The Neon Celery Kitchen

Occupy My Time

2011-10-26T15:42:00.003-04:00

We've all heard about the "Occupy" protests by now. We've all heard about "the other 99%." But, I have a feeling that, come this holiday season, "the other 99%" will be pouring their dollars into the 1%'s pockets to pay for all sorts of noise-making, space-taking, plastic toys for their children and the children they love.

I propose a project called "Occupy My Time." Instead of giving the children you love ANOTHER toy that will collect dust on a shelf, how about giving your time? I challenge the people who really believe in change to start making those changes for the newest generation.

Who remembers what toy they were given the holiday when they were ten? I don't. But, I do remember my Grandma taking me to see A Chorus Line on a community stage. I didn't understand the play yet, but I really enjoyed the music, the experience, and the day out with my Grandma.

"Occupy My Time" gifts can be as simple as a gift card to spend a day at the park, one-on-one with a child in your life. Or, it can be as complex as promising lessons, or going to a museum, or having a day out walking around your nearest city. Think about what you love and enjoy doing. Do you love to hike? How about giving a promise for a hike with the child? Do you love art, baking, music, woodworking? All of that can translate to a project specially designed to share with a child of any age.

For those who really can't imagine walking in to a holiday celebration without a physical gift, I suggest making the gift small and linking it to time spent together. How about a chapter book just above the reading level of a child you are giving it to? It can come with a commitment to read a chapter together every week (or day, if it is coming from someone who lives in the house). If you want to do an art project, maybe purchase the supplies so you have something wrapped to hand the child. If you are planning on baking or cooking with a child, how about a homemade child-sized apron, or a set of measuring cups and spoons.

We can change the way "wealth" is viewed by children. Instead of collecting toys that all seem the same after a while, they can start collecting experiences, and memories of good times spent with the adults they love. Instead of throwing our hard-earned money at companies whose sole purpose is to make our children want more and more, we can create fun activities that might foster a lifelong hobby (and are a whole lot cheaper than all that plastic). Let's get together to give our children something better this holiday season--let's get together, and "Occupy Their Time."

Happy Days: Lemon Dressing

2011-04-10T09:22:00.008-04:00

For the next six months or so, I Heart Cooking Clubs is focusing on the recipes of Jamie Oliver. I am very excited about this prospect, because Jamie's recipes tend to focus on fresh, seasonal ingredients. What better chef to highlight during the April to September growing season?

Here in New England, it's not quite the growing season yet. We're starting to tuck pea seeds into the ground. We're beginning to look forward to fresh asparagus coming in within the next month or so. But, it's far from a bountiful time right now. As a matter of fact, I often think of the very beginning of spring as the worst time for produce around here. The apples from last fall have gotten mealy with age. The potatoes and garlic are starting to sprout. Yet, the early crops that we so look forward to--asparagus, fiddleheads, strawberries, and peas--are still a ways away. All the produce in the supermarket is shipped in from far away, yet we are so ready for the fresh, light tastes that come with warmer weather.

Ah, the warmer weather. THAT we are beginning to have. Yesterday, it was sunny and the temperature rose to the mid-60s. In our house, we turned the thermostat down to 50, opened all the windows and let the fresh air in. We celebrated the beginning of true spring (because, really, in New England, March 21 is just a date among dates--we know we have a few weeks left of winter weather yet to come).

This week's I Heart Cooking Club theme is "Happy Days," and yesterday was just that. While Jasper took his afternoon nap, Kurt and I sliced up a fresh (though far from local) salad. I baked brownies (that didn't set up, but that's a different story altogether), and we made two homemade salad dressings. We packed all of this up, in addition to a growler of homebrew, some biodegradable bowls, jars of bubbles, a playground ball, an armload of hula hoops and a blanket, and headed out of our local orchard. There, we met three other families from our play group for a potluck picnic and general frolicking.

We spent three hours at the orchard, chatting, eating wonderful food (Thai curry noodles, muffins, and many beautiful veggie pizzas arrived from the other families), playing, and drinking in the sunshine. I couldn't possibly think of a better way to spend a Saturday in early spring.

So, thank you, Jamie Oliver, for an extremely simple, but refreshing dressing recipe. Thank you, I Heart Cooking Clubs, for the perfect theme for the week. Thank you, to the play group, for the awesome idea for the picnic and the wonderful company. And, thank you, spring, for finally arriving. There are happy days ahead.

Jamie Oliver's Jam Jar Lemon Dressing
increased from this link
9 Tbs olive oil
juice of 1 1/2 lemons
a few grinds of sea salt
a few grinds of black pepper

Combine everything in a mason jar. Screw the lid on tight. Shake vigorously, doing a "happy spring dance," if you wish.

The Tragedy of Brown (and Electric Orange) Food

2011-04-09T09:09:00.008-04:00

I haven't posted in a while. My little man, now 15 months old, has been taking all my energy. By the time he's in bed at night, all I can think of doing is collapsing on the couch to read or watch some DVDs. I miss writing, though, so I would like to get better about cooking and blogging. In the meantime, here's one of my semi-philosophical rants. I was reading Laura's post over on the the Spiced Life about her experience bringing her children to a "non-kid-friendly restaurant." You can read her excellent post about it here.

Laura hit a nerve for me with her post. It's something I've been thinking about a lot. My little family goes out to eat more than we should. Take last night, for example. It was finally Friday. It had been a rough week--Jasper had a cold and ran his very first fever. We had been couped up in the house all week. Jasper was finally better--the fever had been gone for two days, and his runny nose had finally stopped. When Kurt got home, we just wanted to get OUT. So, we went out to eat. We sat down, and found the same kids meal menu that seems to be at EVERY restaurant. Our choices were all brown or orange. Chicken fingers. Grilled cheese. Mac and cheese. A cheeseburger. Buttered pasta noodles (optional marinara sauce--yay for some red???). It's the same everywhere we go, regardless of the cuisine. A Mexican restaurant might add a quesedilla onto the list. A barbecue place might add ribs. Not that Jasper can eat ribs on his own yet. But, that's it.

I think a lot about nutrition for my child. He had a rocky start to his lifelong career of eating. Back when he was a newborn, he wasn't gaining weight fast enough. We went through hell with him--an appointment at a lactation consultant where she weighed him before and after nursing to figure out how much he was eating, a plethora of blood tests, and finally a specialist at the children's hospital. We finally ended up supplementing with preemie formula, and, after weighing him in every few days, then every week, then every month, and finally every few months. When Jasper started solid foods, we had to "boost" them, adding a scoop of formula to his fruit purees, and a drizzle of olive oil into his vegetable purees. He finally caught up. Jasper is still thin. He is still below the 50th percentile in weight, and well above the 80th for height. At this point, I do believe that he is just "long and lean," and perfectly fine. But, all of those doctors' visits, tests, and constant questioning about his weight and what he was eating stayed with me. They made me very aware of what I feed him.

Back to the discussion about restaurants, and our society's expectations of our children, in general. We know that we have a childhood obesity problem in this country. We also know that grilled cheese and fries have very little nutritional value, and lots of empty calories. Yet, we don't seem to be doing anything about it. Yes, toddlers are picky eaters. Even the "best" eaters are. Jasper is, too, in his own way. He loves broccoli. He barely touches chicken fingers. He loves zucchini, and lox, and sharp cheddar cheese and pretty much any fruit that you put in front of him. He has no interest in cheeseburgers or mashed potatoes. I guess my point is that "picky" doesn't have to mean "brown food only." We need to start expecting more from our children. Yes, I expect Jasper to be picky. Yes, I expect him to like somethings, and not like others. And, yes, I do expect him to push away plates of some foods. All kids do it. I think the problem is WHAT we expect them to eat and not to eat. If we set a plate of vegetables down in front of our children and watch them with a "what will they do?" face, they will sense the tension and not want to eat them. If we set a plate of chicken fingers and fries down in front of them with complete ease, they will sense that, too.

What I would really love to see is for kids' menus to start looking like the adult menu, with smaller portions. You can leave the chicken fingers on the menu--we all know enough adults who eat them, too. But, can we please include some real food on there, too? Can we please offer our children colorful options, brimming with veggies? Can we please offer a fruit cup for the included dessert, instead of only soft serve ice cream?

On a last note, last weekend, we went to Harlow's, in Peterborough, NH. We chose the restaurant because it is a mid-point to see a friend who lives a long drive away. The kids' menu looked similar to most, with one exception. They had a raw veggie platter option. It had carrots, cucumbers and tomatoes, all shaved very thin. It had about a half of an avocado, chopped up. It came with a little cup of organic ranch dressing for dipping. And it was the best meal Jasper has ever had at a restaurant. He had tons of fun dipping his veggies. He liked the different tastes and textures. And he loved looking at all the pretty colors on his plate. It was such a simple idea, yet made all of us so happy--the "picky" toddler, and the concerned parents. I wish more restaurants would add this easy meal to their brown menus. It certainly would be a step in the right direction.

CLU: Lentil Soup

2010-11-15T21:15:00.003-05:00

The current theme over at Cookbook Lovers Unite is "Warm and Cozy." Daylight savings time has ended. It's dark outside, and, here in New England, it's getting cold. Even on days that reach the 60s during daylight hours, it is dropping into the 20s and 30s at night. I'm not quite sure where summer went. As a matter of fact, I feel like it was just yesterday that I was out picking strawberries. But, somehow, it became November.

This is particularly astonishing to me because I so clearly remember this time last year. I was a bundle (a very large bundle) of anticipation. With each passing week, I was getting more and more anxious to meet my baby. At every store, I'd feel a twinge of nervousness when I saw the holiday displays. That means this baby is really going to arrive!! And now, here I am, with an 11-month-old baby. Where did the time go?

Oh yeah. This post was supposed to be about lentil soup. So, based on the Cookbook Lovers Unite theme, I browsed through my Nigella Lawson cookbooks. Because, to me, when you mention needing a "warm and cozy" recipe, I think of Nigella. There's something so homey and comforting about her books, her personality, her recipes.

I am on a never-ending search for the perfect lentil soup recipe I ate it once, at a restaurant in Florida. I was visiting my Grandma, and it came with my meal. I can't remember the name of the restaurant. I only remember the perfect lentil soup, and the regret I now feel about not asking for the recipe. What was the worst thing? They said no? Now I'll never know.

So, I search and I search. I make lentil soup recipe after lentil soup recipe, and, sadly, it's never the one. This one looked very promising. Pancetta? Scallions? Carrot and celery and garlic, all pureed? Sounded perfect. It wasn't. It was a decent lentil soup. But it wasn't perfect. It wasn't that golden bowl I ate in Florida. And so the search continues.

Lentil Soup

adapted from Feast by Nigella Lawson

4 carrots, roughly chopped

3 oz pancetta or bacon, chopped

6 scallions

1/4 cup chopped parsley

1/4 tsp dried thyme

1 garlic clove

1/4 cup olive oil

1 1/2 cups lentils

2 tsp wholegrain mustard

1 3/4 cups canned chopped tomatoes

8 cups water

Put the carrots into a food processor with pancetta, scallions, parsley, thyme and garlic. Process to a mush, and then heat the oil in a Dutch oven and cook over medium heat, until they are soft.

Stir in the lentils, then add the mustard, tomatoes, and water. Bring to a boil and

simmer gently for 1 hour or thereabouts.

Yield: 10 servings

IHCC: Italian Baked Chicken and Pastina Casserole

2010-11-14T09:35:00.007-05:00

This week's theme at I Heart Cooking Clubs is "Kid at Heart." I immediately knew which Giada recipe I was going to make. Why? Because the word "pastina" was in the title.

Pastina, to me, is quintessential kid food. It's tiny and cute. And it was one of my favorites when I was a child. My favorite Campbell's soup was, by far, chicken and stars. I just loved the itty bitty stars floating in there, and how they practically melted on my tongue. My mom used to make me pastina boiled in her chicken soup when I was sick. The restorative powers of the soup and the fun bits of pasta always made me feel at least a little better.

There's something about the texture that tiny pasta creates that I just love. I remember, when I was an early teen, discovering couscous. I had it for the first time in the Moroccan restaurant at Epcot Center. It was a revelation to me--a dish made solely of tiny pasta? And used in place of the (in my eyes, disgusting) mashed potatoes you see so often in America? Sign me up! I've been a couscous aficionado ever since.

This recipe was so promising. I mean, how can you go wrong with tiny pasta, cubes of chicken, mozzarella cheese, and breadcrumbs? You can't, really. But this recipe tried hard. It really turned out to be no more than the sum of its parts. Pastina? Check. Tomatoes? Check. Mozzarella? Yup, that's what's sticking to the roof of my mouth. Chicken? Uh-huh. But, there was just so unifying element that brought it all together. Instead, you just felt like you were eating a bowl of little pasta, tomatoes, chicken, cheese, and breadcrumbs. Nothing special. Kind of bland. Oh well.

Here's the recipe. I will say this--the bland flavors probably make this great kid food. I can see a picky four-year-old loving it. It's the adults who will be kind of disappointed.

Italian Baked Chicken and Pastina Casserole

from Everyday Pasta by Giada DeLaurentiis

1 cup pastina pasta (or any small pasta)
2 tablespoons olive oil
1/2 cup cubed chicken breast (1-inch cubes)
1/2 cup diced onion (about 1/2 a small onion)
1 clove garlic, minced
1 (14.5-ounce) can diced tomatoes with juice
1 cup shredded mozzarella
1/4 cup chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley
1/4 teaspoon kosher salt
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1/4 cup bread crumbs
1/4 cup grated Parmesan
1 tablespoon butter, plus more for buttering the baking dish

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F.

Bring a medium pot of salted water to a boil over high heat. Add the pasta and cook until just tender, stirring occasionally, about 5 minutes. Drain pasta into a large mixing bowl.

Meanwhile, put the olive oil in a medium saute pan over medium heat. Add the chicken and cook for 3 minutes. Add the onions and garlic, stirring to combine, and cook until the onions are soft and the chicken is cooked through, about 5 minutes more. Put the chicken mixture into the bowl with the cooked pasta. Add the canned tomatoes, mozzarella cheese, parsley, salt, and pepper. Stir to combine.

