Things I Don't Want to Eat

Stonewall Kitchen's Marscapone Cheesecake

2011-10-17T10:20:00.000-07:00

Yes, I know I'm supposed to be doing smoothies, but the next smoothie recipe calls for stewed prunes and I'm avoiding it. You know you would do the same in my position.

Instead, I have been trying to do recipes that involve using up items that are lurking around my cabinets/fridge and need to be used up. As both my dad and friends have sent me gifts featuring Stonewall Kitchen goodies, and Stonewall Kitchen so kindly has recipes corresponding to each and every one of their goodies, I have been making a dent in the backlog of jams and jellies and whatnots I've got hiding around. I suppose if I were a big jam eater, this wouldn't be an issue as I'd just so daily toast-avec-jams for breakfast, but I'm not, so it's recipe heaven.

As a cheesecake fan, and someone who is easily lured by fancy words, I opted to try their Marscapone Cheesecake with Bittersweet Chocolate Swirl recipe, and it was so goddamn good, not only did I have to blog it, I actually made it again a week later.

The long and the short of it is this: I love cheesecake. I have tried many times to make cheesecake as good as the stuff you get in restaurants. They have always turned out fine, but not amazing. Until now.

This recipe is insane. It is ridiculously delicious. It is also a little confusing, which caused me to mess a couple of things up, but I have figured out what they mean. Also I have realized that the way they use the chocolate sauce, you can use the recipe to just make an unbelievable plain cheesecake or one flavored with really anything else. Hence, when I did it again for a housewarming party last weekend I put in strawberry jam instead of chocolate sauce, and I am thinking of doing it with their blueberry jam for Thanksgiving.

Anyhow, without further ado, the best cheesecake recipe you will ever see.

Behold.

Marscapone Cheesecake with Bittersweet Chocolate Swirl*

*(or with Strawberry Swirl in the picture)

Bottom Crust:

3/4 cup all-purpose flour

1/4 cup confectioners sugar

1/4 cup finely ground toasted pecans

1/2 cup cold unsalted butter (or salted, because I often prefer salted)

Filling:

16 oz cream cheese, room temp (I mean, or not)

16 oz Marscapone cheese, room temp (does the temp really matter?)

1 1/4 cups white sugar

1/8 tsp salt

4 lg eggs, room temp

2 lg egg yolks

1 1/2 tsp vanilla

1 1/2 tsp fresh lemon juice

1 12 oz jar Stonewall Kitchen Bittersweet Chocolate Sauce (or whatevs)

Bottom Crust:

1. In your amazing new food processor, combine flour, sugar, and pecans. Pulse briefly (i.e., until the pecans, which you put in whole, are chopped up. You could have put them in the nut chopper and ground them, but they were just gonna get ground in the food processor, so why the extra step?). Add unsalted butter. Wonder what the difference is between unsalted and salted butter. I mean, obviously the difference is the salt, but what is the difference taste wise? Pulse until mixture resembles fine crumbs, or rather go way past this point the first time and discover that quickly it goes from fine crumbs to moist buttery balls of would-be dough. Realize you should stop before this point.

2. Preheat oven to 350 F. Shouldn't this be step #1?

3. Line the bottom of a 9" springform pan with foil. Second time try this with wax paper, and determine that works better. Either way, butter it.

4. Press crust mixture evenly into the bottom of the pan. Not up the sides, goofball. This isn't a pie. This is a cheesecake. Crust just is on the bottom. Throw out the first try with the over-blended crust dough that you spread up the sides like a moron, do a second batch correctly, and press it just into the bottom of the pan. Lovely. Bake for 20-25 minutes, until lightly golden.

5. Butter sides of pan when cool.

Filling:

(which, it must be noted, I find you should start working on once the crust it out and cooling)

1. Increase oven temp to 500F. Be surprised your oven goes to 500F.

2. In an attempt to use all of your large kitchen items, now switch from the food processor to the mixer, onto which you should put your paddle attachment. Beat cream cheese until broken up, which, is basically redundant if you are using whipped cream cheese (versus block) that is at room temp. But whatevs. Just mix it a bit.

3. Scrape beater and sides of bowl (duh). Add salt and half of the sugar; beat until combined. Think about how annoying the paddle attachment is. Scrape sides of bowl again (duh) and add remaining sugar. Or forget this part until the very end right before you pour it into the bowl. It works then, too, thank heavens. Beat until smooth and fluffy, which is nice because the smoother and fluffier it gets the less annoying the paddle is.

4. Add Marscapone, lemon juice and vanilla. Beat at low speed until just blended. Check.

5. Scrape bowl (seriously?) and add yolks, which means they also want you to separate the eggs, but apparently although they have to walk you through every time you scrape the bowl, they are going to assume you know that part. Beat at low speed until blended.

6. Add whole eggs, two at a time, beating just until blended after each addition. Oooh, this is starting to look creamy.

7. Place pan on cookie sheet, although you will never know why. Why? Reserve 1 1/2 cups of the filling, pour the remainder of the filling into (onto?) the crust.

8. Heat the Bittersweet Chocolate Sauce until lukewarm - which is their way of saying in its room temp state it is a pretty firm/immovable glob. If you just heat it for like 30 seconds on the stove it loosens up and becomes a much more workable viscosity. Hooray big words!

Stir 1/2 cup of chocolate sauce into the reserved filling. Place dollops of chocolate filling on top of the cake.

9. Drag a knife through the chocolate dollops creating a swirl pattern.

9.5 Spend a long time puzzling over instructions 8 and 9 because they are poorly worded. Realize ultimately that it appears they want you to waste all but that half cup of the chocolate sauce, and pour just that half cup in with the filling, and then use that new cheesecake/chocolate mixture to make the globs which you will then drag through. I have since tried this in various permutations, including doing a three-layer thing with the strawberry jam - bottom layer = pure cheesecake onto which I poured the entire strawberry/cheesecake mix, onto which I put globs of pure strawberry jam that I dragged through. The good news is, at this point the stuff is so good basically any of these options will work.

10. Bake 10 minutes @ 500F, then reduce temp to 200F and continue to bake for about 1 1/2 hours. Do not open the oven door during the cooking process! (Okay!!). Cheesecake should be golden on top and center is almost set, to which I say it's kind of hard to really manage both of those in my oven. After 1.5 hrs the outside is turning a nice brown more than golden, but the inside is still a little too jiggly. I would do this part more by eye than time - def make sure the center is nearly set.

11. Cool on a rack, which seems weird given that it's still in it's springform, but whatevs. When cool, refrigerate covered overnight, or if you're me, for a few hours during the afternoon so you can eat it that night.

Not sure when Scrapy Von Scraperton wants you to take off the springform bits, but I leave it in the springform int he fridge and only spring it from the springform at serving time.

12. Garnish with chocolate shavings and drizzles of the leftover chocolate sauce so I guess you're not entirely wasting it. Please note this is where I A. unleash the springform and then B. slide if off the buttered wax paper onto a prettier plate. The buttered wax paper worked way better for this than the buttered foil, FYI.

13. Take to party and watch people repeatedly roll their eyes back in their head when they eat it and then swear at you that it's too good and have an entirely room of them bid you adieu as the cheesecake lady upon your extremely triumphant exit. This shit is good. Enjoy.

Guava Gulp

2011-08-11T13:02:00.000-07:00

So. I've been a little laissez-faire about the diet lately, mostly owing to the fact that we've been tiling my office, which I have taken to mean I'm burning lots of calories, given the amount of sweat pouring off me as I lug heavy tiles around and contort myself to get them into place. Practically what this translates to is me not going to the gym, not really tracking what I'm eating very carefully, and then giving myself a satisfied pat on the back when I do my weekly weigh in and discover another pound or so gone.

But don't get too irritated. First, the tiling was hard ass work. And it's also done (side note: it came out great, but that's a different blog), which means I'm back to my hardcore sedentary desk-monkey ways. Which means that, especially in light of the cheese-fest I just had for lunch, those trips to the gym are back in my future.

Anyhow. Yesterday I had a slightly late and definitely enormous Indian buffet lunch on which I stuffed myself silly. Then I had sewing class at 6:30. But while I was by no means hungry that early, the class was going to take all night and therefore leave me starving. SO, I made the next smoothie on the prospect that it was light and portable, so I could take it to class and maybe even convince myself to eat it.

The next smoothie in the book was the Guava Gulp, and unlike some predecessors I'd had a fairly easy time finding the requisite guava nectar and mangoes at the grocery, so I had everything on hand and properly cut up and frozen or what have you.

I am not very well-versed in the ways of guava and mango. I'm not sure if I've had guava before; in fact, my main experience with it is that for reasons I no longer remember it was the nickname of a rather unsavory man my friend* once went out with.** And as for mangoes, my feelings for them can generally be summed up as: eh. So with them as the star attractions of this smoothie, I wasn't sure how it was going to come out.

How it came out was yet another thick yellowy shake in a long line of thick yellowy shakes. There were no great disasters as far as the actually smoothie-making went, save for the fact that for a time the unblended fruit was stubbornly sticking at the top and as I was making half the recipe, I had to somehow try to figure out how to measure out some wacky amount of guava nectar. But I prevailed.

However, I was running rather late for sewing by the time I did so, so there were only really quick photos to be had. Photos like this:

Yellow in blender.

And this:

Yellow in portable container.

I put it in a travel cup thing whatever hoohoo given out by Josh's union, so I could both advertise the union and make sure I got my smoothie with maximal plastic chemical leakage flavoring. Unfortunately, as the cup was see-through, I thought it looked kind of less than appetizing (there may be a reason Jamba Juice has opaque cups), so I mostly just sucked down what I could in the car and then left it there to make fruit flies jealous they couldn't get at it.

As for the smoothie itself, it was part generic bright! fruit! type flavor (guava/mango/lime juice I would guess) and part banana-y. Sadly, the banana part was the overwhelming part. I say sadly because I am not a big banana person, and I prefer at best for it to be hinted at, not overtaking. Which might be why I left the majority of it in the car and decided to tough it out during sewing.

I was going to say something like, it was fine, I prob won't make it again, though. Then I started to write out the recipe and realized that while I halved the rest of the recipe, I forgot to halve the amount of banana. Which would explain things.

Guava Gulp (or Guava Get-Left-Behind)

1 1/4 cups guava nectar

2 tsp fresh lime juice

2 cups diced fresh mango, frozen

1 fresh banana, frozen & sliced

I mean, they can tell you this and that, but really throw it all into the blender and mix. My handy-dandy calculations say: 509 calories, serves 2.

*Kristin. I'm lucky she still likes me after this.
**I may have set her up with him.

Peach Smoothie Redux

2011-07-13T12:20:00.000-07:00

Well, that was quite a break, huh? Months have gone by, things have happened. That fence on which the passion fruit vine pictured in the previous entry collapsed in a retaining wall fiasco, I successfully took off 10 lbs with that fancy diet of mine and then went on vacation and put half of it right back on.

But now, life is simmering down again. And I am trying to get back to my dietous ways. Unfortunately, the smoothie portion of this plan was temporarily stymied by a new blender we got. Josh succumbed to some tantalizing online advertising for this ninja blender and the next thing you know we are the proud owners of this guy:

Hi-YA!

Which is all well and good, except for the fact that for several months I refused to use it because I was afraid of getting it wrong/didn't want to learn how it worked. Perhaps with logic like this you understand why I needed a project like blogging my way through a cookbook to have any prayer at making any of the recipes.

Anyhow, I finally faced my fears and gave it a whirl on my own, and what do you know, it is ridiculously easy. Not that Josh wasn't telling me this all along, but still, a girl's entitled to be a little irrational once in a while.

For my attempt, I did a redo on the Peach Smoothie, this time with the pineapple properly frozen. And I can confirm as previously suspected that freezing the pineapple makes all the difference in the world in terms of stringiness (or blissfully, lack thereof). The resultant smoothie looks an awful lot like the previous one, possibly thicker:

I was too excited to eat this to make it look less messy for the photo.

And possibly messier, but substantially more delicious now that the stringiness issue was resolved. It was more of an eat with a spoon than a straw affair, which is always fine by me.

In fact I made it again since this photo was taken. Quite tasty. The only issue is you need a very small amount of the nectar, so you are basically wasting a can unless you have lots of people to make it for. Hmph. Same stats as before apply, you just need to freeze the pineapple. The end.

Peach Smoothie

2011-01-19T12:58:00.000-08:00

So. It's been a little while. This isn't because I am ignoring my diet. This IS because the next smoothie in the book was an impossible one to find the ingredients for.

In their infinite wisdom, the Weird Sisters decided that the third smoothie should be "Passion!" Which is to say: a passion fruit smoothie. Which is to say: impossible to find the ingredients for.

The ladies call for both passion fruit nectar or juice, as well as passion fruit sorbet. As it turns out, these ingredients are not only just hard to come by, but I would say impossible. That is to say, I went to grocery after grocery -- ghetto, gelsons, you name it -- and nothing. You can find mango sorbet. Blood orange, sure. But passion fruit? No no no.

Here is the odd thing: We actually have a passion fruit vine in our yard. I know this because Josh posted a picture of this weirdo creepy alien flower that grows on this vine every year on our nasty chain link fence between us and our neighbors. We had no idea what it was, but thanks to the interwebs, seconds later we knew it was the passion flower from the passion fruit vine. Which would explain the weirdo sad orange teardrop shaped looking things that erupt on the vine after the flowers.

Audrey III

However, as A. It's January and the vine isn't blooming or fruiting, B. I wouldn't know how to convert the fruit into the juice and/or sorbet it calls for, and most importantly C. I may be the only person in the world who just so happens to have a passion fruit vine growing on her fence (save for my neighbors on the other side of the fence), where do the Weird Sisters expect people to get this passion fruit and/or passion fruit flavored ingredients?

At this point, I am suspecting Whole Foods might be the answer, but that isn't close by. So, I decided peach would have to be a decent substitute. After all, I like peach.

So. I got peach nectar and peach sorbet in lieu of the passion fruit and went for it. The result? Well, let's just say I forgot to freeze the pineapple required, which may or may not have tanked the whole operation. On the flavor front, the smoothie was tasty as can be. On the texture front, however, it was a massive fail. I kept pulling pulpy strands of pineapple like errant disturbing hairs from my mouth with every gulp. The flavor was good enough that I'm going to hope that freezing the pineapple is the trick to it, so I'll give it another go. But if not, then my proclamation is passion or peach, this one is a dud.

To be determined

Peach-Passion-Pineapple-Problems

3/4 cup plain kefir (what?) or plain low-fat yogurt (yes)
1/2 cup peach nectar (yes) or juice (no)
1 1/2 cups fresh diced pineapple, frozen (whoops. try again next time).
3/4 cup peach sorbet

Pour the yogurt & nectar into a blender. Add the pineapple and sorbet. Blend until smooth.

Serves: 2

Rough calorie estimate: 227/serving

"Dangerously Red" Smoothie

2011-01-03T11:47:00.000-08:00

All right, my first venture into non-standard smoothie land, called the "Dangerously Red" smoothie by the Weird Sisters, a strawberry/raspberry one by any other normal human being. It's raspberries and strawberries plus some strawberry yogurt and cranberry juice. It came out just as spoon-requiringly thick as the last smoothie, (which I'm going to guess will be a theme with these girls' recipes), but good--albeit seedy.

Thanks to my trusty Livestrong calculator, I can tell you the calorie count on this one is around 384/serving, which is a little high for what I would like to be a low-cal snack, but I'm starting to discover those may be harder to find than the mythical island of Atlantis.

Adorable dog looking out the window for his
walker in the background not included.

"Dangerously Red" (aka Raspberry-Strawberry) Smoothie

1 cup low fat strawberry yogurt
1/2 cup cranberry juice
1 1/2 cups hulled and quartered fresh strawberries, frozen
1 cup fresh raspberries, frozen

Serves: 2

Smoothie Classico

2010-12-27T09:59:00.000-08:00

I am currently on a quest to be a little bit less of a porkchop than I have become. So far, despite starting to go to the gym and paying some attention to what I eat for the first time in my life, the results are: slow.

I have lost about five pounds thus far, which is exciting--I'm not sure I've actually ever lost any weight before in my life--the scale has basically always been a one-way-street. However, as I've A. set my handy-dandy Livestrong online weight loss calculator to have me losing 1 lb/week and have been doing a fairly decent (not 100%, but still) job of sticking to things and B. have been doing this for a couple of months now, you'd expect maybe I would have lost more than five lbs.

This may be because last week when I was fiddling with said handy-dandy weight loss calculator, it suddenly realized I should be eating more like 1400 calories/day instead of 1800. I'm not certain why it had this stunning realization; it had the same info in it now as it did before, but voila, there you go.

Anyhow, as a pretty champion eater, I have discovered that 1800 calories/day is pretty hard to manage, so I'm not looking forward to 1400. First of all, I have a tendency to try to eat as lightly as I can all day so I can pig out at dinner. I'm pretty sure this isn't how it's supposed to work, but more importantly: at 1800 cals/day I get hungry--a lot. What do you do when you get hungry?! Josh says you just deal with it for a few weeks and eventually it subsides. I think this is crazy.

What this is a long way of saying is: I've been on a search for low-calorie, filling snacks since I find myself getting ravenous between meals. My current plan is: smoothies.

I mean, they're basically just fruit and yogurt. And sure, that's sugar, but still, it's pretty good for you and I'm hoping at least some of them are less calorific than my more preferred cheese and crackers type snacks. Plus, Josh is really great at making them, and I often have him make them for me and they do a good job of tiding me over for hours.

The problem with that is: I can't very well have Josh come home from work all the time to make me smoothies whenever I get the yen. I can, however, work my way through a smoothie book I got him (one I think I saw at Jamba Juice, might I add). One that I'm pretty sure he never used because he has an innate knowledge of smoothies that supersedes any silly book.

I, however, do not have that innate knowledge. But I have the book. Specifically: Smoothies: 50 Recipes for High-Energy Refreshment by Mary Corpening Barber, Sara Corpening, and Lori Lyn Narlock. And last Friday before we headed down to San Diego for our Xmas festivities, I took the book out for its maiden spin: "Smoothie Classico."

"Smoothie Classico" is your basic banana-strawberry-orange smoothie. In so doing, I learned the following things:

1. The Corpening sisters and their buddy Ms. Narlock like to give their smoothies weird, cutesy names. Is this because they are weird, cutesy people? Is this because they think it will make the book sell better? I'm guessing both. They are, after all, the type of women who write a smoothie book. Anyway, we're all going to have to struggle to ignore their stupid names during this voyage.

2. The ladies also have a weird predilection for buying fresh fruit and then freezing it in order to blend it for the smoothie. Why? Why is buying it fresh and then freezing it any better than just buying the frozen fruit? Why does the fruit need to be frozen at all for smoothie-fication? Can't it just be fresh?

Questions questions, so many questions these ladies leave me with. At this point, as a smoothie novice I am just doing their bidding, which means going to the grocery, buying fruit, and then feeling silly as you prepare it per their weirdo specifications ("peel banana, freeze it whole, then slice the frozen banana before blending"). I'm pretty sure it's just some sort of bizarre eating disorder sorority group-think cult decision and not actually going to make the smoothie any better, but for now I'm giving it a shot. The upshots being that it takes lots of extra time and forethought to make sure you've doctored up and frozen all the fruit well before you could know you want a smoothie, and at least banana-wise, slicing frozen versus fresh seems to really greatly enhance your chances of cutting off a finger, so that's always good.

Also: I'm pretty sure my blender is pissed at the frozen fresh fruit business, too, as it all but refused to work when I was mixing up this guy. It looked at me like, "Why? Haven't I been good to you?" but I persisted and finally it gave in and blended, but it's looking like the Weird Sisters' smoothies might be the death of it.

Anyhow, to the smoothie (or "Smoothie Classico") itself: It was good--your usual, traditional strawberry banana flavor smoothie--with the caveat that it was thick as all get out. So thick, in face, it needed eating with a spoon and not sipping like a drink. Quite surprising given that there wasn't anything I would imagine is a thickening agent in it--just fruit and OJ. I suspect that was the result of the fresh-frozen business, actually. As for me, I was fine with it, kind of liked it even. Josh prefers his smoothies less thick, so maybe we are in opposite world.

Eat me if you dare.

"Smoothie Classico"

1 cup orange juice
1 cup hulled and quartered fresh strawberries, frozen (why? we don't know!)
2 fresh bananas, frozen and sliced (ideally without part of your thumb)

Pour the OJ into a blender. Add the strawberries and bananas. Blend until smooth.

Serves: 2

Calories: ? Of course the Weird Sisters don't tell us the calorie count. Why would they help us like that? Luckily, I can enter the info into my trusty, overspecific Livestrong calorie calculator and tell you that the calories are somewhere in the neighborhood of 250/serving. Not horrible, not amazing, either.

Mushroom-Sauced Roast Beef

2010-12-22T12:44:00.000-08:00

My father's mother was not a famously amazing cook. She wasn't horrible, but she wasn't incredible. She was mostly somewhere in the middle.

As I spent a lot of time at my grandmother's when I was growing up, I certainly ate a lot of stuff she cooked, but the stuff that stays with me the most was the holiday stuff. Typically on Jewish holidays we'd get brisket. I am not a fan of brisket.

But sometimes, every so often, she'd do a roast beef instead. I don't know what the reasons were for one or the other, but I have a clear preference. I also have a clear memory of perhaps the last time she made roast beef, and her accidentally spilling the bowl of roast potatoes all over everyone. Oh, Nanny, we miss you.

I never asked Nanny how she made her roast beef--I didn't develop any aptitude or interest for the kitchen until after she was gone--but fortunately one day I hit upon the Mushroom-Sauced Roast Beef recipe in the Better Homes & Gardens cookbook, and it's close enough IMO to fit the bill. It's also ridiculously simple.

It also comes with a nice recipe for gravy, which it turns out is really easy to make. I understand the convenience of buying it in a can, but making it from scratch isn't hard, so that's the way I go. I recently made the roast for Josh's parents when they came to visit a couple of weekends ago.

Did I remember to take a picture of the roast beef? No I did not. I did take some pictures of his parents, though. So here's one of those:

A traditional Christmas.

In absence of any proper photos of the roast beef how I make it, I will purloin some from the net. Basically, you want to wind up with a thickly-sliced Sunday roast sort of thing, like so:

Mmm beef.

Except the gravy is also thicker, and, as the name implies, mushroomy. Like so:

Except probably thicker and more luscious,

as I cadged this pic from Weight Watchers.

BH&G recommends serving it with mashed potatoes, which I often do, much to Josh's potato-hating chagrin. I'll let you figure out how to make mashed potatoes for yourself. But as for the roast beef and gravy, here you go. We miss you, Nanny.

The most Nanny-esque Mushroom-Sauced Roast Beef I Can Find

The beef:
1 2-3 lb beef eye of round roast
2 tbsp Dijon-style mustard
1/2 tsp coarsely ground pepper

The gravy
3 cups quartered fresh mushrooms
4 green onions (AKA scallions), bias-sliced into 1/2" pieces (or, you know, just sliced however)
1 clove garlic, minced
2 tbsp margarine or butter
1/4 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 tsp dried thyme or marjoram, crushed (I prefer marjoram - thyme can have such a strong taste)
1 1/2 cups beef broth
1/4 cup light cream or milk

Trim fat from meat. Or, forget to trim fat from meat.

Mix mustard and pepper. Rub onto meat.

Place meat on rack in a shallow roasting pan, or else just into a shallow roasting pan because you have no rack. Racks are for pussies. Or for people who know more about it than me. Whatever.

Insert a meat thermometer, which means fussing around your 300 meat thermometers to find the one that works. Roast in a 325 degree oven 'til thermometer registers 140 degrees for medium rare, which should be 1 1/2 to 2 hours, but initially seems much quicker because the top of the thermometer is touching the hot rack. Change around thermometers again. Note: If you are crazy and want medium do until 155 degrees (1 3/4 to 2 1/4 hrs).

Cover with foil; let stand for 15 minutes before carving, during which time the meat's temp should rise about 5 degrees and the meat itself should get kinda cool, which makes me sad because somehow it always feels like it should be warmer when I serve it.

Meanwhile, for sauce, in a medium saucepan cook mushrooms, green onions, and garlic in hot margarine 'til green onions are tender.

Stir in flour and thyme/marjoram, which makes it kinda roux-like. Yup, you just said roux. Boo-ya.

Gradually stir in beef broth. Cook and stir over medium heat 'til thickened and bubbly. Cook and stir for 1 minute more.

Stir in light cream/milk. Cook and stir 'til heated through. Wonder why the BH&G peeps like the word "'til" so much.

Remove meat thermometer and thinly slice meat across the grain and arrange on a serving platter. Or have Josh do this part. When Josh asks what metal thing is in the middle of the meat, realize that the metal covering at the tip of the thermometer has come out, again. Well, better than the thermometer breaking for mercury-infused meat.

Pour some sauce atop meat, or don't do that at all. Pass remaining sauce. Makes 8-10 servings. Enjoiiiii.

Roasted Tomatillo Salsa

2010-11-15T10:00:00.000-08:00

A couple of weekends ago, Josh and I went to San Antonio to pay a long-in-coming visit to our friends Nick & Kristina. We did things like see their house (very cute), meet their cats (even cuter), and then go to Kristina's family's ranch, where I became a proper Texan.

Hide your kids, hide your wife.

We also ate Texas-style while we were there, which, amongst other things, included Kristina's homemade tomatillo salsa. A tomatillo salsa so magnificent it made me simultaneously:

A. realize I liked tomatillo salsa, and

B. demand the recipe.

I have since made the tomatillo salsa upon returning home, and blown other people's minds with its deliciousness. It is really ridiculously tasty, easy to make, and you can vary the degree of spicy heat to your own liking. So good, even, that I tupperwared it up lest any bit go wasted.

And now, I bequeath it unto you. Everyone say a great big thanks to Kristina for introducing us to this fabulousness. She deserves all that and then some.

Green and gorgeous.

The Spirit of San Antonio: Kristina's Roasted Tomatillo Salsa

(which may be adapted from a recipe by Sara Moulton, but I don't know who that is, so who cares about her? All hail Kristina!)

1 1/2 lbs fresh tomatillos or 2 (11-oz) cans tomatillos

5 fresh serrano chiles

3 garlic cloves (unpeeled)

1/2 cup fresh cilantro

1 lg onion (coarsely chopped)*

2 tsp coarse salt (Kosher!)

Preheat broiler. If using fresh tomatillos, remove husks and rinse under warm water to remove stickiness. If using canned tomatillos, drain and measure out 2 cups.

Wait, rewind. Do you even know what a tomatillo is? I'd certainly heard the word thrown around before, but I really had no idea what it meant other than Tex-Mex something. They are tiny green tomato-looking things with leaves that like to grow loosely around them and fall off easily. Here is a visual aid pilfered from the Internets:

Tomatillos. Knowing is half the battle.

Moving on: broil chiles, garlic, and fresh tomatillos (do not broil canned) on the rack of a broiler pan 1-2"s from heat, turning once, until tomatillos are softened and slightly charred--about 7 minutes.

Peel garlic and pull tops off chiles. Puree all ingredients in a blender.

Yield: 3 cups.

Kristina's notes: I have never used canned tomatillos (for God's sake, I live in San Antonio!). I also only use 4 serranos, which I think is spicy enough. Peppers vary so it will really change from batch to batch (dark green serranos tend to have more heat than lighter green ones). I usually add three first, taste, and add more if necessary. Also, I use about 1/2 to 3/4s onion. The Vitamix is a godsend, but I am sure that a blender will work well, too. Be sure to let some of the liquid from the roasted tomatillos fill the base so you don't get pureed onions.

Heather's notes: I would second that 'don't use canned tomatillos if you can avoid it' suggestion from Kristina, but for a slightly different reason - when I had Kristina's salsa it was actually still warm from just being roasted. That made it even more delicious, so I suggest serving immediately if at all possible.

I also found that three serranos were more than enough to make me hiss and yell after several mouthfuls due to the heat. Of course, I don't live in Texas. I tend to be a medium-heat sort of person. Her 'start with three, then taste test' is a good rule of thumb.

Wait, do you know what a serrano chile looks like? It's this one:

I am so damn educational today.

Also: I don't know what a Vitamix is. I used a blender like normal people.

Also: I used the whole onion. Shocker.

Nick also has a note and that is: If you want to grill instead of broil, pre-heat the grill to 425-475 degrees, and then turn off the center burner(s) and leave the outside burners on and adjust as required. Place a cookie sheet with all the stuff in the center of the grill and let it roast with the cover closed until they start to brown.

*Onion chopping: Mike Milch + squeakykitty.

Peach Pie

2010-11-08T09:02:00.000-08:00

I'm back! And I think this time it is for real.

Some events conspired to make me feel like doing a few foodie blog posts again, so I think what's going to happen for the time being is this: Some periodic blog posts here and there about things I *do* want to eat. Or rather, things I either know I love and want to share or things I have struck on by happenstance...and thus also want to share. Nothing as rigorous as going through a cookbook in order blah blah blah, but anyhow, there you go.

So. Last week I whizzed my way through Nora Ephron's book Heartburn, a 25-year-old thinly-veiled fictional account of the breakup of her marriage to Carl Bernstein (of Woodward and). I'd seen the movie (Meryl Streep, Jack Nicholson) before and sort of felt it was more sad than funny, but my writing partner Megan had given me her copy of Heartburn and I was waiting for higher-value books to arrive from the library (I am very tremendous about getting nearly all of my books from the library thanks to the fact that you can order them online, given you access to the entire LA library system instead of just whatever branch you're in, and they ship it to the branch of your choice and then email you when it's arrived. Marvelous, and it makes Josh less crazy that I'm spending all of our money on books that we then have to find somewhere to house.)

Anyhow, discovered that:
A. The book is funnier than the movie.
B. Nora Ephron is such a damn talented writer (Okay, I already knew that, but I forget it sometimes because her stuff can be so light and funny you forget/don't appreciate the level of talent and work that must go into making things seem so seamless and easy).
C. Heartburn has a few little recipes in it (her alter ego in the book is a food writer, so she includes a few recipes).

I decided to try one for Peach Pie and HOLY EFFING SHIT was it good. And easy. Mostly, the crust was insane. The best pie crust I have ever made, and I am a fan of pie crusts (more than the fillings if you must know). Which basically means this is now going to be my go-to pie crust, and I may very well just substitute it for the crusts called for in other recipes. It's light and flaky and fast and everything good.

Anyhow, Nora Ephron already bequeathed it to the world, and I am re-bequeathing. Enjoy.

This is not the peach pie I made, as I didn't realize

when I made it I was going to blog it, so I didn't take

a picture of it. I stole this photo off the Internet

because it basically represents what

Nora Ephron's Peach Pie looks like.

NORA EPHRON'S BEST PEACH PIE

Put 1 1/4 cups flour, 1/2 tsp (Kosher) salt, 1/2 cup butter and 2 tbsp sour cream into a Cuisinart (blender) and blend until they form a ball. Pat out into a buttered (as shit) pie tin, and bake 10 minutes at 425.

Beat 3 egg yolks slightly and combine with 1 cup sugar, 2 tbsp flour, and 1/3 cup sour cream (in the blender again). Pour over 3 peeled, sliced peaches (or two cans of canned peaches because peaches are out of season and as Al Swearengen says, "Open the fucking canned peaches!") arranged in the crust.

Cover with foil. Reduce the oven to 350 and bake 35 minutes. Remove the foil and bake 10 minutes more, or until the filling is set (which turns out to be way longer than 10 minutes in my oven, but whatever).

Serve to guests. Eat. Collectively lose minds over amazing crust. Or lose your own mind so thoroughly about the crust that you don't notice that everyone else is bored. Either way. Good damn crust. Thank you, Nora.

Awards

2010-06-03T10:06:00.000-07:00

At long last, I am prepared to dole out the superlatives from the Recipe Book. In retrospect, the wait was actually necessary because I needed a certain amount of time to see which of these stayed with me, which I made again, etc.

And now, without further ado, My Favorite Recipes from The Recipe Book:

Appetizer - Karen Davis's Hot Cheese Puffs (aka Aunt Ellen's Cheese Dreams aka Cheesy Poofs)
No contest. I have made these a ton of times since I first discovered this recipe, and get repeated requests for them.

Brunch - Ellie Baker's Cheese Knishes
Knishes are more of an appetizer thing than a brunch thing IMO, but as they were in the Brunch chapter and I'm not a breakfast person, they were easily the best find in there. These are a little labor-intensive, but oh so worth it. Especially good for any Bostonians with a yen for a good small knish like they grew up with.

Soup - Sarah Pascarella's Black Bean & Lime Chili
There were about 45 recipes for chili in this book and they were all pretty good. This one was both the least typical and, surprisingly, my favorite. Two points for Sarah P.

Bread - Todd Tilzer's Challah
There were lots of good bread recipes--surprising banana bread ones, muffins, etc. But DIY challah? Yes please.

Side Dish - Savitri Sanithran's Oven-Roasted Broccoli
Hands down one of the best finds of the Recipe Book. Savitri succeeded in not only introducing a recipe into what is now heavy rotation here @ Casa Huntington, but more importantly, making me eat a vegetable I actively shunned before. It's like broccoli candy. So simple. So fast. So delicious. And for that, we are thankful.

Main Course - Cousin Thuy Le's Stir-Friend Ginger Chicken
This recipe single-handedly changed my feelings about stir fry, which previously always disappointed. It's almost like why order Chinese food when I can make this? The sauce is great, and I have made this more than once.

Other main courses that cannot go without mention include: Josh's Dad's Meatloaf and my mom's Baked Stuffed Shrimp (score two for mom).

BBQ - Cathy Tarnowski's Soy Kabobs (aka Hawaiian Chicken Kabobs)
These sound terrible - in my mind they are like tofu squares in soy sauce, but in reality they are chicken kabobs in an awesome marinade. Between the marinading and the kabob-making, they can be a little time consuming, but well worth it. I'm even making them tonight. Thank you Cathy for a recipe that makes (what is to me) the oft-boring chicken a sought-after meal!

