Maybe it's my stage in life, maybe it's having lost my grandfather last month. For whatever reason I'm really feeling Italian lately - and not in a nasty, stereotypical "Jersey Shore" kinda way.
Hearing no other ideas from the household peanut gallery it was time for a somewhat-traditional Italian Christmas Eve. My 80-something grandmother (she was married to her two-years-younger second husband for years before he found out her age, so I'm not telling) seemed to be a good source of info, so I gave her a call from the car.
[Side story - both of my grandparents could not - simply could not - understand this "being allergic to shellfish" business. As if I made it up. As if God would exempt me for the sake of heritage. As if it were some trendy malady and I'd hopped on the bandwagon. Remember the scene in "My Big Fat Greek Wedding" when everyone freaked out about the boyfriend being vegetarian, and the aunt said "It's OK! I'll make lamb." That, but "shrimp."]
Me: I'm picking up fish for dinner tonight. What side dishes are traditional?
Grandmother: It's the Feast of the Seven Fishes. That's a lot of food, Steph. Who had room for side dishes?
Me: Fair enough. So what did y'all used to have?
Grandmother: Smelts. Shrimp, of course. Usually some tuna. Baccala*, which your aunt adored. My father loved spaghetti with anchovies, or sardines - you're probably not going to make that one, I guess. And he always had to have scungilli (eel). You could do something easy, like flounder. And of course we had all the other stuff that goes with it.
Me, fingers crossed: Other stuff?
Grandmother: You know, the vegetables.
Me, finally getting somewhere: Really? What did you have?
Grandmother, thinking.... : The usual stuff. Potatoes, I guess. Nothing fancy.
Sigh.
The DeKalb Farmer's Market is an amazing, thriving, international foodie paradise with a lot of things I've never heard of and can't pronounce and would love to try. And on Christmas Eve, if you were in the fish section then chances were good your last name ends with a vowel. An immediate community bonded; there was recipe talk, antipasto ideas, complaints about Aunt Rose, Aunt Mary, Uncle Sal, etc.
I will, at some point, post the recipe I made up for dinner tonight. I'm going to enter it in a contest, and to be eligible it has to be unpublished (yes, even on my own blog).
And the answer to the questions.... why fish, and why seven? It appears no one knows for certain. There is a theory that the idea comes from the Seven Hills of Rome - um, there's fish in them thar hills?? I don't get it. There is another that it's rooted in the traditions of Catholicism, which I don't understand well enough to detail.
This much I do know. Whether your December tradition is calamari or grilled pork or take-out, tradition matters. My grandmother's memories of her own childhood holidays, then sharing them with her children and grandchildren, are giving her comfort now. My grandfather's two biggest concerns with me were that I would forget I was Italian and/or turn Republican. And he may have considered those the same thing, Rudy Giuliani nonwithstanding.
The fish was on the table. And it was, if I say so myself, pretty darn good. And steamed veggies on the side - nothing fancy.
*Baccala is salted cod. Starting at least four days prior to serving it has to be soaked - with the water changed every six hours - to get the salt out. One of my friends once said it was something you would take to war as a physical weapon, a threat, and - if absolutely necessary - food.
Friday, December 25, 2009
Saturday, December 19, 2009
OCD Eggs
Meaning, of coure, Off-Center Deviled Eggs. CLEVER, no?
My BFF has been known to call my cell, from the grocery store, as she debates one cut of meat vs. another. She can cook, but doesn't get the same enjoyment from it that I do - and after knowing her for (gulp!) nearly thirty years, this is how it is.
So the latest question from my burgeoning-with-child friend was "There's a right way and other ways to hard-boil eggs, right? And how do I get the yolk in the middle and not off to the side for when I make deviled eggs?"
You know what? She's right. There's more to boiling an egg than just boiling water.
The part about keeping the yolk in the middle? EASY, and probably not what you were expecting. The day before you're going to cook them, take the eggs out of the carton and replace them, on their sides, in the carton (or in a casserole dish). You won't be able to close the carton. Keep them on their sides for 24 hours before cooking, and you too will have Martha-esque yolk-in-the-middle eggs.
And of course, that really only matters if you're hard-boiling.
Don't boil the water first. Put a single layer of eggs in a saucepan and cover with cold water; the water level should be about an inch above the eggs. Add one teaspoon of baking soda to the water, which will help make your eggs easier to peel. Bring to boiling over high heat - crank that flame up!
