April 2003 Archives
I made Italian dressing last night with the Penzey's spice mix I had purchased quite a while back and Todd and I were both pleasantly surprised. We usually like to make our own vinaigrette with mustard, salt, pepper, whatever vinegar sounds good at the moment and olive oil (I have some lemon olive oil and some basil olive oil that are so fresh tasting and nice to use).
I made Italian dressing last night with the Penzey's spice mix I had purchased quite a while back and Todd and I were both pleasantly surprised. We usually like to make our own vinaigrette with mustard, salt, pepper, whatever vinegar sounds good at the moment and olive oil (I have some lemon olive oil and some basil olive oil that are so fresh tasting and nice to use).
Pizza dough is one of my favorite things to make. I'm still intimidated by yeast, but pizza dough seems so forgiving: the flat, thin final shape solves my main breadmaking problem, which is that the dough flattens out in the oven instead of holding the shape I made it and rising upward. I know I could solve that problem with a breadpan, but I like the freedom of a free-form loaf. Anyway, the pizza dough:
Pizza dough is one of my favorite things to make. I'm still intimidated by yeast, but pizza dough seems so forgiving: the flat, thin final shape solves my main breadmaking problem, which is that the dough flattens out in the oven instead of holding the shape I made it and rising upward. I know I could solve that problem with a breadpan, but I like the freedom of a free-form loaf. Anyway, the pizza dough:
Last night I made a dish that's becoming an old standby. I like the sear/braise combo with single-serving pieces of meat because I feel safe that they won't dry out and become tough, but they will be cooked through.
I'm not sure if I can really call it a braise if it's cooking in the liquid for less than an hour, but it seems like the easiest way to describe the technique. Last night it was pork chops (about an inch thick, no bone just because that's what was on sale). I seasoned them on both sides, then browned them for three minutes on each side, took them out of the pan, added 1/2 cup white wine, a heaping tablespoon mustard and about a 5-second drizzle of honey, mixed it up and scraped up the yummy brown stuff on the bottom of the pan, bubbled that down for a few minutes, then added the pork to it, closed the lid, and let it simmer for 12 minutes, turning the pork halfway through. (Why do I feel the need to get the whole recipe out in one sentence?) Then I served the sauce on top. I sliced up and toasted some bread and topped it with the leftover bean-tomato mixture from the night before.
These are Todd's favorite kind of meals: a piece of meat, a veggie and a starch. I find them kind of boring (although the above comes out great; tender and sweet with some bite from the mustard). He hates casseroles (he does make an exception for enchilada casserole, but I don't have an old-standby recipe for that).
Last night I made a dish that's becoming an old standby. I like the sear/braise combo with single-serving pieces of meat because I feel safe that they won't dry out and become tough, but they will be cooked through.
I'm not sure if I can really call it a braise if it's cooking in the liquid for less than an hour, but it seems like the easiest way to describe the technique. Last night it was pork chops (about an inch thick, no bone just because that's what was on sale). I seasoned them on both sides, then browned them for three minutes on each side, took them out of the pan, added 1/2 cup white wine, a heaping tablespoon mustard and about a 5-second drizzle of honey, mixed it up and scraped up the yummy brown stuff on the bottom of the pan, bubbled that down for a few minutes, then added the pork to it, closed the lid, and let it simmer for 12 minutes, turning the pork halfway through. (Why do I feel the need to get the whole recipe out in one sentence?) Then I served the sauce on top. I sliced up and toasted some bread and topped it with the leftover bean-tomato mixture from the night before.
These are Todd's favorite kind of meals: a piece of meat, a veggie and a starch. I find them kind of boring (although the above comes out great; tender and sweet with some bite from the mustard). He hates casseroles (he does make an exception for enchilada casserole, but I don't have an old-standby recipe for that).
I had some friends over for dinner last night. I had to work and then one of the guests was coming home with me, so I made something pretty simple that I had made before: crostini with white beans and tomatoes, chicken breasts braised in white wine, green beans, and s'mores for dessert (that way I didn't have to make dessert at all).