Serious Honorable Mention goes to my Mom's Hawaiian Chicken with the apricot preserves & Russian dressing goodness and Shauna Jordan's 'Super Tasty BBQ Sauce' aka Pulled Pork. The former is baked, so I have no idea why it's under BBQ--I guess it can be BBQed as well, but I've loved it for years. And the latter, well, I now know how to make Southern-style crockpot BBQ, and boy of boy does that make Josh happy.

Cookies - Ginny Huntington's Christmas Cookies and Jette Mistry's Toffee Bark (tie)
Ginny's Holiday Cut-Out Cookies have been a favorite of mine since I came into her family, and at this point when it's December, you kind of just have to make a batch to get into the holiday spirit. And as for Jette's Toffee, good God that stuff is like crack. And so easy to make. Oh boy.

Honorable mention goes to Aunt Ina's Ginger Cookies (given by cousin Deborah Gordon) and Todd Tilzer's Lemon Bars. The ginger snaps were quite a surprise; they are easy and fast and you can't beat cookies that actually make you feel better. As for the lemon bars, I haven't re-made them yet (without the entire rind, oh me oh my), but as a lemon bar person, I am sure that I will. And when I fix that mistake, oh they will be heavenly for sure. And yes, this is the second win for Tilzer, if you are counting, which I'm sure he is.

Desserts - My mom's Apple Pie and Cassie Bowman's Chocolate Cake (tie)
I'm an apple pie person, and this apple pie doesn't disappoint (go mom!). I'm NOT a chocolate cake person, but this one was so stinking moist that there is no way this won't be my go-to chocolate cake recipe when chocolate cake is called for.

And a couple final categories...

Most Surprising
A few recipes were simply not what I expected--mostly for the good, as I'm such a skeptic. The least expect recipes to win me over were:

Ginny Huntington's Ponzi Bread (For making me eat olives and not mind them.)

Michele Silverthorn's Green Jell-O Salad (Sounds terrible and the ingredient list is actively terrifying. Turns out it's really tasty.)

Savitri's Oven-Roasted Broccoli (For making me actively crave broccoli - never did I think that could happen.)

Matt Armstrong's Spicy Tuna Pasta (Canned tuna in red sauce pasta? Sounds awful. Is actively good.)

Most Evil

Jane Vallier's Madelines (For repeatedly befuddling me in the kitchen. May you never darken my doors again.)

Cathy Tarnowski's Hot Chicken (For trying to asphyxiate me with hot pepper fumes of death.)

Cousin Bobbie Davis's Almond Chicken (For nearly burning down my kitchen.)

Connie Swenson's Flan (For being misread by me and thus becoming my biggest baking flop.)

Anything with eggplant in it (Enough said.)

What were your favorites?

Thanksgiving in May

2010-05-26T11:12:00.000-07:00

Hello long lost blog-readers! My hiatus is just about ending. After a couple-month break, I am feeling the yen to get back into the kitchen again. Okay, I haven't exactly left the kitchen, but you know, into it more regularly.While I decide exactly what form that will take, allow me to regale you with a little tale of Thanksgiving in May.

In most places, spring means a calendar full of things like weddings and graduations. Here, spring means skunks and foxtails.

The former live in my yard and like to spray my dog, apparently in the spring, as this is the second year in a row that Josh and I had a peaceful evening of TV interrupted by a burning stink filling the basement, punctuated by the dog tear-assing up the stairs in a bolt of horror. Last year it was a normal skunking, after which Big was properly horrified--so much so that he wouldn't go out into the back yard at night for a long time.

And yet, he got skunked again last week. Josh thinks in the spring the baby skunks with hair triggers are out, and somehow they always get him. We were settling into a nice night of Pizza Buona and the John Adams series from HBO when Big came shooting in, the recipient of a direct shot in the eye. The night devolved into baking soda baths and a trip to the emergency vet to make sure he was okay (he was).

As a skunk veteran, I can give the following tips:
1. Do not wash your dog in tomato juice. I hear it doesn't work, and it stains your dog pink.
2. Do wash your dog in a mixture of hydrogen peroxide and baking soda or else use some of the special Nature's Miracle skunk-be-gone stuff.

We've gone those routes, and Big smells fine. Except when he's wet--then the skunk smell is refreshed. Poor guy.

The other spring peril for Los Angeles dog owners is foxtails, a type of evil grass that gets stuck in their ears, noses, throats, paws, what have you, and can often can only be removed surgically and/or cause infections, etc. Vets basically spend the entire spring extracting them from dogs, and hey surprise, my dog sadly is no exception. Big got one stuck in his throat last year--as you will recall from the bran muffin entry. This week, he got another one in his throat, plus a bonus one in the eye. What is it with his eyes this year?

The throat one we resolved at home, but the eye one yielded a trip to the vet (done by the angelic Josh, as I couldn't bear to see the dog freak at the vet one more time) resulting in the extraction of a TWO INCH FOXTAIL from his right eye. Again, his eye is fine. That dog is a trooper.

Oh, did I mention that both Stripey and Big got chlamydia of the eyes? I don't even know how they got that, but obviously someone wants me to have blind pets. Moving on.

Given what spring usually means here, I'm not exactly sure why we should herald the coming of spring, but herald it we do. Josh is a big fan of celebrating May Day. I guess it was a big thing in Ames to do the ring and run, so usually on May Day Josh leaves me a basket of some goodies at the front door. It's very sweet.

Josh and my May Day bouquet

And this year we rounded May Day out with Thanksgiving in May. Last November, my friend Leslie noticed that turkeys were on sale super cheap at the ghetto grocery, so we both bought one and put them in the freezer. We decided to crack our her turkey and give it a proper Thanksgiving in May.

Leslie was in charge of the turkey, gravy, and a broccoli casserole. She used this turkey recipe from epicurious and good lord did it come out well. She did a different gravy recipe, but so far I have been unsuccessful at worming either it or the broccoli casserole recipe out of her, which is a shame because they were both also really good. Feel free to take it up with her.

As for me, I did a combo of some of my favorite things from my family and some new things. For my family favorites, I did my mom's twice baked potatoes and her stuffing. My mom does a mean Thanksgiving, and both of those are my faves. Would you like to know how to do them? Here you go:

**********************************************

Gordon Family Twice-Baked Potatoes

(serves 2)

2 lg baking potatoes (Idaho or Russet)

2 tbsp margarine or butter

milk

paprika

salt & pepper to taste

Bake potatoes @ 485 for 1 to 1 1/2 hours, until they wish
they weren't potatoes anymore. Let cool. Cut in half lengthwise,
scoop out the potato innards and combine in a bowl.
Make sure to LEAVE THE SKIN IN TACT!

Set skin aside on baking pan. Mix the potato innards with the
margarine or butter, and a small amount of milk and salt and
pepper to taste, i.e., make mashed potatoes. Refill the potato
skins with the mashed potatoes (or you can just overfill two
halves, but I prefer filling all of them normally).
Sprinkle with paprika.
Bake uncovered @ 350 degrees for 20-25 minutes.

******************************************************

Rechelle's Ridiculously Awesome, Made-Up-Herself Thanksgiving Stuffing

(serves 12 w/ leftovers)

1 bag (16 oz) Pepperidge Farm Herb Stuffing
(ah, my mom and her hilarious brand allegiance)

1 1/2 cup Progresso Italian style bread crumbs (ditto)

1 lb butter (yup, 1 lb)

1 1/2 cup pecans (broken into halves or thirds before measured)

1 cup dried apricots, quartered (measured after quartering)

1 3/4 cup cooked mushrooms
(i.e., a container of halved mushrooms from the grocery)

1 cup water

Cook mushrooms in butter and garlic salt in a pan on the stove.
Set aside. Put stuffing and breadcrumbs in a large bowl and mix.
Melt 1 stick of butter and mix. Add pecans and mix.
Melt another stick of butter and mix. Add apricots and mix.

Melt another stick of butter and mix. Are you beginning to
notice a pattern? Add cooked mushrooms and mix.
Melt and add the last stick of butter. Mix.

Put entire stuffing mixture into oven-proof serving dish.
Pour 1 cup of water over, but do not mix (shocker!).
Bake uncovered @ 350 degrees for ~ 30 minutes
or until lightly browned. Serve, keeping 911 on speed dial
for the heart attack you will have from
eating this delicious concoction.

******************************************

The other things I made were recipes I hadn't tested before. I am pretty sure I tried the cranberry sauce from scratch recipe from How to Cook Everything. It's very easy--basically just sugar and water with cranberries and then either you strain it or not and maybe let it set or maybe let it be saucier. Whatever you dig. It was very good, and I was more than a little proud of myself. Plus, displaying it in a dog-bone shaped bowl, cute, right?

It helps that I also made that apron myself in sewing class.

I am the original renaissance woman.

For dessert, I tried my cousin Tracy's raspberry pie recipe that I poached when she submitted it to the recipe book I put together for my cousin Sara's wedding last summer. I am pleased to say, it i did not disappoint.

************************************************

Tracy Weiner's Deep Red Raspberry Pie

Store-bought crust

2 1/2 pints fresh red raspberries

3/4 cup sugar

4 tbsp cornstarch

2 tbsp creme de cassis

1 tsp finely grated lemon zest

1 tsp fresh lemon juice

Combine raspberries, sugar, cornstarch, liqueur, lemon zest and lemon juice in a bow. Fold together. Press dough onto bottom of baking dish. Spoon in fruit mixture, spreading evenly, but mounding slightly in center. Put second crust on top and fold or pinch edge to seal. Cut 4 small holes in center and bake for 45 mins-1hr, until crust is golden brown and filling starts to bubble through slits. Cool at least 30 minutes.

NB: I varied this by using my
mother-in-law's recipe for a graham cracker crust
on the bottom. It was a good choice.

*****************************************************

In any event, Thanksgiving in May was a huge success, and splitting the cooking between two people made it totally manageable. We ate until our eyeballs nearly burst. Spring may bring a lot of horrors here in LA, but I think Thanksgiving on May Day might need to happen again.

The full spread. Jealous?

Chocolate Chip Cake

2010-03-08T13:34:00.000-08:00

Today, in many ways, is a day of reckoning for me. One of those ways is: I have cooked the last recipe from The Recipe Book. A Chocolate Chip Cake courtesy of Cos & Jackie Renzi, some very close friends of Josh's parents, to be exact.

It's been, it turns out, almost exactly a year. I did my first entry on Monday, March 9, 2009, and I put this thing to bed today, Monday, March 8, 2010. I didn't plan it that way at all. In fact, I expected to be done a couple of weeks ago, before some last submissions made it in under the wire. It was only just now as I was typing this that I checked the calendar and discovered the date of that first entry.

In the past year, a lot of things have changed, but many more of them are the same. I'm still chipping away at being a freelance writer (screen and otherwise). I'm still hanging out on a daily basis in my basement with naught but the dog and cat for (excellent, very supportive) coworkers. Josh put in a pet door so that I don't have to have the back door hanging open all day for the boys, alternately causing me to freeze/melt depending on the weather outside. That makes things much nicer down here. The cat's a little snugglier, and Josh and Big are as wonderful as always. One day I hope very much to be able to once again earn enough money to spoil them all as they deserve.

As for cooking? Again, some things change and some things stay the same. I definitely am more confident in the kitchen. I now have a couple of go-to recipes, some things I know how to do well, and even at times without a recipe in front of me. I am more comfortable, I like eating at home more than I did, and I am developing the ability to look at what I have in the refrigerator and use those items instead of buying new ones and letting what I have go to waste.

And yet, I still, and I think forever, can be counted on to make the wrong decision when faced with two choices--kitchen wise, that is. This isn't a 'poor me' or 'Murphy's Law' sort of thing. It's just how it is. I will always wonder if an odd instruction is a typo or an unconventional way of doing things. I will always try to multi-task too much and wind up burning the wall. And getting everything to be finished around the same time is a skill that may take me a lifetime to master.

But still, I'm happy I did this. When it looked like I was going to finish a couple of weeks ago, I got nervous. I wasn't ready. I was thinking of what I could cook my way through next. After all, I like the structure; without it, I find myself back where I was, wondering without direction what to have for dinner. The freedom that comes with having no 'choice,' just having to cook the next thing in the book provides the perfect amount of direction for me. Especially when you can ignore it and make what you want when the yen strikes on other nights.

But when I got those last recipes from Cathy, I got a reprieve. And now I am ready to be done. At least for the time being. Josh and I are going away for a couple of weeks for our fourth anniversary (time, oh it does fly), and it's nice to have it sorted now.

I haven't figured out exactly what I'm going to do yet when we get back. I mean, there are a couple more wrap up type entries I have in mind, but once those are done, do I want to embark on another round? My old roommate Catheren was a pastry chef, and as a wedding present, separate from this Recipe Book, Catheren put together a Recipe Book of her own for us, a Catheren's Creative Cooking Solutions for Newlyweds or something like that, with her favorite recipes. It was thoughtful and sweet, and having lived with Catheren and eaten her food, I can only imagine a lot of what is in it is terrific. Plus, it's a pretty natural extension of the Recipe Book.

Or do I want to open the pool, and now accept new recipes from current readers? It's only been four years since this first recipe book was put together, but even in that time there are so many new friends. Would it be fun to try my hand at new submissions from them?

Or should I tackle a more established cook book? We have a couple of Moosewood Cookbooks lying around. I suppose eating primarily vegetarian fare for a Recipe Book project would be interesting, and possibly quite healthy for me.

Or, is the prospect of another month of soups or breakfasts too much to bear? Maybe it's just time to go out on my own.

Whatever I wind up doing, I want to say thank you to everyone for reading and commenting. Without the pressure of knowing you were waiting for me, there is no question in my mind that I would have fallen off long ago. And your comments, compliments, and interest have been utterly sustaining. Thank you all for being my family, my readers, and my friends. I hope I have entertained you. And possibly, through my fumblings, found you some things you do want to eat.

Much love,
Heather, Los Angeles, 8 March 2010

Anyone else wonder how the chocolate chips
didn't melt in the oven? Or is that just me?

Chocolate Chip Cake

(one stick) unsalted margarine or butter
1 cup sugar
2 eggs
1 pint (one cup) regular sour cream or plain yogurt*
1 tsp vanilla
1 tsp cinnamon
2 cups unsifted all purpose flour
1 tsp baking powder
1 tsp baking soda
1 large bag (about 2 cups) semi-sweet chocolate chips
mixture of 1 tsp cinnamon and 1 cup sugar

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Cream butter and sugar. Add the eggs, sour cream (or yogurt) and vanilla. Crack one egg so enthusiastically that the entire thing, shell and all, goes flying into the mixing bowl. Fish out most of the shell. Nice.

Check, double check, and triple check conversions, at which point you determine that one pint of sour cream is actually two cups, not one. Wonder which is the correct measure, the pint or the cup. Decide you really have no idea on this one, so split the difference and go for a cup and a half.

Mix flour, baking powder, soda, and cinnamon. Add to other ingredients. Beat well. Add half of the bag of chocolate chips (about 1 cup).

Grease and sugar a 13x9" pan. Or else the round springform because damn it you like that one, all unsnapping the outside of the pan when you're done. Also, sugar the pan? You have never heard of this before. Interesting.

Pour the batter into the pan. Sprinkle the cinnamon sugar mixture on top. Sprinkle the other half bag (1 cup) of chocolate chips on top. Weird.

Bake for 25-30 minutes or until toothpick inserted into center comes out free of batter, which it turns out is way longer than that if you use this springform pan. Cool on rack (hot chips will burn mouth). Muck it up with some failed attempt at frosting.

Eat. Determine that you probably should have gone with the pint instead of the cup for the sour cream. But everyone else likes it and proclaims it very tasty, even if you think it is kind of bland. Of course. Would you have your last entry go any other way?

Finis

*This is a physical impossibility.

Almond Butter-Crunch Popcorn

2010-03-05T10:35:00.000-08:00

The last of Cathy's recipes has arrived in the form of Almond Butter-Crunch Popcorn. This is another Martha Stewart recipe, and one which I was very, very keen to try. I mean, it's basically a recipe for DIY Crunch 'n Munch. Plus, Cathy rightly suggested it would be apropos in my fancy screening room basement.

So yesterday I fired her up with visions of eating the finished product while Josh and I watched the Jim & Pam Have Their Baby episode of The Office. Unfortunately, this wasn't quite to be. Not because the popcorn didn't turn out. No no no. Rather, because it turned out so well that I basically couldn't wait and ate it all off the pan the second it was done, so I was mostly full by the time we turned on the TV.

Oddly, I had all the ingredients in the house. Presuming, of course, that microwave popcorn is considered acceptable. But Josh evidently has a thing for buying mass quantities of nuts so we have like an entire shelf-full of them. And I can't say I was unhappy to use some of them up.

The recipe is very easy. Basically, you make popcorn and then throw in some nuts. In a pan on the stove you mix up the delicious coating, which you then pour on the popcorn. You toss to mix, then throw it in the oven to bake it at a very low temp for an hour. Then you eat yourself into an insulin coma.

Let me just say this: This shit is good. Like, really good. Like I hovered over the stove and just ate it in some sort of unstoppable zombie trance good. Cathy suggests that you are supposed to let it cool before you eat it, but with the oven at just 200 degrees, it was plenty cool enough to eat the second it came out, I assure you. Having had some remainders for breakfast this morning (healthy), I am going to go out on a limb and say I like it better as 'fresh' as possible.

I will also say this: I didn't love the almonds. Not sure why. Was it that they were toasted? Did I over-toast and burn them? Do I just not like them with the sweet butter crunch? I don't know. Next time I might go straight Crunch 'n Munch and go for peanuts. I'll experiment. But there WILL be a next time.

It's not a huge amount of effort and the rewards are pretty great. Given, you could just make even less effort and get the store-bought kind. I mean, it's not like it's healthy. It's popcorn in a sugar/butter coating. But then I think, yes, and the store-bought kind is also full of God Knows What chemicals and additives and chicken feet and bug carcasses. Which means, this kind is better for you. Screw you store-bought kind!

For the record: Josh branded the Almond Butter-Crunch Popcorn as good, but a little salty. Josh is clearly deranged. It is perfect. I will make an appointment for him at the doctor forthwith.

Oh yeah. I made this.

Ridiculously Delicious Almond Butter-Crunch Popcorn (Which May Soon Have Peanuts)

25 cups (from about 1 cup kernels) popped popcorn
3 cups unsalted whole skin-on almonds, toasted (about 1 lb) or 4 cups raw whole macadamia nuts, toasted (about 1 lb)
1 1/4 cup packed light brown sugar (Cathy uses dark. I use whatever the hell is in my brown sugar canister)
5 tbsp light corn syrup
10 tbsp (1 1/4 sticks) unsalted butter
3/4 tsp baking soda

Look at recipe. Think: Does this actually say 25 cups of popcorn? Is this supposed to be the size of an entire popcorn maker they have at the movie theater? Then think: Okay, it says about 1 cup kernels, so I can work with that. Go to cabinet, pull out microwave popcorn. Realize that the microwave popcorn doesn't tell you how many cups of kernels are in there. And that if you opened the bag to measure, it would defeat the whole bag-as-popper mechanism. Wonder: Is it okay to use microwave popcorn instead of oven kind? Think: Tough shit, it's going to be microwave. And furthermore, tough shit, it's going to be however much I have in this stupid microwave bag. The end.

Microwave popcorn to pop it. Preheat oven to 200 degrees. Put popcorn in a large bowl. Add the nuts; set aside. Realize you were supposed to toast the nuts, per a footnote Cathy put in. Laboriously separate the almonds from the popcorn as best you can. Put the almonds on a rimmed baking sheet and place in a 350 oven for 8-10 minutes, shaking the pan halfway through to move the nuts around. Or, realize your oven is already busy doing the 200 degree preheat, so put them in the toaster oven, and forget to shake the pan half way through the move the nuts around. Actually, forget to turn the toaster oven on for that matter, so lose even more time as the nuts are sitting in the cold toaster oven. Yeah, come to think of it, you probably burned them a little.

Put sugar, corn syrup, butter and salt in a medium saucepan. Cook over medium heat, stirring, until mixture comes to a gentle simmer, about 4 minutes. Stop stirring; continue cooking until mixture lightens in color, 5 minutes more. Remove from heat; stir in baking soda.

Hey, this looks good. Too bad that at the point you got here with the sugar mixture, the almonds were still toasting (read: burning). So cover the pot and wait it out. When the almonds are done, discover the sugar mixture has now hardened. Doh. Heat it back up again to turn it back into a liquid, then pour over popcorn and nuts; toss to coat.

Transfer to rimmed baking sheets.* Bake, stirring every 20 minutes, until amost dry, about 1 hour. Let cool on sheets on wire racks. Again with the wire racks? I just leave the sheet on the stove. This must be terrible for some reason. And besides, who needs it to cool? It was perfect immediately!

*Cathy says: Snitch some now -- it's really good even before you dry it out.
Heather says: It's just good, period.

Herbed Basmati Rice

2010-03-03T10:16:00.000-08:00

Another one of the eleventh hour recipes that Cathy sent me was for Herbed Basmati Rice. This happens to be a very good thing, because I am a big fan of rice. Namely the boxed 20-minute kind you buy at the grocery that Josh says is stripped of all its nutrients and is just therefore empty calories, i.e., what has come to be known as 'candy rice' in our house (as in 'it's as good for you as candy.')

Josh is happy to never eat candy rice again. I, on the other hand, adhere stubbornly to the idea that it has some sort of value and make it a lot. Plus, he doesn't like potatoes, so what's a girl to do? Plus, it tastes good.

So a recipe for rice that isn't going to take a hundred years to make, but might actually still retain some nutrients is perfect. Plus, Cathy got it from Cooking Light, so it might not make us fat. Even better. It turns out that finding the ingredients for it, however, isn't as easy as I would expect. After all this time, why I would expect it to be easy I don't know, but there you go.

I mean, we've all heard of basmati rice, right? I presume so. Somehow my grocery store hadn't. I stared at every box and bag of rice for like 10 minutes, probably making the woman next to me also looking at rice pretty sure I was trying to hit on her, but there was no basmati to be found. This makes no sense, but there you have it. Finally, I found an overpriced container of 'Texmati,' which it claimed was American basmati rice, and I figured would have to do. There was also something called Mahatma rice, which I wagered could have been basmati, but nowhere on the package did it specify which kind. Apparently the vagaries of rice are quite challenging. At least at the ghetto grocery. And with my little pea brain.

Making the rice itself was much less challenging. Except Cathy kept throwing in weird ingredient measures -- 1 tsp of butter? and measurements for fresh herbs when all I have are dried -- but I prevailed. And by 'prevailed' I mean I just threw in random amounts and hoped for the best.

In the end, the rice came out: okay. It was weirdly a little harder than I expected. Like physically harder, not difficult to make. This doesn't exactly make sense as it had drunk up all the water as it was supposed to. Maybe basmati is just tiny, compact, kind of hard rice? Or at least Texmati is?

Also, I think the rice was a little thyme-heavy. I don't think this is the recipe's fault, though (see previous paragraph); I'm just discovering I like a really light touch with thyme, so doing things like actually doing the proper measurements is probably a really good idea.

Josh hoovered it (and the rest of dinner) up with his favorite, "I hated it!" proclamation delivered with glee over his empty plate. I will for sure make this again, I'm just going to have to do things like: measure it right.

Little. Yellow. Different.

Cathy's Potential-Having, More-Nutrient-Than-Boxed-Version-Possessing Herbed Basmati Rice

2 tsp butter*
1 garlic clove, minced
1/2 cup uncooked basmati rice (Texmati?)
1 cup water (or 1/2 cup water + 1/2 cup chicken broth)
1/4 tsp salt
2 tbsp thinly sliced green onion tops
2 tsp minced fresh basil**
1 tsp minced fresh thyme**
2 tbsp grated fresh Parmesan cheese
1/4 tsp freshly ground pepper

Go to cut 2 tbsps of butter off the stick when you realize it says 2 tsps, not tbsps. Think: WHAT? This makes no sense. What is two tsps of butter? Think: I have had this issue before and determined it must have been a typo. Plus, most of the candy rice recipes call for 2 tbsps, so that makes sense. Think: But this recipe is from Cooking Light, which would indicate that they might actually go for less butter. Plus, Cathy isn't so much the typo type.

Contemplate calling Cathy, but realize that given the time difference it is probably too late there. Realize you could use olive oil in the handy 2 tsp dose, but reject that because you strongly prefer butter in your rice. Take a quick peek in your conversion thing on the binder of your Recipe Book, which says there are about 3 tsps in 1 tbsp. So decide you will cut off 1 tbsp of butter and call it even. Ish.

Melt butter in a small saucepan over medium heat. Boy, all that stress this early on.

Add garlic; saute 1 minute. Add rice; stir well. Still good. Add water and salt, being sad that you don't have the chicken stock in the house because you figure that would give it good flavor. Next time.

Bring to a boil. Cover, reduce heat, and simmer 20 minutes or until liquid is absorbed. Can do, chief.

Remove from heat; let stand 5 minutes. This is sounding more and more like the Candy Rice routine, and familiarity breeds a happy Heather.

Stir in green onions, which you suddenly realize you forgot to get. Damn it.

Stir in basil and thyme mixture and pepper. Go for the dried herbs since the beloved herb garden is sadly defunct, but realize Cathy told you the measurements for fresh herbs. Neglect reading Cathy's note below, that she usually uses about 1 tsp of the mix of both (which is at a 2:1 basil: thyme ratio) for this entire recipe. Recall that you saw somewhere recently a nice note that tells you the general dried herbs to fresh herbs conversion, but fail to recall where you saw it (note now as you write this: Moosewood Cookbook, numskull). So basically go crazy and decide you are going to just wing it spice wise, and do 1 tsp basil and 1/2 tsp thyme, which, while it does preserve that 2:1 ratio, in the end turns out to be more than is necessary (see my 'I don't like too much thyme taste' sentiment above).

Sprinkle with cheese. Or forget that and mix it in. Whatevs. I'll get it right next time, damn it. And there will be a next time. You haven't seen the last of me, Texmati!

*Cathy says: You can use olive oil. I would never use margarine because I think it's evil, but there you go.

**Cathy says: I used dried herbs and just mix in a small plastic jar, which I then keep in the pantry. When I make this dish, I just sprinkle enough in so that it looks like there are herbs throughout the rice; about 1 tsp of the dried mix is about right--you can change it to suit your tastes. However, if I remember correctly, you have a real herb garden, so you might want fresh!

Heather says: Yes, I did have a real herb garden. Until the raccoons (or possums or skunks or neighbors) raped it one weekend while we were away and we came home to find it completely shredded. We're on dried herb patrol (save for the rosemary and mint in pots out front) until we can construct a more wildlife-proof herb garden.

Final Cathy note: I have an updated version of this recipe in my notebook, but typically work off the one I have here. I usually need at least double for my (4 person) family. The kids are split 50:50; one likes the rice before adding the spices and cheese, one likes the full recipe. I often skip the green onions because I don't always have them on hand (word, girl). The other recipe adds toasted pine nuts...do whatever you think is best after you've tried it once.

Final Heather note: Did you ever notice that Cathy likes her notes?

Black & White Cheesecake Bars

2010-02-25T12:17:00.000-08:00

On Tuesday night we hung out with Rebekah and Sean, good friends who live around the corner, but who we don't see nearly enough of. Bekah and Sean made dinner, and requested that we contribute dessert, which was perfectly fine, as I had a couple of sweets recipes still needing to be done. Only when I got there did I discover that they specifically requested dessert because they view me as a 'baker,' which they proclaim they are not. They had a yen for a dessert, one of mine specifically.

This to me is hilarious because outside of this Recipe Book, I don't often bother with desserts, let alone ones that I bake. But I guess as a course of things, I am now viewed both as someone who is known to bake, and known to do it well? I guess? This makes no sense to me, but there you have it. I think Sean & Bekah just have a very skewed opinion of me. Or else I have a skewed opinion of me. Or both.

In any event, I have a Martha Stewart recipe for Black & White Cheesecake Bars, via Cathy. This sounded just delightful to me; I mean, basically, you say 'cheesecake' and I'm there.

It's basically cheesecake brownies, which I've never made and always wanted to know how to make. They were pretty simple, although there's a lot of bake this for a half hour, then come back and do more to it, so you have to have a bit of time to make it, even if that time involves lots of breaks. But they come out quite pretty, and I finally learned the secret of using wax paper to line the baking dish so you can get them out easily and without breakage. I may become a devotee to this method.

And then you just LIFT IT OUT! No breaking or scraping or horror! Yes!

Cathy noted that she downloaded the recipe from the Martha Stewart website, where she noticed that lots of users were complaining about all the butter in the recipe. I second that emotion. The recipe calls for 2 1/2 sticks of butter, which, IMO means that the finished brownies cross over the line from luxuriously buttery to greasy. Then again, they were moist as all get-out, so there's that.

Cathy also points out that they are a little light on the cheesecake for her tastes, and I completely agree. These are more brownies with a hint of cheesecake than vice versa, and as a cheesecake fan, that's just kind of a tease. Still, brownies are brownies, and everyone at dinner liked them and had seconds, including myself. It's just that in the future I might start paring down the butter so we can just hit the deliciously moist mark without any hint of hmmm, is this a little gross?

Fancy plated photo courtesy of Sean

Martha Stewart's Overly-Buttery, But Still Quite Tasty Black & White Cheesecake Bars aka Brownies

2 cups + 2 tbsp all-purpose flour
3/4 cup unsweetened Dutch-process cocoa powder (aka Hershey's powder. Is that Dutch process? Do I know? Do I care? It's cocoa powder, that should be good enough, Martha, you fancy bitch.)
1 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt (Kosher!)
10 oz (2 1/2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened (but should still be cool)*
2 cups granulated sugar (mostly white, with some raw mixed in for good measure)
3 large eggs (0r whatever size I have. I mean, really.)
2 1/2 tsp pure vanilla extract
8 oz cream cheese, softened
1/2 cup confectioners' sugar

Coat a 9x13" baking dish (i.e., glass casserole dish, not a metal baking pan) with cooking spray. Realize you do not have a glass baking dish, but you do have a ceramic lasagna type dish, so that is going to have to do. Realize you only have canola oil spray, and that is going to have to do, too.

Line dish with parchment, leaving a 2" overhang on both long sides, then spray (or butter with the leftover butter wax paper, says Cathy) parchment. Realize you do not have parchment. Decide that wax paper will have to do. Also fail to really understand the instructions in the parens back there, but decide it just means you can butter the wax paper, so do that.

Sift flour, cocoa powder, baking soda and salt into a large bowl. Notice the smell of the cocoa powder has summoned the dog into the kitchen like a siren song, as he has unfortunately developed a taste for it and now has the habit of ransacking all guest's bags in hopes (and frequent actuality) of finding some, thus sending me to the vet/poison control hotline more times than I wish. Try not to drop too much on the floor for this very reason.

Cream butter and granulated sugar with a mixer until smooth. Add 2 eggs and 2 tsps vanilla, and beat until smooth, scraping down sides of bowl. Is that last part really necessary? Am I that much of a goon? Well, maybe.

Reduce speed to low; add flour mixture. Increase speed to medium; beat until incorporated. So far, so good.

Reserve 1 cup of dough; cover and refrigerate. Check. Press remaining dough into bottom of prepared dish.** Fail to understand why this part is supposed to be so difficult; you're just spreading the stuff onto the wax. Is it supposed to be compressed? Is it supposed to be perfectly smooth? I have no clue. It was fine.

Also, ignore the part about how the butter should be cool. That is just not going to happen. You are going to microwave it soft and dump it right in like always.

Refrigerate for about 30 minutes. Put the dish in the oven and preheat oven to 325 degrees. (Martha wants you to just put it in there after preheating, but Cathy the scientist is nervous about putting a cold glass dish into a hot oven, so she puts it in while it's preheating. I went with Cathy's method). Bake until base is set and edges are puffed, about 25 minutes. Let cool in dish on a wire rack, or just on the stove top because why do you need the wire rack if it's in the dish?

Mix cream cheese, confectioners' sugar, and remaining egg and 1/2 tsp vanilla in a medium bowl. I love how you need to know the size of the bowl. It's whatever bowl I want, damn it.

Spread over cooled base, or really, rather warm base. I mean, I'm not going to sit around and let it cool forever. Crumble (more break up) reserved dough on top. Cathy says she finds the cup quite a lot of dough, and they all enjoy eating bits of it raw. I was by myself and had already licked the beaters, so it all went in.

Bake until filling is set, 25-30 minutes. Let cool in dish on wire rack (again with the dish on the wire rack crap), then lift out using overhang. This is magnificent. Why have I not done this before?

Cut into 24 squares. Or fail to want to do the math for that and just cut it into as many squares as looks normal. Squares will keep, covered and refrigerated, for up to three days. Really? That's all? I'm going to test that.

*I think this amount of butter is insane, and in future would start trying to reduce it so the end result wasn't such a grease-fest

**Cathy note: Do this as best you can -- it's easier if your butter is still a little cool. I use the leftover butter wax paper instead of my bare hands. If it's being a pain, then put it in the fridge and then fix it when it comes out after 30 minutes--it's much more manageable.

Presbyterian Potatoes

2010-02-22T16:29:00.000-08:00

So, I went on a little unplanned Recipe Book hiatus. First it was President's/Valetine's Day weekend, which meant my parents came to town and we went to Palm Springs for a few days off in the sun. Not that it wasn't oddly extra sunny in LA, but still. Then, no sooner did they leave, but Tracie came out to visit from Boston on her winter break from school.

I should have foreseen that I had booked a shit-ton of activities with all the visitors and wouldn't be anywhere near my kitchen and at least been able to provide a warning. But I didn't. The best laid plans and all that.

So anyhow, my apologies for the surprise dark week on the blog, but now I'm back. And I come bearing potatoes.

Presbyterian Potatoes, to be exact. Presbyterian Potatoes were another eleventh hour entry from Cathy, who loaded me up with a handful of recipes out of the goodness of her heart, and possibly a little desire to stay the Recipe Book execution, as it were.

On the last night of Tracie's visit, we decided to make dinner. Each person contributed a piece. Tracie made Chicken Milanese, Josh made his killer mojitos (virtually demanded by Tracie when she sees him), and I kicked in Cathy's potatoes. By 'I kicked in Cathy's potatoes,' I mean I dubbed Tracie my sous-chef and we made them together. By 'we made them together' I mean I mostly handed her things and shouted out orders and she did it all. Still, combined effort I think.

