Pequena Cocina

Camera Lost

2009-12-25T17:24:00.001-08:00

No New Posts until mid-to-late February. BOOOOOOO.

:(

Dejected Bread Given Garlic Cure

2009-11-30T15:15:00.000-08:00

How large is YOUR ass after Thanksgiving? This year was somewhat manageable for me, since I didn't host. A big shout out to Jim and Cristin for having me and The Republican over with Miss Thang and Mr. Ink.

I absolutely love boulé and sourdough bread, the big crusty loaves you can get from Whole Paycheck or Iggy's or where have you. Because I can never eat them by myself before they get crustified and dry, I usually save them for Houseguests. This weekend such a loaf found its way to my abode for the making of Leftover Turkey Sammiches (toasted sourdough, smashed fresh avocado, homemade honey mustard, Ink's leftover turkey, and super sharp cheddar...drool).

Turkey's gone. Bread is in sad shape. I've got a pot of veggie-white bean soup that I need to eat but damn it, its boring, even though I included radishes in it. Solution: Supah Dupah Garlic Croutons. I've never made croutons before and they're just coming out of the oven in batches now (of course I am plucking them out individually as they brown to perfection-- my pan was crowded and the bread not perfectly sized. Normally I HATE the nasty, dried out boogers that people inexplicably buy at the store and prefer to have good ones from real restaurants (Travato's in Omaha, NE, comes to mind--they used to cube and deep fat fry their leftover Italian bread. Awesome). The Tindallator's mother also fries them on the stovetop in BUTTER but as you know, baking is easier for me at the moment.

My method:
Cut bread into cubes, crush 4-6 cloves of garlic into about 1/4 cup of olive oil. Add a nice big fat pinch of salt, some Cubeb pepper, and crushed red pepper.

Transfer bread to large bowl, drizzle garlic-oil mixtures over bread, and stir with hands (this is not a first-date friendly recipe). Spread on pan, bake @ 400 - 425, and remove croutons with tongs as they finish.

I'm going to use these babies on the soup I have, then the rest on a salad this weekend.

Let's eat one...

I KNEW THERE WAS A REASON I DID THIS. HELL YEAH.

Except I am not allowed to make out with anyone for at least 24 hours.

We Are Experiencing Technical Difficulties

2009-11-18T16:48:00.000-08:00

Or, in other words, an entry that actually addresses some limitations, and how I’ve had to work around them, and what I plan to do to further improve the functionality of the Hobbit Hole Kitchen. I haven’t done this much yet other that to bitch about the Taco Debacle.

Cooking: Outfitted with an Aroma two-burner electric hotplate and a Breville convection oven, I’ve managed to do pretty well—it IS just me, most of the time. The area most affected by my lack of a “real” stove is the hotplate sitch. A lot of my cooking has traditionally involved a lot of searing and sautéing at very high temps, as well as deglazing and boiling large amounts of liquid. The large burner on the Aroma, measuring about 7” in diameter, takes about 20 minutes to boil water for pasta (and you know me, I ain’t boiling 2 measly liters, I’m going to boil 6 to 8 liters with lots of sea salt). Keeping my large All-Clad chef’s pan as hot as it needs to —just doesn’t happen. This really isn’t a huge problem, since I’m no longer searing two 10 ounce rib eyes at a time. However, it’s pretty much impossible to start water boiling, and also start something else, such as a sauté, or anything that needs to be cooked at the same time.

Insert Giant Kitchen Time Suck.

I did a little research on that interweb thingie and came across induction burners. I’m drooling over this one. I am admittedly very limited when it comes to comprehending the physics of the heat transfer involved in induction heating, but I do know that it
a) works real darn fast (faster than gas)
b) is cooler and much more energy efficient than electric or gas and
c) doesn’t work with crapola pots and pans (i.e, pans made with cheaper alloys...thankfully most of my pans are high quality enough to pass the test, with the exception of my two saucepans, which I need to replace anyway)

I also “need” a smaller All-Clad saute pan. So, for in order for the $80 investment of a new induction burner to be “worth it”, I’ll also have to buy at least one saucepan and one saute pan. I’m really looking at a total cost upwards of $250-300.