Once boiling, reduce the heat immediately so that the water is just barely simmering. Cover the saucepan and set the timer for 15 minutes. Let them cook undisturbed.
When 15 minutes is up, run cold water over the eggs. You're done the hard-boiling part.
To be-devil the eggs-
6 hard-cooked eggs
1/4 cup mayonnaise
1 tp prepared mustard
1 tsp vinegar
Halve hard-cooked eggs lengthwise and remove the yolks gently.
Place yolks in a bowl and mash with a fork. Add mayo, mustard, and vinegar; mix well. If desired, season with salt and pepper. Stuff egg-white halves with yolk mixture. If desired, sprinkle with paprika.
My BFF has been known to call my cell, from the grocery store, as she debates one cut of meat vs. another. She can cook, but doesn't get the same enjoyment from it that I do - and after knowing her for (gulp!) nearly thirty years, this is how it is.
So the latest question from my burgeoning-with-child friend was "There's a right way and other ways to hard-boil eggs, right? And how do I get the yolk in the middle and not off to the side for when I make deviled eggs?"
You know what? She's right. There's more to boiling an egg than just boiling water.
The part about keeping the yolk in the middle? EASY, and probably not what you were expecting. The day before you're going to cook them, take the eggs out of the carton and replace them, on their sides, in the carton (or in a casserole dish). You won't be able to close the carton. Keep them on their sides for 24 hours before cooking, and you too will have Martha-esque yolk-in-the-middle eggs.
And of course, that really only matters if you're hard-boiling.
Don't boil the water first. Put a single layer of eggs in a saucepan and cover with cold water; the water level should be about an inch above the eggs. Add one teaspoon of baking soda to the water, which will help make your eggs easier to peel. Bring to boiling over high heat - crank that flame up!
Once boiling, reduce the heat immediately so that the water is just barely simmering. Cover the saucepan and set the timer for 15 minutes. Let them cook undisturbed.
When 15 minutes is up, run cold water over the eggs. You're done the hard-boiling part.
To be-devil the eggs-
6 hard-cooked eggs
1/4 cup mayonnaise
1 tp prepared mustard
1 tsp vinegar
Halve hard-cooked eggs lengthwise and remove the yolks gently.
Place yolks in a bowl and mash with a fork. Add mayo, mustard, and vinegar; mix well. If desired, season with salt and pepper. Stuff egg-white halves with yolk mixture. If desired, sprinkle with paprika.
Saturday, December 5, 2009
C is for Cookie
Holiday baking starts today. In an obvious attempt to ruin my life and my happiness my doc has put me on a gluten-free trial. It's not going all that well (I'm a SMIDGE cranky), and for darn sure I'm not going to inflict this on anyone else. In fairness, though, quinoa pasta is actually pretty good. And my lifeline, since this Italian girl ain't no way giving up pasta.
So this year's baking (being given away, with some held out for Sweetie) is decadent. Dark chocolate, intense vanilla, creamy fillings, the works. Cookies are not health food.
These are seriously rich; I can't eat more than one or two (honest) at a time. As crisp, flat cookies they don't ship well (too fragile), so it's best to keep them at home. And easily accessible.
Brown Sugar Ginger Crisps
November, 1989 (Bon Apetit or Gourmet, can't tell from the ripped-out magazine page in my recipe binder)
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
3/4 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
2 sticks (1 cup) unsalted butter, softened
1 cup packed light brown sugar
1 large egg yolk
1 tsp anilla
1/2 cup finely chopped crystallized ginger (3 oz)
1/4 tsp ground ginger
Perheat oven to 350 degrees.
Sift together flour, bakng powder, and salt. Beat together butter and brown sugar in a large bowl until pale and fluffy, about 3 minutes.
Beat in yolk, vanilla, and gingers.
Add flour mixture and mx at low speed until just combined.
Drop heaping teaspoons of dough about 3 inches apart onto ungreased baking sheets and bake in batches in middle of oven until golden, 13 o 15 minutes. Coool cookies on shets on racks 5 minutes, then transfer with a metal spatula to racks to cool completely.
So this year's baking (being given away, with some held out for Sweetie) is decadent. Dark chocolate, intense vanilla, creamy fillings, the works. Cookies are not health food.