Cathy's recipe explains that this recipe comes from her family in the South, who, although they are not Presbyterian, call them Presbyterian Potatoes. Now that she lives in Minnesota, her family there refers to them as Cheesy Potatoes, which is also considered hot dish.

Cathy tried explain to me what hot dish is--as though I am not married to an Iowan who told me about hot dish years ago! (For those of you not married to a Midwesterner, hot dish is basically anything in a casserole dish. It can be weird as shit, it just has to make sense being served in a casserole dish. Also, I think, as you would imagine, it is supposed to be hot.)

Side note: Cathy also tried to explain to me that in Minnesota they call 'Duck, Duck, Goose,' 'Duck, Duck, Grey Duck,' which would have wowed me had another native Minnesotan friend not blown my mind with that one years ago, too. Poor Cathy, beaten to the punch on all the weird Minnesota lore.

Anyhow, basically, Presbyterian Potatoes is a giant casserole dish full of potatoes and cheese and lots of other things that are bad for you and therefore taste great. Obviously, something I am going to love. As Josh isn't a fan of potatoes, I rarely get call to make something like this, so Cathy's recipe was a great excuse.

They were easy to make and came out as predicted - a giant hot casserole dish of potato goodness. What was not predicted was that Josh liked them. Enough to give himself seconds without prompting. Tracie was generally a fan, although she didn't like the onions. I know this because at the end of the meal, there was a pile of onions on her plate. That and she said, 'I don't like the onions,' which she claimed were underdone. Josh and I think she was crazy, though; the onions were good.

This picture blows. This is because the lighting in the
dining room really isn't very good for picture taking at night.
Also because I used our cheapie camera. Also because we all had too
many mojitos to care and I'm not a very good photographer
compared to the very skilled Josh. So there.

Cathy's Presbyterian Cheesy Whatever-You-Call-Them Potatoes

2 lb frozen hash browns*
1 pint sour cream (lite works fine)
1 can cream of chicken soup**
2 cups shredded cheddar cheese (or a Mexican cheese blend)
1 tsp salt (Kosher!)
pepper
1/2 cup chopped onions (Optional. Cathy omits. Tracie wishes I did. She is wrong.)***
1 stick butter, melted (Cathy uses only 1/2 stick)
1 sm box Corn Flakes (This 'small' size no longer exists...Use 1 1/2 - 2 cups)

Hand Tracie butter and your casserole dish and tell her she knows what to do. Ignore her shrieks that the butter is soft because you gave her the butter that lives outside the refrigerator in the butter dish, and therefore it is permanently, purposefully soft. Hello!

(Have Tracie) mix together all ingredients through the onions, which you choose to include because Cathy gives you so many variations on this recipe that your head melts so you just decide to go original on it and make the variations in the future. Which means you didn't do Cathy's alternative cream of chicken soup recipe, but you probably will next time. Which also means there probably will be no onions in the future as the doctor has recently told Josh they are one of the things he should cut out of his diet to control his acid reflux. Sadness.

(Have Tracie) mix the melted butter and Corn Flakes together and crumble on top of dish. Notice that the one stick of butter to 2 cups of Corn Flakes ratio seems insane as the Corn Flakes are dripping in a sea of butter, and understand why Cathy reduces it to a half stick. Sound decision, Cath.

Bake at 350 degrees for 40-45 minutes.

Note: You can assemble the dish and keep in the fridge. Then do not preheat the oven...just put the casserole in from the fridge and turn on to 350.

Has anyone here noticed that Cathy likes to use ellipses when she writes? Just saying.

*Cathy says: I sometimes use fresh potatoes -- peel & cube to 1/2" to 3/4" pieces. Boil in water until a sharp knife easily pierces the potato. Drain and let cool in the fridge while you do everything else. Once the potatoes are cool, add to the rest of the ingredients. But the first time you make it, use the frozen ones.

To which Heather says: While I generally vote for fresh over frozen, the ease of dumping the bag of frozen hash browns into the bowl is kind of hard to beat on this one. Also, I agonized whether to the get the shaved or cubed hash browns from the grocery, ignoring Tracie's pleas for cubed in favor of my love of shaved (yes, that sounds dirty). Given Cathy's description here, it should probably have been cubed, but damn it all, my love is not to be denied.

**Cathy has developed a replacement for the condensed soup recipe, which is lower in fat and sodium, says she. But tastes the same, says she. It goes as follows:

1 tbsp butter
3 tbsp all-purpose flour
salt and pepper to taste
1/2 cup low sodium chicken broth or 1/2 cup milk or 1/2 cup water
1/2 cup milk
[Note: You need 1 cup of total liquid in the form of all milk, milk/stock, or milk/water. Cathy has never tried the milk/stock, but claims it will work.]

Melt butter in saucepan over medium-low heat and add a few tbsp of the liquid to the butter. Stir in flour and keep stirring until smooth and bubbly (Cathy's never gets smooth and bubbly until she adds a a little more of the liquid). Remove from heat and add liquids, a little at a time, stirring to maintain smoothness.

Return to heat and bring to a gentle boil; cook, stirring constantly, until it thickens. Taste and adjust seasoning accordingly.

***Chopping method: Milch + Squeakykitty.

Marinade for 'Hot Chicken'

2010-02-11T10:18:00.000-08:00

The flip side of Cathy's Honolulu Soy Kabobs (literally, it's written on the back of the same card) is her recipe for a Hot Chicken Marinade. I would say I was dubious about this one for the same reasons -- big hunks of chicken, marinades generally disappoint, etc. -- but I had some hope thanks to the deliciosity (yes, I know it's not a word) of the soy kabobs. And this time my dubiousness -- of which of course there was some -- was a product of some of the ingredients.

Namely, the marinade calls for a cup of coffee in it. And while I do like coffee, I can't really stomach very much of it -- literally. The caffeine makes me insane and rips up my stomach lining. Josh, however, promised the marinade wouldn't get me hepped up, especially given that it wasn't going to marinate for 2 weeks or anything.

It turns out, as usual, that he was right and I was wrong. I did not have to fear the coffee. What I did have to fear, however, was the pepper.

You see, in addition to the coffee, Cathy's marinade calls for hot pepper flakes (i.e., the kind you put on your pizza--you, not me, I would never do that). That's not such a big deal in and of itself, but Cathy puts in a little note: toast the red pepper flakes in a frying pan for a few minutes on medium for added flavor.

That sounds harmless enough. Except she fails to mention that if you do that you are basically making pepper spray in your kitchen. I know this because after a couple of minutes the flakes started giving off a death vapor that immediately coated my lungs and made me cough uncontrollably.

You'd think that as both a Ph.D. in chemistry and someone who has presumably made this recipe before, Cathy would know this would happen. Which only leads me to conclude that she was trying to kill me.

WELL YOU FAILED! The joke is on you! I took the pepper flakes off the stove and survived! Ha-HA.

Also: I did not like the chicken. This could be because I did whole chicken breasts instead of the delightful kabobs. Or because I bore it ill will after the death vapor. Or, most likely, because I just didn't dig this marinade. I found it kind of harsh, which isn't surprising given that it is full of nasty stuff like coffee and pepper and just plain old hot, dry spice tends not to be in my accepted spectrum of yummy.

Josh, however, liked it, so he ate his chicken and then I fed him mine for left-overs.

So far, Cathy recipes = 1 and 1. Good thing she just sent me a bunch more. Hopefully none of them have poisonous chemicals only she knows about.

I'm just pleased I survived this stuff

Cathy's Death Marinade for Hot Chicken

1/2 cup soy sauce
1 cup strong coffee (brewed, not grounds!)*
1 clove garlic
1 tbsp garlic powder
1 tbsp oregano flakes
1 tbsp red pepper flakes (can toast for added flavor)**
1/2 tsp pepper
1 tbsp sugar

Mix together. Realize when you are writing this that she didn't say to mince the garlic, which you did because that is generally what you are supposed to do.

Toast red pepper flakes in a frying pan for a few minutes on medium. Toss the pepper around in the dry pan a little bit after a minute. After minute two, try to do this again, but quickly be overcome by the death vapors you can see coming up from the pan. Note to self: PEPPER VAPORS ARE PROBABLY NOT A GOOD THING. Not if you want to do things like, say, breathe. And continue living.

Turn off stove and cough heartily. Live on to marinate chicken for 'bunches' of hours and grill. Call Josh out to supervise, but actually remember how to do things like Turn Grill On and whatnot yourself. You Are Learning to Grill!

Make chicken. Do not like chicken. Give chicken to Josh.

*I very much appreciate this note, as this is a mistake I clearly could make and if nothing else would surely debate. It's like she knew my thinking before the blog started. Could this be because she lived with me for four years?'

**No. Don't. Not if you want to live.

Cathy note: Great with mashed potatoes!

Heather note: Probably, but Josh hates potatoes. Woe is me.

Spring Fling Sugar Cookies - REDUX

2010-02-08T09:38:00.000-08:00

Anyone who has been a regular reader will know that I do not generally do re-dos of recipes that I have mangled. I mean, I might make recipes more than once if I like them, or if I am pretty sure I would like them had I not done something like put in the entire lemon rind than just shavings, for example.

But I don't post the re-dos, that's just, okay, I did it, I think it is/would be good, I want to try it again. Just for me as a normal human, not part of the project.

Today I break that rule, specifically with Dorothy Lewis's Spring Fling Sugar Cookies. Josh took a sucker's bet with our friend Todd in a Kansas v Iowa State game (basketball? maybe?). Josh knew ISU wasn't going to win, but he still had to defend. The loser had to bake the winner cookies of the winner's choice. In this case, Tilzer claimed he liked iced sugar cookies. Cue the retake on Dorothy's sugar cookies.

I baked the cookies, Josh frosted them. Looks better than last time. And yes, we know these aren't either the ISU or Kansas colors, they are just the only icing ones they had at the grocery.

Tilzer - the cookies are in the mail.

Konafa bi Jibn

2010-02-03T15:39:00.000-08:00

Hello peeps. Sorry for the quiet days. Mike is in town, which means I am spending most of my time working with him on script brilliance. That, and supervising him rigorously, as every time I so much as turn my back for a minute he gets into something. And he's quick and quiet, too, like a cat. A weird, perverted, mischievous cat that likes to tell people I am a dying porn star and the like.

So far he has: hidden all my toilet paper (found many hours later in my underwear drawer), put tampons in the bathtub drain, changed all my Sirius presets to the gay station and the Christian station, put what I can only hope to be mouthwash into the toilet (the water was pink), changed my desktop to a rather...colorful...picture, and festooned my desk with scotch tape loaded with every office item he could find (mouse, stapler, pens, etc.). Not to mention the messages he routinely sends out informing people that I'm a racist pederast. Or something like that.

I retaliate by eating while I brainstorm, using too many vowels in my instant messages, and making my dog jump on him and hurt his already quite bad back. You do what you can.

I imagine that most people would kill him within about 10 minutes, but it appears that the hearty teasing I was treated to by my dad as a kid has primed me to find it amusing (thanks dad). And we actually get work done, so let's just call it our 'process' and move on.

Anyhow, all the writing/brainstorming/patrolling takes quite a lot of time and energy, so there hasn't been much cooking this week. There was, however, some cooking last weekend. Specifically, baking. Of a weird Sephardic recipe called Konafa bi Jibn that was given by my mom's cousin Leila and her husband Alan.

As my family is Ashkenazi, this is the first Jewish recipe we've gotten that is Sephardic. (Crib notes for the non-Jews: what I just said is my family is European and this recipe is Middle Eastern.) What this means on a practical level is that most of the Jewish food the Recipe Book has gotten is of the chicken-schmaltz-filled, heart-attack-inducing, liver and deli bagels variety rather than the honey/figs/nuts/goat legs variety. Or something.

I have been daunted by this recipe from the first time I laid eyes on it. First of all, it's called Konafa bi Jibn; there is nothing I can recognize in that, let alone pronounce. Second, it has a lot of weird ingredients that you can theoretically only get at specialty Middle Eastern groceries.

As a result, I have been basically avoiding this one as long as possible. But the witching hour is nearly here, so it's time to suck it up. Also, Josh's parents were here last weekend, and as Josh's dad was in Turkey in the Peace Corps and his mom was in Pakistan, I figured they would be prime candidates for a Middle Eastern style dessert. That, and they were planning on doing a ton of work helping us with DIY home projects, so I wanted to show them some gratitude.

Los Angeles has a sizable Middle Eastern population, so you would figure it would be easy enough to find the specialty ingredients (namely the rose water, the orange blossom water, and the pastry dough). You would figure wrong.

That is to say, I imagine there are a bunch of Middle Eastern groceries over on the west side in Westwood at the heart of the Persian population, but Westwood is a pain in the ass for me to get to. And given that I live in Los Angeles, and Los Angeles is all about the traffic, I try to avoid it. I googled 'Middle Eastern Grocery Los Angeles' and I Yelped it, in every permutation I could find. Still, I was only getting random, small looking places in Westwood--if that.

I tried a place that was supposed to be near me, on Santa Monica in Los Feliz. I went there, and found what amounted to an empty storefront with no signs. Josh and I tried a place in Burbank when we were out doing errands one day and basically wound up driving around in a vacant area by train tracks. Heroin or crack we might have found there. Konafa--not so much.

As Leila claimed the pastry can be found at 'Greek or Oriental' stores, I thought about going to Papa Cristos, this pretty great Greek restaurant & grocery down by USC (and therefore much nearer to me), or going to hunt around Chinatown. Or even sucking it up and going to fight traffic and the tight parking lot by Ma shti Malone's Persian ice cream parlor in Hollywood. They have rose water ice cream; it only stands to reason they might sell some rose water, too, along with a couple of the other non-ice cream type things they sell.

But still, the traffic. I just didn't want to spend hours upon hours going to place after place only to strike out again. Finally, I got brilliant. I changed my search to something like 'Persian grocery' instead of Middle Eastern and voila, I found a couple of places close to my house. This makes sense - I live very close to Glendale, the epicenter of LA Armenian culture. But surprise! There was another one, a closer one, a bigger one, in Glassell Park. I've hit the motherload!

Except I put the address wrong into the GPS and wound up driving to Burbank in rush hour traffic and having to turn around again. But I eventually made it to Glendale. Huzzah!

Side note: I just tried this Google search again so I could say what the name of the store was. You will not be surprised to discover it is not showing up in the results. I think it must have been called Brigadoon.

Anyhow, I get there, to Brigadoon, and it looks from the outside like a tiny hole in the wall gas station type market, kind of like the LA equivalent of a NYC bodega, except only frequented by scary people since here everyone drives their cars to the Trader Joe's with the biggest parking lots. Inside, it had surprisingly a lot of space though. I found the rose water and the orange blossom water very quickly. The pastry, though, was another story.

Between Leila's and the internet's description of konafa pastry, it sounded like it was sort of in the same realm as filo dough. So I headed to the freezer case, where I know filo is kept, and looked for it there. I found filo, and some other weird things, but no konafa. Great. I looked around the entire store. Maybe it isn't frozen, maybe it's a pastry they keep with the breads? No. With the baking things? No. With the crackers? No. I went back. It has to be in this damn freezer. I find something called kataifi, which, given that it is the only dough other than the filo and that it appears might fit Leila's description of konafa (i.e., 'vermicelli-like'), I deduce may be konafa. Or close enough to substitute after all the goddamn trouble I've gone to to get here.

I grab a box and head up to the charming, gas-station-like checkout counter, where I further push myself past my normal service industry person stoicism, point to the kataifi and say, 'Is this konafa?' The guy looks at me like I just spoke Hindi. 'Huh?' I repeat: 'This stuff. Is it like konafa?' He responds by fixing me with a look like I'm the world's biggest moron: 'It's the exact same thing.'

Okay, maybe his look wasn't that severe, but still. Note to Mr. Brigadoon: Don't expect the confused looking white girl to know that konafa and kataifi are the same thing. Although maybe he assumed that since I was buying konafa--an odd purchase for a consumer such as myself--that all bets were off?

Who knows. The point is I made it home, pleased as punch, pastry in tow. Oh, and I MADE THE RIGHT DECISION! I FIGURED IT OUT! FOR ONCE! I USED MY NOODLE AND THOUGHT, THIS HAS TO BE IT! INSTEAD OF LEAVING AND LEARNING LATER IT WAS IT! YEESSSS!!!!!

Never mind the fact that upon re-reading Leila's recipe she refers to it as kataifi in some places, a fact which I'd evidently missed before. Or that when I got home, I realized the pastry was going to have to thaw for an extended period of time, so it was going to have to be at least another day before I made it. We will not let either of these things overshadow the triumph of our narrative.

Making the actually Konafa bi Jibn was much easier than finding it--and I hadn't a clue what it was supposed to look like when it was done. The konafa pastry is, as Leila said, rather like spaghetti in appearance. It's nowhere near as delicate as filo, so you don't have to stress so much with it. And it basically just gets divided up into two buttery nest-like masses that you use for the top and the bottom.

Because I saw pastry and syrup and pistachio and filling in the recipe, I was busy billing Konafa bi Jibn as sort of a baklava meets cannoli type of dessert. I don't know if Ginny, Stu, Josh, and eventually Mike, who I gave some in between pranks, would necessarily agree with that description, but I'm not really sure what else to call it. Basically, it's like a ricotta pie. The weird pastry makes the crust, and then you shellac the top with the syrup and garnish with pistachios.

None of this made it sound like something I'd like. Although I do love Middle Eastern and Greek food, I do not generally love cannoli, baklava, or especially anything involving rose flavoring, which always tricks me (it smells so good, tastes so not). It turns out, however, I was pleasantly wrong; it was pretty nice. It's light, the pastry is crisp, the ricotta isn't too heavy. It isn't about to usurp cheesecake in my personal dessert hall of fame, but it was decent.

Namely the rose water wasn't too heavy, which is amazing, and that if you use a really light hand with it I don't mind it. While this recipe doesn't call for a light hand, the pie or whatever it was was overflowing with syrup after I poured only half of it on, so I had to stop. Lucky me. Josh and his parents clearly enjoyed it, as evidenced by the fact that they kept going back for more. Konafa bi Jibn. Indeed.

Konafa bi Jibn: It tastes all right. Just don't ask me to pronounce it.

Konafa bi Jibn, which is so hard to say I shouldn't add anything funny to the title
1 lb konafa pastry (aka Kataifi aka good God Damn luck finding it)
1/2 lb unsalted butter
2 lb ricotta
2 oz chopped pistachios

Syrup
1 lb sugar (which, if you are wondering, is a buttload of sugar)
1/2 pint water
squeeze of lemon juice (or a little more. you love your lemon juice.)
1 tbsp rose water
1 tbsp orange blossom water

Drive all over kingdom come looking for ingredients (see above). When you finally have them, ask someone to remind you to put the konafa into the refrigerator to defrost, because like filo, it comes frozen and needs to have about a day defrosting in the fridge before you can use it. Forget to then put it onto the counter for a final two hours of defrosting. Decide, 'God damn it, I am not stopping now,' and throw the damn stuff into the microwave for some final thawing. Bastard pastry.

Prepare the syrup by simmering the sugar water and lemon juice in a saucepan for 15 minutes until it is thick enough to coat a spoon. After 15 minutes, notice it does not appear much thicker, but at least you can taste some residue on the spoon. Good enough.

Add the flower waters towards the end and simmer for 30 seconds. Let it cool and then chill. In the fridge? In the freezer? Who knows? Put it into the fridge. When serving time comes around, you will learn you probably should have gone for the freezer as it is still warm. Readers: take note.

Melt the butter and let it cool a little before you pour it onto the pastry in a bowl. Or don't let it cool and burn your hands. Pull the pastry out (of the microwave--haha) and turn it until all the strands are well coated with butter.

Put half in a large round non-stick pan, or, in my case, a Pyrex bowl because why not? You have no idea what's going on anyhow. Spread the ricotta filling over it evenly and cover with the rest of the pastry. Flatten with the palm of your hand. Check.

Bake in a moderate 350-375 degree F oven for 45 minutes, then increase the heat to 450 degrees F for about 15 minutes until it is golden. Or discover it is mostly golden after the original 45 minutes (I used the 375 degree oven, and it shared with a pizza), so only put it in at 450 for a few and then shut off the oven and left it in to keep it warm while we ate said pizza.

Turn out on a round serving dish. Does this mean tip it over? This sounds like a very bad idea. Or does this mean just put our lovely oven-safe round baker onto a serving dish? This sounds much better. Do it this way.

Pour the cold syrup all over, discovering that you have WAY more than you need and the pastry can't suck it up fast enough. Not sure what this is all about. Decide to keep pouring anyhow, but it starts to overflow the dish and syrup the counter. Well, that will be enough then. Perhaps this is why you should put the pie plate on the serving dish? Perhaps this is why you are supposed to turn it out onto the dish? The dish has more room to accommodate the syrup? Ah, whatevs.

Chop up your cutely named 'pistachio nutmeats' (which makes me imagine a pirate parrot chanting, 'Nutmeat! Nutmeat!') procured from TJ's into what surely is way more than 2 ozs, but screw that, you get the point and can use what you want. Sprinkle with pistachios. Serve hot. So this is what Konafa bi Jibn looks like. Huh.

Leila note: This crisp vermicelli-like pastry with a cheese filling eaten hot with a fragrant syrup poured over was an important party dish in Egypt and Syria. The pastry called kataifi is sold in oriental stores or Greek stores.

Heather note: Or Persian stores. Or Iranian stores. Or Armenian stores. Or Middle Eastern stores. Or something, whatever Google can give you to a place that actually exists and isn't a thousand miles away. God be with you on your attempt to find one.

Honolulu Soy Kabobs (aka Hawaiian Chicken)

2010-01-28T09:40:00.000-08:00

This week was my old roommate Cathy's birthday, and as a fortuitous coincidence I happened to be cooking one of her recipes. Seriously, I didn't plan this.

Cathy and I first met at freshman orientation at college, at which point we discovered we would be living on the same floor of the same dorm. We became fast friends and lived together every year afterward, both of which facts are pretty interesting given that we are very different people.

Cathy, a well-behaved chemistry student, would routinely do things like wake up out of a dead sleep to come to the kitchen and make sure I didn't burn the house down should I decide at 2 AM that what I needed to do was boil eggs (why I was boiling eggs at 2 AM is another story). I would routinely go to her room and make fun of her for doing things like being anal enough to tweeze hairs out of her dustbuster (note: adding insult literally to injury, said hairs were most likely mine after I'd borrowed aforementioned dustbuster). Peas and carrots we were.

In the frightfully many ensuing years since college, Cathy has gone on to become a doctor of chemistry (dear lord) and lives with her husband and two boys in the Twin Cities. We do not get to see each other anywhere near enough (I've never met either of the boys, although I have at least visited after a week at a Unitarian family camp in Northern Minnesota with Josh's family--naturally). However, I do enjoy periodic emails from her which describe the most recent July snowstorm or winter mud-fly infestation or whatever other horror of nature they get up there, as well as photos of her ever-blonder brood.

Amongst other things, Cathy is an avid reader of this blog, and has been very concerned that she didn't send me a recipe. So concerned that she recently sent me an article on various ways to top/finish a pie, which I must say I am pretty excited to have. But that aside, I have tried to assure her that I knew her recipes were lurking, and now the day has come.

Cathy gave me a recipe for Honolulu Soy Kabobs (aka Hawaiian Chicken), i.e., a BBQ marinade that she and her husband Dave like to use on chicken kabobs. I will admit I had my reservations about this recipe. Well, okay, maybe not reservations, per se, but I didn't Expect the Best, as they say in Singles. Here are my reasons:

1. I do not really like chicken all that much. I don't dislike it, per se, I'm more neutral-to-eh on it. Let's just say that if being vegetarian only involved not eating chicken, I would totally do it and it wouldn't be very hard.

2. I have not had amazing experiences with marinades. Not that they all taste the same or are all terrible or whatever, but in general they just don't seem to do much, don't hold the flavor, blah blah. Have I not been marinating long enough? Have I used sucky marinades? I don't know. I just know my marinade experience to date has been underwhelming.

3. Cathy's taste in food (and I suppose most things) tended to be more conservative than mine did. This is based on four years in college, which was over 10 years ago. So obviously very current information.

Still, I figured this was more of an exercise in eh than anything else.

I am pleased--nay delighted--to inform you that I was gravely mistaken. As it turns out, Cathy's Soy Kabob marinade (and ensuing Soy Kabobs) were really, really good. Color me surprised. The marinade, for some inexplicable reason actually really stayed with the chicken, so even post-BBQing they were really tasty. And the taste was great--just tangy enough. I couldn't believe it. I ate my whole thing. And then I had the rest the next morning for breakfast. Oh yeah, you heard me. I have started eating dinner food for breakfast. It makes me much happier, so stick it.

Furthermore, Cathy's Kabobs have another distinguishing factor: they were my inaugural BBQ recipe. Throughout my marriage, and even before, I have stalwartly refused to learn to use the BBQ, on the auspices that if I learned how to use it that would be one more thing I would have to do. As long as I stayed unawares, BBQing is a chore I could slough off onto Josh. I think this was a good plan.

But the Recipe Book wanted me to BBQ, so a BBQing Heather it got. Josh stood out on the porch with me and coached me through my first grilling experience. And it couldn't have been with a nicer dish.

Jealous much? Oh yeah, it kicked ass.
(Gorgeous photo provided by the always awesome Josh Huntington)

Cathy's Surprise Soy Kabobs of Deliciousness

(for 1 1/2 cup of marinade sauce)
3/4 cup soy sauce (lite works well)
3/4 cup pineapple juice (6 oz can, which it turns out you have to get in a 6 pack, so you can do this lots more times, and drink pineapple juice while you make it)
1/2 cup cooking oil (canola--yes! i finished my old bottle and finally have space to put the weird new one, which looks like a liquid laundry detergent bottle, in the drawer)
1 1/2 tsp dry mustard
1 1/2 tbsp brown sugar
1 1/2 tsp ginger (ground)
1-2 cloves of garlic, chopped
1/4 tsp freshly ground pepper (so fresh you ground with your mill because you are out of ground pepper)

chicken and other things for kabobs (pineapple, onions*, green pepper, tomatoes, mushrooms)

Combine all ingredients for marinade (soy through pepper) in a saucepan and simmer 5 mins, whisking occasionally. Think, hum, this looks kind of foamy and separate and greasy and weird, as there appears to be two distinct colors in the liquids, but whatevs.

Cool. Or forget to cool and wonder if, when you put the freshly very hot marinade into the plastic marinating bag with the chicken, you are going to melt the bag and cause a marinade explosion all over the kitchen/fridge. Decide to remedy this problem by putting the marinade bag in a large bowl to catch the juice should the worst occur.

Marinate 1 1/4" pieces of skinned & boneless chicken for 4-8 hours (2 will work, but more is better!). Opt for more like 3 hours because a girl's gotta eat. In retrospect, wonder of the deliciosity of an 8 hour marinade with this stuff. Yum.

When Josh gets home, have him give you instructions on how to use the BBQ, which involves picking up the grate and lighting it, which seems like you're just asking for trouble. Be thankful that the rain stopped, because otherwise this would be one soggy lesson.

Add chicken and other stuff listed above to skewers and grill (yes) or broil (cheating!). Spend way longer than you expected adorning (metal) skewers (that were a wedding present from ?? yay registry!) with onion, orange pepper, tomato, mushroom, pineapple, and chicken, making sure to sprinkle raw-chicken-infused marinade droplets all over the counter/into the pineapple tin (so much for those extra pieces)/on the dog's head. He should get a bath.

Learn that Josh says for skewer type things, you should turn the grill down to medium, put skewers on right next to each other, and then flip them after about 5 minutes. Do this. After 10 minutes (i.e., 5 per side) have Josh declare them done.

Serve with rice, or green beans and garlic bread because that is what you have so that is what you'll get.

Cathy notes: Much love on your wedding day and throughout your marriage. So happy you found each other.

Heather notes: Thanks! Me too.

*Cutting method: Squeaky Kitty, as kabob onions have to be cut in a specific shape, Mike Milch's method is DQed here. Note, I have no idea what that specific shape is.

Super Tasty BBQ Sauce

2010-01-21T13:42:00.001-08:00

It's been raining all week here. Hardly cause for alarm, but in LA it is perfectly reasonable to think this is the end of the world/cancel your plans/call in sick to work. Partially I think this is because it is gorgeous 360 days of the year, so it actually isn't totally insane to just avoid it when it's bad. And partially it's because this city clearly isn't exactly built to withstand much rain - even moderate downpours result in massive streams running down the sides of the streets. And, you know, mudslides and all that.

Luckily, the mullet is fine. No leaks (yet). And there's enough good weather each day to get the dog emptied out and possibly walked, although I think he and the cat do have some degree of cabin fever. I think this because they both stare at me, willing me to open the door, and then they run to it with glee, only to stop when they see it is wet outside and look unbelievably depressed and look at me like, 'Can't you do something about this, lady?'

This sucks.

Mommy. Fix it.

Regardless, the weather outside finally matches the mood of the Recipe Book. My next recipe was for Super Tasty BBQ Sauce from Shauna and her then-boyfriend, Rob (versus her now-husband, Bryan). This initially gave me pause as I figured I was going to have to figure out what to put said BBQ Sauce on, but then I noticed at the bottom of the recipe Shauna recommends using it for pulled pork.

So pulled pork it was, which is fun, since pulled pork was basically a mystery to me. I am a Yankee; BBQ to me was some hamburgers or maybe chicken on the grill. The pulled pork/ribs type of stuff I only encountered much later in life, mostly when traveling. Josh, however, spent a good portion of his youth (and adulthood for that matter) going to (and at one point working at) a BBQ joint called Hickory Park--an Ames institution where you can glut yourself on things like fried cheese balls (delicious), an endless choice of ice cream sundaes, and sandwiches with names like "The Saucy Southerner."

As you can imagine, he was more than a little excited when he discovered pulled pork was on the menu. It went a little something like this:

Me: I'm making pulled pork for dinner.
Josh: PULLED PORK?!!!?!?!!?

(an hour goes by)

Josh: I want pulled pork.

(another hour goes by)

Josh: Is it pulled pork time yet?

(another hour)

Josh: Do you think I can leave work early for my PULLED PORK?!

Okay, I might be exaggerating; he didn't try to leave work early. But nonetheless, he was excited enough that by the time he got home for dinner he was basically reduced to a two word vocabulary. I'll let you guess what those words were.

This guy loves himself some pulled pork

For my part, the pulled pork demystification process was lovely. First, I got to discover how to use the slow cooker, which I have never used before and was afraid of. Josh bought one a few years ago in order to craft some chili for a workplace competition (which, I am pleased to report, he won). Periodically he hauls it out for some concoction or another (i.e., more chili), but I am content to leave it moldering in the back of a hard-to-reach cabinet.

Shauna's recipe basically says 'throw a pork roast in the pot and cook it and then add the sauce.' I figured I'd search the internet for some more instruction just to be on the safe side. For example, What temperature do I set it at? Turns out the crock pot only has Hi and Low, but still. Is all day 4 hours or 8 hours or...? Also, Do I just throw it in alone?

The sauce is another recipe like Sweet & Sour Meatballs - it seems more like you're throwing together everything in your refrigerator maybe to make something gross to feed to someone as a joke than anything else. Just, 'Hey, it's in the shelf, and it's red. Let's do it!'

Josh's first impression was that it was a little too salty, which I will attribute to the ample amount of soy sauce that goes in there. I didn't think so, though. I though it tasted tangy and tasty and good, like BBQ sauce should. Is it that much better than just using regular store-bought BBQ sauce? I don't know. I'm not exactly a BBQ sauce connoisseur; I think it's all awesome. But I'll believe it's better. And Josh is already requesting his left overs for dinner, so...

Double, double, toil and... oh, is that pulled pork? Why didn't you say so before!

Shauna's Super Tasty BBQ Sauce
1/2 cup soy sauce
1/2 cup ketchup
1/2 cup bottle taco sauce
1/2 cup bottle bbq sauce (I used Sweet Baby Ray's because, well, that's what we had)
1/2 cup light brown sugar (or regular brown sugar; I mean, I keep it in a canister, let's just be happy I have it at all)
6 tbsp lemon juice
3 garlic cloves - crushed
1 tsp garlic powder (really, after the cloves? wow. ok.)
1 tsp hot pepper sauce
1 tsp chili powder
1/2 tsp dry mustard

Go to ghetto grocery, wondering things like, 'What the @#$ is taco sauce?' and 'Do I have enough ketchup/bbq sauce/etc. at home?' Get extra. Smart move.

Bring all ingredients to a boil in a sauce pan, whisking to blend. Reduce heat to low and simmer for 10-15 minutes. Double the recipe (see below), which means you are carefully reminding yourself with every single ingredient you measure out that you must double it, all the while wondering which one you will forget to double. Answer: None. SURPRISE!

Also, 12 tbsp of lemon juice? There has to be a better measure than that. There is. It turns out it is 3/4 cup. Thank God.

Shauna note 1: We make a double batch of this recipe and use it to make pulled pork in the crock pot. All you do is buy a pork roast (about 4-8 lbs)* and put it in the crock pot and cook all day. Take out and shred and return to pot w/ sauce!

Shauna note 2: The pulled pork recipe is really incredibly easy to make and everyone loves it. It's better to let the pork cook with the sauce for another hour or two after returning shredded pork and sauce to the crock pot...

Google things like 'Pulled Pork Crock Pot Recipe,' and do a skim of the results, determining the following:

1. Indeed, you do not put the pork roast in dry. Recipes suggest a varying degree of other stuff, notably water. Put pork roast in with the crock pot filled 2/3s of the way with water.

2. Recipes suggest other things along with this, e.g., parsley, salt, etc. As Shauna's recipe doesn't suggest any seasoning for the pork itself, skip this, save for one thing: onions. Most recipes suggest an onion at the bottom and an onion at the top (chopped, natch). As you fear that is essential to the pork not burning on the bottom, chop up two onions--one for the pork's ass and one for the pork's hat--and chuck 'em in with it.**

3. It appears from the recipes you can either cook pork for 8-10 hours on low or 4-5 hours on high. This is nice as it sorts the Low/High quandary. This is not nice because between this info and re-reading Shauna's instructions, you are realizing you need to cook it for much longer than anticipated.

