tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67226815762642700182024-03-14T00:00:59.969-07:00A Perfect Omnivore... almost.Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10252082535877510532noreply@blogger.comBlogger247125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6722681576264270018.post-19963600611278380552012-02-14T17:00:00.000-08:002012-02-14T17:12:55.764-08:00The Food of LoveIt's Valentine's Day!<br /><br />I know there are probably a lot of you out there who, regardless of whether you're in love or not, scoff at the whole idea that one a particular day our love for each other must be expressed in a particular way. I get you. And I agree that we should express our love every day, and that the whole holiday is horrifically materialistic. Which doesn't mean that I didn't buy my husband heart-shaped candies or a card from the store. He bought me candy as well (and apparently has some second part of his gift for me when he gets home) but he bought it from our favorite local chocolate shop, Cowgirl Chocolates, and put it in a heart-shaped box I'd saved from a Valentine past (he thought I was crazy for saving it, and look how it turned out).<br /><br />And, of course, I'm making dinner.<br /><br />I had thousands of recipes to choose from when formulating this meal, to be sure. Books and books, plus the entire internet. I had to consider the hubby's favorite things, of course. Dessert came down to red velvet sandwich cookies or homemade chocolate chip ice cream sandwiches; the ice cream won the day. There will be wild rice with mushrooms and onions. I've opened a particularly nice bottle of wine we bought in Walla Walla, to let it breathe. Salad, so we'll feel at least a little healthy.<br /><br />But what about the main course? So many dishes I've made in the past have wowed my husband. He's been longing for salmon lately. He loves chicken. Indian food. Lamb. But I didn't want to make anything that felt at all mundane; I wanted a particularly special dish. To me, this would mean something highly complex and difficult. It might have meant duck en croute a la Julia Child. But for my husband, I knew there was one dish that would be a most delightful treat.<br /><br />I'm making Aussie Chicken.<br /><br />What is Aussie Chicken, you might ask? It's chicken breasts, slathered in honey mustard, bacon, mushrooms, and cheese. It's a riff on something from Outback Steakhouse, I believe, and we haven't had it in years. Not since before I really learned to cook. It's delightfully simple and exploding with flavor (code: salt, sugar, and fat).<br /><br />This is going to be a happy Valentine's Day.Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10252082535877510532noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6722681576264270018.post-4143176529388399922012-01-27T11:26:00.001-08:002012-01-27T11:40:05.362-08:00Veggies in DisguiseSince I've begun to think about reproducing, I've had kid-friendly food on the brain. Yes, I realize that any child I might bear won't be eating anything more complicated than breast milk or strained peas for at least a year after he or she comes into the world, a date which is yet to be determined. I've also read that I can train my child's palate, to a certain degree, through my choices of food while pregnant and breast-feeding. Theoretically, if I eat a lot of veggies while the kid is developing, he or she will develop a taste for them. But even if my kids come out loving broccoli and curry and liver (though that would be an anomaly, since I still can't stand the stuff, but who knows what one will crave while gestating) there's still something fun about sneaking vegetables into dishes that are otherwise nutritionally lacking. If nothing else, it's a good way to get the hubby and myself to eat more veggies, and to save on calories in the process.<br /><br />Last night, for example, I made macaroni (and cauliflower) and cheese. I would give you the recipe, but when I make a cheese sauce, I sort of eyeball it, and this would work with any mac and cheese recipe, though I believe I've seen a lot of these recipes around the web lately. I replaced about half of the pasta with cauliflower, which I dumped into the pasta water three minutes before the pasta was done, tossed it all in the sauce, and voila: a much healthier dinner. Because the hubby and I are adults and know we should eat our veggies, we ate it happily, but I did wonder if a child would be fooled. Everything in the dish was white (I used Swiss and Parmesan for the cheese sauce) but still, I could have picked out every single piece of cauliflower were I eight years old and picky.<br /><br />When I was little, my brother and I had an aversion to chunks of vegetables. It was the texture more than the taste that repelled us, so my mother put the vegetables in the blender before mixing them into her meatloaf or what-have-you. I've probably mentioned this before because I think it's genius. It's also a technique that would work beautifully with mac and cheese. Steam the cauliflower, make the cheese sauce, and then puree it together. Instead of supplementing the pasta, the cauliflower would supplement the cheese. Calories cut, either way. I will be trying this next time.Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10252082535877510532noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6722681576264270018.post-74242459903535351752012-01-13T16:34:00.001-08:002012-01-13T16:49:27.037-08:00The Siren Call: $2 Only<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iTJv8AD2xSI/TxDNsKeiGVI/AAAAAAAAArI/bOkoyeIsjnM/s1600/Ai7cp5-CQAACAIs.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iTJv8AD2xSI/TxDNsKeiGVI/AAAAAAAAArI/bOkoyeIsjnM/s400/Ai7cp5-CQAACAIs.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5697279687234034002" border="0" /></a>Over the years, I've developed a list of foods I really can't have in the house if I want to be at all healthy/avoid looking like a manatee. Of course, they're all cheap and easily accessible. Velveeta, for example, was banished many years ago--I could devour a whole brick in less than a week. Doritos, which at one point my iron stomach could take by the family-sized bagful. Sugar soda (I should probably bag diet, too, but I'm an addict). Donuts or packaged pastry of any kind. The cheaper and more mass-produced it is, the more it calls to my fat cells, begging me to buy it, rush home, eat it, hide the evidence, and ultimately confess to my husband what a pig I am. I do not do this with anything expensive because it would feel like a waste of money.