Stir Crazy Days

This is my default outfit for the last week.  I told you I wasn't going to show it, but it's become so part of my every day life that it just didn't seem right to hold out on you any longer.  Though the mannish snow pants were strategically cropped from the picture.  Anyway, I've got another snow day from work tomorrow.  The freeway is closed.  My grandma in Wilsonville had to cancel her holiday travel plans to my mom's house, leaving both of them vastly disappointed.  My own trip (romantic getaway to Vancouver followed by a couple days visiting my sister Claire in Seattle),  scheduled for Wednesday, is starting to look dicey.  This weather is starting to be a bit of a bummer, my friends.  I keep telling myself it's really not that bad, but then when I think of Adam driving on the freeway at five o'clock tomorrow morning and I break into a cold sweat, I realize that I have been slightly kidding myself.

And to top it all off, we've been stuffing our gullets with carbs galore.  It must be that cold-phobic, nesting instinct kicking in full force because my meals have consisted of a multitude of flour- and lipid-based products; today alone we had pancakes, cheese and crackers, spaghetti, and cookies.  So by the time dinner rolled around, it was definitely time for something decent. 

Enter the vegetarian's friend, Seitan.  For those of you who have never heard of it, it's a form of wheat gluten that, like tofu, complements the flavors of whatever you cook it with.  Unlike tofu, it has a slightly tougher, chewier texture and in the words of Adam, "Mmm!  It takes like chicken!"  Sorta looks like it too:
After sauteing it with some onions, shallots, and garlic for a few minutes in olive and sesame oils, I added chopped kale and purple cabbage.  Pretty colors:
I popped a lid on the pan for 5 or 10 minutes so the veggies would steam themselves, and then stirred in a sauce consisting of the seitan's juices (reserved), some cornstarch dissolved in water, soy sauce, fish sauce, chili flakes, and pepper.  Served over rice with a splash of sesame seeds on top, it really turned into a "chicken" stir fry to write home about.  If the local postal service weren't shut down, that is.
P.S. I started a new infusion today.  I had all these lemons that I was going to bring to a meeting for work (as garnishes for sparkling water) but it was cancelled because of the weather.  Luckily I had a bit of vodka left and luckily I didn't know what the hell else to do with the lemons, and so in a few days I'll have a zinger of an alcoholic beverage to enjoy in front of the woodstove.  I added some sugar too, to see if I can make it taste like Limoncello.

Turkey Needs a Drink

Check out my latest science experiment: cranberry-infused vodka.  I spent a month fretting about those peaches, infusing and turning progressively browner with each day, and imagining that the whole thing would end up in the compost heap.  But last weekend I spent several hours filtering the stuff and once the peaches were dumped, the remaining spirits were clear and a lovely peach hue.  And more importantly, it tastes great!  Especially mixed with orange juice or lemonade.

So I started another small batch to share with my Thanksgiving company, this time with cranberries.  You know, in the holiday spirit and whatnot.  Check out the top photo, taken immediately after combining the alcohol with the crushed berries.  And the next photo is taken about five days later.  The vodka is a bright, zippy red and the cranberries look like maraschino cherries (yuck).  I added a little bit of simple syrup to this one, since cranberries are so sour.  I wonder what kinds of cocktails I should make with it.  Any suggestions?

Sipping Pretty

One of the great things about living in a small town is taking trips to the big city.  Last night I went to a French short film festival at the Portland Art Museum and then went out for a late-night artichoke and arugula dip at an old favorite, The Sapphire Hotel.  I was practically overdosing on culture after such a prolonged stretch without it.  Don't get me wrong: I love my orchards and countryside bike rides and killer farmer's markets.  It's just nice to get gussied up and stay out past 9pm every once in a while.

Last week, for example, I made the trip out to Portland and engaged in a nice, close examination of the fine art of cocktails.  And no better place to do research than at the Nuevo Latino-inspired Andina restaurant in the Pearl district.  And though Raina and I munched on Yucca croquettes dipped in three different kinds of salsa, and shrimp-salad-stuffed avocado halves, the snacks were really just there to accessorize the true purpose of our visit.  Mine, a cocktail I now daydream about at the end of a long workday at the rural community college, is called the Sacsayhuaman (sound it out).  It consists of habanero-infused vodka, passion-fruit
puree, cane sugar, a sugar rim, and a cilantro leaf garnish.  It's darn near perfect: spicy, sweet, tropical.  It's hard not to suck it down and order two more.

And here's Raina's: the Atardecer Porteno.  To quote from the menu, because I couldn't top this description: "pink quava nectar shaken with honey infused vodka and lime juice topped with a float of ruby port and a spritz of lime zest, served up with an anise sugar rim."  Whoa.  As you can see it looks like a sunset, which reminds me of the exact time of day I'd like it to be when I'm sitting on a cafe terrace in Rio de Janeiro, sipping on this very drink and happily regarding the Atlantic.

The Pear That Found Itself

Once upon a time there were two enormous Comice Pears.  Well, for that matter, there is a whole bag of them, but suspecting their ripeness, I only started with two.  I washed and sliced them in preparation for the next vodka infusion.  But as I sliced, my suspicions were confirmed-- they were too crisp, and not sweet enough.  And so I needed to think of another plan.    

I thought of my beloved radio show, The Splendid Table, and the advice given on it last week to a caller who had to figure out what to do with his bumper crop of pears.  The infinitely knowledgeable host Lynn Rosetto-Kaspar suggested a roast.  Sprinkle the sliced pears in olive oil, sugar, cinnamon, and rosemary (pestled to avoid crunch) and spread out in a casserole.  Roast in a hot (450) oven until brown, bubbly, and carmelized.  

The result was gorgeous, rich, and delicious.  But what to do with them?  Was I to eat them plain?  While eating one slice was decadent, I couldn't foresee that I wouldn't be wholly taking advantage of the flavors eating them unaccompanied.  And so I whipped up a coffee cake, the recipe for which belonged to my great-grandmother.  Instead of chopped walnuts or pecans for the topping, I toasted and chopped some almonds instead.  Also, in went the pears (chopped).

The cake, as you can see, is beautiful, and better yet, it tastes great.  The sweet, smoky roasted pears provide the perfect mushiness to counterbalance the crunchy nuts, and to moisten the dense cake.  I knew these pears were destined for something great-- and to think, I had planned for them something as lowly as vodka!  (The pears' brothers and sisters, however, still ripening in a bag on the counter, won't be so lucky.)

Day Two-- Infusions

Coming along nicely, eh?  The fruit is surrendering its color and life-force to the vodka in holy self-sacrifice, and meantime, the vodka is becoming a rich, peachy and, I hate to say it, Jolly Rancher-like color.  Maybe tonight I'll try some.  Lord knows, working at a community college during the first week of fall term, I'll need it.

Merry Peaches!

Well, the cat's out of the bag.  People, this is going to be your Christmas present.  I just couldn't keep it a secret!!  I had to chronicle it for the blog!  I can't help it, it's becoming an obsession, this blog!  I must describe in detail every culinary project I undertake.  So now you know, family and friends, you're getting infused vodka for Christmas.

While riding through orchards the other day and telling myself for the three thousandth time this summer that I really need to learn how to start canning soon, I tried to come up with some other way to preserve the heaven-sent fruit that comes from my area.  What are the ways to stave off bacteria?  I re-counted my options in my head: well there's lowering the temperature to bacteria-shunning levels.  But nobody wants a bag of frozen peaches, not to mention that by the time they arrive in the mail, they'd be a soggy, moldy mess.  There's drying.  This is not a bad idea at all, and I might well try this next year, especially because my co-worker gave me a great recipe for Peach Leather, where you puree your fruit and spread it in sheets and dry it in the sun.  And when it's done, you roll it up like a Fruit Rollup!  Yum.  Anyway, there's salting, like what people used to do with pork and bison on the ol' Western Frontier.  But salted peaches?  Uh, no.  Pickling and canning: yes, I do intend to teach myself that process.  Next summer.  And what does that leave?  Spirits!

So I followed some very simple directions found on the internet: I cleaned and sliced the LAST (I'm not kidding, the very last) peaches that Rasmussen Farms had to offer this year, dropped them in some cute old Mason Jars, and covered them with vodka.  Eh voila!  I'm going to give them four days and then we'll see what they taste like, so I'll keep you posted.  I'm also going to do some pears, who, unlike peaches, are right at the beginning of their season-- so much so I need to let mine ripen for a few days.  But I shall keep you apprised, as always, for the chronicle of infusions.