Chard Not Charred

My Monday night routine is back (minus Gossip Girl, which has been moved to Wednesday nights), and it feels so good. After what seems like ages, it's nice enough to run outside. I didn't even need a hat or gloves. Once tired (which took no time at all), I came home and started chopping, boiling and sizzling in the kitchen. Feeling so bold and a bit desperate, I cooked some horrible, out-of-season tomatoes into edibility with garlic, salt, pepper and olive oil, and sauteed some greens.

 

Previous bad experiences (i.e. canned spinach that made me gag--an infamous story among my family), kept me away from cooked greens of any sort for far too long. Spinach, kale, Swiss chard, bok choy; they're all glorious. They lend themselves so well to butter and garlic. They're crunchy, yet the wilted ends are so creamy (but not mushy).

 

After however many years it's been of me cooking for myself, I think I've got the one-plate meal down. Pasta, check. Soup, check. Stew, got it. I've been ready to take on meat and poultry for some time now but keep putting it off. Meat is more expensive; it takes longer to cook (usually); I don't eat that much; I cook for myself most of the time and it feels a little sad to be making a big ordeal of dinner when it's just me. I think that last one is probably the clincher. How pathetic to be sitting watching "Friends" at home alone instead of eating with them.

 

Get over it, Lainey. My new goal is to make a real meal, one with sides of potatoes and vegetables, once a week. Starting ... next wek. In the meantime, here's another one-plater.

 

Macaroni with tomatoes, chard and goat cheese: serves 2

2 cups macaroni

1 cup diced tomatoes

1 pound Swiss chard, stems discarded and coarsely chopped

1 clove garlic

1/2 cup chicken stock

1/4 cup dry white wine

salt and pepper to taste

goat cheese to garnish

 

Bring a medium pot of salted water to a boil. Cook macaroni or other small-to-medium-size pasta until soft but firm to the bite. Drain and set aside.

 

In a saute pan, heat a couple tablespoons of olive oil on medium. Add the tomatoes, season with salt and pepper and saute for several minutes. Add the garlic, continue sauteing until the garlic has turned a golden brown (1 or 2 minutes, tops). Add the chicken stock and wine. Bring the liquid to a boil, reduce the heat and allow some of the liquid to boil off so the volume is cut in half by the end of it. After it has reduced (5-7 minutes), add the chopped chard. Stir while it cooks. Add the pasta to the saute pan once the chard has cooked through and turned a brilliant green color (about 4 minutes). Stir to combine. Season with salt and pepper. Serve. Add a couple dollops of goat cheese to each bowl of pasta. Stir to incorporate.

Double For Nothing

I found a double yolk!

With all the eggs I've consumed, the odds finally caught me. I was making dinner with some friends and showed off what a huge egg I had found in a carton of already obese eggs. It was a monster. And voila, once cracked, its largesse was explained with quite a surprise. Two yolks! Twins! Of course, I selfishly requested to eat that egg, which I think was fine because nobody likes poached eggs except me. Runny yolks freak people out, but that's the best part: It's smooth like buttah.

I could never open a restaurant because I'd always be serving things I think are fabulous but which most of the world loathes: asparagus and other strange vegetables, runny eggs, assorted beans and legumes, things dowsed in an escessive amount of vinegar. I have this obnoxious interest in things just for the weird factor (except for things related to the Coen Bros). Joanna Newsom (weirdest voice ever), Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind is one of my favorite movies (and it is trippy), this video to go with a Grizzly Bear song. When my sister Allison and I were little, we would sit on our dad's lap while he read us Berenstein Bears or Dr. Seuss books. He would read, most commonly, in a French accent, and we would whine, "daaaaddddd, read it normal and boring." His response was (obviously) to read it in a robot voice, which isn't actually boring at all. We would scream, "No, dad. Regular. Read it regular." Turns out regular is boring. I like my friends how I like my steak, medium-rare. What if people only ever liked Nickelback and Lenny Kravitz, films starring Will Smith, and carrots and peas?

This tomato-sauce casserole was pretty hearty, plus incredibly easy. I just used this easy tomato sauce recipe, added some sauteed arugula, vodka and buttermilk while simmering the sauce. Cracked the eggs and broiled the whole thing at 400 degrees for 12 minutes, just until the egg whites were cooked through.