Reheating

1. I don't have a microwave.
2. I cook in regular-size batches and freeze portions of soup, pasta sauce, and stews.
3. I eat leftovers religiously.

And HOW do I deal with reheating / eating leftovers?

Prolly the best decision I made was to invest in a slew of Pyrex glass containers with plastic lids. Initially I switched from plastic leftover Gladware containers (that would be reheated) to glass so that I wouldn't have toxic-god-knows-what-side-effect-this-could-have-on-my-chances-of-rectal-cancer side effects (and those of you still microwaving in plastic, shame on you).

These little guys allow me to freeze, thaw, and reheat. Badda-bing. The Breville has an awesome reheat setting. Home from gym, pop in a portion of veggie lasagna, shower, and dinner is done. Yeah, it takes longer. But if I plan, I'm cool. Microwaving food makes it taste like ass, anyway, in my opinion.

So all of this to say... I'm basically just going what our grandmothers did for cooking. Planning, reheating without microwaves, and planning a bit. It really isn't that hard.

I'll letcha all know when I finally join the Induction Club.

OK kids, that's all for now. I just made some homemade black refried beans, finished with melted butter. I promise somethin' more fun later. Oh, and I was able to find the most bomb-ass lard-filled homemade tortillas in Custer, SD. Who knew.

Gringaladas

2009-11-05T23:33:00.000-08:00

My immune system is winning. Seven hours ago I had a fever, aches, headache, and that horrible feeling of a lurking imminent snot -fest in my sinuses. Now, at two-thirty in the morning, I feel like a million dollahs. OK, maybe 500K. But I think that my Monthly Trip To Maine will be ensuing, full steam ahead!

So nothing spectacular for this post: just the process of Gringa-ladas, the enchilada recipe I've been developing over the last year and half or so. I've got another post to write that actually focuses on small cooking and what I've had to do to change my kitchen habits, but that's not as much fun right now. Next time.

Sauce makes a dish, of that we are all certain. This dish has stretched out into nearly five hours from start to finish, but is starting to be worth it (ask The Pole, Miss Thang, or Mr. Bacon). This time I made the sauce the night before (smart girl) so that my guests wouldn't be forced to chew their hands in hunger-induced desperation.

Step one: Buy a whole chicken and about 3 bone-in chicken thighs, preferably from Mayflower Poultry, though a Kosher or organic one from Whole Paycheck will do. Hack chicken into 8 pieces, and remove skin from all parts, including the thighs. Trim visible fat. Feed cat scraps of raw chicken.

Dry chicken parts and proceed to rub in salt, white pepper, and ground cumin (preferably from Morocco or Israel, I've had only these varieties in the last year—SO spoiled). Now, you're going to let that chicken warm up on the counter. You'll want it to sit at room temperature for about a half hour to an hour. If anything I've learned, it's not to try and sear cold meat. Gross, you say, you'll get salmonella. I think not. That chicken is going to have the shit cooked out of it, I promise. You'll be fine. Plus, if you're avoiding nasty Perdue / Shaw's / Market Basket Antibiotic-Flavored chicken, your chance for the runs decreases considerably:

Meanwhile, prep aromatics: 2 diced yellow onions, half a bulb of garlic, minced, and in this case, reconstituted chipotle peppers, and cumin seed. Sometimes if I have fresh jalapeno I'll use that too. However, dried peppers are key.

Open Rogue Dead Guy Ale and clean up chicken-dissecting cutting board and knives. Line up the 4-7 spices you feel like using for sauce.

Open a can of 365 brand crushed tomatoes, and get some chix stock simmering on hotplate.

Step two: Bring about 4 TBL canola or corn oil to a purdy shimmering sheen and begin to sear chicken in batches in pot. Make sure that chicken is getting really dark. As pieces finish, put in warm oven in dish to catch juices, etc. This step will ensure that your studio apartment begins to smell like a very greasy taqueria. Olé!

When all chicken is seared, the bottom of your pan should resemble a wasteland of very dark chicken scraps and oil. This is OK, you vant dis, very very much:

Dump in the onions and cumin seed ONLY at this point. The steam and liquid of the fresh onion will soften the burned bits. Scrape up the bits with a flat-head wooden spoon, stirring the onions often; the cumin seeds will being to soften.

