Bad Ideas

Though I have greatly improved as a cook over the past couple of years, I still royally screw up a recipe now and then. I find it frustrating when people say they can't cook - of course you can! Follow a recipe! If you can read, you can cook. Such smugness has come back to haunt me when I follow a recipe to a T, or, worse yet, when I try to "customize" it to my own tastes, and end up with barely edible mush.

Since acquiring a dutch oven for Christmas, my stew-and-braise finger (hand?) has been itchy. Last weekend, for its inaugural run, we made beef stew from a Barefoot Contessa recipe. The resulting flavors were suitably deep and nuanced, the texture palatable, the leftovers short-lived. Bursting with dutch oven-related confidence, and in possession of a whole chicken, I took to the Internet for a recipe that married the two. I chose "French Chicken in a Pot," found in the Lubbock Avalanche-Journal, originally from Cook's Illustrated. What could go wrong?

In a word, my judgment. This fuck-up was all me.

This simple recipe calls for browning the chicken in olive oil with onions, celery and a bay leaf, then cooking it in a low oven for an hour or two, depending on the size of the bird. Two things were the crux of this recipe's downfall. One, I think I miscalculated the size of the chicken. I'd bought it at what can charitably be described as a meat free-for-all the weekend before. My receipt listed two chickens totaling about six pounds. In my fantasy world, this means the chickens weighed three pounds each. A three pound bird was supposed to cook for an hour. After an hour, the bird was still rare. And for some reason, rare chicken hasn't quite caught on yet here in the States. I left it in for another 20 minutes... then another 20... then another! Two hours in, the chicken was barely done. Even if the bird was bigger than three pounds, this still didn't make sense, as the recipe called for a 4-5 pound chicken to cook for two hours.

Crux of the downfall part two: I put POTATOES in the pot. Back in my fantasy world, I see the chicken and potatoes hanging out like best buds (or best spuds?!?!), cooking in harmony until it is time for them to take a wild ride to my stomach. What I didn't bank on was more stuff in the pot = longer cooking time. Even worse than waiting an extra hour for dinner is when that dinner emerges from the oven soggy, flavorless and gamey. The potatoes created so much steam in the pot, the chicken was basically soaked, the skin gray and floppy. Heueueueu. We ate it, but it was not pleasant.

The saving grace of the evening was discovering this tiny green bean on the cutting board.

Oh Brother

Last post: June 1
Today's date: November 13
Me: useless

Even though I am the only person who reads this (not false modesty; if I knew how to prove such things via technology, I would), I am annoyed at letting V&V lapse for so long, if only because it is one of few diversions I have that doesn't involve television, mind-altering substances or buying new clothes (number of garbage bags filled with clothes that I am going to "get rid of" sitting in the corner of my room right now: five?) Seeing as I have recently taken steps to chip away at my lazy and apathetic nature, perhaps I can recommit myself to writing at least a little something 2-5x/wk (and only in abbreviation form.) Summer was a bit rough, psychologically, and just a moment ago I was actually stunned to look out my front window and see the tree in our courtyard was completely orange instead of the green that it would be if I were to think about it without looking at it. The weather has been mostly mild, allowing me to ignore the fact that grey winter is imminent.

What inspired me this morning was eating some leftover spring rolls I'd picked up yesterday at Nhu Lan bakery here in Lincoln Square. I'm a fan of Vietnamese food in general, but until recently hadn't revisited their sandwich offerings, which are worthy. Growing up, my best friend lived near "Little Saigon" (I don't think anyone actually calls it that), a strip of Vietnamese and Chinese restaurants and groceries on Argyle Street. Her Chinese mother would often bring us intimidating, unfamiliar treats from these shops. One that always stood out in my mind was a Banh Mi, a Vietnamese sandwich of various meats, topped with carrots, daikon radish, cilantro, hot peppers and mayonnaise on french bread. One often finds pork belly or pork pate on these sandwiches. So, my first time eating one of these (10 years old?) was a mindfuck indeed. It contained familiar elements - french bread, mayo, carrots - and foreign elements, like all the other stuff. It tasted good but it also tasted really weird! The meat was heady and, to my young olfactory system, had a guttural or even garbage-y smell.

