My favorite shrimp

A few weeks ago, the Anthropologist and I went out for Chinese food, and I ordered one of my favorite dishes: walnut shrimp. Afterward, doggy bag with leftover shrimp in hand, we went to a friend's house for a party. I wound up forgetting my beloved shrimp in their fridge, and honestly, I was quite upset about it — enough so that later that week, I began my quest to make my own walnut shrimp.

I love recreating Chinese dishes at home. I make a darn good sweet and sour chicken (if I do say so myself!), as well as chow mein and fried shrimp-and- shitaake-filled won tons. So it wasn't too daunting of a task to research the recipe, gather up the ingredients, and put the dish together. In fact, I had a lot of fun with it!

The first step in recreating honey walnut shrimp is making the candied walnuts. This required briefly boiling walnut halves, then sautéing them in a mixture of butter and brown sugar. My tip is to keep a close on them while they are cooking because the sauce burns easily.

Next, the shrimp are coated in a batter of rice flour and egg. I thought the batter was too clumpy and didn't stick too well to the shrimp, even after they were well-patted with a paper towel. Next time, I might just toss the shrimp with a little plain cornstarch before pan-frying them in oil.

Finally comes the sauce, which is what makes the dish. I learned that it's made from a mix of mayonnaise, sweetened condensed milk, and honey. Easy, completely fattening, and amazingly delicious.

On a non-shrimp-related note: Last year, I got The Cook's Canon: 101 Classic Recipes Everyone Should Know from my dad. I'm hoping to cook my way through it, from apple pie to zabaglione (minus any recipes involving pig flesh, which I don't eat), and I'll share my adventures with all of you.



Honey Walnut Shrimp
(gleaned from several web-based recipes)

1/4 c walnuts
2 tbsp butter
2 tbsp brown sugar
1/2 lb shrimp, peeled and deveined
2 egg whites
1/3 c rice flour
1/8 c mayonnaise
1 tbsp honey
1 tbsp sweetened condensed milk

Parboil walnuts for 2 min. Drain. Melt butter in a small pan, then stir in brown sugar until dissolved. Sauté walnuts in butter mixture until golden brown, about 3-4 min. Set aside.

Beat egg white in a small bowl until foamy. Stir in rice flour to create a paste.

Heat about 1 inch of oil in a heavy, deep skillet. Dredge shrimp in rice flour batter and fry until golden, about 5 min. Remove and drain on paper towels.

In a serving bowl, combine mayo, honey, and condensed milk. Add shrimp and toss to coat. Sprinkle walnuts on top and serve.

Serves 2.

Pocket pies

Here in the Not from a Box household, Tuesday nights are not when cooking happens. The Anthropologist goes out to play poker, and I usually stay after work to have dinner with my girlfriends. Then I go home, watch a little TV, start reading my favorite food blogs... and that's when it hits me that I haven't posted in an entire month.

So here's a little something I whipped up several weeks ago, when apples were aplenty and a baked dessert was in order. They're super easy to make, too, thanks to frozen puff pastry. You can also fill them with whatever fruit is handy and spice them however you want. Because, really, that's all I did. In fact, I don't remember precisely all that went into the apple filling because I was just making it up as I went along. The following recipe is my best guess at how I went about it. Feel free to adjust it to your liking.



Pocket pies
(inspired by Alton Brown)

1 sheet of frozen puff pastry, thawed
2 apples, peeled and diced
1 tbsp butter
1 tbsp sugar, to taste
pinch of cinnamon, ground cloves, allspice, ginger

Preheat oven to 400°F. Meanwhile, sautee the apples in butter and sugar until apples are soft and sugar has caramelized, about ten minutes. Add spices, and cook for another minute. Let cool slightly.

Roll out puff pastry. Cut into four squares. Place about one tbsp of filling onto each square, then fold over, creating a triangle shape. (You may not use all the filling.) Use a fork to seal and create a decorative edge, then cut small vents in the top.

Place on a parchment-lined baking sheet, and bake for about 15 minutes or until golden.

Serves 4.

Not loafing around

I haven't had much time to post recently, since my other hobby, scrapbooking, has gotten in the way. I'm working on a big family scrapbook for my grandfather's 90th birthday party, which is in two weeks. This doesn't mean I haven't been cooking, but otherwise, I've been up to my elbows in paper, stickers, and photos. Now, however, I've got some time because I ran out of archival-quality glue stick and all the craft stores are closed for Easter.

(Couldn't they have at least stayed open for a couple hours? Having had lots of time to explore scrapbooking materials, I've noticed that the majority of craft stores market to Christian soccer moms with big families who go on vacations to the beach, camping, or Disneyland every summer. Not that I have a problem with these kinds of people! It just makes it hard for the rest of us scrapbookers who don't fall into that category and want materials that touch on other topics — and who need a glue stick on Easter. But I digress...)

