Cooking Misc.: October 2003 Archives

Real home cooks have a collection of recipes that work for them, that they know by heart and can adjust according to what they have in their kitchens. I feel like I won't be a real cook until I have one. So every time I make something new, Todd gets 20 questions: What do you think? Would you want this again? Do you like it more than what I made last night? Do you like it more than the other [insert chicken, pasta, steak, etc. here] dish I made last week?

He's been spared the 20 questions lately, though, because I've either made things that are becoming regulars in our home, or I've made things that I wasn't really that happy with.

I have a recipe for fantastic and rich coconut macaroons that I made this weekend, then dipped in either Scharffen Berger bittersweet or Key Food semisweet (I do like the deep, musky bittersweet flavor better that the semisweet, but didn't necessarily prefer the texture of one more than the other). Anyway, after making these cookies twice I've decided they deserve a place in my canon.

I've also included a couscous dish with sausage and chicken. You cook onion and then add chicken, kielbasa, broth, tomato paste, a cut-up turnip, a carrot, turmeric (last time I substituted cumin), hot pepper flakes, a cinnamon stick and bay leaf and simmer for a while, then you take out part of the liquid to make the couscous. The couscous comes out great.

My oven finally died so it's going to be the microwave, electric skillet, waffle iron and slow-cooker for us for a while. It'll be an interesting challenge.

It astounds me how the most modest ingredients make the most fantastic food: old bread, sugar and eggs make creamy bread pudding; flour, water and eggs make pasta; the cheapest cut of beef, carrots, onion, celery and time for a great stew; a chicken carcass and some veggies for a rich, thick stock; flour, water and yeast for bread.

I made polenta last night to eat with the leftover ragu, and it's basically 2 cups of boiling water, 1/2 cup basic cornmeal (about 10 cents' worth) and a lot of stirring (of course, I added butter and Parmesan at the end, but you could have a very respectable, creamy polenta just by adding a lot of salt and freshly ground pepper - but even a wedge of Parmesan can be a modest ingredient when you consider how far you can stretch a chunk). The ragu, which disappointed me the first time, was transformed by the modest cornmeal mush. Frugality is highly underrated.

I made long-simmering ragu this weekend, and it was fine, although I kind of felt like something was missing. It's weird, it had that depth of flavor I was looking for, but was almost too mellow, without any standout flavor. I have a bunch of ideas for what might remedy it, or what could make it better next time: It might just need more salt (I'm always a little too light on the salt), which a liberal grating of Parmesan over the top could take care of, or I might need better tomatoes (I used fresh), wine or meat (I used a mix of ground beef and veal). Maybe even more garlic. I threw in some chopped-up Parmesan rind toward the end, and more of that might have made a difference. Or maybe my expectations were just too high?

I made long-simmering ragu this weekend, and it was fine, although I kind of felt like something was missing. It's weird, it had that depth of flavor I was looking for, but was almost too mellow, without any standout flavor. I have a bunch of ideas for what might remedy it, or what could make it better next time: It might just need more salt (I'm always a little too light on the salt), which a liberal grating of Parmesan over the top could take care of, or I might need better tomatoes (I used fresh), wine or meat (I used a mix of ground beef and veal). Maybe even more garlic. I threw in some chopped-up Parmesan rind toward the end, and more of that might have made a difference. Or maybe my expectations were just too high?

I've had this spoon for more than eight years, which may not seem like a lot to some people but is a long time to me. Some friends gave it to me as part of a whole basketful of kitchen stuff when I got engaged. I was still in college and didn't even have much in the way of the hodgepodge of hand-me-downs that college kids usually use in their first kitchens. Just some metal bowls (that are fantastic and I still use) that Todd inherited when a friend of his mom's moved into a nursing home along with a couple green-and-white plates and some mismatched plastic-handled forks and spoons.

Sometimes I just use the spoon, but more often than not when I use the spoon it makes me think about the women who gave it to me, how they surprised me with the party, the communal nature of college living, the way our lives melded into one another's for a while. The morning walks I used to take with a couple of them; the long talks late into the night; how my roommates changed who I am. The way I was berating Todd for being slow and late when we walked in on everyone yelling "surprise!" (That hasn't changed, to my shame.)

I have other kitchen equipment, from the wedding, that makes me think of the givers: a spice rack from my coworkers at the writing center, the set of pots and pans (not the ones we registered for but much better) from Todd's aunt and uncle, the coffeemaker from my aunt.

When we got all these things, I had no idea how they would become a day-to-day part of our lives, and how they would stay with me and remind me of the people who gave them to us. So I guess the wedding-gift anxiety I usually have is unnecessary: They'll use that blender or toaster, and maybe once in a while when they do they'll think of me.

I bought apples at the Union Square farmer's market (HUGE apples) and took them over to some friends' where we made a caramel-topped apple pie on Sunday. I should've watched my friend better as she made the crust: It came out perfect, flaky but solid enough to hold everything together. She did it all by hand but didn't have any big lumps of butter in her finished crust. I think I just need to be more patient when I'm cutting in the butter (she used a pastry blender).