These are seriously rich; I can't eat more than one or two (honest) at a time. As crisp, flat cookies they don't ship well (too fragile), so it's best to keep them at home. And easily accessible.
Brown Sugar Ginger Crisps
November, 1989 (Bon Apetit or Gourmet, can't tell from the ripped-out magazine page in my recipe binder)
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
3/4 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
2 sticks (1 cup) unsalted butter, softened
1 cup packed light brown sugar
1 large egg yolk
1 tsp anilla
1/2 cup finely chopped crystallized ginger (3 oz)
1/4 tsp ground ginger
Perheat oven to 350 degrees.
Sift together flour, bakng powder, and salt. Beat together butter and brown sugar in a large bowl until pale and fluffy, about 3 minutes.
Beat in yolk, vanilla, and gingers.
Add flour mixture and mx at low speed until just combined.
Drop heaping teaspoons of dough about 3 inches apart onto ungreased baking sheets and bake in batches in middle of oven until golden, 13 o 15 minutes. Coool cookies on shets on racks 5 minutes, then transfer with a metal spatula to racks to cool completely.
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Waiting Until The Last Minute
'Tis Thanksgiving. And I'm in danger of losing my foodie cred because I'm not racing around with a turkey baster in one hand and the second of 8 sticks of butter in the other.
A variety of issues and events are keeping me out of the kitchen this year. I'm not entirely happy about it, but as long as Sweetie and I are healthy and together for the holiday, the rest is just details.
If you're looking for a spot of color among the table to break up the tan turkey and white potatoes and creamy green bean casserole, this is terrific. It's even healthy, and it can be thrown together at the last minute (which this is).
Cranberry Applesauce
Serves 4
Four peeled, cored, chopped apples - good saucing apples include Fuji, Golden Delicious,
1/4 cup of fresh or frozen cranberries
3/4 cup of water or apple juice (about a small juice box)
1/4 cup of sugar - start with 2 tablespoons, and add more if necessary. Alternative sweeteners (agave, Equal, etc.) can be used instead, just sweeten to taste.
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
Combine all ingredients in a saucepan. Cover and cook over medium heat 15 - 20 minutes, or until apples are soft and cranberries have released juice. Allow to cool - during cooling, taste to check sweetness and add sugar (by the tablespoon) if necessary.
When cool, puree with in a blender or with a stick/immersion blender. For chunky sauce, simply mash with a fork.
This recipe can be easily doubled or tripled if you're hosting a large crowd.
A variety of issues and events are keeping me out of the kitchen this year. I'm not entirely happy about it, but as long as Sweetie and I are healthy and together for the holiday, the rest is just details.
If you're looking for a spot of color among the table to break up the tan turkey and white potatoes and creamy green bean casserole, this is terrific. It's even healthy, and it can be thrown together at the last minute (which this is).
Cranberry Applesauce
Serves 4
Four peeled, cored, chopped apples - good saucing apples include Fuji, Golden Delicious,
1/4 cup of fresh or frozen cranberries
3/4 cup of water or apple juice (about a small juice box)
1/4 cup of sugar - start with 2 tablespoons, and add more if necessary. Alternative sweeteners (agave, Equal, etc.) can be used instead, just sweeten to taste.
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
Combine all ingredients in a saucepan. Cover and cook over medium heat 15 - 20 minutes, or until apples are soft and cranberries have released juice. Allow to cool - during cooling, taste to check sweetness and add sugar (by the tablespoon) if necessary.
When cool, puree with in a blender or with a stick/immersion blender. For chunky sauce, simply mash with a fork.
This recipe can be easily doubled or tripled if you're hosting a large crowd.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
The Big Reveal!
Remember the Goodwill projects? Here they are in their sorry "before" condition.
THE VASES - $1.50 each, photographed here in the designated "spray paint area" of the yard. And the $3 chair. Is there any finer indication of quality craftsmanship than duct tape?
THE VASES - $1.50 each, photographed here in the designated "spray paint area" of the yard. And the $3 chair. Is there any finer indication of quality craftsmanship than duct tape?
AFTER
Because spray paint is magic, the vases all match. Because Michael's prints 40% off coupons, there is fallish stuff in the vases. The black & white photo on the wall is one I did years ago, and the bronze baby booties were my grandfather's.