Boozy Cake for the Kids

I've been meaning to make this cake for months now, but whenever I make sweets they end up sticking around the apartment until they're rock solid, moldy or attract flies (that happened with the apple pie, it's gross, I know). Sunday afternoon, I had a feeling of emerging from winter, ragged and weather-beaten but still alive. Plus, I felt a little celebratory: After more than 10 years of attending my church, I finally completed the membership class to officially join. Can we say committment problem? Actually, I don't think I have committment issues; I just take it seriously. I don't want to commit, even to something small like going to a movie with friends on a Friday night, if I don't think I'll be able to follow through. So yesterday, I became the last member of my family to join West Hills, and it felt like a big deal. Like something that should be commemorated with a cake.

Yesterday was actually the 50th anniversary of the church, making it that much more special to me. The charter members (so the first people to join the church 50 years ago) came up with the new members, and I (almost teary) just thought of how thankful I am that all those people stuck with the church for 50 years--I can't even conceive of that amount of time. I am so blessed because of their faithfulness. I just love my church; it's filled with people who are so honest about their faith, which is such a rare gem these days. These people are not looking for easy answers to life's questions, and I love that. And they wouldn't care that I poured a whole cup of amaretto liqueur into this cake and served it to the high school students--not that that's at all edgy considering the alcohol was completely cooked out, but I'm sure someone out there would have scoffed.

The cake is supposed to go in a bundt pan, which I do not own. Two cake rounds worked out fine, plus I got to use the two cake stands I got for my birthday. Oh it was so good. Almost like a brownie with a crunchy crust. The almond flavoring from the amaretto really came out, and it is chocolatey in the best sense--as in not milk-chocolate sweet, but dark, bitter and complex. While I was mixing it, I kept wanting to stop after each step because the batter already tasted so good. I'm glad I went all the way.

Chocolate-Amaretto Cake: aka Boozy Cake from Orangette

5 ounces unsweetened chocolate

1/4 cup instant espresso powder

2 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa powder

1/2 teaspoon salt

1 cup amaretto liqueur (alternatively whiskey, bourbon or kirsch brandy)

2 sticks butter, softened

2 cups granulated sugar

3 large eggs

1 tablespoon vanilla extract

1 teaspoon baking soda

2 cups flour

powdered sugar and almond slivers for garnishing

Preheat oven to 325. Melt chocolate using a double boiler or fill a pot of water a little bit, place a glass or heat-resistant bowl in the pot, bring the water to a soft boil and melt the chocolate in the glass bowl.

In a medium-size bowl, combine the espresso and cocoa powders. Pour about a 1/2 cup of boiling water into the bowl, blend the powders until they've completely dissolved. Pour in the liqueur. Orangette recommends whiskey or bourbon, but I didn't have either (not a big whiskey fan). I love the flavor of amaretto though.

In a large bowl, mix the butter with an electric beater until creamy. Add the sugar and blend until smooth. Add each of the eggs, one at a time. Add the vanilla and baking soda and blend again. Pour in the melted chocolate and mixture until smooth. Pour in one-third of the boozy mixture, blend. Dump in one cup of flour, blend. Pour in half of the remaining boozy mixture, blend. Add the last cup of flour, blend. Add the last of the amaretto, blend. Transfer batter to two 8- or 9-inch cake rounds or one bundt pan--well greased all around. Bake for 55 minutes in the cake rounds or for 1 hour and 10 minutes in the bundt. Garnish with powdered sugar and almonds to fancy it up.

How To Clean a Syrup Spill

In case you didn't know, I am a massive clutz.

Last night while making Indian lentil stew, I was rumaging around in the cupboard and knocked something off the shelf. I heard it crash and shatter behind me before I turned around to see that the contents of an entire bottle of syrup had splattered all over the kitchen floor. It was everywhere: dripping down the fridge, on the counter, all over the floor, on the door, a small amount on the wall and this morning I noticed a couple drops of solidified sugar on my shoes. I just looked at it, cursing the makers of a breakable bottle of syrup. Aunt Jemima has it right with those plastic ones.

Clean-up was (obviously) a tad ridiculous. eHow said that pouring salt on the wound would absorb the stuff, which actually did help. I went through two containers of table salt to get this bad boy off the floor, if you can picture me just pouring and scraping with a metal spatula in my underwear (so as not to get my clothing sticky). And then mopping the floor, also in my underwear. At one point I had syrup all over the bottom of my feet but needed something from the closet, so I crawled on my (already bruised) hands and knees to the closet and back again. In all, it took three goes at washing the floor, plus Megan came home and wiped it clean with a wash cloth. Sheesh, what a night.

Here's To Somethine New

I love trying new things. Discovery can be a spiritual experience at times, at least I think it can be. There's a revelatory moment that comes, "Oh, so this is a parsnip. It's not as bad as its name would suggest." I've explained, probably more than once on this blog, that trying something new is my absolute favorite part of cooking--well, aside from the obvious eat-delicious-food motivation. I can come home from work and spend anywhere from five minutes to an hour or so doing something I may have never done before. It's completely practical, yet endlessly creative.