After a few minutes, add the chipotle pepper and the garlic and let go for a few more, stirring a few times. At this point, I add more chile powder(s) and cumin. I really can't tell you how much or what kind--though I do know that it's more than you'd think it is. Stir some more. Add the chicken and accumulated juices next, and stir well.

After another minute or three, add tomatoes, stock, and a large pinch of sugar. What you've got now are 11 pieces of bone-in chicken in a cozy bath of spices, aromatic, tomatoes, and stock. Bring this to a boil, then cover and simmer, covered, for, oh... about two hours. Yup, two hours. Clean up kitchen and do some laundry.

Step 3: When you reach in to pick up a piece of chicken with tongs and it is literally falling off the bone, you've hit it. Remove the chicken to a large plate and keep sauce on simmer, covered. When you can handle the chicken without burning yourself and swearing, pull off the bone and shred using your fingers or two forks. Toss the bones into a pie plate and throw them into a 425 oven. Yup, you're going to roast those fuckers. It wasn't good enough that they took a bath, they are going to make a little extra sauce for us. After they're dark, throw them in a pot with some water and bring to a boil for about a half hour. Strain this and add back to the sauce. Then, use immersion blender to puree sauce:
This will break down all the little chicken shreds into the sauce, a very good thing.

At this point, either cool sauce and refrigerate with chicken and pass out in Cumin-Scented bed, or proceed to

Step 4: A word about queso. I stopped using Monterey Jack or "Mexican" blends of cheese a while ago, as they're super greasy, salty, and all but hide the hard work I've done on the sauce. I now use a queso fresco and some other cheese, whatever happens to look good at Market Basket that day. This time I used:

Dice a WHITE onion very fine and open some corn tortillas. Some assembly required:

I used to fry the tortillas in hot oil and roll each enchilada. No more, amigo. I found that frying them just makes for an uber-greasy dish, and that everything falls apart when baked, so that the rolling is a waste of my time. Here I trade presentation for speed. Yeah, I know. That's why they are called GRINGladas. You're going to make a sort of pseudo-Mexican lasagna: spoon sauce into bottom of casserole, place on layer of tortillas, overlapping, then some chicken, onion, and cheese, and more sauce. Repeat until that casserole is full and happy. Top with cilantro and bake, uncovered, at 350 for about 45 minutes.

Serve with various fun things your guests can sprinkle on top: diced jalapeno, sliced scallions, lime wedges, chopped cilantro, and, most fun: authentic crema (you'll never use sour cream again. oh my. it's lovely. just ask R.).

So there you have it. Now back to bed for me.

A Word About Comfort

2009-10-27T15:56:00.000-07:00

Tonight I'm back from an event in NYC, 24 hours there and back, running all day and 3 hours of sleep. I also feel like the moron who was coughing WITHOUT COVERING HIS MOUTH behind me on the shuttle flight has successfully infected me with his funk. I'm beyond sleep deprived.

I only wanted one thing tonight when I got home: my comfort meal that I never cook for anyone else. It's a more sophisticated riff on mac and cheese, fish sticks, and peas. In other words, school lunch for rainy days. It's fatty, garlicky, filling, and hot as hell. I like to fancy that it'll burn our all of the germs currently congregating in my sinuses and throat.

Toss into oven: Trader Joe's Breaded Tilapia fillet. These are the bomb: they come three to a box, are under 300 calories, individually sealed (which makes my toes curl in food-preservation delight) and are like fish sticks but crispier, less greasy, and not very salty.

Prepare thin spaghetti and ready a bowl with unsalted butter, EVOO, a shitload of red crushed pepper, freshly ground black pepper, two to three crushed garlic cloves.

Drop hot pasta directly into bowl; the hot water renders the garlic and mellows it a bit.

Toss, coating pasta, and then shake in a generous helping of Pecorino Romano (I prefer Romano most of the time to Parm, which I find to be sorta... timid).

In strainer, dip some frozen peas (ginormous bag at Market Basket for $1.49) into hot pasta water for 30 seconds or so to thaw and toss with finished pasta.

Look at plate and realize you are glutton and will never be able to prepare a "healthy" portion of pasta. Rip into plate in sleep-deprived haze of starvation. Warm lovely feeling fills you as you stumble along writing your boring blog post and peace out to sleep.