I had some friends over for dinner last night. I had to work and then one of the guests was coming home with me, so I made something pretty simple that I had made before: crostini with white beans and tomatoes, chicken breasts braised in white wine, green beans, and s'mores for dessert (that way I didn't have to make dessert at all).
I haven't done too much cooking lately; Todd and I have been on the road. We drove up to Ottawa for a long weekend to see the Edward Burtynsky retrospective at the National Gallery of Canada. (Which was fantastic and worth the seven-plus hour drive.)
Since we're not big restaurant spenders and Ottawa is not exactly considered a culinary mecca, my food highlights were modest (but delicious):
I haven't done too much cooking lately; Todd and I have been on the road. We drove up to Ottawa for a long weekend to see the Edward Burtynsky retrospective at the National Gallery of Canada. (Which was fantastic and worth the seven-plus hour drive.)
Since we're not big restaurant spenders and Ottawa is not exactly considered a culinary mecca, my food highlights were modest (but delicious):
I had the prettiest little dinner last night (my last night of a long stretch of dinner alone). I sliced up a small yellow squash lengthwise, blanched some green beans and sugar snap peas, and hard-boiled an egg that I sliced in quarters lengthwise. Arranged on a plate squash-beans-egg slices-peas with a little dipping cup of aioli (garlic mayonnaise, which I bought fresh at the Amish Market, which does not seem to really be Amish) and some hard, thin breadsticks.
Made me wish Todd didn't carry his camera with him everywhere. The green and yellow were so bright I would've liked to take a picture. Some prosciutto would have been nice, too.
I had the prettiest little dinner last night (my last night of a long stretch of dinner alone). I sliced up a small yellow squash lengthwise, blanched some green beans and sugar snap peas, and hard-boiled an egg that I sliced in quarters lengthwise. Arranged on a plate squash-beans-egg slices-peas with a little dipping cup of aioli (garlic mayonnaise, which I bought fresh at the Amish Market, which does not seem to really be Amish) and some hard, thin breadsticks.
Made me wish Todd didn't carry his camera with him everywhere. The green and yellow were so bright I would've liked to take a picture. Some prosciutto would have been nice, too.
Another night without Todd. He's back from Minnesota but now he has class. In fact, we figured out last night that he won't be home for dinner for another week (next Friday will be the first time). Saturday was his last meal at home, so he's going to be going on about two weeks without a homecooked meal. He doesn't seem to mind. Should I take it personally?
I had a small fillet of some type of fish left over from making the fresh cod cakes (the fishmonger didn't have cod and so suggested a suitable substitute, then proceeded to give me too much of it). I bought a small head of radicchio, tossed it with sugar and salt, sauteed it in some butter, then put the fillet on top, put the lid on the pan and left it to steam. When it was finished cooking, I topped the fish with some leftover fig & olive tapenade. The fig in the tapenade went a ways to counter the bitterness of the radicchio, but not far enough for me. I think the radicchio needed more butter, sugar or maybe a little lemon juice to counter the bitter flavor. Maybe more cooking time. Me and my thoroughly American palate.
Another night without Todd. He's back from Minnesota but now he has class. In fact, we figured out last night that he won't be home for dinner for another week (next Friday will be the first time). Saturday was his last meal at home, so he's going to be going on about two weeks without a homecooked meal. He doesn't seem to mind. Should I take it personally?
I had a small fillet of some type of fish left over from making the fresh cod cakes (the fishmonger didn't have cod and so suggested a suitable substitute, then proceeded to give me too much of it). I bought a small head of radicchio, tossed it with sugar and salt, sauteed it in some butter, then put the fillet on top, put the lid on the pan and left it to steam. When it was finished cooking, I topped the fish with some leftover fig & olive tapenade. The fig in the tapenade went a ways to counter the bitterness of the radicchio, but not far enough for me. I think the radicchio needed more butter, sugar or maybe a little lemon juice to counter the bitter flavor. Maybe more cooking time. Me and my thoroughly American palate.
