November 2003 Archives

The food story in tomorrow's New York Times magazine is about how chefs come up with specials, and it's really all the same things you always hear (which means it must be true): what's seasonal, available; happy delivery mistakes; and the one that can make you believe you shouldn't order the pot pie or soup special, because the chef's trying to pull a fast one on you by using up what didn't sell yesterday or the day before and calling it "special."

But that last one, and our empty refrigerator, made me realize something about myself: Given an empty refrigerator, my options of what to fix are only limited by what I can think up and afford, and that paralyzes me. I pile up cookbooks and food magazines on the sofa next to me and start flipping through them, stacking them up, open and facedown. Then I start going through a second time to make a list, and decide that what I have chosen isn't interesting enough, substantial enough, "fall" enough, healthy enough. I really go nuts. I guess that probably says a lot about me.

But I do thrive on a produce drawer full of wilting greens and aging carrots, three-week-old gouda in the fridge, bones in the freezer, sprouting potatoes in the bin. I'm a pantry-forager, a scavenger. I'm inspired by what we have left, what we need to use before it goes bad, like chefs in the old days with their specials. But I think it's kind of like a sonnet: Rules and boundaries and restrictions take away some of your decisions, which gives you freedom to focus on the others, and come up with something truly spectacular. A few generations ago they did that out of necessity, to save money, which I still find can be a good reason for it.

I have a coworker who always goes to her brother's for Thanksgiving, so the next day she and her husband roast their own turkey because they want to have the leftovers. I love that. Maybe next year I'll do it.

The food story in tomorrow's New York Times magazine is about how chefs come up with specials, and it's really all the same things you always hear (which means it must be true): what's seasonal, available; happy delivery mistakes; and the one that can make you believe you shouldn't order the pot pie or soup special, because the chef's trying to pull a fast one on you by using up what didn't sell yesterday or the day before and calling it "special."

But that last one, and our empty refrigerator, made me realize something about myself: Given an empty refrigerator, my options of what to fix are only limited by what I can think up and afford, and that paralyzes me. I pile up cookbooks and food magazines on the sofa next to me and start flipping through them, stacking them up, open and facedown. Then I start going through a second time to make a list, and decide that what I have chosen isn't interesting enough, substantial enough, "fall" enough, healthy enough. I really go nuts. I guess that probably says a lot about me.

But I do thrive on a produce drawer full of wilting greens and aging carrots, three-week-old gouda in the fridge, bones in the freezer, sprouting potatoes in the bin. I'm a pantry-forager, a scavenger. I'm inspired by what we have left, what we need to use before it goes bad, like chefs in the old days with their specials. But I think it's kind of like a sonnet: Rules and boundaries and restrictions take away some of your decisions, which gives you freedom to focus on the others, and come up with something truly spectacular. A few generations ago they did that out of necessity, to save money, which I still find can be a good reason for it.

I have a coworker who always goes to her brother's for Thanksgiving, so the next day she and her husband roast their own turkey because they want to have the leftovers. I love that. Maybe next year I'll do it.

Went to a friend's mom's for Thanksgiving and brought this for dessert. I was calling it "pot de creme" becuase I thought it'd be too cumbersome to add the brulee topping at the mom's apartment and so wasn't going to add it. But once I had cooked the custards, the tops were kind of brown and unappealing-looking, so I called the friend, Julie, and she mentioned she had received a kitchen torch as a wedding present. So we busted it out after dinner; it was fun. Her husband and brother even came into the kitchen to watch and did a couple themselves.

