Not Pretty, But Pretty Darn Good

I need to save up for a better camera.  I made a delicious pasta dish tonight, and this photo makes it look rather less than appetizing.  I took nine shots of it, and this was the best I could come up with.  Granted, the primary ingredients were cauliflower and whole wheat pasta, so you might assert that, photo or no, it is unappetizing.  But trust me, it's damn good.  Check out this blog, Pink Bites, for the recipe.

The only difference from that recipe to this, was that I used four times as many onions (2, instead of the suggested 1/2), twice as much liquid or more (pasta water and white wine), and cilantro (instead of parsley).  However, Ms. Pink Bites' photos are ten times better than mine.  

Speaking of whole wheat pasta, Adam made an astute comment this evening while we scarfed our dinners.  Whole wheat pasta is like whole wheat bread.  You grow up (if you're an average American) preferring white bread.  When you take a bite of wheat bread, it's dense and unpleasant.  But then you grow to love it, and find white bread is actually pretty pathetic.  We're hoping that whole wheat pasta will become like wheat bread: an acquired taste.

Simple. Wonderful.

I feel like I've been trumpeting the glories of roasted vegetables pretty constantly lately, though I can't remember if I've been doing it on my blog, or just verbally to friends, co-workers, whoever is willing to listen.  So let me just praise the roasted vegetable one last time, because a roasted veg will turn a bland, basic meal into a nutritious feast.  See above photo.  Carrots and rice, basically.  How would you feel if you walked in the front door one evening, asked your beloved, "What's for dinner?" and got the response, "Carrots and rice"?  You might lobby to go out for sushi.

But if you hear "Roasted carrots," you'll probably have a seat at the table and tuck the napkin right into your collar.  If you don't recall, the secret to roasting is no secret at all.  Set the oven to 400, chop your veggies into comparably sized pieces, toss to coat thinly with olive oil, and season however you choose.  Remembering a dish from many years ago, I tried thyme and cinnamon on my carrots.  I found some leftover homemade pesto languishing in the freezer too, which went great mixed with wild rice (and felt significantly healthier than pasta).

I made a wonderful veggie roast the other night too, with fennel, a veggie I'd never used before.  The dish was absolutely delicious and was gone before photos could be captured.  So try these veggies in your first vegetable roast: fennel (green stalks discarded, and white bulb chopped), butternut squash, red potatoes, carrots, and garlic.  Do as I did.  Celebrate the winter cornucopia... before bidding it good riddance for the season.

Braised Be

An otherwise fabulous Alice Waters recipe instructed me to scatter this delectable braised cabbage and roasted potatoes in a circle around the halibut-- for some reason the highest organism on the food chain always gets featured front and center on a plate, with the afterthought veggies serving as a mere picture frame.  If I ever make this dish again, and I can assure you that I will, the cabbage will be shaped into a big heart in the middle of the plate, and the fish and potatoes will be served on a little saucer on the side.  What I mean to tell you is, this method of making cabbage is...  ...the only way to make cabbage.

Now I know what you're thinking!  Ew, cabbage.  Ew, stinky, sulfuric rabbit food.  But no!  Try this recipe.  You will be converted.  Take a head of green cabbage (the recipe called for Savoy Cabbage, which looks like green cabbage with a perm, but we're not that fancy in Hood River).  Cut the head into 2 inch wedges and pack them into a baking dish.  Oh yeah: turn the oven on to 400 while you're prepping.  Sprinkle the wedges with thyme, and tuck a bay leaf in there somewhere.  Pour over it all 1/2 cup of vegetable stock, and 1/2 cup of dry white wine.  Slice up to 3 Tbsp. of butter and dot the tops of the cabbage wedges.  Cover and bake for 30-45 minutes, until the cabbage is tender.  When cooled enough to work with, cut the core off of each wedge and discard, roughly chop the leaves, and return them to their juices in the baking dish.  Here is a shot just before going into the oven.  As is usually the case when something comes out amazing, I forgot to take an "after" shot.  Eh voila.  Cabbage for people who hate cabbage.
Oh, and if you want to make something good to go with your ambrosia-cabbage, you can douse a couple filets of halibut in some wine and veggie broth and roast 'em at 500 for a few minutes; and you can toss some quartered red potatoes in a bit of olive oil, salt, pepper, and maybe some rosemary or something before baking them covered or no for about a half hour at 400.  Or you can just save room for more cabbage.

