I have stopped eating sugar, for two months. And it is not nearly as difficult as I previously anticipated.
I've done this before. But only for one month. I woke up one day, realized I was eating dessert twice a day, every day, and me and three friends stopped with sugar. We looked at the processed sugar in our diets and said, "enough, Sugar, enough. For far too long you have controlled our digestive systems, our general energy, our metabolisms and our mood swings. We leave you to the business of destroying the lives of others!'
Well, we didn't quite say that. I'm in a dramatic mood this morning. But something similar definitely went down.
Anyway, this time, it was sort of the same story. I've been eating cupcakes. A lot of cupcakes. I love them! That's my justification. They're cute. They have the perfect frosting to cake ratio. They remind me of Valentine's Day, because unlike so many couples in the world today, they are a perfect match. Made in heaven, some might say. Think about the versatility of the cupcake... Alright, I'm done.
So this time, when I stopped sugar (exactly eight days ago), I expected the same process as last time. Before, I craved sugar so badly I could hardly go on. And let's be honest here, I ate a plethora of fruit, which is still sugar. And the cravings were terrible. By the time I got to the end of the four weeks, 12 pounds lighter, much more energetic, and all around healthier, I tried to slowly reintroduce sugar to my diet. In two weeks, I was back to exactly the same place I had been before. Apparently, what I'm doing now should help me quit sugar for good. You know, I was thinking about how I want to be a baker. Specifically wedding cakes, but I'd really like to sell people other delicious baked goods as well. Which is kind of the same thing as saying I want to make people sick. I'm still trying to reconcile that.
In the mean time, I've just been baking and eating a lot of biscuits. The good news is, I've finally got down a recipe I like. It turns out magnificent every time. I have taken to baking them for friends instead of various cakes and cookies. They are always light and flaky, buttery, and they bake up with a golden, crisp top that glistens with butter. With bread flour, they're a little more substantial, better to sink your teeth in to. With all-purpose flour, they're lighter, fluffier. Both yield an unbelievably flaky biscuit, provided you don't over-work them. There is no bad news about biscuits.
Here is the recipe, just for you.
Bacon, Leek, Parmesan Biscuits
Makes 10-12
Preheat oven to 450º
2 cups AP or bread flour (depending on what texture you want. I like bread flour better.)
1 tablespoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup unsalted butter
3 pieces bacon, chopped, cooked until lightly crisp
1 leek, thinly sliced, light green and white parts only
1/4 cup grated parmesan cheese
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
3/4 cup buttermilk
Into a large bowl, sift together the flour, baking powder and salt. Whisk lightly. Cut the cold, cold butter into small cubes, toss in to the flour to coat. Using your fingers, rub the butter into the flour mixture until the pieces are roughly the size of small peas and the mixture is thoroughly combined. At this point, add the bacon, leeks, cheese and pepper. Mix, with your hands, until combined. Add the buttermilk and mix with your hands or a wooden spoon until a wet dough forms. On a counter lightly sprinkled with flour, turn out the dough. Sprinkle it with flour, lightly knead it a few times. This should take no longer than 30 seconds and 4 turns. Pat the dough out to a little less than half an inch. Using a cup or biscuit cutter, cut out the biscuits. Listen carefully: if you want your biscuits to rise, never, EVER, twist the cup on the way down. You'll seal the edges, all around, like a seam. Your biscuits will not turn out light and flaky if you do this. So don't. Now, carry on. Place the biscuits on a lightly floured sheet pan, close together, and bake for about 12 minutes. When the biscuits are flaky and buttery, with a light golden top, they're done. Eat them at room temperature. They require no additional topping, but are good dipped in a little honey.
Monday, August 6, 2012
Friday, August 3, 2012
Absurd Questions
Have you ever toasted a pretzel? Well, have you?
I know what you're probably thinking. "Toasted a PRETZEL? What an absurd question. Who in their right mind puts a pretzel in a toaster?!"
Luckily, a toaster is not always required for toasting. Sometimes, a 350º oven will suffice. And in this case, it does suffice. It does.
Toasted pretzels are simply one of my favorite things. They are warm, but not in a sense of heat. The flavor, itself, is warm. And delicious. Somehow malty, sweet. And, they're simple to make. The simpler, the better, in my honest opinion. Now, I do not speak of making your own pretzels, meticulously folding the little beasts into those shapes (who has time for THAT?! Not me...). I speak of this:
Toasted Pretzels
Makes approximately 4 servings
4 cups small pretzels
1/2 cup salted butter
4 teaspoons cajun seasoning
2 teaspoon garlic powder
In a bowl, melt the butter. Toss the pretzels with the melted butter until coated. Sprinkle over the cajun seasoning and garlic powder. Spread into a single layer on a sheet pan. Bake at 350º Farenheit for approximately 7 minutes, until the pretzels are slightly darker than they were before, and the aroma is starting to leech out of them and into the air which you now realize you wish always smelled this way.
Serve the beauties warm, or at room temperature. These are my favorite quick snack. I have to resist burning my mouth and fingers to smithereens by inhaling them while they're still blistering hot. They really are much better when real, old-fashioned anticipation has set in, and you can stand to keep them in your mouth long enough to, you know, chew.
In other news, I have been thinking about this blog (I hate that word, I hate that word, I hate that word) and the improvements that it needs. I was recently reading a book about food reading, and basically discovered that if I ever want to go anywhere with food writing, I should name my blog something that people can actually remember and then go on to type correctly. I also should actually edit my writing (something I don't do), and take pictures of food. Finally, I should begin a sequential project of sorts to keep from the cliche of "what I had for dinner last night", which, let's be honest, is the majority of what I've written about in the past. Anyway, that's all the excitement I have for today.
Make these pretzels, and be happy.
I know what you're probably thinking. "Toasted a PRETZEL? What an absurd question. Who in their right mind puts a pretzel in a toaster?!"
Luckily, a toaster is not always required for toasting. Sometimes, a 350º oven will suffice. And in this case, it does suffice. It does.
Toasted pretzels are simply one of my favorite things. They are warm, but not in a sense of heat. The flavor, itself, is warm. And delicious. Somehow malty, sweet. And, they're simple to make. The simpler, the better, in my honest opinion. Now, I do not speak of making your own pretzels, meticulously folding the little beasts into those shapes (who has time for THAT?! Not me...). I speak of this:
Toasted Pretzels
Makes approximately 4 servings
4 cups small pretzels
1/2 cup salted butter
4 teaspoons cajun seasoning
2 teaspoon garlic powder
In a bowl, melt the butter. Toss the pretzels with the melted butter until coated. Sprinkle over the cajun seasoning and garlic powder. Spread into a single layer on a sheet pan. Bake at 350º Farenheit for approximately 7 minutes, until the pretzels are slightly darker than they were before, and the aroma is starting to leech out of them and into the air which you now realize you wish always smelled this way.
Serve the beauties warm, or at room temperature. These are my favorite quick snack. I have to resist burning my mouth and fingers to smithereens by inhaling them while they're still blistering hot. They really are much better when real, old-fashioned anticipation has set in, and you can stand to keep them in your mouth long enough to, you know, chew.
In other news, I have been thinking about this blog (I hate that word, I hate that word, I hate that word) and the improvements that it needs. I was recently reading a book about food reading, and basically discovered that if I ever want to go anywhere with food writing, I should name my blog something that people can actually remember and then go on to type correctly. I also should actually edit my writing (something I don't do), and take pictures of food. Finally, I should begin a sequential project of sorts to keep from the cliche of "what I had for dinner last night", which, let's be honest, is the majority of what I've written about in the past. Anyway, that's all the excitement I have for today.
Make these pretzels, and be happy.
Thursday, May 17, 2012
Strikingly alone
The feeling of loneliness is probably the feeling that I have felt most in my life, it is deeply ingrained into me. I feel that it was given to me as a child, like a blanket, placed on top of me, where it seeped into my pores and down, settling in my bones and joints where sometimes, when the weather is cold or the sky is cloudy, it causes them to ache before the rain. It's a striking feeling.
It does flair up, every so often, and I'm suddenly filled with this strange desire to be enveloped in a constant hug. I just want to go up to anyone, anytime, and just hug them, for a long time. Hugs are lovely, aren't they? It's been a little difficult for me lately, I have a whisper in my heart for love, and no one to hug. I know that I am in this time for a season of the soul. Drifting away from God has been slow, but I've noticed it, almost as if I've been watching from the outside, or above, or in a dim movie theatre with old chairs. I think of this verse (though I can't remember the location of it), "Today, when you hear his voice, do not harden your hearts." It makes me feel silly, to harden my heart, then, knowing that it is a willful choice and not the uncontrollable, ignorant process I'd like to think.
I've been asking myself lately, several times a day if I'm going to willingly continue the process, or if I will actually turn right around and find the love to fill my lonely heart. It seems odd to have to decide, like I should just choose the right answer immediately and not look back. It never happens that way, though.
Anyway, last night, I prayed, and I made dinner, and I thought. I had the house to myself, which is all the better for thinking in times of spiritual turmoil, besides. I like to cook only for myself, because then I can be really daring, since only I have to eat the result, and I'm not very picky. And it's good to be daring if you're lonely, it counteracts it a little. But the dinner I cooked last night, I would serve to friends. Maybe I would actually have more friends if I cooked for people and made dishes like this more often.
Here's the recipe, if you want it. Cook it when you feel alone, or when you're happy, or when you're with friends. If you have a heartbeat and are feeling any type of emotion whatsoever, eat this.
Shrimp with Brussels Sprouts
To serve one
8 large shrimp
1/4 of a large white onion
2 cloves garlic
1 tablespoon butter
1 teaspoon Cajun seasoning
1/2 teaspoon sea salt
9 brussels sprouts
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 teaspoon Sriracha
1/2 teaspoon balsamic vinegar
1 hard boiled egg
A few Feta cheese crumbles
Peel the shrimp and set them aside. Slice the onion very thinly while the butter melts and heats in a skillet over medium heat. When the onions are translucent, add the garlic. Cook for a minute or so, until the garlic is good and fragrant. Add the shrimp and toss them around a little. Add the cajun seasoning and salt and stir occasionally, cooking for about 4 minutes or until the shrimp are pink and a little curled up.
While the shrimp are cooking, cut the brussels sprouts in half and slice the halves very thinly. Remove the shrimp from the pan and set them aside. Cook the brussels sprouts in the oil, balsamic, and sriracha, for about 2 minutes, only until they are bright green and starting to smell a little sweet. Serve the shrimp on top of the brussels sprouts. Top with the boiled egg, very thinly sliced, and the feta cheese crumbles. If you want to, a drizzle of honey over the top would be a nice touch.
It does flair up, every so often, and I'm suddenly filled with this strange desire to be enveloped in a constant hug. I just want to go up to anyone, anytime, and just hug them, for a long time. Hugs are lovely, aren't they? It's been a little difficult for me lately, I have a whisper in my heart for love, and no one to hug. I know that I am in this time for a season of the soul. Drifting away from God has been slow, but I've noticed it, almost as if I've been watching from the outside, or above, or in a dim movie theatre with old chairs. I think of this verse (though I can't remember the location of it), "Today, when you hear his voice, do not harden your hearts." It makes me feel silly, to harden my heart, then, knowing that it is a willful choice and not the uncontrollable, ignorant process I'd like to think.
I've been asking myself lately, several times a day if I'm going to willingly continue the process, or if I will actually turn right around and find the love to fill my lonely heart. It seems odd to have to decide, like I should just choose the right answer immediately and not look back. It never happens that way, though.
Anyway, last night, I prayed, and I made dinner, and I thought. I had the house to myself, which is all the better for thinking in times of spiritual turmoil, besides. I like to cook only for myself, because then I can be really daring, since only I have to eat the result, and I'm not very picky. And it's good to be daring if you're lonely, it counteracts it a little. But the dinner I cooked last night, I would serve to friends. Maybe I would actually have more friends if I cooked for people and made dishes like this more often.
Here's the recipe, if you want it. Cook it when you feel alone, or when you're happy, or when you're with friends. If you have a heartbeat and are feeling any type of emotion whatsoever, eat this.
Shrimp with Brussels Sprouts
To serve one
8 large shrimp
1/4 of a large white onion
2 cloves garlic
1 tablespoon butter
1 teaspoon Cajun seasoning
1/2 teaspoon sea salt
9 brussels sprouts
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 teaspoon Sriracha
1/2 teaspoon balsamic vinegar
1 hard boiled egg
A few Feta cheese crumbles
Peel the shrimp and set them aside. Slice the onion very thinly while the butter melts and heats in a skillet over medium heat. When the onions are translucent, add the garlic. Cook for a minute or so, until the garlic is good and fragrant. Add the shrimp and toss them around a little. Add the cajun seasoning and salt and stir occasionally, cooking for about 4 minutes or until the shrimp are pink and a little curled up.