Inspired by variety of people — Alice Waters, Barbara Kingsolver, my cousin Deb — I've taken up making bread. Using the recipe for sandwich bread in How to Cook Everything and armed with a food processor, today makes my third loaf of bread in a month. Before this, I hadn't made my own loaf of bread for over three years — and it had been done completely by hand. Well, no wonder bread seemed hard to make, what with all the stirring and the kneading of the sticky dough. A food processor makes it the easiest thing in the world to make incredibly delicious, yeasty bread.

The first loaf I made didn't seem to be rising, and I thought I had somehow ruined it. This time, I put the dough to rise in my oven (which is gas and stays slightly warm all the time), and it has risen so much better than previously. For the second loaf I made, I forgot to grease the loaf pan, and the bread stuck pretty tight, which required a lot of tearing away of the nice, brown crust. I definitely remembered all steps this third time around.

After coming out of the oven, the Anthropologist and I can easily eat half a loaf right away, with butter or as a PB&J. Over the next few days, we eat slices with eggs or as French toast for breakfast, and the Anthropologist makes sandwiches with anything that might happen to be leftover. I've been making white bread, since that is the type of flour I've had on hand, and this is hands-down the best and the only white bread I will ever eat. (Typically, I buy whole wheat bread from the store.) The Anthropologist asked me why this bread is better than what we can purchase, and honestly, I'm not sure. Is it the lack of preservatives or bread softeners? How incredibly fresh it is? Or maybe that it's made with love?

Whatever it is, I'm eager to make other kinds of bread. I bought whole wheat flour today and will make whole wheat bread next weekend. And perhaps I will start looking into more labor-intensive breads, like challah or sourdough. Meanwhile, I challenge you to make your own bread — because once you do, you may never want to go back to store-bought bread ever again.



Sandwich bread
(courtesy of Mark Bittman's How to Cook Everything)

3-1/2 c all-purpose flour, plus more for kneading
2 tsp salt
1-1/2 tsp instant yeast
1 tbsp sugar or honey
2 tbsp butter, room temperature
1-1/3 cool, whole milk
oil or butter for greasing

Into a food processor, put the flour, salt, and yeast, and process for 5 seconds. Keep the machine running, and add through the feed tube the sweetener, butter, and milk. Pulse for 30 seconds, until the dough forms a ball. If it seems too sticky, add flour one tablespoon at a time, pulsing for a couple seconds after each addition. If it seems too dry, add milk one tablespoon at a time, pulsing afterward.

On a lightly floured surface, knead for one minute. Shape into a ball, and place into a large greased bowl. Cover with a damp towel, and let rise for at least 2 hours or until doubled in size. Once risen, punch down, then recover and let sit for 15 minutes.

Knead on a lightly floured surface for another minute, then fold slightly into a rectangle. Place into a greased loaf pan, flattening it firmly into the pan. Cover, and let rise 1 hour or until doubled in size.

Preheat oven to 350°F. Brush the loaf lightly with water, and place in the oven. Bake for 45 minutes. Remove from pan and let cool on a wire rack before slicing.

Seasonal Eating 101

Not too long ago, the Anthropologist asked me how he was supposed to know what was in season. Rather than telling him to Google it, I put together a list of fruits and vegetables, organized by the season they are available here in California. I printed it small, so that he could tuck the paper into his wallet for easy reference when he was at the store.

Fast forward to a week or so later, when I brought chocolate sugar cookies (the first thing the Anthropologist and I have ever cooked together) to a classroom potluck. I left a little note on them, letting everyone know they were made with organic and fair trade ingredients. Apparently, when I was out of the room, the parents began talking about how it's hard to know what to buy these days. (Maybe it's time to start preparing some notes for a presentation on sustainable eating...)

Then I decided that I could share the list I created with the families — and with the entire Center in general. I emailed my coworkers to let them know I would get them some copies if they wanted them. And I got several "orders" right away! So I tweaked the format of the list to make it double-sided, still wallet-sized, with some handy info about seasonability. They are a little labor intensive to make, but I'm rather proud of them — and excited that I can share something I am passionate about.

Emailing about milk

While I don't read as much as I'd like (oh, television, you are so hard to give up), I do manage to read a whole lot about food. In fact, I have an entire shelf in my bedroom dedicated to the food books I am slowly but surely accumulating. Currently, I am working on Barbara Kingsolver's Animal, Vegetable, Miracle (which the Anthropologist got me for Christmas) and Sandor Ellix Katz's The Revolution Will Not Be Microwaved. I am full to bursting with food knowledge that I am eager to share with others — whether they want to hear it or not.