Place the mixture in a buttered 8 by 8 by 2-inch baking dish. In a small bowl mix together the bread crumbs and the Parmesan cheese. Sprinkle over the top of the pasta mixture. Dot the top with small bits of butter. Bake until the top is golden brown, about 30 minutes.

Serves 4

Cost: $1.65 per serving

IHCC: Halloween Spice Cake

2010-11-07T09:08:00.006-05:00

This week's theme over at I Heart Cooking Clubs was "Out of Italy." This means that we were to find a Giada recipe that did not come from Italy. Not an easy feat, given that Ms. De Lauretiss has been dubbed "The Italian Princess" (Wolfgang Puck called her this on The Next Food Network Star this past season). Everything that was overtly from "somewhere else" just didn't appeal to me this week.

So, for my weekly recipe, we left Italy and, well, stayed here. "Here" meaning the US. I made the Halloween Spice Cake, on the assumption that Halloween as we know it is a very American holiday. Of course, upon making the bread, er, I mean, cake, I thought it wasn't nearly as appropriate for Halloween as for the winter holiday season. Oh well. The interpretation of the theme is loose, okay?

Now, on to the details about the cake. It is easy to prepare. Your typical mix the dry, mix the wet in another bowl, add the dry to the wet, and bake. The problems arose in getting the cake to set. I had read about other folks having the same problem in the reviews of the recipe and scoffed to myself, "Food Network website users--they're probably novice bakers, who don't use oven thermometers, and therefore have no idea that their ovens are running cold." Nope. Not the Food Network website users who have the problem. I think Giada needs to check the temp in HER oven. 40 to 45 minutes? No way. More like 50 to 60.

That said, I baked my cake for 55 minutes, and the middle was still a little squidgy when it was cooled and set up. Blame it on the fact that I was drinking a rather strong Dark & Stormy while it baked. Or just impatience. Or both. But, in the end, it worked out. The squidgy parts are the best now that it has cooled.

The taste of this cake is definitely very spicy. At first bite, I thought, "Wow. This is very strong, and I'm not sure it's all that good." But then I took another bite, and another. And realized that this cake is highly addictive. I think it's the influence of all that ginger. There's an afterburn on your tongue that lingers, and makes you want more. So, I went from the first bite, thinking that this recipe would get a 3 on my 1 to 5 scale (which, in my household means "it was fine, but with so many recipes in the house, why make it again?"), to last bite, thinking that this recipe would get a 4 ("very, very good, and will be made again."). But, a funny thing happens with this cake. I ate a piece for breakfast about two hours ago, and I'm craving another piece now. Really craving it. Talking myself out of it only by reminding myself that I lost two pounds over the last week, and I don't want one spice cake to undo that in one day. Which means that this recipe will probably join my pantheon of quick breads that I take everywhere (the other two, so far, are my Zucchini Bran Bread and a Pumpkin Bread from Wilson Farm--both of which I should probably post about some day). Talk about a sleeper recipe! I never would have expected that at first bite.

So, that's three recipes from Giada that I have made and really enjoyed. Who would have thought? I suppose I'll continue with this group. Maybe she's growing on me after all.

Halloween Spice Cake

from the Food Network Website

Butter, for the pan
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon fine sea salt
1 tablespoon unsweetened cocoa powder
1 tablespoon ground cinnamon
2 teaspoons ground ginger
1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1/4 teaspoon ground allspice
1 cup sugar
1/4 cup packed light brown sugar
2/3 cup vegetable oil
1/3 cup unsweetened applesauce (I bought little individual cups so I wouldn't have to open a whole jar)
2 eggs
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

Place an oven rack in the center of the oven. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Butter and flour a 9 by 5-inch loaf pan. Set aside.

In a medium bowl, combine the flour, baking powder, salt, cocoa powder, cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg, and allspice.

In a large bowl, beat the sugars, oil, applesauce, eggs, and vanilla extract to blend. Add the dry ingredients and stir until just blended.

Pour the batter into the prepared pan and smooth the top with a spatula. Bake for 40 to 45 minutes or until a toothpick inserted into the center of the cake comes out clean.

Cool the cake for 10 minutes. Unmold the cake and place on a wire rack to cool completely.

Udon-Shiitake Stir-Fry with Sake and Ginger

2010-11-03T10:28:00.003-04:00

As you can probably tell from my post about Homemade Lo Mein, I love Asian noodle dishes. I love lo mein. I love pad thai. I love rice noodles. I love udon noodles, in all their incarnations, from a soupy bowl full of veggies and broth, to a savory saute with a sauce. So, when I found the recipe for Udon-Shiitake Stir-Fry with Sake and Ginger in Vegan Planet, I knew I had to make it.

I hit noodle gold with this recipe. The sauce is sweet from the shiitake and agave, yet earthy from the mushrooms and sesame oil. The shiitakes are silky and a little meaty while the udon noodles are wonderfully chewy. At the end of each mouthful, the ginger lends a bracing bite.

These noodles were as good as any I can get at an Asian restaurant in my area. And the recipe is so fast to make that it is on the table before take-out could possibly be. I know these noodles will become a regular in my household.

Udon-Shiitake Stir-Fry with Sake and Ginger

adapted from Vegan Planet by Robin Robertson

12 oz udon noodles

2 tsp. sesame oil

3 Tbs. sake

3 Tbs. tamari or other soy sauce

2 Tbs. agave syrup

2 Tbs. vegetable oil

2 shallots, finely chopped

8 oz fresh shiitake mushrooms, stems removed, and caps thinly sliced

1 Tbs peeled and minced fresh ginger

1. Cook the udon noodles according to package directions. Drain and toss with sesame oil. Set aside.

2. In a small bowl, combine the sake, tamari, and agave until well blended. Set aside.

3. Heat the oil in a large skillet or wok over medium-high heat. Add teh shallots, mushrooms, and ginger, and stir-fry until the mushrooms are tender, about 3 minutes.

4. Stir in the sake mixture and udon noodles, and cook, stirring, until heated through, 3 to 5 minutes. Serve hot.

This says it serves 4. In my house, it only served 2. We didn't have any sides or salad, so perhaps that is why.

IHCC: Cinnamon-Chocolate Fudge

2010-10-29T14:40:00.003-04:00

This week's theme over at I Heart Cooking Clubs is "Chocolate Cravings." Oh yes, I have chocolate cravings. Often. But, I have to admit, it was hard for me to find a chocolate Giada recipe that was crave-worthy. So many of hers are combined with espresso, and, while I can tolerate it sometimes, I am not a coffee fan. So, I finally settled on this one chocolate recipe that I had bookmarked back when I had cable and would watch Giada's show almost every day. I wanted to save it for the holiday season, but I guess testing it out beforehand is a good idea.

I made the Cinnamon-Chocolate Fudge recipe, which is available on Food Network's website. It's easy to make. Very easy to make. Dangerously easy to make. Why is it dangerous? Because this stuff is GOOD! I would venture to say that the sea salt is NOT optional. It completely takes this fudge and elevates it to something special, something out of the ordinary, and something totally addictive. Sweet from the chocolate and sweetened condensed milk, warming from the cinnamon, and salty from the sea salt. The flavors all pop in your mouth, and before you know it, you're reaching for a second piece. My advice: Cut them in very very small squares so you won't feel so bad about going back for more.

Be sure to hop over to I Heart Cooking Clubs to see what other folks made for their chocolate craving week.

Cinnamon Chocolate Fudge

from FoodNetwork.com

Butter, for greasing the pan
1 (14-ounce) can sweetened condensed milk
2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1 pound (about 2 cups) bittersweet (60 percent cacao) chocolate chips (recommended: Ghiradelli) see Cook's Note
3 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into 1/2-inch pieces, at room temperature
Kosher or flake salt, optional

Butter the bottom and sides of an 8 by 8-inch baking pan. Line the pan with a sheet of parchment paper, about 14-inches long and 7-inches wide, allowing the excess to overhang the sides. Set aside.

In a medium glass or stainless steel bowl, combine the condensed milk,

cinnamon, and vanilla. Stir in the chocolate chips and butter. Put the bowl on a saucepan of barely simmering water and mix until the chocolate chips have melted and the mixture is smooth, about 6 to 8 minutes (mixture will be thick).

Using a spatula, scrape the mixture into the prepared pan and smooth the top. Sprinkle with salt, if desired. Refrigerate for at least 2 hours until firm.
Run a warm knife around the edge of the pan to loosen the fudge.

Remove the fudge to a cutting board. Peel off the parchment paper and cut the fudge into 1-inch pieces. Store refrigerated in an airtight container or freeze.

Daring Bakers: Doughnuts

2010-10-27T08:09:00.000-04:00

This is my first ever Daring Bakers Challenge. And, let me tell you, it turned out worlds better for me than my first Daring Cooks Challenge. The October 2010 Daring Bakers challenge was hosted by Lori of Butter Me Up. Lori chose to challenge DBers to make doughnuts. She used several sources for her recipes including Alton Brown, Nancy Silverton, Kate Neumann and Epicurious.

I can already see that this challenge is going to be a total "gateway drug" for me. See, I've always had this fear of deep frying. But, we pulled out the Fry Daddy for the occasion and found that, really, frying isn't so bad. And the results were soooo good. Too good.

Let's start from the beginning. I chose the pumpkin doughnut recipe from the ones Lori had posted. Since it was a crisp fall day when I decided to tackle the challenge, it seemed appropriate. Mixing the dough was easy--no different than any other dough. Waiting while the dough chilled was not easy. It never is. Waiting is not my strong suit.

I didn't have biscuit cutters, so I ended up using a juice glass for the "big" cut, and a shooter for the hole. They turned out just fine using these instruments, and it made me feel better that I didn't have to buy new equipment for the challenge.

As always, patting out the dough, cutting it, gathering the scraps, and re-patting them out got tedious. This is why I hate cut-out cookies. I know, at some point, I'm going to have to get used to the idea. Kids, in my experience, love using cookie cutters, and I really want to be the kind of mom that will let my child choose the recipes we bake together, regardless of the procedure. So, I'm thinking I need to warm up to the roll-and-cut process in the next few years.

The end result was amazing doughnuts. They had a crunch on the outside, and a soft, chewy cake texture on the inside. I ate way too many on the first day. By the second day, they had lost the crunchy exterior. Still, they were better than any store-bought doughnut I could buy--even in the little bakery down the road that specializes in doughnuts.

I should mention that I left my doughnuts completely unadorned. No glaze. No powdered sugar. Nothing. I just felt like that would be gilding the lily.

And, so I've made my gateway recipe. Now I find myself daydreaming about cider doughnuts, chocolate doughnuts, gingerbread doughnuts, yeasted doughnuts, jelly doughnuts...Oh my, Daring Bakers, what have you done to me?

Cost: $0.21 for 1 doughnut and 2 doughnut holes

Yup, you read that right. You get 1 doughnut AND two doughnut holes for just 21 cents. Next time you go to that big chain, think about how high their mark-up must be!

IHCC: Italian White Bean, Pancetta and Tortellini Soup

2010-10-22T20:36:00.002-04:00

I recently stumbled upon I Heart Cooking Clubs. I love the idea of getting to know one author/chef really well during a six-month period. I just wish I had found the group earlier, when they were focusing on Mark Bittman or Nigella Lawson. Right now, their focus is Giada De Laurentiis. Given this fact, I'm thinking I'll participate every now and then, but I just can't commit to six months of Giada.

That said, when I saw that this week was "Potluck," I figured I would play along. I pulled out my cookbook specifically looking for a soup. Why a soup? Well, I spent last Friday through about Wednesday with the worst cold I've had in about two years. I know I'm lucky to have gone that long without it. I had a remarkably healthy pregnancy, and my immune system seemed to be in tip-top shape for the first ten months of my son's life. So, I was pretty frustrated when I got sick, as unused to the situation as I had become. It certainly didn't help that I was sick and running on Advil Cold & Sinus for my brother-in-law's wedding.

Anyway, all that aside, I chose the Italian White Bean, Pancetta, and Tortellini Soup. I find it kind of interesting that Swiss chard is not mentioned in the name of the recipe. The greens definitely featured prominently in the end result.

This was my first time using pancetta. It did not disappoint. The pancetta infused the whole soup with a rich, meaty undertone. Without it, I think the soup would have been lackluster, like so many of the other "beans and greens" soups I have made over the years. As much as I hate to admit it, I need some highly flavored meat (bacon, pancetta, chorizo) to make my greens palatable.

The soup turned out more than "palatable." It was filling, warming, and deeply nourishing in a "good for the soul" kind of way. I wish I had had this recipe on hand when I was a CSA member toting home huge bunches of chard and kale and collards every week. Now at least I know a good way to get in my greens.

Italian White Bean, Pancetta, and Tortellini Soup

adapted from Everyday Pasta by Giada De Laurentiis

3 Tbs olive oil

4 oz pancetta, chopped

3 shallots, chopped

1 carrot, chopped

2 garlic cloves, chopped

1 (15 oz) can cannellini beans, rinsed and drained

4 cups chopped Swiss chard

6 cups chicken broth

1 (9 oz) package frozen cheese tortellini

freshly ground black pepper

In a large soup pot, heat the olive oil over medium-high heat. Add the pancetta, shallots, carrot, and garlic and cook until the pancetta is crisp, about 5 minutes. Add the beans, Swiss chard, and broth.

Bring the soup to a boil over medium-high heat, then reduce the heat to a simmer. Add the tortellini and cook 8 minutes, until just tender. Season with pepper and serve.

Makes 5 servings

Cost: $3.22 per serving

First Cookbook Lovers Unite: Open-Face Veggie Sandwiches

2010-10-21T19:21:00.001-04:00

I recently started a new blogging group for people who love their printed cookbooks as much as I do. Cookbook Lovers Unite will have a theme every other week to make a recipe from a cookbook and then blog about and share. The first theme is "Your First Love." I wanted to hear what books started the obsession for other cookbook addicts.

My first cookbook love wasn't the first cookbook I ever owned. It wasn't even the second or third. Just as your first love isn't necessarily your first date, it took a few books before I found the one that started it all.