Motley Meals

2009 has been a productive year so far, but in one respect only: food.  I've been making so much of it, I have to cram four different dishes into one blog post.  As for doing ANYTHING that involves going outside (and you'd be surprised by how much of our lives we conduct outside of our homes), there is nothing doing.  The roads are icy, it continues to snow every other day or so, and when it's not snowing, it's raining and leaving a very depressing slush on the ground.  Having hit the bottom of the barrel of my cabin fever yesterday I called a friend to see if she had any snowshoes I could borrow, and happily she did!  I took Cally out to the Post Canyon trail and had a blast-- I'm definitely getting me some snowshoes.  Our trip was cut short when a couple of yahoos started shooting a gun in my general direction, so I came home and made soup (see below).  When stuck or driven indoors by wayward firearms, make soup.  It seems like a good enough answer to the problems of life and winter.

Anyway, here are those shrimp I described in my last post.  The marinade was delicious, but I made the mistake I'm not going to make anymore of buying frozen shrimp.   I can never get frozen seafood to lose its fishy flavor upon cooking.  But here's the marinade.  I'm sure it would be good on any ol' fish or tofu.

1 garlic clove, chopped

1 bird's eye chili, deseeded (if you wish) and chopped

1 Tbsp. tamarind paste/concentrate

1 Tbsp. sesame oil

1 Tbsp. soy sauce

2 Tbsp. lime juice

1 Tbsp. brown sugar

Put the lot into a small saucepan and stir over low heat until the sugar melts.  Cool completely.  Marinate your food item of choice for as long as you can, even overnight.  Recipe from What's Cooking Thai.

Here is a beautiful batch of roasted cauliflower, the idea for which I took from Hilary Kooks.  It's super easy: chop a head of cauliflower into chunks and stir into it several cloves of chopped garlic, some chili powder, dried basil ("or other green herb," says Hil), s&p, a few Tbsp. sesame oil, and a couple Tbsp. tahini.  Spread out in a pyrex dish and roast at 375 for as long as an hour (I cranked it up to 400 for the last ten minutes).  It was good served over quinoa.
This is the best thing I've made recently: Brazilian Black Bean soup.  Inspired by the Moosewood recipe but much tampered with, it goes like this.  And I'm going to be quite general here, because the best soup will contain the ingredients and proportions that YOU like (I know, I know, Hilary is starting to rub off on me here).  

Soak 2 or 3 cups of black beans over night.  When you're ready to start cooking, put the beans (drained) with 4 or 6 cups of clean water to a boil in a big soup pot, then simmer and cover for an hour or hour and a half.  Your life partners will thank you for changing the water-- it reduces gassiness.  

Meanwhile, chop a BUNCH of onions-- three cups or so-- and a BUNCH of garlic-- I used about ten cloves, crushed.  I was weirded out to see the recipe call for that much garlic, but I'm glad I went with it.  Garlic=good.  Then chop a carrot or two.  Toss onions, carrots, and HALF the garlic to saute in evoo over medium heat until carrot is barely tender.  Stir in cumin, salt and pepper.  This'll need to season the whole pot of beans, so don't be shy.

Add the rest of the garlic, and a chopped red pepper and saute for another ten or fifteen minutes.  Scrape all the veggies into the beans.  Add a couple chopped tomatoes if you like.  Add a cup and a half of orange juice.  Simmer for as long as you can stand it.  Stir in some leftover quinoa or rice if you like-- this was my random idea, and an excellent choice if I say so myself.  Garnish with any combination of green onion, cilantro, cheddar, crumbled tortilla chips, hot sauce and/or sour cream.  Oh boy this was good, and it'll be even better today.
And lastly, oatmeal cinnamon waffles.  These were pretty good, but not good enough to share the recipe here.  Email me if you absolutely need the recipe.
Sorry for cramming so much food into so little space.  This blog is starting to look like my fridge.

