Oops, forgot to list out my CSA share this week. I know, I know, skies are falling, stars colliding, explosions near and far over the enormity of this tragedy.
1 giant head green curly-leaf lettuce
1 small head red leaf lettuce
2 small green peppers
5 heirloom tomatoes
2 cucumbers
1 lb yellow potatoes
beets, which I deferred on, since they're repulsive and taste like sweet farts.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Ensalada Mexicana
That salad I spent far too much time on yesterday trying to make the write up entertaining, informative, or at least not so entirely self-indulgent as to alienate my non-existent readers?
Well, today's lunch is it's bastard cousin, or what version I could throw together while cooking last night's dinner (side note--I like to cook two or three things at once. It's challenging, and I'm a spaz, so I have a hard time focusing on just one thing. I prefer a more schizophrenic approach to meal preparation).
As I was slicing a FIL garden cuke for quick pickles, I thinly sliced a section and set it aside. I chopped up a ton of lettuce from this week's CSA share, and pulled the remaining black beans from the aforementioned salad out of the fridge--and spied a lonely single slice of pepperjack cheese, which got minced up and tossed in, along with extra scallions I had pre-chopped due to an excessive scallion chopping bonanza the night before. And, since I'm just sugary sweet, I made two salads so that A wouldn't go hungry at lunch time. With an apple and kimchi---write up coming soon--it was a tasty, fruit-and-veggie filled healthy lunch.
Well, today's lunch is it's bastard cousin, or what version I could throw together while cooking last night's dinner (side note--I like to cook two or three things at once. It's challenging, and I'm a spaz, so I have a hard time focusing on just one thing. I prefer a more schizophrenic approach to meal preparation).
As I was slicing a FIL garden cuke for quick pickles, I thinly sliced a section and set it aside. I chopped up a ton of lettuce from this week's CSA share, and pulled the remaining black beans from the aforementioned salad out of the fridge--and spied a lonely single slice of pepperjack cheese, which got minced up and tossed in, along with extra scallions I had pre-chopped due to an excessive scallion chopping bonanza the night before. And, since I'm just sugary sweet, I made two salads so that A wouldn't go hungry at lunch time. With an apple and kimchi---write up coming soon--it was a tasty, fruit-and-veggie filled healthy lunch.
Monday, September 13, 2010
BBQ Chicken Salad
Ok. I've been sitting here for, on and off, three hours starting and erasing rants and raves about how to intro this salad I made on Friday (my favorite of all salads, widely available in various incarnations at chain restaurants across the country). What I like and don't like about salads-as-meals, how to make a salad not suck, why most of them do, etc. Ad nauseum.
Then I realized, YOU ARE TALKIGN ABOUT SALAD. Like, a bunch of lettuce and toppings dumped in a bowl and topped with a dressing of some sort--certainly not rocket science, and definitely not the frontiers of cooking on which the aforementioned foodies could certainly postulate for hours upon end. Everyone can toss together some sort of salad mixture, open a bottle of hidden valley and call it a day. Any restaurant nowadays has several versions of a meal-sized salad on their menus, reflecting this recent "healthy" "trend." You've all eaten hundreds of lackluster salads, maybe a few great ones here and there, but by and large have been bored by most of them.
There just isn't really much to say about salad. And there, I thought, is the problem. We think they are so common and banal nowadays that we don't think about them, we just throw them together and coat them with something bottled. Now, really, even I admit there is an upper limit--and a low one at that--on how exciting a salad can be. But it can be a lot better than a pale tomato wedge, shredded carrot, and bottled dressing on iceberg.
Instead, tyy to branch out a little bit and throw weird things into a salad. I'm on a crushed tortilla chip kick right now (use them instead of croutons!). Go through the fridge for leftovers and see what you can toss into a bowl of lettuce--beans, cooked veggies, any meat diced up, roasted potatoes, etc. Make your own croutons by tossing bread cubes with garlic oil (or any old oil and spices) salt & pepper and toasting them in the toaster oven (or in a skillet). Likewise, making your own salad dressing is an easy endeavor, and one that everyone should at least try...but I'll never give up the convenience of bottled dressing either.