I made pasta salad Tuesday night (another night alone; Todd has a busy week). Lots of leftovers, so we both took some to work for lunch on Wednesday. I wasn't going to write it up, but Todd raved so much about it last night that I thought I'd share:
Boil up some mini tortellini. While that's cooking, chop roasted red and yellow peppers (I had some left over from a steam-table lunch the other day when my eyes were way too big for my stomach), cooked ham, scallions, and artichoke hearts (I used unmarinated; I find the marinade overwhelming). Make a vinaigrette in the bottom of a big bowl, and then toss everything together in it. Easy, makes a lot, and I think it was better the second day. We used to eat pasta salad all the time when we were newly married and really poor. Maybe Todd's raving was nostalgia.
Of course, this could go in any direction: Greek, with feta, olives, oregano; antipasto, with diced salami, marinated veggies and cheese; nicoise, with olives, tuna, green beans, red onion; southwestern with diced cheddar, scallions, cilantro, chicken, cumin. I think you'd have to vary the type of pasta you used.
I made pasta salad Tuesday night (another night alone; Todd has a busy week). Lots of leftovers, so we both took some to work for lunch on Wednesday. I wasn't going to write it up, but Todd raved so much about it last night that I thought I'd share:
Boil up some mini tortellini. While that's cooking, chop roasted red and yellow peppers (I had some left over from a steam-table lunch the other day when my eyes were way too big for my stomach), cooked ham, scallions, and artichoke hearts (I used unmarinated; I find the marinade overwhelming). Make a vinaigrette in the bottom of a big bowl, and then toss everything together in it. Easy, makes a lot, and I think it was better the second day. We used to eat pasta salad all the time when we were newly married and really poor. Maybe Todd's raving was nostalgia.
Of course, this could go in any direction: Greek, with feta, olives, oregano; antipasto, with diced salami, marinated veggies and cheese; nicoise, with olives, tuna, green beans, red onion; southwestern with diced cheddar, scallions, cilantro, chicken, cumin. I think you'd have to vary the type of pasta you used.
Last night I was all alone again, so I made spoonbread, something I always wanted to try but that Todd would say was not "real food." I've never had it so I don't know if I got the right texture, but I can't imagine what texture would be better than the creamy, fluffy softness I ate for dinner. Every bite I changed my mind: egg dish? cornbread? The diced ham had infused it all with a faint salty smokiness and the scallions added a bite that kept the whole dish balanced. And it was easy to make a large serving for one:
Soak 1/4 cup cornmeal in 1/3 cup water in a saucepan for 5 minutes, then add another 1/3 cup water and cook over medium heat for 2 minutes, until it starts to thicken, stirring frequently. In a separate bowl, mix together 1 egg, 1/3 cup buttermilk (my usual substitute is a mixture of nonfat plain yogurt and milk), salt, pepper, a heaping tablespoon freshly shredded Parmesan, and diced scallion and cooked ham. Add that to the cornmeal mixture. I baked it in a deep oven-safe bowl at 350 degrees for about 45 minutes (the recipe said 30, but I kept going until the center was set; when I took it out mine was still slightly jiggly but firm when I touched it). This would be a fun brunch dish, with smaller individual servings made in oven-safe mugs (as the recipe, which I took copious liberties with, suggested). The cookbook, Little Meals, recommended sauteed apple slices as a side, but I ate my apple fresh.