Decide you will do low for 8 hours, and then put the BBQ sauce and pork in the fridge overnight (separate, of course), and finish them off for the final 2 hour simmering together tomorrow night so you can eat at a normal time.

Tupperware up the sauce. Put pork in crock pot and go on with your life. At 9PM realize pork needs at least two more hours, so find crap to watch to keep you up late enough to not forget about it and give it the cooking it deserves.

Hit the kitchen around 11, planing on just putting the pork in the fridge for shredding at a decent hour (i.e., tmw) because you are not in the mood to tackle figuring out how to shred pork after a 2 hour movie on South American hermaphrodites. Dump roast, onions, and water into a giant strainer and discover to your surprise that the real magic of pulled pork isn't so much that it requires pulling; rather it quite gleefully hurls itself from the bone and falls into the perfect recognizable pulled pork type bits. So, take the next 30 seconds to finish the job for it. Thank you pork.

Go to bed. Get up. Go about next day, which is slightly slowed now that Josh knows he is having pulled pork for dinner. Throw pork and sauce into crock pot, which you are now an expert with, for the final go-round. Feed to a very happy husband.

*Four lbs. I mean, eight? Come on. This is just for Josh and me. Let's get real.

**Onion chopping method: Mike Milch's weird cutting, because you used the last of your lemons on the lemon juice part. Which is sad because that lemon juice is really the life saver of the onion chopping.

BBQed Hawaiian Chicken

2010-01-14T15:12:00.000-08:00

So, I had written a whole entry about my mother's BBQed Hawaiian Chicken and was all set to go. I started with a lovely little bit about how we entered the final section: BBQs and blah blah blah.

Although the entry was fine, it was also missing the best story about it. You see, my mother's BBQed Hawaiian Chicken recipe is one of my favorites. It's tasty and tangy and probably coats your arteries with an inappropriate amount of goo. It also contains onions--in the form of Lipton Onion Soup Mix, but still, onions nonetheless.

The first time I learned this fact was probably when I was in college. I liked the recipe and asked for it. She started telling me how to make it. "Well, you mix in the Russian dressing and the preserves..." Then her voice got hushed and her eyes got shifty, "And you put in Lipton Onion Soup Mix."

"Yeah, okay," I said, not getting it. She looked me in the eyes. "Your father doesn't know."

"WHAT?!" I said.

"You can't tell him," she giggled desperately. "If he finds I've been feeding him onions all these years, he'll divorce me."

I quickly realized she was probably right and promised lifelong secrecy. You see, here's the thing: my father hates onions. Despises them. Not, like, in a childish way. If they, say, touch his salad, he will move them off and then still eat it. But he enjoys informing everyone within earshot that he will barf should he be forced to eat them. He also enjoys informing people that the best way to handle a snake in your house is to burn down your house, but I digress.

The point here is this: My mother's BBQed Hawaiian Chicken recipe contains onion soup mix. And my mother has been making this recipe for 40 years or something like that--and feeding it to my father. Without telling him about the onions.

When she realized I was embarking on this Recipe Book Project, at some point she said: I think that chicken recipe is in there. I quickly assured her that she shouldn't worry. I'd just skip it. She generously offered that it would be okay either way, but I promised to keep the onion secret and the onion secret I was going to keep.

Then when we found the recipe in the book--at the opening of the BBQ chapter--I told Josh I was going to skip it. He suggested I just list the onion soup mix as "secret ingredients redacted" or something like that, which it seemed was actually quite a sound idea. I took his advice, cooked the chicken wings, and wrote up my entry that way, figuring I could just offer to divulge the "secret," which is really only a secret from my father, to anyone who wanted to try them should they ask.

I emailed the 'secret ingredients' text to my mother for her approval and waited. This is the response I got:

'Thank you for not wanting to blow my cover with the chicken wing recipe. I always felt bad about serving it to Dad, but a funny thing happened on my way to reading your email...Dad needed to get into my hotmail account, we saw your email and opened it together. Dad read the first sentence and said,"What the hell is she talking about?"

So, I told him and he said he already knew that and used to scrape most of it off! I never saw him do that. In any case,the "secret ingredients" are no longer a secret, Dad and I are still married, and you can write your blog without worrying about my going to the poor house. :)
Love,
Mom
p.s...not to worry, Dad was smiling.'

Which, frankly, makes sense. I mean, it's not like those onion bits are subtle. You can totally see them. Still, hilarious.

The worst part about this is, I actually contemplated the possibility that he would for some reason or another see her email and therefore resisted the urge to refer to it even by 'onion soup mix' and was just alluding to it (until the very end, at which point I broke down and called it by it's proper name just for clarity's sake). I mean, after all it is her email; there is only so much I can do. If she is going to let other people read it, that's her prerogative.

So goes the caper of the Onion Soup Mix.

Almost worth getting divorced over

Rechelle's Not So Secret Hawaiian BBQed Chicken

1 12 oz jar apricot preserves
1 8 oz bottle Wishbone Russian salad dressing (red)
1 envelope Lipton Onion Soup Mix
1 lg package chicken wings

Go to grocery store for ingredients, where you notice that not only is your mother specifying sizes of preserves & dressing, but that she is specifying sizes that do not appear to exist. Go with the sizes you usually use/can find, which is 16 oz dressing and 18 oz preserves. NB: You would tease your mother about her usual brand-loyalty in specifying Wishbone dressing, but in this case it makes sense--most other Russian dressing is that creamy orange kind (like Thousand Island with relish). This recipe calls for the red kind (like Catalina with an extra twang), which is, you must say, Wishbone's brand.

Enjoy the hilarity of 'one lg package chicken wings' because that is just not specific at all. Since there are only small packages of 'party wings' at the ghetto grocery, get two of those, and determine party wings are delightfully petite wings. Cute.

Cover bottom of large baking pan with aluminum foil. Place two wire racks on top of aluminum foil to take up entire length of pan. Wonder what the hell your mother is talking about, as A. you have always just made this by putting the wings directly onto the pan, B. can't figure out the benefit of doing the aluminum foil/wire rack method, and C. what size racks is she talking about? One of my wire racks, which are cookie/cake cooling racks, is more than enough.

Seriously, where would the second one go?

Combine everything but the chicken in a large bowl. Rinse chicken wings thoroughly under very hot water (because my mother is certain that 'chicken comes dirty,' which I suppose it does, and only the best scalding will prevent inevitable death) and add them to the mixture, covering them completely with the mixture. Cover bowl and refrigerate at least one hour while you and Josh go for a walk with the dog to fight the fat asses this Recipe Book Project appears to have summoned.

Place chicken wings on wire rack in baking pan because this is the Recipe Book and you will do it the Recipe Book Way if you can, but really, it's fine sans rack and tinfoil. Leave room at edges so that sauce doesn't drip onto interior of oven, or ignore that because that's what oven cleaning is for. Using a spoon, cover each chicken wing with sauce. Place in pre-heated 350 degree oven. Cook for approx 1 hour or until chicken wings are browned (45 minutes), it turns out. Eat, undoing all the good you did on that walk.

Write blog, referring to onion soup mix as 'secret ingredients.' Mail said blog to your mother for approval before going live. Have mother out herself. Rewrite blog. She would not be a good spy.

Rechelle note: You can also grill these on the gas or charcoal grill if you prefer. To do this, cook chicken wings until nearly tender, turning occasionally. Brush with sauce. Cook 15 minutes more, basting occasionally. I always used the oven baking process.

Heather note: Hmm, does sound good on the grill...

No-Knead Food Processor Challah

2010-01-11T10:14:00.000-08:00

As I said last week, Tilzer, in some sort of psychic attunement, sent me a recipe for Challah at the very second I was pointing out how many (or rather how few) recipes I had left. No-Knead Food Processor Challah, to be exact.

I have not made Challah before. In fact, I'm not sure I have made bread before. Usually I buy bread, but if you want to make bread in my house, you do it like this:

Me: "Josh!"
Josh: "Yes."
Me: "Will you make bread please?"
Josh: "Yes."

Then clink clink clunk clunk, "Heather, where is the--never mind, I found it," buzz, buzz, whir, beeep, feet happily running up the stairs, "Bread's ready!"

These are the perks of marrying a man so excited about bread making that he actually came into the relationship with his own bread maker. And also explains why we have about 300 packages of active dry yeast in the pantry. However, yesterday Josh's tenure as the sole bread-maker in the house was up. Fitting, I guess, that I cut my teeth on Challah. I mean, Josh might know how to make normal bread, but leave it to the Jewess wife to weave the ropes of the chosen people.

Being wet behind the ears, bread-making-wise, Tilzer obviously chose to send me the lowest fuss No Knead Food Processor Challah recipe, which I am sure is magnificent--if you have a food processor big enough to fit more than half a carrot. I, however, have mini-processor, so accommodations had to be made. Thankfully, this is not the first time I have had this issue, so I knew I could just sub out to the mixer. And amazingly at some point in the past few months Josh pointed out that one of the other two mystery attachments to the mixer (i.e., the non-beater ones), which have dwelt in ignominy so long at the bottom of my baking drawer that I didn't even remember they were actually mixer attachments, is the 'dough arm' or something like that. So I even pulled that baby out and used it.

Long story short, here are the things you want to know:

1. The Challah is slightly labor-intensive. This is because of all the do a little bit of work, then let it rise, then do some more work, then let it rise some more bullshit involved in making it. And possibly all non-bread maker bread? It's not so much labor-intensive, I guess, as you just have to allot a good portion of time during which you will be home. We were home all night, but I still had to stop playing Beatles Rock Band more than once to go attend to bread needs. Get it? Kneads? Hahaha. Ahem.

Do some shit to your dough. Then cover it in a damp tea towel.
Then do more shit to the dough.
Then cover it again in another wet tea towel.
Thank God I have an inappropriate amount of tea towels.

2. I am picky about bread. Not so much about type as about freshness. This is my recent realization that good, fresh bread makes all the difference in the world. Dead, preservative-filled crap that you keep in the fridge for 6 months doesn't make me want to eat a sandwich. Fresh, crusty stuff of nearly any variety, however, is lovely.

3. I like Challah. Of all types of bread, however, challah tops my own personal charts. This challah turned out pretty good. I know this because I kept nibbling pieces off it after it came out of the oven. And then had it again for breakfast and will use it for lunch. I could even taste the honey in it, and even though it was orange blossom honey it worked well. It was a little dense, but that is probably my fault and not the recipe's. Also the loaves came out a little long and thin, but that is undoubtedly because I rolled the ropes too long and thin and should better appreciate this next time so as to make stouter, plumper loaves.

Ultimately: Tilzer's Challah gets the thumbs up. I am sure this will improve with time/experience/a proper sized food processor.

Shalom Aleichem

Todd Tilzer's No-Knead Food Processor Challah for the Mixing Bowl Because Your Food Processor is Too Small

One (1/4 oz) pkg active dry yeast
1 tsp sugar
1/4 cup warm water
4 1/2 cups flour, unbleached all-purpose or bread flour
2 tsp salt (Kosher!)
3 egg yolks, plus 1 egg yolk beaten with 2 tsp water
1 cup hot water
1/3 cup honey (+ more to taste)
2 tbsp oil (canola)
sesame or poppy seeds (hell no)

1. Dissolve yeast and sugar in warm water. Stir and frown because yeast is not dissolving. Set aside until bubbly. Frown more because it is not bubbling. Stare at it a lot worriedly while you measure out other things as it refuses to either dissolve or bubble. Decide it must be a dud and throw it away, thanking heaven (or Josh) for the fact that you have 3400 packages of yeast in your pantry.

Try again, this time with warmer water (It may be possible that you had measured out the water and then let it sit for too long and thus is got too cool before. Maybe. Probably.). Yeast and sugar immediately dissolve and bubble. Still fret that the bubble isn't bubbly enough. Get Josh's knowledgeable sign off: "Yes, that yeast is active." Score.

With metal blade in place add flour and salt to processor; pulse four times. Or rather, try to dump a fraction of the flour into the processor, confirm that there is no way in Hell you are going to get it all in there, and dump the whole thing into the mixer. Experience the joy of attaching the pastry arm and set it to mix at medium for what you think approximates four pulses. God knows.

Add 3 egg yolks, the hot water, (orange blossom) honey (that you had to thaw in a bowl of hot water for a while because it had solidified in the refrigerator where you'd put it last summer to hide it from the kitchen ants) and oil. Notice that the honey is still quite condensed, so lord knows how much you are actually using, but it is probably quite a bit more than what would be the 1/3+ cup were it not still kind of a paste. Pulse four times (or whatever).

Add yeast. Process until ball forms and/or Josh comes by and says, "Don't knead the shit out of it," which is unfortunate because there are still some hunks of unmixed honey peeking out. If too sticky (yes), add flour by the tbsp (or just a little and then pretend it's good enough). Process 1 minute more.

2. Place dough in greased bowl; turn to grease top, which is difficult as the ball is still a little too sticky and therefore somewhat unruly. Cover with a damp tea towel (oh tea towels) and let rise in warm place until doubled, 1-2 hours, which is hilarious because it is never noticeably that much bigger to you so what the hell? Go downstairs and eat dinner and attempt to play Beatles Rock Band drums on hard (you are amazing). *Meanwhile, lightly grease two 8x4" loaf pans (no).

3. Begrudgingly abandon your drumming. Punch down dough. Divide in half. Divide one half into three balls. Roll each ball into a rope with palms of hands, which becomes increasingly difficult as more dough sticks to your hands making them stickier. Dump some flour on the balls to tame them.

Braid 3 ropes to form challah. Repeat with second half of dough. Place loaves in prepared pans (no), or on greased cookie sheet (yes) or ungreased cookie sheet with parchment paper (no), and cover with a towel (shocker). Let rise in warm spot until doubled, 1 to 1 1/2 hours. Watch season premiere of Big Love. Preheat oven to 375 degrees.

4. Brush egg yolk and water onto challah and sprinkle with seeds (or not--definitely not! who does this?! sacrilege!!). Run bath water, which you then let overflow slightly and leak onto the bathroom floor. Woops. Bake 25-30 minutes, until nicely browned, which it is, and bottom of challah sounds hollow when tapped, which it doesn't, probably because it is too dense. Let cool on wire rack.

*Optional.

Tamale Pie

2010-01-07T09:56:00.000-08:00

Matt and Elisabeth's other contribution (on the flip side of Matt's Spicy Tuna Pasta) is Elisabeth's Tamale Pie, which, as near as I can tell, is like a baked version of chili with the cornbread included. Of course it is. Why would you guys give me a recipe that isn't chili? I mean, that would be silly.

All chili jokes aside, Elisabeth's recipe is a monumental one. That is because it is the last of the official Main Dishes. There is only one more section (aside from the ubiquitous desserts) left - the Barbecue section. As I have been nearing the end of the Recipe Book, I think I have been making fewer and fewer recipes per week, perhaps in a subconscious effort to stretch it out. Or because the pressure of a zillion recipes waiting to be done wasn't there. Or because of the holidays. Anyhow.

The fact is I have been jealously combing the remaining recipes, staring at each precious little one that I have left. Which at this point totals six--no, wait, seven--Tilzer, in some sort of fit of ESP just IMed me and announced he wanted to give me a challah recipe, so I guess that one's on the slate now, too.

I'm not certain what I'm going to do when I'm done with this. Am I going to open the bidding to recipes from all readers? Am I going to give the Recipe Book treatment to another (normal) cook book? I don't know that I'm in the mood to go through another appetizers and breakfasts for dinner section again so soon. Well, I've got some time yet to work it out.

In the meantime: Tamale Pie, which as I said is basically chili pie with cornbread in. I'm not sure why it is called 'Tamale Pie' per se, as I think tamales are those things wrapped in corn husks (which, it must be said, also mystify me: why wrap your food in something you can't eat it in? All very confusing). But I don't have to name it, I just have to eat it. So.

I made the Tamale Pie last night, at the end of one of my very favorite types of days. I did a few solid hours of script writing work in the morning, so I got to spend the afternoon getting some chores sorted - namely putting a coat of primer on the ceiling in Josh's forever under-construction office. I got into this pattern for a time last winter/spring - writing (and finishing my writing) in the morning, and then getting to do some house-demo work in the afternoon. It suits me marvelously.

By 5, I was changing out of my painting clothes into my pajamas. I'm a messy painter at the best of times (as my friend Karen and I say, our painting company would be called Fast 'N Sloppy), and painting the ceiling exacerbates things, so my face, hands, and hair were thoroughly coated in little dots of white. At least I got the giant glob that dropped right on my nose ring off. That was a moment of unfair panic.

There's not much to be said about the Tamale Pie-making process. It's about medium effort - enough ingredients to feel like you're doing something, but not enough to make it a huge hassle. Which, as we know, I think is mostly anything that involves repeatedly cutting pastry.

But anyhow, some beans, some cumin and chili powder, onions, garlic and green peppers. The usual chili routine. But this time you dump it into the baking dish (which, I admit, I found amusing) and cover it with the spiced up cornbread mix and bake for a bit while you drink wine and make salad and forbid Josh from playing Little Big Planet until you can join him.

As for the pie, it tasted as it should - like chili with cornbread. Josh first proclaimed his standard, 'It's good,' but then a minute later upped the ante with, 'It's really good,' and started eating with greater verve. I will say that I found myself much more excited about the cornbread part of this, if only because I think we can safely say at this point I have had more than enough chili to last a lifetime. For it's part, the cornbread was actually pretty spectacular. I just used the usual jiffy cornbread mix, which in general I have found underwhelming on the cornbread front. But the cheese and the cilantro mixed in somehow made it much sweeter than usual, I think. So that was fun.

Anyhow, ding dong, Main Dishes are done. To BBQ and victory!

I think we can all agree that the orange silicone baking square
wasn't the most aesthetically pleasing option for this dish

Elisabeth's Tamale AKA Chili+Cornbread Pie

1 cup chopped green pepper (aka 1 green pepper)
1/2 cup chopped onion (aka 1 medium red onion)*
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 tbsp cooking oil (canola)
1 15 oz can kidney beans, rinsed, drained, slightly mashed
1 15 oz can pinto beans, rinsed, drained, slightly mashed
1 6 oz (2/3 cup) vegetable juice
1 4 oz can diced green chile peppers, undrained
1 tsp chili powder and 1/2 tsp ground cumin
1 8 1/2 oz package corn muffin mix (Jiffy, if you must know)
1/2 cup shredded cheddar cheese (2 oz)
1/4 cup fresh cilantro

Grease a 2 qt square baking dish. Set aside. Wonder if your orange silicone baking dish is 2 qts. Well, it is the only really square one you have, so there's that.

Anally measure out chopped onion and green pepper, swiftly realizing that it was basically one green pepper and one onion. Okay, don't measure it anally--that's bad grammar usage. But measure it out because you are being anal-retentive. Or with your butt. Okay, I measured it with my butt. Surprise!

In medium skillet cook sweet pepper, onion, and garlic in hot oil until tender. Realize you are going to let this happen while you measure out the rest of the stuff, which would make Josh insane if he were in the kitchen seeing these things not being tended every second. Put out lid in case you decide to set another fire, and also because it will be one less thing Josh will ask you about when he inevitably comes in and sees said vegetables on the stove and not being watched constantly.

Suck it up and actually rinse, drain, and mash the beans this time. Which is odd. I mean, first of all, you have to drain them before you can rinse them, so you are going to have to go out of order on Elisabeth's instructions. Also, they don't so much mash up very well, especially the kidney beans. It's more like you are breaking off the outside on a couple of them. Is this what you are supposed to do? And is the potato masher really the tool for this? God only knows.

Stir in now slightly mangled kidney and pinto beans, vegetable juice, chile peppers, chili powder and cumin, heat through. Wonder who on earth likes vegetable juice, and more to the point, why did you even have any lying around in your fridge in the first place? Remember being five and informing your dad it was gross that he drank tomato/vegetable juice back then. Suspect now it was actually a Bloody Mary in disguise. That disguise being, 'I am drinking tomato juice. Go play in traffic.'

Side note: Did anyone else's father tell them to go play in traffic? And then giggle maniacally? This is clearly why I can tolerate my writing partner signing onto IM, telling me everyone in Australia hates me, and then signing off. And by tolerate I mean find extremely amusing. Thank you Dad.

Spoon bean mixture into baking dish.

Prepare corn muffin mix according to package (which, FYI, involves and egg and some milk, which it turns out we once again only have Lactaid left, and it worked very well Thank You Very Much); add cheese and cilantro, which it turns out is a very good idea Thank You Very Much. Stir until combined.

Spoon cornbread mix evenly over top of bean mixture. Or just dump it in the center and then spread it out with a spatula, desperately trying to stretch it so it reaches the corners.

Bake, uncovered, at 400 for 25 minutes or until golden brown. Serve with salsa (who else loves TJ's peach salsa? YUM.) and sour cream. Congratulate Elisabeth on being the first known person to get me to ingest vegetable juice in any permutation. And probably do it again when I have the leftovers for lunch.

*Onion vapor containment method: Mike Milch + squeakykitty, i.e., weird cutting + lemons = survival

Deep Dark Chocolate Cake

2010-01-04T15:45:00.000-08:00

For New Year's this year, we had our friends Leslie & Jonathan over. For the past few months we've been doing these things Leslie dubbed 'Recession Dinners' with them and a couple of other friends in which we attempt to be social despite having no money by having each other over for food and excessive drinking. Whether or not said food is supposed to be budget conscious I don't really know. It can't hurt. Mostly, it's just more about it being cheaper to party @ home than to party elsewhere--with the added benefit of us living around the corner from Leslie & JB, which facilitates the ease of stumbling home.

Leslie and I cooked up the idea of a Recession Dinner for NYE, and immediately decided this was wonderful. What's more, my dad has a client who gives him a gift certificate to Legal Seafoods (lobster dinner for those of you non-New Englanders) each year, and my dad has decided it is fun to give it to me. So for the past couple of years we have had the chance to have friends over so I can laugh at them while they have no idea how to eat their lobster.

Obviously this would be perfect for New Year's Eve. We would front the food (you can't get more recession-friendly than free thanks to a gift certificate) and Leslie and JB would bring the drinks. Unfortunately, I realized there was no dessert included in the lobster dinner, so I dug around. There are only a couple of Recipe Book desserts left, and one involves a lot of specialty store shopping. Which I tried, but was quickly thwarted on, what with places being closed and all that for the holiday.

Luckily, I found Cassie and Judd's recipe for Deep Dark Chocolate Cake hiding away in the cookies section, nearly lost to all time. And what with it being chocolate cake, I was pretty sure I had all the ingredients in the house. Well, except for milk. We were almost out of regular milk, although that carton of Lactaid from Josh's parents' visit was still here. Can you cook with Lactaid? And cocoa powder. Wow, how did that happen? I had used an entire tin of cocoa powder in the past couple of months? I never even owned that stuff before.

Well, I had most of it anyway, so I scraped together what I had and asked Josh to make a grocery run for the items I'd be stretched especially thin on. I threw the cake together (old hat, I tell you) and had it cooling by the time Leslie and Jonathan came over for the festivities. After dinner, the boys retired to the basement to while away the final hour of 2009 playing Beatles Rock Band, while Leslie and I cleaned up the kitchen and frosted the cake, which we then ate with our champagne after midnight.

At this point, several things must be said:

1. I did not screw up this cake. This may be a world record. I didn't mix it badly. I didn't overbake it. I didn't set it on fire or drown it. I didn't break it coming out the molds. I didn't frost it before it was cooled. The frosting even looked good. A New Year's miracle.

2. This cake was good. DAMN good. This is what Josh looks like when you give him this cake:

Okay, maybe having lots of champagne and
an Olie dog-pillow helps, but still.

It is so moist, moist with the moistness for which I have been searching in all the other from-scratch baking I have done. Moist with a moistness that makes me say moist so often it provokes dirty commentary.

Seriously, I don't even much like chocolate cake, but this shit was good. I have since force-fed what was left of it to anyone who has so much as looked at my house, so that Josh and I didn't die in a giant gluttonous pile of chocolate cake. He still managed to eat two slices of it for dinner last night, though. Delicious.

3. I am good at Rock Band drums. I just thought you should know.

Happy New Year!

Cassie & Judd's Uber-Moist, Super Delicious, Deep, Dark Chocolate Cake

2 cups sugar (1 cup regular and 1 cup raw because you ran out of regular)
1 3/4 cups flour
3/4 cup cocoa powder (almost. maybe more like 2/3s. it's getting scant around here.)
1 1/2 tsp baking powder
1 1/2 tsp baking soda
1 tsp salt (kosher!)
2 eggs
1 cup milk (topped off with Lactaid because you ran out of regular. you CAN cook with Lactaid.)
1/2 cup vegetable oil (canola)
2 tsp vanilla
1 cup boiling water**

Oven to 350 degrees. Flour two 9" pans or one 13x9". Do a dance of joy because you now have two pans that are the same size/shape so you can do option A. Not only that, but they're springform, so they will be deeeeelightful come pan emptying time.

Stir together dry ingredients in a bowl, shaking out every last drop of the cocoa powder, which you have miraculously have run through in the past couple of months. Insane.

Add eggs (and healthy dose of shell, natch) through vanilla and beat on medium with an electric mixer for two minutes. Stir in boiling water. Note to self, measuring the boiling water in the metal measuring cup while it is seated in your palm is probably not the best idea you have ever had. Ouch.

Cassie says: Batter will be thin.

I say: You're not kidding, lady. This looks like chocolate juice.

Bake 30-35 (for round) or 35-40 minutes (for rectangle) or until done, which it is after 30 in case you were wondering. Cool 10 minutes before removing from pan. Yay springform easy to remove cake-ness! Cool completely before frosting. I think several hours and drinks later counts as cool completely, don't you?

Frosting: Wait until Josh returns from the grocery with the replacement items, then realize you put the mixing bowl and beater attachment into the now-running dish washer. Cede frosting-making responsibilities to Josh when he claims he can beat it himself without the electric mixer. Be my guest.

Give Josh 6 tbsp of butter in bowl to beat. Melt it in the microwave a little for him because you aren't totally evil. Add 2 2/3 cups powdered sugar (that's a LOT of powdered sugar!) and 1/2 cup cocoa powder (new tin, obviously) alternately with 4-6 tbsp of milk. Or forget the alternately part and just dump in all the milk after you dump in all the powder. Have Josh dance around proudly after he beats it to spreading consistency and stir in vanilla. Wonder, Um, How much vanilla? Have Josh say, "A dash," and comply.

Eat delicious seafood dinner with lots of wine. Enlist Leslie's help to spread all the frosting. Then do the fancy finishing touches with the white piping and confetti sprinkles, thus stealing all the glory, while pointing out in your blog that all that went right with the frosting is actually attributable to Josh and Leslie.

Happy New Year!

**Is this what makes it moist?! Oh so moist!!

Jenni's Pineapple Carrot Cake

2009-12-29T16:17:00.000-08:00

Josh is a fan of carrot cake. But not just any carrot cake. I mean, any carrot cake is fine and all that, but his all time favorite carrot cake in the world is the carrot cake that his friend Jenni Shimizu (nee Jenni Borden, she of the Summer Chick en & Eggplant Tomato Soup) made back during their good ol' days at Macalester College. Seriously, Josh loves her carrot cake. It has taken on legendary status in our house. Or at least in his mind, and the ears of anyone whom he can get to listen to his tales of the carrot cake -- oh, the carrot cake! Has he told you about the carrot cake?...

As someone who doesn't much like carrot cake in general (my idea of a good dessert is pretty limited to cheesecake and key lime pie, beyond that, I don't much care--shocker!), the nuances of what makes her cake the most special cake in the world is lost on me. But as a good wife - and really, just an all around amazing person - I was smart enough to save the carrot cake recipe, which Jenni blissfully included in our recipe book, for Josh's birthday.

Josh's birthday falls on Christmas Day, which means we have to do everything we can do make it special. Luckily, Josh isn't fussy about it, which means we don't have to do much. But I still want to try.

Every year it goes like this: Christmas morning is Christmas--gift opening, chocolates, breakfast/lunch--what I as a Jew can only surmise is the usual routine houses the country/world 'round. Then there is often a mid-day nap after all the morning opening activity. The afternoon then becomes Josh's birthday, so there is Josh present opening and Josh birthday cake (which either his mother or I, or sometimes both, bake during the morning) followed by dinner.

When we're in Iowa, this dinner often includes one of the Turkish Iowa State students (Josh's dad was in the Peace Corps in Turkey in the '60s, and somehow as a result is kind of a default host-family-person-type for some of the Turkish students in Ames). They may or may not stop by at any point in time, which leads to a lot of speculation and general Turk-related excitement. Then we rope said Turks (their names are Tolga and Halim) into evening board games, which they gamely play with us.

This is what everyone's Christmas night is like, right? Turk graduate students come over and play Cranium with you? (For all I know, it is. Everything after going to Weylu's and seeing Sherlock Holmes on Christmas is Greek to me. Or Turkish. Hilarious!)

Anyhow, this year, as I said in my previous post, we did Christmas down in San Diego with Josh's sister's family. We arrived at Wyn & Sean's house in the morning to begin the Christmas festivities. As my niece and nephew are now 3 1/2 years old, they were definitely able to appreciate things. They'd open a gift (or ask for help), either be totally bored by a toy or play with it for a while, and then at some point come back and ask if there were more things to open. In short, they got into the spirit, which was very cute - and not just because they both clearly liked what Josh and I got them (What can I say? We're amaaazing).

By the time we made it through lunch ('Can I have more bacon?' 'Why are we eating outside?' 'I want to sit next to Mommy!' 'I want to take my clothes off NOW!!' 'Can I have MORE bacon?'), I will admit I was looking forward to the customary Xmas nap. Unfortunately, it was cake time. And we were out of carrots. Whoops.

Luckily the grocery across the way was open, so Josh and I got the carrots (and, it must be added here, ingredients for Josh to make his terrific mojitos) and I pulled myself together to make the cake.

Quite a challenge trying to bake in someone else's kitchen, where you don't know what they have let alone where they keep it, but I prevailed. Luckily Josh's mom was there to help me find said things.

When frosting time rolled around, my niece Bryn was pretty excited to help me measure it out and stir it. As crazy as Josh is about the carrot cake, he is ten times that around the frosting. Apparently Jesus came down from heaven to give him that frosting or something, so Josh marched around the kitchen skeptically making sure Bryn and I were doing things right. I can't imagine this is good for a 3-year-old's psyche, but I told her that Uncle Josh was just really, really excited about the frosting. And that he was sure that he would do a good job, but wasn't so sure about me. Not certain that she bought it, but I do think she had fun both helping mix the frosting and then spreading it onto the cake. Truth be told, she was pretty good at it.

Side note: Somehow, the twins call Josh 'Uncle Josh', and me 'Heather.' How is this fair?

I had to do some serious bargaining to get my assistant to pose with me
for this picture. Evidently Bryn had a rigorous schedule with her
play-dough and her hamster we had to work around.

Josh's glee at eating the cake could only be matched by the twins' glee at getting to help him blow out the candles, which was pretty cute. Almost as cute as Jack's constant, 'NOW DO WE BLOW?' ('No, Jack, we sing first,').

Jack, demonstrating the proper cake-eating headgear

The cake itself was well-received by all, including--most importantly--Josh, who pronounced it up to Jenni's lofty standards. Thank God. As for myself, I didn't pay as much attention to the cake as I would have liked because I was busy cutting up cake for toddlers and taking pictures of the birthday boy and generally be fantastic, as one does.

So can I say it was so moist I would die and recount to you its every texture? No. I can tell you that it doesn't taste too carrot-y, nor does it taste very pineapple-y at all. I can tell you that I guess it's pretty subtle, and that Jenni's cream cheese frosting really is nice (the secret is to whip the shit out of it, FYI), and that I am sure I am going to have to make this for Josh on every special occasion until I die. Josh would tell you that you have to try it. Right. Now.

Not only did I not screw this up, I managed to not screw it up while
being peppered with questions by a 3-year-old assistant. Score.

Jenni's All-Time Josh's Favorite Pineapple-Carrot Cake

A
2 cups raw carrots, grated
1 3/4 cup sugar
1 cup oil (canola)
3 eggs
1 small can crushed pineapple w/ juice (or what you estimate to be the amount equal to a small can of crushed pineapple w/ juice from this large can of crushed pineapple w/ juice)
1 tbsp vanilla
3 cups flour

B
2 tsp baking powder
1/4 tsp salt
1 tsp baking soda
1 tbsp cinnamon

Give carrots to Josh and Stu to grate in the living room over sports on TV. Find most ingredients easily, but search around in quiet desperation for the final few, ultimately breaking down and enlisting help. Ah, cooking in someone else's kitchen.

Blend A together, mix in B. Pour in bundt pan* or two layer cake pans.* Bake @ 350 degrees, 'til toothpick comes out clean. For layer cake pans, approx 35 minutes.

Jenni says: I've never made it in a bundt pan, but recipe says 1 1/2 hours.

Heather says: I made it in a bundt pan. It took about 1 hour. Hooray for checking early.

Icing

1 3/4 cups confectioner's (powdered) sugar
1 1/2 3 oz or 4 oz bars of cream cheese, softened (i.e. ~ 6 ozs cream cheese)
1/4 margarine
1 tsp vanilla

Request help from your 3-year-old assistant, who informs you that she will help you put the things into the bowl once you've measured them. Which is good, as that was your plan. Notice that 3-year-old assistant prefers to do her cooking topless. Be glad this is not the rule of the kitchen for everyone.

Answer lots of questions, such as 'Why does the cream cheese have to be soft?' and 'Why is Uncle Josh nervous about the frosting?', while hoping you don't screw up the measurements. Blend well, first with you and Bryn stirring with wooden spoons ('Wooden spoons are silly,') and then turning the blender to high and blending the living shit out of it. 'Blend until it is very light and airy and whipped!' pronounces the supervising, nervously pacing Josh.

Wait until the cake is thoroughly cooled, as you learned while making Rachel's Chocolate Cake, then enlist your 3-year-old assistant's rather good help, it must be said, in frosting said cake. Serve to Josh for his birthday treat. Watch him be very happy.