Working at a child care center, the topic of food often comes up, not only in relation to children but in relation to the food that the teachers eat (remember who I work for and the free food we get?). The first food-related email thread that went around a couple months back wanted to know why we didn't get fruit like grapes and bananas in our kitchen and how difficult it was to get used to eating seasonally and locally, which is something the chef staff highly values. So I got onto my soap box and let them know why eating this way is a good thing (better nutritional value, supporting local farms), including giving them what I call my "banana lecture," which basically breaks down why buying bananas creates such a large carbon footprint. I don't know if anyone actually paid any attention to me, but I did get a couple of thank-yous for the information.

The latest opportunity for me to spread the good food word came today, with an email about milk consumption at the center. The head chef was concerned that the children weren't drinking enough milk and that 12 ounces was meant to be their recommended daily allowance. Back up I went onto my soap box, and I said: "Milk is a food, and it is a food that the children are consuming as part of a varied diet. By eating milk and milk products, beans, meat, grains, veggies, etc., our kids are getting what one would assume would be a well-rounded amount of nutrients every day. K------ said, 'Children require about 12oz. of milk each day to insure proper growth.' I would think that if the children are getting their calcium from dark leafy greens or yogurt or cheese, and their vitamins A and D from other sources (carrots are a good source of A; sunlight gives us D), we shouldn't worry too much about how much milk they are or are not drinking."

It's am interesting topic to me, this whole milk thing. Personally, I love milk. After reading Marion Nestle and Nina Plank, and doing research on which companies produce the most sustainable, consumption-friendly product, I drink whole, nonhomogenized, organic Strauss milk (in the glass bottles). Despite being able to easily put away a glass or two of milk in a sitting, I don't necessarily agree that milk is as important as a food as the dairy industry would like us to believe. Certainly, it is no more important than any other foodstuff. Anyway, I'm curious whether anyone will have a response to my position on milk.

In other news, I have been very uninspired to cook lately, and I have to convince myself not to stop at Taco Bell or suggest to the Anthropologist that we have dinner at the brewery. The last couple times I went to the farmers' market, I went home with very little in my bag — which is, perhaps, just a sign of the between-seasons slump: I'm tired of root vegetables and greens, apples and oranges. Bring on the asparagus, artichokes, and peas!

Dinner improv

Some days, I have no idea what to make for dinner. So I headed to the local grocery store and found myself at the fish counter. "Sure," I heard myself saying to the guy who had just asked, "Can I help you?" "I'll take a pound of those mussels." Except I'd never cooked mussels before and wasn't certain I'd bought enough for two servings, much less what to do with them when I got home.

Armed with some knowledge from the Food Network and a couple recipes as reference, I managed to whip up a pretty tasty dinner with stuff I had in the cupboards:

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Moules Provencale
(adapted from a recipe on epicurious.com)
serves 2

1/2 onion, chopped
2 garlic cloves, minced
1/2 c vegetable broth or white wine
1 14-oz can diced tomatoes
pinch each of dried basil, herbes de Provence, and sugar
1 lb mussels, scrubbed and beards removed

In a large pot, saute onion and garlic until soft. Add broth or wine and let reduce slightly, then add tomatoes and seasonings. Bring to a simmer, then add mussels. Cover and continue to simmer lightly until the mussels open, which only take a few minutes. Discard any mussels that haven't opened.

Serve over your favorite skinny pasta (I used capellini) with some crusty bread to soak up the sauce.

My food philosophy

The Anthropologist, in his attempt to get me to start thinking about writing my own food book, asked me a couple weeks ago to write a paragraph on what my philosophy is regarding food. It has definitely changed over the last couple years, as I read more about humane and sustainable eating and think more about how I shop (both for food and for other things). While I probably spend more time contemplating my food choices than the average person does, I feel good about the decisions I make.

So, without further ado, here is what I wrote for my "assignment":

For me, food should be real. This means food should be made of wholesome, natural ingredients with names I can actually pronounce. I prefer that these ingredients come out of the ground or from the animal in as unadulterated form as possible. I think if food is going to come out of a box or a can or a bag, these “convenience foods” should be viewed as an occasional treat, not as something that is the mainstay of every meal.

Food should be something that both sustains us and is enjoyable. I believe food should be nutrient-dense, that the calories our bodies take in should be joined by vitamins, minerals, and fiber that occur naturally in the food. This same food should also be a pleasure to eat because it tastes good.

It is important to me that we know the source of our food. Yes, Old McDonald had a farm, and on that farm he had some chickens, some of which laid the eggs for our breakfast and some of which became the roast chicken legs for dinner. Food does not come “from the grocery store” — it comes from the dirt and from animals that were once living and breathing.

Finally, food should be produced in ways that sustain the environment, provide fair wages to workers, and humanely treat animals. When we purchase food, we are, as Marion Nestle puts it, “voting with our forks” by choosing to support the conglomerate or the organic farmer or anyone else in between. I aim for my food to be as locally-produced as possible, with the exceptions of chocolate, coffee, spices, and sugar.