The desk chair... oy! I wouldn't touch the original seat with bare hands. I gloved-up and got rid of the duct tape, original hardware, and that god-awful seat. After cleaning up the frame (Method wood cleaner is amazing stuff), I gave it a few good coats with Krylon spray paint in Khaki. Then I picked up a fabric remnant and some batting and went nutty with the staple gun for the seat. The photo above is in our dining room, and not the guest room where it will live. We were having dinner guests and needed the extra chair.
I'm not 100% sold on the seat fabric - I'm still debating about the accent colors in the guest room, so it may change. Next up I think I'm going to paint the guest room bookcase from its current black to the same Khaki to match. It'll be the third color in 18 years for that bookcase, what a trooper!
Sunday, November 8, 2009
A Little Different Tailgate
I'm making this up, of course. I've never been to a tailgate in my life, mostly because neither my childhood gymnastic meets nor my oldest niece's soccer games seem to have tailgating parties attached.
But beer and football go together, from what I understand. Much like beer and baseball - I've never cared for beer (and me in a sorority, back in the day!). Yet whenever I go to a Braves game, beer it is.
A little late for Oktoberfest, but this Lemon-Lager Chicken recipe was just wonderful. My beloved Trader Joe's has non-beer people like me covered by selling single bottles for $1 - $2. I mean, we like the recipe but we don't six-pack-in-the-fridge-for-months like it, you know? I made this last weekend when I was a Tasmanian Devil of a house project - recovering chairs, moving around the decor, you name it. Fortunately this is EASY - dump the marinade ingredients in a ziploc or glass dish with a cover, give it a little time with the chicken, and cook. Done.
If you don't have grilling weather just pop these under the broiler. We sauteed broccolini and garlic as a side dish, which was terrific. Some roasted butternut squash or sweet potatoes would be a good choice, too. The leftovers were great tossed in a spinach salad.
Lemon-Larger Chicken
Cooking Light, 2005
1 cup lager (such as Budweiser)
1/4 cup fresh lemon juice (pricey - I used bottled)
3 TBSP soy sauce
1 1/2 TBSP olive oil
1 tsp chopped fresh thyme
2 tsp chopped fresh oregano
1 tsp freshly ground black pepper (seriously? Who measures freshly ground pepper? Four or five twists of the pepper grinder - close enough)
2 tsp honey
1/4 tsp Worcestershire sauce (2 shakes if you don't want to dirty the measuring spoon)
3 garlic cloves, minced
4 6-ounce boneless skinless breast halves
Combine all ingredients except chicken in a large (1 gallon) ziploc bag, or glass/ceramic dish with a cover. Blend. Add chicken. Marinate in the refrigerator for at least 3 hours.
Remove chicken from bag and discard marinade. Grill or broil, approximately 5 minutes per side.
But beer and football go together, from what I understand. Much like beer and baseball - I've never cared for beer (and me in a sorority, back in the day!). Yet whenever I go to a Braves game, beer it is.
A little late for Oktoberfest, but this Lemon-Lager Chicken recipe was just wonderful. My beloved Trader Joe's has non-beer people like me covered by selling single bottles for $1 - $2. I mean, we like the recipe but we don't six-pack-in-the-fridge-for-months like it, you know? I made this last weekend when I was a Tasmanian Devil of a house project - recovering chairs, moving around the decor, you name it. Fortunately this is EASY - dump the marinade ingredients in a ziploc or glass dish with a cover, give it a little time with the chicken, and cook. Done.
If you don't have grilling weather just pop these under the broiler. We sauteed broccolini and garlic as a side dish, which was terrific. Some roasted butternut squash or sweet potatoes would be a good choice, too. The leftovers were great tossed in a spinach salad.
Lemon-Larger Chicken
Cooking Light, 2005
1 cup lager (such as Budweiser)
1/4 cup fresh lemon juice (pricey - I used bottled)
3 TBSP soy sauce
1 1/2 TBSP olive oil
1 tsp chopped fresh thyme
2 tsp chopped fresh oregano
1 tsp freshly ground black pepper (seriously? Who measures freshly ground pepper? Four or five twists of the pepper grinder - close enough)
2 tsp honey
1/4 tsp Worcestershire sauce (2 shakes if you don't want to dirty the measuring spoon)
3 garlic cloves, minced
4 6-ounce boneless skinless breast halves
Combine all ingredients except chicken in a large (1 gallon) ziploc bag, or glass/ceramic dish with a cover. Blend. Add chicken. Marinate in the refrigerator for at least 3 hours.