The Horn of the Moon Cookbook started it all for me. I'm not sure why. It's such an unassuming book. The cover is a drawing. There are no pictures in the book at all--just some line drawings and text. The author is not a celebrity. No one was promoting the book in a magazine, on a display in front of the store, or with a show on The Food Network. Nope, it was just a regular old book on a used bookstore shelf, and somehow it caught my attention.

It was the weekend of October 18-20, 2002 when I found the book. I know the date because it was my one-year anniversary with my boyfriend (now my husband). We had gone up to Vermont to see a concert, and stayed with friends who lived in Burlington. While we were wandering in downtown Burlington, in the bitter, biting wind, we ducked into a used bookstore. While browsing, I spied The Horn of the Moon, and something drew me to it. I bought it, after consulting with my boyfriend, not knowing that it would change me.

I read the cookbook cover to cover in the following months, marking recipes I wanted to try to make. This was no small step for me. I come from a family that doesn't like to cook. That's putting it nicely. My mother CAN cook--and what she makes she makes quite well--but she hates the process. My grandmothers? Don't make me laugh. At my wedding shower, everyone gave me a recipe card with a special dish from her kitchen. I don't have one from my Grandma because she couldn't think of a single thing that she cooks--she just orders take out or (more likely) goes to a restaurant. So, I wasn't from the cooks. But, I was determined to try, and this book was going to be my gateway.

These open-face sandwiches were my first foray into the cooking world. Kurt and I made them over and over and over again. We were so proud of our accomplishment. (Looking back, of course, this is an incredibly simple recipe, but we were just beginners.) To this day, the smell of broccoli and thyme sauteing reminds me of our tiny, crammed apartment in Somerville, MA. It reminds me of cozy meals around our tiny table, of cooking in a galley kitchen so cramped that we could barely work back-to-back. It reminds me of brisk November days, walking the half mile to the grocery store, and then walking back carrying the bags, and how warm my cheeks would feel when I got back into the apartment and turned on the stove. This recipe reminds me of the early days of living together, and learning to cook together.

It's amazing to me that this one innocent-looking book sparked the cookbook collection that I have now--that the 200-plus cookbooks in my house all sprang from that one impulse buy in Vermont.

Here's to beginnings--of a lifelong love of cookbooks, of a relationship that is now nine years old, and of a new blogging group where we can share the joy of the printed cookbook.

Broccoli Mushroom Sandwich with Three Cheeses

adapted from Horn of the Moon Cookbook by Ginny Callan

1 Tbs olive oil

2 cups chopped broccoli

1/2 tsp dried thyme

2 cups sliced mushrooms

1/4 tsp salt

4 slices rye bread

1 1/2 cups crumbled blue cheese (I use much less)

8 small slices mozzarella cheese

8 small slices cheddar cheese

Preheat oven to 375.

Heat a skillet over medium heat. Add oil, then broccoli and thyme. Cook 2 to 3 minutes. Add mushrooms and salt and cook until just barely tender. Remove from heat and drain any excess juices.

Place bread on a cookie sheet. Top each piece of bread with the broccoli-mushroom mixture. Spread the blue cheese over, followed by slices of mozzarella, and then cheddar. Bake for 10 minutes. Serve open-face.

Makes 4 servings.

Cost: $2.61 per sandwich

Daring Cooks: Stuffed Grape Leaves

2010-10-14T07:30:00.000-04:00

Today is my first Daring Cooks Challenge. Our October 2010 hostess, Lori of Lori’s Lipsmacking Goodness, has challenged The Daring Cooks to stuff grape leaves. Lori chose a recipe from Aromas of Aleppo and a recipe from The New Book of Middle Eastern Food. And, boy, was it a challenge...

Not that the recipe itself was so hard to make. It definitely had more steps than I'm used to lately. And it had some techniques I haven't tried before--weighing down the rolls with a Pyrex dish comes to mind. But, really, the challenge, for me, was to make something I've never tried before, and, quite frankly, never really had the inclination to.

Let me tell you, I did NOT feel any more inclined toward this after smelling the grape leaves. Picture driving near the ocean on a really humid day. The kind of day where the ocean doesn't smell fresh and clean anymore--it smells salty and fetid. I remember those kinds of days back when I lived on Long Island--when I would be driving down by the beach and think, "My goodness, something smells rotten!" Yeah. That's how the grape leaves smelled.

And THEN, as I'm carefully pulling each leaf apart from the others, since they were packed so tightly in the jar, I find a dead, preserved ladybug. I'm not kidding. There was no mistaking what it was. It was still intact, and red and black (though the red had slightly faded). At that point, I seriously considered scrapping the whole project. But, I found the insect on the very last leaf I had unraveled, so I trudged on and tried not to think about it too hard.

The results were, well...disgusting. I'm sorry. I understand that this might have been to some people's taste. It just wasn't to mine. The whole house reeked from the grape leaves, and you can't taste without using your nose. The texture was okay, but it was just a spiced meatball wrapped in an unappetizing leaf. No thanks.

I hope everyone else had fun with the challenge, and that their results were more pleasing to their palates. As for me, I'll try next month's challenge and see where it takes me. I guess Daring means risking failure or disappointment. The recipe worked just fine, it was just my personal preferences that failed me. Better luck next month, I guess.

The Cranberry Sauce Conundrum

2010-10-02T19:46:00.001-04:00

I have a really bad habit of letting food go to waste. I know it's a terrible thing to do, and I feel guilty every single time I throw away uneaten food that has gone bad in the refrigerator. I'm trying very hard to mend my ways, but sometimes it just isn't easy.

The other night, I had half a can of whole-berry cranberry sauce in the fridge. I had tried to use half of it in a recipe that failed miserably (not the recipe's fault--we had an ingredient go bad and didn't realized until it was too late in the process. We ended up eating grilled cheese for dinner that night.). So, there sat half a can of cranberry sauce. To be completely honest, the jelled consistency of the stuff grosses me out. But, keeping in mind that I have been trying so hard not to throw food away, I started looking for a recipe to use it up.

There is a new-ish website out there called Eat Your Books. I signed up for a lifetime membership back in May. Basically, they index cookbooks. You create a bookshelf with the cookbooks you own, and viola--you have a searchable database of the recipes on your cookbook shelves. Right now, only about 50% of my cookbooks are indexed. That's still a lot of recipes to search from--according to the website, when I log in, exactly 22.465 recipes, to be exact.

I performed such a search and found the perfect recipe to use up the cranberry sauce. As a bonus, it would also use the juice of the orange that was sitting in fridge, divested of its zest. The recipe was for Orange Cranberry Muffins from Alton Brown's I'm Just Here for More Food.

So, I quickly mixed together the streusel topping, whipped up the muffin batter, scooped them out, sprinkled the topping on as well as I could (the muffin cups were over-full, so it was hard to make the streusel stick), and popped them in the oven in time to sit down and watch an episode of The Big Bang Theory on DVD. While I watched the hilarious antics of the ever-endearing nerds, my house started to smell ridiculously good. The kind of good that makes your stomach rumble and your mouth water, even though you just ate dinner an hour ago.

These muffins were a wonderful solution to my cranberry sauce problem. As a matter of fact, they were such a good solution that they have created their own problem. When I make them next, what will I do with the other half of the can of cranberry sauce? I guess that just remains to be seen. In the meantime, I would strongly urge you to make these muffins when you get the chance. They have the perfect fall/harvest taste. They are tender, and buttery, with a subtle crunch from the streusel topping. And, every now and then, if you are lucky, you bite into one of the whole cranberries, which gives you a joyful tart pop on the palate.

Orange Cranberry Muffins

adapted from I'm Just Here for More Food

The Streusel:

1/4 cup all-purpose flour

1/4 cup brown sugar

1/4 tsp salt

1/4 tsp cinnamon

1/4 cup chopped almonds

3 Tbs butter

The Muffins:

8 Tbs unsalted butter

1 cup sugar

2 eggs

2 cups all-purpose flour

1/2 tsp baking powder

1 tsp baking soda

1/2 tsp salt

1 tsp orange extract

1/2 cup plain yogurt

orange juice from 1 orange

3/4 cup canned whole-berry cranberry sauce

1. Mix streusel ingredients until cohesive, but still crumbly.

2. Preheat oven to 350, and grease a muffin tin.

3. Combine the dry ingredients in a bowl.

4. Cream together the butter and sugar.

5. Add the eggs and mix until combined.

6. Add remaining wet ingredients. Then dump all the wet ingredients into the dry. (I do this the other way around--dumping the dry into the wet, and I'm not sure it makes any difference. Alton would probably disagree, though.)

7. Scoop the batter into 12 muffin cups. The book says to fill them to the top. Mine crested over the top. They still turned out great.

8. Sprinkle with streusel topping.

9. Bake for 30 to 35 minutes, until a tester comes out clean.

10. Allow muffins to cool before taking out of the tins.

Yield: 12 muffins

Cost: $0.36 per muffin

The Empty House Cupcake

2010-09-18T21:14:00.001-04:00

What do you do on a Saturday night, when the baby is asleep and the husband is out at his brother's bachelor party? Make cupcakes, of course!

I was faced with this scenario this evening. The house was so quiet that you could hear a pin drop...well, except for the hum of the monitor, but I don't even hear that anymore (yet the tiniest sound of movement through it clicks back into my consciousness). Even the dog is jumping and barking at phantom noises. I closed a cabinet, and she was barking at the front door.

The recipe I chose was for Doughnut Cupcakes. They promised the taste of a doughnut without the deep-frying. I'm all for that! The recipe comes from the King Arthur Baking Sheet CD I bought last weekend--this one from the Jan/Feb edition back in 1993. They came from a column entitled "Take It Easy," and they certainly delivered on that promise. From the moment I decided to make the cupcakes to the time they were cooling on the wire rack was only 50 minutes. That time probably could have been even faster, if I hadn't had to wait for the oven to preheat.

I did make two adjustments to the original recipe. First, it called for shortening. Yuck! I will not allow Crisco in my house. So, I subbed in butter, as I always do. I expect better of King Arthur, but maybe times were just different in 1993, and they didn't realize how bad shortening is (though it was always a vile substance, so I'm skeptical). Second, the original called for regular milk. I didn't have any in the house, so I used buttermilk.

The results were quite yummy, if not quite doughnut-like. Of course, that could be because of my substitutions. To me the biggest similarity to doughnts was the nutmeg and cinnamon sugar flavors. Nevertheless, they make a very satisfactory cinnamon-sugary cupcake.

Doughnut Cupcakes

adapted from King Arthur Flour Baking Sheet Jan/Feb 1993

1/3 cup butter, softened

2/3 cup sugar

1/2 cup buttermilk

1 egg

1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour

1 1/2 tsp baking powder

1/4 tsp nutmeg

1/2 tsp salt

Topping:

2 Tbs butter, melted

cinnamon sugar

Preheat oven to 350.

In a mixing bowl, cream together the butter and sugar. Beat in the milk and egg. Add the flour, baking powder, nutmeg, and salt, and beat at medium speed of an electric mixer for 2 minutes.

Spoon batter into 12 muffin cups, filling each about halfway. Bake in preheated oven for 25 minutes, until a toothpick comes out clean. Brush tops of cupcakes with melted butter, and sprinkle with cinnamon sugar. Wait 10 minutes, then remove from pans to cool completely.

Makes 12 cupcakes

Cost: $0.14 Yup, that's 14 CENTS per cupcake. You can't beat that!

Chicken and Rice "Stoup"

2010-09-16T11:42:00.000-04:00

People have very strong opinions about Rachael Ray. I've heard it all--she's annoying, her recipes lower our standards for food, she's just cashing in, etc, etc, etc. Well, I'll tell you this. The woman knows how to get dinner on the table in 30 minutes, and when you are a new mom, that is invaluable. Over the last nine months, I have fallen in love with Ms. Ray's recipes and cooking/writing style. For quick meals, she uses very little processed ingredients--from the recipes I've picked (and there have been a lot of them since Jasper was born), the most packaged ingredients I've used are canned broth and some frozen veggies. Not bad at all. And the recipes really deliver--of the many I have tried, we have only disliked one and had one complete disaster (which was not the recipe's fault--it was cook's error). I will openly admit that I own almost every Rachael Ray cookbook, and I will further state that they are used more than any other single author on my shelves at the moment (which says a lot, considering that I have close to 200 cookbooks on those shelves).

The weather has been getting brisk here in New England, so I decided to make a Chicken and Rice "Stoup" recipe, from 365: No Repeats. "Stoup," for those not well-versed in Rachael Ray-speak, is somewhere between a soup and a stew. This one was warm, and comforting, with perfect seasonings. And, it was super easy to make. Very little active time was involved, so that dinner could get on the table and the baby could be entertained all at once. This recipe is a keeper. I'm sure it will grace my table throughout the cold weather season.

Chicken and Rice Stoup
adapted from Rachael Ray 365: No Repeats

2 cups chicken stock
3 Tbs extra-virgin olive oil
1 Tbs unsalted butter
1 1/2 to 2 lbs chicken breast tenders, cut into bite-sized pieces
2 medium leeks, cut lengthwise and then sliced into half-moons
1 bay leaf
1 cup carrots, chopped
2 celery ribs, chopped
3 tsp. dried thyme
6 cups chicken stock (I used Swanson)
1 1/2 cups white rice

Heat a Dutch oven over medium-high heat. Add olive oil and butter. When butter melts, add the chicken to the pan and saute until lightly golden on both sides, about 4 minutes.

Add leeks, bay leaf, carrots, celery, and thyme. Cook for about 3 minutes, until the leeks wilt down.

Add all 6 cups of stock and bring to a boil. Stir in the rice and cook until rice is just tender, 15 to 18 minutes. (There was no instruction in the original recipe for the cover to be on or off, so I left it off. It worked fine this way.) Adjust salt and pepper seasoning to taste.

Serves: about 6

Note: If you have leftovers, the rice will absorb all the liquid, giving you a "chicken and rice" meal, with no "stoup." This was fine with me--it was still delicious--but, if you want the soup consistency, have another can of broth on hand to thin it out when you reheat.