<br /><br />Which is where these tortilla chips come in.<br /><br />There was a time when plain tortilla chips were safe, especially if we ran out of salsa. We don't usually keep nacho-friendly cheese in the house; our standards are usually Swiss for sandwiches, Mozzarella for flatbread pizza, and Parmesan for pretty much everything else. None of these are very good on a tortilla chip. Believe me. I've tried. But on top of plain chips requiring something extra to make them appeal, the good ones were mostly over three dollars a bag and the cheap ones tasted like cardboard. Maybe these taste like cardboard, too, to some people. But to me, they are much tastier than the other discount brands I've tried, and suddenly, they seem to be everywhere. Many places that pride themselves on low prices even trump the "$2 only" guarantee and sell them for a buck fifty. This makes them hard to resist.<br /><br />Because they're cheap, I'm more willing to spring for cheese to go with them. And I've become much more resourceful in the kitchen in the past few years, and thus able to turn pantry-and-fridge items into suitable sauces. Not gourmet by any means: This is bona fide junk food. The kind foodies are generally loathe to admit they enjoy, or that they really lose a taste for in their frenzy for fish eggs and raw cheeses. It appeals to a desire for salt and fat and leaves you feeling happily bloated.<br /><br />Sadly, I think these cheap chips have to make the no-fly list. Even if I buy them for a specific purpose, I can't resist the leftovers between meals. They call to me from the cupboard, beg me to dunk them in chili and sour cream, and won't quit until I've devoured them all. Maybe one day I'll be strong enough to resist their wiles, but for now, I must banish them. They'll go nicely with the banished Velveeta.Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10252082535877510532noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6722681576264270018.post-36220052296550442572012-01-08T12:04:00.000-08:002012-01-10T14:08:27.205-08:00Classic Indian Cooking<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ug7kfXgSiiQ/Twy21GQTXSI/AAAAAAAAAq8/wc1l-LgvISM/s1600/51V1E65BYEL._SL500_AA300_.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ug7kfXgSiiQ/Twy21GQTXSI/AAAAAAAAAq8/wc1l-LgvISM/s400/51V1E65BYEL._SL500_AA300_.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5696128652045147426" border="0" /></a><br />Last night, the hubby and I had a bit of an Indian cook-off. I made Chicken in Onion Tomato Gravy (<span style="font-style: italic;">Murgh Masala</span>) from Julie Sahni's <span style="font-style: italic;">Classic Indian Cooking</span>, a book we've owned for over a year and yet hadn't cooked from until last night. Ian made <span style="font-style: italic;">Saag Paneer </span>using <a href="http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/aarti-sequeira/saag-paneer-spinach-with-indian-cheese-recipe/index.html">a recipe from FoodNetwork.com</a>, courtesy of Aarti Sequeira.<br /><br />It was a learning experience. I learned a technique called brown frying, which is a lot like caramelizing but in a lot more oil. Ian learned that he is fully capable of following a recipe, and he produced a better <span style="font-style: italic;">Saag Paneer</span> than any I've ever had in a restaurant (it's not my favorite dish, so I'm not the best judge, but his--Aarti's--was pretty good) with no help at all. We learned that turmeric leaves yellow stains everywhere, especially when distributed through the spattering of oil.<br /><br />It turns out, it's pretty easy to make Indian food at home. With Ms. Sahni's (and Ms. Sequeira's) guidance, it all turned out wonderfully, and since we love Indian food but have no Indian restaurant in town (until we move across the state in May... counting the days) we have a wonderful alternative. I have prepared a lightened version of Rogan Josh a few times from a light cookbook we picked up at Costco, most of whose recipes are woefully lacking in seasoning (thankfully an easy fix) and I've bought pre-packaged sauces that always disappoint, but now I don't have to worry about any of that. I might have to worry about some oil spattering, since it seems the heat levels are higher in some of these cooking methods than I'm used to (I cook with electricity... another thing I'm hoping to remedy soon), but since I've had turmeric, cardamom, and coriander in my pantry for a while now, I'm sure we'll soon be having Indian once a week.Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10252082535877510532noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6722681576264270018.post-76731158686794202892012-01-04T08:02:00.001-08:002012-01-04T08:08:01.542-08:00Leftover Pie Crust<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Y4LNnk2TM-Y/TwR4LPlZFLI/AAAAAAAAAqw/nzq2qXlnGUc/s1600/IMG_4914.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Y4LNnk2TM-Y/TwR4LPlZFLI/AAAAAAAAAqw/nzq2qXlnGUc/s400/IMG_4914.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5693807963460408498" border="0" /></a><br />As long as I can remember, when making a pie, my mother would take the leftover scraps of dough, re-roll them into a flat amoeba (don't worry about the old adage not to roll a pie crust more than once--if it's a good dough and you're gentle with it, one more rolling won't hurt it), sprinkle it with cinnamon and sugar, and throw it in the oven. This crispy bit of sweet and fat was often more popular than the pie, and my dad, brother, and I would descend upon it (I had to tear this bit from my husband's clutches to get a photo before it was all gone). Happy family, and no waste.Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10252082535877510532noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6722681576264270018.post-24046650979734315392012-01-03T14:00:00.001-08:002012-01-03T14:25:20.417-08:00Brunch<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p0jPACQEl10/TwN9bSElpfI/AAAAAAAAAqk/D_FA_4PeOGE/s1600/IMG_4913.