Remove chicken from bag and discard marinade. Grill or broil, approximately 5 minutes per side.
Friday, November 6, 2009
What's In Store
What does "November" mean? For starters, it means that the Christmas displays in the stores are looking tired and dusty after being up for the past 3 months.
For another, people start to reminisce about the year that isn't finished yet. Something about a crispness in the air makes people nostalgic for two weeks ago.
And of course, the predictions for 2010 start rolling in. Eater.com - and I love the name of that site and can't believe I just found it - has released their foodie predictions for 2010.
"More creative snacky things" - YAY! I adore snacky things! 2010 sounds fantabulous already. [settles happily into sofa]
"Sharing is the key" - yeah, Sweetie. Slide a li'l of the cheesey dip and other snacky-treats right here. That's the ticket.
"People are looking for edibles they can trust" - um, is this new? Not in this house, it isn't.
"Fried chicken is the new pork belly" - the hell? Will people trade in fried chicken futures on the stock market (or whatever)?
Oh, good heavens - I just read the description under this little factoid and it used the words "undercooked pork fat." Let's go back to "creative snacky things", shall we?
"Putting in good additives instead of taking out nasty ones" - new healthy benefits to cocktails? You have my attention.
Buzzwords for 2010: Neapolitan pizza (oooohhh, yes!). Lamb riblets (are they small lamb ribs? Small lambs?). Made-to-order ice cream (they already sell "dark chocolate with more chocolate," don't they?). Backyard and rooftop beehives (intentionally? Are the bees plotting against us?). Chefs turned butchers (if you really want a big sharp knife in your hand, best to direct that energy toward being a butcher).
Hmmm.... made-to-order ice cream....
For another, people start to reminisce about the year that isn't finished yet. Something about a crispness in the air makes people nostalgic for two weeks ago.
And of course, the predictions for 2010 start rolling in. Eater.com - and I love the name of that site and can't believe I just found it - has released their foodie predictions for 2010.
"More creative snacky things" - YAY! I adore snacky things! 2010 sounds fantabulous already. [settles happily into sofa]
"Sharing is the key" - yeah, Sweetie. Slide a li'l of the cheesey dip and other snacky-treats right here. That's the ticket.
"People are looking for edibles they can trust" - um, is this new? Not in this house, it isn't.
"Fried chicken is the new pork belly" - the hell? Will people trade in fried chicken futures on the stock market (or whatever)?
Oh, good heavens - I just read the description under this little factoid and it used the words "undercooked pork fat." Let's go back to "creative snacky things", shall we?
"Putting in good additives instead of taking out nasty ones" - new healthy benefits to cocktails? You have my attention.
Buzzwords for 2010: Neapolitan pizza (oooohhh, yes!). Lamb riblets (are they small lamb ribs? Small lambs?). Made-to-order ice cream (they already sell "dark chocolate with more chocolate," don't they?). Backyard and rooftop beehives (intentionally? Are the bees plotting against us?). Chefs turned butchers (if you really want a big sharp knife in your hand, best to direct that energy toward being a butcher).
Hmmm.... made-to-order ice cream....
Friday, October 30, 2009
Urban Fairy Tale
Nothing makes you feel older than seeing the incoming rain and immediately thinking about its effects on your arthritis. I nearly checked myself in at the Sunrise Assisted Living Center up the street after work. Mmmm, pudding...
And then I started to wonder, will I be able to do crafts when I'm really living in one of those places? Crafts seem to be big there. And I can't do them now.
Since my doctor's office is too swine flu'ed up to work me in (and I don't much care to bring my otherwise-healthy self into a lobby-sized petri dish of flu germs, anyway) I turned to the Knower of All (Google) to see how I could help myself out. The anti-inflammatory diet helps (even more so when I stay on it), the yoga and swimming help, but it's time for a new arrow in the quiver.
Know what the first piece of specialized equipment to pop up was? I shit you not, it was a gun with a palm trigger instead of a regular, finger-pulled trigger.
Yup. Think on that for a minute.