So, anyway, this is the best write-up I can do today, and it really doesn't do justice to this, my favorite salad, inspired by the BBQ chicken salad at California Pizza Kitchen and the Southwestern Chicken Salad at Rio Bravo, although I certainly don't think these two chains have the market cornered on this fairly common salad incarnation. It mixes in a ton of veggies so it isn't like eating a big pile of lettuce, and with two bottled dressings it couldn't be easier to put together. A little spicy, a lot crunchy, many different flavors going on besides just lettuce and dressing. And, if you're lucky enough to have a father in law with a green thumb, you'll have lots of garden-fresh produce ready to marry together.
And, internet, I apologize for the crappy camera phone shot of it all mixed up. I had this great cobb salad-like shot of all the ingredients piled together, yet separate, in the bowl, but where it went I can't fathom. So this is all you get.
Then I realized, YOU ARE TALKIGN ABOUT SALAD. Like, a bunch of lettuce and toppings dumped in a bowl and topped with a dressing of some sort--certainly not rocket science, and definitely not the frontiers of cooking on which the aforementioned foodies could certainly postulate for hours upon end. Everyone can toss together some sort of salad mixture, open a bottle of hidden valley and call it a day. Any restaurant nowadays has several versions of a meal-sized salad on their menus, reflecting this recent "healthy" "trend." You've all eaten hundreds of lackluster salads, maybe a few great ones here and there, but by and large have been bored by most of them.
There just isn't really much to say about salad. And there, I thought, is the problem. We think they are so common and banal nowadays that we don't think about them, we just throw them together and coat them with something bottled. Now, really, even I admit there is an upper limit--and a low one at that--on how exciting a salad can be. But it can be a lot better than a pale tomato wedge, shredded carrot, and bottled dressing on iceberg.
Instead, tyy to branch out a little bit and throw weird things into a salad. I'm on a crushed tortilla chip kick right now (use them instead of croutons!). Go through the fridge for leftovers and see what you can toss into a bowl of lettuce--beans, cooked veggies, any meat diced up, roasted potatoes, etc. Make your own croutons by tossing bread cubes with garlic oil (or any old oil and spices) salt & pepper and toasting them in the toaster oven (or in a skillet). Likewise, making your own salad dressing is an easy endeavor, and one that everyone should at least try...but I'll never give up the convenience of bottled dressing either. So, anyway, this is the best write-up I can do today, and it really doesn't do justice to this, my favorite salad, inspired by the BBQ chicken salad at California Pizza Kitchen and the Southwestern Chicken Salad at Rio Bravo, although I certainly don't think these two chains have the market cornered on this fairly common salad incarnation. It mixes in a ton of veggies so it isn't like eating a big pile of lettuce, and with two bottled dressings it couldn't be easier to put together. A little spicy, a lot crunchy, many different flavors going on besides just lettuce and dressing. And, if you're lucky enough to have a father in law with a green thumb, you'll have lots of garden-fresh produce ready to marry together.
And, internet, I apologize for the crappy camera phone shot of it all mixed up. I had this great cobb salad-like shot of all the ingredients piled together, yet separate, in the bowl, but where it went I can't fathom. So this is all you get.
Friday, September 10, 2010
Granola
That said, I really do like the Bear Naked brand of granola that my mom introduced me to.
So, assuming you're still with me here, and assuming that you want to try to make your own granola after my thoroughly convincing and sensible rant up there, you basically need to remember a basic formula, which is basically how I make anything: do it until it looks right. Is that helpful or what?
Let's try to explain that above a kindergarten level. I usually start with 3 cups of whole oats (not instant). Then I start adding in dry ingredients--coconut flakes, chopped nuts (almonds are particularly good), puffed rice, various seeds (sesame or sunflower), or other grains--another 1-2 cups total. I go ahead and stir in my dried fruit in right now as well, about another cup, although if using raisins I reserve them until almost or after done baking, otherwise they get a little caramelized and tough.