Cost: $2.69 per serving

New to the Kitchen: Cost Analysis & BYOB

2010-09-14T22:03:00.000-04:00

I am adding a new feature to my blog, starting with the the previous post. From now on, I will be including a cost analysis for each of the recipes I make. Why, you may ask? The last year has brought many changes to the neon celery kitchen. Among those changes has been a move from being a two-income household to just the one. While our change has been (mostly) by choice, I think a lot of people are finding themselves in similar situations these days. So, I thought I would share my calculations with you.

For me, calculating the cost of each recipe is a way to keep track of where my grocery money is going, and gives me confirmation that cooking at home is not only healthier for our bodies, but also for our wallets.

Along the same lines, I have joined up with BYOB--that's "Bake Your Own Bread." They are a group of bloggers who have taken the pledge to bake all of their own breads, rather than buying them at the grocery store. They are an inspiration to me, and I am looking forward to the challenge.

I hope you enjoy the new features. Happy cooking/baking!

A Politically Incorrect Bread

2010-09-13T21:24:00.001-04:00

I just got home from Vermont. I love Vermont. The rolling hills are beautiful. The air is fresh and crisp and clean. The people are friendly. There's a chance you might see a moose. And the King Arthur Flour store is there. The only thing I don't like about Vermont is that I have to spend a good portion of my visit giving myself pep talks about why I haven't just picked up and moved there yet. (Work, work, and work. There just aren't jobs in my husband's field there, and we need money to live--even in Vermont.)

As a bonus for going to the beautiful wedding of close friends, I got to visit the King Arthur Flour store. That store is so dangerous for me. But, I did walk out relatively unscathed. I bought a one-pound bag of cinnamon chips, because it has been driving me crazy that I can't find them (the supermarket sells cinnamon chip muffins, but not cinnamon chips--so where do they get their cinnamon chips????). I also bought a CD with the first ten years of the Baking Sheet--King Arthur's newsletter--on it in PDF format.

Upon returning home, I had some distinct emotions. The first was travel-weariness. In the last six weeks, we have traveled to Chicago, Florida, and Vermont. All with an infant. Not easy. I am standing firm that I am not leaving for an overnight trip until Thanksgiving. The other emotion was excitement for fall. Fall has already come to Vermont, it seems. New Hampshire is lagging behind. And then, as excitement for fall almost always translates for me, I was ready to bake.

So, I opened up my new CD and found a recipe for a bread machine bread that would work well for peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Kurt starts a new job tomorrow, and we don't know what the lunch situation will be--if there will be a fridge, a mircowave, etc. So, a sandwich is a safe bet. And a sandwich on homemade bread is just that much better. I found a recipe for "Squaw Bread" that looked very interesting, if a bit derogatory. I mean, who uses the term "squaw" anymore? In any case, the recipe looked good, and I decided to try it.

The results were excellent. The whole grain flavor doesn't overpower the whole loaf. Instead, it lends a sweetness to the soft, chewy bread. It was just perfect under a schmear of cream cheese for breakfast this morning.

Squaw Bread
adapted from King Arthur Flour's Baking Sheet Mar-Apr 1997

Makes 1 (1 1/2 lb loaf)

3/4 cup (6 ounces) buttermilk
1/2 cup (4 ounces) water
2 Tbs. canola oil
1 1/2 Tbs honey
2 Tbs raisins
2 Tbs light brown sugar
1 1/2 cups (6 ounces) bread flour
1 1/4 cups (5 ounces) white whole wheat flour
3/4 cup (3 ounces) rye flour
1 1/2 tsp. sea salt
2 tsp. yeast

In a blender, blend buttermilk through brown sugar. Put this mixture into bread machine, followed by the rest of the ingredients. Bake on basic or white bread program, with light crust setting.

Cost: $1.69 for the loaf
Specialty whole grain sandwich loaf at supermarket bakery: $2.99

I submitted this post to the BYOB monthly round-up. You can see what the other BYOB bakers were making in September by clicking here.

Chunky Peanut Butter and Oatmeal Chocolate Chipsters

2010-09-05T10:16:00.000-04:00

Funny how life works. On Friday night, I was thinking that I would finally get a chance to bake this weekend. Since I had to run out to the grocery store for dinner ingredients quickly, I chose my recipe rather haphazardly. I seemed to recall a chocolate chip and peanut butter cookie that I made once upon a time, that Sally the dog had eaten before I had really gotten my fill.

I baked said cookies last night. I logged into my blog this morning, and reread my last post about the recipe. And I found that I made this same recipe during Labor Day weekend two years ago. What are the chances??? And where on earth did the time go?

In any case, the cookies are still wonderful. Oh my, that Dorie Greenspan knows how to build a super dessert recipe. The woman should be considered armed with butter and very dangerous to the waistline. But, she sure does deliver.

I am happy to report that I have kept these cookies on the stove, behind a tea kettle and big old empty Dutch oven so that Sally cannot steal them. So far, so good. So very, very sinfully good.

For the link to the recipe, I am sending you to one of my most favorite blogs. Rebecca's posts never fail to make me smile, and very often have me laughing out loud. If you haven't read her blog before, you should really consider starting now. Here is the recipe (and a great post).

Homemade Lo Mein

2010-09-04T08:24:00.000-04:00

Lo mein is one of my favorite foods. Kind of strange, I know. It's among the lowliest of Americanized Chinese food dishes. It's generally an afterthought on the Chinese buffet tables, or one of those slightly-cold, very greasy dishes that you get at the mall food court. But, I love good lo mein.

I suppose one of the reasons I like the noodle dish so much is that it is connected, over and over again, to fond memories for me. When I think of lo mein, I think of Mother's Day at my Aunt Fran's house. We would all sit around and take an hour to decide what we were ordering from the Chinese take out place. My grandfather would hold court, tallying up what everything would cost, so that we could get the most expensive item possible (boneless spare ribs) for free. Back then--or maybe it's more of a Long Island thing--if you ordered "x" amount, you would get an egg roll free, this amount, and you would get wonton soup, etc, all the way up to the coveted boneless spare ribs. We ordered more food than we ever needed, and probably spent a good deal more than the boneless spare ribs would have cost, but getting it for free made Grandpa happy.

Lo mein also brings me back to my first apartment off campus, and the year I met my husband. There was a decent Chinese restaurant around the corner called Chef Chang's. My husband (well, boyfriend at the time) and I would often drop into Chang's for lunches--you couldn't beat the $5.95 luncheon specials. The one I ordered was always the chicken lo mein, an egg roll, and a cup of hot and sour soup. To this day, picturing that dining room in my head brings me back to the feeling of lazy Saturday afternoons with no responsibilities except to maybe get home early enough on Sunday night to write a quick paper or two.

When I found the recipe that forms the base for my homemade lo mein, I knew I had to try it. After all, I'm kind of a lo mein addict. It turned out perfectly--exactly what I had been searching for. As a bonus, this recipe costs less than a dollar per serving--though it could be more, depending on what you add to it. This recipe is so fast and so easy that we made it almost every week during the first few months after my son was born. And, so, this lo mein joins the memory pantheon. I'm sure, when I taste this dish years from now, that it will bring me back to Jasper's newborn days. It will remind me of the sleepless weeks when we were struggling to get Jasper to gain weight. It will remind me of my seemingly permanent station in the rocking chair, nursing, then sitting together while Jasper slept and I watched the Food Network (or read, if I could get an arm free to hold the book). Jasper will most likely come to remember this meal as "when Mommy was in a big rush." Let the lo mein memories continue.

Homemade Lo Mein

Serves about 4, depending on additions

Base:

3 Tbs. olive oil

2 Tbs sesame oil

2 cups shredded cabbage from a bag

1/2 cup chopped green onion

8 oz. angel hair pasta

4 Tbs. soy sauce

Optional additions:

handfuls of bean sprouts (in my house, this one isn't an option--it's a staple)

any and all veggies you want to use (I've found that 1/2 a bag of the frozen stir-fry veggies works very well.)

cooked chicken, shredded (I only do this when I have some that I have to use up)

1. Cook pasta according to package directions. Drain.

2. Heat oil and sesame oil in skillet. Add any "heartier" veggies that you plan to use--broccoli, carrots, etc. If you are using frozen veggies, throw them in now. Sautee until just slightly cooked.

3. Add cabbage and green onion and saute for about 5 minutes more.

4. Add pasta, and soy sauce, and, if you are using them, the bean sprouts and chicken. Toss so that the pasta gets completely coated in the oil and soy sauce, and so that veggies are distributed evenly.

Enjoy.

Summer in a Bowl

2010-09-02T22:06:00.001-04:00

There are some things that can only be enjoyed during the summer. Corn on the cob. Fresh, sweet, juicy peaches that have been picked from the tree that day. Heirloom watermelons with sherbet orange flesh. And tomatoes. Real, vine-ripened tomatoes, still sun-warm when you bite into them. In my case, a rainbow of heirlooms, ranging from the tart and tangy green zebra to the mellow and sweet yellow "peach."

This dish is about summer. It's about the freshest ingredients, used at the height of ripeness--and almost no embellishment. And yet, somehow, with so little cooking and so few ingredients, it will be the best meal you eat all season. This is the dish you dream about in the darkest days of January, when the snow is falling, and summer seems like it will never come.

I came across this recipe in Moosewood Cooks at Home, one of my go-to cookbooks. It's so simple that you really don't need a recipe at all. Boil some pasta. Throw chopped super-fresh super-ripe tomatoes into a food processor. Add garlic, olive oil, salt, pepper, and a few fresh basil leaves into a food processor. Whirl it up until it's smooth. Chop up some extra tomatoes for garnish. Cube some fresh mozzarella cheese. Drain the pasta. Put it in a bowl. Toss it with the mozzarella while the pasta is still piping hot. This creates gooey strands of cheese throughout the dish. Toss with the pureed sauce and chopped tomatoes. Serve, preferably with some nice crusty bread, and maybe a light green salad. That's it. But, it's perfect. The season, captured in a bowl.

You can find the recipe here, or feel free to improvise. I have submitted this entry to Grow Your Own #45. Be sure to check out the round-up there, to see what other bloggers have made using produce from their own gardens and farms.

MIA: Missing in Action/Mother in Action

2010-05-28T16:07:00.000-04:00

It's been five months since I've posted. Five life-changing months. On December 17, 2009, my little Jasper was born. He's a healthy, happy baby boy. And, somehow, he's swallowed the last five months of my life whole. Don't know where the time has gone. Yet, somehow, the little 7 lb 6 oz, 21-inch newborn is now 14 lbs 11 oz, and 26 3/4 inches long. All of a sudden, it seems, he's rolling over, and laughing, babbling and grabbing at my food. Clearly, time has passed, but I'm not sure where it has gone.

I'm hoping to start blogging again. The Jazz Monkey appears to be taking naps now. So, perhaps, maybe, if I'm lucky, I will be able to start writing again. Maybe even baking again.

In the meantime, here's to a long weekend, the vegetable garden sprouting, and strawberry season peaking over the horizon.

Slow Cooker Sloppy Joes

2009-12-09T11:41:00.000-05:00

On Monday night, I came home from work with some energy. Given that I am currently 38 weeks pregnant, this is a rather rare thing lately. So, I sat down with Not Your Mother's Slow Cooker, and tried to find a recipe to make.

See, the night before, we had been gifted with a new slow cooker. We didn't need to be gifted with it--Sara, are you reading this? It appears that our old one had an accident when we left it at Kurt's college reunion, and this was a replacement. Nevertheless, since we had it (however much it was unnecessary to replace it!), I figured we would take it for a spin.

I chose a recipe that was completely out of character for our household--Sloppy Joes. I don't think we have any fundamental issues with Sloppy Joes. It's just one of those recipes that we've never thought of making before. For some reason, on Monday night, they sounded good. So, when Kurt got home from work, we decided on a simple dinner, and went shopping for ingredients for both dinner and the Sloppy Joes, which would cook overnight in the slow cooker and serve as lunches for the next few days.

A few notes. Our slow cooker is six quarts. This recipe is built for a "medium" cooker, which, in this book, means 3-to-4 quarts. So, we doubled the recipe to make sure that it would fill the bowl enough not to burn. This turned out to be a very wise choice, as it was still only filled about halfway. It cooked well, though, so I'm thinking the empty half of the crock did no harm. My other note is that, when we make this recipe again, we will use ground turkey instead of ground beef. It's just personal preference. But, in recent years, even the leanest ground beef still tastes greasy to me. I love my ground turkey, so I'll definitely make that substitution next time.

The overall reaction was that this is a very good recipe. I love that it doesn't use heavily processed foods. Actually, that is something that I love about the whole book. Most recipes I find for slow cookers are laden with cans of "cream of this soup," and "cream of that," canned vegetables, and other processed foods that I can't see myself using if I were cooking stove-top. This book, in general, avoids that downfall, and this recipe is no exception. I highly recommend the book to health-conscious, but time-pressed people who would like to use their slow cookers to make REAL food.

Here is a link I found to the recipe. Enjoy!

You Win Some, You Lose Some

2009-12-05T12:54:00.000-05:00

Kurt often says, "Sometimes you eat the bear. Sometimes the bear eats you." I'm assuming it's a movie quote of some sort, and I just don't have the cultural literacy to know where it comes from. That happens more than one might guess. In any case, Wednesday night was the perfect time to use that quote. Seems that we got eaten by the bear, and then got to eat some very good corn chowder afterwards. Hmmm, that's a bit "Jonah and the Whale-ish," isn't it?

In any case, Wednesday night started off very promising. During work, I had been smelling the corn chowder that was available in the cafeteria. Now, I've learned my lesson--actually, learned it a few too many times--about eating food at my company's cafeteria. Namely, don't do it. And, if you do it, knowing full well that you shouldn't, do not, under any circumstances, get the soup. The soups there must be loaded with MSG because the kinds of headaches I get immediately after consuming it are excruciating.