Night night.

OK OK. Size DOES Matter.

2009-10-20T15:27:00.000-07:00

Again, I've been remiss. Can I blame it on a missing USB cord that I found only when cleaning / reorganizing on Sunday? No? OK.

The Friday before last I decided to have an impromptu taco party. I can make tacos with my eyes shut and one hand tied behind my back, right? No biggie, just some chopping, sautee, whatevs. Plus, The Tindallator was going to help me.

After a trip to Whole Paycheck and an oh-shit moment where I realized my apartment was a mess, I began by making guac and salsa. A LOT. Which was a good thing, because my poor guests, who arrived at 8 as instructed, didn't get to eat until nearly 11:00. Why? How 'bout I just phrase it in the following NO TO DO LIST:

1. DO NOT attempt to saute lots of items in a small amount of time on two burners, one of which is actually usable for high-heat cooking.

2. DO NOT add rice with chorizo, toasted pine nuts and carrot to the menu last minute even it if is simple. It's still several steps: saute separately: chorizo; onion and carrot; garlic, bring stock to a boil, mix rice, sauteed items; bake for 45 minutes*. Now is not the time for innovation.

3. DO NOT drink excessively while cooking. This is an oldie but a goodie. Slainte! Sucker, you burned yourself again, didn't you?

4. DO NOT attempt to revive frozen corn tortillas by steaming them. They will fall apart into an defeated mess that you will have to guiltily throw away (ahem, Miss Thang).

5. DO NOT not assume that COOKING ANYTHING will be as easy as in a Normal Kitchen. EVER.

My sincerely apologizes to the friends that had to witness this COOKING FAIL. I got my just deserves the next morning, hungover and scraping avocado and hot sauce off the pretty bamboo floor.

* But it was pretty good. I think I found my first next dish to improve. "Mexican" or "Spanish" rice usually sucks, even at better restaurants. It's just... salty, orange rice only good for scraping up the rest of the grease on your plate. This was an improvement).

A few more tidbits:

Today I hit up the Siena Farms stand at the Copley Market: beautiful broccoli, brussels sprouts, carrots, and radishes for Vegetable Only Dinner. I like to do this about once a week: three or four steamed vegetables, no salt, no butter, etc. Plus, their produce is so flavorful that it's nice to enjoy it naked. Like other things in life.

My worries about whether I can bake in the Breville have all but disappeared. It's better than a full-size oven for almost everything. Then again, I haven't used a full size convection oven yet, but I've heard it is glorious.

The first loaf of homemade bread I made in my new place was the Honey Buttermilk Bread from The Bread Bible, a bomb-ass baking book. I'd forgotten how meditative and soothing the whole process is: mixing, kneading, waiting for the first rise, second rise, baking, cooling, and tasting--a long process that anchors me while I trifle around with laundry, cleaning the shower, answering emails, etc. Sadly, I was a lazy ass and didn't take pictures of Bread Sunday, but I do have half-eaten evidence.

I swear to god that I have eaten half and there's still enough left to hide my head behind. Well, almost.

I think this is against the blog rules, by the way. Showing my picture and all to the world.

No, that's not me. I actually look just like Paris Hilton.

Gastronome d'Ikea

2009-10-07T20:10:00.000-07:00

Yeah, I don't know if that's really French—in fact, I'm sure it is NOT. Sue me. I'm learning Spanish.

This post has nothing to do with anything really, other than the regrettable fact that I could not sleep AGAIN last night and was on the Ikea website, among other, ahem, less reputable sites. Since I've moved into a studio apartment and have become obsessed with buying more crap to organize my smaller collection of crap, I've been dabbling in late-night Ikea porn. Don't worry, I clear my internet history.

I have solid evidence that the entire... experience... of Ikea is the epitome of slack-jawed American consumerism, despite its sleeker packaging and suspiciously socialist tinge.

First of all, the absolute furious clusterfuck existent in the parking lot, particularly on Sunday afternoons in September, is a shining example of North American laziness, overcrowding, and downright competition regarding parking spaces.