Winter comforts, part 2

I don't know how I'll ever manage to live outside of California, knowing that we are so spoiled for choice here in terms of fresh produce — even in the winter. I've really been enjoying going to the farmers' market on Sundays and filling up my bag with eggs, blood oranges, turnips, carrots, chard, kale, leeks, mushrooms, raw cheese, and bread. If I were living in freezing cold Minnesota or Virginia? No such luck.

To celebrate, in a way, the bounty of winter here on the west coast, I made a giant pot of roasted vegetable broth. Because, in all honesty, the kind you get in a can or box just doesn't taste very good. I started by roasting a variety of root veggies, onions, and garlic, then tossed them into a pot with a huge amount of trimmings and otherwise wasted vegetable parts: green carrot tops, red onion skins, shiitake mushroom stems, and the green part of leeks. I threw some water over it all, added some pepper and soy sauce, simmered for a while, and voila! It tastes great as a base for a winter vegetable stew or to cook brown rice in. It's also quite lovely just in a bowl, with a poached egg floating in it. As a bonus, it made the apartment smell wonderful.

Alice Waters, in The Art of Simple Food, has convinced me (even further than usual) that if you can do it better yourself, using high-quality ingredients you can feel good about using, why not take a little time to cook? Reading her cookbook has inspired me to start cooking more and start making ice cream and baking bread again.



Roasted Vegetable Stock
(adapted from Mark Bittman's How to Cook Everything Vegetarian)

olive oil
1 leek, well-washed, cut into chunks
4 carrots, cut into chunks, with tops removed and reserved (if available)
1 celery stalk, cut into chunks
1 parsnip or turnip, cut into chunks
6 cloves garlic
whatever veggie leftovers you might have lying around (I often save bits that might be good to put into broth)
2 tbsp dried parsley
1 tbsp dried thyme (obviously, you can use fresh herbs, but I didn't have any on hand)
1/4 c soy sauce
10 black peppercorns
1/2 c white wine
salt and freshly ground pepper

Preheat the oven to 450°F. Combine olive oil, leeks, carrots, celery, parsnip, and garlic in a large roasting pan, and toss to coat. Put the pan in the oven, stirring occasionally and turning everything at least once until everything is browned, about 45 minutes.

Put this mixture into a large stockpot, then add the extra veggie trimmings, herbs, soy sauce, peppercorns, wine, and 3 quarts of water. Bring to a boil, then partially cover and turn down the heat so the water is at a bare simmer. Cook until the veggies are very soft, 30 to 45 minutes. Strain, pressing on the vegetables to squeeze out all the juice. Taste and season as necessary.

Makes 3 quarts, give or take.

Winter comforts, part 1

It's an old cliché at this point — that there's something about winter that just screams for comfort food. Personally, I think there's never a wrong time for comforting, home-cooked meals. Regardless, I present to you one of my favorite comfort foods: the Sloppy Joe. Generally considered kids' fare, I've actually eaten more Sloppy Joes as an adult than a did as a child. We never had them much at home when I was growing up, though I do remember making "Sloppy Toms" from a recipe in a Better Homes and Gardens children's cookbook (the difference was swapping ground turkey for the beef). Paired with baked beans and a mix of corn and peas, this satisfies my nostalgia for an idyllic childhood supper, one which I imagine much of middle America eats to this day.

Making Sloppy Joes at my house can be a bit of a production, since I eat meat and the Anthropologist does not. I start with two pans, one for the ground beef and the other for soy-based imitation ground. Then I add the ingredients for the sauce on top of each filling and let both simmer while the buns heat up in the toaster oven. The Sloppy Joe mixture ends up moist and saucy, which is exactly how it should be — it's not called "sloppy" for nothing!


Sloppy Joes
(adapted from Bob Sloan's Dad's Own Cookbook)

1/2 lb ground beef
1/4 c ketchup
1/4 c tomato sauce
2 tsp each: red wine vinegar, Worcestershire sauce, brown sugar
salt

Brown the beef, then add the other ingredients to the pan. Simmer for 15 minutes and pour the mixture into toasted whole wheat buns.

Serves 2.

(Out of ketchup? Barbecue sauce makes a delicious substitution, which was the Anthropologist's suggestion when I was faced with that dilemma.)

A major cooking blunder

I don't know what's wrong with me today. For some reason, I keep managing to not clearly read instructions that are right in front of my face. First, it was at work, which only caused slight embarrassment. But then... I completely botched one of the items I was going to give as gifts this year.

Last year, I'd wanted to make marshmallows and couldn't find the time for it, amidst all the other food-making I was doing. This year, I really wanted to give it a try. I didn't manage to fit in into the twelve-hour cooking marathon this past weekend, so I thought I'd try it tonight after work, while the Anthropologist was out playing poker and I had the apartment to myself.