Anyway, I really wanted corn chowder after smelling it all day, so I searched around for a recipe. See, I have a problem with corn chowder. I love it when I get it at restaurants. But, I haven't found a recipe I like to make at home. This, no doubt, has everything to do with my hesitancy to use ingredients like cream, or bacon. I finally decided that it must be these items that make the difference, though, and started rationalizing about how, it's bound to be moderately healthier made at home, even with those ingredients, and it would certainly be cheaper, per-serving. So, I found this recipe and we went for it. According to the link, it is originally from The Barefoot Contessa Cookbook, which, thanks to this recipe, is now very high on my "Cookbooks to Buy" list.

We made a few changes. We used turkey bacon rather than "real" bacon. We didn't have turmeric in the house, so we skipped it. We did have heavy cream in the house for some reason, so we used that instead of the half-and-half. And we halved the recipe because I saw no need for 10 to 12 servings of something with such a dubious nutritional profile for just two people.

The results were incredible. Really, this recipe finally matches up to what I can get at the restaurants.

Unfortunately, while the soup was simmering for its 15 minutes uncovered, my computer met with catastrophe. I don't know what I did wrong, but all of a sudden, there were pop-ups everywhere telling me about how my computer was under attack. Except, those pop-ups weren't from my antivirus software. They were from, well, a virus. This virus--spyware--whatever you want to call it--made my computer completely useless. And so began days of alternately wanting to cry, throw my laptop against a wall, and get revenge on whoever had done this to my precious laptop. On top of all this, I feared the worst--What would happen if I went into labor while my laptop was dead? GASP. As Kurt so appropriately asked, "If a baby is born, and The Jam Girls don't know about it, did it still happen?" I'm not sure, and I'm VERY glad not to have to find out.

So, in the end, the bear--also known as the virus--ate us, but we had some damn good corn chowder in the process.

Oh, and for those who would like to know, this program is what finally resuscitated my laptop this morning. I highly recommend it.

Thanksgiving Memories

2009-11-25T07:40:00.001-05:00

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

I've been thinking a lot about tradition in the last few weeks. What are the things in my life--and especially my childhood--that happened every year that I really treasure? There are many, but at the very top of my list is Thanksgiving.

What do I love about Thanksgiving? Well, first and foremost, The Parade. Oh, yes. That tasty bit of commercialism put on by Macy's. When I was a little girl--as young as three and maybe even two--my Grandpa would take me into NYC for the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade every year. He would drive us into the city--an adrenaline-inducing experience once I was old enough to understand the rules of the road--and we would get out somewhere near Central Park. Then, we'd walk what seemed like 10 exhilarating miles to my little feet. Finally, we'd find our place on the sidewalk, Central Park to our back, posh houses (including Billy Joel's, one year!) across the street, and very very cold concrete under our bums (we put blankets down, but they only did so much).

I cannot express to you the wonder of The Parade up close--especially when I was so small. The marching bands going by. The huge balloons, and wondering if they could navigate this building corner, or that tree. The ornate floats. The clowns that actually perform for you whenever the parade has to stop and march in place for a "commercial break." It was all mesmerizing and fantastical.

There are definite Parade Memory Highlights. There was the year that Superman's balloon hand get severed and fell just a little down the road from us. The crazy thrill of seeing the ACTUAL New Kids on the Block waving from their float (OMG, OMG, OMG!!! That's really them!!!!). The year when my brother was just old enough to really enjoy the parade--he had a thing for clowns and tried to run out and join them (Mom had him on a kind of "leash" made with telephone cord, so he didn't get far. The policeman told her she was the smartest lady in the crowd that day).

And, always, intrinsic to all of these memories, my Grandpa. My Grandpa standing behind me, and shouting, "Look, Allie! It's Bull Moose!!!" (It was Bullwinkle.) And, believe me, my Grandpa was loud, so the whole block heard. My Grandpa edging my brother and me closer to the barricade, so that we were practically directly under it, so that we could have the best view. My Grandpa, hooting louder than all of us when we walked through the echoing tunnel that lead us to and from our far-away parked car. My Grandpa, parallel parking the last year we went to The Parade (I was in my early teenage years), and telling my Grandma that "Rhoda, we'll get into this space just fine," even after he had been trying for at least ten reverses, while my brother and I sat in the backseat with our eyes tightly clamped shut.My Grandpa, getting us back to Long Island just in time to turn the television on and see The Parade broadcast, while we "ooohed" and "aaaahed" over the performances the people on the float gave to the cameras, and how well (or, more thrillingly, not-so-well) each balloon fared for the rest of the walk down The Parade Route.

In two years, I'm hoping to go back to The Parade with my own child (named after my Grandpa, who is no longer with us), and with my child's "Grandpa." The experience will undoubtedly be very different--for starters, my child's Grandpa will be a quiet man, reserved--not at all inclined to yell about Bull Moose for all to hear. But, I'm hoping the memories will be just as warm, the place and the event just as magical.

I hope everyone has a wonderful Thanksgiving, filled with traditions, old and new, and memories of family that last a lifetime.

My First Bread Baking Day, Their 24th (BBD #24)

2009-11-18T21:10:00.000-05:00

For a while now, I've been reading other bloggers' posts for Bread Baking Day (also known as BBD), but I've been too intimidated to join in myself. This month, I finally decided to take the leap.

This is the blogging event's #24, though it is my first, and the theme is "Mixed Breads," meaning a bread that uses at least two different types of flour. This month is hosted by El Aroma de IDania. Be sure to hop over there after December 1 to see the round-up of what other bakers made this month.

As for me, I knew I wanted to make a bread that used cornmeal and wheat flour. Mostly, I wanted to ease into this, and I knew that cornmeal was something I had worked with before. Given that the baby had taken my baking mojo for so long, I didn't want to make anything too intense, for fear that I wasn't as "back in the game" as I had thought.

In the end, I chose the Broa, from Bernard Clayton's New Complete Book of Breads. This recipe fit the bill for me perfectly, for a few reasons. First, it was an honest-to-goodness yeast bread baking experience, so I didn't have to feel like I had shirked my responsibilities. Second, the notes on the recipe said it went well with soup, and I planned to make soup to serve to Kurt and Doug for lunch when they took a break from working on finishing our basement. And, lastly, it was an international bread that I had never tried before, which means that it stretched both my abilities and my expectations of a "corn bread" a little.

The end result was good, if a little dry. Thankfully, we had the potato cauliflower soup (coming up in another post) to dunk the bread into. I'm pretty sure the bread was intended to be fairly dry and crumbly, and that it wasn't baker's error. So, I'm filing this under "soup breads" in my mind, as I couldn't really see serving it without some liquid for dunking.

Broa (Portuguese Corn Bread)

adapted from Bernard Clayton's New Complete Book of Breads

1 1/2 cups yellow cornmeal

1 1/2 teaspoons salt

1 1/4 cups boiling water

1 tablespoon olive oil

4 1/2 teaspoons dry yeast

1 1/4 cups King Arthur all-purpose flour (or more, depending on your dough's consistency)

Grease a baking sheet.

Pulverize the cornmeal in a blender or food processor until it is fine and powdery (I used the attachment to my stick blender).

In a stand mixer bowl, combine 1 cup of the powdered cornmeal, the salt, and the boiling water. Stir until smooth. Stir in the olive oil, and cool the mixture until it is lukewarm. Blend in the yeast.

Gradually add the rest of the cornmeal and 1 cup flour, stirring constantly with the flat beater of the mixer. Work the dough until it is a mass, adding 1/4 cup or more flour if necessary to overcome the stickiness.

Place a length of plastic wrap tightly over the bowl, and leave at room temperature until the dough has doubled in volume, 30 minutes.

Knead with dough hook for about 8 minutes, adding flour as necessary to form a firm but not stiff dough.

Shape dough into round ball, place on greased baking sheet and flatten slightly. Cover the ball with wax paper (do make sure it is wax paper--my plastic wrap stuck horribly to the surface of the dough) and leave until it doubles in bulk again, about 30 minutes.

Preheat the oven to 350. Bake about 40 minutes, until bottom crust sounds hollow when tapped. Cool on wire rack.

Rum Raisin Muffins

2009-11-18T20:41:00.000-05:00

My recipe journal tells me that I originally made these muffins on 12/28/08. I remember making them. I can't remember if it was snowing, or if it was going to snow, or if it just happened to be that there was lots of snow on the ground. Either way, snow was involved, since it was, after all, December in New Hampshire. I woke up, thinking that I would bake us some muffins for breakfast. That much I definitely remember. I also remember grabbing my copy of Granny's Muffin House and bringing it into the bed with me so that I could find a suitable recipe.

To my dismay, almost every recipe called for dairy--milk, or sour cream, or buttermilk. I do not keep such things in the house regularly--they usually just end up going bad if I haven't bought them for a specific recipe. But, alas, I did not want to leave, due to the snow situation. Finally, I found the one recipe in the book that used only ingredients in the house--Rum Raisin Muffins.

This was the first recipe I ever made out of this cookbook, so I wasn't sure what to expect. It's a quirky book, at best, written in what I take to be a grandmother's Southern accent, with lots of apostrophes where g's should be, and lots of funky little words. Take, for instance, this sentence from the head notes of the Rum Raisin Muffins: "It's because they're fixin' all the goodies for the homecomin' picnic tomorrow." So, with the all the cutesy intros, I was a little worried about the quality of the recipes. I didn't need to be.

These turned out wonderful. I don't know what you say about a household that doesn't have milk available on a Sunday morning, but has no trouble finding the dark rum. But, I can tell you that these muffins were worth it. They made the house smell incredible, and had just a little hint of that special holiday-season feel to them.

I made them again last Saturday. Again, I chose these muffins because I didn't have milk in the house to make any others. I also wanted the taste of the dark rum, without consuming the alcohol. I used up almost all of the Black Seal we had in the house (which wasn't much--trust me). I've told Kurt that he will have to go alone to replenish. Can't imagine waiting in line at a liquor store with a bottle of Black Seal in my hand, while nine months pregnant. Don't really want the angry glares.

Without further ado, here is the recipe for the Rum Raisin Muffins (colloquialisms and apostrophes removed):

1 cup raisins
1 cup boiling water
1/4 cup dark rum

2 cups flour
1 tablespoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
2/3 cup sugar
1 egg, beaten
1/2 cup butter, melted

Pour boiling water over raisins. Add rum and let sit about 30 minutes. Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Stir together flour and next three ingredients. Stir in the raisin mixture, liquid included, egg, and butter, just until moistened. Fill paper-lined muffin cups full, and bake approximately 20 minutes. Makes a dozen muffins.

Cottage Pie & Comfort Food

2009-11-13T20:10:00.000-05:00

Tonight, it feels like November. It was dark out as I was leaving work. The air had a distinct chill to it. It felt like the kind of night where you want to stay in and make a comforting meal. So, I turned to one that my mom made all the time when I was growing up.

"Cottage Pie," as we called it in our house, had many incarnations throughout my childhood. It started out as the classic beef and mashed potato dish that it is expected to be--the meat sauteed with onions, then simmered with salt, pepper, and beef bouillon. Right before baking, tomato sauce was added to the meat. But, then it morphed. It seems there is someone in our family, who may or may not be me, who hated mashed potatoes. So, the cottage pie was baked without the mashed potatoes, but with American cheese melted on top, for a while. Then, it mutated again, and grew a crescent roll crust, over which the meat was spooned, and then the cheese melted. Eventually, I think it came full circle and the mashed-potato-hater among us agreed to allow them to top the dish once more--though I do believe the layer of cheese remained.

When I began making cottage pie in my own kitchen, the ground beef was switched out for ground turkey--I just like it better. The crescent roll crust was abandoned, as was the melted cheese layer. Essentially, I went back to the original recipe, except for the ground turkey aspect.

The thing about this dish is that as it cooks, I can close my eyes and be magically transported back to 8 Marwood Drive. Mike would be getting home from baseball practice. I would finally be finishing my AP U.S. History homework. Mom would whip this together, with something green on the side, and this is what we would eat together. This is the weeknight food of my childhood.

Now that I am 6-7 weeks away from having a baby of my own, I can't help but wonder what foods my child will come to think of as "home." Sure, chicken soup will probably top the list, just as it does for me. But, that is a big production and, at least for me, is associated with holidays and snow days and times when someone in the family was sick. I'm hoping pot roast will top the list--again, as it does for me--but, again, pot roast encompasses the tastes and smells of holidays and extended family gatherings--not of normal weeknight dinners when it is "just us." And so, I wonder what smells and tastes will transport my child, when he or she is in their 20s, back to our kitchen table. Will it be the smell of bread rising? Of garlic sauteing in olive oil? Will it be cinnamon in the middle of summer--not during the holiday season, as it is for most--as the zucchini bread bakes? What will our kitchen smell like in the coming years? And how will that shape the person we are about to raise?

While I contemplate these questions, I will share with you one of the quintessential recipes of my childhood, which, even while I am twenty-eight and far from New York, comforts me on a cold November evening.

Edited to add that I have found the wonderful, heart-warming Family Recipes event, hosted by Shelby, of The Life and Loves of Grumpy's Honeybunch. While I've been reading through past round-ups, I decided to make my first submission. This recipe seems to fit the bill nicely, tied as it is to my childhood dinners. Hop on over to Shelby's blog to view the roundup after December 1.

Cottage Pie--the original recipe, before it morphed according to family tastes:

1 lb. chopped meat (ground beef or turkey)
1 small onion, chopped
1 (8 ounce) can tomato sauce
1 lb. potatoes
2 Tbs butter
1/2 cup water
1 beef bouillon cube (or whatever flavor bouillon you have on hand)
salt and pepper to taste

Preheat oven to 400 degrees.

Brown onion and meat. Drain fat. Add salt, pepper, and beef cube that has been dissolved in 1/2 cup water. Cook for about 20 minutes. Add sauce. Bring to full boil.

While the meat is cooking, cook cubed potatoes in water. Mash the potatoes with 2 Tbs butter and salt and pepper. Make sure to taste them before putting them on top).

In a pie dish, put meat mixture on the bottom, and the mashed potatoes over it. Bake at 400 degrees for 25-30 minutes, until golden brown.