Once I got started on this recipe it ended up being so easy that it only took about 15 minutes of prep time. You put 2 cups heavy cream in a saucepan with 1/2 a vanilla bean that you split and scrape the seeds out of (seeds go into the cream, too). Heat that until the cream's bubbling where it touches the sides of the pan, then remove it from the heat. Meanwhile whisk 1 egg, 3 yolks and 7 tablespoons maple syrup (the recipe called for grade B, which is more flavorful, but all I had was grade A; I just measured a scant half-cup). Then slowly pour in the cream, whisking to keep it from cooking the eggs. Pour that mixture through a fine strainer into a container with a pouring spout. Place eight 4-ounce ramekins on a rimmed baking sheet, divide the mixture among the ramekins, place in a 325 degree oven and add hot water to the rimmed baking sheet to create a waterbath. It's supposed to take 40 minutes to cook. I turned on the convection feature, which the recipe said would take the same amount of time but would protect the custard from the direct heat coming from the bottom of the oven. When I checked on it after 35 minutes, the tops were getting brown and one of the custards was actually bubbling! I took them out right away, and the texture ended up being fine (except for the unsightly brown tops). But it freaked me out that I had ruined them. Put them in the fridge overnight (or at least two hours). Right before you're ready to serve, pat the moisture off the top, add about a tablespoon of sugar to the top of each one and spread evenly, then torch away (or put them under the broiler) until the top is brown and hard.

I had put the 1/2 vanilla pod that got strained out of the cream mixture in a jarful of sugar, and that's the sugar we used for the brulee. The vanilla made it smell like we were toasting marshmallows as we torched the tops. It was good stuff, though. Silky with a crunchy top and a faint flavor of maple in the custard.

Went to a friend's mom's for Thanksgiving and brought this for dessert. I was calling it "pot de creme" becuase I thought it'd be too cumbersome to add the brulee topping at the mom's apartment and so wasn't going to add it. But once I had cooked the custards, the tops were kind of brown and unappealing-looking, so I called the friend, Julie, and she mentioned she had received a kitchen torch as a wedding present. So we busted it out after dinner; it was fun. Her husband and brother even came into the kitchen to watch and did a couple themselves.

Once I got started on this recipe it ended up being so easy that it only took about 15 minutes of prep time. You put 2 cups heavy cream in a saucepan with 1/2 a vanilla bean that you split and scrape the seeds out of (seeds go into the cream, too). Heat that until the cream's bubbling where it touches the sides of the pan, then remove it from the heat. Meanwhile whisk 1 egg, 3 yolks and 7 tablespoons maple syrup (the recipe called for grade B, which is more flavorful, but all I had was grade A; I just measured a scant half-cup). Then slowly pour in the cream, whisking to keep it from cooking the eggs. Pour that mixture through a fine strainer into a container with a pouring spout. Place eight 4-ounce ramekins on a rimmed baking sheet, divide the mixture among the ramekins, place in a 325 degree oven and add hot water to the rimmed baking sheet to create a waterbath. It's supposed to take 40 minutes to cook. I turned on the convection feature, which the recipe said would take the same amount of time but would protect the custard from the direct heat coming from the bottom of the oven. When I checked on it after 35 minutes, the tops were getting brown and one of the custards was actually bubbling! I took them out right away, and the texture ended up being fine (except for the unsightly brown tops). But it freaked me out that I had ruined them. Put them in the fridge overnight (or at least two hours). Right before you're ready to serve, pat the moisture off the top, add about a tablespoon of sugar to the top of each one and spread evenly, then torch away (or put them under the broiler) until the top is brown and hard.

I had put the 1/2 vanilla pod that got strained out of the cream mixture in a jarful of sugar, and that's the sugar we used for the brulee. The vanilla made it smell like we were toasting marshmallows as we torched the tops. It was good stuff, though. Silky with a crunchy top and a faint flavor of maple in the custard.

We visited Todd's extended family in Seattle this weekend, and his aunt asked me to pull together this salad, which is a family favorite. I grew more and more skeptical as I assembled the ingredients and started making the dressing. It all comes together really well, though. (And apparently tastes even better the second day.)

It's a head of broccoli cut into florets and 1/2 cup each cashews, dried cranberries and bacon all tossed together and then dressed with 3/4 cup mayonnaise mixed with 2 tablespoons red wine vinegar and 1/2 cup sugar. The dressing IS really sweet, but hold your criticism until you toss it with the broccoli mixture. It actually tastes great. (But who ever thought of putting these ingredients together?) One of Todd's cousins says she substitutes yogurt for some of the mayonnaise when she makes it, in order to not cancel out all the good effects of eating broccoli.