Jump to 2010. I start reading LTH Forum, the Chicago food-lovers' message board, with some regularity. Nhu Lan is a recipient of their "Great Neighborhood Restaurant" award for its delicious food and miser-friendly price point. And it's four blocks from my house. Working from home one day, I decide to revisit the Banh Mi that had perplexed me as a child. And I'm so glad I did. Though I am not brave enough to try the headcheese and ham combo (yet), the pork belly and pate hit the spot. It was a big, awesome sandwich, with just the right balance of salt, sweet and heat. And it's only $3.25! (cue swelling violins and birds gently tweeting)

Yesterday was another work from home day, which I think might now just be called Nhu Lan day. I went and got my sammich, but wanted to try another offering, so I grabbed a three-pack of (giant) spring rolls - one each of shrimp, pork and tofu, with a side of peanut sauce - even though I am rightly wary of such pre-packaged offerings. My fears were baseless this time. They were fresh and very, very tasty. I ate half of each spring roll in addition to my big awesome sandwich, then lolled around in a food haze for the rest of the afternoon. The spring rolls were $4.50, and I ate the rest of them for breakfast today, still as crisp and delicious as yesterday, with a cup of coffee (or half coffee-half soy milk, as coffee seems to make me extra dehydrated and jittery these days, boo hoo.)

I have a Nhu appreciation for Vietnamese food! And I would be remiss in not mentioning that Nhu Lan is steps away from the greatest grocery store in the history of the world, HarvesTime. The 2600 block of Lawrence Avenue brings shine to a street that, I have posited, is mostly crappy no matter which neighborhood through which it runs, bar a few great restaurants.

In other food-related events, a group of fine friends went to a local chain last night for my sister's birthday. The food was remarkable only in its expense ($10 for a side of sauteed spinach? I could make ten pounds of sauteed spinach for that price), but the drinks were flowing and, late in the meal, A. noticed that the table next to us had left half a bottle of white wine chilling within reach (when I say "had left," I mean that the party was long gone.) In his buzzed state he reached over and poured some into his own wine glass, in full view of about five bus boys and servers. A few minutes later an obsequious manager approaches him and says, "Excuse me sir, but I was told that this is not your wine," to which A. responded "Oh!" The manager grabbed the wine and asked if he needed any water - bit of a dick move. We were all stunned and highly amused. As one of the last tables in the dining room, one might think that we would have hightailed it out of embarrassment, but no! We stayed, ordered dessert, and talked loudly about the ridiculousness of the situation. Even though the staff looked like they wanted to murder us by the end of the night, a good time was had by all.

So... lazy...

My stars, has it really been over a month? So much has changed since Tuesday, May 11, 2010 at 9:42 a.m. I didn't realize it then, but that was the greatest time of my life (or not. Please, make it 'not.')

I must say that not too much cookin' has gone down in the intervening days. I was out of town almost every weekend in May and the first weekend in June, leaving me gasping for normalcy during the weeks. Apart from that, I seem to have fallen into a weekday austerity/weekend gluttony cycle that is best served by soups, sandwiches and salads (austere) and pizzas, Thai food and wings (gluttonous), which are, respectively, prepared with little fanfare or ordered out.

The things I did make, I photographed. Herewith, a collection of some things that I have made and consumed as of late:

Roasted vegetable sandwiches with mozzarella and balsamic dressing

"Mmmmm. Mmmm, mmmm, mmmm, mmmm... mmmm!" - Bob Wiley

The first time I made these I stupidly wasted time trying to 'grill' the vegetables on a indoor electric grill that probably couldn't melt a drinking straw. This time I fired up the old brain cells and decided to use the broiler. First, the red and yellow peppers get the de-skinning treatment: broil until skin is a good deal charred. Place peppers in tightly sealed zip-top bag for 15 minutes; the condensation will help the skin loosen and after that you should be able to peel it off easily. Lesson learned: err on the 'more broiling' side for the best chance of easy skin removal.

Had to re-broil these, sheesh.

You could use any sort of watery veg you want for this; I used red and yellow bell peppers, green zucchini and baby eggplant. Cut the zucchini and eggplant lengthwise, in slices about 1/2 inch thick. Lay them out on your broiler pan and give them 3-4 minutes a side, checking after the first go-around to make sure they're cooked to your liking. I like them quite limp. The sweet, watery taste of broiled zucchini is something special.