Secondly, Ikea has trampled the long-standing Target-$60-Rule. Perhaps you're not aware that was actually a tariff signed into legislation by the FCC and Congress, but you'll nod with recognition, based solely on the bill's title. No American adult can leave Target without purchasing a minimum of $60 USD retail value goods (90% disposable, 10% durable). Ikea laughs derisively: the current average bill of an average Ikea shopping outing tops well over $150 USD, "as is" furniture non-withstanding. Help the economy! Just like Georgie told us to!

Third, Ikea recognized the absolute house-of-cards willpower the average American has against a cafeteria promising $6 plates of "meat"balls and all-you-can-swill, HFCS-loaded Lingonberry "juice". Let's face it. We all go to Ikea with secret hopes that we'll be hungry, and that our shopping companion is starving / is hungover / has PMS / has no taste buds / is brain dead and has not short term memory enough to agree to venture to the Ikea cafeteria to indulge in fast food dressed up as--I'm not sure--healthier? tastier? chic-er? than Burger King, Arbys, or Au Bon Pain.

Since you're going to do it anyway, here's a quick guide to about the most or least adventageous time(s) to submit to your Dirty Ikea Food Craving:

Pre-shopping. This method is sure to strip all of your dignity and energy, no matter if you'd run a 10K beforehand and done some volunteer work for homeless children. You trot in, fresh from dodging cars in aforementioned clusterfuck parking lot. Smelling cinnamon rolls and gliding up the escalator, you think, "Wow, what a great way to start a day of hell—inhaling some tasteless food I neither need nor really want." After eating, you have no defenses to the lure of Swedish-designed plastic housewares. I pity you. However, if your "quick trip" (you are now shuffling along like a stoned zombie) stretches into Eternal Afternoon, you do have the comfort of knowing that there are many, many bathrooms for your now-certain use. If only you could find your way to the ground floor.

Mid-Shopping. This method is sure to cause arguments, fistfights, catfights, divorce, and high-intensity irritation. It's related to the sense of failure one has when they're almost ready to leave (and go pluck their 130-lb dresser box from ready-to-assemble) and are lured into the cafeteria. "Perhaps, perhaps I'll just grab a coffee. And maybe a slice of Alondkonnenen Caken. And some chicken strips, I'm trying to eat more protein." I pity you. After you load your car, slowed and sedated by lunch, you'll have to double back to the bathrooms.

Post-Shopping. This method may prove to be the least painful overall, and may help numb the pain you just experienced at the checkout from the sans-lube wallet-raping you just enjoyed. At this point, what the hell. Order one of everything. Shit, order two. Get the gravy. Extra gravy. However, be warned that this method usually entails a very, very anxious drive home with you praying you can make it to your bathroom "in time".

Not a Method But Worth A Mention. As a parting shot, Ikea offers the 50-cent Ikea Farewell Hot Dog. Like a stealth missile from Sweden, it slides directly into you mouth, gone before you even fumble for keys while wheeling your crap around in circles in parking garage. It's a dirty trick. I pity you.

Bon Appetit!

MIA and MIA

2009-10-06T18:26:00.000-07:00

Why hello there. Yes, I suck. I am lame. I have not updated. Sorry. Between a weekend of houseguest and party, and a weekend of social stuff and Maine, I have been... lacking. This'll be a mishmash of random shite.

Let's see.

Stock making. For the first time ever (due to Miss Thang's advice) I chose to roast the bones from the Molested Chicken before making stock. An extra step, but OH. SO. WORTH. IT.

Before:

After:

As everything is sized down--the bones from the chicken (shreds were used for Mediterranean chix salad) and a couple of sad-looking onions and celery that were close to fermentation in my fridge—so I only ended up making about 4 cups total. Very concentrated, deep amber, full of fat (I rarely skim it, must keep booty at full size. Gots to represent Big Irish Asses).

In other news, I had a housewarming-my-good-friend-is-visiting-come-see-my-new-pad partay last last weekend. I proved that YES you can fit 15+ people in my place without discomfort. The key? Good food, lots of bellinis, lots of beer from Cambridge Brewing Company, and lots of Italian red from Trader Joe's.

Here was the spread. Most of it disappeared.