* Greased and floured - ultimately so well by Ginny that the cake veritably slides out when the time comes. YES.

Spicy Tuna Pasta

2009-12-24T20:50:00.000-08:00

It's a Christmas miracle! I have snuck away upstairs to my bedroom in our rental house where the reception is better on the stolen internet in order to do this little Christmas eve blog. As a Jewess, I suppose I am entitled.

Usually we are in Iowa for Christmas, which suits me just fine--a couple of days of snow and horrible sub-freezing temperatures to give me just a fun taste of winter, but not enough to make me thoroughly miserable. But this year we decided to do it Southern California style, and the whole clan has invaded San Diego where Josh's sister, brother-in-law, and niece and nephew live--which also suits me just fine. After all my years of moving all over the place, there is something very comforting about living somewhere where you have family just a two-hour drive away.

Additionally, the drive to/from my sister-in-law's house is enhanced by the fact that my old roommate, Matt, and his wife Elisabeth live about half way between San Diego and LA, which means I always have a nice excuse to see them when we come down. Given how much we all like each other, one would imagine we would see each other more often given that we live so close. One would be wrong. About 50% of the time (at least) that Matt and Elisabeth and Josh and I make plans, invariably one of us gets sick and we have to cancel. Someone always gets hungover or a cold or something (If you guessed I was supposed to see Matt & Elisabeth two weeks ago when I got food poisoning, you would be right. Clearly I was tempting fate by making the plans in the first place).

Matt is an interesting character. We first met in college when he began dating one of my roommates sophomore year, but I actually remember having him pointed out to me well before that in an anthropology class when I was a freshman. At a school with over 25,000 undergrads, that's a big deal. But then again, a redheaded white guy with dreadlocks does tend to stand out.

Over the years, Matt and I stayed friends. Senior year he joined six of us girls in a house and lived in our basement, ultimately landing me with the honor of having the entire men's lacrosse team mulling around the house naked before we all left to run The (sadly now defunct) Naked Mile. Ah, college.

After college, we lived in Boston at the same time. Then Chicago at the same time. And now we live in Southern California at the same time. For someone who was first described to me as, 'That guy's in my Italian class,' I sure have known Matt a long time.

In recent years, the most fun thing about Matt I think is how much he and Josh like each other. I don't know why it surprised me so much, but these two were just peas and carrots right away. It turns out that Josh and Matt have a ton in common and, if left to their own devices, will happily spend an entire afternoon discussing the high points of Planet Earth. The cuteness of it just kills me.

Last June Josh and I made the pilgrimage back to Chicago for Matt and Elisabeth's wedding, but three years ago he and Elisabeth both contributed a recipe to my book. I know this because the two recipes attributed to them have different handwriting, and being the smart girl that I am have deduced that one is from him and one is from her.

The Matt-given recipe is his Spicy Tuna Pasta, which, I will tell you right now, does not sound good. I mean, basically it's spaghetti with tuna-laden tomato sauce. Doesn't exactly make the heart quicken with anticipation.

Looking at the recipe, it appears to be a bachelor-type staple. Slightly dressed up pasta, and almost without exception the ingredients don't have quantities specified. Just the sort of straightforward thing a guy would pull together to impress a date. But the Recipe Book wants what the Recipe Book wants, so I gave it a whirl.

As it turns out, I was wrong on two accounts: 1. This is not just some rag-tag bachelor throw-together; Matt actually got the recipe from an Italian friend (like Italy Italian, not Jersey Shore Italian). 2. It's good.

Yup. You heard me. It was good. Not, like, 'I had to take my pants off and roll around in it' good, but good enough that I'm looking forward to the leftovers and that Josh ate so much of it he gave himself a stomach ache. I think this is one of those cases of a few simple ingredients done well, plus the surprising fact that tuna--stinky canned tuna!!--actually tastes good in tomato sauce. You'd think the two tastes would clash horribly, but instead the fishy parts of the tuna somehow get neutralized so it's just like a nice, dare I say almost subtle meat in the sauce. And the red pepper gives it a nice fra diablo-type kick--and smell. Simple, yet fancy! Color me impressed.

Who knew?

Matt's Shockingly Decent Spicy Tuna Pasta

Pasta
tomato puree (14.5 oz)
olive oil
garlic
tuna (6 oz)
salt/pepper/basil/oregano
crushed red pepper

Heat oil in saucepan or skillet (enough to cover surface of pan), press garlic into oil (garlic press gadget!) and saute. Add puree, which it turns out you were unable to find in the 14.5 oz size at the ghetto grocery, and after much searching, gave up and got it in double that size. Then decide you can just estimate around half the tin of tomato puree in lieu of measuring it out on the scale because, hell, the rest of this recipe is non-specific proportions, so why should this part be so different? Mix.

Meanwhile, prepare pasta, which you decide will be spaghetti although you imagine could be anything. That's why it says 'pasta' and not, say, 'rigatoni'. Although perhaps using lasagna noodles would be weird.

Salt, pepper, red pepper sauce to taste, which is amusing because you never actually taste sauce that you are cooking what with the fear of burning your mouth and all. So you just dump in a random bit of these things with no real idea what is good or not. Also deduce you should put in the basil and oregano at this point, even though it doesn't say so, because it doesn't say so anywhere, so now must be the time.

When pasta is done, drain it. Add tuna (drained) to sauce and serve over pasta. Be shocked at how good canned tuna is in pasta sauce. Matt, I never should have doubted you. Score.

Merry Xmas

2009-12-24T08:26:00.000-08:00

In San Diego for the holiday. Internet service here is spotty. Will try to get a post up soon, but in the meantime...

Happy Holidays from the Fab Four Huntingtons

Greek Bean Soup

2009-12-21T10:54:00.000-08:00

That food poisoning laid me low for longer than I'd like to admit. I may have pulled it together enough to write about Alexis's chili, but doing a lot of eating was another thing. In light of the fact that I spent the week breaking out into a sweat/pain after about one meagerly-sized meal/day, I wasn't much for cooking experiments.

However, time has finally done its good work and I'm finally feeling pretty reliably better. And as Josh's parents were in town visiting us for the weekend, it was about time I bust out the Greek Bean Soup.

Greek Bean Soup was the second recipe from Andy & Elizabeth, i.e., my best friend from college and his wife. At the time I tried their first recipe (aka Disgustingly Rich Brownies), she was pregnant with their first child, who has since arrived - William.

Someone must have told William he was going to get some soup

What with their living in Atlanta and my living in Los Angeles, it will undoubtedly be more time than I would like before I get to meet their little boy. But in the meantime, I can at least test my hand at his mommy's soup, which I have on good authority (Andy) that she still makes often.

Elizabeth's Greek Bean Soup is pretty simple, but requires some advance set up. That is to say, you get dry beans and have to soak them overnight before cooking time, and then cooking time is a couple of hours. I don't think I even knew that dry beans existed. I mean, don't they grow in a can? But it turns out they do exist, and I for one was actually excited to both find said 'dry beans' (easily findable in the ghetto grocery - much to my mother-in-law's surprise) and re-hydrate them. Perhaps my joy at this was improved by the fact that I'd been spending the better part of the week re-hydrating myself. Poetic symmetry and all that.

ANYHOOT, Thursday rolled around and my in-laws - driving cross country from Iowa to their winter nest in San Diego where Josh's sister and their grandkids live - were due in for a weekend visit. I dragged my still-not-100%-self into the kitchen and figured out how to soak the beans (Put beans in pot. Dump water in pot. Leave.).

By dinner time, Josh had gotten off work early, the house was clean, and Ginny and Stu were here and happy to be off the road. I started the soup process with Ginny's help, at which point I remembered that Ginny can't eat garlic or onions (unless she wanted to join me on the feeling like crap front). And that the soup called for garlic and onions. The peril of doing things when you're unwell - your brain stops working along with the rest of you.

Luckily, as I've said before, Ginny is a nutritionist, so she knows what can substitute for what. We went for half a giant onion (in lieu of the two the recipe called for) and some garlic salt (in lieu of the garlic cloves), called it good enough, and set it to boil for a couple of hours.

In the end, the soup was good, if a little bland for my taste, but I'm sure the greatly reduced onion/garlic content was partly responsible for that. As Andy says, the soup is good if you put a lot of feta in it, and I'm all for lots of feta. The Huntingtons, of course, liked it and they all ate it heartily - not only for dinner on Friday night, but again for leftovers on Saturday. Viva Greek Bean Soup and Viva Baby William!

Any excuse for feta is a good one if you ask me

William's Greek Bean Soup
1 lb dry beans (especially lima beans or navy beans)
2 onions - chopped* (or 1/2 of one because we dont' want Ginny to die)
2 stalks celery
3 carrots
2 cups canned tomatoes (or fresh, remove skins)
1/2 cup olive oil
3 quarts water
salt
1 tbsp of each: oregano, basil, parsley
4-5 bay leaves and several cloves of garlic (or some garlic salt, for the garlic-sensitive)

Go to store and wonder things like: Who uses dry beans? Why use dry beans instead of wet beans? Should the canned tomatoes be whole? Or diced? Where are my pants?

Soak beans overnight, or all day, since the bag says they should soak for a few hours, and a day will do that. I mean, darkness isn't an ingredient, right? Then chop veggies with the help of Ginny and boil everything gently for about 2+ hours, being the amazing wife who stays home to watch said pot and make sure the house doesn't catch fire while everyone else goes to catch the sunset at the Griffith Park Observatory. When served, add pieces of feta cheese. Be amazed that the small amount of onion and garlic salt does not appear to torment Ginny.

Elizabeth note: Very delicious and healthy! Enjoy!
Heather note: What? I ate something healthy?

*Chopping method: Dole out this task to Ginny. Score!

Black Bean & Chicken Chili

2009-12-14T10:45:00.000-08:00

After a delightful weekend spent battling the rigors of food poisoning, I am finally ready to do the much belated post about last week's Black Bean & Chicken Chili.

Don't worry, the food poisoning has nothing to do with said chili, lest any of contributor (or my obsessive salmonella/e.coli washing skills) be maligned. It is likely the result of a bad burrito (from the taco truck parked on Alvarado in front of the ghetto grocery, to be exact). I went to bed Thursday night feeling a little burn-y and woke up on Friday morning feeling, well, not good.

Anyhow, Friday was bad, but Josh was great - going out in the rain to get me Gatorade, bringing me tea and toast in bed, making me soup, taking away said soup when it made me nauseous, scratching my head, the works. So much for Xmas shopping, so much for chores. Every time I thought I was better I would run around the house for 10 minutes and then rethink my rash actions. Poor icky me. Poor wonderful Josh.

In any event, I have spent the better part of the weekend attempting to do things like re-hydrate, and today I am hoping to finally get over the hump and put the whole delightful episode behind me (get it? haha). To which end: Black Bean & Chicken Chili.

The Black Bean & Chicken Chili was another recipe from Alexis, and possibly the fifth(?) and I think final chili recipe in the book. Never did I dream that not only would there be so many different ways to make chili, but I would be the possessor of all of them.

I decided to make the chili on Weds. night. The weather last week was unseasonably cold here for LA - 40s and 50s and rainy, which, in a climate where it only rains a few days a year, is a totally reasonable excuse not to leave the house. I know this makes you - in whatever normal part of the world where it is 10 degrees out and your skin fell off last month from the dryness - want to kill me. But let me just say that in LA our houses - mine in particular - are not exactly built for cold weather. And by that I mean my downstairs - where I spend the bulk of my time - has neither heat nor air conditioning. So I sit, wrapped in a down duvet, wearing an extra sweater and socks, trying to get close enough to the space heaters to get warmth without setting the sofa on fire, with the air still so cold my nose is dripping.

Well, not now. Now it is back in the 60s like normal LA winter, but last week.

Anyhow, obviously, it was finally perfect time for the chili - unlike the heavy chili nights of the 100 degree summer.

Just as I was starting to get stuff ready for dinner, a package arrived from the post office. In it were two hilarious sweatshirts sent by friends from Gainesville. Ron & Mary are very close friends of my aunt/uncle/cousins (Mary was my cousin's speech therapist), and they are awesome. At my cousin's wedding last summer, we were having some conversation with them and they told us they have these sweatshirts they wear when they are sailing. One says, 'Don't yell at me' and the other one says, 'I'm not yelling.' And they thought these shirts would be perfect for us (I can only imagine Josh and I were either [adorably] griping at each other in a similar fashion or [hysterically] relaying that we have been known to do so.)

Anyhow, I forgot all about this conversation until on Weds. when the sweatshirts arrived in the mail. Shortly thereafter, another friend, Dave, was coming over to get the rundown on Big and his friend, Olie, for some Xmas house-sitting he is going to do for us. Dave is a relatively new friend, one who seems to catch me on days when I've been most isolated - and therefore am most hyperactive when he shows up. I am pretty sure I have heard him say three whole sentences because I tend to explode and whiz around the room in a clatter of talking and cackling when I speak to him.

Naturally, Josh and I put on the sweatshirts to herald his arrival. Then we all walked around the corner to Leslie & Jonathan's house (owners of Olie) so Dave could get the full dog mania rundown, complete with the requisite bottle of wine consumed at Leslie & JB's. They especially enjoyed the shirts, Leslie and Jonathan sprinkling the conversation with 'Don't Yell At Me,' 'I'm Not Yelling,' and a seagull inspired, 'Ca-Caw! Ca-Caw!' for the next hour. Olie did his part by looking at Dave with his big boxer eyes like, 'Nice legs. Wanna hump?' I think we have Dave thoroughly terrified by now. Or at least somewhat overwhelmed.

Then, as usual, we stumbled home drunk and I started cooking the chili while lying to Dave that it would be done in 10 minutes so he would stay for it. This worked, and the chili, being chili, was very easy to make, half a tank of wine in me and all. I did not burn anything or spill anything, or even - can you believe - mis-measure anything.

The chili itself was quite decent. Dave asked me what spices went into it, at which point I realized the only one in this one is chili powder, which I can now confidently say is unusual. Most chilis call for cumin or pepper or a ton of other things as well. I think I might like a little more variety in the spice myself, but the boys loved it and ate theirs up with gusto. Dave even had seconds. A full bowl of seconds. This could just be because he is ridiculously polite, but I think he also just liked the chili.

Which is good, because I froze the leftovers to leave for him to eat over Xmas.

Admit it. This sweatshirt is awesome.

Alexis's Drunk-Proof Black Bean & Chicken Chili

2 tsp olive oil
1/2 cup cilantro, chopped
1 lg onion, chopped*
1 lb chicken breast, cut in 1/2" pieces (carefully, you're a little sauced)
1/4 cup chili power - or to taste (boy that's a lot)
3 cloves garlic, minced (yes! I can use my mincer!)
2 15 oz cans black beans, rinsed & drained (well, sort of drained, but rinsed? maybe not)
2 15 oz cans diced tomatoes
1 15 oz can hot chili beans
1 8 oz can tomato sauce
1 1/2 cup frozen corn
2 green peppers, chopped

Heat oil, add onion, and cook until tender - 4 minutes. Proceed to chop chicken and other ingredients, while Josh periodically hovers around the cooking onion, reminds you to get out a lid because you have oil on the stove, etc. Perhaps setting fire to the kitchen isn't exactly something Josh is going to forget quickly.

Add chicken, chili powder and garlic. Cook until chicken is slightly browned - 2 minutes. Add all beans, tomatoes and sauce. Ignore instructions to rinse the black beans because you have never read instructions like that before and it's more fun just to dump everything sloppily in. Hiccup. Debate if you should drain the diced tomatoes. What was that funny story Josh just told? Hiccup.

Cover and cook 20 minutes. Tell Dave it will be done in 10.

Add corn, cilantro, and bell pepper. Cook approximately 7 minutes until heated through and veggies are tender/crisp.

Serve with corn chips, rice or pasta. Well, you have the corn chips. Add cheddar cheese or sour cream to top. Naturally!

*Onion chopping method: Mike's + Squeakykitty's, i.e., weird chopping + lemon = comfort.

Cheese Puffs

2009-12-08T10:11:00.000-08:00

Last weekend, I bust out my friend Alexis's Cheese Puff recipe for some new friends, Patrick, Nicole, and Andrew, when they came over for dinner. Alexis and her husband Craig are friends from the dog park in Chicago. How many years ago was that now? Five? Six? When Big was just a puppy and Josh and I were first living together in our (pretty fantastic) apartment in Bucktown. I was still freelancing/working from home (sounds familiar), and as soon as Big was old enough (i.e., had the proper shots), I would take him every morning to the dog park a few blocks away. Rain or shine, I would sludge those few blocks lead by the happy dog butt pulling ahead of me and we would play fetch until he was too hot, I was too cold, the snow made his paws bleed, or it was just plain old time to go.

In exchange for this hour or so of park time, Big would put his puppy/border collie behaviors aside and actually sleep for the rest of the day so that I could work. And I got to interact with humans, which helped immensely with fighting the isolation of working at home, especially for an extrovert like me. Still, after dragging us out on 5 degree days in 17 layers of clothes (for me and Big, who found dog coats humiliating even if I told him all his friends were wearing them) so he could slide around on the ice in a park deserted by all other sane people, I would sometimes wish we could strike another deal.

Big had two best friends at this park - a Vizsla named Milo and a Rhodesian Ridgeback named Riley. And Riley's mom was Alexis. When I first met Alexis, she was pregnant with her first (of now three) kids, but you'd never know it. She'd stand out there in her long coat, grateful, like the rest of us I assume, for the interaction and for the fact that the puppy got to burn off some energy. She had the baby that winter (February, I believe?), and after a week or so away from the park was back in action, with grandma and grandpa cooing over a bundled up baby Dylan in his stroller while Riley got her ya-yas out. Dylan in his stroller soon became the newest park fixture, and as a result (I think?) could sleep through anything--or at least barking running dogs wrestling and playing fetch.

In addition to being a fun friend, Alexis always seemed to me to be a great mother. Very unflappable, very unfazed, very confident. I think this is because (if I recall correctly) she had worked at daycare and therefore had gotten the nervous will-I-accidentally-kill-this-child fears out of her system years ago. And if I ever do have kids, I think Alexis is at the top of the list of people I may call for advice.

Despite my reverence for Alexis's mothering skills, I will admit I had my misgivings about the Cheese Puffs--albeit misgivings entirely unrelated to her. The issue is merely that after the Aunt Ellen-esque Cheesy Poofs, I have now grown a thick, hard-wired skepticism of any and all other cheese puffs. I mean, honestly, how can they compete? It simply isn't fair.

However, they had to be made. And Alexis is quite the perfect homemaker type, so it would stand to reason that even if they weren't the ambrosia that is Cheesy Poofs, they would be good. And on Saturday, we were having our new BFFs over, so it was a good time to give them a shot.

As mentioned, the new BFFs were Patrick, Andrew, and Nicole. I met Patrick and Andrew at the Austin Film Festival and it was love at first beer. Megan knew Andrew from the improv scene, so he was pre-vetted, and he and Patrick are writing partners. And they live in LA. How can a girl get so lucky? They were easily the finds of the weekend, and I came home yapping to Josh about how excited I was about my (our) new friends.

Since then it's been, 'Andrew said this' and 'Patrick said that' (oh, how I love wiling the days away with instant messenger). And last Saturday it was finally time to complete the circle. I got to meet Patrick's wife Nicole and Josh got to meet everyone. Of course it went swimmingly. Big humped his bed (oh dear God) and fetched, and Nicole and I vociferously discussed the ins and outs of Tiger Beat magazine and agreed that New Jersey and Boston are essentially the same thing, while the guys basically held on for dear life. Actually, Josh gave it a college try ('After many years, I have learned to just leap in and start yelling,' quoth my polite Iowa husband, who, during a point over Thanksgiving when my father, mother, and I were all talking at once just started exclaiming, 'Talking! Talking!' Which, you will be amazed to hear, actually shut us all up).

The delight of the evening was surely aided by Alexis's Cheese Puffs, even though I presented them dubiously at best (see Cheesy Poofs bias above), with a, 'I don't have high hopes for these.' Despite said dubiosity, they were well-received by all. Andrew was talking about them the next day and Josh just ate them all weekend, despite the fact that they mostly got neglected and left out on the counter (no tupperware or freshness attempts employed).

The recipe calls for 1/2 lb of butter, which really doesn't exactly mingle with the cheese during the melting process. Not sure if I did something wrong or not, but what basically happened is the bread soaked up an unbelievable amount of butter and then the cheese mixture coated the outside. How two things in the same pan could stay so separate is beyond me. But as a result, even the day-old Cheese Puffs were oozing butter when you ate them. Which is nice, albeit a little overwhelming IMO.

I think it best to not even think of them as in the same realm as the Cheesy Poofs. They are entirely different creatures. These are blocks of bread soaked in butter and cheese. Those are a mixture of different dairy products to create a puffy pastry. And both are good in their own way. There. Isn't that better?

I said 'Puffs,' not 'Poofs'

Alexis's New-Friend-Winning Cheese Puffs

6 oz cream cheese
1/2 lb butter
1/2 lb extra sharp cheddar
1 tsp dry mustard
4 egg whites, beaten stiff
1 lb unsliced white bread (sliced texas toast works really well, too)

Day before Patrick, Nicole, and Andrew come over, read the recipe and wonder where I will find unsliced white bread, neglecting to realize the answer is 'in the bakery section of your super market.' Instead, buy box of white bread mix for Josh to make in his favorite trusty bread maker. Ah, thank God again for Josh. And the bread maker.

Day of Patrick, Nicole, and Andrew coming over, melt cheese, butter, and mustard in pan. Notice that the butter isn't exactly mixing with the cheese, but accept that after ample stirring this must be how it is supposed to be.

Gently fold egg whites into the mixture, which you discover means you have to use the whisk and not the spatula like you were doing because that just wasn't working. Notice thanks to the white egg whites and the bright orange cheddar that the mixture has now taken on this pink-y/salmon-y day-glo color. Disturbing.

Remove crust and cut bread into 1" cubes. Thank you Josh and the bread maker. Does that sound like a children's book? Uncle Josh and the Bread Maker.

Dip in cheese mixture, which is kind of gross and kind of hot (temperature hot, not sexy hot). Put on wax paper cookie sheet and freeze. Wonder if the freezing process is essential to the Cheese Puff experience. Debate just putting them into the oven, but decide they should be frozen just in case. Be thankful for Josh some more because thanks to him you have the spare pizza & beer freezer in the basement, which has room for these things - although you do have to perch the tray on top of a frozen turkey and hope there isn't an avalanche of frozen cheese puffs when you open later.

To serve: Remove from freezer (no avalanche! score!) and bake in 400 degree oven on lightly greased cookie sheet for 10-12 minutes. Win friends. Influence people.

Roast Tomatoes Stuffed with Shrimp

2009-12-04T12:35:00.000-08:00

On the flip side (literally) of my cousins Jason & Thuy's surprisingly great Stir Fried Ginger Chicken recipe was one for Roast Tomatoes Stuffed with Shrimp. Whereas the chicken one was billed as Jason's favorite, this tomato one is Thuy's.

Either way, after the delightful surprise that was the Ginger Chicken, I was psyched to see how the tomatoes would turn out. I am not a fan of tomatoes when they are raw, but heat them a little and the world looks new. Plus, as a good New Englander, I like me some shellfish. So cooked tomatoes + shellfish? Sounds great. Right?

Eh. Not so much. Making this wasn't too challenging. Lop top off tomato, scoop out innards, mix with shrimp and sauce, stuff back in, roast. Pretty much a no brainer. Not that I didn't screw it up. Obviously I did. I mean, it's me. For example, I may have inadvertently discarded the innards before realizing they were supposed to be mixed with the shrimp. And maybe, just maybe, even though I roasted at the time and temp specified, something horrible happened and either the oil or the seeping tomato innards or the mixture of both or whatever was on the bottom of the pan burned to a terrifying crisp. Like so:

This cannot be what was supposed to happen

On the plus side, despite the char-of-death that coated the pan (Note to self: Maybe don't just trust the timer to tell you when things are done. Maybe checking in the oven is good, too.), the tomatoes unbelievably survived. A Christmas miracle, for sure. Unfortunately, despite their unlikely survival, it appears I didn't much enjoy them anyhow.

It wasn't a burnt taste - seriously, the tomatoes were 99% unharmed. I think I didn't really like the sauce. I think this because I had some extra shrimp/tomato/sauce left over after stuffing the tomatoes, so I (and by I, I obviously mean Josh) cooked them up on top of the stove, and I didn't much like it. The cayenne and Dijon and pepper I think made it somehow too peppery. And despite the total lack of butter, it seemed to induce in me that kind of gross-stomach feeling I get after gorging on too much buttery movie popcorn. Not that I don't like movie popcorn, I just feel fake-buttery-nasty after.

All this said, the salt and pepper involved is 'to taste,' so obviously part of this is my problem. Also, it should be pointed out that not only did Josh think the Roast Tomatoes were 'good,' but he actively loved them. And by that I mean, not only did he eat his, but then he ate mine, too. Fast.

Also, is this healthy? I think it is. I mean, it's a tiny bit of oil, egg yolk, Dijon mustard, lemon juice, salt, pepper, tomatoes and shrimp. Despite the buttery feeling, it's actually quite good for you, I think. So what the hell do I know?

I still can't believe they survived that carnage

Thuy Le's Feels Sinful But I Guess Isn't Roast Tomatoes Stuffed With Shrimp

4 firm but ripe tomatoes (~ 6 oz ea)
3/4 lb fresh or frozen (thawed) shrimp, peeled and deveined
1 tsp minced rosemary (the only surviving herb from my garden!)
2 tbsp olive oil
1/8 tsp cayenne pepper
[1 egg yolk]
[2 tsp Dijon mustard]
[1 tbsp lemon juice (fresh squozen)]
[salt (Kosher!) and pepper to taste]
[1/4 cup grapeseed (no) or canola (yes) oil (neutral oil)]

Preheat oven to 450 F. Cut a 1/4" slice from the smooth end of each tomato (reserve the slices). Wonder if by 'smooth end' she means the bottom? A side? Why not use the top with the woody bit? Because if you use that as the bottom of the stuffed tomato that is going to be more stable? Also, there is no way these tomatoes are going to be big enough. The vine ripe tomatoes @ the grocery were simply not huge. Oh boy.

Decide she means the bottom of the tomatoes. Slice them off and put aside. use a spoon to scoop out the insides, leaving a wall of 1/4" thick. Determine that your jagged-edge grapefruit spoons (gadgets!) are perfect for this. Give the tomato innards to your waiting dog, aka the tomato fiend.

Sprinkle insides with salt and pepper. Discard any portions of tomato that is too hard/woody - which you decide means the woody bit on the bottom, therefore leaving a tiny hole in the tomato bottoms - chopping the pulp and seeds with shrimp.

Oh shit. Did she say with the shrimp? Look into dog's bowl and repress urge to snag the last ounce of tomato seeds that have yet to be slurped up by Big. Debate the finer merits of just mixing the shrimp with the sauce and stuffing the tomato that way, when you realize you have some small tomatoes in the fridge that you can use for this purpose.

Peel shrimp. Chop shrimp. Wonder if you are supposed to pre-cook the shrimp, but decide not to because they will cook during roasting. Chop a few of said tiny tomatoes and mix.

Toss this mixture with the rest of the ingredients (except for the 2 tbsp of olive oil, and do prestir/pre-mix the bracketed ingredients). Realize you did not devein the shrimp. Oh thank God, they appear to have at least come deveined.

Stuff each tomato with the shrimp mixture and replace the top slices. Spread half the olive oil in a shallow roasting pan, place the tomatoes on the pan, drizzle the remaining oil on top. Roast for 30-40 minutes, at which point you discover that the oil (or something) has burned to bajeesus and back on the bottom of the pan. Oh crap. Miraculously salvage tomatoes. Serve piping hot. You can say that again, Thuy.

Apple Pie

2009-12-01T11:57:00.000-08:00

In honor of Thanksgiving, I brought home the Recipe Book so as to contribute the Apple Pie to the feast. Thanksgiving is routinely held at my parents' house, which I am all for as my mother does a great job with Thanksgiving. As I have said before, cooking isn't exactly her favorite thing, but Thanksgiving is something she does absolutely right.

I actually came home a couple of days early and Megan came up from New York so we could do some script research. Megan was making conversation and asked my mother what she made for Thanksgiving dinner. 'Everything,' my mother said. 'Anything unusual?' Megan asked. 'Nope, just the traditional stuff,' my mother confidently replied.

Megan: Turkey?
Mom: Yes.
Megan: Green bean casserole?
Mom: No.
Megan: Sweet potatoes?
Mom: No.
Megan: Brussels sprouts?
Mom: No.
Megan: Okay.
Mom: And chopped liver and knishes.
Megan: Of course. But nothing weird.
Mom: No.

Pretty amusing. This was, mind you, while my mother was (graciously) serving us dinner at like 11 PM because we had both caught late flights/buses into town and Megan was discovering the mind-blowing amounts of food that will be put in front of you by a Jewish mother. But that's another story.

In any event, Thanksgiving came and I was ready to take on my mother's Apple Pie recipe in the Recipe Book. She no longer makes pies for Thanksgiving, really--but like all good Jewish mothers she knows where to buy the best ones. So this would be the first home-made one to grace the table in a while.

My mother was pretty excited about it. She went out and bought me all the supplies I could dream of, including my choice of pie pans and a new apron. Mind you, I'm pretty sure she already had the pie pans and ingredients in the house, but she was pretty psyched to buy me new versions of them.

When Thanksgiving morning rolled around, Josh and I headed downstairs for the pie making. This was going to be slightly scary--my mother was thick in the throes of the final Thanksgiving cooking countdown, and she doesn't much like anyone in her kitchen at the best of times, let alone during T-minus 3 hours stress. But we tucked in and went for it.

New apron, Recipe Book, hair looking like a banana head.
It must be pie time.

Josh put the Macy's parade on the kitchen TV and started cutting the apples while I mixed the rest of the ingredients, periodically confiscating an apple part from him to chop it up more quickly/messily. My mother got us a lovely apple slicer/corer, which was a great help. I have one at home and love it (obviously). However, we determined that the old fashioned apple peeler/corer might have been nice, too. The magic of Yankee ingenuity, as Josh says.

Macy's Parade on TV and apples cut by the best helper ever

Anyhow, once the apples were done I did the pastry, which was easy enough. For some reason making your own pastry always blows people's minds, which I don't quite understand because in this Recipe Book process I have made several pastries/doughs/pastry doughs and they have almost always come out fine. Which leads me to believe:

A. I have an innate talent at pastry.
B. Pastries/doughs aren't actually that hard to make.

The oddly busty pastry queen. Those slippers Sara brought me from
Iceland that I'm wearing must be good luck.

I'm going with option B. Anyhow, what more is there to say, really? I rolled out the pastry with my mom's new rolling pin (which I have to note rolls better than mine at home, so I let her give it to me to bring home. Good thing I was checking a bag), dumped the giant pile of apples into it, and then rolled out the top and slapped that on, too.

Okay, maybe I'm a little pleased with myself

The recipe says to cut some slashes or a pattern into the top of the pie, so obviously I put the best possible pattern into the pie. Personally, I'm a sucker for that woven basket pie top look, but A. this recipe doesn't tell me to do that and B. I find it quite daunting, especially for maybe my second ever proper baked pie and first ever apple pie. Nonetheless, I think we can all agree this one obviously has superior qualities:

Just in case you wonder which pie I made

When dessert time rolled around my entire family, God love them, was so excited for this pie. And when I say, 'my entire family,' I mean there were 13 of us there, many of whom were by anyone else's definition extended family. And also let me point out that my mother gets tons of pies. I think there were like 3 or 4 others to choose from, but they - despite looking fancy as all get out - were roundly shunned. There was one slice out of the pumpkin pie and that was it - and you can't blame Paul; if you need pumpkin you need pumpkin, and apple ain't gonna cut it.

Cousin Steven was the first and pronounced the pie 'good.' At which point his son, Justin, announced, 'Oh, because that's a discerning palette.' Justin was obviously just bitter because he evidently wanted me to make his grandmother's (my Aunt Ellen's) Cheese Dreams (that we now know weren't actually her Cheese Dreams, but are are a close enough approximation to have had me fooled), but as he never told me that, and just psychically thought it at me very hard, this did not happen. I told him I'd make him the Cheese Dreams the next time I saw him, and he ate the apple pie and also gave it the thumbs up--with the extra caveat that it rivaled his grandmother's pies, mostly because evidently sometimes hers had some core in them and mine did not (thank you Josh).

Anyhow, the family verdict was a hearty and unified thumbs up. And as a table-full of Jews, I expect someone would have told me if it needed something. Or maybe I'm not giving them enough credit, but in short everyone was really, really enthusiastic about it and I appreciated it a lot. They were all very sweet. Everyone was excited to not only try it, but also to tell me it was good and finish it. Josh got the one serving of seconds that survived dinner and polished it off for breakfast with the, 'I ate the rest of the pie. Hope you didn't want anymore, but it was good.'

As for me, I was pretty impressed with how delightfully apple-pie-y the innards were. It really was tasty. I would consider maybe dotting the top of the pie with some sugar or something to make the top part of the crust have some extra pop, but I'm not exactly sure how to do that. Do you just put on some sugar? Which kind? Do you have to shellac it with egg first? I have no idea.

H marks the spot

Mom's Jew-Approved Thanksgiving Apple Pie

7 medium cooking apples (Cortland), peeled, cored, and thinly sliced (but not too thin); ~ 8 cups
1/4 cup sugar
1/4 cup packed brown sugar
2 tbsp all-purpose flour
1 tsp ground cinnamon
1/2 tsp grated lemon peel*
1/4 tsp salt (Kosher! which mom was excited to buy for me because she never uses it!)
2 tsp lemon juice*
Flaky Pastry (see below)
1 tbsp butter, margarine or lard

Turn on TV to parade and ask Josh to be in charge of slicing the apples. Help periodically with some apple slicing on the premise that, 'I should have the experience.' Allow Josh to slip in one Fuji apple that we got at the Hollywood farmer's market, which Josh claims is the 'secret ingredient.'

In a large bowl with rubber spatula, lightly toss first eight ingredients, i.e. everything down to the pastry. Set aside.