While the shrimp are cooking, cut the brussels sprouts in half and slice the halves very thinly. Remove the shrimp from the pan and set them aside. Cook the brussels sprouts in the oil, balsamic, and sriracha, for about 2 minutes, only until they are bright green and starting to smell a little sweet. Serve the shrimp on top of the brussels sprouts. Top with the boiled egg, very thinly sliced, and the feta cheese crumbles. If you want to, a drizzle of honey over the top would be a nice touch.
Thursday, May 10, 2012
I need more sunshine in my life, I need more love.
When I was younger, I used to think that I was a really good writer. That I myself was an open book, a book with a good vocabulary and a quirky sense of humor. In highschool, I dreamed of being a writer, and wrote heartfelt book reviews for my Intro To Fiction class. I once wrote an essay so stiking about Catcher In The Rye that my teacher gave me an A+++ and had me stand up in front of the class and read it aloud. She asked if she could get it published in the school magazine for me.
But now, sometimes when I write, my words come out in a jumble, or else they stick to my soul. I'm usually disappointed with the finished product. I think there's a clog somewhere in my heart, a stop up. I've decided this is because I need more sunshine in my life, I need more love.
I feel loved, don't get me wrong, but I think the problem, the flaw that presents itself, is that I don't love other people enough, or wholeheartedly enough. A simple indication of this is that I woke up this morning with an urge to go and bake up a storm of baked goods, give them to some homeless people, and then hug them all (the people, not the baked goods). On the wisdom scale of 1-10 (1 being the lowest) I think this rates no higher than a 3. I awoke this morning thinking about that.
I also woke up this morning listening to my heart beat, fluid and thick against my chest, and feeling my wisdom tooth, sore in my mouth, and thinking about that cake I ate last night. It was delicious. I thought about how my roommate and I ate it while watching The Office, and let out contented sighs, and licked our plates clean. Then I thought about the shrimp we ate beforehand, and how I need to remember the recipe, because I almost licked my plate after those, too.
Ginger Sriracha Shrimp
2 servings
12 large shrimp, deveined and peeled
1 clove of garlic, minced
1 tablespoon white onion, diced
2 teaspoons brown sugar
1 1/2 teaspoons dried ginger (or fresh and minced)
1/3 cup soy sauce
1 1/2 tablespoon olive oil
2 teaspoons sriracha
In a bowl, toss the shrimp with the garlic and onion. Add the brown sugar and ginger, toss to coat. Pour in the soy sauce, the olive oil and the sriracha. Toss once more. Let this mixture sit for about a half an hour, in the fridge.
In a small saute pan, heat about 1 tablespoon of olive oil, or just enough to coat the pan. When it's hot, cook the shrimp over medium heat, stirring frequently, about 3-4 minutes. Serve hot with rice, udon noodles, yakisoba, spinach salad, or any other thing. All you need to know is that these are delicious.
But now, sometimes when I write, my words come out in a jumble, or else they stick to my soul. I'm usually disappointed with the finished product. I think there's a clog somewhere in my heart, a stop up. I've decided this is because I need more sunshine in my life, I need more love.
I feel loved, don't get me wrong, but I think the problem, the flaw that presents itself, is that I don't love other people enough, or wholeheartedly enough. A simple indication of this is that I woke up this morning with an urge to go and bake up a storm of baked goods, give them to some homeless people, and then hug them all (the people, not the baked goods). On the wisdom scale of 1-10 (1 being the lowest) I think this rates no higher than a 3. I awoke this morning thinking about that.
I also woke up this morning listening to my heart beat, fluid and thick against my chest, and feeling my wisdom tooth, sore in my mouth, and thinking about that cake I ate last night. It was delicious. I thought about how my roommate and I ate it while watching The Office, and let out contented sighs, and licked our plates clean. Then I thought about the shrimp we ate beforehand, and how I need to remember the recipe, because I almost licked my plate after those, too.
Ginger Sriracha Shrimp
2 servings
12 large shrimp, deveined and peeled
1 clove of garlic, minced
1 tablespoon white onion, diced
2 teaspoons brown sugar
1 1/2 teaspoons dried ginger (or fresh and minced)
1/3 cup soy sauce
1 1/2 tablespoon olive oil
2 teaspoons sriracha
In a bowl, toss the shrimp with the garlic and onion. Add the brown sugar and ginger, toss to coat. Pour in the soy sauce, the olive oil and the sriracha. Toss once more. Let this mixture sit for about a half an hour, in the fridge.
In a small saute pan, heat about 1 tablespoon of olive oil, or just enough to coat the pan. When it's hot, cook the shrimp over medium heat, stirring frequently, about 3-4 minutes. Serve hot with rice, udon noodles, yakisoba, spinach salad, or any other thing. All you need to know is that these are delicious.
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
Enjoyable Tears
Recently, I have been reading Molly Wizenbergs book, A Homemade Life. She is a wonderful writer of stories and recipes. I could gush, for quite some time about her, but instead, I will go and make a chocolate cake, after only gushing about her for a little while.
Today, I read a chapter of her book called Winning Hearts and Minds, and it's about cake...sort of. I cried, read it again, and repeated the process about 10 times. By the time I showed up to work, my eyes were red rimmed, for sure. After work, I read it again. At the bus stop, I read it again. My eyes have been dry lately, which is more sad to me than having them be teary. When I cry, I don't cry hard, and so I am always refreshed by it. Today especially. These tears were the enjoyable sort.
Anyway, here's my favorite part of the chapter:
"The day after Brandon's first visit to Seattle, which now seems like pleasantly ancient history, I sent Kate an e-mail.
"He was amazing," I gushed. "So sweet. So funny. I drove him to the airport this morning and cried all the way home. I think this might be the best thing that's ever happened to me. And the hardest."
"I'm so excited for you," she gushed in reply. "You've been taking this on with your whole heart and that oversized mind of yours. Don't stop now. This is the bread and butter! This is what it's all about.""
(This is the part where I start tearing up, by the way.)
"I burst into tears when I read that. I've never forgotten it. When I was making our wedding cakes, all those hours at the oven, all that stirring and baking, I kept saying it. This is the bread and butter. This is what it's all about.
It's going to sound silly, I know, but I think that what it all comes down to is winning hearts and minds, underneath everything else, all the plans and goals and hopes, that's why we get up in the morning, why we believe, why we try, why we bake chocolate cakes. That's the best we can ever hope to do: to win hearts and minds, to love and be loved."
Beautiful, isn't it? Beautiful enough for sappy me to read 15 or so times. I'm making this cake tonight, to eat after a dinner of Udon noodle soup and shrimp with ginger sauce, and here is the recipe for it. I should make it before I share the recipe, but I know it's going to be amazing. Molly Wizenberg's recipes are always fail proof. I'll eat this cake, and listen to John Foreman, and possibly cry for no good reason, and be happy as I fall asleep, I know it.
The Winning Hearts and Minds Cake
OR
Fondant Au Chocolat (melting chocolate cake)
7 ounces bittersweet chocolate, chopped, or bittersweet chocolate chips
1 3/4 sticks (7 ounces) unsalted butter, cut into 1/2" cubes.
1 cup plus 2 tablespoons granulated sugar
5 large eggs
1 tablespoon unbleached all purpose flour
lightly sweetened whipped cream, for serving
Preheat the oven to 375ºF, and butter an 8" round cake pan. Line the botom of the pan with a round of parchment paper, and butter the paper, too.
Put the chocolate and butter in the microwave, and melt in 30 second intervals. Add the sugar, stirring to incorporate. Let the batter cool for 5 minutes. Add the eggs one by one, stirring well after each addition. Add the flour and stir to mix well. The batter should be dark and silky.
Pour the batter into the pan, and bake for 25 minutes, or until the top is lightly crackled, the edges are puffed, and the center of the cake looks set.
Remove from the oven, to a cooling rack, let it cool in the pan for 15 minutes. Turn it out of the pan and then flip it onto a serving plate by placing a sheet of foil over the pan, and placing a plate over that. Flip the cake onto the plate. Place the serving plate on top of the cake, gently. Wedge your index fingers between the plates to keep from squishing the cake, and flip the plates so the cake is now right side up. Remove the foil. Cool completely before serving.
Today, I read a chapter of her book called Winning Hearts and Minds, and it's about cake...sort of. I cried, read it again, and repeated the process about 10 times. By the time I showed up to work, my eyes were red rimmed, for sure. After work, I read it again. At the bus stop, I read it again. My eyes have been dry lately, which is more sad to me than having them be teary. When I cry, I don't cry hard, and so I am always refreshed by it. Today especially. These tears were the enjoyable sort.
Anyway, here's my favorite part of the chapter:
"The day after Brandon's first visit to Seattle, which now seems like pleasantly ancient history, I sent Kate an e-mail.
"He was amazing," I gushed. "So sweet. So funny. I drove him to the airport this morning and cried all the way home. I think this might be the best thing that's ever happened to me. And the hardest."
"I'm so excited for you," she gushed in reply. "You've been taking this on with your whole heart and that oversized mind of yours. Don't stop now. This is the bread and butter! This is what it's all about.""
(This is the part where I start tearing up, by the way.)
"I burst into tears when I read that. I've never forgotten it. When I was making our wedding cakes, all those hours at the oven, all that stirring and baking, I kept saying it. This is the bread and butter. This is what it's all about.
It's going to sound silly, I know, but I think that what it all comes down to is winning hearts and minds, underneath everything else, all the plans and goals and hopes, that's why we get up in the morning, why we believe, why we try, why we bake chocolate cakes. That's the best we can ever hope to do: to win hearts and minds, to love and be loved."
Beautiful, isn't it? Beautiful enough for sappy me to read 15 or so times. I'm making this cake tonight, to eat after a dinner of Udon noodle soup and shrimp with ginger sauce, and here is the recipe for it. I should make it before I share the recipe, but I know it's going to be amazing. Molly Wizenberg's recipes are always fail proof. I'll eat this cake, and listen to John Foreman, and possibly cry for no good reason, and be happy as I fall asleep, I know it.
The Winning Hearts and Minds Cake
OR
Fondant Au Chocolat (melting chocolate cake)
7 ounces bittersweet chocolate, chopped, or bittersweet chocolate chips
1 3/4 sticks (7 ounces) unsalted butter, cut into 1/2" cubes.
1 cup plus 2 tablespoons granulated sugar
5 large eggs
1 tablespoon unbleached all purpose flour
lightly sweetened whipped cream, for serving
Preheat the oven to 375ºF, and butter an 8" round cake pan. Line the botom of the pan with a round of parchment paper, and butter the paper, too.
Put the chocolate and butter in the microwave, and melt in 30 second intervals. Add the sugar, stirring to incorporate. Let the batter cool for 5 minutes. Add the eggs one by one, stirring well after each addition. Add the flour and stir to mix well. The batter should be dark and silky.
Pour the batter into the pan, and bake for 25 minutes, or until the top is lightly crackled, the edges are puffed, and the center of the cake looks set.
Remove from the oven, to a cooling rack, let it cool in the pan for 15 minutes. Turn it out of the pan and then flip it onto a serving plate by placing a sheet of foil over the pan, and placing a plate over that. Flip the cake onto the plate. Place the serving plate on top of the cake, gently. Wedge your index fingers between the plates to keep from squishing the cake, and flip the plates so the cake is now right side up. Remove the foil. Cool completely before serving.
Saturday, May 5, 2012
Cupcakes on the brain
The other day, I made some cupcakes.
Banana cupcakes with caramel buttercream, to be exact. And, they were heavenly. Heavenly. Anyway, it got me thinking (which is very dangerous), because I'd been reading the book Rich Dad, Poor Dad and though it is horribly written and very cheesy (two things I hate) it did remind me that since I can remember, I've wanted to start my own business.
So in this case, cupcakes+reading=dreams to start my own cupcake food cart.
Mhmm, girl, you heard right! The more I think about it (and I've been thinking about it a lot) the better and better it seems! (And see, I used two exclamation points in the span of two sentences, which I NEVER do...exclamation points are my least favorite punctuation mark...so you know I MEAN IT.)
Cupcakes have been on my brain. I can't stop it...I cannot stop it. First, banana cupcakes with caramel butter cream. Then, ginger bamboo cupcakes with cream cheese sriracha frosting. Next, you've got a lovely chocolate cupcake with blueberry frosting and strawberry cupcake with cinnamon sourcream frosting. Once I get started on something, it's hard for me to stop. Oh, I also had an idea (not yet fully formed) for some type of cupcake (maybe a yellow butter cupcake) with cream cheese frosting, and cheez-its somehow incorporated into that mix. I love cheez-its with vanilla ice cream. I know it's odd, but they're so salty and cheesy and delicious with that sweet, plain vanilla.
Anyway, I was at a Bible study not too long ago, and a lovely girl there prophesied over me, and with tears in her eyes, told me that, "You have so many dreams, and I think that God wants you to know it's ok to follow them! He placed them in your heart for a reason, and whichever direction you choose to go, you'll flourish." So, I feel like I just might pursue this path of cupcake-scented foodcart madness. If you could pray for me about that, that I would feel God's hand and be granted his wisdom (I am NOT a business woman by any stretch of the imagination) that would be so greatly appreciated. And now, after much ado about very little, here is a recipe (or two) for you to try on your own, and reach frosted pastry bliss.
