinach and Wild Mushrooms:
Heat up water for pasta.
As it's heating, chop/mince (whichever you want) two cloves of garlic, and slice about 7 shittake/cremini mushrooms.
When the water boils, drop the spaghetti, and turn on the gas under a skillet, with about a tablespoon or two of olive oil and a tablespoon of butter in it.
When it's warm, add the garlic and mushrooms.
Saute, while the pasta's boiling, and when the mushrooms are cooked, add the spinach. Saute, adding a little more butter if you want (I do) until the spinach is just cooked.
Drain the pasta, season the spinach/mushrooms with salt and crushed red pepper flake.
Throw a little more butter in with the pasta, toss, and then toss with the spinach and mushrooms. Add some parm if you feel like it (I did).
DEEEE Licious.
I'm really proud of myself because most of my cooking to this point has been out of recipes and stuff, out of books and magazines. But this, this I winged. This I came up with on my own and will continue to cook this for a long time.
More than anything, this gives me the confidence to follow my instincts. I mean, yes, obviously, spinach and mushrooms go well together. And nothing goes badly with pasta, butter, and garlic. But I thought of it, and I carried it out, and it was yumbly. This is a big thing. I'll hopefully be braver, and more free in the future after this success. Yes, there will still be bad recipes, bad events. But there will also be delicious goodness.
Since I have a lifetime of cooking to do, this is as good a place to start as any.
20080123
Eggs on Toast and Eddie on Dvd
I have to say, I have been cooking a lot lately. Sunday night - roast chicken, risotto, overnight cinnamon roll prep. Lovely, lovely. Monday night - lentil soup, quiche, ciabatta bread that didn't really....ciabatt. Two out of three ain't too shabby. Tuesday night - yummy cheeseburgers with the cheese on the inside. Sneaky and quite yum.
So tonight, what my heart wanted was something that no one else was going to eat. When dogs wake you up at 4am peeing on their beds, and work is hard, and there's really no point in making a fuss, sometimes you just need something that you alone love.
Scrambled eggs and toast - I love really soft scrambled eggs, almost to the point of being undercooked. Shredded cheddar cheese, toasty rye bread, lots of butter.... yumtastic.
And now, lounging on the couch watching Eddie Izzard, feeling better than I did before. And really...that's the whole point of cooking for myself, I feel.
So tonight, what my heart wanted was something that no one else was going to eat. When dogs wake you up at 4am peeing on their beds, and work is hard, and there's really no point in making a fuss, sometimes you just need something that you alone love.
Scrambled eggs and toast - I love really soft scrambled eggs, almost to the point of being undercooked. Shredded cheddar cheese, toasty rye bread, lots of butter.... yumtastic.
And now, lounging on the couch watching Eddie Izzard, feeling better than I did before. And really...that's the whole point of cooking for myself, I feel.
20080121
Meet a Happy Fat Kid.
I've had this blog for almost a year, and I haven't posted yet. I'm not sure why. Probably, honestly, because I've been remarkably lazy about blog posts in general. I spend all day staring at a computer at work, so when I get home, I don't want to necessarily stare at a computer to blog.
But I'm going to, because it helps me to focus my energies, and I have something to look back at when I'm afraid I'll never be living my dream.
I'm 23. I live in Brooklyn. I work a desk job in finance, and 4 days a week I'm a nanny. By some gift of fate, I ended up nannying for a food family, so I have someone to talk to about cooking and food anytime I'm at work. I have a wonderful boyfriend, who's a bit of a foodie himself, who will eat whatever I cook and watch the food network with me all day on our days off.
I'm not a great cook, but I'm a good one, and I love to cook for people. In a strange way, I would rather cook for people than eat with them, but I suppose that explains why I'm only a happy fat kid on the inside. I'm not trained, except from watching tv and reading cookbooks (which I do all the time); I don't really know the difference between simmering and boiling, I'm not sure about the difference between "mince" and "dice", I've only just learned what it means to "sweat" garlic, and I definitely need to have my knives sharpened sometime soon, before I do myself serious injury. Some days I get home from work and all I feel like doing is opening up a bottle of wine, grabbing a book and a grilled cheese sandwich, and heading for my bed -- I'm not all that dedicated to cooking every single night. But some nights, when the day has been long, and my soul is tired and hungry, what I want to do is make the food that I know my heart is crying for. Sometimes, when there's an occasion, I'll splash out and buy something expensive like fresh tuna steaks, and do something fancy. When I know that my boyfriend and I have the apartment to ourselves for a night, or a weekend, or whatever, I'll plan something nice, but something homey - roast chicken, hamburgers, risotto, homemade bread, something like this. We both have a serious appreciation for restaurant food, but when it's just the two of us, sometimes it's nice to have a sort-of date, a sort-of harbinger of things to come.
But in the end, I'm not too picky, because the ideal breakfast for me is a slice of cold pizza, with a cup of coffee, hot or cold, fresh or not.
I love to cook for people for several reasons, and most of them are selfish. I love knowing that I've made something that makes whoever I'm feeding happy. I love seeing the "mmmmm" face that someone makes when they eat something that I've worked hard on for them - I love watching them totally shut off and just display their enjoyment, without filters or controls, eyes shut, big grin, mouth full. I also love not having to do dishes, because generally when I cook for people, they feel obligated to clean up. And what's better than that?
But I'm going to, because it helps me to focus my energies, and I have something to look back at when I'm afraid I'll never be living my dream.
I'm 23. I live in Brooklyn. I work a desk job in finance, and 4 days a week I'm a nanny. By some gift of fate, I ended up nannying for a food family, so I have someone to talk to about cooking and food anytime I'm at work. I have a wonderful boyfriend, who's a bit of a foodie himself, who will eat whatever I cook and watch the food network with me all day on our days off.
I'm not a great cook, but I'm a good one, and I love to cook for people. In a strange way, I would rather cook for people than eat with them, but I suppose that explains why I'm only a happy fat kid on the inside. I'm not trained, except from watching tv and reading cookbooks (which I do all the time); I don't really know the difference between simmering and boiling, I'm not sure about the difference between "mince" and "dice", I've only just learned what it means to "sweat" garlic, and I definitely need to have my knives sharpened sometime soon, before I do myself serious injury. Some days I get home from work and all I feel like doing is opening up a bottle of wine, grabbing a book and a grilled cheese sandwich, and heading for my bed -- I'm not all that dedicated to cooking every single night. But some nights, when the day has been long, and my soul is tired and hungry, what I want to do is make the food that I know my heart is crying for. Sometimes, when there's an occasion, I'll splash out and buy something expensive like fresh tuna steaks, and do something fancy. When I know that my boyfriend and I have the apartment to ourselves for a night, or a weekend, or whatever, I'll plan something nice, but something homey - roast chicken, hamburgers, risotto, homemade bread, something like this. We both have a serious appreciation for restaurant food, but when it's just the two of us, sometimes it's nice to have a sort-of date, a sort-of harbinger of things to come.
But in the end, I'm not too picky, because the ideal breakfast for me is a slice of cold pizza, with a cup of coffee, hot or cold, fresh or not.
I love to cook for people for several reasons, and most of them are selfish. I love knowing that I've made something that makes whoever I'm feeding happy. I love seeing the "mmmmm" face that someone makes when they eat something that I've worked hard on for them - I love watching them totally shut off and just display their enjoyment, without filters or controls, eyes shut, big grin, mouth full. I also love not having to do dishes, because generally when I cook for people, they feel obligated to clean up. And what's better than that?
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