Before I get started, please allow me to apologize for my absence these past few weeks. I was surprised to hear that people noticed I hadn’t been posting, but glad to know that I do have committed readers out there!
The holidays are officially upon us, and the weeks since Thanksgiving have been pretty hectic. But the tree is up, the stockings are hung by 3M hooks on my door with care, gifts have all been bought and wrapped, and the cards are in the mail. The only thing left to do is COOK!
Here’s what’s on my list to prepare over the next few days:
• Chicken soup (the tortellini tradition carries over to Christmas, where I believe it rightfully belongs)
• Oatmeal raisin cookies (my brother’s favorites, and the only way I can give him a gift without him feeling like I gave him a gift… long story)
• Torta di pittata
Torta di pittata, affectionately known as torta pittat, or just plain torta, by my Italian relatives, is the most important item on that list. Honestly, if I don’t get around to making the oatmeal raisin cookies, no one would even notice. If I decided to cheat, and use store bought chicken broth instead of homemade, I’ll probably still get told that it’s the best I’ve ever made (somehow this soup magically gets better every year – not sure how, but I’ll take the compliment). But if I screw up the torta, I’m out of the family. While it’s a tempting punishment at times, I’m still going to try my best.
Torta pittat is basically an Italian potato pie. The potato is the only ingredient that won’t give you heartburn or a heart attack. The other ingredients are a veritable death sentence – onions, romano cheese, parmesan cheese, butter, and eggs. And I’m talking about lots of butter, onions and cheese. I am unable to share the exact recipe – again, I’ll get kicked out of the family – but you basically mix all these things together and spread it on a thin crust and bake it. When it’s done, you sprinkle it with a little sugar and eat all your stomach (and heart, blood pressure, arteries, etc) can take.
I never actually liked torta before, but once I started making it myself I developed a taste for it. It’s amazing what pride of ownership will due for your taste buds.
So talking about torta is the easy part. Not screwing it up – that’s where the challenge lie.
The filling always comes out good – seriously, what’s not to like about potato, butter, eggs, cheese and onions all mixed together and baked? It’s like the world’s guiltiest mashed potato mix. But for some reason, I struggle with the crust. Every other year it gives me trouble. If I remember correctly, last year was a bad year, so this year should be an easy one. But, then again, I plan to make two batches so that I can bring some to B’s family. Does that put the odds against me? Maybe, if I’m lucky, it’s not every other year, but every other batch.
I would like to think it’s an every other year plague, but given my track record with cooking for B, I’m guessing it’s going to be an every other batch problem.
Truth be told, no one really notices when the crust is not right – the filling is 99% of the torta, and that’s all anyone really cares about. But it drives me crazy because it is so simple and when it gives me trouble, it does so to the point of tears. Literally, I get so frustrated I just start crying. It’s not the most productive way to deal with stress in the kitchen, but it is what it is.
Tomorrow I will make my shopping list – figure out how many pounds (yes, pounds) of potatoes, onion, cheese and butter I need to make two recipes of torta di pittata. Tuesday I will shop, and Wednesday I will cook. Thursday I will let you all know how horribly wrong it all went. (My eyes will be too red from crying to update you any sooner!)
Merry Christmas and/or Happy Hanukkah to you all!
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Death by Blackened Salmon
All I really want to do is prepare a fabulous meal for B that leaves him thinking that he can’t live without me. Is that asking too much?
Apparently it is.
My latest attempt at cooking the dream dinner for my dream guy almost asphyxiated us both. After several days of non-stop eating over the Thanksgiving holiday, that were preceded by back to back restaurant dinners, it was time for something lighter and healthier. (Please note, I said lighter and healthier – not light and healthy.)
I talked B out of making Beef Wellington on Saturday night (too much work for a Saturday night dinner... save it for a Sunday afternoon), and I set out to make Blackened Salmon Caesar Salad. He’s a big fan of the Caesar salad, and blackening salmon gives it a little something extra to make it more than your basic grilled fish on salad.
I wanted everything to be made from scratch, because what’s so special about a pre-packaged seasoning mix and bottled salad dressing? Don’t get me wrong, I’ve used them in the past and will use them again in the future, but my goal here was to impress B with my food preparation skills (I’ve given up on trying to impress him with my cooking). I needed recipes for Caesar dressing and the blackening seasoning, and I found them easily on the Food Network website.
My plan was to make the dressing first (it had the most steps and I could really screw up dinner if I waited to do it while the fish was cooking). I pull out the blender, puree the anchovies in olive oil, press the garlic, coddle the egg, dash the Tabasco and Worcestershire sauce, add the dried mustard and celery salt, etc etc, and whisk my little heart out. With the dressing done, I tear up the romaine, grate some premium Parmesan cheese, and pour in the croutons (I decided not to over-commit with homemade croutons – I figured it was a recipe for disaster, no pun intended). Salad aside, dressing ready to be tossed, and now I’m on to the salmon.
The recipe for the blackening season was quite simple – 5 sprigs of fresh thyme, leaves removed and chopped; 1 tablespoon of chopped fresh oregano; 1/2 teaspoon of kosher salt; 1.5 tablespoons of paprika; and 1.5 tablespoons of ground cayenne pepper. Easy peasy. B even helped with the herbs (which is great, since the novelty of my new knives has worn off and I’m no longer excited to finely chop fresh herbs).
After skinning the fish, I coated it in the seasoning mix on all sides. The oil was heated in the skillet, and we were ready to go.
The salmon was added to the pan, and within seconds neither one of us could breathe. The cayenne pepper filled the air so heavily, we had to open all the windows just to feel like we were doing something to try to survive. It infiltrated our noses, and we couldn’t stop sneezing. It got stuck in our throats, and the coughing couldn’t be contained. We were gulping Chardonnay as if our lives depended on it. Loved ones were called, goodbyes were said. It was awful.
Seriously, can I catch a break? I’m really not a terrible cook. Really, I swear it – I’m much harder on myself than I deserve to be. Yes, I definitely have some unusual experiences in the kitchen, but since I met B I can barely boil water. It’s truly unbelievable. This never happened with the pre-made seasoning mix from Emeril.
We managed to endure the cooking of the fish, and drink enough water (once we realized the Chardonnay wasn’t doing much to help) to survive. You ever want to torture someone to get them to talk? Blackened salmon is your weapon, my friend. Recipe above.
All in all, and despite the threat of death, the dinner wasn’t bad. It was definitely very spicy and hard on the respiratory system, but I lived to write about it and cook for B again. The BLT I made him for lunch today was a winner (oh, big deal, I can cook bacon and assemble a sandwich!!), and he’s trusting me enough to let me make linguine with white clam sauce for dinner tonight (homemade, but now that I think about it, I should have bought some in a jar as emergency back up). Hopefully there is a winner in my repertoire somewhere and eventually I’ll prepare the perfect meal with the desired reaction.
A girl can dream, can’t she?
Apparently it is.
My latest attempt at cooking the dream dinner for my dream guy almost asphyxiated us both. After several days of non-stop eating over the Thanksgiving holiday, that were preceded by back to back restaurant dinners, it was time for something lighter and healthier. (Please note, I said lighter and healthier – not light and healthy.)
I talked B out of making Beef Wellington on Saturday night (too much work for a Saturday night dinner... save it for a Sunday afternoon), and I set out to make Blackened Salmon Caesar Salad. He’s a big fan of the Caesar salad, and blackening salmon gives it a little something extra to make it more than your basic grilled fish on salad.
I wanted everything to be made from scratch, because what’s so special about a pre-packaged seasoning mix and bottled salad dressing? Don’t get me wrong, I’ve used them in the past and will use them again in the future, but my goal here was to impress B with my food preparation skills (I’ve given up on trying to impress him with my cooking). I needed recipes for Caesar dressing and the blackening seasoning, and I found them easily on the Food Network website.
My plan was to make the dressing first (it had the most steps and I could really screw up dinner if I waited to do it while the fish was cooking). I pull out the blender, puree the anchovies in olive oil, press the garlic, coddle the egg, dash the Tabasco and Worcestershire sauce, add the dried mustard and celery salt, etc etc, and whisk my little heart out. With the dressing done, I tear up the romaine, grate some premium Parmesan cheese, and pour in the croutons (I decided not to over-commit with homemade croutons – I figured it was a recipe for disaster, no pun intended). Salad aside, dressing ready to be tossed, and now I’m on to the salmon.
The recipe for the blackening season was quite simple – 5 sprigs of fresh thyme, leaves removed and chopped; 1 tablespoon of chopped fresh oregano; 1/2 teaspoon of kosher salt; 1.5 tablespoons of paprika; and 1.5 tablespoons of ground cayenne pepper. Easy peasy. B even helped with the herbs (which is great, since the novelty of my new knives has worn off and I’m no longer excited to finely chop fresh herbs).
After skinning the fish, I coated it in the seasoning mix on all sides. The oil was heated in the skillet, and we were ready to go.
The salmon was added to the pan, and within seconds neither one of us could breathe. The cayenne pepper filled the air so heavily, we had to open all the windows just to feel like we were doing something to try to survive. It infiltrated our noses, and we couldn’t stop sneezing. It got stuck in our throats, and the coughing couldn’t be contained. We were gulping Chardonnay as if our lives depended on it. Loved ones were called, goodbyes were said. It was awful.
Seriously, can I catch a break? I’m really not a terrible cook. Really, I swear it – I’m much harder on myself than I deserve to be. Yes, I definitely have some unusual experiences in the kitchen, but since I met B I can barely boil water. It’s truly unbelievable. This never happened with the pre-made seasoning mix from Emeril.
We managed to endure the cooking of the fish, and drink enough water (once we realized the Chardonnay wasn’t doing much to help) to survive. You ever want to torture someone to get them to talk? Blackened salmon is your weapon, my friend. Recipe above.
All in all, and despite the threat of death, the dinner wasn’t bad. It was definitely very spicy and hard on the respiratory system, but I lived to write about it and cook for B again. The BLT I made him for lunch today was a winner (oh, big deal, I can cook bacon and assemble a sandwich!!), and he’s trusting me enough to let me make linguine with white clam sauce for dinner tonight (homemade, but now that I think about it, I should have bought some in a jar as emergency back up). Hopefully there is a winner in my repertoire somewhere and eventually I’ll prepare the perfect meal with the desired reaction.
A girl can dream, can’t she?
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Thanksgiving Tradition
As much as I have enjoyed having my kitchen invaded and having dinner cooked for me by B two Fridays in a row, it’s good to get back behind the stove and do some cooking myself. With Thanksgiving just a few days away, I’ve got some work to do. But before I start, it’s time to reflect on the most important part of the holiday. Sorry, I’m not going to reflect on what I’m thankful for (don’t you think that can get a little trite?). Instead, I’m going to reflect on Thanksgiving tradition – because to me, Thanksgiving is all about tradition.
So here is a list of my favorite Thanksgiving traditions:
Traditionally, we start the meal with homemade cheese tortellini in chicken broth. My grandmother made these every year while she was alive, and once she passed away my mom and dad took on the task. This is absolutely my most favorite holiday food. It’s the thing I look forward to the most. My mother has a tendency to ration the tortellini, so we won’t fill up on the first course and barely touch the rest of the meal that she and my dad spent days preparing. Traditionally, this tendency is greeted with boos and lots of criticism. It can get pretty ugly. It’s very dangerous to withhold the tortellini from a group of half drunk, half-Irish, half-Italians!
Traditionally, my parents invite me to help make the tortellini. And in an even grander tradition, each year I come up with an excuse for why I cannot help. This year my excuse was that it’s really a two person job and I would just get in the way. I honestly don’t know why they keep asking.
Traditionally, my parents do all the work preparing the meal, and cleaning up. This is my most favorite tradition of all. Yes, I do get some crap for not helping, but they forget about it pretty quickly so it’s worth the little bit of grief I get to not have to get my hands dirty. (In my defense, I never ask them to help when they eat at my home.)
Traditionally, the meal is served 30 minutes after the time my parents tell us we’ll be eating. They always say 2 o’clock, so I get there at 1 o’clock, and we are lucky if we’re eating by 2:30. Each year they swear we will eat on time, but yet it never seems to happen. You know what? If they served the meal on time, the rest of us probably wouldn’t be half drunk by the time we sit down and the rationing of the tortellini might be less ugly. Just a thought…
Traditionally, my mother tries to get me to eat butternut squash and I have to remind her, as I do every year, that I do not like butternut squash. She always seems surprised and asks “since when?” and I always reply “since forever.” Truth be told, a few years ago I tried butternut squash somewhere and loved it. But I am such a fan of tradition that I don’t want to ruin this one by admitting I now like something I insisted for years that I hated. Plus, it’s fun.
Traditionally, I make the chicken soup for the tortellini. I start by roasting the bird, and then cleaning all the meat off of it and boiling the carcass with onion, celery, carrots, parsley, kosher salt and peppercorns. After it reduces, I let it sit overnight in the refrigerator. The next day I skim off the fat and bring it back up to a boil to check and adjust the seasonings. It’s a lot of work – albeit easy work – but it is so worth it. Those tortellini deserve nothing but the best, and canned broth simply will not do.
Traditionally, I argue with my parents over whether or not to serve salad with the meal. I am always (ALWAYS!) pro salad, and they are usually opposed. My sister usually settles the argument by volunteering to bring the salad. Everyone wins – I get my salad, and my parents don’t have to make it. I’m not sure why they are anti-salad with Thanksgiving dinner, because we have always been a salad family. Seriously, pretty much every dinner was accompanied by salad. For some reason it becomes offensive on Thanksgiving.
Traditionally, my mother tries to fancy up some aspect of the meal. One year she decided to serve potatoes au gratin instead of mashed. Another time she added nuts to the green beans. (I will not even discuss the year she added grated carrot to the broth for the tortellini. She’s lucky to be alive.) Each year she gets chastised. Yet, the tradition continues. It’s not that what she makes isn’t good (with the exception of the carrot in the soup), it’s just not part of our traditional Thanksgiving dinner. Thanksgiving is not the time to experiment with new dishes.