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p0jPACQEl10/TwN9bSElpfI/AAAAAAAAAqk/D_FA_4PeOGE/s400/IMG_4913.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5693532261587461618" border="0" /></a><br />It's only just beginning to feel (to me) like the new year has started. Those first couple vacation days, with my husband home and free license to loaf, don't feel like real time, but vacation time, and the new year is about making changes, right? Bettering oneself. At least for the first month or so. Which is partially why I just signed up for spinning and yoga classes through parks and rec. But like I said, the first couple days of the year don't count, calorie-wise especially. This has not been my stance in past years but I've spent the first couple (okay, three--but at least today I'm counting my calories to avoid overindulging) days eating French food and leftover Christmas fudge. So my view of the new year has become less puritanical and more relaxed. I don't want to spend 2012 chastising myself every time I slip up nutritionally or sleep in late or forget to work out.<br /><br />Instead of dieting on January 1st, I made quiche.<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-m2MgdErADZ0/TwN9THf6zHI/AAAAAAAAAqY/aM2P2c_rtN4/s1600/IMG_4909.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-m2MgdErADZ0/TwN9THf6zHI/AAAAAAAAAqY/aM2P2c_rtN4/s400/IMG_4909.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5693532121310350450" border="0" /></a><br />I realized, as I was making this quiche, that I have been grossly misinformed about quiches. Mainly because, in my six-to-eight-serving recipe, there were only two eggs. The rest was blue cheese, cottage cheese (I used 2% though it was a Julia Child recipe), half-and-half (the recipe called for cream, but the half-and-half, 2% cottage cheese result was still wonderfully creamy),butter, salt, white pepper, and a little green onion. Of course. Quiches are custardy. They're not omelettes in crusts.<br /><br />They are also delicious. This part I knew, but I chose the blue cheese quiche recipe from <span style="font-style: italic;">Mastering the Art of French Cooking</span> because I had blue cheese in the fridge, and I never could have guessed how wonderful it could be. And it was so simple. I did vary the recipe a tiny bit (see my lighter substitutions, previous paragraphs), but mostly in technique. I used a tart pan instead of a flan ring. I did not press my filling through a sieve to remove chunks; instead, I whipped it all up in the blender, which proved a smooth and frothy filling. Julia's pastry crust--mostly butter with a dash of shortening to keep it from crumbling--was fantastic. It was possibly the best brunch I've ever had, and most certainly the first brunch I've ever made. I had bought kiwi the day before for a special New Year's fruit, and cut up an apple, and served it with bubbly cran-apple juice (no mimosas for us--the hubby and I are not morning drinkers).<br /><br />But, though the quiche was delicious, it's gone now. The real new year is starting to gear up, with real obligations and deadlines and such. We won't be indulging in custard or pastry or custard in pastry until possibly Valentine's Day. But we'll be waiting patiently for our next chance.Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10252082535877510532noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6722681576264270018.post-82002083147997685342012-01-01T14:18:00.000-08:002012-01-01T14:51:12.613-08:00On the Rise<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rW99rRuhzYc/TwDgOtUtTCI/AAAAAAAAAqA/x08x-9agL3w/s1600/IMG_4917.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rW99rRuhzYc/TwDgOtUtTCI/AAAAAAAAAqA/x08x-9agL3w/s400/IMG_4917.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5692796472285547554" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I've heard it said that <a href="http://thebarking.com/2011/12/the-morning-after/">whatever you're doing on New Year's Day, you'll be doing all year long</a>. Which means that in 2012, I'll be quite productive (fingers crossed). Even after sleeping in and staying in my pajamas until almost noon, I've also deconstructed and packed away Christmas, made a lovely brunch (I'll tell you about the quiche a little later), and baked an absolutely incredible batch of French bread.<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RWkKSfnyk2w/TwDf7gGp1ZI/AAAAAAAAAp0/yn3ikPYMshE/s1600/IMG_4916.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RWkKSfnyk2w/TwDf7gGp1ZI/AAAAAAAAAp0/yn3ikPYMshE/s400/IMG_4916.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5692796142319424914" border="0" /></a><br />To be fair, I started the bread the day before yesterday. It's Julia Child's recipe, from <span style="font-style: italic;">Mastering the Art of French Cooking Volume 2</span>, and it requires a lot of rising. Because I didn't plan perfectly, my dough spent a lot of time in the fridge, rising as slowly as yeast bread can rise, and, maybe not rising enough. At least, the second two rises didn't seem as dramatic as Julia said it would be. But I pressed on, knowing that this was my first batch of French bread ever and as such unlikely to be perfect, and used the first method of steam infusion suggested in the book: a spray bottle (there is also a wet-brick method, but I was unsuccessful in finding a store that sold mason bricks until yesterday, and yesterday, they were closed). And then, after so much recipe reading, care and attention, I burned my loaves.<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Nc_gauOIDfw/TwDgZeNqfzI/AAAAAAAAAqM/07qeQiCGz38/s1600/IMG_4918.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Nc_gauOIDfw/TwDgZeNqfzI/AAAAAAAAAqM/07qeQiCGz38/s400/IMG_4918.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5692796657208033074" border="0" /></a><br />Not to worry. They may have been dark on the outside, but the crust was thick and crackling, and the bread inside so tasty (and webbed with the characteristic air bubbles French bread is famous for) that it was difficult to believe it was made of only flour, water, yeast and salt. But that's what French bread is. There's actually a law in France forbidding any bread with other ingredients to be called "French." And yet it had more flavor than the "sourdough" I'd been making from my <span style="font-style: italic;">Better Homes & Gardens Cookbook</span>. It wasn't kneaded long at all, but it seemed more glutenous than any of the long-kneaded breads I've produced.