Not every new thing I try is brilliant and leads to a "spiritual awakening." For example, adding these carrots to the roasted parsnips was not my best idea. Good in theory, but I am not a fan of cook carrots--they're too sweet and can end up rather mushy. These were just too sweet. But the parsnips, dunked in egg white and dragged through parmesan cheese and sprinkled with salt, pepper, oregano and roesmary were pretty good. I dipped them in this marinara sauce, as recommended by this blog. So now, I like parsnips, although I wouldn't put them up there with my recent affinity for blanched broccolini, wilted kale or fennel salads.

So another new thing I've been trying lately is rock climbing. I joined this outdoor group and started going to the rock wall at UNO. It's a good thing failures don't stop me from trying something because I have no skill whatsoever in scaling walls. The first time I went to the wall I could not do anything. Nothing. There are only a few parts of this wall the don't require climbing upside down or nearly so. Now I can do something--barely. Ascending the wall usually involves quite a bit of air- and leg-flailing, an exorbitant amount of muffled (and not-so-muffled) cursing and giving up at least once. But once I do actually (occasionally) top out, it feels pretty awesome to sit back in my harness and take in the view before being lowered down. No matter how painful these ascents are (to watch and participate in), I leave wanting to try again. Last night was my last time climbing before the UNO wall closes for construction (disappointing), but I'm looking forward to some camping trips this summer.

Roasted Parsnips: from Sprouted Kitchen

4 parsnips

1 egg white

dried oregano

dried rosemary

parmesan cheese

salt and pepper to taste

Preheat oven to 425. Julienne the parsnips so that they're all about the same size. In a bowl, whisk together the egg white, oregano and rosemary. Place the parmesan cheese on a plate. Coat each slice of parsnip with egg white, rolling it in the mixture, then drag it through the parmesan cheese, rolling it to cover. Place it on an aluminum foil-covered baking sheet (*important* it won't be easy to clean). Sprinkle with salt and pepper. Bake for 20 to 25 minutes. Dip in marinara sauce.

While the carrots were a disappointment, I do think sweet potatoes and/or regular potatoes would be great according to this recipe.

Gumbo

I need desperately for a sunny, warm weekend. Or day. I would take day. One day without sludge-snow covering everything in this city made by machine. And a day with temps in the 50s.

This weekend I mostly stayed at home. I slept in and read for a large part of Saturday. Sunday, I went to church, read, went to church, watched A Serious Man (the Coen Bros are so weird) with Megan and slept. I didn't cook. I didn't even feel like eating anything. I like the thought of not doing anything, but it's beginning to get old at this point. Plus it feels like I should relax because I want to relax not because stepping one foot outside or opening the window to see that the snow is still there once more is enough to make me retreat under the covers of my bed with a book in hand. This seems about the right time of year for forty days of mourning and solemnity. I made this gumbo for a Mardi Gras party at work, and I may have to make it again once a week until asparagus is in season. It's hearty, making it the perfect meal for winter, yet spicy, which gives a nice wake-up call. Plus, nothing makes me happy like using my Dutch oven.

Gumbo:

2 tablespoons flour

1 chicken breast

1 medium onion

1 green pepper

2 cloves garlic

1 stalk celery

4 cups chicken stock

1/2 teaspoon chili powder

1/2 teaspoon thyme
dash cayenne pepper
salt and pepper
1 bay leaf
2 ounces sausage

2 ounces shrimp

1/4 cup rice

Louisiana hot sauce to season

On medium heat, toast the flour, dry, until it is lightly browned. Remove and set aside. Chop chicken into 1-inch cubes. Cook through with a bit of oil. Remove and set aside. Chop the onion, pepper, garlic and celery. Warm some oil on medium heat, add the vegetables and saute for a few minutes, until the onion is lightly browned. Season with chili, thyme, salt and pepper. Add the chicken stock, bay leaf, shrimp and sausage and already-cooked chicken. Bring to a boil and reduce to simmer. Add the flour back in along with the rice. Stir to incorporate. Simmer until rice is cooked through and the vegetables are softened (about 20 to 30 minutes). Serve and season with Louisiana hot sauce.

Covert Operation

I've used some semi-covert tactics to learn a few tricks to make some superior home-fried potatoes--I say semi-covert because prying the trick from my friend Dan was too easy to be considered a true mission. I've now been teasing Dan for probably weeks that I'm going to share his trick and say its my own, thus bringing my worldwide fame or at least fame among the 50 or so people who actually read my blog posts in their entirety. Yes, these potatoes are good enough to make me a few friends I think.