Last night I was all alone again, so I made spoonbread, something I always wanted to try but that Todd would say was not "real food." I've never had it so I don't know if I got the right texture, but I can't imagine what texture would be better than the creamy, fluffy softness I ate for dinner. Every bite I changed my mind: egg dish? cornbread? The diced ham had infused it all with a faint salty smokiness and the scallions added a bite that kept the whole dish balanced. And it was easy to make a large serving for one:
Soak 1/4 cup cornmeal in 1/3 cup water in a saucepan for 5 minutes, then add another 1/3 cup water and cook over medium heat for 2 minutes, until it starts to thicken, stirring frequently. In a separate bowl, mix together 1 egg, 1/3 cup buttermilk (my usual substitute is a mixture of nonfat plain yogurt and milk), salt, pepper, a heaping tablespoon freshly shredded Parmesan, and diced scallion and cooked ham. Add that to the cornmeal mixture. I baked it in a deep oven-safe bowl at 350 degrees for about 45 minutes (the recipe said 30, but I kept going until the center was set; when I took it out mine was still slightly jiggly but firm when I touched it). This would be a fun brunch dish, with smaller individual servings made in oven-safe mugs (as the recipe, which I took copious liberties with, suggested). The cookbook, Little Meals, recommended sauteed apple slices as a side, but I ate my apple fresh.
I subscribed to Gourmet about 6 months ago and have become a bit disillusioned with it after trying a few recipes that have come out pretty bland. I made fresh cod cakes from the Gourmet Everyday column last night and was disappointed. I think it may be my fault, though. My parents followed the Pritikin diet when I was a child, which was low-sodium among other things, so I'm very stingy with the salt (out of habit, not some attempt to be healthy). I also tend to cook things from the Everyday column since the recipes are less ambitious; I wonder if that has influenced my experience for ill.
Some of my favorite recipes from Epicurious, I just realized, are from Gourmet (Bulgur "Risotto" with Spinach and Bacon, Chocolate-Dipped Coconut Macaroons), and I do have one keeper from my subscription (Cincinnati-Style Chili), so maybe I'm writing it off too soon. Perhaps I've just made some bad recipe choices. I'm going to eat the leftover cod cakes on a roll with some lettuce and mango chutney, which I bet will salvage them.
I subscribed to Gourmet about 6 months ago and have become a bit disillusioned with it after trying a few recipes that have come out pretty bland. I made fresh cod cakes from the Gourmet Everyday column last night and was disappointed. I think it may be my fault, though. My parents followed the Pritikin diet when I was a child, which was low-sodium among other things, so I'm very stingy with the salt (out of habit, not some attempt to be healthy). I also tend to cook things from the Everyday column since the recipes are less ambitious; I wonder if that has influenced my experience for ill.
Some of my favorite recipes from Epicurious, I just realized, are from Gourmet (Bulgur "Risotto" with Spinach and Bacon, Chocolate-Dipped Coconut Macaroons), and I do have one keeper from my subscription (Cincinnati-Style Chili), so maybe I'm writing it off too soon. Perhaps I've just made some bad recipe choices. I'm going to eat the leftover cod cakes on a roll with some lettuce and mango chutney, which I bet will salvage them.
Friday we had soup weather here in New York, so I pulled out a recipe that I've made before: Baked Potato Soup. (Yesterday and today, though, have been beautiful. Yesterday we went to an afternoon Yankees game--my first time at Yankee stadium--and it was pouring rain all morning but had cleared up beautifully by afternoon. And the Yankees won 5-4 against Tampa. The hot dogs were exquisite, but the pretzels were basically bread with a lot of surface area.)
Anyway, Friday's soup: I baked 2 potatoes in the microwave since I just discarded the skins anyway, and mashed them up roughly with a fork. Then I scattered 1/3 cup flour in the bottom of my Dutch oven and slowly whisked in 3 cups milk (no heat). Then I turned on the burner to medium and cooked until the milk started to thicken (less than 10 minutes), stirring. Add the potatoes, season with salt and pepper, then add about 1/2 cup shredded Cheddar cheese, finely chopped scallion and diced ham. Top each bowl with more chopped scallion and shredded cheese. Pretty simple. (You won't find much complex cooking here.) It gets very thick, especially the leftovers, which end up the texture of twice-baked potato filling.