Banana Cupcakes
Makes about 15
1 1/2 C sifted ap flour
1 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp baking powder
3/4 tsp salt
1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
3/4 stick salted butter
3/4 C packed brown sugar
1 egg and 2 egg yolks
2 very ripe, large bananas
1/2 c buttermilk
1/2 tsp pure vanilla extract
1/2 c chopped pecans (optional. I did not add them when I made these, and still they were gorgeous)
Preheat the oven to 350ºF.
Combine the flour, baking soda, baking powder, salt, and cinnamon.
Cream the butter and sugar together for about two minutes using an electric hand mixer on medium speed. Add the eggs, cream the mixture for 3 minutes more. Add the bananas and the buttermilk, and the vanilla. Beat until the bananas are mashed up. Add the dry ingredients, a little at a time, and beat until just incorporated. if you'd like, add the pecans.
Fill prepared cupcake pans 3/4 full, and bake for about 15 minutes, until the tops of the cakes spring back when pressed.
Caramel Buttercream Frosting
Makes enough for 15 cupcakes
1/2 c sugar
2 T water
2 T heavy cream
1 stick salted butter, softened
2 egg whites, room temp
1 tsp pure vanilla extract
Bring 1/4 cup of sugar and the water to a boil in a small pan. Wash sides of pan with a wet pastry brush to prevent sugar crystals. Cook, undisturbed, until caramel is a dark amber. Remove from heat, slowly add cream, stirring until smooth. Let cool.
Beat butter with a mixer on medium speed until pale and fluffy, usually 3 minutes (unless you have weird butter).
Place egg whites and 1/4 cup sugar in a heatproff bowl set over a pot of simmering water. Whisk until sugar dissolves and it registers 160º. Remove from heat, whisk for 5 minutes on medium speed. Increase speed to high, whisk for 6 minutes, until stiff, glossy peaks form. Reduce to medium, add the butter, whisk thouroughly, add vanilla. On low speed, add the caramel and beat until smooth, 3-5 minutes.
This frosting is to die for, and easier to make than it sounds. You'll end up wanting to frost everything with this. From cupcakes to cookies to toast. I ate about half of it out of the bowl (I am a little ashamed to admit that). Anyway, have a good day, and MAKE THESE CUPCAKES.
Banana cupcakes with caramel buttercream, to be exact. And, they were heavenly. Heavenly. Anyway, it got me thinking (which is very dangerous), because I'd been reading the book Rich Dad, Poor Dad and though it is horribly written and very cheesy (two things I hate) it did remind me that since I can remember, I've wanted to start my own business.
So in this case, cupcakes+reading=dreams to start my own cupcake food cart.
Mhmm, girl, you heard right! The more I think about it (and I've been thinking about it a lot) the better and better it seems! (And see, I used two exclamation points in the span of two sentences, which I NEVER do...exclamation points are my least favorite punctuation mark...so you know I MEAN IT.)
Cupcakes have been on my brain. I can't stop it...I cannot stop it. First, banana cupcakes with caramel butter cream. Then, ginger bamboo cupcakes with cream cheese sriracha frosting. Next, you've got a lovely chocolate cupcake with blueberry frosting and strawberry cupcake with cinnamon sourcream frosting. Once I get started on something, it's hard for me to stop. Oh, I also had an idea (not yet fully formed) for some type of cupcake (maybe a yellow butter cupcake) with cream cheese frosting, and cheez-its somehow incorporated into that mix. I love cheez-its with vanilla ice cream. I know it's odd, but they're so salty and cheesy and delicious with that sweet, plain vanilla.
Anyway, I was at a Bible study not too long ago, and a lovely girl there prophesied over me, and with tears in her eyes, told me that, "You have so many dreams, and I think that God wants you to know it's ok to follow them! He placed them in your heart for a reason, and whichever direction you choose to go, you'll flourish." So, I feel like I just might pursue this path of cupcake-scented foodcart madness. If you could pray for me about that, that I would feel God's hand and be granted his wisdom (I am NOT a business woman by any stretch of the imagination) that would be so greatly appreciated. And now, after much ado about very little, here is a recipe (or two) for you to try on your own, and reach frosted pastry bliss.
Banana Cupcakes
Makes about 15
1 1/2 C sifted ap flour
1 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp baking powder
3/4 tsp salt
1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
3/4 stick salted butter
3/4 C packed brown sugar
1 egg and 2 egg yolks
2 very ripe, large bananas
1/2 c buttermilk
1/2 tsp pure vanilla extract
1/2 c chopped pecans (optional. I did not add them when I made these, and still they were gorgeous)
Preheat the oven to 350ºF.
Combine the flour, baking soda, baking powder, salt, and cinnamon.
Cream the butter and sugar together for about two minutes using an electric hand mixer on medium speed. Add the eggs, cream the mixture for 3 minutes more. Add the bananas and the buttermilk, and the vanilla. Beat until the bananas are mashed up. Add the dry ingredients, a little at a time, and beat until just incorporated. if you'd like, add the pecans.
Fill prepared cupcake pans 3/4 full, and bake for about 15 minutes, until the tops of the cakes spring back when pressed.
Caramel Buttercream Frosting
Makes enough for 15 cupcakes
1/2 c sugar
2 T water
2 T heavy cream
1 stick salted butter, softened
2 egg whites, room temp
1 tsp pure vanilla extract
Bring 1/4 cup of sugar and the water to a boil in a small pan. Wash sides of pan with a wet pastry brush to prevent sugar crystals. Cook, undisturbed, until caramel is a dark amber. Remove from heat, slowly add cream, stirring until smooth. Let cool.
Beat butter with a mixer on medium speed until pale and fluffy, usually 3 minutes (unless you have weird butter).
Place egg whites and 1/4 cup sugar in a heatproff bowl set over a pot of simmering water. Whisk until sugar dissolves and it registers 160º. Remove from heat, whisk for 5 minutes on medium speed. Increase speed to high, whisk for 6 minutes, until stiff, glossy peaks form. Reduce to medium, add the butter, whisk thouroughly, add vanilla. On low speed, add the caramel and beat until smooth, 3-5 minutes.
This frosting is to die for, and easier to make than it sounds. You'll end up wanting to frost everything with this. From cupcakes to cookies to toast. I ate about half of it out of the bowl (I am a little ashamed to admit that). Anyway, have a good day, and MAKE THESE CUPCAKES.
Friday, May 4, 2012
a lovely turn of events
Today, I did something that was quite out of character for myself. I really did. I took a boxed banana bread mix, and I baked banana bread with it. It's really very rare that I can be found making processed food of any kind. Typically, everything is made from scratch. EVERY THING. This is in part because it's so much more enjoyable that way, so much more of an accomplishment. But also because it tastes better that way, and also because that way, I get all of the credit. I'm selfish like that. But today, my roommate wanted banana bread, and though we had everything else, there was no flour to be had.
Aside from that, this day has been quite enjoyable. Quite. Mmm. The sky is overcast, and I couldn't be happier about the way the light's coming off the clouds. I had leftover, cold chinese food for breakfast, which is a culinary delight that should get much more glory than it does. I spent quite a bit of time reading A Homemade Life by Molly Wizenburg, and trying to keep from crying, which is usually what happens when I read beautifully written prose, no matter how sad or happy they might be. Well written is sad or happy enough to cause tears from me.
This afternoon, I am excited to say, will be the first time I get to clean my chiropractor's house for her, and though initially I was really nervous about this prospect, seeing her house calmed all fears. She has a GIANT iguana named Junior, and her living room is decorated by a huge, ratty advertisement of the movie, "E.T." in french. The poster looks really old, and it makes the house. It really does. It's the perfect touch. She's a doll of a woman, really feisty, brutally honest, with a quirky son. She likes to tell me that my head's not screwed on straight, and she once told me that she's really glad she had a son, because all little girls are.....well, a rude word. Anyway, she's a doll. And then, after I come home, I'll eat battered halibut and mashed potatoes with caramelized onions and watch Lars and The Real Girl, twice, until 1 a.m. and then I'll sleep peacefully and probably wake up with a sinus headache.
I wish everyone else such a pleasant day, as well.
Aside from that, this day has been quite enjoyable. Quite. Mmm. The sky is overcast, and I couldn't be happier about the way the light's coming off the clouds. I had leftover, cold chinese food for breakfast, which is a culinary delight that should get much more glory than it does. I spent quite a bit of time reading A Homemade Life by Molly Wizenburg, and trying to keep from crying, which is usually what happens when I read beautifully written prose, no matter how sad or happy they might be. Well written is sad or happy enough to cause tears from me.
This afternoon, I am excited to say, will be the first time I get to clean my chiropractor's house for her, and though initially I was really nervous about this prospect, seeing her house calmed all fears. She has a GIANT iguana named Junior, and her living room is decorated by a huge, ratty advertisement of the movie, "E.T." in french. The poster looks really old, and it makes the house. It really does. It's the perfect touch. She's a doll of a woman, really feisty, brutally honest, with a quirky son. She likes to tell me that my head's not screwed on straight, and she once told me that she's really glad she had a son, because all little girls are.....well, a rude word. Anyway, she's a doll. And then, after I come home, I'll eat battered halibut and mashed potatoes with caramelized onions and watch Lars and The Real Girl, twice, until 1 a.m. and then I'll sleep peacefully and probably wake up with a sinus headache.
I wish everyone else such a pleasant day, as well.
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
Some Things You Can't Say Enough
Hmmm.
Well, I initially started this blog in the first place to help keep myself accountable for writing on a regular basis. Turns out, I'm horrible at sticking to things even when I have something to hold me accountable. Take working out, for example. I explicitly told my sister that I wanted her to ask me every day whether or not I had gone for a run, or at least a walk. So she did. And my answer every single day, was no. I didn't feel bad about it, either.
Lately, I have been feeling like I all I do is cook, watch tv, and sleep. I wake up, cook breakfast, go to class, cook for 5 hours, come home, cook dinner. Watch tv, fall asleep. And so goes each day. The cooking part, I love. I am getting heaps better at everything I was already good at, and learning about food is reminding me why I loved it so much in the first place.
But this feeling of tiredness, I cannot shake. I hardly know why I'm so tired, either. I sleep eight hours a night, I drink the correct amount of water (well, most days. See first paragraph.). But regardless, I wake up each day having to force my eyes open to the annoying beep of my alarm. I have a headache, behind my eyes from it. At the bus stop, I want to sleep. On the bus, in class, I wish I was sleeping. I so wish I understood what's going on with me. Sometimes I read back through my journal and I discover that my paragraphs are totally disconnected from eachother. They hardly make sense when you put them together. Mostly I just listen to music and then journal the lyrics of the songs I really like, and jot down a few sentences about how I can't say enough how tired I am.
Well, I really actually just wanted to write about this recipe that has been quite soothing and delicious to me lately. It goes against practically everything I stand for, because it involves eating tomatoes in winter, when they are out of season, but just pretend while you read this that it is the end of summer and these tomatoes are at the peak of freshness (which would make them so much more delicious as well). And here it is, lovelies:
Broiled Tomatoes with Mayonnaise
Serves 2
Preheat the oven to 400º F.
2 tomatoes
1 stalk of scallions
2 cloves of garlic
2 T mayonnaise
1 tsp salt
1 tsp pepper
1 T parmesan cheese
So here's what you want to do:
Slice each tomato into 4 slices. Mince the garlic and scallions. Combine the mayonnaise, garlic, scallions, salt and pepper in a small bowl. Place the tomato slices on a sheet pan, and top each slice with a small spoonful of the mixture. Sprinkle the parmesan cheese on top. Bake these in the oven until the tomatoes look soft and start to break down a little, and the cheese is browned, about 10 minutes. Eat them while they are warm. Prepare to meet your new favorite side dish.
That's all for today.
Well, I initially started this blog in the first place to help keep myself accountable for writing on a regular basis. Turns out, I'm horrible at sticking to things even when I have something to hold me accountable. Take working out, for example. I explicitly told my sister that I wanted her to ask me every day whether or not I had gone for a run, or at least a walk. So she did. And my answer every single day, was no. I didn't feel bad about it, either.
Lately, I have been feeling like I all I do is cook, watch tv, and sleep. I wake up, cook breakfast, go to class, cook for 5 hours, come home, cook dinner. Watch tv, fall asleep. And so goes each day. The cooking part, I love. I am getting heaps better at everything I was already good at, and learning about food is reminding me why I loved it so much in the first place.
But this feeling of tiredness, I cannot shake. I hardly know why I'm so tired, either. I sleep eight hours a night, I drink the correct amount of water (well, most days. See first paragraph.). But regardless, I wake up each day having to force my eyes open to the annoying beep of my alarm. I have a headache, behind my eyes from it. At the bus stop, I want to sleep. On the bus, in class, I wish I was sleeping. I so wish I understood what's going on with me. Sometimes I read back through my journal and I discover that my paragraphs are totally disconnected from eachother. They hardly make sense when you put them together. Mostly I just listen to music and then journal the lyrics of the songs I really like, and jot down a few sentences about how I can't say enough how tired I am.