Have you ever had hot zabaglione? I actually thought it sounded kind of strange, a sauce made of egg yolks, sugar and marsala. It's whipped in a round-bottomed zabaglione pan (or the top of a double boiler) over gently boiling water until cooked. I was expecting something like custard, but it's much airier and tastes strongly of the wine. Palmira's serves it alone in a small wine glass, as well as with chocolate gelato with fruit. I had it alone last night when we ate here, which was the perfect introduction to it. It was a great way to squeeze in dessert after a big meal.

The proprietors' daughter, Jennifer Desmond, had sent me some menus, and there were a number of appetizers, salads and desserts I wanted to try (including the zabaglione), but I actually ended up liking the entrees we had the best (granted, we didn't give them much chance to show off with the starter, since we order antipasti, which was good). We both ordered specials. Mine was rigatoni with duck ragu, which was exactly what I had been shooting for when I made ragu: super-rich, with this deep, meaty flavor. Todd had branzino, which seems to be their fish of choice, with oranges, tomatoes(?) and olives (very adventurous of Todd, but he really liked it). Todd doesn't usually like sweets except for dessert, but the flavors of the sauce were so well-balanced, the oranges were more acidic with just a hint of sweetness, cutting through the briney olives.

I never would have found the restaurant on my own, but it's actually pretty easy to get to once you know it's there, especially if you're already downtown: one stop into Brooklyn on the 2 or 3 train, then get off at Clark Street and it's right around the corner, 41 Clark Street. The location kind of illustrates one of the strange things about New York: You can be so easy to get to, but if you're not right on a main street with lots of foot traffic, it's hard to fill seats. Palmira's is pretty big, with two main dining areas (they do host lots of parties, especially this time of year), and on a Thursday night it felt kind of empty. It seemed reasonably priced (we would have spent about $100 for antipasti, wine, beer, entrees, two desserts and coffee) with pretty good food. Everyone's friendly there, the service is good, the dining area is comfortable, which makes it feel like a neighborhood place that's still looking for its neighborhood.

I don't know what to call these, but I'm going to have to come up with something because I've made them about three times now (in the last two years), which makes them a part of my repertoire.

I don't want to anger any barbecue fans by calling this barbecue (which is what the recipe calls them, even though they're not). It's just shredded chicken in a lot of really flavorful juice, which soaks into the toasted buns and makes everything tasty.

You mix 1/4 cup brown sugar with a tablespoon chile powder, 2 teaspoons cumin, 1/2 teaspoon paprika and some salt and pepper, then you pat that all over about a pound of boneless chicken breasts. Heat oil in a pan, then cook the chicken 2 minutes on each side. Take the chicken out of the pan, add a thinly sliced onion, and cook the onion a couple minutes, stirring it around to get all the stuff that's left in the pan (there's a lot). Add the chicken back in, pour in 1 cup chicken broth, and simmer it all covered for 30 minutes. Take out the chicken and shred it, then add it back in and simmer to reduce the liquid, about 15 minutes. Serve on toasted buns. There's a recipe for quick pickled cucumber slices, but Todd doesn't like them, so we just use dill pickles or eat without.

I don't know what to call these, but I'm going to have to come up with something because I've made them about three times now (in the last two years), which makes them a part of my repertoire.

I don't want to anger any barbecue fans by calling this barbecue (which is what the recipe calls them, even though they're not). It's just shredded chicken in a lot of really flavorful juice, which soaks into the toasted buns and makes everything tasty.

You mix 1/4 cup brown sugar with a tablespoon chile powder, 2 teaspoons cumin, 1/2 teaspoon paprika and some salt and pepper, then you pat that all over about a pound of boneless chicken breasts. Heat oil in a pan, then cook the chicken 2 minutes on each side. Take the chicken out of the pan, add a thinly sliced onion, and cook the onion a couple minutes, stirring it around to get all the stuff that's left in the pan (there's a lot). Add the chicken back in, pour in 1 cup chicken broth, and simmer it all covered for 30 minutes. Take out the chicken and shred it, then add it back in and simmer to reduce the liquid, about 15 minutes. Serve on toasted buns. There's a recipe for quick pickled cucumber slices, but Todd doesn't like them, so we just use dill pickles or eat without.