It's amazing how a slice of warm apple pie with ice cream melting all over it can make me so happy. I had one of those "this is awesome" moments right in the middle of eating it.

We've finally come to the end of my ropa vieja. (Get it? What's with me this weekend?) Tonight, I put what was left into two ramekins, topped it with mashed potatoes (a big white potato, 1 tablespoon butter, 2 tablepoons sour cream and a splash of milk) and cooked it for 15 minutes in a 450 degree oven. Its fourth incarnation: We had it with rice, in tacos, as sandwiches and as sheperd's pie.

We've finally come to the end of my ropa vieja. (Get it? What's with me this weekend?) Tonight, I put what was left into two ramekins, topped it with mashed potatoes (a big white potato, 1 tablespoon butter, 2 tablepoons sour cream and a splash of milk) and cooked it for 15 minutes in a 450 degree oven. Its fourth incarnation: We had it with rice, in tacos, as sandwiches and as sheperd's pie.

I finally had Korean food last night, but not on Korea street. I met a friend near her workplace, at 54th and Park. It was a good place to go for a first experience; everyone was so nice about all of our questions. Some Citysearch reviews had complained that it was pricey and that they didn't bring out all the vegetables unless the customer's Korean, but that wasn't our experience at all (I'm beginning to think that Citysearch is useless for reviews; it's just a site the disgruntled use for revenge).

I can see why Korean food is becoming so popular, though. It makes you feel like you're having a feast when they bring out all those little dishes of kimchi, pickled radish, octopus salad, lotus root, etc. I ordered bibimbop, which is sticky rice mixed with vegetables and beef. It's brought to the table with an egg yolk on top in the clay pot they cooked it in and then, tableside, the waiter breaks the egg yolk and mixes it into the rice with some hot sauce. They also brought out a savory egg custard for us to try. It was silky and slippery and hot. Perfect for a cold day. They have a great lunch special, too.

This is what Todd usually orders when we go to Cabana (or one of his usuals), so when I saw the recipe in Food and Wine I decided to make it. We started with about a 2-pound London broil-type steak, beef shoulder or something like that. We were making half a recipe (the full recipe supposedly made 8 servings, although we're going on 7 servings now with half the recipe). Todd cut it in three pieces, with the grain, seasoned it liberally with salt and pepper, and browned it on both sides in a little bit of oil over high heat. Then he added 4 cups of water and a bay leaf, and the whole thing simmered for 1 hour 40 minutes. I turned the meat over halfway through.

Removed the meat from the pan and set aside 1 1/2 cups of liquid, which looked like beef stock (discarded the rest). Sauteed 1 each thinly sliced red and green bell pepper and white onion until everything was getting soft and the onion was browning, then added 7 minced garlic cloves. Added the reserved liquid, 1 14-ounce can whole tomatoes crushed with my hands, a cinnamon stick, 4 whole cloves, another bay leaf and a couple tablespoons of capers. Simmered for about 20 minutes, then added the meat back in to heat. We ate it with rice.

Last night we had leftovers wrapped in flour tortillas with diced avocado, scallion, lime juice and Frank's hot sauce. I preferred it that way.

I used almond paste for the first time this weekend. It was this modest, old-fashioned looking little can I found on the baking aisle, so I had one of those sticker-shock moments when it rang up at five dollars. I'm not cheap, I just had a limited amount of cash on me and it was sitting there next to the 99 cent packages of sugar, so . . . I sound so naive.

I even pulled out my food processor for this one, and mixed 1 stick butter with 1/4 cup almond paste until smooth, then added 1 1/4 cup confectioners' sugar and 1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract, then combined. Dropped 4 egg yolks (I freeze the whites) and 2 whole eggs, one at a time, through the tube while the processor was running. Added 1/4 cup sour cream and processed to combine.

In a large bowl I mixed 1/2 cup each cornmeal and cake flour and 1 teaspoon baking powder, then added the mixture from the food processor and folded it all in together. Baked it in a buttered and floured 9-inch round cake pan, 350 degree oven, for I think 30 minutes, until the top was golden and the sides were pulling away from the pan. It actually wouldn't come out of the pan so I just left it in there and cut slices straight out of it (the buttered-floured pan never works for me). Great light texture, with a little of that cornmeal graininess, and the scent of almonds. It was best warm, but good even after it had cooled off.

Now I have about 1/2 cup of the almond paste left to try in something new.

I love this weather. Even the smells of cooking, of the gas burners on my stovetop firing up, are different when the air outside is so crisp and clean. I made pasta with tomato sauce last night, a childhood favorite, and it was the perfect food for the turn in the weather. I got out my sweaters, pulled on my flannel pajamas and made a list of warm foods to stock up on: teas, cocoa and cider, steel-cut oats, soups.