In a medium bowl, stir 2 cups all-purpose flour and 1 tsp salt. With pastry blender, cut 3/4 cup shortening (i.e., butter [yes], margarine [no], or lard [no]) into flour to resemble coarse crumbs, all the while being pleased you are finally learning to use a pastry blender. You have a pastry blender, but are afraid of it. This is fun.

Sprinkle 5-6 tbsp cold water, a tbsp at a time, into mixture, mixing lightly after each addition until pastry is moist enough to hold together. It's moist enough. It's pretty gross and sticky, if you want to know the truth. Shape pastry into two balls, one slightly larger. Isn't that always the way?

On floured surface with floured rolling pin, roll larger pastry ball into a circle 1/8" thick and 2" larger than a 9" pie plate, or just, you know, roll it out so you'll have enough to to put it on the bottom of the pie plate because who the Hell knows what 1/8" thick looks like and all that crap. Think, 'I wonder how long it is going to take mom to freak out about the flour you have to use to roll this getting all over the place.'

Notice the instructions don't tell you to grease the pan, but after your graham cracker crust pie cutting issues, decide to go rogue and grease it anyhow. Who's it going to hurt?

Line plate with pastry; trim edge (with knife?), leaving 1" overhang, or something thereabouts. Spoon apple mixture into plate, which you realize makes an enormous mound of apples and this is going to be a huge heaping pie. Wonder what would have happened if you'd used a Cortland instead of that last Fuji. Dot with butter or margarine; set aside. Is this what that last tbsp of margarine on the ingredients list was for? Probably.

Preheat oven to 425 degrees, which involves figuring out which of your mother's ovens to use. She sure has a lot of ovens for someone who doesn't like cooking.

Roll remaining pastry. Cut a few slashes or a design in center of pastry. Obviously you know which awesome design goes here.

Place over filling; trim edge, leaving overhang. Fold overhang under, bring up over pie to form a high stand-up edge; flute. Realize you wish you had left more for this mysterious overhang, possibly not trimming it before. Determine that what this means is: squeeze edges together into a fancy little rim around the edge of the pie as best you can. Whatevs.

Bake pie at 425 degrees for 40-50 minutes until crust is golden and apples are tender. Think, 'I don't know how the Hell you find out if they are tender since they are covered in a pie crust, but since they are oozing out the holes and burning me through the oven mitts, I'll take that as a good sign.' Remove to wire rack. Serve warm or cool with ice cream. Makes 8 servings, or more, actually. I'd say we did more than 8 servings out of this thing.

*Mom got the pre-done store kind of lemon peel spice and bottled lemon juice. At home, I would likely juice and grate an actual lemon. Do you care? Probably not.

Happy Thanksgiving

2009-11-23T08:39:00.000-08:00

All right Recipe Book fans, I'm off for Thanksgiving. TIDWTE is on hiatus for the break (unless I manage to remote-Recipe Book cook for the holiday). See you post-T(of)urkey!

Stir-Fried Ginger Chicken

2009-11-20T11:43:00.000-08:00

I have one overweening memory of my cousin Jason. I was 10. It was Thanksgiving. And his sister, Joanna, and I were entertaining ourselves by sic-ing my non-killer miniature poodle on him, much to his dismay.

Despite my best efforts at torturing him, Jason has not only survived, but thrived. He is a math professor at USC (hello? smart much?), has a gorgeous/awesome wife, Thuy, and -- I will never get over this part -- a couple of tiny dogs. Triumph, indeed.

For the recipe book, Jason and Thuy sent along a couple of recipes, including one for Stir-Fried Ginger Chicken, that Thuy branded Jason's favorite. I was a little dubious about this recipe. Not that I thought it would be bad, per se, but I'm just not super into chicken, and stir frying it doesn't usually seem to change my feelings. So I figured it would just be 'fine.'

Before I set about to make dinner, I went over to my friend Leslie's house because we were meeting up with the dog-sitter who is going to watch Big and his best friend, Leslie's dog, Olie, over Thanksgiving. We think this is hilarious - we have basically arranged for the boys to go to sleep-away camp together. No one else seems to find it nearly as cute as we do, but whatevs.

Come on with the cuteness

Anyhow, going to Leslie's house means drinking wine. So by the time we were done regaling Alanna with tales of how cute Big and Olie are together and where the coffee maker is and all that (note: I was completely unnecessary to this process, but it's always a fun excuse to get us/the boys together), I was basically a couple of sheets to the wind.

This might be pressing it, a little. I wasn't exactly singing, 'How Dry I Am' on our walk home and vomiting into dumpsters, but let's just say I was aware that the already dangerous proposition of me with a sharp knife was going to Code Red during the cooking process.

As a result, I took things slow, and didn't even think about changing up the recipe one iota - because it was going to be all I could do to remember which of the directions I had followed. As a result of that, I survived with all my digits in tact. However, when I got to the part about how I was supposed to mince and peel ginger, I was concerned.

It's not that I haven't eaten ginger before. I have. My father once put giant, uncooked hunks of it into some Chinese food he made when I was a kid, and I still remember gulping down glass after glass of water to survive that (note: I don't think he did this on purpose to punish me for being a brat. Really.) I just haven't prepared it.

In my haze, I decided the best thing to do would be to put the ginger part off as long as possible on the prospect that when Josh got home he could show me what to do. Unfortunately, the prep for this dish went pretty quickly. Just as I was about to give up and head for my computer to google 'how to prepare ginger' and hope for the best, Josh came in the door. Thank the lord.

Here is what I now know about ginger:

1. You peel it with a peeler like a carrot or potato.
2. You can cut it up and mince it after that. Or,
3. You can us the awesome ginger grater/mincer/shredder thing I randomly got at Crate & Barrel with hopes of just this moment coming along. Which is what I did. And it works a treat.

Josh helpfully hovered with a pot lid to show me how to diffuse any more kitchen fires I might set (thankfully, not needed). And voila, Stir-Fried Ginger Chicken was complete.

The best part about it? It was really, really good. Like surprisingly good. Like, make it again for sure, good. It was like real Chinese food from a real Chinese Food restaurant. I can't believe it. I will admit the sauce smelled great when I was mixing it, but damn it turned out great, too. Tasty. Not too gingery. Delicious. I ate my whole bowl. Well, not the bowl, but you get the point.

Thuy claims this recipe is from The All New All Purpose Joy of Cooking, but I prefer to think of it as a secret, age-old family recipe that she chose to share with me. Either way: delish.

Yum. That's it. Just: yum.

Thuy's Delicious Stir-Fried Ginger Chicken

BEFORE COOKING:
In a medium bowl, mix together thoroughly -
1 egg white, lightly beaten
1 1/2 tbsp cornstarch
1/2 tsp salt (kosher!)

Cut into 3/4" cubes (more easily done if chicken is slightly frozen): 3 boneless, skinless chicken breast halves. Or cut non-frozen package of boneless, skinless chicken breast pieces. Whatever. It's fine. Boy this knife is sharp.

Toss in the egg white mixture. Let stand for 20-30 minutes.

Place on a small plate:
3 scallions, cut into 1/4" pieces (or, you know, whatever " pieces)
2 tsp minced, peeled fresh ginger (which, it turns out, isn't so hard to do)

In a medium bowl, mix together thoroughly:
2 tbsp + 2 tsp sugar
1/2 tsp salt (kosher!)
2 tbsp ketchup
4 tsp white vingear
4 tsp Chinese cooking wine (no) or dry white wine (yes)
2 tsp soy sauce

In a cup, mix together, leaving spoon for later use:
2 tsp cornstarch
2 tsp cool water

Realize as you are typing this that Thuy's very clear instructions leave little room for making jokes.

TO COOK:
Heat a wok or large skillet over high heat until hot. Add 1/2 cup peanut oil, which is sad because Thuy and Jason prefer olive oil, but you are out of olive oil, so peanut it is.

Swirl the oil around the pan until very hot, but not smoking. Or swirl just a little bit and then worry you are going to cause a fire, so call it good enough.

Add the chicken. Quickly stir and flip in the oil to separate the pieces. Think, 'If Thuy thinks I can flip anything in this pan without burning my face off, she is giving me far too much credit.' Swirl a little, using one of 4000 different cooking implements. Once again, good enough.

Cook lightly. Remove with a slotted spoon, leaving oil for later use. Set aside.

Reheat the pan, adding the ginger and scallions. Stir for 30 seconds. Check. Add the soy sauce mixture and stir. Check. Add the cornstarch and stir. Check.

Return the chicken and cook thoroughly. DONG!

Point out that Thuy wrote DONG, not you. But you like it. Who needs to order out anymore? Not me! DONG!

German Sweet Chocolate Pie

2009-11-16T12:21:00.000-08:00

This weekend we went over to a friend's house to watch the Ohio State/Iowa football game. Normally, this is far from the sort of thing either Josh or I would particularly care about. Although Josh certainly enjoys sports, as a good Ames boy, he is an Iowa State fan, not an Iowa fan. And I generally find sports boring as shit.

However, as Josh's best friend Adam is an Iowa fan--and Iowa fan who had stated he'd give into our repeated demands that he come out to LA if Iowa made it to the Rose Bowl--Josh and I both had a vested interest in this game. So, I donned my favorite Iowa tee shirt ("Des Moines. French for 'The Moines'.") and we headed to Tricia's house in Pasadena.

The pros of Tricia's house are plenty--literally. She has, at last count, 7 pets--two bunnies, 3 very portly cats, and 2 enormous mastiffs, which by my count totals somewhere in the neighborhood of 400 pounds of animals for me to play with while everyone else pays attention to boring things like who punted what to whom.

The cons are that everyone there, save for Josh and me, were Ohio State fans - of the most rabid variety. The thing about it is, as I have said before, I don't really give a crap about sports. Yet I was in a room full of people who gave every crap they have ever had about sports, specifically Ohio State sports. They live and die by this shit. They were riveted to the TV, and really, really cared a LOT about what happened.

At one point, when it looked like Iowa might pull it out, Tricia even went outside and burned her Ohio State underwear out of superstition that her wearing/having OSU garb during the games causes them to lose. I sat around quietly, amusing everyone by asking Josh if he would 'bring me a cat' when he went into the kitchen for some beer (hilarious, evidently), and neglected to let anyone know that not only was I there rooting for Iowa, but that I'm a University of Michigan alumna - lest they take me outside and send me the way of Tricia's underwear.

Thus, I contented myself with playing with the various animals and plying everyone with German Sweet Chocolate Pie. The recipe was from Josh's parents' good friends the Renzis. As I'm not generally a big chocolate person, I thought it would be perfect to bring to a big event and hopefully get everyone else to eat it. The 'good' desserts I tend to hoard so when we have them leftover at home I can eat them for breakfast. It's all about creative breakfasts.

The Renzis' Sweet German Chocolate Pie calls for German sweet chocolate, which was a little harder to find than I bargained for. That is to say, there wasn't any in the baking section at the ghetto grocery. Josh and I stopped by another grocery and there wasn't any there, either, at which point I declared we were going to have to go to a fancy grocery. But he wasn't having it and marched us into the candy aisle, where, it turns out, they keep the German sweet chocolate - in the form of chocolate bars.

We looked at all of them, as I was insisting the chocolate had to be German. Luckily - and surprisingly - it turns out that Godiva chocolate is, according to the package, 'a product of Germany,' so Godiva it was. Then were was discussion on how dark/how sweet, blah blah. I'm not sure that really matters, but I believe we used the 85% chocolate dark chocolate. We also discovered that a package is actually 3.5 ozs, so we got a second (milk chocolate) package and I broke off and measured around a half ounce so I could get the official 4 ozs. At home. Not in the store. They don't like it when you do that in the store.

I also lost my mind and neglected to do a thorough search of the house when it came to the alcohol for flavoring the whipped cream. That is to say, I bought a whole bottle of Kahlua even though it appears we already had a nearly full one hiding downstairs. So now if you want white Russians you know where to come.

Shopping stressors aside, the pie was pretty easy to put together and came out looking quite lovely, dare I say so myself. This pie is basically like chocolate mousse pie, very rich and chocolate-y, but not so much so that it is hard to eat, like some deep chocolate things can be. Everyone at the party loved it and ate it all right up, so I think if you are a chocoholic, like 99% of the world, you should obviously make yourself this pie. Plus, really, it looks extremely impressive. Don't you think?

Too bad the pie didn't make Iowa win. Damn it.

Cos & Jackie Renzi's OSU-taming German Sweet Chocolate Pie

1 package (4 ozs) German Sweet Chocolate (AKA get 2 bars of Godiva dark chocolate)
1/2 cup whole milk
2 tbsp sugar (optional)
1 pkg (8 ozs) original cream cheese softened at room temperature
1 pint heavy cream whipped stiff
Kahlua liqueur (or another of your choice)
1 graham cracker crust (or, if you want to make your own, 12 double graham crackers, 1/2 cup melted butter and 1/4 cup sifted confectioner's sugar)

Make graham cracker crust per Ginny's instructions in her Easy Cheesecake recipe, with the following addition: grease pie plate first before patting in the crust. As you learn when Josh admonishes you later as he tries to cut the pie, homemade graham cracker crusts are pretty damn impossible to cut up properly (read: completely impossible) when serving a non-baked pie. Perhaps pre-greasing the pan will help? Perhaps if you are not going to bake the pie it's just a lost cause so you should get a pre-made one and save yourself the trouble?

Beat heavy cream until stiff, add some Kahlua to taste. Or, get your Better Homes & Gardens Cookbook out and following their whipped cream recipe, which also includes sugar and vanilla, because you don't bother to read through this recipe and realize that whipped cream is going to become part of the pie, not pie topping. Whoops. Well, it turned out okay anyhow, but in future, do not do this, and just whip the cream and add in some Kahlua like a good girl. Or do it the other way since it came out fine. Whatevs.

Unwrap chocolate bar #1 and toss into pot. Weigh out .5 ozs from chocolate bar #2 with trusty kitchen scale (gadgets!) so you get a total of 4 ozs, although now that you think about it, 3.5 probably would have done just fine. Put .5 ozs into pot with chocolate bar #1.

Heat chocolate and 2 tbsp of whole milk in a saucepan over low heat, stirring until chocolate is melted. Wonder how come the chocolate doesn't burn? Didn't you learn in 7th grade Home Ec class that you were supposed to use a double boiler or something? Miraculous!

Beat sugar into cream cheese, or don't because you already put sugar into the whipped cream and by now you have read the rest of the recipe and realized you will be using a sum total more sugar than was recommended. Add remaining milk and chocolate mixture and beat until smooth.

Fold in whipped cream (doh!), blending until smooth. Spoon into crust, realizing you have more than you need. So really spoon most of it into the crust, and leave some in the mixing bowl for Josh to enjoy. Swirl the top around like a woman in an icing commercial in an attempt to make the pie look proper.

Read that you are supposed to 'garnish with shaved chocolate.' Oh shit. You did not buy shaved chocolate. There is no mention that you will need shaved chocolate in the ingredients list!

Break off some more chocolate from bar #2 and grate it into a bowl using a cheese grater and then sprinkle onto pie. Voila. Shaved chocolate. Works quite well, really. Not bad.

Freeze until firm (about 4 hours). Feed to Ohio State fans, enjoying the few minutes of pie talk in lieu of football talk. Now that's interesting.

Yasai Yaki Soba

2009-11-12T15:24:00.000-08:00

One of the first Recipe Book recipes I tried - well before this blogging project was even a gleam in my eye - was for Yasai Yaki Soba. I plucked this one out of the book early and with great eager delight as Josh's friends, Heather & Nat Godley, proclaimed it was from Wagamama's - a noodle restaurant so popular in London culture that even I knew to eat there during my semester abroad oh so many moons ago.

Also, obviously, Heather's name is Heather, so anything she recommends is going to be wonderful.

In the ensuing 15 years (did I just say that?), Wagamama's has since gone global (US locations in Boston and DC). And although I have yet to eat there whenever I go home (I'm too busy filling up on subs and seafood. And I forget.), I still remember Tracie's and my pilgrimage to Wagamama's in that winter of 1996 (oy) and how much we loved it.

So naturally, when I saw that the recipe with which Nat and Heather had gifted us hailed from Wagamama's, I didn't need a blog project to prod me into testing it out. Plus, it offered the fun of having to dig up and then use a bunch of exotic ingredients, such as mirin and rice vinegar.

Unfortunately, that first time I tried the Yasai Yaki Soba, the promise didn't quite meet up with the product. I don't remember exactly how or why, just that at the time making it seemed a pretty big undertaking, quite laborious, and the end result was not just disappointing but pretty flamboyantly so. In short, my memory of it was: gross.

Perhaps it is a mark of all the cooking I have done since undertaking this blog that the Yasai Yaki Soba came out okay this time. Luckily, not only am I a bit of a pack rat, but I stalwartly resist Josh's pleas to get rid of things (honestly, we have a predominantly empty attic, so who are we really hurting - other than Josh's back - when I beg him to lug things up there?). This means that I still had all the weird sesame oil type ingredients in the pantry, despite the fact that I likely have never used them since the previous ill-fated Yasai Yaki Soba attempt and the fact that until this project I held no illusions of attempting it again.

In any event, the soba noodles had blessedly fended off the repeated vermin attacks on the kitchen in their little plastic bag at the back of their cabinet, and the odd Asian oils were all in the cooking oil drawer just where I'd left them. Of course, Nat and Heather added some more spice by putting the ingredients in grams, which means that I not only had to use the kitchen scale, but actually had to put off the recipe a day when the odd-sized batteries in said scale died and I had to get replacement ones.

Not even Euro measurements could foil me this time, though. I got to use 3,400 bowls and my wok--and you know how much I enjoy using my obscure kitchen implements. Even though there are quite a lot of ingredients, the recipe seemed easy enough to put together. I have a feeling maybe I had trouble (aka 'messed up') mixing the topping and the seasoning and the sauce before - putting them in at the wrong time? Or maybe I didn't stir fry it long enough so there were egg issues?

I have no idea, but this time it all came out fine--if, it must be said, a little dull. Everything appeared absolutely as it should be--veggies mixing in, egg fluffing up in nice little eggie bits throughout the whole thing. All very Asian and proper looking. The overall flavor, however, was decidedly bland. And bland is not how I recall Wagamama's.

Is it possible the blandness is what I recall, and that I didn't screw it up, per se? But that my hopes given the Wagamama's name were dashed so cruelly it took on more mythic proportions in my memory than it deserved? Well, yes, but who cares?

The point is if you like very mild food, you can make this - your own noodly stir fry instead of the pre-packaged kind - this way and be happy. Or you can probably just double, triple, quadriploople the yasai sauce part and give it more zing. OR, if you live in London or Boston or DC, you can just take your ass out to Wagamama's, but then you'll have to share a counter with other noodle-eaters, and in these swine flu days that might not be so advisable.

Or maybe I've just got the dead taste buds of an old person and must only drink scotch and smoke cigars from now on.

A benchmark of culinary-skill-improvement? Maybe so. Maybe so.

Nat & Heather's Yasai Yaki Soba a la Wagamama's

200 g cooked soba (buckwheat) noodles
2 tbsp oil to stir fry

for the topping:
30 g shredded carrots (i.e., about 2 carrots)
30 g thinly sliced green or red pepper (i.e., about 1/2 pepper)
2 eggs
2 sliced shitake mushrooms

for seasoning:
1 tbsp light soy sauce
1/2 tsp salt (kosher!)
1 tsp mirin (which, if you are wondering, is a Japanese cooking wine)
a few drops of sesame oil

for the yasai sauce:
1 tbsp mirin
1/2 tbsp rice vinegar
1/2 tbsp light soy sauce
a few drops sesame oil
1 tsp each finely chopped red and green peppers

to garnish:
sesame seeds
1 spring onion (aka green onion aka scallion), finely chopped

Take out soba noodles from years-old package. Contemplate weighing them, but realize you only have what you have left so just boil 'em up.

Enjoy preparing all the ingredients and putting them in separate bowls like on a cooking show. Discover that 30 grams of shredded carrots is about 2 carrots and 30 grams of peppers is about a half a pepper. Feed the remaining carrots and some of the remaining pepper to the dog, who likes peppers, do you have a problem with that? Nonetheless, have a ton of pepper left over. I mean, really, cutting into a red pepper for just 1 tsp of it? Isn't that a little wasteful?

Learn how to 'reconstitute' dried mushrooms since the only kind Josh could find were dried. Learn that this means 'dump mushrooms in bowl of warm water for 20 minutes,' which is far less intimidating than the word 'reconstitute.'

Put the cooked noodles, topping, and seasoning ingredients in a bowl and mix with your hand. Crack the eggs and mix thoroughly, which is gross.

Meanwhile, ask Josh to put the rest of the peppers and other leftover veggie bits onto the grill with the green beans he's making lest they just rot in the fridge. You love the earth so, you get your green-friendly responsibility crown tonight, self.

Heat oil in a wok to stir-fry the ingredients. Debate which oil to use: should you use the sesame oil? No, because that appears to just be for seasoning. Should you use peanut oil because this is Asian? Maybe. Decide to go safe with boring canola oil. Safe.

Have Josh hover over you, offering to make sure you have lids and baking soda at hand in case you try to set fire to the kitchen again, and worrying that you have stepped away from the stove for 2 seconds.

Put the mixed ingredients into the hot pan and fry until golden, which is kind of a misnomer because those noodles are brown and ain't nothing going to change that. Determine that 'golden' means 'until the egg fluffs up into nice little eggie specks throughout.' Stir occasionally with a wooden spoon.

Combine the ingredients of the yasai sauce and taking the pan off the heat when golden, mix the sauce in with the noddle mixture. Then turn the noodles out onto a plate and garnish. Isn't 'turning out' what one does to young prostitutes? Just saying.

Heather & Nat note: This is a recipe from my favorite restaurant in London. It's really easy once you get the ingredients and makes a fun 'date night' meal if you can't go out for dinner!

Heather & Heather note: I'd recommend playing around with upping the yasai sauce quantity on this one to make it more flavorful. Then again, I am someone who likes to drown my food in sauce and routinely drinks salad dressing (sad, true). However, as Josh added Tabasco to his serving, I stand by my assessment that this recipe can stand more sauce.

E-Z Chicken Curry

2009-11-09T14:37:00.000-08:00

Hiding away in a secret little corner of the Recipe Book was Josh's Aunt Margo's 'E-Z Chicken Curry' submission. I don't know why I almost missed it, but I very nearly did, so let's all just say thanks I found it.

I have met Margo twice so far - once at my wedding and then again last month at her daughter, Josh's cousin Mya's, wedding in Washington state. Mya is a firefighter, a bad ass, and generally an awesome addition to the family I got as a result of marrying Josh. And I was overtly psyched to get to go to her wedding to her girlfriend Kalin. I spent the better part of my time talking to her trying to convince her that she should could stay with us if only she came down and help out the next time LA has its seasonal fires. I'm not sure she was biting.

Anyhow, Josh's Aunt Margo and her husband John live in New Mexico, so she gifted us with appropriately southwest-y recipes (her other recipe was for Green Chile Quiche). Margo is very sweet and bubbly, and has now infected me with, amongst other things, the need to call Josh's dad 'Baby Stewie,' as she proclaimed him every time she told stories about their childhood.

Josh and I rode our bikes to the grocery store to give my awesome new birthday bike and its awesomer new basket a spin around the block. Unfortunately, we spazzed out at the grocery and accidentally bought cream of mushroom soup which was hiding in the cream of chicken soup row, but it did get to ride home in style in a new zebra-lined bike basket. Plus, cream of chicken, cream of mushroom, who's counting?

Jealous? I would be. This bike is phat.

Her E-Z Chicken Curry was, as sold, easy to make. Once again the cooking was uneventful and the sum total of the meal came out just fine, thank you very much. Sure it looks like baby poo sludge, but that's the price you pay for cooking with curry. Speaking of curry, I went light on it (opting for 1 tbsp instead of 2), but I would recommend not doing that unless you are of the most sensitive of stomachs; it could have withstood more curry flavor for sure. Mostly, it's just nice that it's getting cooler out again as befits these cold weather recipes.

Admit it: this raisin & peanut garnish looks fancy

Margo's Truly E-Z Chicken Curry

1 cup cooked chopped chicken
3 chopped green onions
1/2 chopped apple
1 can cream of chicken soup (or, you know, mushroom. whoops.)
1/2 can milk
1-2 tbsp curry powder (2! use 2!)
cooked rice
raisins
peanuts

Look over ingredients list and realize that before anything else, you have to A. make the rice and B. make the chicken. Choose the white arborio rice from the back of the cabinet because it A. takes less time than the brown rice and B. does not have any moths.

Put breasts of chicken in some olive oil on frying pan and brown. Enjoy using the kitchen scissors from your knife block to cut cooked chicken into appropriately bite-sized pieces, pretending to be the hard-working waitresses from Korean BBQ who do that with the beef on the bones. Then put chicken aside in bowl under tin foil.

Chop up scallions and apple, opting for a whole apple in lieu of a half one because A. it is a small apple and B. you love apples, so why not?

Saute onions and apple in a little butter - about 2 tbsp - until soft. Wonder, while you're doing this, if olive oil might be better. Know, after all the comments you got from last week's brownies that as long as it's not I Can't Believe It's Not Butter, it's probably fine.

Realize you bought cream of mushroom instead of cream of chicken. Decide it's close enough.

Add the chicken, soup, milk and curry powder. Stir well. Heat until hot and bubbly. Serve over rice. Top with raisins and peanuts. Eat. The end.

Margo notes: I got this recipe out of the newspaper in 1965 when (first husband) Rick and I were first married. It was a good budget stretcher!

Heather notes: 2 tbsps of curry, not one, for sure. Also, cream of mushroom soup does appear to be an acceptable cream of chicken substitute. Amaaazing.

Disgustingly Rich Brownies

2009-11-04T09:28:00.000-08:00

What? Another recipe from me? Yes it's true! I told you I was back.

As I was paging through the main courses section to see what else I had left, I discovered a few non-main-course outliers hiding in there. Of course. One of them was for 'Disgustingly Rich Brownies' from one of my best friends, Andy, and his wife, Elizabeth.

Andy and I met on the first day of college orientation, when we were sitting next to each other at the back of the mandatory financial aid lecture. Another new friend, Rachel, wound up getting a ride with him somewhere and pronounced him a 'nice guy,' so when we kept running into each other after school started we quickly became friends. This was surely aided by the fact that I had a hot roommate and lived on a floor of all girls, the company of whom he surely enjoyed when we hung out. As Andy was initially a commuter, we quickly established a pattern of 'Heather night', where he would stay late on campus one night/week and we'd have dinner or hang out or I would do headstands by the mailboxes or something equally as normal. A tradition that extended through the years, after he moved onto campus, and then later into weekly Heather night phone calls after we graduated and moved away.

Fast forward 10 or so years later and we were in each other's weddings--his a very cool one in downtown Detroit (cool places in Detroit! who knew?) to the beautiful Miss Elizabeth. As of today, Elizabeth is just a few weeks away from popping out their first baby, so I think it is an appropriate time to celebrate their impending son with some of Elizabeth's fancy brownies. That sort of thing. And since amongst her other good qualities, Andy has always extolled her cooking talents, I was excited to try the recipe out.

There isn't much to report on the baking front. There were no fires or other major disasters. The brownie recipe was very straightforward and easy to follow, which I appreciate greatly. Plus--and this is completely amazing--I had all the ingredients in house. I'm not sure I like anything more than being able to try out a new recipe without having to make a grocery store run.

Of course, Josh took one look at the brownies I'd made and accused me of trying to make him fat, so perhaps that wasn't the desired outcome. Then he ate one, and pronounced it a little more 'cake-y' than 'moist brownie-y,' which he thinks may be because I over-baked them. I baked them for the requisite 40 minutes, but he might be right: not a speck of crumb so much as threatened to come off when I checked the center, so....

Regardless, I could possibly add something to them to make them moister (although what that would be I have no clue), or just bake them for less time. Or I could just realize that they are chocolatey and lovely and people are going to love them and this mix probably makes a great from-scratch chocolate cake mix, too, which isn't exactly a bad thing.

Jealous?

Elizabeth's Disgustingly Rich Brownies

1 cup butter (or, in this case, I Can't Believe It's Not Butter, which might be part of the reason it could be moister. Stupid butter substitute.)
2 cups sugar
4 eggs
3/4 cup cocoa
1 1/4 cups flour
1 tsp vanilla extract
1/4 tsp salt (kosher!)
8" or 9" square baking pan (the lovely silicone one I recently realized is best for this sort of thing)

Preheat oven to 350. Check.

Grease pan. Check.

Stir together cocoa and sugar. Be smug that you have cocoa in the house, and extra sugar when it looks like you are going to run out. Check.

Stir in butter. Or crappy butter substitute, which at least if nothing else gets rid of all the butter substitute. Check.

Add eggs and vanilla. Stir. Decide 'stir' means mix in mixing bowl. Check.

Add flour and salt. Mix 'til smooth (not too much). Check.

Bake at 350 in oven 'til toothpick comes out clean in center, which Elizabeth says is about 40-50 minutes, but might have been a little too much in my oven.

Leave brownies out to cool, prompting Josh to declare they were overbaked and accuse you of trying to kill him with fatness before even eating them. Cut into brownie squares, take picture, and then put plate into refrigerator because the dog loves chocolate and has stolen himself some brownies before and you distinctly do NOT need that hassle.

Forget that you put the plate int the refrigerator so the brownies dry out by the next morning. Salvage them by putting them into tupperware and heating in the microwave for 40 seconds before you eat them for breakfast. Check.

Elizabeth notes: So yummy! And fudgy!

Heather notes: You can probably put nuts in these, too, if that's your bag.

Tortelilini with Fresh Tomato Basil Sauce

2009-11-02T13:24:00.000-08:00

Hurrah! I am back! Several days schmoozing in Austin topped off with a few more schmoozing in New York. I could go into detail, but honestly there is far too much to enumerate here. Suffice it to say: made new friends, saw old ones, talked to fancy people, saw a staged reading of one of my scripts. All in all very gratifying and whirlwindish.

And now, by the grace of Greyskull (that's right, isn't it?) I'm home. The boys are pig-piling on me every night like it's their job, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

Over the weekend, I jumped back into the recipe book with my cousin Karen's Tortellini with Fresh Tomato Basil Sauce. This is the Karen Davis I THOUGHT gave me my Aunt Ellen's cheesy poofs recipe, not the Karen Davis who actually did. She is married to my cousin Justin and fantastic and they have the cutest little kid maybe ever. And she was once almost on The Real World. I think I may have said that before, but only because I obviously find this fact fascinating, mostly because she is not a crazy, alcoholic, omni-sexual asshole, which appears to be the casting requirement for that show.

I had dreams that I'd manage to squeeze in a recipe during my one day layover between Austin and NYC, but the four hour nap I took between getting off the plane and going to the U2 concert effectively killed that idea. So the fun had to wait until my complete return.

Josh was wonderful and went to the grocery and picked up items, which included him calling asking if tortellini was the same as rigatoni. When I explained to him that not only was it not the same as rigatoni, but that he was going to actually have to leave the pasta aisle and head to the refrigerator section, this was met with complete bafflement. 'It's in the freezer?' he asked. 'No. No. The refrigerator. Like with the dairy,' I explained. 'So, the freezer,' he replied.

It went on like this for a while until he finally discovered that there is pasta in the refrigerator section, a pure revelation to him. Even then, he tried to insist that this was unusual for grocery stores, but I think I may have gotten him to see the light.

When he came home, full of the mystery that is refrigerated pasta, we set to work, which mostly entailed him supervising the tortellini as it boiled - knowing as he did that I would ignore it, not stir it, and generally over/under do it.

I looked at the recipe and noticed the tomatoes were not supposed to be cooked for the sauce. It was at this point that I made an executive decision to cook them. You see, I might not know jack about most forms of cooking, but not only am I (and Josh) okay when it comes to basic Italian food, but I also know that I just do not like raw tomatoes. I do not like them, Sam I Am. Cook them for five minutes, however, and they are delightful.

So I broke the rules and went off the reservation, because I was hungry and because I knew 100% without a doubt that I would basically be throwing this pasta away if I did not cook the tomatoes. So the bad news is: Karen's Tortellini with Fresh Tomato Basil Sauce featured a little cheating. The good news is: it turned out quite well, actually. The sauce was lovely, although Josh thought there should be more of it. Perhaps this was impacted by the fact that it was cooked versus uncooked? Either way, the basil didn't overwhelm as I'd feared, and the balsamic was delightful. And Josh now understands the marvel of the refrigerator section, so all in all I'd call it a win.

Cousin Karen's Tortellini with Fresh Tomato Basil Sauce

1 pkg uncooked tortellini (20 oz) (any kind)
6-8 medium tomatoes, seeded and chopped (~ 3 cups)
3 tbsp snjpped fresh basil leaves
1 tsp balsamic vinegar
1/2 tsp salt (kosher!)
1/4 tsp ground black pepper
2 tbsp olive oil (ish)
2 lg garlic cloves, pressed
1/4 cup grated fresh Parmesan cheese

Cook tortellini and drain. Have Josh insist you should put salt and oil in the boiling water for tortellini, and yet more olive oil on the drained tortellini once drained to keep it from sticking. Whatevs.

Chop tomatoes and remove seeds. Realize you probably could have been less of a stickler about the de-seeding in light of your cooking said tomatoes decision.

Snip basil, which is of course store bought because those asshole raccoons dug up all your own basil. Thorougly enjoy the snipping, however, and wonder why more recipes don't call for this.

Add basil, vinegar, salt and pepper to tomatoes. Or do no such thing in light of your cooking decision.

Heat oil over medium heat in large saucepan; add garlic. After garlic is lightly browned, remove pan from heat. Or leave it on heat and throw in the tomatoes until Josh deems them 'ready.' Then throw in rest of ingredients, basil last, for a final minute of cooking.

Add tortellini and tomato mixture; toss gently. Spoon pasta into bowl and top with grated cheese. Be pleased with self this turned out okay, even if it wasn't exactly what Karen had in mind.

Karen's notes: Prep and cook time = 30 minutes. Enjoy this - it's quick, light, and tasty!
Heather's notes: And obviously works if you cook it, too.