Well, I really actually just wanted to write about this recipe that has been quite soothing and delicious to me lately. It goes against practically everything I stand for, because it involves eating tomatoes in winter, when they are out of season, but just pretend while you read this that it is the end of summer and these tomatoes are at the peak of freshness (which would make them so much more delicious as well). And here it is, lovelies:
Broiled Tomatoes with Mayonnaise
Serves 2
Preheat the oven to 400º F.
2 tomatoes
1 stalk of scallions
2 cloves of garlic
2 T mayonnaise
1 tsp salt
1 tsp pepper
1 T parmesan cheese
So here's what you want to do:
Slice each tomato into 4 slices. Mince the garlic and scallions. Combine the mayonnaise, garlic, scallions, salt and pepper in a small bowl. Place the tomato slices on a sheet pan, and top each slice with a small spoonful of the mixture. Sprinkle the parmesan cheese on top. Bake these in the oven until the tomatoes look soft and start to break down a little, and the cheese is browned, about 10 minutes. Eat them while they are warm. Prepare to meet your new favorite side dish.
That's all for today.
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
fried pickles with a side of bliss.
Recently, I have been feeling quite a bit better.
I think this has to do with several factors: 1. the sun. Oh, how, exciting to see the sun! it's honestly enchanting my eyes, my skin, and my heart with its brightness, and the best part of all is that it has played a huge part in the answering of my prayers...vain girl that I am, I have long since been praying for more freckles. I love them. I think they are beautiful. And with the appearance of sun, the appearance of freckles is also.
2. playing guitar. i have been playing guitar darn near every day for the past two weeks, and my fingers are now successfully calloused, and i have been improving. cause for celebration, indeed.
3. bacon consumption. sometimes, I believe (perhaps somewhat sacreligiously) that bacon and my moods are in direct correlation. No bacon = bad mood. plenty of bacon = abundant joy. and it just so happens that i shared a lovely meal with some lovely friends. and it was this:
burgers, filled with cheese, wrapped with bacon, accompanied by fried pickles. bliss, my friends, bliss. burgers are simple. however you make a burger, fill that with cheese, and then wrap it bacon. easy enough?
but fried pickles...oh, fried pickles. joy of living, i sometimes think. now, those...they are worth 'splaining about. so what you want to do is, take some pickles. really any will do, simply because even if a certain brand isn't appealing when eaten cold, i find that everything gains appeal when it has been breaded and deep fried. well, nearly everything. probably not a lightbulb or, say, a picture frame.
anyway, slice the pickles (6, large) on the bias, into nice, thin, diagonal slices. mix a few eggs (2), a splash of pickle juice (1 T), and some sriracha (2 tsp) together. in a seperate dish, combine flour (1/2 C), garlic powder (2 tsp), seasoning salt (2 tsp), black pepper (1/2 tsp), cornmeal (1/2 C).
then, you'll do this: dip the pickle slices into the eggs, coat them in the floury mixture, and deep fry them until they are lovely golden brown, and eat them. with ranch dressing.
happy fried pickles day, everyone.
I think this has to do with several factors: 1. the sun. Oh, how, exciting to see the sun! it's honestly enchanting my eyes, my skin, and my heart with its brightness, and the best part of all is that it has played a huge part in the answering of my prayers...vain girl that I am, I have long since been praying for more freckles. I love them. I think they are beautiful. And with the appearance of sun, the appearance of freckles is also.
2. playing guitar. i have been playing guitar darn near every day for the past two weeks, and my fingers are now successfully calloused, and i have been improving. cause for celebration, indeed.
3. bacon consumption. sometimes, I believe (perhaps somewhat sacreligiously) that bacon and my moods are in direct correlation. No bacon = bad mood. plenty of bacon = abundant joy. and it just so happens that i shared a lovely meal with some lovely friends. and it was this:
burgers, filled with cheese, wrapped with bacon, accompanied by fried pickles. bliss, my friends, bliss. burgers are simple. however you make a burger, fill that with cheese, and then wrap it bacon. easy enough?
but fried pickles...oh, fried pickles. joy of living, i sometimes think. now, those...they are worth 'splaining about. so what you want to do is, take some pickles. really any will do, simply because even if a certain brand isn't appealing when eaten cold, i find that everything gains appeal when it has been breaded and deep fried. well, nearly everything. probably not a lightbulb or, say, a picture frame.
anyway, slice the pickles (6, large) on the bias, into nice, thin, diagonal slices. mix a few eggs (2), a splash of pickle juice (1 T), and some sriracha (2 tsp) together. in a seperate dish, combine flour (1/2 C), garlic powder (2 tsp), seasoning salt (2 tsp), black pepper (1/2 tsp), cornmeal (1/2 C).
then, you'll do this: dip the pickle slices into the eggs, coat them in the floury mixture, and deep fry them until they are lovely golden brown, and eat them. with ranch dressing.
happy fried pickles day, everyone.
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
This Dark Day
Goodness, I am sick of the rain.
I am sick of riding the bus to school every day and having to spend so much time, wasted, in bus stops out in the cold.
I am sick of reading about sustainable purchasing on the internet until my eyes hurt, and my head hurts and my fingers hurt from twiddling them to keep from passing out due to boredom.
I am sick of cooking and baking and experimenting with things that don't turn out.
I am sick of emotions. Of being tired all of the time. So tired that my mind is always fuzzy and I can't think things through logically and I wonder what happened to this sharp, intelligent, brain that I had become accustomed to.
I am sick of the dark days, like this one, where so many negative, bummer things spring into my head and crowd for room, shoving into one another and barking at me in hushed tones until I want to cry only because I do not know what else to do.
I am sorry to sound so depressing...sorry for you, sorry for me, sorry for the people I affect when I feel this way.
But, I am thankful for some things today. I am so thankful that if I died right now, I wouldn't go to hell. That's a big one right there. I am thankful for writing. I've read so much today, restaurant reviews, blogs of strangers, blogs of friends, and I love how it lifts my spirits. There is such beauty in being let into a small piece of another persons world. Of seeing a little bit more of that someone. It feel likes being let into the house if you knocked on the door. It feels like the offer of a warm, fresh baked good or a glass of water when the heat's sweltering. And, I love that. Sometimes, when I read, I cry. When I read about food, about photography, about music. I wish I could soak up the beauty, that it would just come seeping out of me in so many millions of small bits of light, making me shine, lighting things up a little more. I feel so weird saying that, like that's not something that people say out loud, but they think it, all the time.
And I realize that I can actually do this. That I have the ability to soak up these bits of light. That there is such immense beauty just beyond my finger tips and I can nearly reach it, and then, that I can reach it. That it will be contagious to others, that they will feel the pull, it will make their hearts hungry, their souls parched, because of the sustenance they see. There's a reason that Jesus loves me so much, all of us, so much, that he came and proved it to us. And it's not just so I can die and not go to hell.
It's so that my life can turn from bland to marvelous, so that instead of hiding under an umbrella in the rain, I can call out for my own sunshine.
I am sick of riding the bus to school every day and having to spend so much time, wasted, in bus stops out in the cold.
I am sick of reading about sustainable purchasing on the internet until my eyes hurt, and my head hurts and my fingers hurt from twiddling them to keep from passing out due to boredom.
I am sick of cooking and baking and experimenting with things that don't turn out.
I am sick of emotions. Of being tired all of the time. So tired that my mind is always fuzzy and I can't think things through logically and I wonder what happened to this sharp, intelligent, brain that I had become accustomed to.
I am sick of the dark days, like this one, where so many negative, bummer things spring into my head and crowd for room, shoving into one another and barking at me in hushed tones until I want to cry only because I do not know what else to do.
I am sorry to sound so depressing...sorry for you, sorry for me, sorry for the people I affect when I feel this way.
But, I am thankful for some things today. I am so thankful that if I died right now, I wouldn't go to hell. That's a big one right there. I am thankful for writing. I've read so much today, restaurant reviews, blogs of strangers, blogs of friends, and I love how it lifts my spirits. There is such beauty in being let into a small piece of another persons world. Of seeing a little bit more of that someone. It feel likes being let into the house if you knocked on the door. It feels like the offer of a warm, fresh baked good or a glass of water when the heat's sweltering. And, I love that. Sometimes, when I read, I cry. When I read about food, about photography, about music. I wish I could soak up the beauty, that it would just come seeping out of me in so many millions of small bits of light, making me shine, lighting things up a little more. I feel so weird saying that, like that's not something that people say out loud, but they think it, all the time.
And I realize that I can actually do this. That I have the ability to soak up these bits of light. That there is such immense beauty just beyond my finger tips and I can nearly reach it, and then, that I can reach it. That it will be contagious to others, that they will feel the pull, it will make their hearts hungry, their souls parched, because of the sustenance they see. There's a reason that Jesus loves me so much, all of us, so much, that he came and proved it to us. And it's not just so I can die and not go to hell.
It's so that my life can turn from bland to marvelous, so that instead of hiding under an umbrella in the rain, I can call out for my own sunshine.
Thursday, March 8, 2012
A Quite Good Day, Indeed.
I discovered today that the main song from my favorite movie, Stranger Than Fiction, is called 'The Way We Get By', and is by Spoon. I immediately created a Pandora station dubbed thus, and I have spent the last five hours in bliss, listening to Cake, the Arctic Monkeys, the Cold War Kids, Spoon, the Red Hot Chili Peppers, the White Stripes, Vampire Weekend, and Guster play in the background. Lovely. And when I say 'lovely', I mean that in the absolute strongest sense of the word. This is the music that I have been craving my entire life. Do you know what a relief it is to find it all in one day? Do you?
Addtionally, for dinner tonight, I made and ate, with good friends, macadamia nut crusted swordfish steaks, Asparagus with a brown butter mustard bechamel, and kale with lemon and olive oil. Oh gosh. I love food. So much. My stomach is very happy right now. Not to mention healthy. Look at that veritable gold mine of nutrition! It is generally uncharted territory for my junk food appreciating self, but nay....I fear that omega 3's, leafy greens, and protein are a new, surprisingly enjoyable part of my diet!
I hope that there is somewhere an alternate universe where my life has constant background music like the aforementioned, where my theme song is 'The Way We Get By' by Spoon, and such a song no longer belongs to Harold Crick, where I eat ridiculous amounts of delicious food all the time but never gain a pound, and where I am married to a guy who is an endearing mixture of Marshall from How I Met Your Mother, and Jim from The Office. My afternoon has largely been spent with dreaming of such a universe.
And here are two recipes for you:
Kale with Olive Oil and Lemon
1 bunch of Kale (10 leaves or so)
2 T Olive Oil
1 T Lemon Juice
1/2 tsp minced fresh Garlic
Heat the oil over medium-high heat until it lightly begins to smoke. Toss in the freshly washed leaves of kale, which will pop dramatically, sounding really enthusiastic. After about 10 seconds, when the kale is bright, bright green, and just beginning to wilt, add the lemon juice. Await more popping. After about 30 seconds and a few tosses, add the garlic, cook for 30 seconds. Done! Not only was that incredibly simple, but here is an easy leafy green vegetable with a delightfully smooth mouthfeel and a taste that is not reminiscent of broccoli or wasabi, which is to say, it will go well with a plethora of other foods.
Macadamia-crusted Swordfish Steaks
2 Eggs
1 C Macadamia nuts
2 1/2-3/4 pound Swordfish steaks
1/2 C flour
2 T Olive oil
1 T butter
Beat the eggs until blended. Crush the macadamia nuts, however you deem acceptable, until they are in smallish chunks, and not pasty at all. I used one of those meat tenderizer things and a ziploc bag. It worked quite well. Pour the flour on a small plate. Coat each of the steaks in flour. Dip them in the egg. On a cutting board, spread the macadamia nuts into a thin layer. One at a time, coat the steaks with macadamia nuts, until a thick crust is formed. Heat the oil over high heat until it smokes. Add the swordfish, sear for 30-40 seconds on each side. Place in a baking dish, bake for 8-12 minutes at 400º. Let rest for three minutes before eating.
That is all.
Addtionally, for dinner tonight, I made and ate, with good friends, macadamia nut crusted swordfish steaks, Asparagus with a brown butter mustard bechamel, and kale with lemon and olive oil. Oh gosh. I love food. So much. My stomach is very happy right now. Not to mention healthy. Look at that veritable gold mine of nutrition! It is generally uncharted territory for my junk food appreciating self, but nay....I fear that omega 3's, leafy greens, and protein are a new, surprisingly enjoyable part of my diet!
I hope that there is somewhere an alternate universe where my life has constant background music like the aforementioned, where my theme song is 'The Way We Get By' by Spoon, and such a song no longer belongs to Harold Crick, where I eat ridiculous amounts of delicious food all the time but never gain a pound, and where I am married to a guy who is an endearing mixture of Marshall from How I Met Your Mother, and Jim from The Office. My afternoon has largely been spent with dreaming of such a universe.