I've made olive-oil fried potatoes many times, so I was a little surprised the tuber could achieve the sort of greatness that involves not being able to stop eating them no matter how full you are--and I've had training in resisting food. But one night a few weeks ago, Dan, Megan and I were sitting around the dining room table chatting whilst Meg and I stabbed slice after slice of the home fries, swearing each would be our last.

My mistake in crafting a superior potato, or a superior anything really, is my impatience. I turn up the heat and pan-fry the daylights out of my vegetables because I'm hungry and I want them now. But Dan takes his time, turning down the heat and letting the heat permeate the potatoes before browning the exterior. Then he seasons the fries (with Landry's seasoned salt and pepper) when they're about halfway done. He theorizes that if you season at the beginning you end up salting the oil along with the potatoes. Halfway through, the oil has already seeped into the potatoes, soaking them through and really making that salt stick.

Brussels Sprouts

Just when winter becomes completely unbearable, the Olympic Games come along and totally redeems it. In my book, the Summer Games don't hold a candle to the Winter. I like gymnastics and swimming pretty well, but speed skating, skiing, snowboarding ... all these events and someone is going to fall. Nothing dramatic ever happens in the 100-meter dash. Everyone knew that Jamaican guy was going to take it, and it was awesome when he did. But it was a sure thing. At any moment, the Anton Apolo Ono could wipe out on the ice, two snowboard cross racers could bump boards and be out of the competition, and Shaun White or Lindsey Vaughn could, oh wait, those were both a sure thing.

Men's figure skating has me riveted. I stayed home, curled up under a fleece blanket (not a snuggie) to watch Evan Lysacek and Johnny Weir. My sister and I were incredibly obsessed with figure skating, starting when Tanya Harding's husband planned the attack on Nancy Kerrigan. We would practice our triple axels and salchows in the living room. I got excited about Michelle Kwan and Tara Lipinski, who were all around my age. This year the men's competition is pulling me in. It's the age-old Russian versus USA, we'll see who the champ is tonight.

Before the Olympics, all I had to look forward to each night was some hearty food (yes my life is that focused on food). These Brussels sprouts turned out pretty OK. I should have broiled them with gobs of butter, but they weren't as bad as my mom swears.

Last weekend, I heard the sounds of spring: water melting and running into the gutters and birds chirping--all before it snowed the next day. But I was driving home on the Interstate and saw (gasp) a bird of prey. I wasn't sure which one--I like to focus on driving you know--but I was screaming in my car. I haven't seen any birds since November. Good day, sunshine.

Brussels Sprouts:

To blanch the sprouts, bring a pot of salted water to a boil. Cut a small "x" in the side of the sprouts to help them cook through before plopping them in the bath. Boil for 6 minutes if you're going to braise them later and for12 minutes if you're hungry and want to eat, like, now. When finished, drain and run cold water over them to halt the cooking. I cut mine in half, melted a nob of butter over them, and seasoned them with salt, pepper and parmesan cheese.

To broil, place sprouts in a casserole or fire-proof dish with loads of butter and sprinkled with salt and pepper. Bake in the oven for 30 minutes on 350. Serve sprinkled with parmesan cheese.

Mac and Cheese

Here's the post where I throw everything my mom ever taught me out the window and start whining like the baby I am.

I loathe winter. I'm sick of looking at the bright side of all the snow and cold--reminds us how great summer is, makes for a good growing year--bull. I am nursing a serious case of cabin fever. Every morning, I roll up the blinds to gaze out into my backyard and the snow is still there. I haven't seen the ground, nay half of my driveway, since early December. I get through long days at the office by eating my lunch outside and by taking a mid-afternoon stroll. I haven't done this since November or maybe even October. I raise my angry fist to Mother Nature, I beg for mercy and it has yet to come. I am full-on lusting after spring. I need it. I need green, water running into storm drains, chirping birds, the sun outside my window in the morning, tulips, thunderstorms, asparagus. I would gladly trade 10 tornados for a snowy day.

To compensate for my misery (yes, I use food as a coping mechanism), I've been enjoying quite a bit of comfort food lately. And this here is the creamiest, cheesiest macaroni in existence. The only thing that would make it more comforting is if I ate it while snuggling under a fleece blanket in front of a fireplace. I heard a lot about this mac and cheese from friends before receiving the recipe as a Christmas present. My first instinct is to be a little turned off by the presence of Velvetta--that yellow processed cheese able to be stored at room temperature for eternity without going bad--but man it's so good.