Traditionally, the asparagus is way over cooked. They always buy fresh asparagus, but manage to cook it to the color and texture of canned asparagus. Recently, my brother Dave informed us all that he never liked asparagus until he had it in Vegas when we were there for Lindsay and Padraig’s wedding. My parents asked why he all of a sudden liked it, and he answered that he never had it cooked properly before. They thought he was crazy (he is, but for different reasons), but Lindsay and I quickly came to his defense. This year, they claim they are going to cook it properly. We’ll see…
As big a fan as I am of Thanksgiving tradition, I am taking a big step away from it this year. For the first time in my life, I will not be having dinner with my family. Instead I will be having dinner with B (which I am both excited and terrified about). So, I will not be partaking in the traditions of eating later than anticipated, and telling my mother that I don’t like butternut squash (maybe I’ll actually get to eat it this year!). There will be no salad served with dinner (this I learned earlier today – they wasted no time in cutting me out of this meal once I told them I would be with B instead), and I’ll have to check in with Lindsay and Dave to find out whether or not the asparagus was overcooked.
B and I will be arriving later to have dessert with my parents, and I’m sure the grand tradition of finding something wrong with my cheesecake will continue. There truly is no place like home for the holidays!
Happy Thanksgiving everyone!!
So here is a list of my favorite Thanksgiving traditions:
Traditionally, we start the meal with homemade cheese tortellini in chicken broth. My grandmother made these every year while she was alive, and once she passed away my mom and dad took on the task. This is absolutely my most favorite holiday food. It’s the thing I look forward to the most. My mother has a tendency to ration the tortellini, so we won’t fill up on the first course and barely touch the rest of the meal that she and my dad spent days preparing. Traditionally, this tendency is greeted with boos and lots of criticism. It can get pretty ugly. It’s very dangerous to withhold the tortellini from a group of half drunk, half-Irish, half-Italians!
Traditionally, my parents invite me to help make the tortellini. And in an even grander tradition, each year I come up with an excuse for why I cannot help. This year my excuse was that it’s really a two person job and I would just get in the way. I honestly don’t know why they keep asking.
Traditionally, my parents do all the work preparing the meal, and cleaning up. This is my most favorite tradition of all. Yes, I do get some crap for not helping, but they forget about it pretty quickly so it’s worth the little bit of grief I get to not have to get my hands dirty. (In my defense, I never ask them to help when they eat at my home.)
Traditionally, the meal is served 30 minutes after the time my parents tell us we’ll be eating. They always say 2 o’clock, so I get there at 1 o’clock, and we are lucky if we’re eating by 2:30. Each year they swear we will eat on time, but yet it never seems to happen. You know what? If they served the meal on time, the rest of us probably wouldn’t be half drunk by the time we sit down and the rationing of the tortellini might be less ugly. Just a thought…
Traditionally, my mother tries to get me to eat butternut squash and I have to remind her, as I do every year, that I do not like butternut squash. She always seems surprised and asks “since when?” and I always reply “since forever.” Truth be told, a few years ago I tried butternut squash somewhere and loved it. But I am such a fan of tradition that I don’t want to ruin this one by admitting I now like something I insisted for years that I hated. Plus, it’s fun.
Traditionally, I make the chicken soup for the tortellini. I start by roasting the bird, and then cleaning all the meat off of it and boiling the carcass with onion, celery, carrots, parsley, kosher salt and peppercorns. After it reduces, I let it sit overnight in the refrigerator. The next day I skim off the fat and bring it back up to a boil to check and adjust the seasonings. It’s a lot of work – albeit easy work – but it is so worth it. Those tortellini deserve nothing but the best, and canned broth simply will not do.
Traditionally, I argue with my parents over whether or not to serve salad with the meal. I am always (ALWAYS!) pro salad, and they are usually opposed. My sister usually settles the argument by volunteering to bring the salad. Everyone wins – I get my salad, and my parents don’t have to make it. I’m not sure why they are anti-salad with Thanksgiving dinner, because we have always been a salad family. Seriously, pretty much every dinner was accompanied by salad. For some reason it becomes offensive on Thanksgiving.
Traditionally, my mother tries to fancy up some aspect of the meal. One year she decided to serve potatoes au gratin instead of mashed. Another time she added nuts to the green beans. (I will not even discuss the year she added grated carrot to the broth for the tortellini. She’s lucky to be alive.) Each year she gets chastised. Yet, the tradition continues. It’s not that what she makes isn’t good (with the exception of the carrot in the soup), it’s just not part of our traditional Thanksgiving dinner. Thanksgiving is not the time to experiment with new dishes.
Traditionally, the asparagus is way over cooked. They always buy fresh asparagus, but manage to cook it to the color and texture of canned asparagus. Recently, my brother Dave informed us all that he never liked asparagus until he had it in Vegas when we were there for Lindsay and Padraig’s wedding. My parents asked why he all of a sudden liked it, and he answered that he never had it cooked properly before. They thought he was crazy (he is, but for different reasons), but Lindsay and I quickly came to his defense. This year, they claim they are going to cook it properly. We’ll see…
As big a fan as I am of Thanksgiving tradition, I am taking a big step away from it this year. For the first time in my life, I will not be having dinner with my family. Instead I will be having dinner with B (which I am both excited and terrified about). So, I will not be partaking in the traditions of eating later than anticipated, and telling my mother that I don’t like butternut squash (maybe I’ll actually get to eat it this year!). There will be no salad served with dinner (this I learned earlier today – they wasted no time in cutting me out of this meal once I told them I would be with B instead), and I’ll have to check in with Lindsay and Dave to find out whether or not the asparagus was overcooked.
B and I will be arriving later to have dessert with my parents, and I’m sure the grand tradition of finding something wrong with my cheesecake will continue. There truly is no place like home for the holidays!
Happy Thanksgiving everyone!!
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Kitchen Invasion
They say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. I think I’m going to need a new set of directions, because I clearly am not going to get to B’s heart with my cooking. The good news is that my homemade spaghetti sauce neither killed nor scared him away. The sauce was by no means my best effort, but he politely cleaned his plate and then offered to cook for me next time. I’ll try to believe that he liked it (he said he did) and not read too much into that follow up gesture.
I’ve fully admitted in the past that my foodie status is strictly in the wannabe category. I’m working hard to make it legitimate, but it’s going to be a long journey. Now, I’m dating someone who not only knows so much more about food than I do, but is an infinitely better cook than I am.
B invaded my kitchen this weekend and made me an unbelievable dinner – chicken breast stuffed with spinach, kalamata olives and a goat cheese brie, with garden salad and wild mushroom risotto. I sat humbly by and watched while he prepped and cooked in my tiny little kitchen. There wasn’t much for me to do, so I sat on the counter and drank several glasses of Kendall Jackson Chardonnay while he chopped, sliced, etc. Eventually he broke down and let me stir the risotto. And let me tell you, I stirred the crap out of that risotto. I had to make myself useful after all. Maybe I’ll get close to his heart by being a good sous chef.
Oh, I forgot to mention that he prepared a nice little Italian hot sausage appetizer for us to enjoy while he cooked. Everything was delicious. It was an amazing dinner. (Eat your heart out, Tom Colicchio and Craft. B put your over-salted quail to shame!)
Since my spaghetti sauce was okay, and I’m unable to identify the flavors of various herbs in the many dishes we’ve eaten together, I need to redeem myself somehow. I resorted to baking cookies. High school flashbacks aside (that was probably the last time I baked cookies from scratch for the sole purpose of impressing a boy), it was what I felt was my only viable option on short notice. I will not share this recipe – it’s all I have left in my arsenal – but there is a lovely bag of 3+ dozen, made from scratch, chocolate-peanut butter-toffee chip cookies just waiting for B to enjoy.
And naturally, he’s not hungry. So the bag remains untouched, and we all are left waiting for the final verdict. I feel more confident about these cookies than I do that spaghetti sauce (even though he said he liked it), but alas we must wait for him to get hungry. Do stay tuned, I promise to share the results.
(I just remembered… my manicotti recipe. If the cookies fail, I have one strike left!!)
I’ve fully admitted in the past that my foodie status is strictly in the wannabe category. I’m working hard to make it legitimate, but it’s going to be a long journey. Now, I’m dating someone who not only knows so much more about food than I do, but is an infinitely better cook than I am.
B invaded my kitchen this weekend and made me an unbelievable dinner – chicken breast stuffed with spinach, kalamata olives and a goat cheese brie, with garden salad and wild mushroom risotto. I sat humbly by and watched while he prepped and cooked in my tiny little kitchen. There wasn’t much for me to do, so I sat on the counter and drank several glasses of Kendall Jackson Chardonnay while he chopped, sliced, etc. Eventually he broke down and let me stir the risotto. And let me tell you, I stirred the crap out of that risotto. I had to make myself useful after all. Maybe I’ll get close to his heart by being a good sous chef.
Oh, I forgot to mention that he prepared a nice little Italian hot sausage appetizer for us to enjoy while he cooked. Everything was delicious. It was an amazing dinner. (Eat your heart out, Tom Colicchio and Craft. B put your over-salted quail to shame!)
Since my spaghetti sauce was okay, and I’m unable to identify the flavors of various herbs in the many dishes we’ve eaten together, I need to redeem myself somehow. I resorted to baking cookies. High school flashbacks aside (that was probably the last time I baked cookies from scratch for the sole purpose of impressing a boy), it was what I felt was my only viable option on short notice. I will not share this recipe – it’s all I have left in my arsenal – but there is a lovely bag of 3+ dozen, made from scratch, chocolate-peanut butter-toffee chip cookies just waiting for B to enjoy.
And naturally, he’s not hungry. So the bag remains untouched, and we all are left waiting for the final verdict. I feel more confident about these cookies than I do that spaghetti sauce (even though he said he liked it), but alas we must wait for him to get hungry. Do stay tuned, I promise to share the results.
(I just remembered… my manicotti recipe. If the cookies fail, I have one strike left!!)
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Back to the Kitchen
After a week filled with a lot of restaurant dinners (Grill 23, Oga, Craft, Aureole, Skipjack’s and Bravo), and two weeks of pretty horrible blog posts, it’s time for me to get back to the kitchen. (My apologies for the crap I’ve been making you all read. It’s unacceptable, and it won’t happen again.)
Before I start, I do need to gush a little bit about Craft. Being a huge Top Chef fan, and by extension, a fan of all things Tom Colicchio, I was so excited to eat at Craft for the very first time. We’ll forget about the fact that halfway through the meal I realized I had eaten there before – minor detail. It was an amazing meal, from start to finish. It started with an amuse bouche of raw scallop on pumpkin puree, garnished with fennel frond. Yum. Then I ordered the lemon and arugula salad, the roasted quail and Brussels sprouts. For dessert, I had pumpkin crème brulee (being a lover of all things pumpkin). Everything was great, but I do need to point out that the quail was pretty over-salted. I have a very high salt tolerance, and I still found it very salty. Being that everything else on the table was perfect, it needs to be said that the quail would have landed Tom Colicchio on the wrong side of the judge’s table.
Salt aside, that meal reminded me of why I do this. Write this blog, that is. It is all for the love of food. I may not know much about it, I may not have much of a palate (this, I very recently became aware of), and I may not be that good of a cook. But I love to get in the kitchen and figure it all out. Why else do I have all this fancy cookware and knives?
Oh, that reminds me. I experienced my first knife casualty this past week. While I was drying dishes, my bread knife gave me a good slice. It bled like crazy, and for a good ten minutes I thought I was going to pass out. But I survived, and it turned out not be that bad of a wound. It’s nice to get the first accident out of the way!
So, back to being back in the kitchen… I had two very lovely meals with B this weekend (that’s all you’re getting out of me folks), and I decided it’s time to cook him dinner. In other words, it’s time to scare him away. Since I don’t actually want to scare him away, I decided to keep it simple and stick with what I know. Here’s the menu for this evening: Italian bread, garden salad (with homemade vinaigrette), spaghetti with homemade marinara sauce and meatballs, served with good quality parmagiano reggiano cheese and accompanied by a nice Cabernet Sauvignon.
I have two good recipes for marinara sauce. One is a quick 15 minute sauce, and the other is an all day affair (well, a few hours anyway). I chose the long version, and the sauce has been simmering all day. In my humble opinion, it smells and tastes delicious. My dad has commented that my sauce is too salty. Due to my previously noted high salt tolerance (and let’s be fair, he has an extremely low salt tolerance), I have no idea what he’s talking about. But to be safe, I used kosher salt since it’s far less salty than table or sea salt. While I did use dried Italian seasoning, I opted for fresh basil added at the end for a better flavor.
For the meatballs, I turned to the America’s Test Kitchen Family Cookbook. Granted, this cookbook totally screwed me with the clam chowder and cupcakes I made (ahem) for the tailgate clambake, it hadn’t failed me before so I’m giving it one last chance. I normally prefer meatballs that you cook entirely in the sauce, but they tend to fall apart and I’ve come to learn that’s really not a good thing. The primary reason I like that way better is that I can’t really stand browning meatballs in a frying pan and then baking them. Don’t ask me why. I just don’t. The ATK recipe calls for pretty much frying them in vegetable oil until they are completely cooked. I made sure to sample some, and they taste pretty good. But, I do have to admit, they may be slightly overbrowned. Not burnt – I would admit it that were the case. But, they are a little crunchy. I’m on the fence about serving them… I never actually promised the meatballs, so I could just serve him spaghetti.
While I think the sauce and meatballs taste pretty good, the true test will be whether or not B likes the dinner. Or more importantly whether I see him again after he eats it. We’ll see…
Before I start, I do need to gush a little bit about Craft. Being a huge Top Chef fan, and by extension, a fan of all things Tom Colicchio, I was so excited to eat at Craft for the very first time. We’ll forget about the fact that halfway through the meal I realized I had eaten there before – minor detail. It was an amazing meal, from start to finish. It started with an amuse bouche of raw scallop on pumpkin puree, garnished with fennel frond. Yum. Then I ordered the lemon and arugula salad, the roasted quail and Brussels sprouts. For dessert, I had pumpkin crème brulee (being a lover of all things pumpkin). Everything was great, but I do need to point out that the quail was pretty over-salted. I have a very high salt tolerance, and I still found it very salty. Being that everything else on the table was perfect, it needs to be said that the quail would have landed Tom Colicchio on the wrong side of the judge’s table.