So now I'm imagining some sort of terrifyingly simple and deadly Fisher Price-like contraption with a little button that says "shoot" or "fire" or whatever. I don't have issues with mature, responsible gun ownership. But if you're unsteady with the hands, I've got to wonder why why WHY you'd be shooting a gun, and who thinks that's a market that really needs to be tapped.
I mean, I wanted something along the lines of scissors and paintbrushes and a way to get the !@#$!ing gas cap off without pliers. But I guess "everyday activity" means different things to different people.
And the corollary to this, of course, is that I work with the disability community and I know people who do the most amazing things despite significant physical barriers. And I'm all "WAAAAAH, my hands are crampy!" They really are. OY, the rain!
Like today, for instance. A woman at the train station, in a wheelchair, was having a rough time of it - including her shoe falling off. Her upper body movements were not easily controlled, and she was going to need some help.
So I walked over and asked if she'd like a hand. Even with the hat and the new haircut and the scarf, I knew that smile. "K____? Is that you?" I asked. She said yes and we had a few minutes to chat.
Then I put her shoe back on her foot and we both left to start our weekends.
So even in the heart of downtown at rush hour, it's possible to play Cinderella and recover a lost shoe. These crappy hands are good for something after all.
And then I started to wonder, will I be able to do crafts when I'm really living in one of those places? Crafts seem to be big there. And I can't do them now.
Since my doctor's office is too swine flu'ed up to work me in (and I don't much care to bring my otherwise-healthy self into a lobby-sized petri dish of flu germs, anyway) I turned to the Knower of All (Google) to see how I could help myself out. The anti-inflammatory diet helps (even more so when I stay on it), the yoga and swimming help, but it's time for a new arrow in the quiver.
Know what the first piece of specialized equipment to pop up was? I shit you not, it was a gun with a palm trigger instead of a regular, finger-pulled trigger.
Yup. Think on that for a minute.
So now I'm imagining some sort of terrifyingly simple and deadly Fisher Price-like contraption with a little button that says "shoot" or "fire" or whatever. I don't have issues with mature, responsible gun ownership. But if you're unsteady with the hands, I've got to wonder why why WHY you'd be shooting a gun, and who thinks that's a market that really needs to be tapped.
I mean, I wanted something along the lines of scissors and paintbrushes and a way to get the !@#$!ing gas cap off without pliers. But I guess "everyday activity" means different things to different people.
And the corollary to this, of course, is that I work with the disability community and I know people who do the most amazing things despite significant physical barriers. And I'm all "WAAAAAH, my hands are crampy!" They really are. OY, the rain!
Like today, for instance. A woman at the train station, in a wheelchair, was having a rough time of it - including her shoe falling off. Her upper body movements were not easily controlled, and she was going to need some help.
So I walked over and asked if she'd like a hand. Even with the hat and the new haircut and the scarf, I knew that smile. "K____? Is that you?" I asked. She said yes and we had a few minutes to chat.
Then I put her shoe back on her foot and we both left to start our weekends.
So even in the heart of downtown at rush hour, it's possible to play Cinderella and recover a lost shoe. These crappy hands are good for something after all.
Monday, October 26, 2009
The $25 Oatmeal Cooker
Giving in to peer pressure usually ends badly for me. And by "badly" I mean it involves painful and expensive (but trendy!) footwear, a hair color not found in nature (at least not outside the exotic bird kingdom), an insufferable concert or a wildly creative explanation/apology.
And so it goes again, if with a little less drama since I'm Old Enough To Know Better.
"I couldn't live without mine," they said. And "Don't know what I'd do without one." And "Really? You don't have one? And you said you.... cook?"
So I bought a slow cooker, formerly known as a crock pot (Crockpot?). For years I resisted - it seemed like such a throwback, such a Grandma thing to have, such an Add-A-Can-Of-Campbells'-Cream-of-Anything. My friend Black Sabbath Kevin (not either of the other Kevins) once said, "My Mom said I should get one of those. For what? I can turn it on in the morning and, when I come home from work, the water is boiling?" Exactly.
But there are cool and sassy-looking slow cooker recipes these days, and even the crockery looks better and less Community College Art Class. More expensive models have high-tech looking settings besides "plugged in" and "not."
But alas... almost everything I've made has tasted like watered-down crap (which, I guess, is better than full strength). The most recent disaster was Tortilla Soup. I had thought that maybe, maybe, MAYBE a recipe with a processed sauce would help. Possibly that was putting too much of a burden on ten ounces of enchilada sauce, I don't know.