Todd has left for Minnesota, so I get to make whatever I want for dinner (I'd rather he were here, though). Tonight it's fresh cod cakes, then tomorrow I'm going to try spoonbread with ham (this Little Meals cookbook instructs you to bake the spoonbread in large mugs, which I thought was cute but can't do because I don't have any mugs that size).
Friday we had soup weather here in New York, so I pulled out a recipe that I've made before: Baked Potato Soup. (Yesterday and today, though, have been beautiful. Yesterday we went to an afternoon Yankees game--my first time at Yankee stadium--and it was pouring rain all morning but had cleared up beautifully by afternoon. And the Yankees won 5-4 against Tampa. The hot dogs were exquisite, but the pretzels were basically bread with a lot of surface area.)
Anyway, Friday's soup: I baked 2 potatoes in the microwave since I just discarded the skins anyway, and mashed them up roughly with a fork. Then I scattered 1/3 cup flour in the bottom of my Dutch oven and slowly whisked in 3 cups milk (no heat). Then I turned on the burner to medium and cooked until the milk started to thicken (less than 10 minutes), stirring. Add the potatoes, season with salt and pepper, then add about 1/2 cup shredded Cheddar cheese, finely chopped scallion and diced ham. Top each bowl with more chopped scallion and shredded cheese. Pretty simple. (You won't find much complex cooking here.) It gets very thick, especially the leftovers, which end up the texture of twice-baked potato filling.
Todd has left for Minnesota, so I get to make whatever I want for dinner (I'd rather he were here, though). Tonight it's fresh cod cakes, then tomorrow I'm going to try spoonbread with ham (this Little Meals cookbook instructs you to bake the spoonbread in large mugs, which I thought was cute but can't do because I don't have any mugs that size).
I always have this problem: I plan to make something, then I decide not to cook, or a friend wants to have dinner, or Todd's home, and the recipe keeps getting pushed off until it's a week later and the vegetables are getting flabby. But I finally made the noodles with peanut sauce on Wednesday night, and it was great.
I always have this problem: I plan to make something, then I decide not to cook, or a friend wants to have dinner, or Todd's home, and the recipe keeps getting pushed off until it's a week later and the vegetables are getting flabby. But I finally made the noodles with peanut sauce on Wednesday night, and it was great.
Have you ever gone to the market with a list and a plan, only to find that the main event is not available? I wanted to roast a pork tenderloin on Sunday, but couldn't find one. The butchers at the markets in my area seem to get knife-happy with this cut and slice it up into chops as soon as it arrives. So I didn't have a pork tenderloin. I did, however, have a chunk of pork loin that had such an odd collection of bones in it that it is impossible for me to identify. Seemed like a good braising candidate, though.
Have you ever gone to the market with a list and a plan, only to find that the main event is not available? I wanted to roast a pork tenderloin on Sunday, but couldn't find one. The butchers at the markets in my area seem to get knife-happy with this cut and slice it up into chops as soon as it arrives. So I didn't have a pork tenderloin. I did, however, have a chunk of pork loin that had such an odd collection of bones in it that it is impossible for me to identify. Seemed like a good braising candidate, though.
I went shopping this weekend and bought a couple of books that are relevant to these pages: Salt, a World History and What Einstein Told His Cook. (I also bought a belted knit top, a pair of pants and a light dress to celebrate the advent of spring--I should have bought earmuffs instead.)
I've started reading the Einstein book, which was written by Washington Post columnist Robert Wolke. The book follows a basic formula: A reader poses a question, and Wolke answers it by simplifying the science so it's understandable to a layperson. He's already answered two things I've wondered about in the last week: Is hominy really soaked in lye, and why are the fleshes of different animals different textures and colors? Alton Brown-type stuff, with recipes. It's an interesting book, and one I'm planning to keep as a reference at work.
So ask me a sciency-type food-related question, and I'll see if the answer is in the book.