I put some gelatin in a bowl with water to soften. The next instruction went on to say, "Add sugar, corn syrup..." etc. etc. So I put those things into the bowl, too. Only when it was too late did I notice the end of the sentence: "... to a heavy saucepan." I was supposed to boil the sugar syrup separately, then add it to the gelatin. A whole batch of marshmallows ruined — which means four packs of gelatin, three cups of sugar, and a cup and a quarter of corn syrup wasted, down the drain (literally).

I contemplated running out to Safeway, even though it was nearly 9:30pm already, but decided against it. Homemade marshmallows were just not meant to be. Again.

Birthday cake

It's the Anthropologist's birthday tomorrow, and he's turning the big 3-0. To mark the beginning of a new decade, he has chosen not a fancy dinner or a romantic meal at home — but a pizza buffet that he's been wanting to go to for weeks. This buffet only occurs on Monday and Wednesday nights, and conveniently, his birthday happens to fall on a Wednesday this year. And who am I to complain? I like pizza, and I like not having to spend a whole lot of money on his birthday dinner!

Still, I wanted to do something a little more celebratory for him, so I decided to make him a cake. After being together for over three years, I just recently (as in, last week) learned that the Anthropologist loves blueberries. I thought about making these beautiful cupcakes from a recipe I'd torn out of Bon Appetit a couple years back, with blueberries in the cake and a maple sugar frosting. But when I thought about it — and how much work that was — and how I was going to be getting home late the night before his birthday... it didn't sound like a good option.

So I decided to make him a blueberry cheesecake instead. And rather than doing something over the top and fancy involving springform pans and water baths, I chose the easiest, simplest cheesecake recipe I had: Desperate for Cheesecake, from Cooking for the Clueless, one of my first and most well-used cookbooks. After a post-work discussion group over dinner, I stopped in at Trader Joe's , then went straight home to throw together a graham cracker crust, cheesecake filling, and blueberry swirl. I had walked in the door at 9pm and had the cheesecake in the oven by 9:45. After a little refrigeration (and a note to a certain someone not to eat it!), the cake will be ready for a few candles and a round of "Happy Birthday to You" tomorrow night.

If only every birthday was this simple.



Desperate for Cheesecake with blueberry swirl
(adapted from Cooking for the Clueless by Evelyn Raab)


1-1/3 c graham cracker crumbs (about 10 Trader Joe's graham crackers, crushed)
1/4 c sugar
3 tbsp butter, melted

2 pkgs cream cheese, room temperature
1/2 c sugar
1 tsp vanilla extract
2 eggs


Preheat the oven to 350°F.

Mix graham cracker crumbs with sugar and butter. Press into the bottom and sides of a 9-inch pie pan.

In a large bowl and using an electric mixer, beat together cream cheese, sugar, and vanilla. Add eggs and mix until smooth. Pour into crust.* Bake for 40 minutes (it helps if you put the pan on a cookie sheet for easier removal) — the center will still be soft. Cool and refrigerate at least 3 hours or overnight.

*To add a blueberry swirl, put 1 c of thawed blueberries (or fresh, I suppose, but where are going to get fresh blueberries at this time of year?) into a food processor and process until smooth. Add dollops of blueberry puree on top of the cheesecake filling. Use a knife (or in my case, a chopstick) to cut through the cheesecake to create a marbled effect.

Thinking outside the cat box

When it comes to food, I'm a rather conscientious eater, as you well know. I spend a lot of time thinking about what goes onto my plate, and by that I mean I generally eat organic, local, humanely-treated, hormone-free, and low-processed foods. Recently, I decided I needed to put more thought into what I gave my cats to eat, too.

Over three years ago, when I got Sabriel as a kitten, I fed him Iams because that's what he had been eating at the shelter. After a few months, and some conversations with my new boyfriend the Anthropologist, I learned that the company that makes Iams (and other pet foods) tests its products on animals. Now, it's true that you must "test" food out on animals by offering it to them to eat, to find out if it's palatable to cats and dogs; however, while it's never been made completely clear by PETA and similar organizations, the kind of testing that most conventionally-made pet food companies do most likely involves laboratory testing which includes various forms of cruelty to animals. So I decided to go cruelty-free and switched to Natural Balance, a company owned by Dick van Patten. It was a little more expensive, but what's a few more dollars every month or so to feel good about the food my cats were eating?

After moving a few months ago, I found myself having to pick up cat food when I was back in my old home town — because I had no idea where to get Natural Balance in San Jose. Two different stores (excluding the big chains, which I already knew didn't) the Anthropologist and I visited didn't carry it. Finally, I went to a feed store nearby and asked a woman working there to recommend a similar but different brand. I ended up buying Royal Canin, which I immediately looked up when I got home — and discovered it's owned by a company that tests on animals. How else could they could claim their food produced less odor (which is one of the reasons I actually had bought this particular brand)?