To assemble, I splashed a bit of balsamic vinegar on lightly toasted polish rye; layered a mix of vegetables and a couple of slices of fresh mozzarella on top. I microwaved this for about 30-45 seconds to melt the cheese. If you're fancier than me (I suspect most people aren't), you could stick it in a low oven for about 10 minutes, or even better, a toaster oven on 'melt this delicious cheese' setting!

I think I also threw some baby spinach on there for crunch. Arugula or any other flavorful green would work great.

In less successful attempts, I found myself with a surplus of grape tomatoes that were about to turn. Various people on Chowhound recommended making 'oven-dried tomatoes' - cut the GTs in half lengthwise, spread evenly on a cookie sheet, and cook in a low oven (200F) for at least two hours, until the tomatoes are wrinkly, but not burned.

I might have had the oven up too high, or just forgot about them (how could that have happened? The smell of slow-roasting tomatoes [and garlic, of which I also threw some in to roast - seize the opportunity to make roasted garlic, I say] filled the house and it was absolutely seductive) but about half the tomatoes turned out dry and brown. The ones that didn't were very, very tasty and I would recommend this to anyone who likes sun-dried tomatoes, has too many tomatoes, or enjoys intoxicating food smells.

Finally, my friends, I made a lasagna this past weekend. My go-to is my mom's pesto lasagna, but this was being made based on a special request - that request specifying MEAT lasagna - and so I took to the Internet in search of a meaty recipe. I settled on this Turkey Sausage-Spinach Lasagna with Spicy Tomato Sauce from Bon Appétit. It was quite good, though time-intensive, as it calls for making the sauce from scratch (a 90-minute process). I used regular beef/pork Italian sausage. The meat itself turned out dry, which was surprising as there was enough liquid in this lasagna to quench a powerful thirst - in fact, you don't even need to pre-boil the noodles - there's so much liquid they cook inside the lasagna! Maybe they hogged the tomato liquid and absorbed the sausage liquid as well - parasitic noodles. Ah well. Lasagna, like pizza, is never truly bad, only less good.


Is there a more glorious sight in this world than the browned edge of a lasagna?

Rainy Day Remedy

When your day looks off to a bad start, Poached Eggs on an English Muffin may provide a temporary boost. Ask your doctor about Poached Eggs on an English Muffin. Side effects may include brown tomatoes, spinach, and seeing how big of a bite you can take at once.

Seriously, these brown tomatoes are the business. Definitely the most flavorful you can find this time of year. This time of year being the time in early May when it's 45 degrees and raining.

Food on the Page

Of all the things I loved about the Carson McCullers biography The Lonely Hunter, one passage made me giggle, retch and realize that her whims and oddities inhabited the kitchen as much as they did her notoriously well-appointed bedrooms:

… to cap the night’s activities, a pregnant cat had slipped unbidden into the house and given birth to a half-dozen kittens downstairs. Undisturbed by the clutter in the house which greeted her, Carson volunteered that she would be very comfortable sharing the bed with the litter of kittens…

Ah, wait, this isn’t the place for my cat and clutter fancy. That actually comes right before the relevant part, which is this:

Carson suggested that they go out immediately and rent bicycles so that they might ride to the beach and stores. Soon they were cycling about the island shopping for food, liquor and flowers. Carson also bought flowered paper curtains for the windows, and red-and-white checkered oilcloth and candles for the table. “We’re going to eat fancy,” she said. If Carson had ever played the role of kitchen prima donna in the past, it was abandoned that night and for the duration of her stay. She cooked more during her month at Nantucket than she had cooked since the early days of her marriage. Among her culinary skills that summer were homemade mayonnaise, which she admitted was really her mother’s speciality, clam chowder, canned green pea soup enlivened with small chunks of wieners, and a unique dish which she labeled “spuds Carson,” made with creamed potatoes, ripe olives, minced onions and grated cheese.

Uff da! To be fair, if I were imbibing a few tumblers of whiskey per day, I might come up with something similarly misguided. In fact, I don’t need whiskey to get lost in the kitchen.

Another delightful bio of sorts, Patti Smith’s Just Kids, described a tasty little breakfast:

I rolled out of bed and noticed it was late. I raced through my morning ritual, going around the corner to the Moroccan bakery, grabbing a crusty roll, a sprig of fresh mint, and some anchovies. I came back and boiled water, stuffing the pot with mint. I poured olive oil in the open roll, rinsed the anchovies, and laid them inside, sprinkling in some cayenne pepper. I poured a glass of tea and thought better of wearing my shirt, knowing that I’d get olive oil on the front of it.