<br /><br />It seems the secret ingredient in French bread (not to discount the many various techniques used in producing it) is time. It needs to sit and rise, not just double, but triple, and not just twice, but thrice. It needs to be left alone. It needs to rest. This seems appropriate, considering it's New Year's Day, a day when many of us lounge after a night's festivities. You see, I used to think that I never wanted to be lazy on New Year's Day, because it would set a lazy tone for the rest of the year. I thought if I slept in and watched cooking shows, if I didn't count my calories or jump immediately into work, there would be some sort of pattern set, as if January 1st might be the most important day of the year. But this year, I let myself rest. I lazed much of the morning away, drinking coffee and watching TV shows. And my rest did its job. It replenished me. And then I wanted to clean up the apartment, cooked and baked and took down Christmas lights. I was better for it. Just like my bread.Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10252082535877510532noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6722681576264270018.post-28169149889412227622011-12-30T08:28:00.000-08:002011-12-30T08:48:15.471-08:00New Resolutions, New RecipesOne year ago, I was formulating a project in which I would broaden my palate and challenge myself to cook and eat new foods. I had recently read Jeffrey Steingarten's <span style="font-style: italic;">The Man Who Ate Everything</span> and thought his quest to become a less picky eater was not only admirable, but something I'd had a long time coming. I borrowed a phrase from him for a title and created a blog. Thus, "A Perfect Omnivore" was born.<br /><br />As you might have noticed (or not, if you're new here), I missed very few days for the first four months of this project--only one to my recollection but I haven't gone back and checked--and only a few more in the second four months, though my "new foods" were at times a bit uncreative. When the third four months came, I fell off the blogosphere.<br /><br />You see, cooking something new every day is hard. You knew that. But it's not just difficult to commit to culinary feats each night of the week; it's expensive, wasteful, fattening, time consuming, and just not very plausible. Even Julie Powell, whose book (and the movie based on it) were, admittedly, inspirations behind my food blogging (and probably 1,742 others out there, to make a conservative guess) did not cook French food every night in her quest to cook her way through <span style="font-style: italic;">Mastering the Art of French Cooking</span> in a year. She had Eric's Spicy Thursdays, when he would make things involving jalapenos and hot sauce to cleanse all that rich creamery butter off her palate. She would get into funks and miss days because she felt like it. But I thought, Hey--she's working a 9-to-5 job in New York, with a long commute, and has way less time to commit to food than I do, so of course I can do it every day. She also had less of a fear of getting fat than I do (she gained, naturally, 20 pounds over the course of the project; I refuse to do the same). And, while I don't have a day job, I do write, and do various editing projects, and I'm learning to play the guitar and crochet and in a few days I start rehearsals on a play--et cetera.<br /><br />Excuses, excuses, right?<br /><br />But, I must admit, I have missed food blogging. I have missed having a "good excuse" to be obsessed with food, even if it was unhealthy for me. So I've come up with a new project for myself, which is not nearly so intense, but might result in better blog posts for you to read (I hope) and less mania on my end. I do want to keep cooking new foods and using the many (many many) cookbooks I have sitting on my shelves. I also want to use the culinary knowledge I've accrued over the years to create new recipes, if I can.<br /><br />So I plan to post at least once a week, chronicling my more leisurely culinary experiments, and one of a more intense variety: About once a month, I plan to give myself a Chopped Challenge based on interesting foods in the grocery store and/or foods that have been lounging around in my fridge/cupboards. I will give myself three "mystery ingredients" and challenge myself to create a recipe from them--not in a twenty-minute time frame like on the show, but with a fair amount of planning and forethought, so it's not just a waste of food.Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10252082535877510532noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6722681576264270018.post-45556298596076068932011-10-20T16:35:00.000-07:002011-10-20T17:10:38.746-07:00Cafe BouludThis last week, the hubby and I went to New York City as a sort of birthday celebration (yesterday, I turned 27; tomorrow, he turns 29), and one of my mom's former coworkers, Gavin Kaysen (you might remember him from Iron Chef America) is the executive chef at a restaurant in Manhattan, so of course we made reservations. I didn't realize, when we made these reservations, that his restaurant was between Madison and Park, or that I would be dining near real, live millionaires. I didn't realize that in certain cities, fancy restaurants are not just someplace normal people go to feel fancy; there are actually people who are fancy down to their cores. People who think that Belgian endive salad and duck confit ravioli aren't necessarily fancy food, but just food. Who joke about burning $100 bills (you think I'm making this up, but I'm not) at the table next to you. Who make you wish you were down occupying Wall Street instead of wasting a bunch of money on a meal that you didn't actually enjoy as much as your hole-in-the-wall-slice-of-pizza lunch.