I eventually decided that I needed to go all the way with my cats' food and commit to buying a brand that I could really feel good about: Newman's Organic. I'm completely dedicated to organics, so why shouldn't my cats eat the same way? It's better for them and better for the environment. Sure, it costs about ten dollars for three pounds of food, but again, I feel better about what Sabre and Friday are eating.

It's hard to tell what exactly PETA, who, as I mentioned above, is the primary organization invested in such matters, finds objectionable about the lab testing performed by pet food companies. There are few to no details available about what sort of testing is going on, and since I'm not the biggest fan of PETA's methods (they don't even think people should have pets), I do wonder what qualifies as "cruelty" to them. Regardless, I want to do the best thing for animals, and if that means spending a little more money and a little more thought on what I'm buying, that's fine by me. It works for me, and it's working for my cats, too.

The empty cupboard challenge

I often find myself going into my kitchen around dinner time and thinking, "I don't have any food!" This is often a gross exaggeration, since I generally have basic staples (frozen veggies, canned beans, bread, etc.) stocked up, waiting to be used. But when I'm hungry and have no idea what to make for dinner, the fridge can seem rather lacking in appetizing food.

Last weekend, I was presented with such a dinner challenge. There were two spinach and cheese quiches in the back of my freezer, which covered me for the main dish. But what about sides? Years ago, when I was living with one of my brothers, my standard quiche side dish was an artichoke. Being that I didn't exactly have any artichokes lying around in my nearly bare crisper, I opted for two slightly limp zucchini instead. I also pulled out some small potatoes from the cupboard, which were already sprouting from the eyes.

Referring to a couple of my handy cookbooks, I came up with what turned out to be a really nice meal. The zucchini were sauteed with garlic, then covered in tomato sauce and Parmesan, and broiled till the cheese was bubbling. The potatoes were boiled, then browned in a pan before being tossed with rosemary. Add the quiche, and there it was: dinner.

Return of the cook

For the past few weeks (months, even), I haven't exactly been eating healthy. My work schedule typically gets me home after 7pm, which often meant I was too tired to cook. So I got to-go food from work or went out to a restaurant with the Anthropologist, where I didn't really make the best food choices: I was eating a lot of fried foods, foods covered in cream sauces, and not entirely enough fruits and vegetables.

Last weekend, I declared I was going on a "detox" diet. Far be it from me to actually follow a fad diet (and I wasn't about to starve myself and only drink fruit juices or herbal concoctions) — what I really meant was that I was going to try to eat better. No more eating out. No more meat-and-carbs-only meals. And it was time to start cooking again.

After reading a couple articles on "detox" diets, I decided that, as a guideline, I would try to avoid processed foods (which I try to do anyway), as well as anything with a high sugar or fat content, including meat, and I would concentrate on getting my five to nine servings of produce, including lots of dark, leafy greens. Of course, I'm not always successful (dinner at Taco Bell doesn't exactly fit the criteria, does it?), but I'm happy that I'm cooking again and I feel healthier.

Tonight I decided to make a fish pie, which contained elements of recipes from both Nigella Lawson and Jamie Oliver. (I had both cookbooks open on the kitchen table and was studying them intently, which caused the Anthropologist to remark that I looked like I was working on a paper.) Served on the side were peas and Heinz baked beans, which apparently are the classic accompaniments to such a dish. It was really very good: a hearty meal for a cold, late autumn night.

Stay tuned for more! I know I often promise this kind of post or another, but I truly am going to try to post on a more regular basis — and a post about something is better than no post at all.



Fish pie
(adapted from Nigella's Feast and Jamie's The Naked Chef Takes Off)

1 large Russet potato, weighing about 1 lb, cut in 1-inch cubes
1/4 c butter, divided (alternatively, use olive oil)
2 handfuls of spinach
1/4 onion, diced
2 small carrots, halved lengthwise, then diced
1 tbsp flour
1 c milk, whole or otherwise
1 tsp herbes de Provence (or thyme or other herb mix)
1 pinch saffron, soaked in 1 tbsp warm water
1/2 lb white fish, like cod (I used tilapia), sliced into strips
juice of 1 lemon


Preheat oven to 400°F.

Boil potato in salted water until tender, about 15 minutes. Mash with butter or olive oil, pepper, or whatever else you like.

Meanwhile, wilt the spinach any way you like and set aside. Sauté the onion and carrots in olive oil until soft, about 5 minutes. Remove from pan. Melt 1 tbsp butter, then whisk in flour. Cook on low heat for a couple minutes, until golden. Gradually add the milk, whisking all the while, until the sauce becomes smooth and thick. Return the onion and carrots to the pan, along with the herbes de Provence (or whatever you're using) and the saffron. Cook for 5 minutes.

