Homemade Lo Mein

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

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

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

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

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

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)

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.