I had some folks over the other night and was required to provide snacks (a pleasure), so I put out this cake, some spiced apple cider in the slow-cooker (apple cider, whole cloves, a couple cinnamon sticks and a sliced orange and then let the whole thing sit on low; last Christmas when I was at my parents I had a cookerful of this going all day and it gets more intense the longer it stews), dried apricots and figs and some really sharp Cheddar cheese with crackers.

The cake recipe is another one of those Cooking Light one-bowl recipes. I had made it right before everyone showed up so it would be warm, but it was actually better the second day, and even better the third (the spices almost seem to intensify). I don't have the recipe on me right now, so I'll have to post it later.

I had some folks over the other night and was required to provide snacks (a pleasure), so I put out this cake, some spiced apple cider in the slow-cooker (apple cider, whole cloves, a couple cinnamon sticks and a sliced orange and then let the whole thing sit on low; last Christmas when I was at my parents I had a cookerful of this going all day and it gets more intense the longer it stews), dried apricots and figs and some really sharp Cheddar cheese with crackers.

The cake recipe is another one of those Cooking Light one-bowl recipes. I had made it right before everyone showed up so it would be warm, but it was actually better the second day, and even better the third (the spices almost seem to intensify). I don't have the recipe on me right now, so I'll have to post it later.

This time of year I always want to spend the weekend with a big, bubbling pot of something working away on the stovetop, so this weekend it was wild rice and smoked turkey soup. I love the chewiness of wild rice, and the faint smoke flavor from the turkey gives the soup a nice, warm fall taste.

Saute 1 cup each diced carrots, yellow onion and green onion in a couple teaspoons butter for a few minutes, until the onion starts to get soft. Add 3 minced cloves garlic and some chopped dried rosemary, then add 1 cup wild rice, 4 cups chicken stock, about 1/2 pound diced smoked turkey (I had the deli give me one big slice) and pepper and simmer for a little over an hour, until the rice is cooked. Then whisk 1/3 cup flour into 2 3/4 cups milk and pour it into the soup. Simmer for about 8 minutes, until the soup starts to thicken, then add a couple teaspoons of sherry and some more black pepper and salt.

I keep forgetting to mention that we went to Daisy May's last week. I work at 50th and Broadway, so it's a bit of a trek, but Todd was at Javits for a photo show so I met him over there for lunch.

I guess I've been holding off on writing this up because I don't know what to say. Todd was very unhappy with his meal and the price, but I think he's being unreasonable. (He's a Virgil's fan.)

Three things I can say: There's no seating, so take it to go or eat standing up at a built-in ledge along the window (which didn't bother me); it's a lot of food, so you could get by for two people sharing one order of barbecue ($8) and a couple of small sides ($3 each); it's a great option, the best I know of, when you're trapped over at Javits for the day. Oh, and go for the ribs; even I wasn't all that impressed with the pulled-pork sandwich Todd ordered.

But I liked the dry-rubbed ribs I had. They were this great texture, really pretty firm, but the meat still comes right off the bone when you bite into it, in shreds. Easy texture to handle with your fingers, but even the dry-rub was messy (I would be disappointed in it if it wasn't). We had mashed potatoes, which were overly buttery and a weird, lumpy-with-pools-of-runny texture, and Cheddar corn, which was really pretty great. Too much to finish on my own, though.

I'd trek over there again for some more (without Todd, though). I'm pretty sure they deliver, too, so I may persuade some of my coworkers that we all want barbecue. Shouldn't be hard to do.