I went shopping this weekend and bought a couple of books that are relevant to these pages: Salt, a World History and What Einstein Told His Cook. (I also bought a belted knit top, a pair of pants and a light dress to celebrate the advent of spring--I should have bought earmuffs instead.)
I've started reading the Einstein book, which was written by Washington Post columnist Robert Wolke. The book follows a basic formula: A reader poses a question, and Wolke answers it by simplifying the science so it's understandable to a layperson. He's already answered two things I've wondered about in the last week: Is hominy really soaked in lye, and why are the fleshes of different animals different textures and colors? Alton Brown-type stuff, with recipes. It's an interesting book, and one I'm planning to keep as a reference at work.
So ask me a sciency-type food-related question, and I'll see if the answer is in the book.
I hope it doesn't embarrass my mom if I say that she didn't do much cooking from scratch when I was growing up (neither did my dad, although he could make a mean Bisquick breakfast). One thing we often had was tacos, made with ground beef, preshredded cheese, store-bought shells and one of those taco seasoning packets.
I'm not saying I went out and bought a tortilla press or anything, but I decided to reproduce the seasoning packet experience from the spices I have in my kitchen. I also substituted store-bought flour tortillas for the hard taco shells we used to have. If I had felt more ambitious last night I could have fried my own corn tortillas (which I've seen Cooks Illustrated do) and made my own pico de gallo, but I was trying to work with what I had on hand.
Simple meal, really. I used ground chuck, sauteed it, salted it, then transferred it to a paper towel lined bowl to drain the fat. I wiped the skillet out and toasted my preground cumin, cayenne and ancho chili pepper. Then I added the ground beef and some water (like you do with the seasoning packet), then simmered it for a while to meld the spices and get a saucy but thick texture. Served on flour tortillas with shredded cheese and lettuce and some salsa (we used Muir Glenn Organic, which has a nice little punch of lime juice). Not sophisticated, but Todd was pleased (it had beef in it).
Next I want to try to recreate my mom's lemon cheesecake bars with a crumble topping, which uses a lemon cake mix as the base, without the cake mix. (I made a batch with the original recipe last week when I first ran across it again and found that they're addictive to me in some sort of pre-formative sense. I crave them in a way I can feel bodily.)
I hope it doesn't embarrass my mom if I say that she didn't do much cooking from scratch when I was growing up (neither did my dad, although he could make a mean Bisquick breakfast). One thing we often had was tacos, made with ground beef, preshredded cheese, store-bought shells and one of those taco seasoning packets.
I'm not saying I went out and bought a tortilla press or anything, but I decided to reproduce the seasoning packet experience from the spices I have in my kitchen. I also substituted store-bought flour tortillas for the hard taco shells we used to have. If I had felt more ambitious last night I could have fried my own corn tortillas (which I've seen Cooks Illustrated do) and made my own pico de gallo, but I was trying to work with what I had on hand.
Simple meal, really. I used ground chuck, sauteed it, salted it, then transferred it to a paper towel lined bowl to drain the fat. I wiped the skillet out and toasted my preground cumin, cayenne and ancho chili pepper. Then I added the ground beef and some water (like you do with the seasoning packet), then simmered it for a while to meld the spices and get a saucy but thick texture. Served on flour tortillas with shredded cheese and lettuce and some salsa (we used Muir Glenn Organic, which has a nice little punch of lime juice). Not sophisticated, but Todd was pleased (it had beef in it).
Next I want to try to recreate my mom's lemon cheesecake bars with a crumble topping, which uses a lemon cake mix as the base, without the cake mix. (I made a batch with the original recipe last week when I first ran across it again and found that they're addictive to me in some sort of pre-formative sense. I crave them in a way I can feel bodily.)
OK, I am inspired by all of you bloggers. Inspired and determined to record
my own culinary adventures. I am of a peculiar brand of food enthusiast,
though. Not the kind who tries the same recipe over and over again, honing
it to perfection. Rather, I never make the same thing twice. I have a huge
binder full of recipes that I have cut out or printed out and have never
tried. Planning a meal sends me into a state of anxiety not because I have
no options, but because I have too many options, every one of them new to
me.
