My latest on ReadyMade:
Because Throw Pillows Don’t Grow on Trees
Please read and comment. Pwetty pwease?
On the aforementioned trip to Italy’s Piedmont region, one dish we were served on a few occasions was a steak braised in red wine. It was tender and delicious, so I attempted it at home. And I attempted it. And I attempted it. Now part of the issue is that they were using much better beef than I purchase for $1.99 a pound at Associated. But also, it’s delicious. It makes the meat tender and flavorful. I’ve been playing around with reducing the sauce (I only know how to reduce liquids by accident) and using butter, trying shallots vs. onions, adding a little chili. But in the end, my experimentations have confirmed two things I already knew—garlic and wine make everything delicious, and butter only enhances said deliciousness. I also plan to do more braising. Maybe duck. When I’m ready to spend more than $1.99/pound.
Sorry friends. I’m been busy and not blogging. Tisk. I went to Italy, where I ate a lot (including pigeon!) and drank some fantastic wine—if you’re looking for a good red, find a Barbera from the Piedmont region. I got a story on a ReadyMade blog. I got my apartment hunt off to a false start. Busy times. But fear not, gentle readers; I have much to fill you in on.
I’m not observing the High Holy Days—I know, I know—but I did think yesterday would be an appropriate time to cook my first brisket. In my memory, it was a frequent feature of Friday night dinner (we didn’t call it shabbos, as my father’s a devout atheist) at my grandparents’ house. There always seemed to be a lot of fuss, technique, timing and luck involved in a good brisket. But after making grating potatoes and onions by hand to make a mean batch of latkes for Chanukkah last year, I was feeling frankly a little cocky. Just throw the thing in the slow cooker, right?
I rolled out of bed and went to the slightly fancy grocery store (not to be confused with the cheap grocery store or the gross grocery store, my other two local options), was disappointed by the lack of fresh butchery, grabbed a vacuum-sealed corned beef brisket and went on my way.
Did you catch that? Because I didn’t. It was corned beef brisket.
I sliced potatoes to line the bottom of the slowcooker, diced up some onions, put a little seasoning on the meat, added some red wine and beef stock, and set it on low heat for eight hours. When I got home about seven and a half hours later, it was still alarmingly pink, so I turned up the heat. My mom and grandmother happened to call, and I bragged that I was making brisket. “Did you use Lipton’s French onion soup mix?” my mom asked. Nope. “I use ketchup,” my grandmother said. None of that either.
Even full-cooked, it’s bright pink. It’s also stringy and very salty, but it’s edible. A told me it was good, and he’s not one to lie. So I guess not a total failure. But briskets (of the noncorned variety) be warned: I’ll be back. With a vengeance.
A few days ago, a cookbook called Recipes from Historic New England landed on my desk. (If I’m being totally honest, it was sent to a coworker, and when I saw it, I yelled, “But I’m from historic New England,” so he gave it to me.) I doubt I’ll follow any of the recipes in it, but I kind of want to save it forever and show it to my futurechildren as a relic. It’s just exactly what it should be, with scrolly typefaces and little anecdotes about the historic hotels and restaurants the recipes come from.
Beyond that, it looks good. There are so many ingredients I love—ginger, maple, rum, cream and obviously seafood—many of which I didn’t particularly associate with New England. And there are so many warm, mushy foods. I feel like I can open to any page, and even if I don’t want to make the exact dish featured, it will inspire me to make something similar. Good timing—I don’t have much to do this weekend, and Sunday is supposed to be rainy. I think I’ll try my hand at Blantyre sticky toffee pudding (once I get through the red velvet birthday cake A got me).
One last thing: Hilariously, there’s critical praise from Alex and Jean Trebek on the back cover. “Taste the essence of New England!” they urge (in my mind, in unison, while wearing matching Fair Isle sweaters).
When I was a kid, there were always all these urban legends about dreaming—eating a marshmallow and waking up to find holes in your pillow, or that the feeling of falling while your drifting off could kill you (seriously). One such myth was that you couldn’t actually eat in a dream. That’s a lie. I eat in my dreams all the time.
What’s weird is when it’s a food I’ve never eaten before. Last night, for example, I dreamt I was back in our old country house in St. Donat, Quebec, eating blueberry pizza. It was especially strange because I have such strong food associations with that place (Whippets, croissants, chicken from some place I can’t remember the name of, plums and bubblegum ice cream). But there I was, in my dream, eating some cheap, greasy pizza that had blueberry sauce instead of tomato sauce.