In a casserole dish large enough to fit everything (I used a large, deep ramekin*), put the spinach and the fish at the bottom with the lemon juice. Add the sauce on top, smoothing it out with a rubber spatula. Then add the mashed potato on top, making sure the sides are sealed so that no sauce can escape. Place the dish on a baking sheet (to catch any surprise drips) and bake for 25 minutes, until golden on top.

Serve with peas and English baked beans. Nigella and Jamie insist.

Serves 2-3.



*The Anthropologist thinks this sounds dirty.

Cooking at home

Cooking is really a rare occurence these days. Which is too bad because the new apartment came with a brand new gas oven and a brand new refrigerator that are not getting very much use at all. But we had a staff potluck this past week, where we were supposed to bring something we ate during our childhoods, so I cooked my very first dish in the until-then-unused kitchen: chicken adobo.

My mom made this all the time when I was a kid, and she still does to this day. It can be made either with chicken or pork and is usually served with chopped tomatoes and steamed rice. It's an easy, one-pot dish, provided you opt to buy your chicken legs already separated. (I went to town on my chicken legs, hacking away at them with a knife and kitchen scissors. I still haven't figured out how to cut up a raw chicken gracefully.)



My mom's chicken adobo
(courtesy of my mom)

Four chicken legs, divided into thighs and drumsticks
1/4 c cider vinegar
1/4 c soy sauce
several cloves of garlic, smashed
lots of freshly ground black pepper

In a large pan or pot (I used a dutch oven), brown the chicken pieces on all sides. You may have to do this in batches. Drain off all the rendered fat. To the chicken, add the remaining ingredients. On low, bring to a simmer and cover. Cook for about 30 min, until the chicken is cooked through, moving the pieces around occasionally so that all are coated with the sauce.

Serve with chopped tomatoes and rice, along with a little of the sauce.

Serves 4.

Gourmet grub at Google

Now that I work for the corporation that owns this blogging site, I've had very little time to cook. I'm at work all day, and then when I come home, all my kitchen stuff is in boxes (I just moved a week ago). But who needs to cook when I get gourmet food for free?

My first week on the job, which started a month ago, I was completely in awe of all the delicious food that was available at all time and at no cost. There are sixteen different cafes that all have different themes, such as regional American, the "seven seas and the seven continents," raw and vegetarian, and "the fourteen tastes." In the above photo, from the Spanish tapas cafe, my lunch consisted of a flageolet gratin, yellowtail sashimi, fennel soup, beef tenderloin in some sort of delicious sauce, and a composed salad of apricot, frisse, and goat cheese. (Dessert, not shown, was a white chocolate cheesecake with fresh raspberries and a vanilla custard with candied hazelnuts and chocolate mousse.)

There are specific meal times that the cafes are open, but during the off-hours, there are fridges where prepackaged meals, salads, soups, and fruits and veggies are available. One day, I picked up a wonderfully spicy goat curry with dal and basmati rice; another day, I had teriyaki salmon, broccoli raab, and rice. I've also had a huge salad with carrots, ridiculously delicious tomatoes, bacon, and feta cheese. And it's all in season, from local growers when possible, and well prepared.

I will start cooking again soon (to tell the truth, I miss it!), but in the meantime, I'll be reporting on the things I'm eating at work.

Cakes: Celebrating my birthday month

How do people find time to up-date their blogs on a regular basis? Between working, getting ready for a new job, preparing to move over the hill, and taking a trip to Minnesota this past week, the time just seems to slip through my fingers.

Till I can get on track with cooking (I haven't gone grocery shopping since I got back into town in the wee hours of Friday morning, and the cupboards are bare), I present to you a pineapple upside-down cake, which I baked in honor of my cat turning three on May 16. (The cake, obviously, was for the humans in the household. Sabriel got some of his favorite canned tuna.)

While making this cake, I learned an important lesson: Don't make upside-down cakes in a springform pan. The recipe called for a 2-inch deep cake pan, and since mine was only 1-1/2 inches deep, I thought the springform pan would be the next best thing, being that it was made extra deep to hold delicious mile-high cheesecake goodness. Well, when the sound of splattering on the bottom of the oven got my attention, I realized all the lovely brown sugar and butter that the pineapple was supposed to cook in was slowly making its escape. The resulting cake was fine, though it lacked a sugary glaze and, therefore, some sweetness.

Stay tuned for more of my favorite cake recipes as we count down the days till my Cancerian birthday.



Fresh pineapple upside-down cake
(courtesy of Gourmet magazine)

1-2/3 c all-purpose flour
1-1/2 tsp baking powder
1/4 tsp baking soda
1/4 tsp salt
1/2 fresh pineapple, halved lengthwise, cored, and peeled
1-1/2 sticks (3/4 cup) unsalted butter, softened
1/2 c packed light brown sugar
2/3 c granulated sugar
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
2 large eggs
2/3 cup well-shaken buttermilk (I did the "cheating" method of mixing 1 tablespoon of white vinegar into 1 c milk and letting it sit for 5 min)

Preheat oven to 350°F.