<br /><br />Not that the food wasn't wonderful. The ravioli was delicious and beautifully presented. The dark chocolate mousse we had for dessert looked like a small piece of art. But the servers didn't seem to know what to make of me and my husband, obviously tourists, in outfits that probably cost less than the tablecloth. They weren't exactly rude, but they didn't exactly engage us, either. I don't blame them, really; we obviously weren't going to rack up a large bill, which means they weren't going to earn a very big tip. And while in the area I live in, "fancy" restaurant servers can probably afford to live in the nicest apartments around, or even pay a mortgage, in Manhattan I wondered how far out in the boroughs the busboy or the coat check girl had to live, or whether they had to hold other jobs. I've seen <span style="font-style: italic;">Sex and the City</span> and <span style="font-style: italic;">Selling New York</span>. I know, generally, how much fancy New York real estate costs. And even with generous tips, I doubt any server could afford it.<br /><br />Basically, this made me feel really bad about being there. Normally, I would feel self-conscious, as though everyone there was judging me, but I don't think any other customers actually looked at me all night. And I was so busy judging them, I didn't care what they thought. Most of them barely looked at their food, drank their expensive wine like it was Diet Coke. It was like they didn't know how lucky they were to be eating there, to have the luxury of food that has been so carefully crafted and wine that has been aged for years in French oak--to have the luxury of affording it.<br /><br />So the next day, we shared a street vendor pretzel and hot dog for lunch. Pub food for dinner. No guilt involved.Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10252082535877510532noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6722681576264270018.post-81464238260420631882011-10-02T19:26:00.000-07:002011-10-02T19:28:42.411-07:00Parsnip/Pumpkin Beer Soup<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-a-slTA5OL5Q/Tokd0b2bjWI/AAAAAAAAAnI/oLeZANjmXxQ/s1600/IMG_4657.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 295px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-a-slTA5OL5Q/Tokd0b2bjWI/AAAAAAAAAnI/oLeZANjmXxQ/s400/IMG_4657.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5659087193434197346" border="0" /></a><br />2 tbsp olive oil<br />1 lb parsnips, peeled, trimmed, and chopped<br />1 large carrot, peeled and chopped<br />1 small onion, diced<br />1 stalk celery, chopped<br />two medium potatoes, peeled and chopped<br />one cup pumpkin beer<br />three cups water<br />two bouillon cubes<br />dash nutmeg<br />salt<br />pepper<br /><br />In a large pot, heat the olive oil; saute onion, carrot, and celery about five minutes. Season with salt, pepper, and nutmeg. Add parsnips and potatoes; saute about two minutes more. Add beer, water, and bouillon; bring to a boil, reduce to simmer; simmer about twenty minutes, until all veg are soft. Puree in a blender or with immersion blender. Garnish with sour cream (reduced fat works well) and croutons (homemade are always delicious), and serve with pumpkin beer.Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10252082535877510532noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6722681576264270018.post-18736627806497975492011-09-28T14:36:00.001-07:002011-09-28T14:39:44.168-07:00Fried Eggs<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MNWkQa0ygyY/ToOTvEPKV-I/AAAAAAAAAmI/VfQATY5ZpsQ/s1600/IMG_4644.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MNWkQa0ygyY/ToOTvEPKV-I/AAAAAAAAAmI/VfQATY5ZpsQ/s320/IMG_4644.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657527993707943906" border="0" /></a><br />I fried my first egg the other day. I had one bite and Ian finished it. Apparently some of my food conditioning has worn off; it's still tough for me to swallow eggs that are cooked with the whites and yolks separate. Plus that goop underneath it is a very rich cheese sauce that just made the whole thing too rich; I ended up eating the bread and sauce while Ian ate the egg. I'll try this again. I will. Drat you eggs.Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10252082535877510532noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6722681576264270018.post-21675350796573937292011-09-27T14:05:00.001-07:002011-09-27T14:07:25.634-07:00Brown SugarHave you ever <a href="http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/alton-brown/homemade-dark-brown-sugar-recipe/index.html">made your own brown sugar?</a> It's as easy as adding molasses to white granulated sugar and whizzing it up in the food processor. It's great in a pinch--I'm making cinnamon rolls and so I added the cinnamon (and a little nutmeg) right into the mix. Should be yummy!Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10252082535877510532noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6722681576264270018.post-38838979184660037132011-09-27T12:53:00.001-07:002011-09-27T12:54:31.818-07:00CurlicueSo, I'm kind of addicted to blogging, and not only is this project nearing its close, but I've been itching to have a little more freedom in what I blog about, and this site is a little restrictive in subject, huh? So I created a new blog, just for fun. Check it out:<br /><a href="curlicuedoes.blogspot.com"><br />curlicuedoes.blogspot.com</a>Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10252082535877510532noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6722681576264270018.post-32496218753611968902011-09-27T12:40:00.000-07:002011-09-27T12:50:55.088-07:00Pattypan Potato Soup<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bVwExNmmaCA/ToInudblGXI/AAAAAAAAAlo/VbjRPoacphI/s1600/patty-pans-197.gif"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 197px; height: 166px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bVwExNmmaCA/ToInudblGXI/AAAAAAAAAlo/VbjRPoacphI/s320/patty-pans-197.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657127761058535794" border="0" /></a>I recently bought a ten-pound bag of potatoes, which is twice what I normally buy, but the grocery store employees were having a nice, leisurely chat while "restocking" the five-pounders, and I wasn't in the mood to interrupt them. So I figured I ought to make potato soup, which used up about a pound of them (only nine more to go!). I'd also bought a few pattypan squash at last week's farmer's market and needed to find a use for them (they're so cute, I couldn't resist). So I chopped them up and threw them into my pot. Once everything had gotten nice and soft, I ran the whole mess (potatoes, onion, thyme, squash, garlic, chicken stock) through the food mill, and boy was it a satisfying dinner, and healthy to boot. I added a little low-fat sour cream to our bowls before serving, but other than that there really wasn't much fat (I maybe used a quarter cup of oil to saute the onion). It was hearty and sort of sweet and nutty; all the great things about potato soup and squash combined. Hurray for last minute inventions.Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10252082535877510532noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6722681576264270018.post-16025366713091943522011-09-26T17:06:00.000-07:002011-09-27T09:27:27.688-07:00Everybody Can Can!Obviously, I haven't been posting much. I've made a few new things, though I'll admit I haven't been sticking to my 7 recipes a week model. Funny how that happened. I got to this part of my resolution and suddenly I didn't feel so excited to learn new methods of cooking. But then, this weekend, I got to try canning for the first time with a friend I rarely get to see, and it sort of reminded me why I got into cooking in the first place.<br /><br />You see, I'm usually in my kitchen cooking alone. I'm usually staving off boredom, or trying to convince myself that one day I'll have people to cook for besides my husband, people to cook <span style="font-style: italic;">with</span> besides my husband. Not that I don't love cooking for and with my husband; it's just that we live here, with these pots and pans, every day. There isn't much <span style="font-style: italic;">special</span> about making chili for the millionth time, even my special pumpkin chipotle turkey chili. It's practical. It's normal. At one point, cooking together was super romantic and it bonded us together, but at this point I don't know that there's any bonding left to do. It's like saying you'll bond with your own organs.<br /><br />But this weekend, I was able to cook with someone I've never cooked with before. On top of that, she taught me something: she taught me the basics of canning. We made blueberry syrup and blueberry butter (no part of the blueberry was wasted). It was a cool fall morning with a bit of a bluster outside, but we cooked the fruit on the deck, on this super cool gas stove, and we put screens on top of the pots to keep the pine needles out. While we waited for the juice to drain for the syrup, we talked about Cary Grant and how we really prefer him in comedic roles, like in <span style="font-style: italic;">Arsenic and Old Lace</span> (which Ian and I watched when we got home, later that evening). And when we were done, we had lovely sealed jars of some really fantastic product, good for keeping for at least a year. My friend also sent me home with several other jams and such that she'd canned earlier this year, several of which are experiments in a special kind of pectin that allows jams and jellies to set with less sugar. I can't wait to try them all. I'm going to have to bake some bread.Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10252082535877510532noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6722681576264270018.post-26637360511201791872011-09-23T10:10:00.000-07:002011-09-23T10:14:35.055-07:00Lentils and Brown Rice and Kale, Oh My!Last night I set out to make a variation on Giada DeLaurentiis' <a href="http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/giada-de-laurentiis/goat-cheese-lentil-and-brown-rice-rolls-recipe/index.html">goat cheese, lentil, and brown rice rolls</a>, which involve rolling a hearty vegetarian mixture into swiss chard leaves, but alas and alack! The kale leaves I planned to use weren't big enough. So instead, I chopped it, blanched it, and stirred it in with my mixture, which contained brown rice, lentils, ricotta, mozzarella, tomato sauce, and onions. Baked it all together with a crust of Grana Padano (purchased in lieu of Parmesan because it's cheaper... not bad, but definitely not Parm), and boy was it satisfying. A perfect hearty dinner that didn't weigh us down... we had yoga class at seven.Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10252082535877510532noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6722681576264270018.post-54337494281952446762011-09-20T11:01:00.000-07:002011-09-20T11:09:46.322-07:00Beer and Pretzel... Caramel!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-y_BKOXPyJgo/TnjW4HQDfLI/AAAAAAAAAkU/sQf1_JB7Qb4/s1600/FNM_100111-WEDinners-010-0_s4x3_lg.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-y_BKOXPyJgo/TnjW4HQDfLI/AAAAAAAAAkU/sQf1_JB7Qb4/s200/FNM_100111-WEDinners-010-0_s4x3_lg.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5654505591671061682" border="0" /></a>I have discovered the world's most addictive caramel. If you're going to make this, be sure you have a lot of people to share it with, or you will end up consuming a pound of sugar and fat in only a few days. This caramel is sweet, but not too sweet, with a dark depth to it. It's salty, especially on the finish, because it is full of pretzel pieces, which also give it a fantastic texture. It's a wonderful fall dish, perfect for any event where you'd normally serve beer and pretzels; my husband actually had a poker game on Friday and it was only after he got back that we realized we should have sent the caramels with him as his snack contribution. Next time.<br /><br />Of course, next time, my caramel might taste more like beer. You see, I got this recipe from Food Network Magazine, and it called for me to reduce a certain amount of beer (I used Sam Adams Oktoberfest) down to two teaspoons, which I tried to do--but when it was at maybe a quarter cup, I went and checked my email, and by the time I got back, it was just a sticky film inside my pot. So, lesson learned. A neglected pot over-reduces. Anyway, this syrup was supposed to be stirred in at the end of the caramel's cooking process, along with the pretzels, and this would give it a little more beery kick. Which would be good, but I have to say, it was wonderful without it.<br /><br />If you want to try this recipe, click <a href="http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/food-network-kitchens/beer-pretzel-caramels-recipe/index.html">here</a>.Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10252082535877510532noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6722681576264270018.post-59950794287402841012011-09-20T10:46:00.000-07:002011-09-20T10:56:27.558-07:00A Strange Little Snack<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3MWZLIndIuA/TnjTxCxssMI/AAAAAAAAAkM/9J5SKl-aO60/s1600/IMG_4634.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3MWZLIndIuA/TnjTxCxssMI/AAAAAAAAAkM/9J5SKl-aO60/s320/IMG_4634.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5654502171676029122" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: left;">A while ago, we bought butter crackers for out beet green gratin, which is something we never do--having crackers in the house is like an invitation for me to binge. But this time, I was pretty good about rationing them, and along the way, I created my new favorite breakfast/lunch/snack.</div><br />You see, I went through this phase a couple weeks ago where I was craving eggs. I don't know why--other proteins just didn't seem to cut it. So one day I scrambled up a few, and it occurred to me that I had this wonderful havarti cheese in the fridge, and the crackers in the cupboard, and... voila. Topped it with a little ketchup (I know this makes the whole thing sound silly but it needs a little acidity to cut the richness of the eggs, cheese, and crackers--it's also delicious with green chili sauce). Oh my goodness. Silly, but good.Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10252082535877510532noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6722681576264270018.post-20543316907093844182011-09-08T09:26:00.000-07:002011-09-20T10:45:59.373-07:00Wilton Flower<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OvlYOuh-TdM/TnjRTw7pm7I/AAAAAAAAAj8/Szt4OMgNS80/s1600/IMG_4629.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OvlYOuh-TdM/TnjRTw7pm7I/AAAAAAAAAj8/Szt4OMgNS80/s400/IMG_4629.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5654499469646470066" border="0" /></a><br />Last night I went to my very first cake decorating class and made my very first frosting stars on some sugar cookies (I realized later that I should have tried a new recipe for this, since I had the opportunity, but I have found that very few recipes provide truly flat cookies to decorate and so I went with my tried and true unleavened holiday sugar cookies). It was an interesting experience, one designed to get me out of the house and among other living, breathing human beings (the people in my TV set apparently don't count). It was also designed to teach me a few things about decorating cakes, which I did, though I also had to sit through a lot of babble about things I already knew and resist the urge to snark about the decorating frosting being called "buttercream" when it contained no butter (except the Wilton butter flavoring) and choke when the instructor said things like "I don't put salt in any of my food" and "I'm not an icing person, even if it's really good icing."<br /><br />Needless to say, this class was not at Le Cordon Bleu. It was in the break room at Michael's. I had five classmates, none of whom would speak (except the two college girls who whispered incessantly to each other), forcing me to be the nerdy kid who reads the instructions as the teacher demonstrates. But, like I said, I did learn to make little frosting stars. I also learned a couple of interesting things, some of which I have to take the teacher's word for (until I get a chance to test them) and some I saw in action.<br /><br />1. Many off-brand powdered sugars are made with beet sugar (I believe that), which changes the consistency of frosting (needs testing).<br />2. When filling cakes, make a dam out of frosting to keep the filling in. (So simple, but a lightbulb clicked on!) This means you should pipe a thick line of frosting around the bottom layer of the cake, then fill inside that, then add the top layer.<br />3. Shortening used to contain Trans Fat, but it doesn't anymore. This means older shortening-based recipes might need adjusting with the new product.<br />4. When filling a piping bag, here's a very handy technique: make a "sausage" by putting the frosting in plastic wrap and twisting the ends. Cut off one of the ends and place that end toward the tip of the bag. This makes for super easy clean-up and no frosting on your hands!Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10252082535877510532noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6722681576264270018.post-24839911533648007412011-09-06T17:57:00.000-07:002011-09-06T18:00:38.158-07:00Heirloom Tomato on ToastI had my first ever heirloom tomato today (no, I don't remember which variety... I was so excited to find them at the farmer's market that I forgot to write it down). This isn't really a new recipe, exactly, as I kind of made it up based on what I had in the fridge, but it was a yummy and satisfying lunch. Even my tomato-hating husband liked it (or pretended he did). Here's what it was:<br /><br />Toasted bread (I used my homemade sourdough that isn't really very sour) rubbed with a cut clove of garlic, spread with neufchatel cheese (the low-fat cream cheese), sprinkled with balsamic vinegar, topped with a hefty slice of tomato, sprinkled with salt.<br /><br />Yum, yum, yum.Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10252082535877510532noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6722681576264270018.post-76108359780583804602011-09-05T13:20:00.000-07:002011-09-05T13:27:24.120-07:00Beet Green GratinWhen I buy beets, I often tell myself I'm going to use the greens, but inevitably they end up in the trash. Which is a shame, really, because they're a viable food--chard is actually a form of beet stem, according to Alton Brown (I tend to believe him). But like celery tops or fennel fronds, I often save them until they wilt or take up too much refrigerator real estate, and then, since I haven't thought what to do with them, they get tossed out with the trash.