Sweetie reduced the soup some to concentrate the flavor, and I'm going to make sweet potatoes, halve them lengthwise, and top them with the fetched-with-a-slotted-spoon soup solids - black beans, corn, shredded chicken, and diced tomatoes WHICH SHOULD HAVE MADE A VERY TASTY SOUP. So at least it's salvageable, possibly even better news for my ego than my pitiful food budget.
I'll give it this, though, the slow cooker makes terrific, creamy steel-cut oats. So easy, so inexpensive, and one batch lasts for several days. Steel cut oats look a little gravelly when raw, but cook down beautifully - and as a whole grain, they are tremendously healthful. Even more so since there's no sugar added to this recipe. The original recipe called for 1 full cup of dried fruit, which would be way too sweet for me.
Let's get interactive, Stinkycheesers. The slow cooker and I are at a non-breakfast impasse at the moment, but perhaps we can find some common ground. What do you make in your slow cooker that you LOVE? What tricks and tips can you offer? Does it maybe sense my reluctance to commit? In the name of Suze Orman, please tell me there's something else I can do with this contraption besides make a wonderful breakfast!
SLOW COOKER STEEL CUT OATS
It doesn't get easier than this, y'all.
1 Cup of steel cut oats (most inexpensively purchased out of a bulk bin at a healthfood store or even Whole Foods)
4 cups water (or one quart of unsweetened vanilla almond milk - I tried it in this week's batch and it's really good, although I'd never drink almond milk)
1 cup (or less) dried fruit
Combine all in slow cooker. Cook on low for 4 hours. Serve or keep in refrigerator.
Some good combinations -
Dried apples, cinnamon, and top with walnuts before serving
Dried blueberries and/or chopped dried apricots, ginger
Dried cherries and/or dried blueberries, and top with almonds before serving
I have my doubts about using dried mango or pineapple - if you use either, consider going down to 1/3 cup since they're both high-sugar.
Stay tuned - my domestic endeavor that's going better than slowcooking is refinishing. Two projects in progress - a $3 Goodwill chair, and these $ Goodwill vases. The "before" shots below, taken outside in our Spray Painting Field.
Monday, October 12, 2009
Tat, as I mentioned, does not consider herself to be domestic.
Know what? I'm not, either. Outside the kitchen I take a museum approach to the domestic arts, both visual (decorating) and performing (!#$!@ing ironing!). And by museum approach, I mean I look and appreciate others' advanced skills but don't actually participate.
Not that I haven't tried. And in a remedial way I can pull some of it off - assuming, of course, that getting paint color right on the fourth or fifth try counts as "pulling it off." In fact, it really was a museum approach when it came to painting our living room. We were at a party at the home of an interior designer, agreed that we loved her paint, and asked her for the details. Done.
After that I'm a little lost. We visited another friend recently who did AMAZING things with her new house. It's bold and creative and it all works perfectly together. I'm envious of people who can look at an empty space and immediately know that it needs columns, a vintage telephone, and a big-ass bird cage.
For some reason I'm nesting in a huge way and I'm tearing this house up with an orbital sander, drill, screwdriver, and multiple cans of spray paint. Things are definitely looking different and - hopefully - better. Heaven knows I'm trying.
So I've been thinking about gifts lately; the talents we're given with the intent to share. Cooking is one of my gifts. On occasion it is truly shared as a gift, as when I made six or seven sour cream poundcakes for my poundcake-loving friend's 40th birthday party. He recently married a wonderful girl who is blessed with an artistic eye, excellent taste, and the ability to make a house a home.
Chef Nancy once said, when I invited her over for lunch, that she rarely gets invited to anyone's home for a meal because people are intimidated by the idea of cooking for someone who cooks professionally. "How surprising!" I said as I ladled soup and sliced cornbread.
Know what? I'm terrified to have my friend and his wife over, even though she has become a good friend, too. They like us just fine, friend has certainly seen our home at its low points, and my lack of window treatments (how do people DO that???) will not change her opinion of us one iota. I need to get over it. Just as soon as I do something about these windows... and the garage sale coffee table... and....
Sour Cream Poundcake
This is a classic poundcake. It's wonderful served with fresh fruit and/or fruit syrup... or on its own.