Almond Crusted Chicken Breasts

2009-10-21T10:25:00.000-07:00

It's crunch time here at Casa Huntington for the next couple of weeks. I leave this afternoon for a few days of schmoozing and general merriment at the Austin Film Festival, only to turn around and head off to New York for a staged reading of Mike's and my pilot. This all sounds very glamorous and exciting--and in fact would be if I were at the point where I was making enough money off the whole situation to do fancy things like pay my mortgage. Hopefully that is soon to come. In the meantime, I'll settle for exciting.

What with my busy week coming up, I very much wanted to squeeze in a blog before I hit the road. So last night I whipped up my cousin Bobbie's Almond-Crusted Chicken Breasts. Bobbie and Paul are officially my dad's first cousins (or specifically, Paul is my dad's first cousin, and Bobbie is his wife). This is how we rock it in my family - as I've said before, everyone is a cousin, and we've got them coming out of the woodwork. Here in LA, in fact, we just had brunch with my cousin's cousins (and a delicious brunch it was). I don't know if this actually makes us even related, but in my family, it qualifies them in the 'family visit several times a year' category. The best part is, all of my cousins are awesome. How lucky am I? Do you even know where your siblings live? I didn't think so.

Anyhow, Bobbie and Paul live in the same town that I grew up in, which means: 1. their kids (i.e., my second cousins? I think?) Debbie and Jeff went to my high school. Debbie and Jeff were a little older than me, which meant that at that age I never got to hang out with them, which I viewed as a tremendous shame because they were cool. 2. Bobbie and Paul are part of heavy family visit rotation, usually involving Thanksgiving and most Jewish holidays.

#2 means that although I have seen Bobbie at family meal-gatherings several times/year for my whole life, I may have never had her Almond-Crusted Chicken Breasts before--because obviously there are set meals at those various holidays, which tend to include things like turkey and brisket, not lovely dinner entree chicken.

Bobbie's Almond-Crusted Chicken Breasts looked pretty easy and blessedly fast to make, which was good because I was trying to get them on the table and in my stomach before I headed out to a lecture at the Writer's Guild. I ran around the kitchen creating a dip in egg, dip in flour, dip in almond assembly line, while also doing Savitri's Oven Roasted Broccoli for a side.

All was going well. Broccoli came out on time, not burned. Chicken in the frying pan. Check. Turn chicken over. Check.

And then it came time to put the chicken to the side and make the sauce. The recipe calls for mixing shallots, wine, and butter in with the small remainder of grease/fat left over from the chicken that cooked in the pan. Sounds like a great idea, right? Absolutely - until you throw the shallots into the pan, and some of the grease evidently leaps over the side of the pan and then CATCHES FIRE.

Within seconds, a flambe-sized conflagration was engulfing my beautiful and still-pretty-new stove. A giant explosion of flames went from the entire pan all the way up to the vent, and I thought, 'Oh, good, this is how my house burns down. Well now I know how that happens.'

I want to make one thing clear: I I know I have a tendency to exaggerate for comedic effect at times. This cannot be exaggerated. This was kind of seriously serious. Just so you know.

I also evidently yelled 'OH SHIT!' with enough alarm to prompt Josh to come tearing up the stairs to see what fresh havoc I had wrought. By the time he got to the kitchen, I was holding the fire extinguisher, debating whether or not I would have enough time to still get to my WGA lecture if I doused the kitchen with it.

This is how Josh found me: staring at the fire with the extinguisher perched in my hands, but not in use. I think he thinks that I was panicking/having no idea what to do with it, but I had noticed by now that the flames were actually abating slightly, so I thought I'd give the fire a second to hopefully burn out before I made that big mess. And ruined the shallots.

Turns out that in the face of an insane emergency, I enter such a state of disbelief that I do not act out of shock. Odd. I actually sit back and think. I'm not sure if this lack of reflex is going to be the death or the success of me, but there it is.

The flames burned out, and Josh put a lid on them for good measure.

The aftermath

Lessons learned?

1. It turns out that I do know that you can't throw water on a grease fire. I never thought for a second to do that. Surprised? Me too. Thank God.

2. Putting the fire extinguisher in the corner behind the stove is a really bad idea, because I had to reach around the flames to get it. Let's just say I'm lucky I was using the left-hand burner and not the right-hand one, otherwise I would have been screwed. New placement of the kitchen fire extinguisher: anywhere else.

3. As Josh said when I fried the Curry Puffs, you should always have a lid around when you're working with oil/grease in the event of such a fire. I guess the lid is the way to end the pan fire. Never mind the fact that I would have burned my arm putting it out because the first gasp of that fire way WAY bigger than the size of the lid--it's better than burning down the house. Note to self: keep pot lids out!

4. Shallots can survive an explosion.

As you can see from number four, after our little adventure we still managed to eat dinner. I even got to the lecture on time.

As for the chicken, it fared quite well. I mixed the butter and the wine in another pot on another burner, and was happy enough to not use the shallots, but Josh thought most of them looked okay and put them on the chicken. Oddly, they were. I think using I Can't Believe It's Not Butter in lieu of normal butter may have given the sauce a slightly odd flavor. In fact, I think I might put the kibosh on using that as a butter substitute, because I would like to scapegoat it for the fire and believe that were it regular butter or margarine that wouldn't have happened. The chicken itself was nice. Josh of course liked it, and I'm big into almond-crusting things, so I bet I might use this for fish in the future. I just will wear my fire-retardant suit when I do it.

You'd never guess this chicken nearly burned
my house down, would you?

Bobbie's Explosive Almond-Crusted Chicken Breasts

4 skinless, boneless chicken halves
1 egg
slat and freshly ground pepper
1/2 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese*
1/2 cup sliced (flaked) almonds, finely chopped
6 tbsp unsalted butter, at room temperature (or I Can't Believe It's Not Butter - could that be the culprit?)
3 tbsp olive oil
all-purpose (plain) flour for dusting
2 tbsp minced shallots
1/4 cup minced fresh flat-leaf Italian parsley
1/4 cup dry white wine
lemon wedges for garnish

Trim any visible fat from the chicken. Or ignore this because you are lazy.

Place each chicken breast between two sheets of waxed paper and, using a rolling pin, flatten to an even thickness of about 1/2". Or skip that step, because Bobbie amended the recipe to say that if you use thinly sliced chicken breasts or cutlets (which you did), there is no need to flatten them. Do the dance of joy, because as far as you are concerned, beating a chicken breast between wax paper is the equivalent to loading up a water gun with salmonella and squirting it all over your kitchen walls.

Bust out your nut chopper and chop up the almond slivers. Yay kitchen toys!!!

In a shallow bowl, lightly beat the egg and season with salt and pepper. In another shallow bowl, mix the Parmesan (and Romano) and almonds together.

In a frying pan over medium heat, melt 2 tbsp of (I Can't Believe It's Not) butter with the olive oil. Dust the chicken breasts with flour and dip in the egg, then in the Parmesan mixture. Place the breasts in the pan and cook, turning once, until golden brown and opaque throughout, about 3 minutes total. Or way more than that because you are doing other things. Is this why it caught fire?

Transfer to a warmed platter, or, you know, a plate. Season lightly with salt and pepper and keep warm - via the huge flames blowing up next to it.

Pour off all but a light film of fat from the pan. Place over medium heat. Dump in the shallots swiftly and then back away due to the huge explosion. Yell, 'OH SHIT' and debate dousing with fire extinguisher (see above), which you thankfully don't have to do because the fire goes out on its own before it could catch anything else on fire. Have Josh cover it with a lid anyhow. Think, If I weren't going to get in my car in 10 minutes, I would need a BIG drink right about now. Thank God for huge favors.

Put a little olive oil and parsley into another pot on another burner ans saute for 30 seconds. Add the wine and gradually whisk in the remaining 4 tbsp (I Can't Believe It's Not) butter to form a creamy emulsion. Or a weird foamy thing. You don't really like I Can't Believe It's Not Butter, except on your corn on the cob in spray form.

Season to taste with salt and pepper. Spoon the sauce over the chicken breasts and garnish with the lemon wedges - as well as the surviving shallots. Serve immediately.

That's it for a few days, guys. See you when I get back from Austin/NYC.

*Bobbie note: Use grated Romano cheese instead. It's more flavorful.

Heather Note: I used a mix. Worked nicely.

Chocolate Chip Marble Cake

2009-10-19T10:19:00.000-07:00

On Friday night, Josh and I went to a dinner party/housewarming soiree at our friend Emma's, for which I gladly volunteered one of the many cake/pie desserts I have left. On the docket: my friend Jillian's Chocolate Chip Marble Cake.

I met Jillian at the Austin Film Festival a few years ago. I have no idea exactly how we met. Likely my friend John (whom I met the first night by marching up to the first person I saw and informing him that he was going to be my friend) introduced us. I say this because I have rarely met anyone who likes introducing people to each other more--even if he has only a vague idea who anyone is. John and Jillian and I were quickly peas and carrots, and have since kept in touch. John, in fact, turned out to be the John who hired me to work for him in LA (i.e., I have a lot to thank him for).

As for Jillian, she still lives in Texas, which means I only get to see/speak to her very periodically. In fact, if you asked me for details about Jillian, I would have very little to offer. She lives in Houston, she is going back to school for a law degree, she is very funny, blah blah blah. What I know most about Jillian is this: I adore her. And isn't that all you really need to know?

It is especially fitting that I did Jillian's recipe this week because I am in fact going back to the Austin Film Festival on Wednesday. Megan and I placed in their screenplay competition, so we're heading down to Texas for some Lone-Star-style schmoozing and general film festival fun. And if my last AFF experience is anything to go by, it is going to be a great time and very personally beneficial.

Speaking of Megan's and my script, a side note: I happily wish to redact my doom and gloom from before re: the Nicholl. You will surely be relieved to know that in the ensuing time since that post, inquiries for the script have been slowly but surely coming in. So I am feeling much better on that front, which is quite a relief.

Now, back to the cooking at hand. Jillian sent me her grandmother's Chocolate Chip Marble Cake for the Recipe Book, which I thought was very sweet (sweet of her to send, not the taste of the cake). What is hilarious about this recipe is how brand-loyal it is. It calls for 'Duncan Hines' butter cake mix, 'Jello Brand' vanilla pudding mix, etc., as though if I got the Betty Crocker kind of cake mix it just wouldn't be the same. Pretty funny.

Regardless, I did my best to obey the brand edicts (or rather Josh, who did the shopping for this one, did). Come Friday afternoon I hit the kitchen to mix everything up in what I thought would be ample time for the dinner party. Except, it turns out, as specific as Jillian as in telling me I needed Wesson-brand vegetable oil, she neglected to tell me how long to bake the cake. I decided to go by the box instructions, but as this cake had a lot of additional ingredients to the mix and Jillian said to cook it at a lower temp than the box did, well, let's just say it took a bit longer and featured me running upstairs every 15 minutes, sticking a chopstick into the cake, seeing that it wasn't done, swearing, and going back downstairs again.

At some point we were clearly going to be late to Emma's, so I declared the cake done and we went over there hoping for the best, which it turns out we got. Everyone there lost their minds for this thing. It really was nice and moist and tasty and in fun pretty layers. One of Emma's friends even kept saying that it tasted better than his favorite all time cake growing up that his mother used to make him. I mean !!!!!

Let's just say I was pleased with myself. And the cake was good.

Muy Delicioso

Jillian's Nana's Impressive Chocolate Chip Marble Cake

1 Duncan Hines brand butter cake mix (ha)
1 Jello brand vanilla pudding mix (haha)
1/2 pint sour cream
4 eggs
3/4 cup Wesson oil (or whatever brand canola oil I had in the house, because Josh claims I am trying to kill him when I buy regular vegetable oil)
1 cap-full of vanilla

5-6 oz chocolate syrup (aka '2/3's cup')
1 sm pkg of chocolate chips

Send Josh to grocery store for items. Include 'chocolate syrup' on that list until Josh points out that you have three kinds already in the fridge. Have Josh call needing more details on the pudding mix. What type? The instant powder? The kind that needs to be heated up? What size? Have no answer. Just tell him to get you one of each, figuring that if the info isn't specific, it will be okay either way.

Preheat oven on bake 325 degrees. Rejoice that you are going to get to use your bundt pan for the first time.

Combine first set of ingredients one at a a time. Make a game-time decision that you will use the smaller box of vanilla pudding (the non-heat-on-stove kind), for whatever it's worth. Separate half of the batter (lean heavy on the vanilla side).

Have no idea what Jillian means by this. Read through the rest of the recipe, and determine what she means is, split the batter in 'half,' because you will mix half with the chocolate ingredients and leave the other half as the pure vanilla ones. Therefore, make the vanilla 'half' a little bit larger than a proper half, which will surely upset your mathematically-minded friends.

Mix in the chocolate ingredients, i.e., mix the chocolate ingredients with each other and then mix in the smaller vanilla half. Pour into bundt cake pan one batter at a time, starting with the vanilla half. I.e., pour in the vanilla half, then pour in the chocolate half. I think.

Realize Jillian has not told you how long to bake it for. Look at box, which tells you about 35-45 minutes for your bundt pan, but at 350 degrees. Quickly discover that at 325 degrees with all that syrup and whatnot in it, that after 45 minutes your cake is still soup. Bake for 10 more minutes, to no effect. Then again. Then decide this is crap and ratchet the oven up to 350 and repeat until the cake appears almost done and you're out of time anyway.

Stick cake in bundt pan into refrigerator to speed cooling process and keep safe from Judah, your friend's food-fascinated dog who will definitely eat it if you leave it unattended.

Determine, after having watched Peggy's family serve bundt cake to the visiting priest (played by Colin Hanks!) on Mad Men that bundt cakes must have icing, even if Jillian didn't tell you about it. Google 'bundt cake icing' and come up with the following recipe, which makes way more icing that you need for just one cake no matter what it says, and which you assemble at Emma's:

1/3 cup butter
2 cups powdered sugar
1 1/2 tsp vanilla
2-4 tbsp water

Melt first three ingredients and mix in saucepan. Add in water one tbsp at a time until it is the consistency you want. Mix until smooth.

Wedge cake out of bundt pan with the aid of of a knife, nervously used to pry it loose around the sides, wondering if you should have buttered the pan? Pour way more than you need icing over the cake. Wish icing would come out white, but it comes out clear. Wonder: is this because I used 'I Can't Believe It's Not Butter' instead of butter because the chiropractor suggested Josh cut out animal fats to reduce his cholesterol? Have no idea. But it tastes great anyhow, so whatevs.

Triumph!

Jillian note: This is so good - so good and easy to make.

Heather note: Yes it is, once you figure out how long to bake it, which I still don't know. Also, obviously because the chocolate chips are mixed in with syrup, don't expect them to bake up like chocolate chips. They just bake up like a big mound of chocolate in the middle of the cake. Which is obviously just fine with everyone.

Sunny Banana Pie

2009-10-15T12:55:00.000-07:00

My parents' lovely friend Lorraine Prost, she of the Barbara Salad, also gave me a recipe for Sunny Banana Pie. I have learned that Lorraine likes to name recipes after the people who she gets them from, which makes perfect sense. It's a very logical impulse. But the interesting thing is that she doesn't make them possessive. Like I would call something Barbara's Salad. But she just turns their name into the proper-noun-recipe title, Barbara Salad.

Did you think you were going to get a grammar lesson today? You are welcome.

What I'm trying to say in a lot of yammering here is that I think she got her banana pie recipe from someone named Sunny. Although in my mind it also makes perfect sense that you would call any banana pie Sunny Banana Pie because it is happy and yellow and therefore sunny. I obviously have the mentality of a seven-year-old.

Also, I think Sunny might be her sister-in-law? Or sister? Or I have no idea.

Regardless, and it pains me greatly to say this, there is one major flaw with Lorraine's Sunny Banana Pie. That is, that I dislike bananas. Not with the same fervor with which Megan greets raspberries (do you have a fetish that involves seeing a red-headed woman go, 'Yuck?' Then feed Megan raspberries.), but nonetheless. Will I eat them when I'm starving? Yes. Will I tolerate it if they are mixed in a smoothie? Yes. But if they are the overweening flavor, the the chances are I am not going to be too psyched.

I was hoping that perhaps the Sunny Banana Pie might, through the miracle of alchemy, not have too strong a banana flavor. It has cream cheese and whipped cream and graham cracker crust, so maybe when you mixed them and baked the overall effect would be great, like with Ponzi Bread.

I was obviously being duped into optimism by that 'sunny' word again, as I then realized that the pie doesn't get baked; rather, you just mix it and chill. Which means: it's very banana-y. Which therefore means: I didn't really like it. But how could I? It basically tastes like banana pie.

Which is unfortunate, as I was hoping it would be my breakfast for the better part of this week and instead it is sitting uneaten and sad in the fridge. On the upside, I have discovered that my plan to put some mozzarella and lemon on the Scallops Florentine makes it a lovely breakfast. Yes, I'm eating scallop casserole for breakfast. You know how I feel about breakfast.

That said, I am going to stick to my guns and say the following: I maintain that Sunny Banana Pie is a good pie. It's not like it's weird or anything, it just tastes like a bananas. And for those people who like bananas, I strongly suggest that you make it. It is easy and fast and the graham cracker crust and whipped cream were lovely, so I bet if you dig bananas, you will dig this pie. I may be slightly persuaded by the fact that I really like Lorraine and do not want to pan anything she gave me. However, I don't care. It's my blog and I'm allowed to say what I want.

Taking this 'sunny' thing too far?

Lorraine's Sunny Banana Pie

3 bananas
1 8oz pkg cream cheese (softened)
2 cups milk
1 3 1/4 oz pkg instant vanilla pudding
graham cracker crust
whipping cream and sugar

Be disturbed that there are no instructions on how to make this mythical 'graham cracker crust.' Go to grocery, fail to find a pre-made one, and then decide you are smart and will use Ginny's graham cracker crust-making instructions from her Cheesecake Recipe. Smart.

Slice bananas into crust and make them fairly level. Actually slice with the knife coming towards your thumb like you see fancy people do on TV. Realize that you being you, you must do this very slowly and gingerly. Survive, thumb in tact, with a blood-free pie. Huzzah!

In a mixing bowl, slowly add 1/2 cup milk to softened cream cheese (what is this, an appetizer?) until blended smoothly. Be unsure why Lorraine was so adamant about the slowly part, but decide to listen.

Add pudding mix and remaining milk and beat with electric mixer for 1 minute at slow speed. Pour over bananas in crust and chill. Look at pie and realize the mix is a little lumpy. You probably could have mixed more. Doh.

Before serving, whip cream with sugar and mound on top of pie. Wish Lorraine had told you how to whip the cream, what proportions, etc., but know Josh knows how to do this. Ask Josh to help, but then realize Josh is finishing fan installation. Find instructions in Better Homes & Gardens cookbook yourself. The proportions are: 1 cup of whipping cream to 2 tbsps of sugar.

Have Josh come in while you're whipping and take over. As BH&G recommends soft peaks, dump cream onto pie once you reach the soft peak stage. Discover this runs counter to Lorraine's strong feelings about mounding, as the whipped cream slurps over the sides. Do a magnificent job pulling that together if you do say so yourself, and note in the Recipe Book that you should get to stiff peaks next time. Stiff.

Get fancy with the organic dried Trader Joe's banana chips Josh has stashed in the pantry and use them to adorn the pie. Sunny!

Whipped cream - GOOD. Graham cracker crust - GOOD. Banana innards... banana-y.

Lorraine notes: This is one of my family's and Heather's mom and dad's favorite desserts. I make my own crust, but pre-made crusts are sold everywhere. Enjoy!

Heather notes: My dad doesn't like strawberries. I'm not the only one who doesn't enjoy all fruits.

North End Biscotti

2009-10-13T09:26:00.000-07:00

In my 34 years, I have lived in quite a few places. I have lived in the suburbs, in college dorms, and in apartments from London to Hollywood and everywhere in between (aka Ann Arbor and Chicago). And now I live in my beloved mullet. But long before the mullet was my apartment in the North End.

The North End is Boston's Little Italy neighborhood. Unlike, say, New York's Little Italy, this one is still pretty much in tact. Yes, there is the inevitable war between the property-value-upping yuppies and the old guard Italians, but by and large the character of the neighborhood is still pretty unadulterated. The streets literally waft with the smells of Italian cooking, old women hang out of their upper-level windows and give you the evil eye. It is magnificent.

When I moved back to Boston in 2001, my parents were so excited to have me back in their neck of the woods that they actually found an apartment for me. They pounded the pavement, saw places, picked one out, the whole works. Pretty impressive under any circumstances, but especially so given that my mother isn't exactly a big fan of navigating the city on her own.

So it was that I got off the plane and moved in, sight unseen, to the most kickass apartment imaginable. Seriously. Third floor walk up. New, gutted interior. Hardwood floors. Above a restaurant. Fire escapes. View out onto Hanover Street (the main drag), and the rest of the city, besides. It was ridiculous.

The place was so great I felt like I was a better person merely from the fact that I got to live there. And the sheer amount of walking I did (parking in the North End is a nightmare, so I used my car so little most friends didn't even know I had one) kept the weight off me that I otherwise would have gained from living within a four-block radius of about 45 amazing Italian restaurants that I patronized with reckless abandon. It must also be said here that this is the apartment I lived in when Josh and I met, so it must have been a lucky one.

I have always been a fan of Italian food. I mean, honestly, who isn't? But even I can't argue with it. It is simply stem to stern delicious.

That said, I'm not usually bowled over by traditional Italian desserts. Sure, cannoli and what all are fine, but I don't lose my mind over them. Put into that category biscotti, which to me are basically tooth-breakingly hard cookies. I guess some people flip for them, but I generally have more of a take it or leave it attitude toward them.

And yet, perhaps in a very thoughtful homage to my former, fantastic North End apartment, my parents' friends the Wilchins gave me a recipe for North End Biscotti. Now, I know I made this once before, because I have the note 'awesome' next to them in the margin. Still, I was dubious, as I have a vague memory of thinking they were good, but not quite right?

Nonetheless, Biscotti time had tome. Today was a bake sale at Josh's work, and although the Biscotti are far from my last sweet, they are the last in the cookie section, and we all know a non-messy, individual-sized item is going to be better for the bake sale venue than a giant pie.

I wrote on my calendar that I needed to bake the Biscotti for him yesterday, went to the grocery over the weekend to get the missing ingredients (pecans), and got ready. One benefit of the Biscotti is that they are very simple to make. Nonetheless, I tried my absolute damndest to screw them up. Really, I gave it the old college try for sure - including such things as attempting to forget several of the ingredients.

But despite all the travails, the Biscotti not only survived, it triumphed. It was, how do I put this...phenomenal. Josh called me this morning to tell me he'd had some and they were amazing, but it wasn't until I bit into my breakfast Biscotti with my tea that I realized I had in fact pulled off quite a feat. Not only do they taste good - and they taste damn good - but the texture. Oh the texture! How did I pull off this perfection of texture? They are the perfect, absolute perfect hardness. Hard enough for the satisfying crunch of Biscotti, but not so hard (as many even professional ones are) that they make you fear for your fillings. There is even a light, fluffy element to them as you crunch. I don't know how on earth I did it.

All I can say is that after evidently making them twice, and both times being pleasantly surprised, Sue Wilchins' North End Biscotti get an unmitigated TIDWTE thumbs up. So it is here that I give a big thank you to Sue for giving me this recipe. And another to my parents for that most amazing of apartments. And another to Josh for finding me while I lived there.

And for those readers who may be in the vicinity of Josh's bake sale today, I highly recommend you go get yourself some. These little effers are delicious.

Really, truly impressive

Sue Wilchins' TIDWTE Award-Winning North End Biscotti

1 1/2 cup flour
1/2 tsp salt (Kosher!)
1/2 tsp baking powder
1 stick butter
1 1/4 cup sugar
4 large eggs
4 cups pecans
1 tsp vanilla

Butter two loaf pans and sprinkle with flour.

Add butter, vanilla, sugar and eggs. Beat well. Answer door because your cleaning people are here, which is very surprising to you because you were sure when they called this morning you were talking about them coming on Wednesday and not today. Have them take one look at the ladder in the hallway, plaster all over the floor of the guest room, and lack of electricity on the right side of the house due to Josh's ceiling-fan installation project and say, 'We'll come back.' Oops.

Add dry ingredients. Beat only to blend. Stir in nuts. Answer door because your dog walker is here for Big. Have to explain to her why you are shuffling around your kitchen in an apron in the middle of what would normally be a work day.

Taste batter and realize you forgot to put in the sugar. Think, 'God damn am I lucky that I like to lick the beater blades, because otherwise this would have been two loaves of suck.' Put in sugar on the premise that 'Late is indeed better than never.' Taste batter. It tastes much better.

Divide the batter into the two loaf pans. Look at them proudly, ready to go into the oven, at which point you realize you forgot the stupid pecans. Dump batter back into mixing bowl where you stir in the two bags of pecans. Thank heavens you randomly have four bread loaf pans, so you can just put the two dirty ones in the sink and re-butter and flour the other two for use.

Bake about 55 minutes ('til tester comes out clean). Realize Sue forgot to tell you at what temperature you should do this. Decide on the ubiquitous 350 because it is, well, ubiquitous, and hope for the best.

Remove from oven. Place a wet paper towel over the pan so it is touching the loaf! Wonder why this needs an exclamation point! Cover with aluminum foil (or wax paper because you just ran out of aluminum foil) and cool completely while you go to the chiropractor.

Return from chiropractor and remove from pans. Wrap in plastic wrap and refrigerate overnight - or a few hours while you help Josh complete the fan installation project (holding a flashlight is important!) and make dinner because you sure as shit aren't getting up at six tomorrow morning to finish this off. This will happen now.

Use a serrated knife to cut thin - 3/16" to 1/4" slices. Wonder how on earth anyone knows what a 3/16" slice looks like, but just eyeball it to the measurement 'not big.' Place on cookie sheet(s) and bake about 15 minutes, once again at an unappointed temperature that you decide will be 350. Watch closely so they don't burn. Or take a bath, during which time you get increasingly antsy that the timer hasn't gone off. Get out of bath to discover that timer never rang and 15 minutes was over God knows how long ago. Take out thankfully unburned Biscotti. Worry that they aren't hard enough, and hope they harden over night. They do.

Sue notes: They are delicious! Especially with espresso or cappuccino!

Heather notes: Damn straight!

Scallops Florentine

2009-10-12T09:32:00.000-07:00

Happy Columbus Day! I know Columbus Day is a terrible holiday that in its way is racist, ethnocentric, and celebrates the ultimate exploitation and death of untold numbers of Native Americans, which is obviously why as a stay-at-home employee I don't give myself this day off. However, I do have a Columbus Day story. Want to hear it?

When I went to college, I went to the University of Michigan (Go Blue!). Being from a fairly protective family in a unbelievably quiet bedroom community of Boston, my freshman year was nothing if not a crash course in how to live in the big world.

When I discovered that people were going to go away for Columbus Day, I thought I might do the same. I hit on the idea of flying home to Boston and then driving up to New Hampshire to pick up my best friend, Beth, and then onto Burlington, VT to visit our other best friend, Tracie. I am aware that having two 'best' friends negates the meaning of the word 'best.' I don't care.

My father, in a pretty impressive precedent he set when my mother was appalled at hearing kids talk about parties with alcohol at them during orientation weekend with his shrug and response, 'Rushie, she's at college,' basically said, 'Fine,' but gave me no direction on how I would achieve such lofty goals as Buying a Plane Ticket and Mapping My Route. Also, it must be said, my parents thought I was insane to fly all the way home from Detroit, only to get in the car and drive an hour and a half to New Hampshire and then a couple more hours to Vermont, and then repeat again a day later so I could get back to school. But to their credit they let me. I Was In College, after all.

Well, the day came to fly home and I was excited. I packed my bags and made arrangements with the mythical campus shuttle that would pick you up and take you to the airport. When the time came, I dragged my bag outside my dorm and up to the appointed shuttle pick up area. Except, the shuttle never came.

Minutes ticked by, and I got more and more nervous. I looked at my watch. Two hours to my flight. An hour and forty five minutes to my flight. And still no shuttle.

I had no idea what to do. I didn't have a number for a cab, and even if I did, in those pre-cell phone days, I would have had to drag my heavy bag all the way back down the hill and into the dorm room and lose the precious minutes that I needed to get me to the airport on time. I doubt I had enough money on me for a cab, anyway.

As it became clear I was going to miss my flight, I just fell apart and sat down on my bag and started to cry. Unbelievably luckily for me, some girls who were driving home for the weekend saw me and took pity. They had no idea who I was, but they offered to go out of their way and drop me off at the airport.

Well, you didn't have to ask me twice. I leaped into their car, wiped my tears away, and made my flight. When I got back to school that Monday, I proudly posted the map I'd used to navigate from my parents' house to UNH and St. Michael's College and back, on the back of our door, with the route highlighted and the proud caption, Heather's First Road Trip.

I'm sure I thanked those girls in the car, but I may never shake the feeling that I didn't get to thank them enough. I still have no idea who they were, just some nice girls who saw someone in need. And I know there is zero percent chance you're reading this right now, but I wish you were. Because if you were, girls, I would like you to know that I'm sure it was a small, little thing to you, but it was a big thing to me. And I still thank you.

Sixteen years later (oh my God, did I really just say that?), I'm sitting here in my basement in LA typing away. It is weirdly cold and gray out, and rain is forecast for the next three days. The weather here has been ridiculous. Ridiculous by LA standards, that is, which is still pretty cushy for the rest of the universe. But as a good Angeleno, I am appalled. Two weeks ago we were still having another 100-degree heatwave, and now I am stalwartly resisting the increasingly strong urge to put on the heat. I know better people than I have already caved.

The good news is, this Columbus Day weekend, I spent a bunch of the time stocking up on some recipes for you guys, so I will have plenty to roll out this week. Number one on the list is Nancy Strickland's Scallops Florentine. You may recall her from the Cheese Puffy Bubbly recipe from the Breakfast section. You may also recall from that entry that I mentioned Nancy is the source of my favorite lasagna recipe, which I use all the time. In short, it seems Nancy Strickland is a woman with a healthy appreciation for anything you can make in a giant casserole dish.

The Stricklands have a house on Cape Cod where they spend most summers. As such, I trust her opinion on shellfish recipes; they are quite the nautical, sea-air type bunch. Reverend Strickland says that she got this recipe from Father Jack of Our Lady of the Assumption Church, i.e. the catholic church on my side of town. I figure they know their large, yummy, Italian-type recipes. Add that all together and my hopes were high.

I went to the store and dropped a small fortune on scallops (shellfish just isn't as affordable in LA as it is in New England waters), and then went home to try to convince the spinach to thaw. Which it turns out, is harder than you'd expect when the weather isn't 100 degrees out. But around 6 or so Josh, who had been sweating away in the attic trying to install a ceiling fan in the guest room (oh it will look so good!), came to me, face awash with desperation, and said, 'When is dinner?!'

Well, the handyman gets what the handyman wants, so I decided to figure out how to thaw frozen spinach. The instructions on the package don't say much about thawing, just cooking, so I ignored them and threw the spinach in a giant bowl and microwaved the shit out of it until it was no longer a solid block. Seemed like a good theory.

The actual casserole construction is very simple. In my experience, Reverend Strickland's recipes make total sense to me so I have no trouble following them, putting them together, etc. They are easy and straightforward, and relatively Heather-proof.

Forty-five minutes later we happily hoovered up our Scallops Florentine over a glass of wine and an episode of Mad Men (we're on Season Two right now - so no spoilers, y'all). The finished product was a little bit less exciting than I'd expected -- the cheese not quite as cheesy and the spinach a little blah, which may be a result of my going off book with the whole thawing scenario.

In fact, the whole thing would probably benefit from a nice dousing of lemon, which I will surely try on the leftovers. I am also wondering if using fresh spinach in lieu of frozen would make me happier? I thought about that yesterday, too, but given the volume of spinach needed compared to the inadequate size of my food processor, I just couldn't face the hassle and mess. Also, I am wondering if I would like it better if I used Italian style cheeses (Parmesan, Mozzarella, Asiago) in lieu of the Monterey Jack/Mexican mix it called for, as for me what it was lacking was the salty cheesiness I love. That's the Italian cheeses, right? And the Mexican ones are milder?

I have no idea what I'm saying.

Nancy Strickland, a woman who truly appreciates the casserole dish

Nancy Strickland's Columbus Day Scallops Florentine

1 stick butter or maragine
3 pkgs frozen chopped spinach (thawed, cooked, and drained)*
3 cups shredded Monterey Jack cheese (or Mexican mix, because the grocery curiously does not have just plain old Monterey Jack)**
2-3 lbs sea scallops
2 cups Italian bread crumbs
2 tbsp garlic powder

Melt butter in large frying pan over low heat. Ignore that you are melting an entire stick of butter and tell yourself it's okay because it's for a huge casserole for 10 people. Add bread crumbs and mix until a paste forms. I think, as I learned during Artichoke and Shrimp Casserole, this may be called a 'roux.' Set aside from heat.

Add garlic powder and mix. Defrost spinach, only to discover afterward that you were also supposed to cook it and you probably should have followed the cooking instructions. Oops.

In large casserole dish, begin layering with the following:
1st layer - sprinkle half of (wet, clumpy) spinach
2nd layer - spread half of scallops (do scallops really 'spread' or do they more 'plop'?)
3rd layer - sprinkle half of various cheeses (now there you go, various)

Spread half of paste mixture, which is more like sprinkling because it's really just sort-of moist breadcrumbs. Repeat layers as above.

Preheat oven to 375 degrees and bake for 45 minutes. Enjoy!

*Maybe fresh instead? I have no idea how much this would be if it were fresh.
**Maybe Parmesan, Mozzarella, Romano and Asiago instead?

Roast Pork Tenderloin with Bing Cherry Glaze

2009-10-10T09:47:00.001-07:00

I have not had the most fantastic week. It's not like sock-you-in-the-gut-with-shock terrible, more the slow and steady unpleasant death of hope. Or at least illness of hope. Hope has gone to bed with the swine flu. Maybe Obama will come by and help it recover.