Salt aside, that meal reminded me of why I do this. Write this blog, that is. It is all for the love of food. I may not know much about it, I may not have much of a palate (this, I very recently became aware of), and I may not be that good of a cook. But I love to get in the kitchen and figure it all out. Why else do I have all this fancy cookware and knives?
Oh, that reminds me. I experienced my first knife casualty this past week. While I was drying dishes, my bread knife gave me a good slice. It bled like crazy, and for a good ten minutes I thought I was going to pass out. But I survived, and it turned out not be that bad of a wound. It’s nice to get the first accident out of the way!
So, back to being back in the kitchen… I had two very lovely meals with B this weekend (that’s all you’re getting out of me folks), and I decided it’s time to cook him dinner. In other words, it’s time to scare him away. Since I don’t actually want to scare him away, I decided to keep it simple and stick with what I know. Here’s the menu for this evening: Italian bread, garden salad (with homemade vinaigrette), spaghetti with homemade marinara sauce and meatballs, served with good quality parmagiano reggiano cheese and accompanied by a nice Cabernet Sauvignon.
I have two good recipes for marinara sauce. One is a quick 15 minute sauce, and the other is an all day affair (well, a few hours anyway). I chose the long version, and the sauce has been simmering all day. In my humble opinion, it smells and tastes delicious. My dad has commented that my sauce is too salty. Due to my previously noted high salt tolerance (and let’s be fair, he has an extremely low salt tolerance), I have no idea what he’s talking about. But to be safe, I used kosher salt since it’s far less salty than table or sea salt. While I did use dried Italian seasoning, I opted for fresh basil added at the end for a better flavor.
For the meatballs, I turned to the America’s Test Kitchen Family Cookbook. Granted, this cookbook totally screwed me with the clam chowder and cupcakes I made (ahem) for the tailgate clambake, it hadn’t failed me before so I’m giving it one last chance. I normally prefer meatballs that you cook entirely in the sauce, but they tend to fall apart and I’ve come to learn that’s really not a good thing. The primary reason I like that way better is that I can’t really stand browning meatballs in a frying pan and then baking them. Don’t ask me why. I just don’t. The ATK recipe calls for pretty much frying them in vegetable oil until they are completely cooked. I made sure to sample some, and they taste pretty good. But, I do have to admit, they may be slightly overbrowned. Not burnt – I would admit it that were the case. But, they are a little crunchy. I’m on the fence about serving them… I never actually promised the meatballs, so I could just serve him spaghetti.
While I think the sauce and meatballs taste pretty good, the true test will be whether or not B likes the dinner. Or more importantly whether I see him again after he eats it. We’ll see…
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Freezer Failure
The goal for this past week was to live off my freezer and resist all temptation to go to the grocery store. I was part successful – I made it through the week without going to the grocery store, but I didn’t make much of a dent on the freezer stock.
A refresher on the rules: eat only food I already have, and buy only dairy and salad supplies at the grocery store. Take out and restaurant meals were strictly forbidden.
Breakfast was the easiest – yogurt and an English muffin (my local grocery store had a buy one/get one sale on Thomas’s English muffins a few weeks back and I had a package in the freezer).
For the most part, lunch worked out well too. I ate mostly salads that I brought from home and leftover chicken parmesan from last Saturday. I did have one cheat on lunch, but it was totally out of my control and I cannot be held accountable. My boss asked me to have lunch with her on Friday, and I really can’t be expected to tell my boss that I can’t go out to lunch with her because I gave up restaurant meals for the week. Seriously.
Dinner is where things got a little fuzzy. Okay, they got bad. I blew it. Below is my daily recap on how non-foodie like this experiment ended up being.
I’m heading to New York for work next week, and while I’m
there the plan is to hit Tom Colicchio’s Craft and
Charlie Palmer’s Aureole. I’m not any disappointments,
but if I do encounter any, I’ll be sure to share them with you.
A refresher on the rules: eat only food I already have, and buy only dairy and salad supplies at the grocery store. Take out and restaurant meals were strictly forbidden.
Breakfast was the easiest – yogurt and an English muffin (my local grocery store had a buy one/get one sale on Thomas’s English muffins a few weeks back and I had a package in the freezer).
For the most part, lunch worked out well too. I ate mostly salads that I brought from home and leftover chicken parmesan from last Saturday. I did have one cheat on lunch, but it was totally out of my control and I cannot be held accountable. My boss asked me to have lunch with her on Friday, and I really can’t be expected to tell my boss that I can’t go out to lunch with her because I gave up restaurant meals for the week. Seriously.
Dinner is where things got a little fuzzy. Okay, they got bad. I blew it. Below is my daily recap on how non-foodie like this experiment ended up being.
- Sunday: I had salad for dinner, a plain old garden salad. It was within the rules, but kind of lame.
- Monday: After having to deal with a particularly bad situation at work, my dinner consisted of a couple Jamesons and Ginger Ale and a bowl of popcorn . Technically, these are all ingredients I had on hand, even though I chose to buy the drinks at a bar instead of coming home and mixing them up myself. But the popcorn was all me.
- Tuesday: I had some lamb kebabs in the freezer, so I decided to make lamb burgers. I chopped the meat up in the food processor, added some lemon juice, oregano, garlic, salt and pepper and formed them into patties. For fun, I threw in a Laughing Cow cheese wedge. Feta would have been better, but I don’t typically have that on hand and even though it wouldn’t have been against the rules for me to buy it since it falls into the dairy group, I was too tired and hungry to go to the store. The burgers sound a lot better than they were. If I had a legitimate grill, they may have been okay. But I only had a cast iron grill pan which needs to be really hot, and it cooked up the outside way faster than the inside. I do prefer my red meat rare, but I finally understood what all the Top Chef judges complain about when the cheftestants undercook the lamb.
- Wednesday: I found veal cutlets in the freezer, and made some veal parmesan with leftover pizza sauce and the extra parmesan cheese from the chicken parm. It was a passable recipe – not great, not bad. The classic “fine.” I learned that this is a dish that best be made right – the chicken parm recipe will be used in the future.
- Thursday: Time for my weekly drinks with Sofia, so dinner consisted of a glass of sauvignon blanc and a bowl of popcorn when I got home. I’m starting to think that popcorn is the food of the Gods.
- Friday: Friday was my big cheat night. I’m not even going to try to hide it – rules were broken left and right. No freezer, no pantry, but instead a fantastic dinner at Grill 23 (both the food and the company). The details of which are not going to be shared at this time. Sorry, folks. I’m keeping this to myself for now. :)
- Saturday: Penny and I went to Denise’s daughter’s first birthday party, so breakfast consisted of a Fiber One bar in the car on my way to Needham, and lunch consisted of cheese and crackers. I broke down and ordered a pizza for dinner. I was starving, and too damn tired to do anything else about it. If it’s any consolation, the pizza wasn’t very good.
I’m heading to New York for work next week, and while I’m
there the plan is to hit Tom Colicchio’s Craft and
Charlie Palmer’s Aureole. I’m not any disappointments,
but if I do encounter any, I’ll be sure to share them with you.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
An Ode to "Good Eats"
Since that fateful night, I’ve watched many episodes of Good Eats, and I learn something new every time. I can’t say I always put those learnings to use, but learn I do. This year marks the tenth anniversary of Good Eats, and in honor of that, I’ve assembled a list of ten things that I have learned from the brilliant Alton Brown (AB to his friends). Truth be told, I have learned way more than ten things, but as is typical of me, I forget most of what I learn. So, this isn’t a list of the top ten things I’ve learned, it’s just a list that includes ten things.
#1 You don’t have to wait for pumpkin season to roast pumpkin seeds. The seeds from any winter squash – many of which are available all year round – can be roasted with similar results. I haven’t done it yet, but there is an acorn squash on my counter that is dying for this experiment.#2 Everything in your kitchen should be a multi-tasker. The only uni-tasker should be your fire extinguisher. Sadly, I have many uni-taskers (tomato knife, anyone?) and no fire extinguisher in my kitchen. Clearly I need to go back to school on this one.
#3 You can make popcorn in your microwave with a paper bag. Don’t ask me how, I just know that you can. (I checked the website, the recipe isn’t there. Sorry.)
#4 How to make a great BBQ dry rub. AB used it on ribs that he promised would cook in the oven as if they were grilled. My attempt didn’t quite work out, but I’ve used the rub on chicken, pork and steak to much success. (I had every intention of sharing this recipe with you, but I cannot find it. I’m beyond upset about this, since it’s no longer online and I really do like this recipe.)
#5 Amerigo Vespucci, the man for whom our country is named, began his career as a pickle merchant. Not relevant to anything I need to know, but I technically did learn this by watching Good Eats. (And while I forget all the important things I learn, I have an uncanny knack for holding on to useless information.)
#6 Pizza dough is better when you let it rise in the fridge for 18-24 hours vs. letting it rise in a warm environment for several hours. It’s a pain in the butt, and requires pre-planning, but I can say from experience that the dough I have let rise in the refrigerator comes out a lot better than the dough I let rise on a sunny windowsill. Also, a pizza stone is an absolute must. I resisted for a long time, and once I finally gave in, homemade pizza became a regular event at my house.
#7 When you deep fry food, and you do so properly, it really doesn’t absorb a lot of the oil so it’s not as bad for you or fattening as you may think. I swear Alton proved this on one episode by measuring the oil before and after frying French fries. Truthfully, I don’t believe it, but I use it as a convenient excuse when necessary. (Like when I must have French fries, which is quite often.)
#8 A cast iron skillet is a cook’s very good friend. I have two – the standard kind that Lori gave me for Christmas last year, and a grill pan which is the best damn grill pan I’ve ever owned. And I’ve owned quite a few. I can finally cook steak. These skillets are awesome.
#9 Had I followed through on my best intentions to surprise my mother with homemade scones and clotted cream one Mother’s Day, I would have learned how to make scones and clotted cream. (There’s always next year.)
#10 I learned not to be overly intimidated by coq au vin. It’s delicious, and not nearly as hard as I had thought it would be. Once you accept the fact that you probably won’t find an old hen and will have to settle on a grocery store chicken, it’s a great thing to try yourself. If you haven’t already…
Speaking of if you haven’t already… If you haven’t already, check out Good Eats on the Food Network. It’s on most weeknights at 8 p.m. Set your DVR, watch, learn and most importantly, enjoy.
Miscellaneous Notes of Thanks
Thanks to my Facebook fan/friend Kathie who suggested I check out The Pioneer Woman Cooks(www.thepioneerwoman.com/cooking). I found the most delicious chicken parmesan recipe, and the many photographs were a great help. Check it out, and definitely try the chicken parmesan. It was really easy, and really good! She posts frequently and her food looks both delicious and gorgeous – and her writing is very entertaining.
Thank you Hailey for upgrading my pizza cutter to a sturdy KitchenAid one that matches my kitchen! I can’t wait to make my next pizza, and I promise to have you over again for another pizza-salad-beer night. (We’ll pass on the high school grade stalking next time!)
Coming Attractions
This is the week where I am living off my freezer and pantry. Tune in next week to see how it went. The only items I was allowed to purchase at the grocery store yesterday were dairy (yogurt and half & half) and salad supplies (lettuce, tomatoes, onion and cucumber). And the two pieces of bread I stole from my parents so I could make a sandwich with the leftover chicken parmesan are totally legal.
Saturday, October 17, 2009
Disaster
Tomorrow is the clambake tailgate. I’m going to the Patriot’s game with my sister Lindsay and her new husband Padraig, and apparently the first 4:00 home game of the season marks the annual clambake tailgate. Even though Lindsay and I had unwittingly planned a Mexican feast for this tailgate – well, a fiesta really – I am totally on board with the clambake. You will never see me turn my nose up at lobster. Never. It’s just not done.
So instead of fajitas and margaritas and flan (oh my), I revised my plan to include New England Clam Chowder, corn on the cob, garden salad (because let’s face it, most tailgates lack vegetables) and cupcakes. I know, cupcakes don’t have much to do with a clambake but I figured it was an all-American dessert and that was appropriate enough.
Here it is Saturday, the day before the big game. The cooking is done. And let me tell you, it’s not good.
I am thisclose to throwing my America’s Test Kitchen cookbooks right out the window.
I got my recipes for the chowder and cupcakes from the ATK’s family and baking cookbooks, respectively. Neither recipe worked.
I’ll start with the chowder. It’s fine really, probably passable. Well, it is if you were looking for a milk based clam soup. The bacon never crisped (and the recipe called for way too much in my opinion), and the cream didn’t thicken – perhaps because there was only 1 cup of cream to 5 cups of clam broth. I even tried adding some Wondra and mashing up some of the potatoes hoping the extra starch would do the trick. Nope, uh uh.
Not being able to deal with the chowder for now, I turned my attention to the cupcakes.
I’ve never made a cake from scratch before (other than carrot and cheese cake), so I really didn’t know what to expect. The batter looked absolutely nothing like the box mix does. I had no idea if this was okay or not, so my only acceptable course of action was to bake it and see what happened. The recipe made 24 cupcakes, and instead of cooking one pan (12 cupcakes) at a time, it called for cooking both at once and rotating them halfway through baking. While it’s a miracle that I haven’t cut a finger off with my new knives, it’s no surprise that I managed to burn one while attempting to rotate the cupcake pans. (Those oven gloves are too cumbersome and the pot holder not protective enough.)
The cupcakes took a few minutes longer to cook (probably because I doubled up in my crappy oven instead of cooking them in separate batches), and they didn’t have much rise to them. They did manage to brown – although not evenly, but enough to look right. I patiently waited for them to cool so I could try one. If these cupcakes are great, then my chowder might be acceptable (“fine” will be okay as long as my cupcakes are “fantastic”).
So, how were the cupcakes, you ask? Hmm. Not really sure. They baked perfectly (with the exception of that lack of rise), but they don’t have much taste. They aren’t very sweet and they have a slight cornmeal taste. (I swear, there is no cornmeal in the batter.)
Now I’m pissed. I followed the recipe to a tee. I even weighed the flour and sugar instead of measuring it – just like the experts advise (and by expert, I mean Alton Brown). And I have a bowlful of homemade chocolate frosting ready and waiting.
There is no way I can show up at this tailgate with crappy chowder and bland cupcakes. It’s just not okay. And don’t even try to tell me that I still have the corn and salad. Shucking corn and tearing lettuce are not culinary skills that impress. Trust me. If they were, my parents would have sent me to culinary school instead of a business college.
Now I’m panicking. It’s 9:00 on Saturday night – too late to start over and too late to order the chowder from Legal Seafood like Hailey suggested. (I literally scoffed at her when she said I should buy it instead of make it. Like I would ever buy chowder instead of make it! Damnit me and my need to make my own mistakes instead of learning from others!) I can get away with the cupcakes, but I can’t serve the chowder.
And showing up without chowder is not an option.
I finally swallow my pride and get in my car – to the grocery store I go. I buy 6 pounds of frozen chowder and channel my inner Sandra Lee instead of my inner Top Chef. Semi-homemade it will have to be.
The homemade chowder is down the drain (literally, garbage disposal whirring as I type), and the frozen stuff is defrosting on the stove top and being doctored with fresh herbs and extra clams (that I fished out of the homemade chowder before I sent it down the disposal).
And don’t worry. I won’t try to pass it off as my own. I couldn’t even if I wanted to – Lindsay reads this, and so does my friend Eric who works with Padraig. They’d rat me out before I even had the chance to lie about the origins of the delicious store bought clam chowder.
I’m hoping the frosting saves the cupcakes. If not, I might claim I bought those too…
So instead of fajitas and margaritas and flan (oh my), I revised my plan to include New England Clam Chowder, corn on the cob, garden salad (because let’s face it, most tailgates lack vegetables) and cupcakes. I know, cupcakes don’t have much to do with a clambake but I figured it was an all-American dessert and that was appropriate enough.
Here it is Saturday, the day before the big game. The cooking is done. And let me tell you, it’s not good.
I am thisclose to throwing my America’s Test Kitchen cookbooks right out the window.
I got my recipes for the chowder and cupcakes from the ATK’s family and baking cookbooks, respectively. Neither recipe worked.
I’ll start with the chowder. It’s fine really, probably passable. Well, it is if you were looking for a milk based clam soup. The bacon never crisped (and the recipe called for way too much in my opinion), and the cream didn’t thicken – perhaps because there was only 1 cup of cream to 5 cups of clam broth. I even tried adding some Wondra and mashing up some of the potatoes hoping the extra starch would do the trick. Nope, uh uh.
Not being able to deal with the chowder for now, I turned my attention to the cupcakes.
I’ve never made a cake from scratch before (other than carrot and cheese cake), so I really didn’t know what to expect. The batter looked absolutely nothing like the box mix does. I had no idea if this was okay or not, so my only acceptable course of action was to bake it and see what happened. The recipe made 24 cupcakes, and instead of cooking one pan (12 cupcakes) at a time, it called for cooking both at once and rotating them halfway through baking. While it’s a miracle that I haven’t cut a finger off with my new knives, it’s no surprise that I managed to burn one while attempting to rotate the cupcake pans. (Those oven gloves are too cumbersome and the pot holder not protective enough.)
The cupcakes took a few minutes longer to cook (probably because I doubled up in my crappy oven instead of cooking them in separate batches), and they didn’t have much rise to them. They did manage to brown – although not evenly, but enough to look right. I patiently waited for them to cool so I could try one. If these cupcakes are great, then my chowder might be acceptable (“fine” will be okay as long as my cupcakes are “fantastic”).
So, how were the cupcakes, you ask? Hmm. Not really sure. They baked perfectly (with the exception of that lack of rise), but they don’t have much taste. They aren’t very sweet and they have a slight cornmeal taste. (I swear, there is no cornmeal in the batter.)
Now I’m pissed. I followed the recipe to a tee. I even weighed the flour and sugar instead of measuring it – just like the experts advise (and by expert, I mean Alton Brown). And I have a bowlful of homemade chocolate frosting ready and waiting.
There is no way I can show up at this tailgate with crappy chowder and bland cupcakes. It’s just not okay. And don’t even try to tell me that I still have the corn and salad. Shucking corn and tearing lettuce are not culinary skills that impress. Trust me. If they were, my parents would have sent me to culinary school instead of a business college.
Now I’m panicking. It’s 9:00 on Saturday night – too late to start over and too late to order the chowder from Legal Seafood like Hailey suggested. (I literally scoffed at her when she said I should buy it instead of make it. Like I would ever buy chowder instead of make it! Damnit me and my need to make my own mistakes instead of learning from others!) I can get away with the cupcakes, but I can’t serve the chowder.
And showing up without chowder is not an option.
I finally swallow my pride and get in my car – to the grocery store I go. I buy 6 pounds of frozen chowder and channel my inner Sandra Lee instead of my inner Top Chef. Semi-homemade it will have to be.
The homemade chowder is down the drain (literally, garbage disposal whirring as I type), and the frozen stuff is defrosting on the stove top and being doctored with fresh herbs and extra clams (that I fished out of the homemade chowder before I sent it down the disposal).
And don’t worry. I won’t try to pass it off as my own. I couldn’t even if I wanted to – Lindsay reads this, and so does my friend Eric who works with Padraig. They’d rat me out before I even had the chance to lie about the origins of the delicious store bought clam chowder.
I’m hoping the frosting saves the cupcakes. If not, I might claim I bought those too…
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Have New Knives, Will Chop Stuff
From the moment I clicked on “complete order,” I couldn’t wait for my new Wusthof Gourmet knives to arrive. As luck would have it, they were waiting on my doorstep when I arrived home from work late on Friday evening. Even though I was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to go straight to bed, I busted right into that box. I was excited, and wanted to get my hands on each knife as fast as possible, but I made sure to very slowly and carefully unpack each one and find it a home in the knife block. The emphasis was on “carefully” – I do have a history of badly cutting various fingers and I am trying very hard to prove to my friends and family that I can do this wannabe foodie thing.
Now that the knives are here, and my foodie wish list is empty, it’s time to think about what I want next. So far, I’m leaning towards crème brulee equipment. I promised my sister I wouldn’t buy a pressure cooker (in addition to cutting my fingers a lot, I did one time make a Pyrex baking dish explode to pieces), but she didn’t say anything about flame throwers!
Miscellaneous Notes
Thanks to all my new Facebook fans! Welcome to Confessions of a Wannabe Foodie, and please spread the word. :)
Daisy the Wonder Cat is recovering from her surgery very nicely. She’s allowed to jump again, and she begins her new fancy diet of duck and green pea based food today. Yes, that’s right, the wannabe foodie now has a foodie cat. How appropriate.
I’m loving Top Chef Las Vegas so far. My prediction for the final four is Jennifer, Kevin and the brothers Voltaggio. Not a bold prediction, I know – they have cooked themselves to the top of many a viewer’s top four list. I can’t wait for Mike Isabella to pack his knives and go, but I worry that he's going to be one of those guys who gets to the end by riding the coat tails of better chefs, or just by not being the worst chef each week (much like Lisa did in season 4, Chicago).
Check Back Often for These Future Posts
The Tailgate Meets Clambake. I’m crashing my brother-in-law’s annual tailgate clambake at next Sunday’s New England Patriot’s game, and my contribution will be homemade clam chowder (New England style, of course).
The No Grocery Shopping for One Week Challenge. I’m going to force myself to live off my pantry and freezer for one week. The only items I will be allowed to buy are dairy and produce for salad (I can’t use frozen lettuce, and canned tomatoes in a garden salad are just plain wrong). Let’s see how well I can survive on frozen veggies, things in cans, pasta and mystery meat.
Happy Anniversary, Good Eats. This year marks the tenth anniversary of one of my favorite food shows, Alton Brown’s Good Eats. Congratulations, Alton – you’re a true inspiration. I’ll be writing about the top ten things I learned by watching Good Eats.
In Closing...
I’ve received special requests to try some gluten free and vegetarian recipes. If there are any topics you’d like me to explore, please let me know. You can leave a comment on this site, become a fan and write on my wall at Facebook, or drop me an e-mail at confessionsofawannabefoodie@gmail.com. Sunday, October 4, 2009
House-bound for the Weekeind
There are two things I tend to do when I’m bored – eat and shop. On their own, each of these vices can be trouble. Combined, they’re deadly.
It was a quiet weekend at home for me. My cat had surgery during the week, so I didn’t make any plans in order to keep an eye on her. (Post-surgical orders included “no jumping.” How do you stop a cat from jumping up on things? It’s not like she’ll listen to me…) After a week of no carbs, or more truthfully 4 out of 5 days of no carbs, I was looking forward to a feeling of boredom and seeing what was beckoning me from the kitchen. After all, since I had to stay close to the kitty, a trip to the mall for some boredom induced shopping was out of the question. One vice tucked away, another one waiting for some action! Let the weekend begin…
Friday
My long lost friend Hailey, who has been MIA for months, came over for a dinner of salad, pizza and beer. She brought the beer, I made the pizza and salad. The salad was your standard garden variety – lettuce, tomatoes, and red onion from the farmer’s market, accompanied by a colorful array of bell peppers left over from my carb free week. The pizza was where my wannabe foodie status shined through. I made two pies – a mushroom, onion and green pepper pizza, and a bacon and scallop pizza (I stole this idea from the British Beer Company – sounds gross, but it’s actually quite delicious).
The pizza dough was homemade, made with bread flour instead of all-purpose flour, as recommended by the fine chefs at America’s Test Kitchen, and resulting in a much chewier and bread-like crust. For the sauce, I bought a can of Pastene spaghetti sauce, which is really nothing more than canned tomatoes with a little seasoning thrown in (I honestly can’t taste the difference, but I’ll take their word for it). Instead of accepting it as is, I chose to dress it up a little. I sautéed some fresh garlic in olive oil, stirred in the tomatoes, added some kosher salt and let it simmer for about 15 minutes. I then pureed it with a hand blender to smooth out any remaining chunkiness (I prefer my pizza sauce smooth, unless I’m eating at Bertucci’s). After taking it off the heat, I stirred in some chopped fresh parsley, basil and oregano. I even grated some fresh mozzarella, but it was way too watery, and that tends to result in a very soggy pizza. Even though bad pizza is still pretty good, I wasn’t willing to settle for pretty good. Fortunately, I had an emergency bag of never fail shredded mozzarella on hand.
There is truly no better way to introduce carbs back into your life than with pizza and beer. These pizzas definitely hit the spot (as did the beer). And since there is plenty left over, I’ll be eating it all week long! I’m guessing I shouldn’t get used to my jeans fitting again.
Saturday
I love the fall because I love most things pumpkin – seeds, soup, coffee, beer and bread (oddly, I could take or leave pumpkin pie). Feeling the season while I was at the grocery store, I bought a little sugar pumpkin so that I could roast my first batch of seeds of the season. As I was scooping out the seeds, I decided to make some pumpkin bread as well. I have a whole pumpkin that’s otherwise going in the trash, and a whole night of nothing to do. Then I had an even better idea – I’ll make two batches of pumpkin bread, one with fresh pumpkin and one with canned, and see which tastes better.
I started with the fresh pumpkin. I peeled the pumpkin by cutting the skin off and miraculously sparing all of my fingers, and then cut it into chunks. I put half the chunks in the blender and pureed them. After that, I thought I should go online and make sure I was actually preparing fresh pumpkin correctly. Turns out, I’m supposed to cook the pumpkin before pureeing it. Who knew? Most of the techniques I found online suggested roasting the pumpkin, but that would take about an hour and I really wanted a short cut. So, after much searching, I found one website that said I could microwave the pumpkin. So, the second half of chunks got microwaved on medium in a dish covered with plastic wrap for five minutes. You know how they tell you to be careful when you remove plastic wrap from something you just cooked in the microwave? Yeah, they’re not kidding about that. I threw caution to the wind, and hastily removed the plastic wrap. After a few choice curse words, a cold water bath, and some triple antibiotic ointment (the steam literally melted a layer of skin off my thumb – just a small bit, right below the finger nail, but it hurt like another very choice curse word), the pumpkin was ready to be transferred to the blender. It was definitely a little easier to puree, but the two batches didn’t taste any different so my thumb was burned in vain. I combined both the pureed cooked and raw pumpkin in a saucepan to cook on the stove top, allowing some of the water to burn off. Now, I was finally ready to make pumpkin bread!!
I made the fresh batch first, then followed with the canned batch. The fresh pumpkin required about 10 minutes longer to bake, and it did not rise as high as the canned. The canned had a more orange hue than the fresh. But the true test is the taste, and in my opinion, they tasted exactly the same. I was about to conclude that fresh pumpkin adds nothing, and is so not worth the extra work, when I realized that a sample size of one is not very valid. So I brought both versions to my parents house, where they and my sister blind tasted both and tried to guess which was fresh and which was canned. All three thought that the canned version was made with the fresh pumpkin, and both Mom and Dad thought the canned one tasted better (maybe because they thought it was fresh). My sister thought the fresh, which she thought was the canned, tasted better.
Given the broader sample size, it is now safe to conclude that fresh pumpkin adds nothing and is so not worth the extra effort.
Sunday
By Sunday, I was all cooked out. And I still didn’t want to leave the cat alone for too long, so the mall was still out of the question. Instead, the internet beckoned. I went online intending to learn more about the chefs competing on the Next Iron Chef that is premiering tonight, and then got distracted by the Food Network’s online store. I’ve had three things on my foodie wish list for a while – measuring cups, measuring spoons, and knives. I have sets of all of these, but I want better sets. Need? No, of course not. Want? You bet!
My wish list is empty, for now. I found a set of measuring cups by Oxo that included the standard measures (1/4, 1/3, 1/2, and 1 cups) plus a 2/3 cup, 3/4 cup and an egg separator. I know I can do the math, and measure these amounts using a combination of the standard cups (but surprisingly, a lot of the reviewers felt they couldn’t make recipes that called for 3/4 cup of flour until they bought this set), but it’s just easier to have these cups and it’s cool, too. (Yes, it is.) And, at $7.95 a set, how could I pass them up? Now, for the set of measuring spoons. The ones I have are fine. But they are awkward. They don’t fit into most spice jars and that alone makes them really annoying. I waste more dried herbs and spices because I have to try to pour them into a measuring spoon. While not the end of the world, it’s a pain I can live without. Cuisipro had a set of spoons that are long and skinny (claiming to fit into all spice jars), and had a pointed tip to help scrape up the last bits of an almost empty jar. These two have an array of sizes that are not in the standard mix of spoons – pinch, 1/8, 1/4, 1/2, 2/3, 1, 1 1/2, and 2 teaspoon sizes, plus the 1 tablespoon size. They were a little pricey for measuring spoons, $17.95, but not unreasonable (and to be honest, I have no idea what good measuring spoons cost).
The last item on my wish list, a new set of knives, was a harder decision. The Food Network Store was having a sale on Wusthof’s Gourmet line of knives, so a deal was to be had. In order for me to buy a new set, it needs to offer me more than what I currently have. I had my eye on the 18 piece set for $350 (marked down from $400, and compared to the suggested retail price of $548. The 18 piece set includes 9 legitimate knives, a sharpening steel, a pair of kitchen shears, 6 steak knives and a knife block. Before clicking on “buy,” I needed to do more homework. I learned that the Gourmet line is Wusthof’s economy line, but the reviews were all really strong (and not just from people who bought them, but from actual product testers) and they hold up to the higher end knives from Wusthof. I’m glad I did my research, because I was able to find another site (www.cutleryandmore.com) that was selling the exact same set for $280 – plus a bonus knife sharpener and a three piece cook’s set that includes a cutting board, a second pair of cooking shears and a fish spatula. I’ve always wanted a fish spatula! The extra $70 in savings and the added value from the bonus gifts sold me. My new knives should be here by the end of the week (free shipping!) and I PROMISE that I’ll take much better care of these ones than I do my Calphalon knives. (I can’t wait to use my new tomato knife!)
So, at the end of the weekend, I succumbed to both of my boredom induced vices – eating and shopping. After spending 4 straight days babysitting my cat, I deserved this!
It was a quiet weekend at home for me. My cat had surgery during the week, so I didn’t make any plans in order to keep an eye on her. (Post-surgical orders included “no jumping.” How do you stop a cat from jumping up on things? It’s not like she’ll listen to me…) After a week of no carbs, or more truthfully 4 out of 5 days of no carbs, I was looking forward to a feeling of boredom and seeing what was beckoning me from the kitchen. After all, since I had to stay close to the kitty, a trip to the mall for some boredom induced shopping was out of the question. One vice tucked away, another one waiting for some action! Let the weekend begin…
Friday
My long lost friend Hailey, who has been MIA for months, came over for a dinner of salad, pizza and beer. She brought the beer, I made the pizza and salad. The salad was your standard garden variety – lettuce, tomatoes, and red onion from the farmer’s market, accompanied by a colorful array of bell peppers left over from my carb free week. The pizza was where my wannabe foodie status shined through. I made two pies – a mushroom, onion and green pepper pizza, and a bacon and scallop pizza (I stole this idea from the British Beer Company – sounds gross, but it’s actually quite delicious).
The pizza dough was homemade, made with bread flour instead of all-purpose flour, as recommended by the fine chefs at America’s Test Kitchen, and resulting in a much chewier and bread-like crust. For the sauce, I bought a can of Pastene spaghetti sauce, which is really nothing more than canned tomatoes with a little seasoning thrown in (I honestly can’t taste the difference, but I’ll take their word for it). Instead of accepting it as is, I chose to dress it up a little. I sautéed some fresh garlic in olive oil, stirred in the tomatoes, added some kosher salt and let it simmer for about 15 minutes. I then pureed it with a hand blender to smooth out any remaining chunkiness (I prefer my pizza sauce smooth, unless I’m eating at Bertucci’s). After taking it off the heat, I stirred in some chopped fresh parsley, basil and oregano. I even grated some fresh mozzarella, but it was way too watery, and that tends to result in a very soggy pizza. Even though bad pizza is still pretty good, I wasn’t willing to settle for pretty good. Fortunately, I had an emergency bag of never fail shredded mozzarella on hand.
There is truly no better way to introduce carbs back into your life than with pizza and beer. These pizzas definitely hit the spot (as did the beer). And since there is plenty left over, I’ll be eating it all week long! I’m guessing I shouldn’t get used to my jeans fitting again.
Saturday
I love the fall because I love most things pumpkin – seeds, soup, coffee, beer and bread (oddly, I could take or leave pumpkin pie). Feeling the season while I was at the grocery store, I bought a little sugar pumpkin so that I could roast my first batch of seeds of the season. As I was scooping out the seeds, I decided to make some pumpkin bread as well. I have a whole pumpkin that’s otherwise going in the trash, and a whole night of nothing to do. Then I had an even better idea – I’ll make two batches of pumpkin bread, one with fresh pumpkin and one with canned, and see which tastes better.
I started with the fresh pumpkin. I peeled the pumpkin by cutting the skin off and miraculously sparing all of my fingers, and then cut it into chunks. I put half the chunks in the blender and pureed them. After that, I thought I should go online and make sure I was actually preparing fresh pumpkin correctly. Turns out, I’m supposed to cook the pumpkin before pureeing it. Who knew? Most of the techniques I found online suggested roasting the pumpkin, but that would take about an hour and I really wanted a short cut. So, after much searching, I found one website that said I could microwave the pumpkin. So, the second half of chunks got microwaved on medium in a dish covered with plastic wrap for five minutes. You know how they tell you to be careful when you remove plastic wrap from something you just cooked in the microwave? Yeah, they’re not kidding about that. I threw caution to the wind, and hastily removed the plastic wrap. After a few choice curse words, a cold water bath, and some triple antibiotic ointment (the steam literally melted a layer of skin off my thumb – just a small bit, right below the finger nail, but it hurt like another very choice curse word), the pumpkin was ready to be transferred to the blender. It was definitely a little easier to puree, but the two batches didn’t taste any different so my thumb was burned in vain. I combined both the pureed cooked and raw pumpkin in a saucepan to cook on the stove top, allowing some of the water to burn off. Now, I was finally ready to make pumpkin bread!!
I made the fresh batch first, then followed with the canned batch. The fresh pumpkin required about 10 minutes longer to bake, and it did not rise as high as the canned. The canned had a more orange hue than the fresh. But the true test is the taste, and in my opinion, they tasted exactly the same. I was about to conclude that fresh pumpkin adds nothing, and is so not worth the extra work, when I realized that a sample size of one is not very valid. So I brought both versions to my parents house, where they and my sister blind tasted both and tried to guess which was fresh and which was canned. All three thought that the canned version was made with the fresh pumpkin, and both Mom and Dad thought the canned one tasted better (maybe because they thought it was fresh). My sister thought the fresh, which she thought was the canned, tasted better.
Given the broader sample size, it is now safe to conclude that fresh pumpkin adds nothing and is so not worth the extra effort.
Sunday
By Sunday, I was all cooked out. And I still didn’t want to leave the cat alone for too long, so the mall was still out of the question. Instead, the internet beckoned. I went online intending to learn more about the chefs competing on the Next Iron Chef that is premiering tonight, and then got distracted by the Food Network’s online store. I’ve had three things on my foodie wish list for a while – measuring cups, measuring spoons, and knives. I have sets of all of these, but I want better sets. Need? No, of course not. Want? You bet!
My wish list is empty, for now. I found a set of measuring cups by Oxo that included the standard measures (1/4, 1/3, 1/2, and 1 cups) plus a 2/3 cup, 3/4 cup and an egg separator. I know I can do the math, and measure these amounts using a combination of the standard cups (but surprisingly, a lot of the reviewers felt they couldn’t make recipes that called for 3/4 cup of flour until they bought this set), but it’s just easier to have these cups and it’s cool, too. (Yes, it is.) And, at $7.95 a set, how could I pass them up? Now, for the set of measuring spoons. The ones I have are fine. But they are awkward. They don’t fit into most spice jars and that alone makes them really annoying. I waste more dried herbs and spices because I have to try to pour them into a measuring spoon. While not the end of the world, it’s a pain I can live without. Cuisipro had a set of spoons that are long and skinny (claiming to fit into all spice jars), and had a pointed tip to help scrape up the last bits of an almost empty jar. These two have an array of sizes that are not in the standard mix of spoons – pinch, 1/8, 1/4, 1/2, 2/3, 1, 1 1/2, and 2 teaspoon sizes, plus the 1 tablespoon size. They were a little pricey for measuring spoons, $17.95, but not unreasonable (and to be honest, I have no idea what good measuring spoons cost).
The last item on my wish list, a new set of knives, was a harder decision. The Food Network Store was having a sale on Wusthof’s Gourmet line of knives, so a deal was to be had. In order for me to buy a new set, it needs to offer me more than what I currently have. I had my eye on the 18 piece set for $350 (marked down from $400, and compared to the suggested retail price of $548. The 18 piece set includes 9 legitimate knives, a sharpening steel, a pair of kitchen shears, 6 steak knives and a knife block. Before clicking on “buy,” I needed to do more homework. I learned that the Gourmet line is Wusthof’s economy line, but the reviews were all really strong (and not just from people who bought them, but from actual product testers) and they hold up to the higher end knives from Wusthof. I’m glad I did my research, because I was able to find another site (www.cutleryandmore.com) that was selling the exact same set for $280 – plus a bonus knife sharpener and a three piece cook’s set that includes a cutting board, a second pair of cooking shears and a fish spatula. I’ve always wanted a fish spatula! The extra $70 in savings and the added value from the bonus gifts sold me. My new knives should be here by the end of the week (free shipping!) and I PROMISE that I’ll take much better care of these ones than I do my Calphalon knives. (I can’t wait to use my new tomato knife!)
So, at the end of the weekend, I succumbed to both of my boredom induced vices – eating and shopping. After spending 4 straight days babysitting my cat, I deserved this!
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Emphasis on Wannabe...
There’s a reason I’m a wannabe foodie. Because legitimate foodies do not go on no-carb diets!!
No sir-ee. A legitimate foodie knows enough to eat everything in moderation so they can continue to enjoy and appreciate all kinds of delectable foods while still fitting into their jeans. Legitimate foodies don’t have to resort to such drastic measures because they succumbed to the temptation of Chex Mix and a bag of Cadbury bars brought back from Ireland.
After a week’s vacation, where I hate to destroy the illusion but calories really do count, and another week of trading in air popped popcorn for Cadbury bars and Chex Mix every night (see last week’s Great Buffalo Experiment), this wannabe foodie is finding her skirts a little too tight. I was hoping the extra vacation pounds would just melt away when I got back to my normal eating habits, but I can’t seem to get back to my normal eating habits. The only way it seems to do that is to give up carbs for a week (or two, if necessary). After that, my normal diet will feel luxurious and I’ll forget about all that glorious Chex Mix. (I finished off the Cadbury bars before I came to this inevitable conclusion.)
The first step of Operation No Carbs was to rid my kitchen of any and all carbs. Bread worth saving was relegated to the freezer, anything else was tossed out. The fridge was cleaned, and the cabinets that were once stocked full of various types of pasta are now empty. Seriously, go see for yourself – all that is left is a can of chick peas, a jar of peanut butter and an envelope of onion soup mix. Don’t worry, I hate to waste food so none of those lovely carbs were thrown away – they have been packed away for future consumption. I didn’t have to get them out of my house, just out of my kitchen.
The next step was a visit to my local farmer’s market. I bought some beautiful lettuce varieties from one farmer (a lovely Korean family, and for the life of me I cannot remember the name of their farm), and then hit my favorite – Freitas Farm. Their produce is simply the best. I’ve bought from the other farms, and Freitas goods are by far the freshest. I filled up my bag with tomatoes, green beans, summer and winter squash. Seeing that I was giving up carbs, I had to turn my back on the cantaloupe, corn and potatoes (at least for this week… we’ll see how it goes and re-visit this decision next week).
Once I got my fill at the farmer’s market, I hit the grocery store for the rest of the items on my shopping list – lowfat cottage cheese, fat free/sugar free yogurt, fish, reduced fat turkey and cheese from the deli, a rainbow of bell peppers, turkey bacon, and a dozen eggs. I ignored the crackers, shunned the chips, and turned my nose up at the cookies. The only thing resembling a carb in my basket was the latest issue of Gourmet magazine.
When I arrived home, I started right in on the prep work. I sliced all the bell peppers into strips and made a white bean dip from a recipe I found to eat with the peppers for snacks. The dip is pretty good – it contains cannellini beans, fresh parsley, garlic, olive oil and lemon juice. The parsley makes it an odd shade of green and the garlic is a tad overwhelming, but at least it’ll keep people from bothering me unnecessarily at work. I steamed up some asparagus that I had on hand. I’ll spread a little bit of low fat mayonnaise on a slice of the deli turkey and wrap that around the asparagus with a slice of cheese for another snack (surprisingly tasty). I cooked the entire package of turkey bacon, and hard boiled the dozen eggs (breakfast is served). When I’m craving something sweet, I’ll mix some Splenda and vanilla in with the fat free/sugar free yogurt.
My “at work” dining was now taken care of, but how do I get through the rest of the weekend? Well, my first decision was to wait until Sunday to start the no carb eating plan. That was an easy way to deal with Saturday! (If only I had made that decision a little earlier, I could have grabbed a donut for breakfast instead of limiting myself to plain ol’ yogurt.)
One of my favorite things about fall is watching Sunday afternoon football with the aroma of a roast in the oven – not to mention the anticipation of enjoying the roast for dinner. A Sunday roast is easy enough to pull off without carbs, so to work I went. I had picked up a boneless pork rib roast last week, and decided to open it up and stuff it with fresh herbs, garlic, spinach and mushrooms. I then rolled the roast and tied it, browned it on all four sides before transferring it to the oven, where it joined an acorn squash that had been seasoned with olive oil, Splenda and pumpkin pie spice. Fresh green beans were steamed to add a little color and increase the green veggie intake.