The Improvisational Kook

So when you're fourteen and a freshman in high school and you're looking around at all the candidates for your life-long best friend, my advice is that you choose someone who is very creative and generous.  Trust me, it really pays off.  After many years of hard work, you can actually trick this person into thinking that you're worthy of her attentions, and she'll start to give you some incredible stuff.

As if walls full of art work, and several rad pieces of handmade or hand-silkscreened clothing were not enough, my well-chosen friend Hilary sent me this book for Christmas.  It is, as usual, handmade-- and when I say handmade, I mean bound and designed by HAND.  This ain't no gussied up storebought sketchbook.  Anyway, in the words of the author, here is the thesis of the creation:

A cookbook!  Or should I say Kookbook?  I have always enjoyed the syntax of Hilary's recipes-- I've got a few treasures from years past, and it's really fun to laugh while cooking at phrases like "splashies of tamari" and "lemon of 1 juice."  This book is no exception in the creative descriptions department, but it is also so so much more.  Look at these pages for example.
Beautiful!  In her characteristic style, she mixes and matches drawings and prints.  How appropriate that recipes are the newest addition to her amalgamation of media; if any of you have ever eaten something that Hilary has cooked, chances are you've swooned and asked, "What's IN this?"  But like any true creative, Hilary shuns precise measurements and instructions.
There are as few numbers and quantities as possible, which can be a bit unnerving for a Virgo cook like me.  But the principle is sound: she wants you to trust yourself and your ability to think of the meal as a balanced composition.  Why should some recipe-writer miles away from one's own town and life and tastes know any better how to assemble your dinner?

And so I started with two of the recipes and ran with them.  It's what Hilary would have wanted.  I made the "Marinated and Baked Tofu" (soy sauce, ginger, garlic, sesame and olive oils, pepper, chili flakes, lime juice-- that was my version, not Hil's) and cubed it up and threw it on top of "Taylor's Favorite Salad," which is now also Megan's Favorite Salad as well.  (Hilary, was this inspired by The Bangkok from Savor?)
It's a pretty basic salad-- lettuce, tomatoes, cukes, carrots, lots of cilantro, green onions, but it stands out in three ways.  One, the aforementioned tofu, especially if it's eaten while still warm.  Two, a lovely and spontaneous sweet and salty Asian-flavored salad dressing composed of orange and lime juices, soy sauce, oils, ginger, honey, and other stuff probably too that you can find if you rummage around.  And three, a crunchy nut topping akin to crack cocaine in its addictiveness.  I got a little wild with my nut topping too-- I threw some honey roasted peanuts, coconut, and cashews into the mortar and pestle and pounded them into a rough crumble.  And as you can see, I did not use sparingly.
It was so delicious!  Adam wasn't feeling well and only ate a bite or two of his before going to bed early, so after inhaling mine I polished his off as well.  I'm not proud to admit it, but I mention it as a testament to the deliciousness.  There are lots of leftover salad makings, so tonight I'm going to make it again, only this time I'm going to top it with Chili/Tamarind shrimp.  Drooling yet?

Here's one last excerpt from Hil's book.  Don't forget the peeper!

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.

Cold Day, Hot Food

This is my backyard right now.  Actually, the snow is about twice as deep now as it was when this picture was taken this morning.  Also, that very excellent looking icicle is no longer with us because I discovered today that Adam has somewhat of a compulsion about wrenching off icicles.  As soon as one forms on the eaves of the house, he pulls it off.  The things we learn about the people we love.

Anyway, when weather like this hits, making soup is pretty much required and as luck would have it, I didn't even have to set foot in the snow for it.  If you don't already know it by now, discovering that I just by chance have the ingredients for a cool dish without having to shop is one of the GREATEST things EVER.  So, the presence of a two-pound bag of carrots in the fridge dictated what kind of soup it would be...  
If you should find your backyard full of snow and your fridge full of carrots any time soon, here's what to do.  Wash and roughly chop the carrots (a recipe I was taking inspiration from suggested that I peel them, but I was not about to waste my time with that).  Throw them in a pot with 3 or 5 cups of water, and a quartered potato if you've got it.  Set it boiling, then simmer, covered, till the veggies are tender.
Meanwhile, roughly chop up a cup's worth of onion and/or shallots and saute them in some olive oil.  In a few minutes, add a few cloves of crushed garlic and saute a little longer.  Don't get fancy with your chopping-- it's all going in the blender in a few minutes.  When they're soft, add a few teaspoons salt, and the herbs and seasonings of your choice.  I added cumin, oregano and a little curry powder.  