Once everything is stirred together, you want about a 1:5 ratio of liquid to solids, give or take (some would probably argue closer to a 1:4 or 1:3 ratio, which would make a "clumpier" granola, but I would rather keep the calories down a bit where I can). A lot of commercial granolas use oil as the primary liquid, and this is where you really can take liberties and make it more healthful. Honey and maple syrup are excellent substitutes for a good deal of the oil. I always use about 1/4 cup of brown sugar, but I've been tempted to try molasses and see what happens then. And, sugar counts as a wet ingredient in baking, so i count it in the liquid ratio here. When you mix the liquids into the solids, you want a dampish mixture, not overly wet. Then add any spices and about 1/2 tsp salt. Bake, cool, and enjoy! More formal recipe after the jump.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
And fall comes back in a day
What is with the weather? An 85-and-cloudless sunny day one special weekend (we did!) and 60 and breezy the next. Then 80 again, then 60 again. And the nights? The nights are COLD...at 55 degrees (ask me in January what my perception of cold is, OK?)
I love it. I know, the above seemed "complainy." But the fall is the best of all seasons. Who doesn't love pulling on a sweater for the first time, getting a blanket back on the bed, hearing the leaves crunching underfoot, watching football, eating chili, starting bonfires, and any other iconic fall image? Don't even get me started on how much I love midwesterny thrills like pumpkin carving (PUMPKIN SEEDS! YOU ARE ALMOST HERE!) and apple orchards (apple cider, cider donuts). See, fall brings in a whole new wave of foods...not to mention halloween candy and THANKSGIVING.
But I'm already digressing. The fall weather we're getting our first taste of has me thinking about fall flavors--squashes, baked casseroles, braised meats, earthy root veggies, and the like. I've had this recipe torn out for the better part of a year--it comes from Bon Appetit's Thanksgiving issue as a suggestion for a meat-free dish to put on a vegetarian holiday table (specifically, from the column by Molly Wizenberg of Orangette). It just looked goooooood--butternut squash, kale, and a mustard-wine custard mixture all baked into a savory bread pudding. Or stuffing, or dressing, as it's called in these here parts. All those fall flavors in a hearty, one-dish meal. I had to have it.
But then I read a few things that freaked me out. Two-and-a-half cups of cream? Good lord. How many extra steps before baking? 10 cups of bread? Seven eggs? Suddenly I realized why it was in the Thanksgiving issue, when indulgences are basically mandatory, and not an everyday, easy vegetarian section. Because, seriously. Three cups of cream in 6 servings? I can't even pretend that I'm going to make it. Order it in a restaurant, maybe, where I can be willfully ignorant of how much fat I'm eating, but in my own kitchen? No. My fat ethics won't let me.
So I adapted the recipe. It's basically similar, but different enough that I'm going to post it as sorta my own. But Molly, darling, all the credit goes to you. I just don't want all the credit to go to my paunch. Here's the original recipe in all its glory on Epicurious.com (and you can read a bunch of comments there, although I've always found the advice on them rather hit-or-miss).
In addition to lowering the fat content significantly, I changed up some ingredients. I didn't have kale, only chard, and it was very, very wilted. I had 1/2 lb of creminis to use up, and thought their earthiness would play right into the flavors going on in here. And the amount of bread just seemed too hefty. I really, really liked the result, and honestly can't imagine how indulgent the full version would taste (although maybe on Thanksgiving I'll find out...) It's hearty and satisfying, but with the squash and chard it has enough veg going on that it doesn't feel too heavy. My adapted version after the jump.A retro kind of day
Foodies. Just saying this moniker conjures a bunch of people with too much time on their hands musing about "mouthfeel" and "flavor nuances" and turning their noses up at anything that isn't inscrutably authentic or snobbishly highbrow. They imagine themselves to be thoughtful, sharp critics and think it is their personal responsibility to tell everyone what the best food is. And, should you disagree, well, then, you would just be wrong--and they would be aghast they that know such a person whose un-evolved tastes allow them to enjoy peasant fodder like a regular hot dog from a neighborhood stand.