And here are two recipes for you:
Kale with Olive Oil and Lemon
1 bunch of Kale (10 leaves or so)
2 T Olive Oil
1 T Lemon Juice
1/2 tsp minced fresh Garlic
Heat the oil over medium-high heat until it lightly begins to smoke. Toss in the freshly washed leaves of kale, which will pop dramatically, sounding really enthusiastic. After about 10 seconds, when the kale is bright, bright green, and just beginning to wilt, add the lemon juice. Await more popping. After about 30 seconds and a few tosses, add the garlic, cook for 30 seconds. Done! Not only was that incredibly simple, but here is an easy leafy green vegetable with a delightfully smooth mouthfeel and a taste that is not reminiscent of broccoli or wasabi, which is to say, it will go well with a plethora of other foods.
Macadamia-crusted Swordfish Steaks
2 Eggs
1 C Macadamia nuts
2 1/2-3/4 pound Swordfish steaks
1/2 C flour
2 T Olive oil
1 T butter
Beat the eggs until blended. Crush the macadamia nuts, however you deem acceptable, until they are in smallish chunks, and not pasty at all. I used one of those meat tenderizer things and a ziploc bag. It worked quite well. Pour the flour on a small plate. Coat each of the steaks in flour. Dip them in the egg. On a cutting board, spread the macadamia nuts into a thin layer. One at a time, coat the steaks with macadamia nuts, until a thick crust is formed. Heat the oil over high heat until it smokes. Add the swordfish, sear for 30-40 seconds on each side. Place in a baking dish, bake for 8-12 minutes at 400º. Let rest for three minutes before eating.
That is all.
Saturday, March 3, 2012
Scraps of Cheese Souffle
I did pride myself for awhile on the fact that I in no way had ever resembled the typical college kid. I ate fairly well balanced meals, did not keep up with any TV...at all, ever, and had a clean room. I could retain some dignity and act like a reasonable adult at the age of 20....for the most part (in my head, at least). Recently I have found that this is no longer true. Case in point:
The Office is something I'd now swear courses through my veins daily. If I don't watch it, I legitimately crave it. After a long day of reading hundreds of pages about vegetables and how to differentiate the parts of certain grains, I need a way to refuel my sense of humor and a good laugh.
Last night, I spent about 3 hours watching How I Met Your Mother, from the first episode. I immediately started watching it when I woke up. I am now at episode 21. It is 8:13 and I am just now deciding it's dinner time. My evening fare: A Trader Joe's Strawberries and Cream yogurt, 6 ounces of Pellegrino (I have developed a new taste for sparkling mineral water, which is an accomplishment to speak of) and a few handfulls of Reese's Peanut Butter Chips. Possibly followed by some Top Ramen around 10.
Today, I have done one thing that I am proud of. Based solely on my memory of an episode of Julia Child that I watched in school yesterday, I made a souffle, successfully. I am quite proud. It was enjoyed not only by me, but by others with good taste in food, which is how I know it was successful. A metal bowl with scraps of cheese souffle is now sitting on top of the stove. I need to wash that bowl. After the next episode of How I Met Your Mother.
The Office is something I'd now swear courses through my veins daily. If I don't watch it, I legitimately crave it. After a long day of reading hundreds of pages about vegetables and how to differentiate the parts of certain grains, I need a way to refuel my sense of humor and a good laugh.
Last night, I spent about 3 hours watching How I Met Your Mother, from the first episode. I immediately started watching it when I woke up. I am now at episode 21. It is 8:13 and I am just now deciding it's dinner time. My evening fare: A Trader Joe's Strawberries and Cream yogurt, 6 ounces of Pellegrino (I have developed a new taste for sparkling mineral water, which is an accomplishment to speak of) and a few handfulls of Reese's Peanut Butter Chips. Possibly followed by some Top Ramen around 10.
Today, I have done one thing that I am proud of. Based solely on my memory of an episode of Julia Child that I watched in school yesterday, I made a souffle, successfully. I am quite proud. It was enjoyed not only by me, but by others with good taste in food, which is how I know it was successful. A metal bowl with scraps of cheese souffle is now sitting on top of the stove. I need to wash that bowl. After the next episode of How I Met Your Mother.
Thursday, March 1, 2012
Oh, and Sparkling Orange Water
I started writing a few days ago, and the computer was in a rare mood, and did not save my draft. Good. I must not have been meant to write those things. I don't even know where to start. My shoulders are back to feeling like they're made of bricks and I've had an incessant cough for about two weeks, both unfavorable things.
I'll just write about food, because it helps to take my mind off of things that I really shouldn't be in an uproar about in the first place.
In the past week, it seems as if I've been touring the world a bit with my food choices. I can't complain...I've found Spain, Thailand, Italy to be delicious (as if I didn't already know). Monday night, I made Pad Thai. It was a recipe that we used in class for food costing, so I knew exactly how much each serving cost.....which "benefited" me. Tuesday, I made something of a Paella, with wild rice and black barley, and shrimp. Wednesday night, I made Pasta with Pine Nuts and Hashed Brussels Sprouts, which I have to say I've been waiting to make for a few months now, and it was delicious. It far surpassed my expectations. Find the recipe here, written by Molly Wizenberg, who is as much a beautifully talented writer as she is an amazing cook. I have made so many of her recipes, and have been more than satisfied with each of them. And although all of those dishes were lovely and happiness to my stomach, I am choosing to write about the breakfast I ate this morning. See, I've always held somewhat of a belief that breakfast is not only the important, but the most delicious meal of the day, and if it happens to be sub-par, the rest of the day can't be hoped to surpass it much. Well today, I've had a delicious start, and I think others would do well to try it.
This is what I ate: a piece of whole wheat toast with butter and camembert, two slices of bacon, two slices of fried tomato, and a poached egg. Oh, and sparkling orange water! If I did it all over again, I would change the toast to a fluffy slice of french bread, but it was still good.
Toast is self explanatory. Butter it while it's hot, mash up two small wedges of camembert over the top and let it melt slightly. Heat the pan to medium, and fry up two slices of bacon. Drain off most of the bacon fat. Slice two slices out of a tomato..any kind (I used roma, it's all I had). Mix breadcrumbs, a pinch of salt, and 1/2 tsp oregano. Drop a few drops of sriracha over each tomato slice. Press them firmly into the breadcrumbs to coat, fry in the remaining bacon grease until crisp outside and heated through. Poach an egg. If you don't know how to poach an egg, learn how to poach an egg. Leave the yolk creamy/runny, and press it down onto the toast. Eat and breathe a sigh of relief.
I'm so glad God gave us good food, and then made our stomachs the center of our emotions. I think his design is clear. Food nourishes, but comforts us, and this may seem like a stretch, but when I eat good food, I feel closer to him, grateful that he made something so tasty for me to eat.
Thanks, Jesus.
I'll just write about food, because it helps to take my mind off of things that I really shouldn't be in an uproar about in the first place.
In the past week, it seems as if I've been touring the world a bit with my food choices. I can't complain...I've found Spain, Thailand, Italy to be delicious (as if I didn't already know). Monday night, I made Pad Thai. It was a recipe that we used in class for food costing, so I knew exactly how much each serving cost.....which "benefited" me. Tuesday, I made something of a Paella, with wild rice and black barley, and shrimp. Wednesday night, I made Pasta with Pine Nuts and Hashed Brussels Sprouts, which I have to say I've been waiting to make for a few months now, and it was delicious. It far surpassed my expectations. Find the recipe here, written by Molly Wizenberg, who is as much a beautifully talented writer as she is an amazing cook. I have made so many of her recipes, and have been more than satisfied with each of them. And although all of those dishes were lovely and happiness to my stomach, I am choosing to write about the breakfast I ate this morning. See, I've always held somewhat of a belief that breakfast is not only the important, but the most delicious meal of the day, and if it happens to be sub-par, the rest of the day can't be hoped to surpass it much. Well today, I've had a delicious start, and I think others would do well to try it.
This is what I ate: a piece of whole wheat toast with butter and camembert, two slices of bacon, two slices of fried tomato, and a poached egg. Oh, and sparkling orange water! If I did it all over again, I would change the toast to a fluffy slice of french bread, but it was still good.
Toast is self explanatory. Butter it while it's hot, mash up two small wedges of camembert over the top and let it melt slightly. Heat the pan to medium, and fry up two slices of bacon. Drain off most of the bacon fat. Slice two slices out of a tomato..any kind (I used roma, it's all I had). Mix breadcrumbs, a pinch of salt, and 1/2 tsp oregano. Drop a few drops of sriracha over each tomato slice. Press them firmly into the breadcrumbs to coat, fry in the remaining bacon grease until crisp outside and heated through. Poach an egg. If you don't know how to poach an egg, learn how to poach an egg. Leave the yolk creamy/runny, and press it down onto the toast. Eat and breathe a sigh of relief.
I'm so glad God gave us good food, and then made our stomachs the center of our emotions. I think his design is clear. Food nourishes, but comforts us, and this may seem like a stretch, but when I eat good food, I feel closer to him, grateful that he made something so tasty for me to eat.
Thanks, Jesus.
Monday, February 20, 2012
Something Else
I'm tired. My head, neck, shoulders, back and throat hurt. I am in a slight amount of emotional frenzy. I spent no less than five hours of my day on a bus. Several buses, all of which smelled badly. For some inexplicable reason, I have not been sleeping for more than three hours at a time. I have nowhere to live, nowhere to work, and not a lot of friends. Wow. Read that again. I now feel slightly depressed. But, some good things happened today.
One of them is that I ate a very good, very large piece of pepperoni pizza. Nearly as big as the plate. At Pizza-a-go-go in NE Portland. I don't like the name. I also do not like typing it. But the pizza was delicious. Literally, a smile crossed my lips just now as I typed that, if that tells you anything. See, I am not one of those people that dabs my pizza with a napkin (or three). Honestly, I like my pizza with so much grease that it drips down my fingers while I'm eating it. That was this. Mmmmm. Crackly crust, the perfect ratio of cheese to pepperoni....bliss on an empty stomach.
Another is that during this time of the unknown, of a sometimes not-so-exciting adventure, of patience, and faith and trial, I am constantly being reminded of who God is. The details of his character. He keeps reminding me that he cares about me and loves me, and that he has unlimited access to all of the resources on earth. This is comforting in a season when I have none. I am also remembering that whenever I want to talk to somebody else about the things that cause me stress, I need to go to him first...he understands me the best.
The third and final thing is this poem, that was on the bus. I have this thing recently, that I'm not entirely fond of, where I mostly tear up when I read the poems on the bus, and I have to try not to cry. It's been happening for a while now. I want to know where my poetry hating cynicism has gone and why! I still hate rhyming poetry and always will, and there is comfort to be found in that.
"It was the end of something
and so we grew sad
according to how much we'd loved it.
Now, nothing
but our great variety of sadness
and for some,
a seed of instinct suggesting
something else
might eventually begin."
Words make my heart ache when they sound like this.
One of them is that I ate a very good, very large piece of pepperoni pizza. Nearly as big as the plate. At Pizza-a-go-go in NE Portland. I don't like the name. I also do not like typing it. But the pizza was delicious. Literally, a smile crossed my lips just now as I typed that, if that tells you anything. See, I am not one of those people that dabs my pizza with a napkin (or three). Honestly, I like my pizza with so much grease that it drips down my fingers while I'm eating it. That was this. Mmmmm. Crackly crust, the perfect ratio of cheese to pepperoni....bliss on an empty stomach.
Another is that during this time of the unknown, of a sometimes not-so-exciting adventure, of patience, and faith and trial, I am constantly being reminded of who God is. The details of his character. He keeps reminding me that he cares about me and loves me, and that he has unlimited access to all of the resources on earth. This is comforting in a season when I have none. I am also remembering that whenever I want to talk to somebody else about the things that cause me stress, I need to go to him first...he understands me the best.
The third and final thing is this poem, that was on the bus. I have this thing recently, that I'm not entirely fond of, where I mostly tear up when I read the poems on the bus, and I have to try not to cry. It's been happening for a while now. I want to know where my poetry hating cynicism has gone and why! I still hate rhyming poetry and always will, and there is comfort to be found in that.
"It was the end of something
and so we grew sad
according to how much we'd loved it.
Now, nothing
but our great variety of sadness
and for some,
a seed of instinct suggesting
something else
might eventually begin."
Words make my heart ache when they sound like this.
Sunday, February 12, 2012
I wish I could say I only have eyes for HIM
Jesus, Jesus, Jesus. It is this name which has been echoing through my head lately. This person, God, and man, who I have been finding my heart yearning for when I discover I am discontent. I know I need more of him. Every day, and all the time. Why does he seem so elusive? I admit that I could try a lot harder. But why don't I?