Transfer the carrots, potato, water and the onion/garlic/herb mixture to a blender and puree.  Unless your blender is industrial-sized, you will need to do this in batches.  Return the lot to the pot and taste.  Adjust seasonings as needed.  Garnish with any fresh herbs you have lying around-- I happened to have my favorite, cilantro.  If no herbs, try some pumpkin or sesame seeds.  If no seeds, good old fashioned salt and pepper will also do the trick.
According to the weather forecast we are due for a blizzard this weekend, so Adam and I stocked up on other comfort foods to enjoy once the soup is gone: homemade tamales from a co-worker, good old spaghetti with tomato sauce and garlic bread, breakfast burritos, pancakes... maybe we'll fit a few carbs in there somewhere too.  Kidding.  More to come from the winter weekend kitchen...

Tuck in Thyme

At last!  The season for justified vegetating on the couch all day is here!  And thank god, because I've got some serious reading and movie-watching to catch up on.  I must say, I'm a bit relieved too that the spectacular, but let's admit it, rather fragile produce of the spring and summer is no longer around for us to exalt and make a fuss over.  (Full disclosure: I'll be exalting with the best of them come May.)  But now is the time for hardy fruits and veggies, like tubers and apples and pumpkins.  Good, wholesome, blue-collar vegetables that can sit in the produce bowl or in the crisper for a few weeks until you rediscover them.  And when you do discover them and cut off a few brown spots, you can throw them all in a pot and their flavors all come together unpretentiously to make a delicious soup.  Like so: 

This yummy concoction was born of no recipe at all, which is the great thing about veggie soup.  It's spontaneous, and it's a fabulous way to clean out the fridge.  This particular batch contains a russet potato (bought a couple weeks ago for breakfast burritos that never came to be), celery (purchased by Adam for some reason but never used), carrots (which are always sitting around), half an onion, a leek (the only ingredient bought special for the soup, for its flavor), garlic, a yam (not sure where that came from) and spinach (bought on sale a few days ago because it was old and ready to meet it's maker).  

The hardest part about it all is the cleaning, peeling, and chopping.  Luckily you don't need to be pretty about it.  Saute all the hard, dense veggies (in my case, everything but the spinach) for five or eight minutes in a big soup pot with some olive oil.  By the way, I'm noticing lately that recipes are telling me to wait a few minutes before adding the garlic to a saute.  I've tried it a couple times, and I think I like this new method-- it seems to prevent the garlic from burning.  While you're stirring the saute, mortar and pestle a few herbs that you like, such as thyme, oregano, salt, pepper, and toss in.

Pour stock, water, bouillion, or any combination thereof to cover.  Put a lid on the pot and just leave it alone for an hour or so.  Stir once in a while.  When the veggies were tender, I turned off the heat and stirred in the chopped spinach.  Season to taste with more s&p, a sprinkling of parmesan, or if you really want to get fancy, a dollop of pesto.

Instead of messing with pesto, I decided to focus on the other integral part of soup: the bread.  If all you've got in the house is sliced, storebought wheat and some oyster crackers then it's time to roll up your sleeves and fish out a packet of yeast from the fridge, where you have wisely stored it.  Then you can make some of this utterly delicious focaccia, whose recipe you can find here.  In the recipe, it tells you to make one "loaf" with thyme kneaded into it, and the other with parmesan sprinkled on top, which to me is sort of like eating a peanut butter sandwich one day and a jelly sandwich the next.  So I made BOTH loaves with thyme and parmesan and threw some sliced tomatoes on (before baking) to boot.

The hot soup and warm crusty/chewy focaccia were pure comfort, so delicious and homey that after dinner Adam and I immediately retreated to the couch to snuggle.  Not long after, the kids followed suit: