Recipes & Cooking: May 2004 Archives

These lentils turned out good: firm and flavorful.

I cooked the lentils in a lot of water, the way you make pasta (although I put the lentils and water together in the pot, then brought it all to a boil). Tonight I cooked 1/2 cup lentils (with a crushed garlic clove and a sprig of rosemary for flavor) in perhaps 4 or 5 cups of water, for about 11 minutes (not the 30 minutes instructed on the package; I checked on them often and stopped boiling them while they were still firm). I used green lentils because that's what I had on hand. Drain and let cool. Meanwhile I made a mustard vinaigrette (heavy on the vinegar) and dressed the spinach and quartered grape tomatoes separately (the original recipe didn't have tomatoes). Added dressing to the lentils to taste, then assembled the salad.

The recipe for this was actually a peach-blackberry cobbler, but Todd brought such big, beautiful blackberries home that I had to use all of them (more than the recipe called for). I cheated, too, and used one of those refrigerated pie crusts. I will never perfect pie crusts from scratch as long as I can buy a pretty decent unbaked crust at the grocery store (to my eternal shame).

I mixed 2 cups sliced peaches (from a bag of frozen) with 1/3 cup sugar, 1/2 tablespoon cornstarch, a couple squeezes of lemon juice and some finely chopped ginger (not enough, though, because I couldn't really taste it in the finished product). Then I folded the blackberries in (2 cups), being careful not to crush them. Left that to get juicy while I prepared the lattice top.

I unfolded the crust and brushed it with egg white, then sprinkled it with sugar, cinnamon and a few grates of nutmeg. Cut it in strips, then poured the fruit into the gratin dish and wove the strips on top (I only used about 1/2 of one crust; I baked the rest as ice-cream garnishes). Baked in a 375 degree oven for 45 minutes. Let it cool a bit, then serve over vanilla ice cream (it's especially good when it's still warm, and the juices run in with the melting ice cream).

I bought a quarter of a watermelon the other day, and have thoroughly enjoyed having it all to myself because Todd does not like watermelon (which is so improbable to me that I actually bothered to ask him why - futile). It reminded me, though, of a salad someone made for supper club. I remember being quite skeptical as she started pulling together the two main ingredients: watermelon and feta. But it was really wonderful, the salty feta contrasting beautifully with the sweet, wet watermelon. I have a theory that in one bite it creates and quenches a thirst in you. Nigella Lawson has a recipe in Forever Summer that has a bunch of other stuff: olives, parsley, red onion, lime, mint, pepper. I can't remember what Sam's had, but I do think tossing together a little lime juice, some cubed or crumbled feta and some chunks of watermelon would be yummy. Maybe I'd add a little ground cayenne or chipotle for heat, although that may be going too far.

I should have known that it would take a rainy day to get me in the kitchen again. Beautiful spring days call for street food, ice cream, maybe the very first spring produce. They're not really cooking days. But the whole way home on the subway Monday night I was thinking how nice it would be for Todd, shaking the rain from his umbrella, to follow the warm, spicy smell of chili down the hall to our apartment door.

So I made it. I like using ground chuck for chili, because I have this theory that the extra fat keeps the beef from clumping, that it helps to break it down into even, small pieces and it helps it to cook evenly. Of course, then you have to drain off huge amounts of melted fat, which I do by spooning the cooked beef into a paper towel–lined bowl, then pouring off the fat into a jar I keep in the freezer (I'm always afraid the temperature contrast will break the glass, so I let the jar warm a little at room temperature, and let the grease cool a little bit). Then I cooked chopped onion and bell pepper in the same deep skillet, and added a couple cans of tomatoes with the juice, one diced and one whole (which I smashed up with a wooden spoon). I added lots of cumin and ancho chile powder, and a little bit of chipotle powder for heat. Salt. Then let it bubble until Todd got home. We shredded Cheddar over the top, and ate it with some leftover bicuits.

Normally I would've added the spices before the tomatoes, to toast them a little, but I'm out of practice and I forgot. I'm not sure it makes a huge difference in the finished product, but I did have to add way more of the spices than I thought. I kept adding and tasting, adding and tasting, until it almost seemed there.

David is my friend's husband, and the second-least-active member of my cooking club. Todd's the least active. (David, no offense. You're dabbling a lot more.) Inspired by all of us cooking all the time (I like to think, although I bet it's mostly Julie), David made Julie tacos for dinner the other night. I love this, because he used the box and the seasoning packet, just like my parents used to do when we were kids. It sounds like David's formative food experiences were a lot like mine. Anyway, here's what he says:

I’ve never cooked. Before meeting Julie (a friend of Kim), pre-packaged and/or fast foods were what I ate, punctuated by bowls of cereal for breakfasts and the occasional “dinner out” at nights. Sure, I’ve boiled water for pasta, scrambled eggs here & there, blended a few smoothies, made mashed-potato paste and even botched a stir-fry, but seriously I’ve never cooked. Growing up, our family foraged in a similar way – eating out, ordering in or grazing on pre-packaged foods. My step-mom made lasagna twice yearly or so, and my dad would roast chickens sporadically. He also made tacos when friends slept over, whereupon we’d engage in taco-eating contests. I loved tacos as a kid; it was fun to build them, to mix and match the various ingredients. Each ingredient would be so neatly compartmentalized – a bowl of grated cheese, of lettuce, of salsa – it all made sense. It may have been the empowerment I learned from such “taco-nstruction” that had me believing I could easily prepare tacos. So I got some ground meat and followed the directions on the seasoning packet. The store-bought shells weren’t crispy and the canned refried beans needed softening, so I heated the beans in a pan and crisped the shells in the oven. Surely this qualifies as cooking since both the oven and range were used simultaneously. The other ingredients, which included grated cheese, shredded lettuce, sliced olives, diced tomatoes and salsa were prepared and placed in bowls beforehand (mise-en-place, I’m told). Unfortunately, I used store-bought pre-grated cheese, which gave the tacos a junky edge. Additional ingredients could have included chopped onions, sour cream, guacamole and maybe tilapia instead of beef, but I kept it simple this first try. The bowls were arranged on the table, and we sat down to begin construction. Though they weren’t as tasty as dad's, they were just as fun.

David is my friend's husband, and the second-least-active member of my cooking club. Todd's the least active. (David, no offense. You're dabbling a lot more.) Inspired by all of us cooking all the time (I like to think, although I bet it's mostly Julie), David made Julie tacos for dinner the other night. I love this, because he used the box and the seasoning packet, just like my parents used to do when we were kids. It sounds like David's formative food experiences were a lot like mine. Anyway, here's what he says:

I’ve never cooked. Before meeting Julie (a friend of Kim), pre-packaged and/or fast foods were what I ate, punctuated by bowls of cereal for breakfasts and the occasional “dinner out” at nights. Sure, I’ve boiled water for pasta, scrambled eggs here & there, blended a few smoothies, made mashed-potato paste and even botched a stir-fry, but seriously I’ve never cooked. Growing up, our family foraged in a similar way – eating out, ordering in or grazing on pre-packaged foods. My step-mom made lasagna twice yearly or so, and my dad would roast chickens sporadically. He also made tacos when friends slept over, whereupon we’d engage in taco-eating contests. I loved tacos as a kid; it was fun to build them, to mix and match the various ingredients. Each ingredient would be so neatly compartmentalized – a bowl of grated cheese, of lettuce, of salsa – it all made sense. It may have been the empowerment I learned from such “taco-nstruction” that had me believing I could easily prepare tacos. So I got some ground meat and followed the directions on the seasoning packet. The store-bought shells weren’t crispy and the canned refried beans needed softening, so I heated the beans in a pan and crisped the shells in the oven. Surely this qualifies as cooking since both the oven and range were used simultaneously. The other ingredients, which included grated cheese, shredded lettuce, sliced olives, diced tomatoes and salsa were prepared and placed in bowls beforehand (mise-en-place, I’m told). Unfortunately, I used store-bought pre-grated cheese, which gave the tacos a junky edge. Additional ingredients could have included chopped onions, sour cream, guacamole and maybe tilapia instead of beef, but I kept it simple this first try. The bowls were arranged on the table, and we sat down to begin construction. Though they weren’t as tasty as dad's, they were just as fun.

This may strike everyone reading this blog as remarkably obvious, but every now and again, I'm struck by how easy cooking can be. I'm not talking fancy cooking here, I'm talking about one step up from takeout. And that's an important step.

Last night I was faced with a mixed bag of ingredients in the fridge and neither Kim or I had much inclination to cook. But Kim had thought ahead and planned quick fajitas using some leftover chicken from Boston Market (yes, we've been eating more takeout of late.) Within a few minutes she'd chopped green peppers and onions and I sautéed them with some chipotle powder, chili powder and cumin plus a little salt and black pepper. A couple of minutes on low heat and the chicken Kim shredded was ready to go in. Flour tortillas wrapped in aluminum foil go in the oven on low heat. A few more minutes and we're chowing down on chicken/onion/peppers wrapped in a soft, warm tortilla.

It all seems so easy since at I write this I realize all I did was shake the skillet a few times. Now, coming up with the menu - that's hard. I leave that to Kim.