<br /><br />But not last night. Oh no--this time, I had more use for the greens than the beets themselves. In fact, I have two beets leftover, waiting to be roasted some night this week. This time I found a recipe in my Good Eats cookbook--a beet green gratin. I had to modify it a bit--I didn't have a full pound of beet greens so I rounded out the filling with some finely diced potatoes and the flesh of two beets (which, of course, turned the mixture pink, even after several rinsings--I am convinced that beets' pinkiness could be parlayed into enticement for little girls to eat their vegetables--pink potato puree!). Together with some sauteed mushrooms and garlic and a ricotta cheese mixture to bind it, this was a delicious and hearty vegetarian dinner. Good eats, indeed.Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10252082535877510532noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6722681576264270018.post-57253131807473458962011-09-05T13:18:00.000-07:002011-09-05T13:20:28.797-07:00KohlrabiDay before yesterday, I had my first kohlrabi--I also prepped it, though Ian did the actual cooking on the grill. I had read that it tasted like broccoli stems, but I didn't expect it to taste EXACTLY LIKE BROCCOLI STEMS. Strange to buy a spiky reddish purple thing at the farmer's market and discover you could have simply bought broccoli.Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10252082535877510532noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6722681576264270018.post-17865526592743272382011-09-02T18:07:00.000-07:002011-09-02T18:11:10.846-07:00CarbonaraTonight, I made my first real <a href="http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/emeril-lagasse/classic-spaghetti-carbonara-recipe/index.html">spaghetti carbonara</a>. I've made pasta dishes that call themselves carbonara before, but they've involved bechamel type white sauces instead of the saucy eggs the traditional recipe calls for. I have to say, I was nervous about that part. I expected the eggs to scramble or curdle on me and make a big old mess. But, magically, the pan was the right temperature as I swirled in the eggs and it created this lovely creamy sauce, just as planned. Of course, my dish wasn't perfect... I used turkey bacon instead of pig bacon, so it wasn't really crispy and there wasn't that real bacony flavor, which, for a recipe with so few ingredients, is pretty important. But it was still tasty in a slightly less fattening way, and super quick. This will definitely grace my table again.
<br />Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10252082535877510532noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6722681576264270018.post-66262228654988315222011-09-01T17:21:00.000-07:002011-09-01T17:25:17.495-07:00Kettle Corn InnovationI have this recipe in a low-cal cookbook for maple kettle corn, and today I decided to try it. Except I didn't have the maple sugar the recipe called for. I did have maple syrup and white sugar, so I used a combination of the two. I don't think this is the only reason for my kettle corn failure, but I think it's a big one.
<br />
<br />The biggest reason I think my kettle corn didn't turn out is that I didn't heat the oil before throwing in the corn kernels and sugary stuff, which meant it all blended into a caramel far too soon. The second reason is that I used a liquid sugar which, again, formed a premature caramel. This caramel trapped the corn kernels, keeping most of them from popping. The kernels that did pop were trapped within the unpopped kernels, and by the time a few handfuls have popped, the caramel was burned.
<br />
<br />So there was that.
<br />
<br />But that's how you learn, right? You make a mistake, you learn from it. Next time I try kettle corn, I will not make these mistakes.
<br />Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10252082535877510532noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6722681576264270018.post-17840861339822515272011-08-30T10:59:00.000-07:002011-08-30T11:20:07.119-07:00The Approach of Phase ThreeSeptember 1 is right around the corner, which means the year is almost two-thirds over, which means my project is set to switch gears. <span style="font-style: italic;">Switch gears?</span> you might be thinking. <span style="font-style: italic;">Were you in gear in the first place?</span> Touche, you. I have been sitting around idling lately, it's true, not blogging about food at all. I've been attempting to lose weight while battling a difficult bout of post-graduate depression (the economy is bad enough, but living in an armpit college town while not attending college means that most jobs are hogged by college kids and professors' spouses, or the spouses of the engineers at the town's one major business--all of whom have more specific qualifications than I do while not having the overqualification of a master's degree... plus I'm a depressive sort, anyway, and I've had some difficult rejections for my fiction lately... who cares, right?).
<br />
<br />SIDENOTE: Let me ask you a question. If you had the opportunity to be a full-time writer, no pressure to contribute financially, would you do it? Or would setting your own deadlines/working alone/risking total failure without even a pittance of a salary to make you feel like time wasn't totally wasted be too daunting? Or would you rather get a job assembling electronics? (That really was one question... with sub-questions.)
<br />
<br />Here's where my life stands right now. I've applied for just about every non-customer-service job opportunity in town, and I'm currently waiting for a phone call about an interview for a job I actually want (most of the other applications were for jobs I didn't care much about, which I'm sure showed in my cover letters and led to my not being hired). I'm volunteering at the animal shelter once a week, and have a scratch down my arm from one particularly feisty kitten that could make someone think I tried to commit suicide. I'm getting a little bit of writing done, but not enough. I have no local friends. I've dropped cooking/eating for this project because it seems pointless to me right now, and because for me, weight loss often means eschewing food as pleasure. I do have a ton of time right now, but I'm crossing my fingers that I won't soon, because I'm always happier when I'm busy. And if I do get busy, here's how I want to handle phase three: Instead of one recipe a day, I will cook seven new recipes a week.
<br />
<br />
<br />Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10252082535877510532noreply@blogger.com0