I've been frequently experiencing glimpses of the true and lovely fulfillment I've previously experienced when I've sought after him, by his grace in the first place. He fills me, heart and soul when I run to him. He is the most beautiful thing our blind eyes have ever been granted to see; the simple most elegant poetry our feeble pens have ever been equipped to write; the most lovely, perfect song deaf ears have ached to hear and attain more of. He is the music bursting through my cells, the light streaming from my pores, the tears pouring from my eyes, I am my beloved's and my beloved is mine.
I feel I cannot write adequate words. Blessed: oh how happy indeed. I've given up any hope of not being a romantic at this point, I've come to find that romanticism like the above paragraph shapes my view of life, in large part. And that settles it. I need to seek Jesus as though he is everything, because he is everything. It's Jesus we live for, and him we live by. He is my purpose, that which I am inclined to worship constantly. The son of God, and yet God. A beautiful mystery that makes it all the more worth it.
John 15:13 Greater love has no man than this: that he lay down his life for his friends.
Oh, he loves me, he loves me.
Sometimes, when I think of it, I sing to him, the song Better Together by Jack Johnson. I like to think it describes us two quite well.
I've been frequently experiencing glimpses of the true and lovely fulfillment I've previously experienced when I've sought after him, by his grace in the first place. He fills me, heart and soul when I run to him. He is the most beautiful thing our blind eyes have ever been granted to see; the simple most elegant poetry our feeble pens have ever been equipped to write; the most lovely, perfect song deaf ears have ached to hear and attain more of. He is the music bursting through my cells, the light streaming from my pores, the tears pouring from my eyes, I am my beloved's and my beloved is mine.
I feel I cannot write adequate words. Blessed: oh how happy indeed. I've given up any hope of not being a romantic at this point, I've come to find that romanticism like the above paragraph shapes my view of life, in large part. And that settles it. I need to seek Jesus as though he is everything, because he is everything. It's Jesus we live for, and him we live by. He is my purpose, that which I am inclined to worship constantly. The son of God, and yet God. A beautiful mystery that makes it all the more worth it.
John 15:13 Greater love has no man than this: that he lay down his life for his friends.
Oh, he loves me, he loves me.
Sometimes, when I think of it, I sing to him, the song Better Together by Jack Johnson. I like to think it describes us two quite well.
Monday, February 6, 2012
This Is It
I've been on a waffle kick lately. Tis true. I can't seem to get enough of them. Whenever I'm hungry, it's what I crave. (Replacing french fries and bacon for the time being, that's no small thing.) I recently went to the waffle window, and enjoyed what was possibly the best waffle I've consumed, to date.
It was puffy, airy, and fragrant inside, with a slight buttery crisp on the outside, accompanied by a crystallization of a few grains of sugar. Piping hot, topped with slivers of fresh basil, milky-rich brie, and three golden bronze, thick slices of pepper crusted bacon. My only regret about this waffle is that the bacon was almost too thick, making it hard to cut and a bit leathery. I tend to like the thinner kind of bacon that crisps up easily, with lots of fat that melts easily when eaten. Regardless, this waffle was a rare thing of splendor in a tired world of eggo's and boxes of pre-made, just-add-water waffle mix. With a scoop of home made peach jam on the side.
Almost a week ago, I myself made a batch of waffles that turned out golden brown, puffy and delicious. Since that time, I've been experimenting with the leftovers, and have found all sorts of toppings to be more than suitable. Today, though, I've used up the last, and I'm here to tell you that if you have leftover waffles and would like something to do with them, this is it.
Here's a foolproof way of heating them up, no matter which way you eat them. Butter the top side of the waffle. Sprinkle it with just a little sugar, and a pinch of kosher salt. Broil them in the toaster oven for about three minutes. I have found the toaster oven essential to my way of life currently, something I never thought I'd say. I'm sure there's an alternative to this, maybe broiling them in the oven for a few minutes.
Here's what else you're going to need to top half of a waffle:
2 slices of bacon
1/4 cup chocolate chips
3 thin slices of gruyere
While the waffle is heating and getting a toasty outer layer, cook the bacon over medium heat. Be sure to heat the pan first. Cook it for about three minutes on each side until it's medium crispy, browned nicely.
When the waffles come out of the toaster oven (or other heat source, excluding the dryer or fireplace), toss the chocolate chips on. Hopefully, they fall into the little squares. Now, add the cheese. The bacon goes on very last. Return the waffle to the toaster oven for about one minute, until the chocolate and cheese have partially melted. Let the waffle cool for just a minute, and then eat it rather rapidly. It sounds like an odd combination, but ends up being quite delicious.
Although the cheese has a rather unpleasant smell.
It was puffy, airy, and fragrant inside, with a slight buttery crisp on the outside, accompanied by a crystallization of a few grains of sugar. Piping hot, topped with slivers of fresh basil, milky-rich brie, and three golden bronze, thick slices of pepper crusted bacon. My only regret about this waffle is that the bacon was almost too thick, making it hard to cut and a bit leathery. I tend to like the thinner kind of bacon that crisps up easily, with lots of fat that melts easily when eaten. Regardless, this waffle was a rare thing of splendor in a tired world of eggo's and boxes of pre-made, just-add-water waffle mix. With a scoop of home made peach jam on the side.
Almost a week ago, I myself made a batch of waffles that turned out golden brown, puffy and delicious. Since that time, I've been experimenting with the leftovers, and have found all sorts of toppings to be more than suitable. Today, though, I've used up the last, and I'm here to tell you that if you have leftover waffles and would like something to do with them, this is it.
Here's a foolproof way of heating them up, no matter which way you eat them. Butter the top side of the waffle. Sprinkle it with just a little sugar, and a pinch of kosher salt. Broil them in the toaster oven for about three minutes. I have found the toaster oven essential to my way of life currently, something I never thought I'd say. I'm sure there's an alternative to this, maybe broiling them in the oven for a few minutes.
Here's what else you're going to need to top half of a waffle:
2 slices of bacon
1/4 cup chocolate chips
3 thin slices of gruyere
While the waffle is heating and getting a toasty outer layer, cook the bacon over medium heat. Be sure to heat the pan first. Cook it for about three minutes on each side until it's medium crispy, browned nicely.
When the waffles come out of the toaster oven (or other heat source, excluding the dryer or fireplace), toss the chocolate chips on. Hopefully, they fall into the little squares. Now, add the cheese. The bacon goes on very last. Return the waffle to the toaster oven for about one minute, until the chocolate and cheese have partially melted. Let the waffle cool for just a minute, and then eat it rather rapidly. It sounds like an odd combination, but ends up being quite delicious.
Although the cheese has a rather unpleasant smell.
Sunday, February 5, 2012
Skeptical About The Asparagus
Hmmm, today I was in a sandwich mood. I'm sure you know what I mean. The one where all you want is some glorious array of toppings, any which ones, as long as they are perfectly compatible, all in between two pieces of BREAD. How I love bread. And Pasta. Pasta with bread. Oh. Enough's enough.
Well anyway, the kind of bread I like to make my grilled sandwiches with is cheap bread. The kind that squishes down way too easily in any other circumstance. The kind you normally can't spread without tearing holes in, no matter how room temperature your butter (or other spreadable, edible substance) is.
So today, these ingredients found their way onto two slices of potato bread, with a lightly flour dusted top:
Mayonnaise
Spicy Brown Mustard
Marionberry Jam
Fontina Cheese
Leftover Roast Pork
Thinly Sliced Red Onions
Pickled Asparagus
That's right. I thinly sliced the cheese, the roast, the asparagus. Assembled the rest. And thanked God for the toaster oven as I happily buttered the outside of the bread, very carefully. Broiled that sucker for about 3 minutes, until it was the perfect mix of crispy, creamy, cold and warm. It has found its home in my stomach.
Question:
What are your favorite things to put on a sandwich?
Well anyway, the kind of bread I like to make my grilled sandwiches with is cheap bread. The kind that squishes down way too easily in any other circumstance. The kind you normally can't spread without tearing holes in, no matter how room temperature your butter (or other spreadable, edible substance) is.
So today, these ingredients found their way onto two slices of potato bread, with a lightly flour dusted top:
Mayonnaise
Spicy Brown Mustard
Marionberry Jam
Fontina Cheese
Leftover Roast Pork
Thinly Sliced Red Onions
Pickled Asparagus
That's right. I thinly sliced the cheese, the roast, the asparagus. Assembled the rest. And thanked God for the toaster oven as I happily buttered the outside of the bread, very carefully. Broiled that sucker for about 3 minutes, until it was the perfect mix of crispy, creamy, cold and warm. It has found its home in my stomach.
Question:
What are your favorite things to put on a sandwich?
Friday, February 3, 2012
And Here Are Some Recipes
I figured it's been a while since I've recorded any recipes, and so I thought that I would share the ones that I am personally craving right now.
Bacon Wrapped Fried Chicken
Makes 4 servings
2 Chicken Breasts
8 pieces of Bacon
1/2 cup of Flour
2 cups Cornflakes
1 cup japanese-style Bread Crumbs (panko)
Black Pepper (to taste)
Garlic Salt (to taste)
2 eggs
Cooking oil (of some kind)
Rinse the chicken under cold water. Pat dry with paper towels. Crack the eggs into a bowl, whisk lightly to break the yolks.
Combine the panko, cornflakes, flour, black pepper and garlic salt. Stir.
Pour the oil in a warm pan, over medium heat. Let this sit while you prepare the chicken.
Cut each chicken breast into thirds. Wrap a slice of bacon around each piece, diagonally, to cover.
Press down on the ends of the bacon to seal them. Dip the pieces in egg. At this point, your mouth will likely start to water considering the smell of oil and the feeling of bacon grease on your hands. Place the pieces of chicken in the cereal mixture, and press down, quite hard, to coat with a sufficient layer. If pieces of the bacon show through, even better.
The oil is ready when you place your hand under a running faucet and fling some of the drips into the pan and it crackles nicely. Place a few pieces of chicken in the oil, allowing them plenty of room. You'll want to cook them for about 4-5 minutes per side. That's a complete lie. You'll want to take them out much sooner than that. Don't do it.
When the chicken is done, remove it from the oil and transfer it onto a plate covered with paper towels. Serve hot.
A good accompaniment to this chicken is Red Potato French Fries with Reduced Garlic Balsamic. Here's the recipe for that goodness.
Red Potato French Fries with Reduced Garlic Balsamic
Makes 4 servings
4 large Red Potatoes
Sea salt (Or kosher salt)
Cooking oil
Extra Virgin Olive Oil
Balsamic Vinegar
3 cloves fresh Garlic
2 sprigs fresh Basil
Heat the oil in a pan over medium-high heat. Cut the potatoes into long, somewhat thin strips that resemble french fries. Do not peel these potatoes. Don't do it.
The oil is ready under the same circumstances as the oil for the chicken.
Fry the potatoes for approximately 5 minutes, stirring occasionally with a metal spoon.
While they're frying, mince the basil and garlic, both. Rapidly whisk together olive oil and balsamic vinegar until combined. Place them in a hot pan over high heat. Add the garlic and the basil. Cook for about two minutes, stirring frequently, until it has reduced slightly and the garlic is fragrant.
Remove the french fries from the oil, transfer them to a plate lined with paper towels. Sprinkle generously with good salt. Eat them hot. Right before serving, absolutely drizzle the balsamic mixture over them.
And that's all.
Bacon Wrapped Fried Chicken
Makes 4 servings
2 Chicken Breasts
8 pieces of Bacon
1/2 cup of Flour
2 cups Cornflakes
1 cup japanese-style Bread Crumbs (panko)
Black Pepper (to taste)
Garlic Salt (to taste)
2 eggs
Cooking oil (of some kind)
Rinse the chicken under cold water. Pat dry with paper towels. Crack the eggs into a bowl, whisk lightly to break the yolks.
Combine the panko, cornflakes, flour, black pepper and garlic salt. Stir.
Pour the oil in a warm pan, over medium heat. Let this sit while you prepare the chicken.
Cut each chicken breast into thirds. Wrap a slice of bacon around each piece, diagonally, to cover.
Press down on the ends of the bacon to seal them. Dip the pieces in egg. At this point, your mouth will likely start to water considering the smell of oil and the feeling of bacon grease on your hands. Place the pieces of chicken in the cereal mixture, and press down, quite hard, to coat with a sufficient layer. If pieces of the bacon show through, even better.
The oil is ready when you place your hand under a running faucet and fling some of the drips into the pan and it crackles nicely. Place a few pieces of chicken in the oil, allowing them plenty of room. You'll want to cook them for about 4-5 minutes per side. That's a complete lie. You'll want to take them out much sooner than that. Don't do it.
When the chicken is done, remove it from the oil and transfer it onto a plate covered with paper towels. Serve hot.
A good accompaniment to this chicken is Red Potato French Fries with Reduced Garlic Balsamic. Here's the recipe for that goodness.
Red Potato French Fries with Reduced Garlic Balsamic
Makes 4 servings
4 large Red Potatoes
Sea salt (Or kosher salt)
Cooking oil
Extra Virgin Olive Oil
Balsamic Vinegar
3 cloves fresh Garlic
2 sprigs fresh Basil
Heat the oil in a pan over medium-high heat. Cut the potatoes into long, somewhat thin strips that resemble french fries. Do not peel these potatoes. Don't do it.