Fired up the broiler for the first time last night (I'm running out of new features) to make a quick tuna melt: I mixed the rest of that olive-oil packed tuna with capers, celery, pepper and a little mustard to hold it together, then spread that over a piece of bread I had toasted under the broiler on the low setting (two broiler settings! who ever heard of such a thing?). Added some cheese to the top (roasted pepper would've been nice here, too), then put it back under the broiler until the cheese was getting blistery.

Tuna melts are another thing I remember eating a lot of when I was a kid, which can make any food feel like comfort food. Ended the meal by making a stovetop rice pudding with some leftover rice, milk, sugar, cinnamon, a crushed cardamom pod, nutmeg and rose water (I was reaching for the vanilla when I noticed the rose water in my cupboard and thought that might give it an interesting twist - it did, although I think I may have added a little more than was necessary).

Fired up the broiler for the first time last night (I'm running out of new features) to make a quick tuna melt: I mixed the rest of that olive-oil packed tuna with capers, celery, pepper and a little mustard to hold it together, then spread that over a piece of bread I had toasted under the broiler on the low setting (two broiler settings! who ever heard of such a thing?). Added some cheese to the top (roasted pepper would've been nice here, too), then put it back under the broiler until the cheese was getting blistery.

Tuna melts are another thing I remember eating a lot of when I was a kid, which can make any food feel like comfort food. Ended the meal by making a stovetop rice pudding with some leftover rice, milk, sugar, cinnamon, a crushed cardamom pod, nutmeg and rose water (I was reaching for the vanilla when I noticed the rose water in my cupboard and thought that might give it an interesting twist - it did, although I think I may have added a little more than was necessary).

I promised Eric that I would mention the maple butter he made for the dinner Saturday night. Four sticks of room-temperature butter, 1/4 cup maple syrup, some cinnamon and I think vanilla all whisked together then refrigerated. Eric put it all in a shallow dish and made decorative swirls on top before he put it back the in the fridge. It was terrific on the sweet-potato biscuits he made, but I think it'd be even better on buttermilk pancakes. I'm sure he and his wife, Lisa, will come up with lots of uses for it, especially since they have the better part of a pound left.

I promised Eric that I would mention the maple butter he made for the dinner Saturday night. Four sticks of room-temperature butter, 1/4 cup maple syrup, some cinnamon and I think vanilla all whisked together then refrigerated. Eric put it all in a shallow dish and made decorative swirls on top before he put it back the in the fridge. It was terrific on the sweet-potato biscuits he made, but I think it'd be even better on buttermilk pancakes. I'm sure he and his wife, Lisa, will come up with lots of uses for it, especially since they have the better part of a pound left.

I gave my new tart pan a spin with a recipe I made from the Once Upon a Tart cookbook for a friend's fall-themed dinner party. Did NOT like the Once Upon a Tart crust at all (it was way too crumbly, and used about twice as much butter as any other recipe I saw), but the apples and custard were great (the custard itself takes on some apple flavor, and it was even better the second day), and I was really happy with how easy it was to use the pan.

So first you make the crust and fit it into the pan (which I won't go into since I was so unhappy with the crust, except to say that it was really hard to work with, even though I opened the window so the apartment would be cold), then refrigerate it to firm it up. Meanwhile, slice the apples about 1/8 inch thick (I used 2 giants and 2 little apples, but I don't remember what the three different types were, and ended up with way too many apple slices). Arrange them in concentric rings, with the smaller apple slices inside. I used the rounded end slices to make a small design in the center. Then pour the custard (mix 1/3 cup sugar with 2 eggs until pale yellow, add 1/2 cup light cream, 1/2 cup milk and 1/4 teaspoon vanilla extract) over it and bake in a 375-degree oven for 1 hour 15 minutes. When I put the tart in, all the custard pooled at the front of the tart, so I put a little piece of foil under it to level it. Looks like we need to figure out how to adjust the feet to level the new oven.

This is another place I strayed from the recipe. After 10 minutes the back of the crust was getting brown and the front was not, so I turned on my new convection oven feature. Forty minutes later the tart was done. The apples that stick up above the tart get a little burned, but it gives the whole thing a nice burnished look. Once the tart has cooled a little, brush it with some melted apricot jam.