Golden Bubble Bread--the Ancestor of "Monkey Bread"

2009-10-28T17:54:00.000-04:00

I've been on baking hiatus for a while. As a matter of fact, I've been on kitchen hiatus for a while. At first, it was because I was newly pregnant and exhausted, and had very little interest in food unless it was very unhealthy and served to me (oh, yes, this otherwise-veggie-loving girl was all about the burgers and chicken fingers and fries). But, then, an odd thing started happening. I would try a new recipe for dinner, and it would flop. We're talking "throw it away and order pizza instead" flop. Seemed that the growing fetus was feeding on my kitchen mojo. I guess it will be worth it, once we have a child. But, in the meantime, it has been somewhat frustrating.

I took the day off from work today so that Kurt could get his car looked at. I decided to attempt to bake bread again. Risky, I know. But, I guess, if I didn't start trying again, then I would never go back to being the baking diva that I used to be.

The recipe I chose was "Golden Bubble Ring," from a really old cookbook. It's from the Better Homes and Gardens Bread Cook Book," originally published in 1963. The back says, no joke, "360 exciting ways to let your hospitality show!" Now, why they couldn't add in another five recipes so that we had one for every day of the year, I do not know. But, I can tell you that I simply love the pre-feminist ways the book addresses the reader. There's just something that makes me happy about "Let your talents show when you serve a colorful and refreshing fruit plate accompanied with oven-fresh Puff Pillow Buns...For a beverage serve tall glasses of pink lemonade." It's just so...quaint.

Okay, back to the bread that I made today. Lately, it seems that "monkey bread" is all the rage. You know the stuff--it's all over the internet. You break up pieces of refrigerated biscuit dough and roll them in butter and cinnamon/sugar to make a pull-apart bread. This bread is that trend's ancestor. Same idea--pull-apart cinnamon bread. Except that you use yeast. And it takes four hours to make...if you're good...and don't have to pick up a car in the middle of one of the rises...and don't get interrupted by a call from a rabbi who wants to give you the name of the mohel you asked for, and to also woo you so that you join his congregation. My total was five hours, because of all of the above.

But, oh boy, were those five hours worth it! This bread turned out fabulous. Meltingly rich crumb, and strong, comforting cinnamon flavor. It was quite a treat...even at 6 at night, instead of for breakfast.

It seems that this recipe restored my baking mojo. Maybe it's just that the recipe was written in 1963, and was therefore directed toward my current "barefoot, pregnant, and in the kitchen" state. (Yes, I was barefoot--how cliche of me.). Whatever the reason, I'm glad to be back to baking.

Oh, and here's the recipe. It's worth picking up the book, if you can find it at a used bookstore or garage sale, though. The kitsch factor alone is worth it.

Golden Bubble Ring

adapted from Better Homes and Gardens Bread Cook Book

2 packages active dry yeast (I used 4 1/2 teaspoons)

1/2 cup water

1/2 cup milk, scalded (I used 1/6 cup dry milk reconstituted in 4 ounces of water--didn't scald)

1/2 cup shortening (oh, hell no! I used real butter, all the way)

1/2 cup sugar

1 tsp salt

4 to 4 1/2 cups sifted all-purpose flour (I didn't sift, and used the 4 1/2 cups)

2 beaten eggs

melted butter or margarine (butter!)

3/4 cup sugar

1 tsp cinnamon

Soften active dry yeast in warm water. Combine milk, 1/2 cup sugar, and salt. Add 1 cup flour; beat well. Add yeast mixture and eggs. Beat smooth. Mix in remaining flour, or enough to make a soft dough. Knead on lightly floured surface until smooth and elastic (8 to 10 minutes--about 6 minutes in my Kitchenaid). Place in greased bowl, turning once to grease surface. Cover; let rise in warm place until double (1 to 1 1/4 hours). Punch down. Cover; let rest 10 minutes.

Shape into about 28 balls, golf-ball size. Roll each in melted butter, then in mixture of 3/4 cup sugar and cinnamon. Arrange in well-greased 9-inch tube pan (I used my Bundt pan). Sprinkle with any remaining sugar mixture. let rise in warm place until double (about 1 hour).

Bake in moderate oven (350 degrees) about 35 to 40 minutes. Cool in pan 15 to 20 minutes. Invert on rack. Eat.

Home Is Where the Heart (and the Hot Pastrami on Rye) Is

2009-06-26T17:10:00.000-04:00

When I moved to New England, I was aware that I was moving to a place that is, essentially, a culinary wasteland. I knew full well, as I waved good-bye to my parents from in front of my dorm freshman year, that it would be months before I tasted a real bagel again. However, nothing brings to light this lack of culinary culture quite like pregnancy.

I have no appetite right now. At least, I have no appetite for foods that might be good for me, or, even available to me. Do I want the farm-fresh spinach in my fridge? No. Do I want the chicken and bok choy stir fry that we are supposed to make this week? No. Do I want any of the local delicacies—clam chowder, Boston brown bread (bread from a can????), baked beans, a crockpot full of kielbasa? Absolutely not.

But, if you offered me a bagel, schmeared so thickly with cream cheese that you can’t find the hole, I’d take it. Three nights ago, I had a dream about a pastrami sandwich, piled so high with meat that the backs of the bread didn’t touch (thank you, Mike, for that perfect description)—the bottom slice of rye was soggy with good greasiness, and on the side of my plate was a huge full-sour pickle, sliced in half so that the seeds glistened invitingly. I made the mistake of going to a local luncheonette-type place and getting their pastrami sandwich, in an attempt to satiate that craving. Bad move. Three slices of tough meat, on marble rye (?!?!?!), with so much Gulden’s mustard that I could barely taste anything else…That must have been the point.

As the days tick by in my pregnancy, my homesickness for New York gets worse. Knishes. Round ones, with an oniony tang. Maybe even some broccoli or mushrooms scattered throughout them. (Thank you, Mom, for the recent square knishes—they hit the spot!) Pizza. Dripping in oils that run down your arm and chin. Slices so big that you have to fold them in half to make them manageable. Bagels. Oh, bagels! Hot, so that I can dig out the doughy center and eat that, and then first start on the outside. Cooler, spread with toasted onion cream cheese. Crunchy bottoms, even though they have never seen a toaster. And, when they get a little old, toasted in the toaster oven with a single slice of cheese melted on top. Black and white cookies. Cakey bottom, perfectly firm, shiny icing. Split in half so that each person gets part vanilla and part chocolate when I’m sharing with Mom, but split so that I get the vanilla and he gets the chocolate when sharing with my brother.

No one warned me that dreams during pregnancy are incredibly vivid. Further, no one warned me that the strongest sense in my dreams was going to be taste, and that I was going to wake up with my stomach grumbling, and my heart aching to go home. To have the foods that have always comforted me nearby and readily available. To have the people I used to share those foods with even closer. No one warned me about quite how far away New England is from New York, when we are speaking in terms of appetite.

Potato Rosemary Bread

2008-12-28T18:24:00.000-05:00

Last holiday season, Kurt bought me all the tools I needed to become a real bread baker. He got me a nice, big, sturdy wooden bread board for kneading, and a DVD that showed me, step by step, how to make bread by hand. At the time, I wasn't a complete stranger to bread baking. I had made lots of it in my bread machine, and one or two loaves using my Kitchenaid stand mixer. Still, I considered these "cheating," due to all the mechanical help.

Over the course of the last year, I have developed somewhat of an obsession with yeast. I've acquired more bread baking books than I care to admit. I've read through recipes, absorbing the process until it is as familiar as my multiplication tables--mix, knead, rise, punch down, shape, rise, bake, cool. I've learned why breads rise, and what is really happening while kneading. I've started to understand the chemistry behind the process.

However, throughout all of this, I haven't baked all that much. I have baked a fair number of the breads from Artisan Breads in Five Minutes a Day, and have been happy with the results and fully endorse it to those who want to bake fast, easy, REAL bread. But, for me, it still fell into the "cheating" realm, somehow, because not all the steps were included.

Over the course of the last two weeks, I have turned a corner in my bread baking and have somehow become a little less intimidated. Last Sunday, I made Cinnamon Rolls from The Bread Baker's Apprentice. They came out very well. I was bolstered. I made the Chocolate Swirl Wreath from my last post. It turned out very well. So, I continued.

On Friday, I started a seed culture for a sourdough starter. It's on day three now, and has risen significantly. I can't wait to start baking with a real sourdough starter. And today, I made the Potato Rosemary Bread from The Bread Baker's Apprentice. Actually, I started this bread on Friday, by making the biga. Today, I finished it.

This bread was a long, involved process. I started first thing this morning, by setting a head of garlic in the oven to roast for an hour. At this time, I took the biga out of the fridge, to take the chill off. In the meantime, I made a dozen Ginger Rum Muffins from Granny's Muffin House for breakfast. Then, I boiled the potatoes to make the mashed potatoes. By the time the garlic was done roasting, the potatoes were ready for mashing.

Kurt was busy getting himself on Facebook (finally), so I let the Kitchenaid do the kneading, so that I didn't have to move Kurt in favor of my bread board. This dough rose nicely, and was ready to be shaped after the two hours expected. The boules doubled in size after about an hour and a quarter. Then, I baked them.

The smell alone was worth making this bread. The roasted garlic and rosemary blended together to make my house smell amazing. The taste even surpassed the smell, though. The crumb is tender, the crust crunchy. The roasted garlic and rosemary meld with a hint of potato, and some bite from the ground pepper. Paired with a slice of aged cheddar, this bread is pure enjoyment.

I am probably inordinately proud of this bread. With the biga, and all of the prep work, I finally feel like this is the real thing--even if I did let the Kitchenaid knead it. I will definitely make this one again.

A Bread for Christmas

2008-12-25T16:45:00.001-05:00

As a young Jew, I was always very secure in my religious identity. The only times I began to see cracks in the surface involved certain Christmas traditions. To this day, I cannot be in the same room with a Christmas tree without being completely transfixed with it. I have to inspect all of the ornaments, and watch the lights intently as they run in different patterns.

Around the time of college, there was another Christmas tradition that came to my attention that has invoked a sort of envy. That tradition comes in the broad category of "special food," and, very specifically, "celebration breads." There is something about the idea of a bread that is only made once a year--a bread that is enriched with decadent ingredients--that has always appealed to me. So many cultures have their own Christmas breads--stollen, pannetone, etc. I love their festive shapes and sparkling sprinkle of candied fruit. I don't actually like the taste of citron, but boy, is it pretty.

Perhaps it all comes full circle, and the reason Christmas breads appeal to me is really related to my Jewish-ness. After all, the ceremonial or symbolic bread is not exactly a foreign concept to me. Between the challah and the matzoh, the idea has been pretty ingrained in me. Once, I asked Kurt why he thought I am so attracted to cooking and baking, and he told me he thought it was because I love exploring the nuances of other cultures, and food is one of the most direct ties to that. Whatever the reason, this year I wanted to make a Christmas bread.

Luckily, King Arthur Flour provided me with the perfect opportunity. On their homepage last week, there was a picture of a grand bread wreath. It was beautiful--round, swirled with chocolate, and glazed with confectioners' sugar. The minute I saw it, I knew I wanted to make it. I knew that it was going to stretch my abilities as a bread baker, but I was willing to take on the challenge.

Last night, I embarked on my journey. I let my Kitchenaid do all the kneading, because the dough was very sticky, and I didn't want to toughen it with too much flour while kneading by hand. I let it rise while we ate dinner, and then rolled the dough out. I sprinkled it with semisweet chocolate chips. It called for chocolate schmear, but I didn't have any (or time to order it), so I used the chocolate chips instead. I was liberal with them, using far more than the 1/2 cup suggested. On went the sugar, and the almonds. I had Kurt roll it up, since he has become rather proficient at the task after years of making our cranberry-pecan spiral cookies. We sliced it, and made it into a pretty circle, and let it rise again while I chatted with my family on the phone.

I took the pictures after pulling the bread out of the oven, but before glazing it. I am sorry that I do not have final photos, since the glaze made it even prettier (and then removed it from the filling-encrusted baking sheet, which also improved the presentation).

The end result was a dessert bread that tasted like a dense Danish ring. The chunks of chocolate chips provided a nice bite, and the almonds melted to a near-marzipan quality. I will definitely be making this one again.

If you are interested, here is the recipe, courtesy of King Arther Flour. I replaced the Hi-Maize with regular all-purpose flour, and used semisweet chocolate chips in place of the chocolate schmear.

Happy holidays!

Why NOT to buy a first edition of a cookbook...

2008-11-02T14:58:00.001-05:00

Tonight, we are having friends over for dinner. Well, kind of. We are having friends over, and we will eat dinner, but the friends are cooking for us. This particular friend is an amazing cook, so we let him have free reign over our kitchen when he visits.

Not wanting to look like a slacker, I decided to make a cake for dessert. I chose the Quadruple Chocolate Loaf from Nigella Lawson's book, Feast. I had made her Guiness cake, and it is nothing short of heavenly. So, I was confident in her recipe-writing abilities. And, even though it made me a little nervous and queasy, when the recipe said to line the pan in plastic wrap (with a note that said, "Don't panic--it won't melt."), I followed the instructions because I figured she knew what she was doing.

She didn't. At all. I checked on the cake after a half hour of baking, and there was no plastic wrap anymore. It had completely melted into the cake, onto my bread pan, and onto the bottom of my oven. Wonderful!

I was obviously very upset about the disaster that was my cake. So, I did what any rational girl would do. I Googled it. First, I came up with the recipe--clearly stating that you should use greased tin foil. And then I came across some other people who had had my problem. It appears that later editions of the book had the tin foil, but that the first edition that some of us unluckily had, states to use the plastic wrap.

So, I guess the moral of the story is never to buy the first edition of a cookbook, no matter how much you trust the author. And, if something doesn't seem right, Google it BEFORE you start baking. Chances are, some poor, unfortunate blogger has already made your mistakes. But, I won't know that unless you search it out beforehand.

From now on, I'm trusting my instincts in the kitchen more than the written word in front of me. Now to go see if I can get that melted plastic wrap off of my bread pan.