These people are perverse. Seriously. Food is nourishment, not the acme of cultural awareness. That we as an American culture are, by and large, privileged enough to have more food than we could ever want doesn't mean we have to be dicks about it, debating the merits of one gourmet cupcake over the next while people fight for grains of rice the world over. And, come on, food tastes differently to different people, and taste has no bearing on class or intelligence or status. There is no best taco. There is no best pizza. If there were, we'd only need one ubiquitous restaurant serving each--and unless you think McDonalds is the best burger or Starbucks is the best coffee, the sheer diversity of restaurants, cuisines, food trucks, convenience foods, farmers markets, CSAs, and countless other food ventures should tell you that lots of people have lots of opinions and lots of favorites about what they like to eat.
I've been called a foodie before. For the record, I hate that word. I just like to eat. Really, I just think foodies are making it hard for people, like me, to like to eat and like to cook and like to talk about food to do all of these liking things without getting lumped into the en masse of food blowhards. This reminds me of a Mitch Hedburg joke: "I'm not a boating enthusiast. I'm just a guy who likes to boat."
So now that that's off my chest, I can confess that I'm pretty much an anti-foodie (surprise) and really, I don't love gourmet too much. I like food to be simple; to taste like its ingredients; to be recognizable; to be satisfying in taste, wholesomeness, emotionally. Yes, emotionally. Sharing meals with people is a basic rite of humanity, and it remains a deeply human way to bond with people.
And I also love trashy food. Like, fast food, junk food, 1950s food--jello molds, soup-mix dips, mayonnaise-laden salads. They taste like comfort to me. As does my tangy Macaroni Salad, which I made last week to just have on hand. It's totally 1950s--really, most macaroni salads are 1950s--and I say that absolutely endearingly. I almost never order macaroni deli salads, because they are never as good as I want them to be--as good as this one, or at least as good as I find this one to be. But people love it! Foodies might call this a guilty pleasure--but I say, there should be no guilt about it. It's just good, so get the gourmet chip off your shoulder and dig in like the rest of us (and, at my house, that's usually in front of the fridge, with a fork, eating right out of the container). And, like usual, it didn't last long. JUMP!
These people are perverse. Seriously. Food is nourishment, not the acme of cultural awareness. That we as an American culture are, by and large, privileged enough to have more food than we could ever want doesn't mean we have to be dicks about it, debating the merits of one gourmet cupcake over the next while people fight for grains of rice the world over. And, come on, food tastes differently to different people, and taste has no bearing on class or intelligence or status. There is no best taco. There is no best pizza. If there were, we'd only need one ubiquitous restaurant serving each--and unless you think McDonalds is the best burger or Starbucks is the best coffee, the sheer diversity of restaurants, cuisines, food trucks, convenience foods, farmers markets, CSAs, and countless other food ventures should tell you that lots of people have lots of opinions and lots of favorites about what they like to eat.
I've been called a foodie before. For the record, I hate that word. I just like to eat. Really, I just think foodies are making it hard for people, like me, to like to eat and like to cook and like to talk about food to do all of these liking things without getting lumped into the en masse of food blowhards. This reminds me of a Mitch Hedburg joke: "I'm not a boating enthusiast. I'm just a guy who likes to boat."
So now that that's off my chest, I can confess that I'm pretty much an anti-foodie (surprise) and really, I don't love gourmet too much. I like food to be simple; to taste like its ingredients; to be recognizable; to be satisfying in taste, wholesomeness, emotionally. Yes, emotionally. Sharing meals with people is a basic rite of humanity, and it remains a deeply human way to bond with people.