Frankly, I think it drives my husband crazy. He's the kind of guy who orders
the same thing at his favorite restaurants every time we go there. Steak and
fries at Steak Frites. A fried chicken sandwich at U.J.'s Diner. Ham steak
and eggs at Austin Street. Whenever I ask him what we should make for
dinner, he answers "taco salad" (Fritos covered in beans, ground meat,
lettuce, cheese, etc). After 7 years of marriage, it's kind of a joke (the
kind of joke that can send me into a screaming fit; see above anxiety). I
think it's because I view every mealtime as an opportunity to eat something
great and can be depressed for hours when a meal is mediocre. But I'm not a
food snob. A cheesesteak from B.B.'s or a slice of greasy pizzeria
pizza can leave me quite content. Last night's pleasant repast was toasted
rosemary bread with fig-and-olive tapenade and an orange.
I can't do meals like that often, though, since my husband, Todd, is a big
guy (tea- or tapas-type meals are not real meals). He's picky, too: no
squash of any kind, mushrooms, corn off the cob, tofu, eggplant, kumquats,
fruit with meat, things in his rice, casseroles. . . you get the idea. He's
in business school part time, though, so on Wednesday and Thursday nights,
when he has class, it's all about me (and only about me, which can be
challenging, too, cooking for one).
Tonight I'll make somen noodles with snow peas and peanut sauce. I have yet
to find the perfect peanut sauce; tonight I'll try one I found in a book
called Little Meals. Haven't decided whether to add some shrimp. I know
chicken's the usual meat for that dish, but I'm kind of anti-chicken right
now. I just can't stand the sight of those bloated breasts in the
supermarket. Maybe there is something to be said for organic.
OK, I am inspired by all of you bloggers. Inspired and determined to record
my own culinary adventures. I am of a peculiar brand of food enthusiast,
though. Not the kind who tries the same recipe over and over again, honing
it to perfection. Rather, I never make the same thing twice. I have a huge
binder full of recipes that I have cut out or printed out and have never
tried. Planning a meal sends me into a state of anxiety not because I have
no options, but because I have too many options, every one of them new to
me.
Frankly, I think it drives my husband crazy. He's the kind of guy who orders
the same thing at his favorite restaurants every time we go there. Steak and
fries at Steak Frites. A fried chicken sandwich at U.J.'s Diner. Ham steak
and eggs at Austin Street. Whenever I ask him what we should make for
dinner, he answers "taco salad" (Fritos covered in beans, ground meat,
lettuce, cheese, etc). After 7 years of marriage, it's kind of a joke (the
kind of joke that can send me into a screaming fit; see above anxiety). I
think it's because I view every mealtime as an opportunity to eat something
great and can be depressed for hours when a meal is mediocre. But I'm not a
food snob. A cheesesteak from B.B.'s or a slice of greasy pizzeria
pizza can leave me quite content. Last night's pleasant repast was toasted
rosemary bread with fig-and-olive tapenade and an orange.
I can't do meals like that often, though, since my husband, Todd, is a big
guy (tea- or tapas-type meals are not real meals). He's picky, too: no
squash of any kind, mushrooms, corn off the cob, tofu, eggplant, kumquats,
fruit with meat, things in his rice, casseroles. . . you get the idea. He's
in business school part time, though, so on Wednesday and Thursday nights,
when he has class, it's all about me (and only about me, which can be
challenging, too, cooking for one).
Tonight I'll make somen noodles with snow peas and peanut sauce. I have yet
to find the perfect peanut sauce; tonight I'll try one I found in a book
called Little Meals. Haven't decided whether to add some shrimp. I know
chicken's the usual meat for that dish, but I'm kind of anti-chicken right
now. I just can't stand the sight of those bloated breasts in the
supermarket. Maybe there is something to be said for organic.