I succeeded in having a carb-free meal, but it wasn’t all that good. It wasn’t bad per se, but it was not nearly as good as I hoped. The roast was cooked perfectly, but the stuffing did not add much to the dish. I like pork, but find that it always needs something else to go along with it. Other than apple sauce (which wouldn’t be allowed this week), I have not been able to figure out a good accompaniment to make it a dish I crave. In any event, the squash and green beans were delicious, and I was able to eat around the stuffing and appreciate the pork on its own.
So, I’ll see how this first carb-free week goes, and hopefully it’s all I need to feel comfortable in my skirts again. Then I can take back my wannabe foodie claim, and re-start my quest to be a bona fide foodie.
For those of you interested in my pork recipe, here it is. I would love to hear your ideas on stuffing (carb free or carb full), or any other improvements I can make to this recipe.
1/4 cup chopped fresh rosemary
1/3 cup each chopped fresh basil, parsley and oregano
1 teaspoon each dried marjoram and dried thyme
4 cloves garlic, crushed
1 ½ teaspoon kosher salt
1/2 teaspoon fresh ground pepper
1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
1 cup chopped white mushrooms
2 cup chopped fresh spinach
1-2 lb boneless pork rib roast
Salt and pepper to season meat
Extra virgin olive oil for browning
Preheat oven to 325. Mix together the herbs, garlic, kosher salt, ground pepper and olive oil. Set aside. Saute the mushrooms and spinach, add to the herb mixture and mix well. Trim any chunks of fat from the pork. Cut the top third of the roast almost all the way across, open the roast, and repeat the slice from the opposite side halfway down the remaining thickness. Open the roast flat. Season both sides with salt and pepper, and rub with olive oil. Spread the herb/veggie mixture evenly across the length of the meat. Roll the meat up, doing your best to keep the filling inside but don’t worry if you lose some. Cut 4 pieces of kitchen twine, each about a foot long. Tie the roast snuggly at even intervals. Heat olive oil on the stove in a dutch oven. Brown each side of the roast for two minutes. Transfer to the oven, and roast for approx. 30 minutes per pound. When the roast reaches 160 degrees, remove from the oven, and let rest for 10 minutes. Slice the roast, removing the twine as you get to it. Serve!
No sir-ee. A legitimate foodie knows enough to eat everything in moderation so they can continue to enjoy and appreciate all kinds of delectable foods while still fitting into their jeans. Legitimate foodies don’t have to resort to such drastic measures because they succumbed to the temptation of Chex Mix and a bag of Cadbury bars brought back from Ireland.
After a week’s vacation, where I hate to destroy the illusion but calories really do count, and another week of trading in air popped popcorn for Cadbury bars and Chex Mix every night (see last week’s Great Buffalo Experiment), this wannabe foodie is finding her skirts a little too tight. I was hoping the extra vacation pounds would just melt away when I got back to my normal eating habits, but I can’t seem to get back to my normal eating habits. The only way it seems to do that is to give up carbs for a week (or two, if necessary). After that, my normal diet will feel luxurious and I’ll forget about all that glorious Chex Mix. (I finished off the Cadbury bars before I came to this inevitable conclusion.)
The first step of Operation No Carbs was to rid my kitchen of any and all carbs. Bread worth saving was relegated to the freezer, anything else was tossed out. The fridge was cleaned, and the cabinets that were once stocked full of various types of pasta are now empty. Seriously, go see for yourself – all that is left is a can of chick peas, a jar of peanut butter and an envelope of onion soup mix. Don’t worry, I hate to waste food so none of those lovely carbs were thrown away – they have been packed away for future consumption. I didn’t have to get them out of my house, just out of my kitchen.
The next step was a visit to my local farmer’s market. I bought some beautiful lettuce varieties from one farmer (a lovely Korean family, and for the life of me I cannot remember the name of their farm), and then hit my favorite – Freitas Farm. Their produce is simply the best. I’ve bought from the other farms, and Freitas goods are by far the freshest. I filled up my bag with tomatoes, green beans, summer and winter squash. Seeing that I was giving up carbs, I had to turn my back on the cantaloupe, corn and potatoes (at least for this week… we’ll see how it goes and re-visit this decision next week).
Once I got my fill at the farmer’s market, I hit the grocery store for the rest of the items on my shopping list – lowfat cottage cheese, fat free/sugar free yogurt, fish, reduced fat turkey and cheese from the deli, a rainbow of bell peppers, turkey bacon, and a dozen eggs. I ignored the crackers, shunned the chips, and turned my nose up at the cookies. The only thing resembling a carb in my basket was the latest issue of Gourmet magazine.
When I arrived home, I started right in on the prep work. I sliced all the bell peppers into strips and made a white bean dip from a recipe I found to eat with the peppers for snacks. The dip is pretty good – it contains cannellini beans, fresh parsley, garlic, olive oil and lemon juice. The parsley makes it an odd shade of green and the garlic is a tad overwhelming, but at least it’ll keep people from bothering me unnecessarily at work. I steamed up some asparagus that I had on hand. I’ll spread a little bit of low fat mayonnaise on a slice of the deli turkey and wrap that around the asparagus with a slice of cheese for another snack (surprisingly tasty). I cooked the entire package of turkey bacon, and hard boiled the dozen eggs (breakfast is served). When I’m craving something sweet, I’ll mix some Splenda and vanilla in with the fat free/sugar free yogurt.
My “at work” dining was now taken care of, but how do I get through the rest of the weekend? Well, my first decision was to wait until Sunday to start the no carb eating plan. That was an easy way to deal with Saturday! (If only I had made that decision a little earlier, I could have grabbed a donut for breakfast instead of limiting myself to plain ol’ yogurt.)
One of my favorite things about fall is watching Sunday afternoon football with the aroma of a roast in the oven – not to mention the anticipation of enjoying the roast for dinner. A Sunday roast is easy enough to pull off without carbs, so to work I went. I had picked up a boneless pork rib roast last week, and decided to open it up and stuff it with fresh herbs, garlic, spinach and mushrooms. I then rolled the roast and tied it, browned it on all four sides before transferring it to the oven, where it joined an acorn squash that had been seasoned with olive oil, Splenda and pumpkin pie spice. Fresh green beans were steamed to add a little color and increase the green veggie intake.
I succeeded in having a carb-free meal, but it wasn’t all that good. It wasn’t bad per se, but it was not nearly as good as I hoped. The roast was cooked perfectly, but the stuffing did not add much to the dish. I like pork, but find that it always needs something else to go along with it. Other than apple sauce (which wouldn’t be allowed this week), I have not been able to figure out a good accompaniment to make it a dish I crave. In any event, the squash and green beans were delicious, and I was able to eat around the stuffing and appreciate the pork on its own.
So, I’ll see how this first carb-free week goes, and hopefully it’s all I need to feel comfortable in my skirts again. Then I can take back my wannabe foodie claim, and re-start my quest to be a bona fide foodie.
For those of you interested in my pork recipe, here it is. I would love to hear your ideas on stuffing (carb free or carb full), or any other improvements I can make to this recipe.
1/4 cup chopped fresh rosemary
1/3 cup each chopped fresh basil, parsley and oregano
1 teaspoon each dried marjoram and dried thyme
4 cloves garlic, crushed
1 ½ teaspoon kosher salt
1/2 teaspoon fresh ground pepper
1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
1 cup chopped white mushrooms
2 cup chopped fresh spinach
1-2 lb boneless pork rib roast
Salt and pepper to season meat
Extra virgin olive oil for browning
Preheat oven to 325. Mix together the herbs, garlic, kosher salt, ground pepper and olive oil. Set aside. Saute the mushrooms and spinach, add to the herb mixture and mix well. Trim any chunks of fat from the pork. Cut the top third of the roast almost all the way across, open the roast, and repeat the slice from the opposite side halfway down the remaining thickness. Open the roast flat. Season both sides with salt and pepper, and rub with olive oil. Spread the herb/veggie mixture evenly across the length of the meat. Roll the meat up, doing your best to keep the filling inside but don’t worry if you lose some. Cut 4 pieces of kitchen twine, each about a foot long. Tie the roast snuggly at even intervals. Heat olive oil on the stove in a dutch oven. Brown each side of the roast for two minutes. Transfer to the oven, and roast for approx. 30 minutes per pound. When the roast reaches 160 degrees, remove from the oven, and let rest for 10 minutes. Slice the roast, removing the twine as you get to it. Serve!
Sunday, September 20, 2009
The Great Buffalo Experiment
I have long been a believer that almost everything tastes better with buffalo sauce on it. It started simply with the wing – we all know what I’m talking about, I don’t need to explain it. It was probably the allure of the 10¢ wing in college that first drew me in. I might not have cared for the taste at first, but when it was all you could afford you quickly grew to love it.
I don’t think I considered that buffalo sauce had more applications beyond chicken until my friend Laurie uttered the now unforgettable words “let’s order the buffalo onion rings.” Yes, onion rings tossed in buffalo sauce and served with blue cheese dressing. Let your imagination go wild, they are as good as you will dream them to be. If the wing drew me in, the ring made me a believer.
EVERYTHING tastes better with buffalo sauce on it.
Legal Seafood once featured a special buffalo fried shrimp appetizer. Fantastic. The Popcorn Factory sells buffalo-ranch flavored popcorn. Addictive. You know that company that makes the honey-mustard-onion flavored pretzels? They also make a buffalo flavored pretzel. Unbelievable. I cannot even talk about the buffalo flavored fried buffalo mozzarella that Grill 23 offered on their short lived bar menu. (I can’t talk about it, because it hurts too much that they were eliminated with the bar menu. Phenomenal.)
Buffalo sauce is the new bacon.
Now that I’ve confirmed this theory, I decided to launch the Great Buffalo Experiment – re-creating two classic snacks with a buffalo twist.
The first is not original, but it had to be tried at home. Buffalo seasoned popcorn. As much as I love the one offered by The Popcorn Factory, I have better things to spend $10 on every week than a small tub of popcorn. The process was simple. I used my air popper to pop a bowl of popcorn. I then added one tablespoon of Frank’s Hot Sauce to one tablespoon of melted butter to make the buffalo sauce, and tossed it with the popcorn. The end result? Not bad. Some of the pieces of popcorn got a little too drenched with the sauce and sort of disintegrated. But most of the popcorn was pretty good. The downside was it was really messy – much more so than regular melted butter. I needed a lot of napkins, and my hands were pretty orange when I was done (nothing a little soap and water couldn’t handle, though).
The second part of the experiment was a little more creative (in my opinion), and a lot less messy. I’m a big fan of Chex Mix – not the kind you buy pre-made in the store for a few bucks, but the kind you spend $20 on ingredients to make yourself. It may cost ten times as much, but the homemade Chex Mix is waaaaay better than the packaged kind. If you don’t know this firsthand, please go out and try it. It’s worth it. But I digress…
Yes, I made buffalo Chex Mix. I basically took the standard recipe, but instead of Worcestershire sauce, I used eight tablespoons of Frank’s Hot Sauce. I basically added one tablespoon at a time until the sauce had more of a buffalo taste and less of a butter taste. This happened after eight tablespoons, which resulted in far more sauce than the standard recipe (it typically calls for two tablespoons of Worcestershire sauce). So, I had to bake it for an extra 15 minutes to make sure it was crisp enough. At the end of the day, buffalo Chex Mix may be the exception to the “everything tastes better with buffalo sauce” rule. The snack mix was pretty good, don’t get me wrong, but it couldn’t stand up to the original. To be completely sure, I also made a batch of the original and conducted a comprehensive taste test. 100% of the tasters agreed that the original was better, but the buffalo version wasn’t bad. Okay, I was the only taster. Give me a break.
I am standing by my original statement with only a slight modification. Pretty much everything tastes better with buffalo sauce. After all, every rule needs its exception.
I don’t think I considered that buffalo sauce had more applications beyond chicken until my friend Laurie uttered the now unforgettable words “let’s order the buffalo onion rings.” Yes, onion rings tossed in buffalo sauce and served with blue cheese dressing. Let your imagination go wild, they are as good as you will dream them to be. If the wing drew me in, the ring made me a believer.
EVERYTHING tastes better with buffalo sauce on it.
Legal Seafood once featured a special buffalo fried shrimp appetizer. Fantastic. The Popcorn Factory sells buffalo-ranch flavored popcorn. Addictive. You know that company that makes the honey-mustard-onion flavored pretzels? They also make a buffalo flavored pretzel. Unbelievable. I cannot even talk about the buffalo flavored fried buffalo mozzarella that Grill 23 offered on their short lived bar menu. (I can’t talk about it, because it hurts too much that they were eliminated with the bar menu. Phenomenal.)
Buffalo sauce is the new bacon.
Now that I’ve confirmed this theory, I decided to launch the Great Buffalo Experiment – re-creating two classic snacks with a buffalo twist.
The first is not original, but it had to be tried at home. Buffalo seasoned popcorn. As much as I love the one offered by The Popcorn Factory, I have better things to spend $10 on every week than a small tub of popcorn. The process was simple. I used my air popper to pop a bowl of popcorn. I then added one tablespoon of Frank’s Hot Sauce to one tablespoon of melted butter to make the buffalo sauce, and tossed it with the popcorn. The end result? Not bad. Some of the pieces of popcorn got a little too drenched with the sauce and sort of disintegrated. But most of the popcorn was pretty good. The downside was it was really messy – much more so than regular melted butter. I needed a lot of napkins, and my hands were pretty orange when I was done (nothing a little soap and water couldn’t handle, though).