The tart leaked all over the oven floor during baking, so it looks like it's time to use the new oven's self-clean feature. I'm really breaking this thing in.

There was a moment last night when the excitement of my new oven really hit me (just this one more time, then I'll stop). The timer on my oven had gone off (I had set it for the minimum time), so I turned on the light (the light!) and could see that the brownies were still wet in the middle. When they finally were done and I opened the door (there's that light again!) and pulled the pan out, everything was so gleaming, bright and smooth and chocolatey smelling. It made me realize how dark and cavernous my old oven was.

Anyway, the brownie recipe was from this great book I borrowed from someone here at work, BitterSweet by Alice Medrich. I had fallen in love with the book before I even tried a recipe (I want to try a couple more before I decide to buy one for myself). Each chapter has a long introduction, which is a mixture of what she learned from testing the recipes (in a very conversational way, though; not like a Cooks Illustrated scientific kind of approach), anecdotes about her life, history about the recipes in the chapter, the kinds of chocolate she uses. Almost all the recipes in her book include variations that use different types of chocolate, including chocolates with different percentages of chocolate liqueurs. Great explanations for why you use a certain technique and what each ingredient does.

I have a new oven! It has a waist-high broiler (instead of a broiler drawer), a special high-powered burner and another, low-powered burner for simmering things, it's self-cleaning, has two built-in timers (one that actually turns the oven off when the time's run down), and a convection feature. It's not as wide as my old oven, which is going to take some getting used to (I used to have lots of extra surface area on the actual stovetop where I could put things down). It's still a gas oven and stovetop, which I like.

Anyway, I've been repeatedly foiled in my attempts to use it. It arrived yesterday afternoon but wasn't hooked up and ready to go until about an hour before I had to leave last night. Then tonight I had the slowest subway ride, so I got home later than usual (a ride that normally takes 30 minutes took three times as long). The good thing about the extra-long ride is that it gave me a chance to think about what to have for dinner.

I ended up having pasta with oil-packed tonna (tuna), capers and olive oil. I put the oil in a small saucepan on the simmer burner and dropped a crushed clove of garlic in there, to infuse the oil with the garlic. Cooked the pasta on the power burner; not sure if the water came to a boil faster, but this Barilla pasta I got, spaghetti rigati (spaghetti with ridges), really does cook in 5 minutes. I tossed the tuna and capers into the oil, then added the pasta. Tossed it all together, added some grated Parm, and was eating 15 minutes after I walked in the door. The oil could have used a little more garlic flavor, but overall it was a pretty good meal (and amazingly quick).

It's not really that late yet. Maybe I'll give the oven its first spin with some brownies.

I have a new oven! It has a waist-high broiler (instead of a broiler drawer), a special high-powered burner and another, low-powered burner for simmering things, it's self-cleaning, has two built-in timers (one that actually turns the oven off when the time's run down), and a convection feature. It's not as wide as my old oven, which is going to take some getting used to (I used to have lots of extra surface area on the actual stovetop where I could put things down). It's still a gas oven and stovetop, which I like.

Anyway, I've been repeatedly foiled in my attempts to use it. It arrived yesterday afternoon but wasn't hooked up and ready to go until about an hour before I had to leave last night. Then tonight I had the slowest subway ride, so I got home later than usual (a ride that normally takes 30 minutes took three times as long). The good thing about the extra-long ride is that it gave me a chance to think about what to have for dinner.

I ended up having pasta with oil-packed tonna (tuna), capers and olive oil. I put the oil in a small saucepan on the simmer burner and dropped a crushed clove of garlic in there, to infuse the oil with the garlic. Cooked the pasta on the power burner; not sure if the water came to a boil faster, but this Barilla pasta I got, spaghetti rigati (spaghetti with ridges), really does cook in 5 minutes. I tossed the tuna and capers into the oil, then added the pasta. Tossed it all together, added some grated Parm, and was eating 15 minutes after I walked in the door. The oil could have used a little more garlic flavor, but overall it was a pretty good meal (and amazingly quick).