The primary suspect in this week's displeasure is the Nicholl Fellowships. For those of you not in the 'I Want To Be A Screenwriter' business, the Nicholl is a competition put on by the Academy (i.e. AMPAS, i.e. the people who do the Oscars) for up-and-coming screenwriters. The winners get a big fellowship (enough to live on while they write more), but the big reward is the doors it opens. Instead of trying to persuade some assistant that they might want to read your script, the agents/managers/producers/whatevs call you and ask for it. Not so bad.

In short, the Nicholl is easily THE most prestigious screenwriting competition out there for those of us who aren't earning our living at it yet. As one of my teachers @ UCLA extension said to me, 'There's the Nicholl and then there's everything else.'

I discovered this first-hand when I placed in the quarterfinals of the Nicholl with my first screenplay a couple of years ago. Having no idea I'd applied to the end-all-be-all screenplay competition, when I got the congratulations letter in the mail I was like, 'Oh, that's nice,' and put it aside. A few months later my phone started ringing one day and my email inbox filled up with 'Congratulations! Can I see your script?' inquiries.

Now of course, none of those inquiries panned out 100%, but there are several reasons behind that, including the fact that I was very green, had no other material, didn't live in LA, etc. But at the same time, as a somewhat indirect result of it I did wind up with a kickass job for a couple of years and moving to LA, amongst other things.

Fast forward to this year, where I've devoted all my post-layoff time to working on screenplays, teleplays, etc. - the reason we moved to LA in the first place. Megan and I hustled like maniacs to get our script done in time for the Nicholl deadline, and what do you know, we placed. Around 6500 scripts sent in, only about 300 made the quarterfinals, and we were in that cut. That's the top 5%, and we made that cut with a broad romantic comedy - in a competition that favors indie dramas. Not so bad.

Tracie, who was visiting from Boston the day I got the email saying we made it, can attest to the fact that I lost my mind. This time when the letter came I didn't toss it aside, I started crying. I called Megan screaming - and everyone else for that matter. I stopped everything, drove to the ghetto grocery, bought champagne, and made Tracie drink it with me. Because this time I lived in LA, this time I've actually taken classes on how to get ready for this sort of thing, this time I have other material coming out of my yin-yang (don't worry, I have a doctor's appointment to get that checked out).

Megan and I spent the intervening time honing our stuff. Making tiny tweaks to the script thanks to some great feedback from some smart friends, getting our logline perfect, doing our treatment, and coming up with other pitches for any meetings we would get. I like to call that 'The Month of September.'

We knew the list would come out in October sometime, but there's no hard and fast date. Just when they're ready. Then Thursday it hit, and the first email arrived. 'Congratulations on making it into the quarterfinals of the Nicholl! I would love to read your script...'

'Here we go!' I told Megan. And then: nothing. I checked our joint email account set up for this purpose to make sure it was forwarding things appropriately. It was. There was just nothing to forward.

I watched, I watched, I watched and the pot (predictably?) would not boil. Perhaps I am being slightly dramatic, we have certainly gotten a couple of emails, but the difference between this year and my previous Nicholl experience is very palpable. Where before there was a deluge, now there is a drip. Before my contact info made it clear I lived in Chicago, and in this industry you are immediately 1000 times less appealing if you don't live in LA or NY. Now the contact info is clearly LA; I thought for sure this would increase the number of calls. I was: wrong.

Is it the title? Would more people have called were our script called Tits, Tits and More Tits? Probably. Is it the economy? My industry friends think it is the economy -- studios are firing people, cutting back on the number of movies they release per year, and everyone is more afraid than ever to take a risk.

Whatever it is, I suppose it doesn't really matter because either way I'm pissed. Or disheartened. Or whatever. I will say that the people who have contacted us are quite good ones, and that is extremely comforting. And all we need is one of them to like it/us/whatever. But still, in my mind, the more people who call, the better our chances.

I was supposed to make my Recipe Book dinner (you were wondering what this saga had to do with the Recipe Book, weren't you?), but the lack of inquiries had me down. I asked Josh to bring me home some food so I could sit on the sofa and pout. Like I said, things could be worse. No one's dead. The boys are all healthy. And I can get off my butt and do some hustling on my own. Still, I can't help but be pretty disappointed.

By last night I had started to get over myself, though, so I ventured into the ignored recipe: Roast Pork Tenderloin with Bing Cherry Glaze from my beloved old roommate Jane (she of the Spinach Dip). There's a note on this recipe, which tells me that I made it once before because it must have looked appealing. My note says, 'Good' and also 'Put in sauce as soon as it's ready, 170 final temp (ready to eat).' The first part is self-explanatory, the second I have no idea what I was trying to tell myself. Which is too bad, because obviously I felt like I needed to know something.

Basically this appears to be a pork roast with cherry glaze recipe, a la those hams with pineapple that they love to show in grocery store circulars. Somehow I didn't realize this when I went to the grocery store, that by 'tenderloin' Jane meant 'roast'. So I stared at all the various pork possibilities (pork strips, pork chop), and, seeing nothing that said 'tenderloin' went for a couple of boneless pork loin whatevers, which I'm sure wasn't really a big deal - I mean it's fundamentally pork avec cherry glaze, it's not like I'm putting meat in an ice cream cake as a substitute for chocolate sauce. But still, it was pretty challenging to jimmy the thermometer into a tiny pork slab, especially since our thermometer is kind of broken and when I pull it out it leaves its meat-protective metal tip in the pork, which I then forget about and either serve to someone as is ('Why does this pork come with metal in the middle?') or explode in the microwave when I heat the next day. Either way, lose-lose.

Thermometer negotiations aside, Jane's pork & glaze recipe is very easy, although I will say I seem to have been a bigger fan the first time. This time I thought the clove seemed a little overwhelming (Josh thought the cherry was a little overwhelming). Maybe that's just the taste of disappointment. Anyhow, I don't know what I did different from before as my note to myself was in Martian, but I'm betting I could do something smart like 'Use less cloves' or 'Not put as much glaze on' and then everyone would be happy.

As for me, I have to go upstairs and try to hack the dried cherry glaze off the roasting pan with a chisel and/or blowtorch because I kindly left it to set in the sink for myself over night (Note to readers: I do not recommend this). Then I will concoct a voodoo doll to pray to to make one of the producers looking at our script like it.

Oh, the husband-photographer who always thinks I look great
when I clearly do not. When will I learn to put on make up?

Jane's Crappy Week Consolation Roast Pork Tenderloin with Bing Cherry Glaze

2 pork tenderloins (i.e. roasts?)

Glaze:
10 oz bing cherry preserves
2 tbsp light corn syrup
1/4 tsp cinnamon
1/4 cup toasted slivered almonds
1/4 cup red wine vinegar
1/2 tsp ground cloves (maybe not so much?)

1/4 tsp salt
1/4 tsp pepper

Go to ghetto grocery. Stare at wall of preserves, being utterly unable to find bing cherry preserves at all. Find cherry preserves and not in the prescribed size. Decide, this will have to do.

Rub tenderloin with salt and pepper. Roast uncoverd in a pan at 325 degrees approximately 25 minutes per pound (what?) or until an internal temperature of 170 degrees is reached (yes). Misread the instructions and just set the clock for 25 minutes, but figure since you're using the thin slabs of pork with your Macguyvered-in half-broken thermometer that you should check it often. Thank God.

In a sauce pan, combine all other ingredients except the almonds, which you smartly put into the toaster so as to achieve the 'toasted' part. NEARLY forget you have decided to double all the ingredients to match the cherry preserves that are just about double the size Jane specified, but remember and do it. PHEW. This makes extra sense because you are using 4 pork loins (or whatevers) instead of 2.

Cook and stir to boil, thinking, 'Good Jesus this cherry smell is strong/gross,' and 'Boy I wish I had been able to find the right type of cherry preserves.' Reduce heat and simmer 2 minutes.

Add almonds and spoon sauce over roast (aha! roast!!); continue cooking 30 minutes more. Hope that that number still stands given the thin-ness of your pork whatevers. Baste every 15 minutes. Slice (um, no) and serve with remaining sauce. Realize that if you'd used giant roasts, the glaze probably wouldn't have been over-abundant and therefore not as overwhelming. Oh well.

Jane note: This glaze also works well with turkey; use apricot preserves instead of bing cherry preserves.

Heather note: Hmmm. Sounds good.

Southwest White Chili

2009-10-07T14:47:00.000-07:00

I have a confession to make. I cheated. Two weeks ago when I made Jeff & Brigid's Peanut Butter Chicken I was really supposed to make Sue Haug's Southwest White Chili. But between all the meat I'd been making, including Sarah Pascarella's admittedly awesome Black Bean Lime Chili not three days before, I just couldn't face yet another pot of flesh and beans. And as I'd just broken things up with Tilzer's Pumpkin Bread and had some other cakey-dessert-y thing going bad in the fridge, I couldn't really rationalize the making another sweet under the 'intermixing is okay' rule.

So I broke my rule. I skipped a recipe, and not because I had a vegetarian or something coming to dinner. I just couldn't do it. So I jumped ahead to the next un-chili item, the Peanut Butter Chicken. I am a bad, bad girl. But damn it, it had to be done. And I would do it again.

I have since recovered. I spent last week repenting by eating the kitchen-full of leftovers from the Yom Kippur break-the-fast dinner I made for Sean, Bekah, Josh and me (delicious traditional family recipes, which included the beloved Ellie Baker's Knishes, but no new Recipe Book items). Then we went to Washington for Josh's cousin's wedding (awesome), which included plenty of restaurant food.

So now I'm purged and ready. Last night upon our return I hit the ghetto grocery in preparation for what I pray to the sweet little baby Jesus is my very last chili of the book, Sue Haug's Southwest White Chili. Sue is a Huntington family friend from way back and the current head of the music school at Penn State, if you want to get fancy and impressive about it. What with her having been an Iowan for many a year, one could reasonably expect her chili would be hearty. That, and it's chili.

After all the chili and variations on the chili theme I've made for the Recipe Book, what strikes me at this point is how different they all are. Dorothy Lewis's Vegetarian Chili is pretty traditional - red, soup, a slew of different beans, beer, and a million other ingredients. It basically says, 'Serve me in a Tex Mex restaurant with cheese & sour cream.' Sarah P's Black Bean Lime Chili was different - dark, more like meat in a sauce, served on couscous, and a more atypical flavor. Sue's Southwest White Chili is another variation - with chicken instead of meat, white beans instead of a mixture, it is indeed a pretty light colored chili. Like Sarah's it is less soupy (was it supposed to be?), but like Dorothy's it was served in a bowl like a soup and not a saucy meat.

I think of the three, my favorite was Sarah's (no dis to the Iowans). Josh, of course, loved Sue's chili and cleared his bowl right up. All I know is there is way more variation in chili than I ever realized before this project, which is pretty cool. Mostly, though, I'm just hoping this is the last one for a while. After all, man cannot live on chili alone.

Welcome home

Sue Haug's Last But Not Least Southwest White Chili

1 tbsp olive oil
1 lb boneless chicken breast
1/4 cup chopped onion (Or, you know, one onion. Whatevs.)*
4 oz can chopped green chiles (Or something like that, since you accidentally bought the 7 oz can and you were just eyeballing 'half-ish'.)
1 tsp garlic powder (Or use real garlic and cook w/ chicken)
1 tsp ground cumin
1/2 tsp oregano and 1/2 tsp cilantro
1/4 tsp ground red pepper
19 oz can or jar undrained white kidney beans (cannellini)
shredded Monterey Jack cheese
sliced green onions

Pull bag of uncooked chicken breasts left over from previous recipe out of freezer. Wonder exactly how much chicken is in here, but decided not to bother figuring it out. Hell, it's close enough to 1 lb. Defrost.

Heat olive oil in 3 qt saucepan (or usual thick cast-iron chili pot) over medium heat. Add chicken. Realize you probably used high heat, which might be why all the olive oil burned up and the chicken started to stick to the pot. Cook 4-5 minutes, stirring often. Remove chicken with slotted spoon, cover, and keep warm. Or just dump in bowl and not worry about it; it's going back in anyway and it will warm up then.

Add chopped onions, chiles, garlic, cumin, oregano, cilantro and red pepper. Rue the fact that you aren't using your fresh oregano from the garden because you no longer have fresh oregano from your garden because some evil raccoon/skunk/possum/whatever dug up your entire herb garden while you were in Monterey two weekends ago and it's now just a fenced off pile of dirt. Asshole wild animals.

Simmer for 30 minutes. Or 10 minutes at which point you confirm that everything is burning up, despite the fact that you added more oil to the pot. Stir in cooked chicken and beans and simmer for 10 minutes, or rather more like 20 minutes to split the difference. People are all over the place with how long they simmer chili anyhow.

Serve - with garnish of cheese and green onions.

Sue notes: I never make a single batch, because it's great the second and third day - if it lasts that long. Come home from work, put this on to cook, then sit down with a drink and rela, knowing that you'll have a great dinner.

*Chopping method: Mike Milch's + SqueakyKitty's, which sadly didn't work as well this time because you used a sort of old half of lemon that you'd saved in the fridge in a ziploc bag and had started to dry up. Turns out that the fresh lemon juice is pretty crucial.

Beef Brisket

2009-09-29T10:48:00.000-07:00

A disturbing thing happened last week. I was getting ready to make the Beef Brisket/Pot Roast recipe given to me by my parents' friends Karen and Mike Davis when a thought washed over me. And that thought was, 'This handwriting looks an awful lot like the handwriting on the Cheesy Poof recipe.'

This might not immediately seem ominous to you, so let me explain. The Cheesy Poof recipe is the cherished hot cheese puff recipe handed down to me through the family and which originated with my very sweet, culinarily gifted, and now passed on Great Aunt Ellen. I used to love those things at family events when she brought them, and when she died a few years ago I thought the recipe went with her to her grave. Then the recipe showed up in the Recipe Book as a miraculous Hail Mary from the beyond via my cousin Justin (Ellen's grandson) and his wife, Karen.

Davis.

Yes, that is right. There were two Karen Davises invited to the wedding, and both of them contributed to the Recipe Book. You know where this is going now, don't you?

'Oh no,' I thought. I quickly did a skim through the Recipe Book. You see, the Karen Davis who contributed the Cheesy Poof recipe has some pretty distinctive handwriting.

Exhibit A

Unfortunately, it's not the same handwriting as that which appears on the Tortellini recipe from my cousin Karen with her return address stuck on the page.

Uh-oh

However, it does look an awful lot like the handwriting for the Pot Roast recipe from my parents' friend, which had her return address taped to it.

Crap

And just like that, my Aunt Ellen's recipe slipped back over the line to the beyond.

I was pretty bummed. Although truth be told, these Cheese Puffs are so close to Aunt Ellen's that I thought they were hers. So maybe it's the same recipe? Either way, they remind me enough of hers that I'm declaring them the same. Plus, now I know that my parents' friend Karen is a kick ass cook. So there's that.

I know that Parents' Friend Karen is a kick ass cook because in addition to her killer Cheesy Poofs, I made her Pot Roast last week. We were having a mini Iowa reunion on Friday night -- Josh's friend Mark was passing through town on his way down to Mission Viejo for a triathlon, and our other two good Ames friends who happen to live in the area, Judd and Cassie, came by for dinner and Rock Band. Mark is am amazing triathlete, and when I say this I mean only the top triathletes (one per gender) from their state qualify for this Mission Viejo race (translation: Mark is the best male triathlete in all of Wisconsin) and he recently also became the best ranked male triathlete in the nation for his age range. In short, Mark weighs 12 pounds and is very fast.

He and Josh have been friends since maybe around the first grade, so he's a very easy, very fun house guest to have. And then you bring Judd and Cassie over, and these four have known each other for over two decades. Nonetheless, I never feel even the slightest like an interloper, which I guess is Iowa hospitality at its finest. They are sweet and fun and funny. We alternated between pumping quiet Mark for personal information and trying to convince him he should try out for the Olympics and then headed downstairs for a pretty amusing round of Rock Band.

In between, I fed everyone Parents' Friend Karen's Pot Roast. I had extremely low expectations for the Pot Roast. I say this because I do not like Pot Roast. I never have. It falls squarely (albeit under the name of 'brisket') onto the list of Jewish foods I sacrilegiously dislike. In fact, I saved it for this night so that with the others there at least someone would eat it -- because I knew I sure as hell wasn't going to.

Pros: Pot Roast is ridiculously fast and easy to make. Buy giant slab of beef. Slop slab of beef in pan. Cut up carrots & potatoes and chuck them in pan, too. Put in oven for a few hours. The end.

Cons: It gets very well done and tends to have the texture (and flavor) of a wet, leathery shoe.

However, I wasn't wagering on Parents' Friend Karen's sauce that went atop said Pot Roast, which it turns out, was transformative. As was the fact that she gave the option to cook it for between three and four hours, so I took it out after three which made it less shoe and more beef.

What I'm saying here is: I ate it. Not only did I eat it, I asked for more.

Unfortunately, taking it out after three hours did not properly service the carrots & potatoes, which were underdone - to say the least. God bless the Iowans, they all ate them anyhow, but the potatoes and carrots were simply not cooked. For the carrots that's okay, but for the potatoes...well, I have good friends is all I can say. Good friends who love me so much they eat my raw potatoes and say thank you and tell me they were tasty.

Oh, and of course, Mark won the Mission Viejo race. Are you honestly surprised?

Admit it. This looks pretty bad ass.

Parents' Friend Karen Davis's Beef Brisket (aka Pot Roast)

1 pkg onion soup mix (Lipton's, y'all)
1 8 oz can tomato sauce
1 can whole cranberry sauce
water
3 lbs brisket
red bliss potatoes - half or quartered
1 bag carrots (presumably peeled and cut, and you know, sans the bag part)

Mix onion soup, tomato sauce, 1-2 cans water, cranberry sauce together. Wonder, 'By "cans of water" does she mean the 8 oz tomato sauce cans or the 15 oz cranberry sauce cans?' Just fill up one of them most of the way twice and hope for the best.

Put brisket in a disposable deep pan. Or be environmentally friendly and use your non-disposable roaster pan because it is attractive AND doesn't need to wind up in a trash dump. You are amazing.

Add potatoes and carrots. Assume that by this Karen means, 'Cut the potatoes in half or quarters, leaving on the skin, but cutting out any eyes if you see them. Then peel and cut the carrots into loving chunks. Feed a few to the dog while you're at it. Put rest in the pan with the brisket.'

Pour mixture over. Cover with tin foil. Bake 3-4 hours at 300 degrees. Cool in refrigerator and cut the next day. Reheat. Or screw that, and serve it as soon as it comes out of the oven.

Discover that after 3 hours, the Pot Roast is done perfectly, nowhere near as terrible as usual. And the sauce is absolutely delightful--tangy and fantastic. The carrots & potatoes, however, are nowhere near done. Have no idea why this is (too many carrots & potatoes in the pan?) or how to remedy it. Is the choice one between overdone meat and underdone veg? Would changing the temperature of the oven make a difference? I have no idea.

Parents' Friend Karen Note: This is good for a week. Slice thin. Can be reheated again and again. Vary as you see fit.

Peanut Butter Chicken

2009-09-25T10:53:00.000-07:00

The other night Josh and I were having dinner and he asked me a question. 'Now that you're about 2/3s of the way through this thing, do you feel like you have any more appreciation for simple recipes?' To which my answer was a surprised, but unqualified, 'Yes.'

Josh's theory is that an easy recipe potentially represents more work and thought -- to get the biggest result from the least effort -- than complicated ones. For me -- and the reason why I was surprised -- is that this is a complete reversal of my pre-Recipe Book self. I used to think that a recipe had to be complicated to make it worthwhile. Where's the skill in it if it's easy? How is in impressive without all the slaving?

But after all these months of cooking a lot more, I feel completely different. The more time you spend in the kitchen, the more you value something that takes less time/effort to produce a tasty result. And frankly, it's all about the tasty result.

One such easy recipe is Peanut Butter Chicken, given by my friends Jeff & Brigid, former coworkers from my advertising days. It's another 'great cold weather dish' as Brigid puts it, which maybe isn't so divine for yet another 100-degree Santa Ana-induced heatwave. But that's the perils of a Recipe Book put together for a winter wedding for you.

Peanut Butter Chicken obviously sounds terrible and odd - so much so that Brigid put the note 'don't knock it 'till you tried it' along with the recipe. On second thought, then, it sounds like chicken satay, doesn't it? Too bad I don't much like chicken satay.

Are you honestly surprised?

Regardless, this was delightfully simple to make. Not much time, not much ingredients. You get to kick back for 45 minutes while it simmers. And Josh loved it, awarding it the gleefully delivered 'I hated it' proclamation saved for meals he loves so much he cleans his plate in record time. He learned this declaration from my family, and, being the good Unitarian that he is, was originally very alarmed by it. But after years of us harassing him, he now absolutely loves telling anyone who will listen how much he hated something that he cleared adored. You should see him beaming at waiters who come to clear his empty plates. 'Hated it! It was terrible!' Grin, grin, grin. 'Could I get seconds?'

I think if you're a chicken satay sort of person, this is going to make you very, very happy, possibly inducing the potentially not-so-charming, 'Mine's better!' remark with which I often burst forth at sushi restaurants after eating their sunomono. Too bad my sunomono recipe (from Josh's coworker Emma) wasn't in my recipe book. To die for. And sooooo easy.....

House-guest Olie, thinking he should get a plate

Jeff & Brigid's Better-Than-It-Sounds-and-Oh-so-Simple Peanut Butter Chicken (aka Chicken Satay)

2 tbsp peanut butter
1/4 cup soy sauce
1/2 tsp sugar
enough water to increase sauce (!!??)
1 lb chicken
white onion (1 lg)*

Broil cut up chicken for about 10 minutes on each side. Think to self, 'Self? How have I lived here this long without a proper broiling pan?' Make do with baking sheet lined with tin foil. Also think to self, 'Self? Your mother was making things up when she told you the house would explode if you left the oven door shut when it was on broil, wasn't she?' Respond, 'Yes, self, she was.'

In a pan, chop and brown the onion in olive oil. In a pot, mix together rest of ingredients. Try not to panic about the unspecific 'as much water as you need to increase sauce' direction, which is enough to make your head explode.

Add in onion and chicken. Let stew for about 45 minutes on low heat. Return to check on it after about 20 minutes and discover the sauce is drying up and things are starting to stick to the pot. Put in random amount more water to remedy this. Ooooh, this is what she meant.

Brigid note: I usually double sauce recipe for extra gravy, and serve this with rice and peas for a great cold weather meal.

Heather note: Point taken. Rice & peas. Yes m'am.

*Chopping method: Mike Milch + Squeakykitty combo, which I swear is getting better the more confidence it builds. I didn't even think about tearing up. Marvelous.

Pumpkin Bread

2009-09-23T13:58:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was Unexpected Battle Day at Casa Huntington. I was having a lovely day playing catch up on all the stuff I couldn't do while I was away last week, when I noticed an odd charge on my credit card statement. Long story short, Hotels.com (through whom I'd booked our hotel room in Monterey) thought it would be fun to screw me. I can't say as I blame them. I do have pretty bodacious cans.

Originally we'd booked three nights, but when I decided to go to Big Bear I changed it to two. Unfortunately, it appears I did this within the penalty period for changing my reservation and that particular hotel enjoys making you pay a one night charge as a penalty (which, I'm aware, makes canceling that one night moot). That sucks, but isn't Hotels.com's fault.

What is their fault is that while their receipt explains the possibility of the penalty period/fee situation, it apparently does not think it should factor that sum into the total. So I got a receipt from them--when I changed the reservation, mind you--giving me my new total--let's call it X--for my hotel stay. But then a week later discovered on my credit card they'd actually charged me around twice that amount (that's ~ 2X, for you algebra nerds out there).

When I called to have them explain this, they gave the 'I'm sorry, but I'm a stalwart asshole and I'm not interested in fixing this problem for you' routine. And also the, 'I'm offshore and don't speak English very well' routine, which is really, well it's just the ultimate in customer service, I find. So every time I said, 'Yes, I understand that the receipt explains the penalty policy, but the total you are showing me on that same receipt doesn't reflect that amount, i.e. I agreed to pay one thing and you decided to charge me way above the agreed upon and stated fee,' they responded with 'Blank stare,' and also 'Crickets.'

I was not amused. I spent the rest of the afternoon drafting angry letters to the Better Business Bureau, Hotels.com's customer service department, and having my credit card company dispute the charges. This was not how I was hoping to spend my day.*

What's more, it wasn't much better on Josh's end. He spent his day in union negotiations, which, well let's just say they were rough and leave it at that. He came home looking kind of like a beat up, wrung out zombie, poor guy. I decided to cheer us up with a little Pumpkin Bread courtesy of Tilzer.

Tilzer sent me his mom's Pumpkin Bread recipe along with the unintentionally rindy Lemon Squares (I am looking forward to making them again once the Recipe Book is done, this time with just the zest and not the whole rind--this is what happens when you aren't careful with your grammar, people). That is, they were part of the late entry regulations, so they didn't get made during the bread section. Deal with it.

In nothing short of a miracle, I had every single ingredient this recipe called for in the house. No grocery store run necessary! Not only that, but all you have to do is dump said ingredients all into the mixer at once, mix it, and then pour into loaf pans and bake. It had to be kismet.

Josh was firing up the grill for dinner at the same time as I was doing the Pumpkin Bread, so we kept bumping into each other in the kitchen. But aside from two grumpy Huntingtons trying to share not that tight of quarters, this recipe came off without a hitch.

Furthermore, it's goddamn good. Tilzer says he bakes these in the fall and gives them to people as presents, and I can see that making total sense. Wait, wasn't yesterday the first day of fall? KISMET I tell you. Kismet!

The bread was lovely. It turned out moist and tasty like you wouldn't believe, and in my world perfect for breakfast. Josh brought a loaf to work, where it was received with accolades like 'delicious' and 'better than the Starbucks pumpkin bread' (a serious compliment vis-a-vis me, considering that I live in constant admiration of their Madeleines). AND when I carved around the edges and then upended it to knock it out of the tins it did not break into a million pieces. Oh, I am starting to appreciate the structural integrity of loaves, yes I am indeed.

The Breakfast of Champions

Tilzer's Temper-Tantrum Curing Pumpkin Bread

3 cups sugar (mostly white, although you top it off with raw sugar when you run out. note to self: get more white sugar)
1 cup cooking oil (olive, as you are almost out of canola)
4 eggs (plus some shell, natch)
2 cups cooked pumpkin, canned (please see Pumpkin Gooey Butter Cake if you are wondering why I just so happen to have lots of canned pumpkin in the house)
2/3 cup water
1 1/2 tsp salt (Kosher!)
1 tsp cinnamon
1 tsp nutmeg
3 1/2 cups sifted flour (minus the one ant that snuck in there and froze to death when I put the counter tins into the freezer to protect against last week's ant insurgency)
2 tsp baking soda
1/2 cup nuts, optional (almond slivers)

Combine all ingredients and mix in an electric mixer (read that Mixmaster, not hand mixer). Realize you didn't pay attention and dumped in 1 cup of water instead of 2/3s. Debate trying to scoop some water out, but realize it's already mixing with the oil...and eggs...and sugar...and...well, you're fucked. Hope it doesn't make that big of a difference. It doesn't.

Think, 'Hmm, I see cinnamon and nutmeg used together very often. Especially in recipes that use pumpkin.' Think, 'This much be some sort of alchemical "brings out the woody nut-ness of the pumpkin" or something,' Then think, 'I wonder why the DVR didn't record Family Guy this week.'

Mix until smooth. Divide batter into 3 small loaf pans (yes) or 2 large pans (no). Wonder, 'Should I grease the pans?' but decide against it as it doesn't say to grease them. Hope for the best.

Bake one hour @ 350 degrees or until done (when knife or toothpick--or chopstick. How come I'm the only one who uses a chopstick?--comes out clean). Bread freezes well.

Conclude morals of the story, which are:
1. Hotels.com sucks. Don't use them. Their customer service is abominable and the business ethics are shady, to say the least.
2. Citibank doesn't. Surprise!
3. Pumpkin Bread will cheer you up.
4. The end.

*Side note: The credit card company (Citibank, for those of you keeping score), was magnificent. No fuss, no muss, took me at my word, and is disputing the charge for me. It was a three minute phone call, tops.

Black Bean LIme Chili

2009-09-22T10:43:00.000-07:00

Hello! I have returned! Did you miss me? I thought so.

As I mentioned before, Josh was in Tahoe for a conference, so we decided to make a Northern California weekend of it. I flew up to Sacramento (yay cheap Southwest flights!) where he picked me up en route to Monterey so we could ogle the aquarium. Josh is pretty nuts for jellyfish, but I had a nice time, so I should obviously just shut up.

Since we were going to Cannery Row and whatnot, I got a handful of Steinbeck books on CD to listen to in the car to get in the mood. Then I remembered I am not a big Steinbeck fan and pouted until Josh let me eject them in favor of the new Chuck Palahniuk book (I am a subversive terrorist pygmy! bampow!). Despite this, I insisted we go to Salinas to the Steinbeck museum, which was crawling with slow, loud, old people evidently being wowed by the exhibits. I guess someone had to be; their shallow one-sided-ness made me angry. Which is interesting--what else would I expect at a museum for the guy?

We were actually going to go for longer, but I had to cut the trip short a day so I could get back in time to get to the Big Bear Film Festival and do some hustling with my script. My friend John is pretty amazing at being my make-believe manager and he introduced me to 4,000 people who would ask to read the script before they were done shaking my hand. Doesn't mean anything will happen, but a girl can dream. And it was still fun. Really fun.

Also, side note - in case you were wondering what my new slogan for Big Bear is, it's this: Big Bear, the New Hampshire of California.

Like it?

Anyhow, by Sunday, all the traveling, schmoozing, otter-gaping, high-altitude drinking, and returning from said high altitude in a car with shoddy brakes had gotten to me. By the time I got home, I laid around in a very cranky, pseudo-hungover state and tried not to be too bitchy to Josh (result: fail). By yesterday, however, I pulled myself together enough to get back on the Recipe Book train.

And what was on the menu last night? Why, chili, of course. Black Bean Lime Chili, to be exact. Not only do you people love to make me eat soup, you REALLY love to make me eat chili. I don't know what about me says, 'That girl needs a chili recipe,' but apparently it's something because this is like the 5th chili recipe in the book. Or second. Or 2.5th, if you count Jerry Knox's Hamburger & Beans, which is chili-esque. And I did a little flipping forward and found more. Dear, sweet Jesus, more.

Luckily, the Black Bean Lime Chili was from my delightful former coworker and fellow writer Sarah Pascarella, contributor of the lovely Tomato Bread Soup recipe. Knowing Sarah, and the previous recipe, I figured this would be a pretty tasty and high class-chili. I was not mistaken.

Which, I might add, is interesting because it is full with things I don't like (peppers, cilantro) or things that I don't mind, but wouldn't be sad if I never ate again (couscous, chicken). And yet you put it all together and voila, it turns out to be one of the nicest chili I have ever had. Okay, I can't say that because Josh would kill me (he loves making his chili), but still, it's seriously lovely. Easy to make, not too many ingredients and therefore not too much chopping, and it doesn't even take ages. Normally chili recipes tell you to let them simmer for a while; not this one. The lime gives it a really nice zing (translation: go light on the sour cream) and the chicken is even great--and this from a meat chili purist.

Of course Josh proclaimed it 'good.' I think it deserves a 'great,' but as I may have said before, Josh loves making his own chili, so I think he can be a little tough on the competition. He still took a nice picture of it, though.

Chili on a plate and not in a bowl? Yes. Yes. Yes.

Sarah's Return to Reality Black Bean Lime Chili

1 cup water
2/3 cup couscous
3 tbsp olive oil
1 vidalia onion, chopped*
3 cloves garlic, crushed
1 red bell pepper, chopped
1 green bell pepper, chopped
1 tbsp chili powder
1 14 oz can stewed tomatoes
1 15 oz can black beans
1 10 oz can white meat chicken, or 2 cups shredded chicken
1/2 cup fresh lime juice (about 3 normal-sized limes, or a thousand small [Persian? Key?] ones that we had)
1/4 cup fresh cilantro

Go to Trader Joe's because you think you can find all the ingredients there, which is not strictly true. Have to substitute yellow pepper for green and be unable to find the stewed tomatoes, which reduces you to making a second grocery store stop - at the now completely packed ghetto grocery. What a little new flooring will do for business.

Debate chopping everything first and doing the couscous last until you realize that A. this chili doesn't simmer for very long and B. the instructions start off with couscous-making. Give into the instructions.

Bring 1 cup water to a boil in a small saucepan and then pour the couscous in one steady stream. Stir to prevent lumps. Turn off the heat, cover, and set aside for 15 minutes once liquid is absorbed. Fluff with a fork. Either that, or follow the directions on the couscous box. Either way.

Having decided that canned chicken is an abomination, guesstimate how many little cutlets will result in ~ 2 cups of shredded chicken and cook them in oil in pan on stove. Then guesstimate how to 'shred,' which you decide involves sort of pulling it apart with the knife and some halfhearted cuts. Put aside.

In a heavy-bottomed pot, heat oil over medium heat. Add onion and cook until soft. Add garlic and cook for 1 minute. Add bell peppers and chili powder and cook for another minute.

Stir in tomatoes and black beans and their liquid. Bring all to a simmer for 5 minutes or until thickened. Or way longer because Leslie & Jonathan stop by to drop off Olie for a week of dog-sitting and you get distracted and figure, 'Hey, it's chili, it can simmer.' Until Josh goes in and starts announcing that the chili is burning and sticking to the pot and saving it (thank you Josh).

Add chicken and heat through. Juice enough limes to make you insane in the old '70s-esque hand juicer. Realize that you are a moron because you have 2 different-sized modern, easier squeezers as well as a proper large juicing press. You are an idiot.

Debate whether to chop the cilantro. Figure it's better than having tons of stems in. Halfheartedly chop cilantro leaves (see 'chicken shredding' above).

Stir in hard-won lime juice and cilantro and remove from heat. Serve over fluffed couscous. Be surprised at how well couscous and non-soupy chili go together. Reheat the rest for lunch the next day. Delight.

*Onion chopping method: Mike Milch + Squeaky Kitty = No tears. Yes!