The second part of the experiment was a little more creative (in my opinion), and a lot less messy. I’m a big fan of Chex Mix – not the kind you buy pre-made in the store for a few bucks, but the kind you spend $20 on ingredients to make yourself. It may cost ten times as much, but the homemade Chex Mix is waaaaay better than the packaged kind. If you don’t know this firsthand, please go out and try it. It’s worth it. But I digress…
Yes, I made buffalo Chex Mix. I basically took the standard recipe, but instead of Worcestershire sauce, I used eight tablespoons of Frank’s Hot Sauce. I basically added one tablespoon at a time until the sauce had more of a buffalo taste and less of a butter taste. This happened after eight tablespoons, which resulted in far more sauce than the standard recipe (it typically calls for two tablespoons of Worcestershire sauce). So, I had to bake it for an extra 15 minutes to make sure it was crisp enough. At the end of the day, buffalo Chex Mix may be the exception to the “everything tastes better with buffalo sauce” rule. The snack mix was pretty good, don’t get me wrong, but it couldn’t stand up to the original. To be completely sure, I also made a batch of the original and conducted a comprehensive taste test. 100% of the tasters agreed that the original was better, but the buffalo version wasn’t bad. Okay, I was the only taster. Give me a break.
I am standing by my original statement with only a slight modification. Pretty much everything tastes better with buffalo sauce. After all, every rule needs its exception.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
A Long Weekend of Eating
There’s something about the weekend that makes me feel like I can eat whatever I want, whenever I want. And I usually do. Unfortunately, I never find myself saying “I think I’ll eat a bowlful of carrot sticks.” No, it’s always crap – potato chips, nachos, and stuff with lots and lots of butter. This past weekend was no different.
The weekend started out innocently enough. I met my friend Jen for dinner in Burlington, MA. The last time I was in Burlington (let me count the years…), the dining choices were limited to your standard chain fare – Rainforest Café, Macaroni Grill, Uno’s, and if you wanted to dig a little deeper, Legal Seafood. But Jen suggested a restaurant I had never heard of – L’Andana, right off of 95 on route 3A (www.landanagrill.com). L’Andana is a very elegant, yet not overly pretentious, Tuscan-style Italian restaurant (with free valet parking!). We grabbed two seats at the bar, and enjoyed a couple of cocktails before digging into some calamari and wood grilled pizzas. Jen ordered the margherita and I got the sopressata pizza. Both pizzas were perfectly sized for one person. The margherita was perfect – it’s the classic pizza in my opinion. Perfectly sauced, and deliciously cheesy with the unmistakable aroma of fresh basil. Yum. The sopressata was great too – in addition to the classic Italian cold cut, it included pepperoncini. Normally, I wouldn’t be drawn to a sopressata pizza, but I was sold on the pepperoncini. I have loved pepperoncini since I was a young kid and my parents told me not to eat one because I wouldn’t like it. (Incidentally, 30-some odd years later, they still haven’t figured out that I will always be driven to do the opposite of what they tell me.) The pizza was delicious! And, the service we received at the bar also needs to be recognized. If you read my post on bar service from a couple of weeks ago, you’ll know how happy I am for this to be redeemed. I wish I caught the bartender’s name, because she was great. She was attentive when we needed her to be, and left us alone to chat and catch up the rest of the time.
It’s a good thing that L’Andana was so great, because the rest of the weekend was not so inspired.
After a strong start at the farmer’s market on Saturday morning (in the pouring rain, nonetheless), armed with loads of fresh vegetables, I stocked up on snacks at the grocery store for an evening snack-a-palooza. The vegetables would have to wait (as well as my skinny jeans). Potato chips & clam dip, pretzels, pepperoncini (see?), and cheese & crackers. It was at the same time a very good and a very bad decision. Hey, what’s one day, right?
Snack-a-palooza part two was held on Sunday. Well, not quite that bad. There was some clam dip left over from snack-a-palooza one, and rather than waste it by pouring it down the garbage disposal (the smart thing to do), I chose to finish it off (the wrong thing to do). Let’s just call it lunch, and be done with it.
Sunday wasn’t a total wash, though. I did make – from scratch – a tarte tatin. That’s French for upside down apple tart. The biggest success of this dish was the pastry dough. It came together perfectly; unfortunately it didn’t roll out with the same success. Actually, it rolled out fine – a perfect 14” circle to top the apples and what was supposed to eventually turn into caramel but never did. It was the transfer from the counter to the pan that proved to be difficult. I did my best to patch the tears and re-attach the pieces that just fell off. I was thankful that the crust ends up on the bottom where my “handi-work” could be concealed. When the tart finally came out of the oven, and was turned over onto a serving dish, it looked ridiculous. The caramel didn’t caramelize, and the apples, while tasty, looked awfully unappetizing. I’m trying really hard to describe how it looked, but every sentence I type is not capturing the visual. Fortunately, my sister assured me it tasted good. So, I’ll call it a semi-successful effort. At least I know I can make pastry dough – it’s the utilizing it that I have to work on.
The best part was the vanilla bean mascarpone ice cream I made to serve with the tarte tatin. I don’t know why it’s called ice cream, since it’s neither frozen nor does it contain cream. It’s basically mascarpone cheese, confectioners sugar, vanilla extract, and the seeds from one half of a vanilla bean – mixed together and refrigerated for a half hour before serving. Truly my proudest moment was splitting the vanilla bean and scraping out the seeds with a paring knife… without cutting myself!!! I know I sound overly proud, but I am not so good with the knife. Accidents have been known to happen.
My time this weekend was split between being a wannabe foodie and being a binge eater, and therefore I’m spending the week eating all those vegetables I bought at the farmer’s market. With any luck, I’ll be back in my skinny jeans by Friday and I can start the cycle all over again.
The weekend started out innocently enough. I met my friend Jen for dinner in Burlington, MA. The last time I was in Burlington (let me count the years…), the dining choices were limited to your standard chain fare – Rainforest Café, Macaroni Grill, Uno’s, and if you wanted to dig a little deeper, Legal Seafood. But Jen suggested a restaurant I had never heard of – L’Andana, right off of 95 on route 3A (www.landanagrill.com). L’Andana is a very elegant, yet not overly pretentious, Tuscan-style Italian restaurant (with free valet parking!). We grabbed two seats at the bar, and enjoyed a couple of cocktails before digging into some calamari and wood grilled pizzas. Jen ordered the margherita and I got the sopressata pizza. Both pizzas were perfectly sized for one person. The margherita was perfect – it’s the classic pizza in my opinion. Perfectly sauced, and deliciously cheesy with the unmistakable aroma of fresh basil. Yum. The sopressata was great too – in addition to the classic Italian cold cut, it included pepperoncini. Normally, I wouldn’t be drawn to a sopressata pizza, but I was sold on the pepperoncini. I have loved pepperoncini since I was a young kid and my parents told me not to eat one because I wouldn’t like it. (Incidentally, 30-some odd years later, they still haven’t figured out that I will always be driven to do the opposite of what they tell me.) The pizza was delicious! And, the service we received at the bar also needs to be recognized. If you read my post on bar service from a couple of weeks ago, you’ll know how happy I am for this to be redeemed. I wish I caught the bartender’s name, because she was great. She was attentive when we needed her to be, and left us alone to chat and catch up the rest of the time.
It’s a good thing that L’Andana was so great, because the rest of the weekend was not so inspired.
After a strong start at the farmer’s market on Saturday morning (in the pouring rain, nonetheless), armed with loads of fresh vegetables, I stocked up on snacks at the grocery store for an evening snack-a-palooza. The vegetables would have to wait (as well as my skinny jeans). Potato chips & clam dip, pretzels, pepperoncini (see?), and cheese & crackers. It was at the same time a very good and a very bad decision. Hey, what’s one day, right?
Snack-a-palooza part two was held on Sunday. Well, not quite that bad. There was some clam dip left over from snack-a-palooza one, and rather than waste it by pouring it down the garbage disposal (the smart thing to do), I chose to finish it off (the wrong thing to do). Let’s just call it lunch, and be done with it.
Sunday wasn’t a total wash, though. I did make – from scratch – a tarte tatin. That’s French for upside down apple tart. The biggest success of this dish was the pastry dough. It came together perfectly; unfortunately it didn’t roll out with the same success. Actually, it rolled out fine – a perfect 14” circle to top the apples and what was supposed to eventually turn into caramel but never did. It was the transfer from the counter to the pan that proved to be difficult. I did my best to patch the tears and re-attach the pieces that just fell off. I was thankful that the crust ends up on the bottom where my “handi-work” could be concealed. When the tart finally came out of the oven, and was turned over onto a serving dish, it looked ridiculous. The caramel didn’t caramelize, and the apples, while tasty, looked awfully unappetizing. I’m trying really hard to describe how it looked, but every sentence I type is not capturing the visual. Fortunately, my sister assured me it tasted good. So, I’ll call it a semi-successful effort. At least I know I can make pastry dough – it’s the utilizing it that I have to work on.
The best part was the vanilla bean mascarpone ice cream I made to serve with the tarte tatin. I don’t know why it’s called ice cream, since it’s neither frozen nor does it contain cream. It’s basically mascarpone cheese, confectioners sugar, vanilla extract, and the seeds from one half of a vanilla bean – mixed together and refrigerated for a half hour before serving. Truly my proudest moment was splitting the vanilla bean and scraping out the seeds with a paring knife… without cutting myself!!! I know I sound overly proud, but I am not so good with the knife. Accidents have been known to happen.
My time this weekend was split between being a wannabe foodie and being a binge eater, and therefore I’m spending the week eating all those vegetables I bought at the farmer’s market. With any luck, I’ll be back in my skinny jeans by Friday and I can start the cycle all over again.
Friday, September 11, 2009
There's more to Ireland than Guinness
I’m back from Dublin, and I do have to say that I was pleasantly surprised by the quality of food I ate while there. There were definitely some misses, but all in all it wasn’t a disaster. I won’t bore you with all the details, but I will touch upon the highlights…
Breakfast
Day one, we stopped at Keough’s Café for a quick bite while we waited for Dublin to awaken (we landed at Dublin airport at 4:45 am). Penelope and I each ordered a pear and vanilla scone with a white coffee. (White coffee is basically just coffee with milk, or some other “whitener.”) While the cup of coffee was very welcome after the long trip to Ireland, and the long day ahead, the scone was to die for. It was absolutely the best scone I’ve ever tasted. No description can do this scone justice – moist yet crumbly, flavorful yet delicate. In a word, perfection. We would have gone back there every morning for breakfast if we could have figured out how to find the place again.
We couldn’t leave Ireland without having a traditional Irish breakfast, and we found one on a Sunday morning at Foley’s Bar. An Irish breakfast consists of bacon and a fried egg, accompanied by toast, sausage, a grilled tomato, baked beans, mushrooms and black & white pudding. Okay, “traditional” is up for grabs, but this is what I was served. I know soda bread stands in for toast in a more traditional Irish breakfast, but that wasn’t a point I was going to argue with for various reasons (the primary one being that I don’t particularly care for soda bread). I ate the toast, egg, tomato, baked beans and mushrooms. I sampled the black & white pudding. While I naively hoped for one of those chocolate and vanilla Jell-O pudding cups, I fully expected something that was nothing like its name. The white pudding wasn’t that bad – it tasted of grains and reminded me of haggis. The black pudding was just too unsightly for me to try more than the tiniest of bites. For those of you who don’t know what black and white pudding is, I invite you to look it up on Wikipedia. I can’t bring myself to give you the details…. It’s that bad. Oh, and the bacon, where do I start? I don’t know what they do to bacon in Ireland and the UK, but it sucks. It’s very hard to ruin bacon, since it’s one of those foods that makes everything taste better. But these people ruin bacon. They just do. I don’t know what bacon did to deserve this harsh treatment.
Lunch
On our first day, we waited too long to eat lunch, so we were starving by the time we sat down to eat. I’m telling you this to explain why we ate lunch at the restaurant of a tourist site, the Old Jamesons Distillery – it was pretty much the first place we saw when we reached the point of no return. They have a café called The Third Still. We each ordered the Shepherd’s Pie. It was fine – not great, but not bad either. The most interesting thing to note is that it was served with a side of French fries. So, a mashed potato topped casserole was served with a side of fried potatoes. Yes, they do love their potatoes in Ireland. I can’t fault them for that, I love potatoes too. But it was definitely the work of an amateur chef to choose to serve that many potatoes on one dish.
After watching several travel shows on Dublin, we knew we had to have a meal at Gallagher’s Boxty House. A boxty is a potato pancake filled with some type of meat or fish covered with sauce. (Think a traditional pancake made with potatoes versus a latke.) I got the Gaelic boxty, which featured prime Irish filet steak medallions, marinated in whiskey and finished in a creamy mushroom and pepper sauce. I can’t stop thinking about it, it was that good. It’s up there with the pear and vanilla scone. I’m not typically a fan of cream sauces, but I love mushrooms and steak, and I wanted to try one of the specialties of the house, so I went for it. I devoured it. I may even be a cream sauce convert. We also ordered dessert, the bread and butter pudding. It sounds delicious, right? Guess again. It wasn’t horrible, but it wasn’t good. It was definitely a dessert that would get the chef kicked off of Top Chef. It was a tough way to end an otherwise delicious meal, but I’m left with the memory of the boxty and the yummy waiter who served us (soooo hot…), therefore I can try to forget about the bread and butter pudding. (For the record, this wasn’t a scary blood sausage type of pudding, either. Oops, did I give something away about my breakfast?)
Afternoon Tea
After having afternoon tea in London, Edinburgh and Boston, Penny and I knew we could not leave Dublin without partaking in this tradition. So on Sunday afternoon, we had tea at the Westbury Hotel. It was not the best experience… the waitress screwed up our order, and in her attempt to correct her error, she screwed it up again. There was a hair on one of the finger sandwiches (which were a little too big, by the way… they should have been called hand sandwiches), and the smoked salmon tasted a tad bit off in my opinion. And once the food was on our table, we never saw this chick again. Seriously, we sat there for at least 30 minutes waiting for our bill. We finally had to chase down another server to get our bill. We were prepared to not leave a tip because the service was just that bad (and tipping is not as customary in Ireland as it is here), but they included the service charge in the bill and I just wasn’t comfortable complaining about it. Besides, we wanted to get out of there and the thought of facing another 30 minute wait was worth the €7.50. I felt a little queasy later that day, but had a ginger ale and was good to go that night. Penny, on the other hand, woke up in the middle of the night and was sick for the next 24 hours – she spent the entire last day of our trip in bed (or in the bathroom, as the case may be). I attribute her sickness to the smoked salmon. While I had a bite and felt queasy, she ate the whole thing and could have been the MVP in the all Ireland hurling championship that was played that day, if you know what I mean. (There really was a championship hurling match played that day – congratulations Kilkenny – but it’s a legitimate and super cool sport that has nothing to do with being sick all day. Just want to set the record straight on that one.)