And I also love trashy food. Like, fast food, junk food, 1950s food--jello molds, soup-mix dips, mayonnaise-laden salads. They taste like comfort to me. As does my tangy Macaroni Salad, which I made last week to just have on hand. It's totally 1950s--really, most macaroni salads are 1950s--and I say that absolutely endearingly. I almost never order macaroni deli salads, because they are never as good as I want them to be--as good as this one, or at least as good as I find this one to be. But people love it! Foodies might call this a guilty pleasure--but I say, there should be no guilt about it. It's just good, so get the gourmet chip off your shoulder and dig in like the rest of us (and, at my house, that's usually in front of the fridge, with a fork, eating right out of the container). And, like usual, it didn't last long. JUMP!
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Fall is finally here...
and, to celebrate its arrival, I'm trying to squeeze in as much summer fun into these last few warm weeks. Which partly accounts for why I've missed my CSA pickup for two weeks running...shameful shrug...alas, sometimes you just can't win them all.
So, as a result, instead of the Mustard-Rosemary Roasted Chicken with Carrots and Potatoes I planned to make last night (doesn't that name and the warm, woodsy, spicy flavors it implies conjure up images of turned leaves and crisp air?), I turned on the grill and clung to my bottle of BBQ sauce, abandoning my fall roasting for one of the last turns at the grill I'll have this year. Well, that's not entirely true, considering I will grill in all seasons, but when it isn't summer grilling just isn't the same. (BTW, the recipe looked nice and meaty--nothing green in sight, Aunt L!!--but I couldn't find it to link to. It was from Martha Stewart Living and was very simple--chicken thighs, whole carrots and halved red potatoes tossed with olive oil, rosemary, garlic and Dijon mustard; salted and peppered; and roasted on a single pan until all done. Mmmm.....I'll have to come back to that.)
Thus, new cooking method decided, I was at a loss for how to round out the din-din. I spied a aging head of broccoli in the back, and some getting-to-be overly ripe yellow pear tomatoes on the counter, and a recent fondness for better-made deli salads (1950s macaroni salad recipe coming soon!!) and I realized that it was all about Broccoli Salad today. MMMMMMM. Sorry, it's green, but it has bacon in it, so that un-greens it a little.
I looked up a few recipes, realized how god-forsakenly simple they were, so I plowed ahead and made my own....after the jump! Served with BBQ chicken and grilled tomato bread (lightly brush hearty bread slices with olive oil; grill, then rub a tomato quarter on one side to get all the seeds and juices all over it; salt & enjoy. Sounds weird, and maybe it is, but tomato bread is common in Spain and just as delicious on this side of the pond). Doesn't that all just taste like summer? MMMM.
So, as a result, instead of the Mustard-Rosemary Roasted Chicken with Carrots and Potatoes I planned to make last night (doesn't that name and the warm, woodsy, spicy flavors it implies conjure up images of turned leaves and crisp air?), I turned on the grill and clung to my bottle of BBQ sauce, abandoning my fall roasting for one of the last turns at the grill I'll have this year. Well, that's not entirely true, considering I will grill in all seasons, but when it isn't summer grilling just isn't the same. (BTW, the recipe looked nice and meaty--nothing green in sight, Aunt L!!--but I couldn't find it to link to. It was from Martha Stewart Living and was very simple--chicken thighs, whole carrots and halved red potatoes tossed with olive oil, rosemary, garlic and Dijon mustard; salted and peppered; and roasted on a single pan until all done. Mmmm.....I'll have to come back to that.)Thus, new cooking method decided, I was at a loss for how to round out the din-din. I spied a aging head of broccoli in the back, and some getting-to-be overly ripe yellow pear tomatoes on the counter, and a recent fondness for better-made deli salads (1950s macaroni salad recipe coming soon!!) and I realized that it was all about Broccoli Salad today. MMMMMMM. Sorry, it's green, but it has bacon in it, so that un-greens it a little.
I looked up a few recipes, realized how god-forsakenly simple they were, so I plowed ahead and made my own....after the jump! Served with BBQ chicken and grilled tomato bread (lightly brush hearty bread slices with olive oil; grill, then rub a tomato quarter on one side to get all the seeds and juices all over it; salt & enjoy. Sounds weird, and maybe it is, but tomato bread is common in Spain and just as delicious on this side of the pond). Doesn't that all just taste like summer? MMMM.
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