It's not really that late yet. Maybe I'll give the oven its first spin with some brownies.

I have a confession to make: I always use canned beans. Once in college Todd's roommate James got excited about making a pot of beans, and I remember a too-small pot simmering on the back burner of the stove for what seemed like the entire day. I wondered how he had the patience to wait for the beans to be done. Whenever I've tried to recreate the experience (OK, the one time), I've ended up with chalky, mushy beans (try coming up with that combo on purpose). But now that I'm confined to slow-cooker meals, I thought I'd try again, but this time I soaked them overnight (instead of using the quick-soak method) and then put them in the slow-cooker for 8 hours.

First, I was astounded by how quickly a pound of dried black beans soaks up water. I had put them in a bowl and covered them by about 2 inches with water, and when I looked an hour later the water level was below the level of the beans (so I added more water). Let it sit overnight, then drained the beans and put them in my slow-cooker with a 15-ounce can diced Italian-style tomatoes, 2 chopped bell peppers, 1 chopped onion, 2 minced jalapenos, 4 minced garlic cloves, a tablespoon each cumin and chipotle chili powder, a teaspoon each cinnamon and dried oregano, lots of salt and 1 ounce chocolate chips. I didn't think there'd be enough liquid, but there was, and after 8 hours on low the beans had a great texture, firm and toothy. Topped them with rice, Frank's hot sauce, sour cream, Cheddar cheese and scallions. Have about 6 cups of beans left, so we'll be eating bean burritos, soup, etc. all week.

I like using the slow-cooker for things like this, that need gradual, gentle heat for a long time. I saw a couple of recipes for steamed pudding in a slow-cooker, which seems like another natural use, along with braising meats, cooking beans, caramelizing onions. What about other low, slow-needs foods, like cheesecakes and custards? I don't know how I feel about doing things like meatloaf or lasagna, which take 10 times longer in the slow-cooker but don't seem to benefit from the technique. There's a million slow-cooker or crockery cookbooks out there - anyone know a good one? One that doesn't have a single recipe that includes a can of cream soup?

I have a confession to make: I always use canned beans. Once in college Todd's roommate James got excited about making a pot of beans, and I remember a too-small pot simmering on the back burner of the stove for what seemed like the entire day. I wondered how he had the patience to wait for the beans to be done. Whenever I've tried to recreate the experience (OK, the one time), I've ended up with chalky, mushy beans (try coming up with that combo on purpose). But now that I'm confined to slow-cooker meals, I thought I'd try again, but this time I soaked them overnight (instead of using the quick-soak method) and then put them in the slow-cooker for 8 hours.

First, I was astounded by how quickly a pound of dried black beans soaks up water. I had put them in a bowl and covered them by about 2 inches with water, and when I looked an hour later the water level was below the level of the beans (so I added more water). Let it sit overnight, then drained the beans and put them in my slow-cooker with a 15-ounce can diced Italian-style tomatoes, 2 chopped bell peppers, 1 chopped onion, 2 minced jalapenos, 4 minced garlic cloves, a tablespoon each cumin and chipotle chili powder, a teaspoon each cinnamon and dried oregano, lots of salt and 1 ounce chocolate chips. I didn't think there'd be enough liquid, but there was, and after 8 hours on low the beans had a great texture, firm and toothy. Topped them with rice, Frank's hot sauce, sour cream, Cheddar cheese and scallions. Have about 6 cups of beans left, so we'll be eating bean burritos, soup, etc. all week.

I like using the slow-cooker for things like this, that need gradual, gentle heat for a long time. I saw a couple of recipes for steamed pudding in a slow-cooker, which seems like another natural use, along with braising meats, cooking beans, caramelizing onions. What about other low, slow-needs foods, like cheesecakes and custards? I don't know how I feel about doing things like meatloaf or lasagna, which take 10 times longer in the slow-cooker but don't seem to benefit from the technique. There's a million slow-cooker or crockery cookbooks out there - anyone know a good one? One that doesn't have a single recipe that includes a can of cream soup?