A word about sandwiches, made with "baguette" (or whatever the grocery stores are passing off as such): this tip from Miss Thang, and dammit, it works. OK. So, you have a sandwich. The bread is important to a point. But what I really want to feel close to, to be intimate with, is the guts of the matter. Miss Thang, on our Free Friday trip to Singing Beach this summer, made roasted portabello sammiches. They were the frickin bomb, and that wasn't just the Pims Cups talking. Her trick? Rip out the soft, overly-filling guts of the sandwiches and toast what's left, and cool, prior to sandwich building. The result? Crispy bread, emphasis on fillings, and no overload on bread.

I made Ultimate BLTs (applewood smoked bacon, crisp; pounded chicken seared in said bacon fat; homemade honey mustard; heirloom tomatoes, romaine, and red onion) and Caprese (fresh mozz; pesto; beefsteaks; more romaine). Note to self: next time, regardless of vegetarian friends, stick with more meat-based sandwiches. The carnivorous side comes out when people are inebriated.

Last but definitely not least, Granola.

Those who know me know I don't buy cereal. At least, I haven't bought it since I started making my own granola about 2 years ago. It's healthy and cheap, and stores well. I'd run out tonight, and needed to make another "batch". This term used to mean two cookie sheets full of granola (7 cups oats and other stuff). Well, now I'm down to 2.5 cups oats, 1/2 each oat bran and wheat germ, and 1/3 cup each canola and maple syrup.

Again, the Breville performed wonderfully. The convection action improved on my method, which is really about dehydrating the granola instead of baking it. When the heat is too high, it gets dark quickly but stays raw tasting. Likewise, I add the nuts 30 minutes in, before I turn up the heat for browning--otherwise you can end up with bitter burned nuts. Ha. I said nuts. 3 times.

Turned out great. And this size makes approximately 8 servings for me, lasting over two weeks for breakfast if I intersperse with peanut butter toast.

OH. And MIA and MIA? So I am old and lame. And just discovered the singer, MIA, this last week. Hot damn. I'm in love.

Latah.

7 A. M. Chicken Molestation

2009-09-19T11:00:00.001-07:00

Me, bleary-eyed and re-re at 7 a.m.: rubbing down a fleshy roaster from Mayflower Poultry with lemon zest, garlic, butter, olive oil, salt and Cubeb pepper--and shoving the lemon up its ass--the idea being it would soak up all this lovely flavor in preparation for the trial run of roasting in the Breville oven (my friend Anna likes to call it my Easy Bake).

This was slightly reminiscent of many Thanksgiving mornings where I (with my mom, Anna, or alone) wrestled with a defenseless looking bird before breakfast and general conscious thought.

Mmmmmmmmmmmm, chicken ass.

When I received the Breville, I was mostly soothed by the fact I would still be able to roast a whole chicken. I do a chicken once a month of so--it's healthy, versatile, allows for feeding friends cheaply, and I can use the bones to make stock.

Breville performed amazingly, even thought I was a dumbass and lowered the heat 20 minutes in, and even though I cooked it upside down (I do this to keep breast moist). Next time I will turn the bird halfway through, keep heat @ 425.

Other dinner items: my buttermilk biscuits, steamed broccoli, and cucumber-tomato salad with shallot, white balsamic, and sumac (courtesy of Eyal, straight from Israel). I had my first table-set dinner, with the lovely company of Tindallator, Adriene, and Katie. Twas a late night.

A word about chicken. I can't bring myself to buy the terrifying, hormone-laded crap available at most grocery stores anymore, and I can't afford Whole Paycheck's prices.

I get my chickens (and hearts and livers to supplement my cat's diet with raw food) at Mayflower Poultry, located in East Cambridge. My friend Sarah says their chicken (available whole or in any cut you might want) is the most "chickeny" chicken she's tasted, and she's right. The stuff is dead fresh, due to the fact that they slaughter ON SITE, I believe about 3x a week. According to the very helpful guys who work there, the chickens are hormone and antibiotic free (I'm assuming NOT free range). If you live in Cambridge or Somerville, get your ass over there and pick some up. If parking is a problem, you can call 10 minutes ahead and they'll have it ready for you to drop in and pick up in flash. Oh, and their prices? CHEAP.

Bugkok!

Smaller and Healthier

2009-09-14T17:30:00.000-07:00

I’ve been in my new apartment for roughly 2 1/2 weeks, and while I still have piles of clothes (NEAT piles, I might add), my kitchen has been set up and I’m actually cooking with the hot plate and the Breville oven. I’m not sure where to start with this--cause I’ve noticed a few major changes in my shopping and eating patterns--but I’ll use tonight as an example.