Mix together flour, baking powder and soda, and salt into a bowl. Cut pineapple crosswise into 1/4-inch-thick wedges.

Butter a 9-inch round cake pan (2 inches deep) lightly on side and generously on bottom of pan using 1/2 stick butter. Sprinkle all of brown sugar evenly over bottom and arrange pineapple over it, starting in center of pan and overlapping slices slightly.

Beat together remaining stick butter, granulated sugar, and vanilla with an electric mixer at medium speed, about 2 min, then add eggs 1 at a time, beating well after each addition. Mix in flour mixture alternately with buttermilk in batches, beginning and ending with flour and mixing just until batter is smooth.

Spread batter evenly over pineapple and bake until a wooden pick inserted in center of cake comes out clean, 40 to 45 min. Cool 15 min in pan on a rack, then invert cake onto a plate and remove pan. Cool to room temperature.

Serves 8 to 10.

Food for thought

The Anthropologist took the qualifying exams for his Ph.D. last week. The week before that, he mentioned that it was traditional for the student to provide his committee of professors with something to nibble on during the exams. Wanting to help -- and also wanting an opportunity to show off my cooking skills -- I told him not to worry about the food, that I'd take care of it.

The Anthropologist's committee chair had recommended finger foods, like veggies and fruit. I think she didn't want the Anthropologist to have something else to have to worry about. Little did she know, that he has a girlfriend who makes even the most simple foods fancy. I did include fruit and veggies -- I just gussied them up a bit.

I decided on a simple but filling menu: pesto chicken salad on rosemary focaccia with roasted red peppers, blue cheese-stuffed endive, and tropical fruit salad with ginger syrup.

The fruit salad came about because I saw that fresh pineapples were on sale. I never get to buy a fresh pineapple because, well, I'm allergic. (It's too highly acidic, so I can only eat one or two pieces.) I got so much joy out of cutting it up: it smelled so fragrant and tasted so sweet. I think preparing the pineapple was the highlight of this entire cooking endeavor.

I was a little nervous about how the food would be received. I've never met any of the people who would be eating it, so I didn't know what everyone's tastes in food were. But the containers I had sent off with the Anthropologist came back empty, which is exactly what a cook wants to see!

Incidentally, the Anthropologist passed his exams. Not thanks to my food, of course, but I think I at least put his committee in a good mood with a tasty meal.

Breakfast discovery

Lately, on most mornings when I'm not running out the door late, I eat a bowl of hot cereal. I have it down to an exact science: 1/3 cup of Bob's Old Mill organic 10-grain cereal, 1 tablespoon of flax seed (which brings it to a total of 12 grams of fiber — this is not for the weak of intestines!), 1/2 cup of water, and 1/4 cup whole milk. The trick is not to stir it at all, just dump everything in. This gets microwaved for two minutes, then sits for a few minutes to cool. I've found that if you stir too early, the cereal becomes thick and clumpy, which is not at all how I like it. Now, add a spoonful of sugar, followed by a healthy dash of cinnamon. (This final addition began when I read an article about the correlation between the consumption of cinnamon and a reduced risk of diabetes.)

Today, as I took the jar of cinnamon down from the cupboard above the sink, I eyed the ground cloves. Ground cloves, I thought. They taste good with cinnamon. So I added a little pinch. You know what tastes good with cinnamon and cloves? Ginger. In it went. The result? Just a hint of spice, like gingerbread.

I love gingerbread. Why hadn't I thought of this before?

I wonder what other spices work well in hot cereal.

Like Christmas

On Wednesday, I received a package in the mail. It was a medium-sized box, but it was heavier than it looked. I was on my way to work, so I brought the box with me to the car. Finally, at a stop light, I opened up the top with my house key. Inside, it was like Christmas: five hardcover cookbooks.

I have a huge collection of cookbooks. This probably comes as no surprise, considering how much I love food and cooking. But when I go to friends' homes or look around the houses I work in, I find that most people have maybe a handful of cookbooks that fit neatly in a small space in the kitchen. In comparison, I have a small, three-shelf bookcase that holds something like 36 books. That's not too many, is it? (And that's not including the few I managed to purge out and am trying to sell on Amazon — plus the ones I just got!)

A few weeks ago, I received an ad for a cookbook book club, which offered four books for fifty cents a pop. Fifty cents! All I had to commit to was a purchase of three more books in the next two years. I decided to take advantage of their "buy your first book now" deal, which came at half the price. So for about $35, or the cost of one hardcover cookbook, I got five. Am I the only one who finds this an incredibly awesome deal?

As for those two other books I'm supposed to buy? I've already ordered one more.