Hansen Family Macaroni and Cheese: from Sarah Baker Hansen
1 1/2 cup large macaroni pasta
2 tablespoons butter
3 tablespoons flour
1 1/2 cup milk
1/2 cup onion, diced
4 ounces Velvetta cheese

Preheat the oven to 350. Meanwhile, bring a pot of salted water to a boil. Cook pasta according to directions (probably about 10 minutes). Drain.

In a separate skillet on medium heat, melt the butter. Add the flour. Stir continuously, the mixture will thicken, bubble and then turn a nutty brown color. Be careful not to burn the flour. Add the milk and onion, continue stirring for a couple minutes until onion has been softened slightly. Add the Velvetta to the skillet, stir until melted. Blend in the pasta, stirring to coat with the cheese. Transfer macaroni and cheese to a casserole and bake for 35 to 40 minutes. Baking it gives the macaroni a nice creamy crust.

The Long Winter

My mom used to read me and my sisters the Little House on the Prairie books before we went to bed. The sixth book in the series is called The Long Winter; I think you can guess the premise. Laura Ingalls-Wilder recounts the winter of 1880 and 1881 during which time the small South Dakota settlement her family lived on was inundated with blizzard after blizzard from October until May. At one point the railroad stopped delivering shipments to the homesteaders (check out this photo taken in March 1881), putting them in real danger of starvation. Children stopped attending school because no one could get there. In the end, two men walked, probably in homemade snowshoes, 12 miles to find a cache of wheat to feed the village. I find it interesting to note that Laura's father knew a long winter was on its way because the muskrats were building nests with thick walls.

I'm reading a book right now called Out of This World by Mary Swander for a class. It's about a woman who lives near a large Amish community in Kalona, Iowa. The book follows a year in seasons, centered on planting, growing, harvesting and storing. I am more than a little inspired to be closer to the ground, like Swander and her Amish neighbors are. They have an intuition about the weather and the earth that does not exist in my life. I wake up to an alarm from my phone, not a rooster's call or the sun's movement (not that I'm complaining about that), I whine about shoveling my puny little driveway, and I carefully drive to work everyday. I'm barely outside at all--though I suppose Laura Ingalls didn't spend much time outdoors during the long winter. I'm just missing it right about now and longing to dig up some ground in a few months. My new career goal is to be an urban farmer.

All this is wholly unrelated to the egg casserole I made for the office "breakfast club" last Friday. I tweaked a recipe from Smitten Kitchen by adding pancetta and broccolini to her already fine egg strata. I wasn't sure how it would go at work with flavorings like nutmeg and Dijon mustard, but it was a winner--I didn't take any of it home with me. In fact, the crunchy broccolini and the smoky/salty pancetta were my favorite parts of this dish--one I had three helpings of. It was nice, too, to roll half-asleep out of bed, fire up the oven and bake something in the blue hours of morning. If I was Amish, these eggs would be from my henhouse, the bread would be home-baked and the vegetables straight from the garden ... maybe someday.

Egg strata, pre-cooked

My coffee resting on the roof of my car; it really was that blue that day.

Egg Casserole: from Smitten Kitchen

6 or 7 slices of bread

1 bunch broccolini
3 tablespoons butter
1/2 cup onion
3 ounces pancetta
1 cup spinach
1/2 teaspoon pepper
1 teaspoon nutmeg
3 ounces parmesan cheese
9 large eggs
2 3/4 cups milk
2 tablespoons Dijon mustard

Grease a 9x13 pan or gratin dish really really well (really, it took a lot of muscle to clean that pan afterward). Pull apart the the bread into 1-inch cubes and arrange enough to just about cover the bottom of the pan. Set aside temporarily.

Coarsely chop the broccolini, pancetta and spinach. Finely chop the onion. Blanch the broccolini by placing it in boiling salted water for 4 minutes, drain and then run cold water over it to stop the cooking. Sprinkle the broccolini over the first layer of bread cubes.

In a skillet, melt the butter. Saute the pancetta for a few minutes before adding the onions. Saute for about 5 minutes, then add salt, pepper and nutmeg. Stir. Add the spinach, allowing it to wilt and then removing the pan from the heat. Pour the butter mixture over the first layer of bread. Grate your parmesan cheese over the pan. Smitten Kitchen also recommends using Gruyere cheese, but I didn't have any and it was more than fine. Pull apart the rest of the bread and arrange on the toppings.

In a mixing bowl, whisk together the eggs, milk and Dijon. Once blended, pour over the of bread and toppings. Store in the fridge overnight (or bake right away). Preheat oven to 350 and bake for 45 to 55 minutes.