Menu @ Chez Talcott: Trader Jihad’s Mini Cheese Ravioli with Roasted Grape Tomatoes and Green Olive Tapenade. (A side note about the Mini Cheese Ravioli--initially I thought the idea of dried, filled pasta to be about as appetizing as dehydrated Olive Garden crap--but they are really good, particularly used in pasta salads. Trick is to cook them enough).

Aight. So, I knew I was going to have the pasta--purchased this tapenade--though I want to make my own soon--they are so versatile. When I was putting away my groceries, I noticed that I had some slowly-shrinking grape tomatoes. F***. I hate forgetting about produce and wasting it. Make me feel very un-American. What to do-- a quick bit of research--roast tomatoes that are ugly, shriveled, or just plain tasteless and vile. A new staple for me. They are popping and toasting in the Breville as I write this.

So, the Smaller: I have so little space in my fridge that I really really know what I have (oh, and what a lovely virgin fridge it is). Leftovers, half-used produce and other items that like to hide in dark corners and sprout mold--they can’t hide from me anymore.

Healthier: Goes hand and hand with the smaller, so far--I’m eating everything and eating more simple food--veggies prepared simply, and not much meat at all. Sadly, I’m reluctant to cook bacon in my place to avoid making everything smell like it for days. I’ll probably give in when I make buttermilk green chile cornbread in the cast iron skillet.

Also--I love pasta, and it loves to make my ass expand. Very nice of it to do so, but I have to reign it in (the expansion, that is). So, the deal with myself is that I can eat it in reasonable portions, as long there is lots of protein or extra veggies mixed in.

Another note--I’m really thinking about what I buy and if I’ll eat it, etc. I used to do huge shopping trips whenever Sarah could take me--being more than a 25 minute from a crapola grocery store made me overstock. Now I have the luxury of being a quick bike ride or walk to the Harvest Coop, Whole Paycheck, Market Basket, just to name a few.

Must stir pasta. Verdict on tomatoes roasted tomatoes in a bit.

Tomatoes: Very good. A little charred, and some juiced cooked out. Mixed the whole mess together with pasta and tapenade, and some Romano. Sweetness of tomatoes offset the bitter green olives. SCORE!

IPA PTSD

2009-09-12T07:33:00.000-07:00

Why, IPAs, why? Why must you be so good going down, and so bad the next day? Can't we stop this dysfunctional cycle? Really, if we can't work this out, we're going to have to to couples' therapy.

ANYWAY.

Now installed in ma hood; moving and settling sucked all time and motivation away from me these last few weeks (with the exception of chillin' in Maine w / Meks and Bove). But I'm back with a vengeance, MF.

Apples and Oranges. Let me give you a visual of the 16 x 20 kitchen I once had in Dorchestah:

Note: Dishwasher, copious amounts of counterspace and cabinets, windows, pot rack, room for a table, etc. And people. And a STOVE / OVEN combo.

Hobbit hole kitchen:

Hobbit Hole Dining:

Hobbit Hole "STOVE":

The following have been vanquished to The Mexican's basement:

12 Muffin pan
Quarter Sheet Pans
Springform Pans
Imitation Le Creuset POS IKEA thing that I hate anyway
Turkey Roaster (used mostly for beef tenderloins overnighted to me from Nebraska--thanks Dad!)
9 x 11 Baking pans
Stockpot Colander
Monster Cooling Rack
Tortilla Press (sorry Kezia)
Egg Poacher
16" Nonstick Skillet
Spaceship-looking Cake Saver Necessary Evil Thing

RIP, guys.

And eggs DO help an IPA morning.

Secret Aardvark Trafficking Has Green Light

2009-08-23T16:21:00.000-07:00

Canned beans and tortillas live in excess in my pantry—my friend Kezia says I am one-third Mexican at heart. It's a comparison I'm happy to accept. Authentic Mexican food / Green-Chile-based Northern New Mexican Food / Tex Mex Slop—as you will learn—are my absolute favorite types of cuisine. Spicy, fresh, hearty, and ridiculously cheap and easy.

Hence, operation Tostada Night is in full effect: 3 corn tortillas, sprayed with canola and baked 8 minutes at 425; homemade refritos with some queso fresca, Chobani greek yogurt (screw sour cream, Chobani has become a ridiculously versatle staple in my kitchen, replacing sour cream, mayo, and even buttermilk)—cleaning out even more space in my refrigerator. Damn, do I feel frugal. And yes, I ate THREE tostadas.

Tonight I used up the last of my beloved and selectively used Secret Aardvark hot sauce. I discovered this on a trip in 2007 at a cafe in Portland, OR—Jam on Hawthorne—brought back a bottle—this spring, a kind colleague at Bob's Red Mill (also in Portland) took pity on me and sent me another after learning of my utter obsession.

However, I found out tonight that I can order the stuff, FINALLY online, score! I'm terrified of possible Aardvark Overdose.

People. If you like to burn your mouth in the most pleasant way possible, I urge you to try this ass-kicking nectar. It has a very complex, sweet, fresh taste at the front (roasted peppers and tomatoes, carrots, vinegar) and a mouth-coating slow fire after you swallow.

Oh. And it's hot as balls again here in Boston. Fitting.

The Depahhhtted

2009-08-21T11:46:00.000-07:00

It's hot as balls.

Today is day 1 of Mission Downsize Apartment. I'm having a yahd sale tomarrah. Too bad I don't still smoke, I could wear curlers in my hair and a housecoat and some slippers for an authentic Dorchester experience.

Anyway, two goals: 1. remove useless, ugly, or redundant kitchen schtuff to yard sale shelves and 2) eat through my freezer before I move.

The Rejects, to the left.

(Don't ever buy a $10 Mandoline at Target. It IS too good to be true.)

My meal: Luksasowa Polish Vodka and pineapple juice, such a classy choice—make that klassy with a "k"—and some beef-barley-mushroom strew I made earlier in the spring (beef and marrow courtesy of the cows from Wheelview Farms in Sturbridge, MA). Stew eaten at 90+ degrees quite good but increases perspiration, by, oh about a million times.

Hobbit Hole, Here I Come

2009-08-20T17:56:00.000-07:00

For years my friends have been telling me to start a food blog. I cook them fairly tasty things and they know I love doing it, and I can do it better than a lot of people, because I do it a lot. Practice makes perfect pizza crust, sheeit.

However, I never really felt like what I'd post about my own cooking would be that interesting to anyone who wasn't filling their stomachs with my finished product. Who the fuck wants to read about my blabbing on about my enchilada sauce (use a fresh Mayflower Poultry whole chicken, spiced, seared, and cooked in San Marzano tomatoes and 3 kinds of chiles)? See what I mean? What good does that do you unless you're stuffing your face with it? I can write recipes on an index card any ol' time.

Now I'm pretty sure I have a somewhat reason to write about how food and cooking in my life are going to change dramatically: I am moving from my current 1100 square foot apartment in Dorchestah to a 350 square foot basement studio in The People's Republic of Cambridge.

A 350 square foot studio apartment WITHOUT A STOVE.

Friends have cringed, wrinkled their brows, or just plain gaped at me when I tell them about this "one small thing" about an otherwise amazing place.

I'm going from a 16 x 14 eat-in kitchen equipped with a killer gas stove, dishwasher, disposal, pantry, copius counter and cabinet space, 3 windows and a back porch to a shiny new kitchen "area" with a small fridge, tabletop dual burners and a countertop convection oven--about the size of a new microwave. Gulp.

Possibly as part of a way to deal with my anxiety over how I'll deal in my new kitchen, I'm gonna chronicle the transition. I must admit though—I am more excited and curious than apprehensive—this will be a challenge for me as a cook, as an eater, and as a hostess.

I'll learn new culinary tricks, ideas, and probably host some major shitshows. I might end up eating a healthier diet—unless I fall into the trap of making meals out of some expensive cheese purchased from Whole Paycheck on my way home (I'm going to pass it EVERY DAY! I MUST institute a once-a-week visit rule, or I will end up large or broke or both). You know what I really think? I'm a good cook. I love food. I'll deal.

Jump down the hobbit hole with me. I promise to feed you something tiny and delectable.