The oil is ready under the same circumstances as the oil for the chicken.
Fry the potatoes for approximately 5 minutes, stirring occasionally with a metal spoon.
While they're frying, mince the basil and garlic, both. Rapidly whisk together olive oil and balsamic vinegar until combined. Place them in a hot pan over high heat. Add the garlic and the basil. Cook for about two minutes, stirring frequently, until it has reduced slightly and the garlic is fragrant.
Remove the french fries from the oil, transfer them to a plate lined with paper towels. Sprinkle generously with good salt. Eat them hot. Right before serving, absolutely drizzle the balsamic mixture over them.
And that's all.
Stitched With Its Color
Today, I rode the bus into Portland to submit some forms at my school, at the last minute.
Often, riding the bus is an un-enjoyable smelly, cramped experience, and, well...today it was too. I felt actually rude for the amount of coughing I was doing at the rank smell of cigarettes that the air was literally thick with.
Since I find walking so pleasant, even and sometimes especially when I'm by myself, I of course walked to get something to eat. And, incidently, walked much too far, turned around and found what I was looking for. I just had to follow the smell of all manner of foods, ethnic and otherwise, and trace them back to the food carts. I had heard nothing but good things (from one person) of 808, which serves hawaiian food, and so, I went there. The food was amazing. I paid exactly seven dollars for a large portion of 808 fried chicken, which comes on a bed of cabbage, with a scoop of white rice and another, separate scoop of cold macaroni salad. I was too hungry for my own good, and so between then and now, have eaten all of the food, about three meals worth under more normal circumstances.
Waiting for the bus proved to be longer than I had hoped for, and it was very windy, and cold. Unfortunately, I had made a mistake typical of myself, and seeing the sunshine, hadn't brought any sort of a jacket. Needless to say, by the time I actually got on the bus, my hands were numb, and my nose was red, my eyes a little watery.
And I looked up at the ceiling of the bus above where I was sitting, and I saw that there was a poem printed directly over my head. I really do appreciate the poems written on the bus. There have been a few quite disappointing ones, but in general, they actually inspire some type of thought. This one definitely did. It went like this:
Your absence has run through me like thread through a
needle.
Everything I do is stitched with its
color.
Something about it almost made me cry, after I read it the first time. I realized, shortly, that it had something to do with the fact that I distinctly feel the absence of so many people at this time in my life. And in my mind, I saw the picture of me, with a giant hole through my stomach, threads of all different colors going through it, and leaving a trail on the ground everywhere I go. That sounds much more strange then I would like it to. Anyway, I sat and thought about it for almost the whole bus ride home. This thought, in my mind, it was set to music. The song was "Postcards From Far Away" by Coldplay. Now that I think about that, it's actually fitting, isn't it?
When I'm thoughtful, I've often been told that I look upset. I'd like to think it's possible that anyone happening to glance over my way more than once, wondered why this girl sitting all the way in the back of the bus surrounded by smelly, old men appeared to be so perpetually angry with the world (then again, I think that says enough right there, doesn't it). Really, I wasn't angry. Just a little bit lonely, heart-achy, thinking of an obscure poem on the bus on a beautiful afternoon.
Often, riding the bus is an un-enjoyable smelly, cramped experience, and, well...today it was too. I felt actually rude for the amount of coughing I was doing at the rank smell of cigarettes that the air was literally thick with.
Since I find walking so pleasant, even and sometimes especially when I'm by myself, I of course walked to get something to eat. And, incidently, walked much too far, turned around and found what I was looking for. I just had to follow the smell of all manner of foods, ethnic and otherwise, and trace them back to the food carts. I had heard nothing but good things (from one person) of 808, which serves hawaiian food, and so, I went there. The food was amazing. I paid exactly seven dollars for a large portion of 808 fried chicken, which comes on a bed of cabbage, with a scoop of white rice and another, separate scoop of cold macaroni salad. I was too hungry for my own good, and so between then and now, have eaten all of the food, about three meals worth under more normal circumstances.
Waiting for the bus proved to be longer than I had hoped for, and it was very windy, and cold. Unfortunately, I had made a mistake typical of myself, and seeing the sunshine, hadn't brought any sort of a jacket. Needless to say, by the time I actually got on the bus, my hands were numb, and my nose was red, my eyes a little watery.
And I looked up at the ceiling of the bus above where I was sitting, and I saw that there was a poem printed directly over my head. I really do appreciate the poems written on the bus. There have been a few quite disappointing ones, but in general, they actually inspire some type of thought. This one definitely did. It went like this:
Your absence has run through me like thread through a
needle.
Everything I do is stitched with its
color.
Something about it almost made me cry, after I read it the first time. I realized, shortly, that it had something to do with the fact that I distinctly feel the absence of so many people at this time in my life. And in my mind, I saw the picture of me, with a giant hole through my stomach, threads of all different colors going through it, and leaving a trail on the ground everywhere I go. That sounds much more strange then I would like it to. Anyway, I sat and thought about it for almost the whole bus ride home. This thought, in my mind, it was set to music. The song was "Postcards From Far Away" by Coldplay. Now that I think about that, it's actually fitting, isn't it?
When I'm thoughtful, I've often been told that I look upset. I'd like to think it's possible that anyone happening to glance over my way more than once, wondered why this girl sitting all the way in the back of the bus surrounded by smelly, old men appeared to be so perpetually angry with the world (then again, I think that says enough right there, doesn't it). Really, I wasn't angry. Just a little bit lonely, heart-achy, thinking of an obscure poem on the bus on a beautiful afternoon.
Saturday, January 28, 2012
A Birthday To Remember...At Least For Some Time
This year, on my 21st birthday, a birthday that I hear is quite important to remember, I thought that I would be completely unoccupied. What began as an unplanned day of quiet aloneness somehow grew into a nearly 2 1/2 day long flurry of excitement with a plethora of dear friends. Here, I will chronicle the most memorable parts.
My birthday fell on a Wednesday.
On Tuesday, I and a family that is close to my heart went to the house of another family that is dear to me and cooked what will probably be forever remembered as one of the best meals of my life. And this is why: we ate Bacon-wrapped Fried Chicken. I will say it again, so I can fully absorb the wonder of this dish: Bacon-wrapped Fried Chicken. It is this dish that struck notes of bliss into that night. Oddly enough, it was in large part inspired by a vegetarian friend of mine, unknown to her at the time. And though she didn't partake of it, I like to think that she appreciated it as well.
About thirty minutes (or less) after my arrival home, my friends that I had spent the evening with called me to ask me if they could celebrate my birthday with me - I like to think that this speaks volumes about how much they care for me - and it was decided that we would cook yet another meal together. So, we did cook another meal together, the next night, my birthday night. Wonderful Spaghetti, the recipe for which I have written of before, with the addition of shrimp, which took it over the top. I was also treated to see the new Sherlock Holmes, and was glad I saw it.
Of course, that event is much too humble for one's 21st date of birth, and over to the house of my friend Morgan I traveled. Dear, thoughtful soul that she is, she had a peice of cake waiting for me with a candle to blow out the moment I walked through the door. It was one of those times where you don't realize you miss someone so much until you see them again. This was a birthday to remember, at least for some time.
However, the next day is when the real excitement began. Of course, none of this would have been complete without the VERY long awaited for trip to the food carts in downtown Portland. There is so much here to write about I would exhaust my fingers and I'll only write of the most important highlights. There was the softshell crab, of course, which nearly caused me to lose the stale popcorn I had eaten for breakfast, and then there was wonderful Thai food, there was Grilled Cheese with Apple, and there was a Maple Bacon Waffle with Wesley. Who is Wesley, you may wonder. Wesley is the young homeless man who walked up to us and asked us to buy him a meal, which we did, and did not ask us to provide friendly conversation, which we attempted to do, anyway. And that is when I learned that there is a folly to introducing yourself to a homeless gentleman who looks to be about your age while buying him lunch. He looked at me after shaking my hand, and very pointedly asked, "How old are you?" I may have overreacted, but I turned to the side and started laughing very hard, and my kind friend Wade responded for me, "She's older than some, but not as old as most." Thank you, for that.
Later in the day, I went to a dance recital of a friend, and at McMenamins, drank my first bit of legal beer, where of course, I was carded. I would be surprised if anyone believed I was 21. All in all, I would say it was a lovely birthday, much better than originally anticipated. I'm happy to say that I am now 21, and still have not ever been hungover.
My birthday fell on a Wednesday.
On Tuesday, I and a family that is close to my heart went to the house of another family that is dear to me and cooked what will probably be forever remembered as one of the best meals of my life. And this is why: we ate Bacon-wrapped Fried Chicken. I will say it again, so I can fully absorb the wonder of this dish: Bacon-wrapped Fried Chicken. It is this dish that struck notes of bliss into that night. Oddly enough, it was in large part inspired by a vegetarian friend of mine, unknown to her at the time. And though she didn't partake of it, I like to think that she appreciated it as well.
About thirty minutes (or less) after my arrival home, my friends that I had spent the evening with called me to ask me if they could celebrate my birthday with me - I like to think that this speaks volumes about how much they care for me - and it was decided that we would cook yet another meal together. So, we did cook another meal together, the next night, my birthday night. Wonderful Spaghetti, the recipe for which I have written of before, with the addition of shrimp, which took it over the top. I was also treated to see the new Sherlock Holmes, and was glad I saw it.
Of course, that event is much too humble for one's 21st date of birth, and over to the house of my friend Morgan I traveled. Dear, thoughtful soul that she is, she had a peice of cake waiting for me with a candle to blow out the moment I walked through the door. It was one of those times where you don't realize you miss someone so much until you see them again. This was a birthday to remember, at least for some time.
However, the next day is when the real excitement began. Of course, none of this would have been complete without the VERY long awaited for trip to the food carts in downtown Portland. There is so much here to write about I would exhaust my fingers and I'll only write of the most important highlights. There was the softshell crab, of course, which nearly caused me to lose the stale popcorn I had eaten for breakfast, and then there was wonderful Thai food, there was Grilled Cheese with Apple, and there was a Maple Bacon Waffle with Wesley. Who is Wesley, you may wonder. Wesley is the young homeless man who walked up to us and asked us to buy him a meal, which we did, and did not ask us to provide friendly conversation, which we attempted to do, anyway. And that is when I learned that there is a folly to introducing yourself to a homeless gentleman who looks to be about your age while buying him lunch. He looked at me after shaking my hand, and very pointedly asked, "How old are you?" I may have overreacted, but I turned to the side and started laughing very hard, and my kind friend Wade responded for me, "She's older than some, but not as old as most." Thank you, for that.
Later in the day, I went to a dance recital of a friend, and at McMenamins, drank my first bit of legal beer, where of course, I was carded. I would be surprised if anyone believed I was 21. All in all, I would say it was a lovely birthday, much better than originally anticipated. I'm happy to say that I am now 21, and still have not ever been hungover.
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
A Day For Walking
Sometimes, I have hard days.
And yesterday was one of them. See, I have this thing that I do, when I'm really tired. I sleep through my alarm. Well, to be more accurate, I less than half wake up, turn off my alarm, and then less than half go back to full slumber. In no way during this process am I coherent at all. This is hard to get people to believe, and for good reason. It is why I must maintain healthy sleeping habits.
The real problem is, I had plans with someone, and they were reasonably upset, as they should have been. But then this caused me to be upset, and distraught, and anxious and guilty, most of this based on past emotions and previous personal struggles. I didn't know how else to resolve this within myself, so I shortly decided that this was a day for walking, and I began, with nowhere in mind. I ended up walking a couple of miles down highway 99, an experience that I found to be a little unsettling. See, when I'm in a car, I watch people that walk along the road. And I could just imagine all the eyes of the people boring into the back of my head, which I'm sure they weren't.
In downtown Oregon City, there were so many beautiful things that I had not ever observed merely by driving through it. I just looked around and was amazed. I had forgotten how much fun walking could be.
By the end of it all, I was tired, much more content, two blisters had taken up residence on the bottom of my feet, and hunger was just now shaking in my stomach.
When all of these things combine together, there is only ever one thing that should be eaten, so upon arriving home, I assembled it. A bacon peanut butter and jelly sandwich. You, too should make one, to experience unprecedented culinary delight. Here's how:
Peanut butter and Marionberry preserves sandwich with Bacon
2 slices of fluffy white bread (or any bread. I'm sure honey wheat would do well, also)
Creamy peanut butter
Marionberry preserves
4 slices Bacon, any bacon at all
Butter
Generously spread peanut butter on one bread slice. Scoop mounds of lovely marionberry preserves on the other, and spread them out thinly. Over medium high heat, cook the bacon until it has become a crisp burgundy with perhaps a few dark edges. Press into the peanut butter and assemble the slices of bread together.
Butter the outsides of the sandwich, and grill over medium heat for about 3-4 minutes on each side, until it has become well toasted and the peanut butter has gone all melty and smooth.