An Emotional Baker

2008-10-21T19:45:00.001-04:00

I've been long absent from my blogging. I think it's just because I got lazy about taking pictures, and actually uploading them. I've been cooking. I've been baking. And, now that the weather is cooler, I've been doing a lot more of both.

Lately, I haven't been happy at work. I won't go into the specifics, since my company has a very explicit "No Blogging About Us" policy. But, I will suffice to say, without mentioning what company I work for, or any specifics at all, that I have not been in good spirits while there, or at the end of my day.

I've been told that there are people who are emotional eaters. They get upset, and they dive into the chocolate, the ice cream, the chips, the macaroni and cheese. I always sort of identified myself as one of these. I've found out over the last three weeks that I was wrong. I don't emotionally eat. As a matter of fact, that's exactly what I do. I, emotionally, don't seem to eat. I've lost more weight by being unhappy at work for three weeks than I did by going to the gym four times a week for two months. It's not that I'm skipping meals (or snacks), really. It's just that I sit down to eat it, take a few bites, and am...done.

Now, one would think that, if one had very little appetite, one would lose interest in cooking/baking. Not the case, apparently. Last night, I was left to my own devices. I had had a particularly rough return to work from a week-long vacation. And so, I unleashed myself upon my kitchen. I made a Cranberry-Banana Bread with fresh, tart cranberries sprinkled throughout it. I put together a dinner of Garlicky Stewed White Beans with Green Peppers, and stood over the pot breathing in the glorious garlic smell as it simmered. Well, the garlic smell mixed with the cinnamon smell, from the baking bread.

It seems that I might be an emotional baker. Tonight, after a dinner of Ramen noodles (yeah, I went there--I used real bouillon in place of their MSG-filled packets, though. I told you I haven't been hungry!), I set about making Banana-Chocolate Brunch Cake. I even did all of the dishes when I was finished (a rarity--that's usually Kurt's job). As I type this, the house is slowly filling with the warm cinnamon scent of the cake.

I should probably make note, as the girl who is all about local food, why I am using so many bananas. As I was food shopping on Sunday--for the first time post-CSA season--I stumbled upon a "reduced to clear" rack in the produce department. There, staring at me, was a wrapped package of past-prime organic bananas. There were five of them, for the unbelievable price of 57 cents. I couldn't leave them behind. I actually consider my purchase of only ONE package to be a sign of great self-control. I easily could have walked away with 30 over-ripe bananas, perfect for baking, for all of $3.42. My freezer would have been fat and happy. But, I resisted.

My oven timer is ringing. It is time to remove the banana cake...and maybe think about baking some cookies.

TWD: Peanut Butter Oatmeal Chocolate Chipsters

2008-09-02T21:04:00.001-04:00

I've been behind on my TWD baking. I actually made the Granola Grabbers, but they disappeared before I could take pictures of them, and my Tuesday got busy, so I didn't get to blog. Since I had a long weekend, I promised myself I would follow through with this week's recipe. I am so glad I did.

These cookies were easy to put together, and made the house smell amazing. They tasted incredible, too. There's something nostalgic in their flavor. I can't put my finger on it. I can't imagine that it is a childhood memory, since my mother didn't bake that often, and certainly would have shuddered at 2 sticks of butter. I don't think they have a Weight Watcher point value for that. There's just a giant red NO when you look it up, I suspect. Still, the taste reminds me of childhood, for some reason. Or maybe it just tastes like what childhood should taste like. I can't help but feel that these are ideal lunchbox cookies--they have protein from the peanut butter, fiber from the oatmeal, and kid appeal from the chocolate chips. Of course, all of this is overlooking the 2 cups of sugar (one brown, one white) and the 2 sticks of butter. It is easy to overlook such things when they taste so good.

My story has a sad ending, however. Tonight, Kurt and I went out to run a couple of errands--most important of which was to buy our dog a 40-pound bag of food. Feeling that she had been such a good girl all weekend, I also purchased a nice, meaty knuckle for her to chew on, and some premium kibble that had bigger bites to put in her saucer toy (which she rolls around, eating the bits until it is empty). All of that, and I come home to find a ziplock bag torn to shreds on my rug. I knew immediately that this was no ordinary ziplock bag. In fact, this was the very ziplock bag that held about 10 more of these luscious cookies (one of which I was anxiously awaiting as my dessert). My dog has not gotten her meaty knuckle. She has not gotten her bigger kibble. And she'll be lucky if she gets her regular food in her bowl. Of course, she's probably not hungry, anyway, after eating the last of my cookies. Let's hope the chocolate doesn't affect her, and that I return to speaking terms with her some time this week.

If you would like to check out the recipe, go to Stefany's blog, Proceed with Caution. I would warn you, though, if you do make this recipe, to keep it well outside the reach of your animal companion. Thank you, Stefany, for a wonderful recipe choice!

In Tribute

2008-08-12T20:20:00.000-04:00

The Workman family received bad news this weekend. Grandmother Workman, the matriarch of the Workman family, passed away on Friday night. She was 87 years old, loved and cherished by her five children, five grandchildren, and three great-grandchildren.

I didn't know Grandmother as well as I would have liked to. However, she was always extremely warm to me, always quick with a smile and a quip when I was around. Somehow, though I met her in the twilight of her life, I always felt a connection with Grandmother. Within her love of her home and her acclaim in the kitchen, I always felt that she was a kindred spirit. I like to believe that the welcome she showed me means that she felt it, too.

This evening, after the gathering of the family and the funeral, I have felt drawn to my kitchen. Doug (Grandmother's second son and my husband's father) has always said that no one cooks or bakes as well as his mother. Grandmother's fresh-baked bread and pecan pie are the stuff of legends, especially among the Workmans. So, it does not surprise me that, after paying tribute to Grandmother's life in the form of a wake and funeral, I felt compelled to enter my own kitchen and dig in to some flour. I suspect I am not the only person feeling this, as this morning there were homemade quick breads and cakes gracing the kitchen table, each brought by family members who had made them. Perhaps food is a way to deal with grief. Or perhaps a warm oven and a batter-flecked apron seemed an appropriate way to mourn a wonderful woman.

In memory of Grandmother, I would like to share my favorite excerpt from Barbara Kingsolver's amazing book Animal, Vegetable, Miracle. Grandmother will be greatly missed, and very fondly remembered.

I'm drawn to [The Day of the Dead], I'm sure, because I live in a culture that allows almost no room for dead people. I celebrated Dia de los Muertos in the homes of friends from a different background, with their deceased relatives for years before I caught on. But I think I understand now. When I cultivate my garden I'm spending time with my grandfather, sometimes recalling deeply buried memories of him, decades after his death. While shaking beans from an envelope I have been overwhelmed by a vision of my Pappaw's speckled beans and flat corn seeds in peanut butter jars in his garage, lined up in rows, curated as carefully as a museum collection. That's Xantolo, a memory space opened before my eyes, which has no name in my language.

When I'm cooking, I find myself inhabiting the emotional companionship of the person who taught me how to make a particular dish, or with whom I used to cook it. Slamming a door on food-rich holidays, declaring food an enemy, sends all the grandparents and great aunts to a lonely place. I have been so relieved lately to welcome them back: my tiny great-aunt Lena who served huge, elaborate meals at her table but would never sit down there with us herself, insisting on eating alone in the kitchen instead. My grandmother Kingsolver, who started every meal plan with dessert. My other grandmother, who made perfect rolls and gravy. My Henry grandfather, who used a cool attic room to cure the dark hams and fragrant cloth-wrapped sausages he made from his own hogs. My father, who first took me mushroom hunting and taught me to love wild asparagus. My mother, whose special way of beating eggs makes them fly in an ellipse in the bowl.

Here I stand in the consecrated presence of all they have wished for me, and cooked for me. Right here, canning tomatoes with Camille, making egg bread with Lily. Come back, I find myself begging every memory. Come back for a potholder hug.

TWD: Chocolate Pudding

2008-07-15T19:27:00.000-04:00

I've never been a fan of chocolate pudding. It always seemed like a waste of dessert for me. If I'm going to eat chocolate, I'm going to eat CHOCOLATE. And if I'm going to eat my dessert with a spoon, I'm going to eat ice cream, and really eat my dessert with a spoon. Chocolate pudding was relegated to something to eat when I had teeth pulled (a common occurence when I was a child, unfortunately), or when my throat was so swollen that I couldn't eat anything else.

The thing that I never realized before was that there is chocolate pudding that is not Jell-O pudding. This chocolate pudding is not Jell-O pudding. This chocolate pudding does not deserve to have to share a name with Jell-O pudding. This chocolate pudding almost isn't pudding...it's chocolate divintiy in a glass. It is like no other "pudding" I have ever tasted before.

So, the process. It was a little involved, and I made it while I wasn't feeling well. There were a lot of steps. Melt the chocolate. Bring the milk and the sugar to a boil. Pulse together the dry ingredients. Pulse together the eggs and sugar. Run the machine while adding the hot milk. Put the whole thing back over the heat. Pulse it all again. Add the butter and chocolate. Spoon it into glasses and refrigerate for what felt like an unfair amount of time. Why bother with all of this when you can just add some powder to some milk and have chocolate pudding?

The answer, upon tasting the results, is obvious. This is something beyong pudding. This is almost mousse-like. This holds its bittersweet flavor and therefore isn't cloyingly sweet like the boxed variety. This pudding does not need to be a component. It is a wonderful, satisfying dessert all on its own--yes, even without whipped cream. This chocolate pudding is well worth the extra steps. This chocolate pudding, it turns out, is anything other than a waste of dessert.

Chickpea-Kale Stew with Chorizo

2008-07-09T20:41:00.000-04:00

I had a whole, long post typed out catching up from the last time I posted, and my computer just ate it. Gone. So, out of sheer laziness, I am picking up with tonight. Sorry about the lack of catch up.

Lately, I've been inundated with greens from my CSA. The list of items I am getting is long, but most of them fall into the same category--leafy greens. Now, I might get kicked out of the kind-of-crunchy club for saying this, but I don't like dark leafy greens. I'm sorry. I just don't. I love spinach. I've learned to like chard, but it has taken work. Kale? Escarole? Collards? They kind of make my stomach turn.

I recognize that early in the growing season--spring and early summer up here in New Hampshire--are the time for greens. I've read Animal Vegetable Miracle, and I know what the vegetannual looks like. I know leaves come first. I wish I could feel a burst of excitment when I see piles of greens on my table after our pick up at the CSA. But, I don't. All I see is a bump in the road that I have to pass on the way to my favorites--the summer squash and zucchini and tomatoes and carrots and potatoes and basil.

Bump in the road or not, the greens have to be consumed. I cannot stand by and let a farmer's hard work go to waste--especially not a farmer I have to look in the eye the next time I pick up my share. And so the hunt is on. I need to find recipes that incorporate greens without making me gag.

I was shocked. I found one tonight. Not only did it not make me gag, but I liked it. I mean, really, actually liked it. The recipe is for Chickpea-Kale Stew with Chorizo, originally from the December 2007 issue of Cooking Light. I used chorizo that is made at a local butcher out of happy pigs (well, probably not happy anymore, but they lived happy, healthy, uncaged lives). I also used canned chickpeas, because that was just easier for my time schedule. If you make this recipe, do not leave out the lemon wedges. They give the whole stew a new spin and bring everything together. Ultimately, it was the lemon that made the kale--dare I say it?--taste good to me.

Overall, I've learned two valuable lessons tonight. Next time I'm looking for a kale recipe, look for one that incorporates lemon juice. They seem to go well together. The other lesson is one that I probably knew before, but kale made me doubt. If I look hard enough for a good recipe, and keep trying without giving up, I can learn to like any vegetable in at least one application. Thank you, Cooking Light, for finding the key to kale for me.

TWD: Mixed Berry Cobbler

2008-06-24T20:40:00.000-04:00

For years, I never knew there was a difference between a crisp and a cobbler. As a matter of fact, I wasn't aware of the difference until this week's Tuesdays with Dorie recipe came out. Let it be known, there is definitely a difference.

Now, I'm not necessarily saying that a cobbler is fussy. But, I will say that cobbler is far more fussy than a crisp. A crisp is a 10-minute affair. You can chop the fruit, toss together the topping, and have it ready to bake before the oven is even preheated. Not so with a cobbler, which requires making a dough similar to a pie crust.

The end result was excellent, so I'm not complaining. The frozen mixed berries worked perfectly, and didn't require chopping, etc. The topping was crisp and crunchy, and just right under the mushy berries and melting vanilla ice cream. If I had to change anything at all, it would be the fruit. I have an aversion to anything that tastes too much like artificial raspberry flavoring--a lasting result of having Lyme disease at nine years old, and having to take a raspberry-flavored medicine that made me feel seasick all summer. The combination of the raspberries (which I have no trouble eating fresh) with the sugar and cornstarch came a little too close to hitting that old gag point. Next time, I might stick to blueberries and strawberries. Or, maybe take Dorie's suggestion in "playing around," and try it with apples and maple syrup. Yum!

Another note--you can ignore Dorie's pleas to eat this the day it is made. We did, of course. But, as a two-person household, we weren't about to finish it in one night. Unrefrigerated, it kept quite nicely and was very satisfying today. So, rest assured, if you do not finish it in one sitting, it will keep just fine overnight.

Overall, this was a great recipe. I'm definitely looking forward to using it for the base for many future variations.

TWD: La Palette Strawberry Tart

2008-06-10T18:19:00.000-04:00

This week's Tuesdays with Dorie challenge was for a strawberry tart. It was an odd recipe for me, in that it was hardly a recipe in all. Instead, it was more, make a pie crust, put some jam and fruit on it, and serve, with something creamy on top. Easy enough.

The hard part was the strawberries. You see, I'm a bit of a stickler for the local/in season thing. I know that, for most places on the East Coast, this was a seasonal recipe. But, up in New Hampshire, strawberry season has not yet sprung.

So, I sat with my conscience to figure out how and if I could do this recipe. On Sunday, I determined that I could--I would just go to the local farm stand, which would have gotten the strawberries as locally as possible (they have sister farms throughout the East Coast). I resolved to start the crust when I realized that I was out of powdered sugar.