Let me tell you, it was delicious.
I real life, I’d go for a nice triple cream or mild goat cheese, and something slightly more delicate than pizza dough, but I think I might be onto something. Just another reason I really should be sleeping more.
I’ve tackled one of my chicken ideas—the chili peppers. I added some cider vinegar, some salt and a touch of butter, because, well butter is delicious—and so was my chicken! If I were to do it over again—which I probably will, because I still have chili peppers—I’d use the slow cooker to get more chili flavor, and stick them in the broiler for a second to crisp the skin.
I have a large package of drumsticks to work through next, and I’m thinking it’s time for the Italian dressing and beer recipe. I’ll try to change it up a bit, just to keep you all interested.
I eat a lot of chicken—skin on, on the bone. Don’t get me wrong, you can’t go wrong with chicken, and I’m eternally grateful to Nanny for the big packages of it she brings us. The thing is, I get bored of eating it the same way. A is pretty picky and generally likes it with adobo, sazon, salt, pepper, garlic powder, chili powder and onions. I always add paprika to his line up, and I’ve tried a few other things (lemon juice, orange zest was a hit, bay leaves were good, the butter and brown sugar glaze with whole garlic cloves tasted good to me but was dismissed as showing off by my beloved). In the interest of not eating the same chicken three or four nights a week, I’m documenting a list here of new things to try to spice up my chicken:
- Beer, Italian dressing and black olives. This was some Betty Crocker (or somesuch) recipe I found and modified in college. I love cooking with beer, and I love black olives, so it worked out pretty well.
- Tapenade and pesto. They’ve been sitting in my fridge and would form a delicious, thick paste that would certainly add some variety. If I could score some truffle oil, it might make a nice addition…
- Cornflake breaded. I haven’t perfected this yet, but it’s my favorite form of nonpanko breading.
- Chilis! My grocery store that isn’t good for much does have a good variety of dried chilis. I’m thinking with blue cheese, as a low-fat buffalo wings alternative.
- Sage butter. I have sage, and I have butter, so why not?
- Pumpkin. I make pumpkin lasagna a few times a year, varying the recipe slightly every time. It’s always delicious and impresses whoever I’m cooking for. So what if I were to dump all the ingredients except the ravioli into the slowcooker with some chicken, and have the ravioli as a side? I think I’m onto something, folks.
Of course, now that I’ve written this, I have to do all these things and write about them. If anyone has any tried-and-true chicken recipes, let me know.
I’ve been working on a sweater for my dad for about five years now. It’s not entirely my fault it’s taken so long—it’s kind of fine yarn, and you know what? I’m busy. But I’ve loved working on it. It’s a shawl-collar cardi with a twisted rib edge in Rowan Felted Tweed, one of many discontinued Rowan yarns that I would happily bathe in. At this point, I’m starting to doubt my measurements, not to mention gauge (I’m a lot tenser now than I was when I started, so I knit slightly tighter). I was going to apologize to Pops and rip the whole thing out, but then inspiration struck! After I’ve attached the sleeves and shoulder seems and finished the collar, I’ll block the whole thing out, measure it, and if necessary, and twisted rib panels on the sides and at where the seams on the underside of the sleeves would be to give it an extra couple of inches all around. Has anyone ever done this before? Am I the first? Will it even work? You tell me, readers.
After reading The Kitchn’s post about Jamie Oliver’s chicken in milk and then eating some curried chicken, I wanted to try my hand at adding some currylike flavors to the chicken in milk. I love coconut curries but find them a little too rich, so I thought the milk would give some creaminess without being overpowering. And I was right! It was delicious. I’m not one for recipes, so measurements are approximate, but here goes:
3 pieces quartered chicken, on the bone with skin (I suggest cutting them to separate drumstick from breast for a total of 6 pieces)
1.5 cups 2% or whole milk
10 cloves garlic, peeled but not chopped
4 bay leaves
2 tbsp. salt
1 tbsp. Adobo con pimienta (in my house, chicken is never cooked without adobo)
1 tsp. cayenne pepper
2 tsp. paprika
2 tsp. garlic powder
2 tsp. cumin
1 tsp. coriander
If you have a slowcooker, throw everything in all together as one does in a slowcooker. I did it on high for three hours, but low for five would work just as well. A fun tip: I made rice as a side and mashed up the garlic cloves with the rice. I think the recipe would also taste good with bell peppers, but A won’t eat those, so someone else will have to let me know.