Turning the time machine way back, this passage from Don Quixote got my mouth watering:

“…But all of this in due course; look and see if you have anything to eat in those saddlebags, and then we shall go in search of a castle where we can stay the night and prepare the balm I told you of, because I swear before God that my ear is hurting a good deal.”
“I have here an onion, and a little cheese, and I don’t know how many crusts of bread,” said Sancho, “but these are not victuals suitable for a knight as valiant as your grace.”

Assuming there was crusty bread and cheese widely available, I think I might have been able to pull through in 16th century Spain, even if I had all the looks and none of the strength of Dulcinea of Toboso. Even the raw onion sounds good.

Raspberry Custard Cake

Here's a mind-bogglingly easy recipe for a delicious and bountiful cake, care of one of my favorite food bloggers, Liz over at Gastronomy Domine. I made it as a last-minute contribution to a weeknight dinner party - the trick custard lent me some baking credibility that I desperately needed.

Here's what you need:

1 box Duncan Hines yellow cake mix
3-4 cups raspberries, slightly macerated or chopped
1 cup white sugar
1 pint heavy whipping cream

Here's what you do:

Preheat the oven to 350F.

Prepare the cake according to directions and pour into a greased and floured 9x13 dish (glass or metal will do fine.) Evenly distribute the raspberries over the top; they should stay put on the surface of the cake batter. Sprinkle the raspberries with sugar. Slowly pour over this one pint of whipping cream, making sure to cover the entire surface. Bake for one hour, testing for doneness after 50 minutes using a skewer inserted into the center.

Now, what happens is that the raspberries and cream sink to the bottom while the cake is cooking, creating a wonderfully moist, custard-like consistency. I'd been considering making a Tres Leches cake, but due to lack of time and experience I thought better of it (I had about two hours between getting home from work and having to leave for the party.) As you can see, the preparation for this cake takes about five minutes.

The original recipe calls for four cups of raspberries, but I only used three, which seemed sufficient (though an extra cup of raspberry goodness would not have gone unappreciated.) Also, instead of fresh, I used frozen raspberries that were pre-sweetened, so I omitted the sugar, and I don't think the cake suffered at all for it. It was quite a hit, and I told anyone who would listen how easy it was. Cue the blank stares...

For those who cringe at using a boxed cake mix: feel free to make your own yellow cake from scratch. Liz's recipe called for Duncan Hines specifically, after which she waxed rhapsodic about it and told of leaving room in her suitcase to bring a few boxes home from her trips to the US. Baking is my weakest culinary skill by far, so I didn't want to tempt the inedible cake gods by trying to whip up my own on a whim.

Who can argue with this?

Florida Food

In chronological order:

Turkey sandwich on Italian bread with mayo, tomato and red onion;
Wavy chips;
Dill potato salad;
Lazy salad with arugula, roasted sweet potatoes, rotisserie chicken, goat cheese and honey mustard vinaigrette (this was a big hit, and in retrospect is not for the strictly lazy);
Garlic bread;
2 poached eggs, potatoes, turkey sausage, English muffin;
Tenderloin fillets with Bearnaise sauce, roasted asparagus, garlic roasted potatoes;
Strawberry-Rhubarb crumble with vanilla ice cream;
English muffin with peanut butter, honey and blackberries;
White cheddar popcorn;
Chicken salad (mayo, green grapes, pecans and tarragon) sandwich on Publix 'White Mountain Bread' (extraordinarily soft and malleable) with tomato;
More wavy chips;
Pan-fried grouper with lemon and homemade tartar sauce, leftover roasted potatoes, steamed French beans;
Diet coke and M&Ms;
Leftover Strawberry-Rhubarb crumble;
English muffin with peanut butter, honey and blackberries;
Spring rolls with vermicelli, shrimp, mint and carrots;
Wonton soup (or in my case, Wanton - hey-ooo!);
Bún with grilled curry chicken, pork egg rolls, vermicelli, cucumber, carrots, lettuce, bean sprouts and fish sauce;

To be continued. Now, I must attend to my sangria.