1/2 cup butter
3 eggs
1/2 cup dairy sour cream
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1/4 teaspoon baking powder
1/8 teaspoon baking soda
1 cup sugar
1/2 teaspoon vanilla
1. Allow butter, eggs, and sour cream to stand at room temperature 30 minutes. Really. Have I yet made you jump through hoops? No. This is an important part of good poundcake prep.
2. Grease and lightly flour an 8x4/x-inch or 9x5x3inch loaf pan; set aside. FYI, keeping an old-fashioned powder puff in the flour canister makes this a breeze.
3. Combine flour, baking powder, and baking soda. Set aside.
4. In a mixing bowl beat butter with an electric mixer on medium to high speed for 30 seconds. Gradually add sugar, beating about 10 minutes or until very light and fluffy. Beat in vanilla. Add eggs, one at a time, beating 1 minute after each addition and scraping bowl frequently.
5. Add dry mixture and sour cream alternately to beaten mixture, beating on low to medium speed after each addition, just until combined. Over-mixing will lead to a less tender poundcake. Pour batter into prepared pan.
6. Bake in a 325-degree oven for 60 to 75 minutes, or until a wooden toothpick comes out clean.
Know what? I'm not, either. Outside the kitchen I take a museum approach to the domestic arts, both visual (decorating) and performing (!#$!@ing ironing!). And by museum approach, I mean I look and appreciate others' advanced skills but don't actually participate.
Not that I haven't tried. And in a remedial way I can pull some of it off - assuming, of course, that getting paint color right on the fourth or fifth try counts as "pulling it off." In fact, it really was a museum approach when it came to painting our living room. We were at a party at the home of an interior designer, agreed that we loved her paint, and asked her for the details. Done.
After that I'm a little lost. We visited another friend recently who did AMAZING things with her new house. It's bold and creative and it all works perfectly together. I'm envious of people who can look at an empty space and immediately know that it needs columns, a vintage telephone, and a big-ass bird cage.
For some reason I'm nesting in a huge way and I'm tearing this house up with an orbital sander, drill, screwdriver, and multiple cans of spray paint. Things are definitely looking different and - hopefully - better. Heaven knows I'm trying.
So I've been thinking about gifts lately; the talents we're given with the intent to share. Cooking is one of my gifts. On occasion it is truly shared as a gift, as when I made six or seven sour cream poundcakes for my poundcake-loving friend's 40th birthday party. He recently married a wonderful girl who is blessed with an artistic eye, excellent taste, and the ability to make a house a home.
Chef Nancy once said, when I invited her over for lunch, that she rarely gets invited to anyone's home for a meal because people are intimidated by the idea of cooking for someone who cooks professionally. "How surprising!" I said as I ladled soup and sliced cornbread.
Know what? I'm terrified to have my friend and his wife over, even though she has become a good friend, too. They like us just fine, friend has certainly seen our home at its low points, and my lack of window treatments (how do people DO that???) will not change her opinion of us one iota. I need to get over it. Just as soon as I do something about these windows... and the garage sale coffee table... and....
Sour Cream Poundcake
This is a classic poundcake. It's wonderful served with fresh fruit and/or fruit syrup... or on its own.
1/2 cup butter
3 eggs
1/2 cup dairy sour cream
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1/4 teaspoon baking powder
1/8 teaspoon baking soda
1 cup sugar
1/2 teaspoon vanilla
1. Allow butter, eggs, and sour cream to stand at room temperature 30 minutes. Really. Have I yet made you jump through hoops? No. This is an important part of good poundcake prep.
2. Grease and lightly flour an 8x4/x-inch or 9x5x3inch loaf pan; set aside. FYI, keeping an old-fashioned powder puff in the flour canister makes this a breeze.
3. Combine flour, baking powder, and baking soda. Set aside.
4. In a mixing bowl beat butter with an electric mixer on medium to high speed for 30 seconds. Gradually add sugar, beating about 10 minutes or until very light and fluffy. Beat in vanilla. Add eggs, one at a time, beating 1 minute after each addition and scraping bowl frequently.
5. Add dry mixture and sour cream alternately to beaten mixture, beating on low to medium speed after each addition, just until combined. Over-mixing will lead to a less tender poundcake. Pour batter into prepared pan.
6. Bake in a 325-degree oven for 60 to 75 minutes, or until a wooden toothpick comes out clean.
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