Serves 1 person or 1/2 of a person. I could eat two of these on any given day.
At the end of the day, I sat, and I counted my blessings:
1.Good music
2.A lovely, encouraging talk with a great friend
3.Walking tunnels near waterfalls with beautiful acoustics with nobody around (singing permitted)
4.Beautiful downtown Oregon City
5.Finding my favorite new book "The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake" at a bookstore for two dollars. I purchased it.
6.A park with swings
7.My favorite type of weather for walking
8.Singer Hill art garden. I wandered around for too long in there.
9.More good conversation
10.Good food
11.Waterfalls
12.Having a sister
In the end, I have to know that my day started off badly. With tears, frustration, over-reaction and far too much anxiety for the current circumstances. But so many more were the blessings than the trials.
God showed me so much of His character on that walk. He introduced thoughts of Himself into my weary mind, helped me to ponder. His nature is that of a giver. He is so much to be grateful for, everything to be grateful for, in the end. And yet, so easily forgotten in the midst of the first uneasiness.
He is a patient teacher, a Father, a Friend.
And yesterday was one of them. See, I have this thing that I do, when I'm really tired. I sleep through my alarm. Well, to be more accurate, I less than half wake up, turn off my alarm, and then less than half go back to full slumber. In no way during this process am I coherent at all. This is hard to get people to believe, and for good reason. It is why I must maintain healthy sleeping habits.
The real problem is, I had plans with someone, and they were reasonably upset, as they should have been. But then this caused me to be upset, and distraught, and anxious and guilty, most of this based on past emotions and previous personal struggles. I didn't know how else to resolve this within myself, so I shortly decided that this was a day for walking, and I began, with nowhere in mind. I ended up walking a couple of miles down highway 99, an experience that I found to be a little unsettling. See, when I'm in a car, I watch people that walk along the road. And I could just imagine all the eyes of the people boring into the back of my head, which I'm sure they weren't.
In downtown Oregon City, there were so many beautiful things that I had not ever observed merely by driving through it. I just looked around and was amazed. I had forgotten how much fun walking could be.
By the end of it all, I was tired, much more content, two blisters had taken up residence on the bottom of my feet, and hunger was just now shaking in my stomach.
When all of these things combine together, there is only ever one thing that should be eaten, so upon arriving home, I assembled it. A bacon peanut butter and jelly sandwich. You, too should make one, to experience unprecedented culinary delight. Here's how:
Peanut butter and Marionberry preserves sandwich with Bacon
2 slices of fluffy white bread (or any bread. I'm sure honey wheat would do well, also)
Creamy peanut butter
Marionberry preserves
4 slices Bacon, any bacon at all
Butter
Generously spread peanut butter on one bread slice. Scoop mounds of lovely marionberry preserves on the other, and spread them out thinly. Over medium high heat, cook the bacon until it has become a crisp burgundy with perhaps a few dark edges. Press into the peanut butter and assemble the slices of bread together.
Butter the outsides of the sandwich, and grill over medium heat for about 3-4 minutes on each side, until it has become well toasted and the peanut butter has gone all melty and smooth.
Serves 1 person or 1/2 of a person. I could eat two of these on any given day.
At the end of the day, I sat, and I counted my blessings:
1.Good music
2.A lovely, encouraging talk with a great friend
3.Walking tunnels near waterfalls with beautiful acoustics with nobody around (singing permitted)
4.Beautiful downtown Oregon City
5.Finding my favorite new book "The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake" at a bookstore for two dollars. I purchased it.
6.A park with swings
7.My favorite type of weather for walking
8.Singer Hill art garden. I wandered around for too long in there.
9.More good conversation
10.Good food
11.Waterfalls
12.Having a sister
In the end, I have to know that my day started off badly. With tears, frustration, over-reaction and far too much anxiety for the current circumstances. But so many more were the blessings than the trials.
God showed me so much of His character on that walk. He introduced thoughts of Himself into my weary mind, helped me to ponder. His nature is that of a giver. He is so much to be grateful for, everything to be grateful for, in the end. And yet, so easily forgotten in the midst of the first uneasiness.
He is a patient teacher, a Father, a Friend.
Monday, January 9, 2012
Spaghetti By Name
Comfort foods.
Think about this phrase for a minute. Comfort....food. And it is so true. Food can be such a comfort. Sometimes, too much. And then are those times when comfort is found in other, perhaps more constructive ways. Prayer, the scriptures, and the words of a faithful friend. To this comfort, these lovely bits of life that uplift the soul, we add food. Nutrition, yes, but unfortunately, it is never the main focus of my food, especially when I go to it for comfort.
But I find that by far, it is the most gratifying when I stumble upon it and realize that it is just what I needed to complete my day.
Recently, my life has been so-so, and I will admit that I have been lacking in the department of contentment. I know the scripture is true, "godliness with contentment is great gain", and I have much still to be gained. I have not been busy, and so I feel bored, complacent, and also unproductive. And it really gets to me. REALLY. So today, I was late waking up. Tired, dragging. And proceeded to talk on the phone for a few hours. Something I rarely do, and was much appreciated. Upon finally getting up and about, my roommate suggested a lovely dining suggestion: spaghetti.
I sometimes wonder: what could be more satisfying, scrumptious, and fulfilling then pasta, in most forms? There are so many ideal things about it, and really, it's versatile. It can be tossed with anything, and it generally seems that it's forms are endless. Spaghetti, itself, if done correctly, is not too heavy, bursting with flavor, and dissolves into creamy splendor with just a few light chews. I dream of spaghetti, sometimes. The way it tastes, the delightful texture, and the delicate complexity in how it all works together.
And I seem to have discovered enough secrets to make it fail-safe.
The first: season the water. I think I must make my roommate bored of me with how much I talk about it. Honestly, anytime cooking comes up, it loops back to seasoning the water. I use garlic, basil, olive oil, and generous, generous salt.
2. Caramelize everything except the tomatoes. Mushrooms, onions, garlic, and more basil.
3. When you cook the meat (I use italian sausage) please cook bacon first and then add the rest in.
4. If you cook the tomatoes for only half an hour, high heat, no lid, they reduce beautifully, and the skins are so soft, you won't even notice them.
5. This is the most important and last one. No matter what sauce you use or if you season the water (and you really should), reserve a little of the pasta water in a warm skillet. Add the pasta, the sauce. Allow it to cook until it bubbles softly around the edges. And add BUTTER. The magic ingredient. It transforms the sauce. Let it simmer for just a moment and it becomes this creamy, melt in your mouth deliciousness, the whole dish.
The ACTUAL Recipe:
10 roma tomatoes
1 large bunch of basil (a handful)
2 tblsp italian seasoning
7 cloves fresh garlic
1/3 sweet white onion
1/2 lb mild italian sausage
3 slices bacon
Extra Virgin Olive Oil
Kosher Salt
1 small box of Spaghetti
Method:
Chop the tomatoes into large chunks. Cook them in a large skillet on medium high heat with a splash of olive oil, a little water and two teaspoons of salt.
Dice the onions and caramelize them quickly in a hot pan with olive oil, over medium high heat, for about 10 minutes. Slice the mushrooms, peel and chop four cloves of the garlic. Chop the basil. Seperate it into halves. Add half to the onions, and allow to cook for five minutes.
Put a large pot of water on to boil. Add a generous amount of salt. In the old days, Italians believed the water should be as salty as the ocean. I don't take it that far. Add half of the remaining basil. Pour a good splash of olive oil in there, as well. Peel the remaining three cloves of garlic and cut them in half. Toss them in.
Using kitchen shears, cut the bacon in thin strips into a heated skillet. Cook until they just begin to crisp. Pour off most of the grease. Add the sausage and 1/3 cup of water. This helps to soften the meat and break it apart. Break it up, and stir it while it browns. Season with two tablespoons of italian seasoning.
When the tomatoes appear to have reduced by half and look very soft, reduce the heat to low and add the meat and caramelized vegetables.
The water should be boiling by now, so add the pasta and cook for 11 minutes.
During this time, I feel it's only right that you butter several thick slices of bread, top them with roasted garlic, and broil them for a few minutes.
Drain the pasta, reserving about 1/2 cup of liquid in a heated skillet. Add the pasta. Carefully pour in the sauce. Cook on medium high for 2-3 minutes, tossing frequently. When it bubbles, add two tablespoons of butter. As it melts, toss the mixture. Allow to sit for about one minute. You will likely see the transformation from ordinary spaghetti to something that is more magically delicious than Lucky Charms themselves.
Eat this while it is still warm enough to steam, but cool enough that it does not scald you, accompanied by garlic bread.
Serves 4-6 generously.
Think about this phrase for a minute. Comfort....food. And it is so true. Food can be such a comfort. Sometimes, too much. And then are those times when comfort is found in other, perhaps more constructive ways. Prayer, the scriptures, and the words of a faithful friend. To this comfort, these lovely bits of life that uplift the soul, we add food. Nutrition, yes, but unfortunately, it is never the main focus of my food, especially when I go to it for comfort.
But I find that by far, it is the most gratifying when I stumble upon it and realize that it is just what I needed to complete my day.
Recently, my life has been so-so, and I will admit that I have been lacking in the department of contentment. I know the scripture is true, "godliness with contentment is great gain", and I have much still to be gained. I have not been busy, and so I feel bored, complacent, and also unproductive. And it really gets to me. REALLY. So today, I was late waking up. Tired, dragging. And proceeded to talk on the phone for a few hours. Something I rarely do, and was much appreciated. Upon finally getting up and about, my roommate suggested a lovely dining suggestion: spaghetti.
I sometimes wonder: what could be more satisfying, scrumptious, and fulfilling then pasta, in most forms? There are so many ideal things about it, and really, it's versatile. It can be tossed with anything, and it generally seems that it's forms are endless. Spaghetti, itself, if done correctly, is not too heavy, bursting with flavor, and dissolves into creamy splendor with just a few light chews. I dream of spaghetti, sometimes. The way it tastes, the delightful texture, and the delicate complexity in how it all works together.
And I seem to have discovered enough secrets to make it fail-safe.
The first: season the water. I think I must make my roommate bored of me with how much I talk about it. Honestly, anytime cooking comes up, it loops back to seasoning the water. I use garlic, basil, olive oil, and generous, generous salt.
2. Caramelize everything except the tomatoes. Mushrooms, onions, garlic, and more basil.
3. When you cook the meat (I use italian sausage) please cook bacon first and then add the rest in.
4. If you cook the tomatoes for only half an hour, high heat, no lid, they reduce beautifully, and the skins are so soft, you won't even notice them.
5. This is the most important and last one. No matter what sauce you use or if you season the water (and you really should), reserve a little of the pasta water in a warm skillet. Add the pasta, the sauce. Allow it to cook until it bubbles softly around the edges. And add BUTTER. The magic ingredient. It transforms the sauce. Let it simmer for just a moment and it becomes this creamy, melt in your mouth deliciousness, the whole dish.
The ACTUAL Recipe:
10 roma tomatoes
1 large bunch of basil (a handful)
2 tblsp italian seasoning
7 cloves fresh garlic
1/3 sweet white onion
1/2 lb mild italian sausage
3 slices bacon
Extra Virgin Olive Oil
Kosher Salt
1 small box of Spaghetti
Method:
Chop the tomatoes into large chunks. Cook them in a large skillet on medium high heat with a splash of olive oil, a little water and two teaspoons of salt.
Dice the onions and caramelize them quickly in a hot pan with olive oil, over medium high heat, for about 10 minutes. Slice the mushrooms, peel and chop four cloves of the garlic. Chop the basil. Seperate it into halves. Add half to the onions, and allow to cook for five minutes.
Put a large pot of water on to boil. Add a generous amount of salt. In the old days, Italians believed the water should be as salty as the ocean. I don't take it that far. Add half of the remaining basil. Pour a good splash of olive oil in there, as well. Peel the remaining three cloves of garlic and cut them in half. Toss them in.
Using kitchen shears, cut the bacon in thin strips into a heated skillet. Cook until they just begin to crisp. Pour off most of the grease. Add the sausage and 1/3 cup of water. This helps to soften the meat and break it apart. Break it up, and stir it while it browns. Season with two tablespoons of italian seasoning.
When the tomatoes appear to have reduced by half and look very soft, reduce the heat to low and add the meat and caramelized vegetables.
The water should be boiling by now, so add the pasta and cook for 11 minutes.
During this time, I feel it's only right that you butter several thick slices of bread, top them with roasted garlic, and broil them for a few minutes.
Drain the pasta, reserving about 1/2 cup of liquid in a heated skillet. Add the pasta. Carefully pour in the sauce. Cook on medium high for 2-3 minutes, tossing frequently. When it bubbles, add two tablespoons of butter. As it melts, toss the mixture. Allow to sit for about one minute. You will likely see the transformation from ordinary spaghetti to something that is more magically delicious than Lucky Charms themselves.
Eat this while it is still warm enough to steam, but cool enough that it does not scald you, accompanied by garlic bread.
Serves 4-6 generously.
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