I went to the supermarket to fulfill my powdered sugar need (and, in the meantime, restock my butter supply, which it seems TWD quickly depletes). The heat got the better of me. It went from 60 degrees on Friday to 95 on Saturday, and it maintains, still today. At the supermarket, I got to thinking "do I really want to go all the way to the farm stand in this heat? Nah. Better to pick up the strawberries now, while I'm here." So, I did. My good, usually localvore self, bought California strawberries at a huge chain supermarket. Shame on me.

And, honestly, my dessert showed it. My tart would have been so much better with local, just-picked strawberries. The tart crust was wonderful (I've eaten pieces of the unassembled, leftover crust on its own since Sunday). The jam--which was locally produced in MA by Trappist monks--was wonderful. The fresh whipped cream, heavily dosed with vanilla, was wonderful. The strawberries...were okay. They were cold. And, in that point in time, this was a major attribute. But, they weren't strawberries. They were...well, strawberries.

So, I found myself a great recipe to use the next time that I have real, fresh, locally-picked fruit in season. At that point, this recipe will be nothing less than stellar.

As a side note, I did end up going to the farm stand later in the afternoon. So, this dessert followed the first all-local meal of my season--scrambled eggs with asparagus, spinach and blue cheese. Here's to the start of a season filled with ripe local fruits and veggies!

All About Me

2008-06-08T11:02:00.000-04:00

Lisa, of Bumblebutton, tagged me for a meme. I'm pretty new at the whole blogging thing, so I hope I do this right.

The rules: Each participant answers questions about herself. At the end of the post the participant tags 5 people. Their names are posted letting them know they've been tagged. They then have to read the participant's blog. The tagged lets the tagger know when she's posted her answers.

What was I doing ten years ago? Ten years ago, I was just barely 17 years old. I had just completed my junior year of high school. The summer of 1998, I went with USY to Poland for ten days, and then spent six weeks in Israel. It's hard to believe that was ten years ago. It's also hard to believe that Israel felt so safe back then. I came home from that trip with such a heightened sense of myself--of who I am, and where I came from. I also came home with what was probably my only true tan in my entire life.

What are five (non-work) things on my to-do list for today:
1. Get my poor, sprouted potato seeds planted. I seem to have over-ordered seed potatoes, and don't have quite enough containers to plant all of them (okay, fine--I'm short 9--but at least we'll have lots and lots of potatoes to eat next fall/winter.).
2. Go to Wilson Farm stand. The TWD challenge is a strawberry tart, but it's a little early for strawberries in NH. If anyone will have them, Wilson will.
3. Bake the TWD tart, if I do find strawberries. If I don't, well...I guess I'll have to sit out this week. I'm pretty stubborn about not using produce that comes from all the way across the country.
4. Call Kelsey to work on ordering invitations for Amy's bridal shower.
5. Take pictures of my garden to share with friends and family who don't live nearby.

5 Snacks I enjoy:
1. Hummus with celery sticks.
2. Fruit--whatever is in season.
3. A cold glass of herbal iced tea. Maybe not a "snack," but I make it during that 3 PM hungry time at work pretty often to put off actual snacking until I get home.
4. A square of good chocolate.
5. Whatever I've recently baked. During the summer, this usually includes zucchini bread.

Things I would do if I were a billionaire:
This list could go on and on, but for now:
1. Buy a nice, fertile, flat piece of property to grow a lot more food on. I'd like it to be able to support lots and lots of veggies, a berry patch, and an orchard with all of the fruit trees I desire (apples, peaches, pears, and plums).
2. I love my house, so I'd probably stay there. But, I would like to give it a second floor, add on a deck and screened-in-porch, and remodel the bathroom (because it needs it), and the kitchen (because I'd like to).
3. I'd buy my family houses in the area that I live in. Not that they would have to live there full-time, but at least so that they could come for extended visits and have their own space.
4. Travel more--I'd definitely like to go out to California again, explore Washington and Oregon, and, of course, there is traveling to see my family more.
5. Buy a VW Westie, fix it up, and use it to go camping (Sally dog in tow, for this one).
6. Go to all the live concerts my heart desires, without worrying how far away it is (and having to get up in the morning for work), or how much the tickets are. I guess I already did this back in 2001-2003, but I'd love to have the ability to be that care-free again.

Places I have lived:
Hauppauge, NY
Boston, MA
Somerville, MA
Southern NH

Jobs I have had:
Office clerical
Bookseller at Waldenbooks, Borders, and Barnes and Noble (during various summers)
Cashier at HMV records
Ticket seller at the Children's Museum of Boston
Clerical in shoe buying department at Filene's
Financial Analyst at Filene's
Financial Analyst at a company that shall remain unnamed

And finally, those lovely bloggers that I have tagged...
Robin, of Made with Love
Danielle, of Sweet and Savory Eats
Steph, of A Whisk and a Spoon
Jacque, of Daisy Lane Cakes
Hygeia, of Phamished

Have fun, ladies!

TWD: French Chocolate Brownies

2008-06-03T17:37:00.000-04:00

This past week, I joined Tuesdays with Dorie, a weekly baking group. I have been reading a number of blogs from people who participate, and knew it was something I would like to join. What could be better than the promise of weekly sweets, while stretching my culinary skills?

The first recipe, French Chocolate Brownies, chosen by Di of Di's Kitchen Notebook, definitely did push me to try something I probably wouldn't have otherwise. First of all, there is the fact that they are homemade brownies. Now, I'm all for made-from-scratch. I'm probably too all for made-from-scratch for the tastes of the people around me. However, those brownies from the box are damn good. So, I leave it to other people around me to bring the brownies (made from the red box, of course), while I concentrate on made-from-scratch goods that are different, or at least where the box varieties kind of suck.

The second "stretch" for this recipe was the raisins. I love raisins. I stick them in quick breads, and yeast breads, and bread puddings. My husband, who was fairly anti-raisin when he met me ("Why ruin a good oatmeal cookie?"), has even come around to the raisin side of things, due to my baking. But, raisins in brownies even made me raise my eyebrows? Why embellish a brownie?

For those who know me, you know that I believe firmly in trying a recipe exactly as written the first time around. That way, I have a feel for what the author intended, and I can tell if the recipe, itself is worthy. All bets are off if and when I make the recipe again. Then, I improvise to my heart's content (my mother's chocolate 10-pound cake comes to mind, the latest incarnation of which was a pistachio-white chocolate chip 10-pound cake). So, with that spirit, I pushed down my doubts and tried this raisin-enhanced brownie recipe.

I'm really glad I did. The rum-flamed raisins (the flaming part was surprisingly fun) served as moist little morsels throughout the already-moist, very smooth brownie. As a matter of fact, the brownies were so smooth and melt-in-your mouth that I dare say the raisins gave me something to chew. Otherwise, the rest could just dissolve blissfully without much help from my teeth.

So, the end result was that the raisins were a good idea. The other end result is that these made-from-scratch brownies were far better than the red box ever even dreamed of being. So, the next time someone says, "Why don't you bring some brownies?" I might not be so quick to decline in favor of something more complicated. These brownies brought brownies back to something that I am willing to make, and with pride.

Green Green Noodle Soup

2008-05-29T18:13:00.001-04:00

When you have literally hundreds of cookbooks, choosing a recipe can be difficult. Your first task is to choose which book to look through for ideas. That, in itself, is daunting. Then, choosing the recipe itself, from what is likely hundreds in any given book. It is no wonder that I have set a goal of making two new recipes every week. Even at that rate, I do not think I could ever make every recipe in my house.

With so many recipes to choose from, and all the new ones I make per month, it's no surprise that, every now and then, I stumble upon one that is less than stellar. Green Green Noodle Soup, from The Enchanted Broccoli Forest, falls into that category. It wasn't terrible--we ate it and did not order a pizza. But, it wasn't great. Unfortunately for the recipes that reside in my home, it is truly a case of survival of the fittest. A mediocre dish that might have been made again in another home gets scrapped in mine, with the epitaph of "with so many recipes to choose from, why make anything that is less than incredible?"

It wasn't that the soup was bad. I think it was all about personal preference. The soup consisted of onions and garlic sauteed in olive oil and butter with some herbs, zucchini and spinach added to that, then vegetable broth added so that the whole thing can simmer. The soup was ladled over spinach linguine that had been tossed with pesto. We grated some Parmesan cheese over the whole thing. Everything here sounds great to me. It's the one step that I skipped over when reading, and skipped over just now in typing it that, in my opinion, ruined the soup. Half of the soup, pre-ladling over the noodles, gets pureed. And that, to me, made all the difference. I think the problem was more one of texture than flavor for me. Unfortunately, a problem with texture is near impossible for me to overcome.

And so Green Green Noodle Soup had met the fate of many recipes before it. It got eaten, and then got a "do not make again" stamp. Better luck next time.

Morning Glory Muffins

2008-05-28T19:48:00.000-04:00

I chose Morning Glory Muffins, from King Arthur Flour Whole Grains Baking to be the first recipe that The Jam Girlz would make for our Bake-a-Long. I chose it because it was made with whole grains, and looked interesting and easy.

On Sunday morning, I decided that it would be a great time to make the muffins. I had a wedding to go to in Connecticut, and figured that they would make a great on-the-go breakfast for the two-hour ride down there.

The first modification I made to the recipe was to make them in a mini loaf pan instead of in a muffin tin. I'll be honest--I didn't like the sound to having to grease the paper muffin liners, and my muffin tin has sort of seen its day (to the point where I don't really want food in direct contact with the baking surface). Also, it seemed fitting to use the mini loaf pan on the way to Chach and JoJo's wedding, considering that Chach and JoJo had given us the muffin pan as a wedding gift just eight months before.

The muffins came together fairly easily. The hardest part was realizing that the bowl to my food processor was in the waiting line to be washed, and therefore wasn't immediately available to me. After that, it was smooth sailing.

The loaves took a little longer to bake than the muffins would have--about ten minutes extra. This wasn't necessarily the best thing, since I was on a tight schedule to get to the wedding in time. As a result, Kurt and I ended up taking still-steaming morning glory bread on the road with us.

They turned out wonderful. The raisins were plump and moist, due to their soak. The carrots, apple, and coconut made for colorful confetti throughout the inside, and the sunflower seeds offered an interesting crunch. I must say, they were also filling, and sustained us through the wedding ceremony--I was surprised to realize that I wasn't even hungry when lunch was served.

As for the wedding itself, it was held in the couple's backyard under perfectly sunny skies. The temperature remained a steady not-too-hot, not-too-cold 73, and everyone had a great time. Chach and JoJo certainly know how to throw a great party. I hope all their days are as fun-filled, action-packed, and fair-weathered as their wedding day was.

Morning Glory Muffins
adapted from King Arthur Flour Whole Grains Baking

1/2 cup raisins
2 cups white whole wheat flour
1 cup brown sugar
2 teaspoons baking soda
2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon ground ginger
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 cups peeled and grated carrots
1 large tart apple, peeled, cored and grated
1/2 cup sweetened coconut
1/3 cup sunflower seeds
3 large eggs
2/3 cup vegetable oil
1/4 cup fresh-squeezed orange juice
2 teaspoons vanilla extract

Preheat the oven to 375. Lightly grease a muffin tin or line with papers and coat the papers with nonstick spray.

Put the raisins in a small bowl and cover them with hot water; set aside to soak while you assemble the rest of the recipe.

Whisk together the flour, sugar, baking soda, spices and salt in a large mixing bowl. Stir in the carrots, apple, coconut, and sunflower seeds. In a separate bowl, beat together the eggs, oil, orange juice, and vanilla. Add to the flour mixture, and stir until evenly moistened. Drain the raisins and stir them in.

Scoop the batter evenly into the prepared pan (the muffin cups will be almost full to the top; that's OK). Bake the muffins until nicely domed and a cake tester inserted in the center comes out clean, 25 to 28 minutes. Remove from the oven and allow the muffins to cool in the pan for 5 minutes, then turn them out onto a rack to finish cooling.

Makes 12 muffins, or 4 mini loaves.

Cauliflower Rye Casserole

2008-05-21T19:41:00.000-04:00

Spring in New England doesn't always feel like spring. Every now and then, you'll get a glorious, 70-degree day. But, in New England, spring is more about waiting for those days than actually experiencing them. Today was one of the waiting days. It was barely 60 degrees when I got home from work, and it had just started to rain...hard.

The smell of rye bread toasting when I walked through the door was welcome. I knew right away that Kurt had started our dinner, a recipe from Sundays at Moosewood, Cauliflower Rye Casserole.

This recipe is comfort food at its best. The smell of the rye and caraway fill the whole house. The oven stays on throughout the entire preparation, sending gentle heat throughout the kitchen. The dish itself is cheesy and gooey and warms right to the soul.

With the number of new recipes that I try every month, it is rare for one to stand out so much that it becomes an instant classic in the house. The Cauliflower Rye Casserole did just that. Since making it for the first time in February, we've made it at least another three times. The ingredients sound strange, but, put together, they are the perfect blend. If this recipe hadn't come from the Moosewood Collective, I probably wouldn't have trusted it. However, my experience with Moosewood has been to just go with it, because they know what they are doing.

Cauliflower Rye Casserole

adapted from Sundays at Moosewood Restaurant

1 cup beer

3 cups rye bread cubes

1 head cauliflower

2 tablespoons butter

1 teaspoon caraway seeds

1 1/2 cups grated extra sharp cheddar cheese

4 eggs

1 teaspoon dry mustard

1/2 teaspoon ground coriander seeds

freshly ground black pepper to taste

Pour the beer and stir and let sit until it becomes flat.

Put bread cubes on baking sheet, and toast in a 300-degree oven until they are crisp, but not browned, about 15 to 20 minutes. When cubes come out of oven, turn oven up to 350 degrees.

Saute the cauliflower in the butter with the caraway seeds until just barely tender. Combine the bread cubes and cauliflower with the grated cheese. Spread the mixture into a greased 3-quart casserole dish.

Mix the eggs, mustard, coriander, and black pepper with the beer, and pour the mixture into the casserole dish.

Bake at 350 for 45 minutes, until puffed and golden.