Dinner
Not a lot of highlights to speak of for dinner. Pizzas at Bewley’s Café v (eh), steak and chips at The Restaurant at Marks & Spencers (actually, really good), and McDonald’s. Penny pointed out that I have to eat at McDonald’s in every country we visit. I hadn’t thought about it… I don’t think it’s so much a mission of mine but a convenience, and I do love me my McDonald’s. Okay, it was a mission in Paris. I had to order the royale with cheese. (Believe it or not, they were all out. I had to settle for a frommage burger.)
All in all, the food was pretty good. It was my first trip overseas where I didn’t start to feel sick after two days, nor did I need to resort to eating strictly pasta with marinara sauce as I typically do (I lived on Italian food during my 12 day trip to Greece last year). That is definitely something for me! I’ll add pear and vanilla scones, as well as Gaelic boxties to my “to cook” list. I may even throw on a shepherd’s pie (hold the fries).
And while I did say in my title that there is more to Ireland than Guinness, I can’t neglect to mention how unbelievably excellent the Guinness is in its homeland. So smooth and rich, it’s significantly better than the Guinness you can get around here. Maybe it’s the perfect pour, or maybe it’s the water from the River Liffey. Whatever it is, it doesn’t matter how bad the food may be in Ireland, the Guinness alone is worth the trip every time. Now, when can I go back? Slainte!
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Off to Ireland!
I'm heading off to Ireland tomorrow, so the blog will be quiet for about a week. I know my many readers will be disappointed. But fret not! When I'm back, you'll hear all about my culinary adventures in Dublin.
Until then, dream of pints of Guinness, boxties, fish & chips, and corned beef & cabbage. Slainte!
Until then, dream of pints of Guinness, boxties, fish & chips, and corned beef & cabbage. Slainte!
Monday, August 31, 2009
Bar Service?
I am a fan of sitting at the bar in a restaurant. There’s usually a game on, it makes for much better people watching, and I usually get pretty attentive service. Usually. This past weekend though, not so much…
I met my sister for drinks and dinner at the new Big Papi’s Grille in Framingham. It used to be the Metro 9 Steakhouse, but the Red Sox’s David Ortiz lent his name to the restaurant, and it’s now the prime example of “build it, and he will come.” Two months ago, this place was empty. Now, it’s packed. Good for them. I wish I could say that the influx of business explains the bad bar service, but it was bad when the bar was empty, let alone full.
We were there a couple of months ago, had the bar practically to ourselves, and my sister ordered a dirty martini. Instead, she got dirty water. There’s no confusing the flavor of vodka for water, so that’s some pretty bad bartending. Anyway, I digress…
(I do feel the need to say that I did have an event at Metro 9, and I could not have asked for a better experience. Everything was perfect – absolutely FLAWLESS.)
We got there at 5:30 on Saturday evening, hoping it wouldn’t be so busy so we could get some attention from the bartenders. No luck – the bar was full, but we were able to get a seat after about 15 minutes. We each ordered a beer, and our glasses were pretty much empty for 15 minutes before we could get one of the three bartenders to give us the time of day. Now, when I say it was full, I mean the seats were all full – by no means was the bar mobbed. There was no excuse for empty glasses.
The gentleman sitting next to me ordered a Sam Adam’s Summer Ale. The bartender poured him an Octoberfest and put it in front of him without saying a word. At the very least, I would have expected her to say that they were all out of Summer Ale, and were now carrying Octoberfest as their seasonal beer. But no, the non-ordered beer was put in front of him without explanation. He took it in stride, but personally I have a problem drinking Octoberfest in August. But that’s just me.
At close to 7:30, after being there for two hours, we decided to leave to get a bite to eat. Yes, we could have eaten there, but the bartenders never once asked us if we were joining them for dinner, nor could we get their attention long enough to signal one of them for a menu. So we paid our tab and left.
On to bad bar experience number two.
We went from Big Papi’s to a small, family owned Italian restaurant in another part of town. There was a 40 minute wait for a table, so we decided to eat at the bar. Mistake.
There were three bartenders working there too, but we got stuck with the greasy sleaze-ball named Charlie. He started out fine by asking us where we got our fake ID’s (we’re both in our thirties). It wasn’t charming at all, but it was clear that he thought it was. We let it go – no big deal, just a bad joke. Then he started making jokes about having a threesome with us. From there, he started asking questions about whether our daddy spanked us hard enough (in that particular way that only a dirty old man can do). I kid you not. This is a man who works for tips. And needless to say, he didn’t get much of one…
I’m usually pretty good at letting these types of things go. Well, maybe not so much letting it go as not making a scene but talking about it for the rest of my life. I’m used to dirty old men. I’m a dirty old man magnet, for some reason. But this guy just got under my skin. He’s a bartender, in a family restaurant nonetheless. Now, granted, the families aren’t sitting at the bar, but the people at the bar tend to be indicative of a family-friendly clientele. Charlie was just so inappropriate. Never in my life have I even considered saying something to a restaurant manager, and I was pretty close to doing it that night. Bad jokes are one thing, being sexually harassed while trying to eat dinner is something entirely different.
Maybe I’ve been spoiled by my bartenders in the past. Or maybe I should just stick to my old stand-bys… not only would Patrick, Adam and Matt never ask me if I want to join them for a threesome with my sister, they never let my glass sit empty and always get me a menu when I want one. They are the reason why I think bartenders are Gods.
I met my sister for drinks and dinner at the new Big Papi’s Grille in Framingham. It used to be the Metro 9 Steakhouse, but the Red Sox’s David Ortiz lent his name to the restaurant, and it’s now the prime example of “build it, and he will come.” Two months ago, this place was empty. Now, it’s packed. Good for them. I wish I could say that the influx of business explains the bad bar service, but it was bad when the bar was empty, let alone full.
We were there a couple of months ago, had the bar practically to ourselves, and my sister ordered a dirty martini. Instead, she got dirty water. There’s no confusing the flavor of vodka for water, so that’s some pretty bad bartending. Anyway, I digress…
(I do feel the need to say that I did have an event at Metro 9, and I could not have asked for a better experience. Everything was perfect – absolutely FLAWLESS.)
We got there at 5:30 on Saturday evening, hoping it wouldn’t be so busy so we could get some attention from the bartenders. No luck – the bar was full, but we were able to get a seat after about 15 minutes. We each ordered a beer, and our glasses were pretty much empty for 15 minutes before we could get one of the three bartenders to give us the time of day. Now, when I say it was full, I mean the seats were all full – by no means was the bar mobbed. There was no excuse for empty glasses.
The gentleman sitting next to me ordered a Sam Adam’s Summer Ale. The bartender poured him an Octoberfest and put it in front of him without saying a word. At the very least, I would have expected her to say that they were all out of Summer Ale, and were now carrying Octoberfest as their seasonal beer. But no, the non-ordered beer was put in front of him without explanation. He took it in stride, but personally I have a problem drinking Octoberfest in August. But that’s just me.
At close to 7:30, after being there for two hours, we decided to leave to get a bite to eat. Yes, we could have eaten there, but the bartenders never once asked us if we were joining them for dinner, nor could we get their attention long enough to signal one of them for a menu. So we paid our tab and left.
On to bad bar experience number two.
We went from Big Papi’s to a small, family owned Italian restaurant in another part of town. There was a 40 minute wait for a table, so we decided to eat at the bar. Mistake.
There were three bartenders working there too, but we got stuck with the greasy sleaze-ball named Charlie. He started out fine by asking us where we got our fake ID’s (we’re both in our thirties). It wasn’t charming at all, but it was clear that he thought it was. We let it go – no big deal, just a bad joke. Then he started making jokes about having a threesome with us. From there, he started asking questions about whether our daddy spanked us hard enough (in that particular way that only a dirty old man can do). I kid you not. This is a man who works for tips. And needless to say, he didn’t get much of one…
I’m usually pretty good at letting these types of things go. Well, maybe not so much letting it go as not making a scene but talking about it for the rest of my life. I’m used to dirty old men. I’m a dirty old man magnet, for some reason. But this guy just got under my skin. He’s a bartender, in a family restaurant nonetheless. Now, granted, the families aren’t sitting at the bar, but the people at the bar tend to be indicative of a family-friendly clientele. Charlie was just so inappropriate. Never in my life have I even considered saying something to a restaurant manager, and I was pretty close to doing it that night. Bad jokes are one thing, being sexually harassed while trying to eat dinner is something entirely different.
Maybe I’ve been spoiled by my bartenders in the past. Or maybe I should just stick to my old stand-bys… not only would Patrick, Adam and Matt never ask me if I want to join them for a threesome with my sister, they never let my glass sit empty and always get me a menu when I want one. They are the reason why I think bartenders are Gods.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
The Sincerest Form of Flattery
Imitation, that is. I was in New York for work recently, and had dinner at an Italian restaurant near Lincoln Center. Two of the women in my party ordered an open-faced lasagna. Lasagna always sounds good, and open-faced added a new level of interest.When it arrived, I think we were all a little taken aback by what it actually looked like – a giant sheet of pasta, with sauce and cheese, topped with a few small meatballs. Basically, it looked like the pizza version of lasagna. I said to myself, “I can do this better.” So tonight I set out to do so.
I started with Barilla no boil lasagna noodles. I took out four, and soaked them in boiling water to re-hydrate them and make them pliable. I made the ricotta mixture per my standard lasagna recipe directions, and added a little spinach for flavor and color. I confess, I used jar sauce (also Barilla). It was in the fridge, I’m going on vacation later this week, and I prefer not to let food go to waste. It needed to be done.
Instead of making one giant lasagna pizza, I opted to make a single serve casserole using my Pfaltzgraff medium-sized au gratin dish. I put a teeny bit of sauce on the bottom, and then layered in two of the lasagna noodles (turns out I only needed two, the spare ones were for insurance… you never know). I added the cheese mixture, sauce, and then the meat. Instead of meatballs, I used some Italian chicken sausage – I de-cased it and cooked it like ground meat and put it right on top of the sauce. Then the mozzarella was layered on, followed by the parmesan cheese. I covered the dish tightly with foil, placed it on a rimmed baking sheet (in case of overflow), and baked at 350 for 45 minutes. When the buzzer went off, I removed the foil and cooked it for another 15 to melt the cheese and get it all bubbly and brown. Just when I thought it was finally ready to eat, I remembered to let it rest for another 15 minutes to set up. (Flashbacks to the Christmas Eve lasagna soup incident of ’99 was all the reminder I needed.)
Finally, it was ready to eat. I took a bite, it was still plenty hot, and it was pretty good. Since I didn’t actually taste the restaurant version, I really can’t compare. But mine was much more manageable in size – it was a generous single serving. The restaurant version was way too big – Margarita, who proclaimed to be so hungry she didn’t need to consider sharing with Catalina, could barely eat 1/8th of the dish. (I appreciate large portions in a restaurant, but there is such a thing as too big and this lasagna was definitely too big.)
I will say, as tasty as my open-faced lasagna was, it was not as good as the standard fare. There is a lot to be said for the role of the noodles in a plate of lasagna. Two on the bottom, serving as a crust, is just not enough noodle for me.
But you know what? It was a lot of fun trying to recreate this dish… and even though it was not quite as good as the real thing, it still made for a pretty good dinner.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Top Chef Las Vegas - Week 2
I was traveling for work this week, and of course, the hotel didn’t carry Bravo, so I had to wait until tonight to watch Wednesday’s episode of Top Chef.
Minor crisis, but it was averted. The TV in my bedroom is currently not working (it likes to take a vacation every six months or so… don’t worry, it’ll be back), and I didn’t set my TiVo in the living room to record the show. Fortunately, my bedroom TiVo recorded it despite the vacationing television, and thanks to the wonders of modern technology, I was able to transfer the recording from the bedroom TiVo to the living room TiVo. Phew…
And, we won’t get into the discussion about how many TiVos I have. It’s a food blog, not a TV blog. I owe you no explanation.
Now, back to the show…
I curl up on the couch and hit play. The first thing I notice, which I must have totally missed last week, is that the stakes have been raised considerably for the winner. They still get the Food and Wine Magazine feature, and the showcase at the Food and Wine Expo in Aspen (which, by the way, I’m dying to go to). But they also get $100,000 worth of merchandise from Macy’s, and $125,000 to help make their culinary dreams a reality furnished by the makers of the Glad family of products. If I remember correctly, they used to get a suite of kitchen appliances (of the stove and fridge variety, not the toaster oven and blender types), but I can’t imagine that the most expensive GE or Kenmore appliances cost $100k. The biggest shocker of all – they increased the grand prize to $125,000. I had no idea! A 25% increase in this economy? That’s unheard of.
Okay, enough about the prizes. Back to the show…
The cheftestants arrive at the Top Chef kitchen, and Padma is there with a craps table and the guest judge for this week, Todd English. Has he ever been a guest judge before? I remember him appearing in one or two of the finales as a sous chef, but I can’t recall a guest judge appearance. I obviously don’t know Todd personally, but he has always struck me as unbelievably arrogant. Also unbelievably sexy, but I digress.
It’s another high stakes quick fire. The winner of the challenge gets immunity as well as a $15,000 chip from the M Resort. The chefs will roll a pair of dice on the craps table, and they have to prepare a dish that uses the number of ingredients that they roll – no more, no less. Salt, pepper and oil are free ingredients.
The smallest number rolled is a 3, and it goes to Laurine. The highest number rolled is 10 – both Kevin (last week’s winner) and Brother Bryan get the ten.
There are still too many contenders to describe what everyone did, but I will tell you that Ashley served practically raw lamb, Brother Mike made a funky gazpacho (a new twist on an old classic, per Todd), and Jesse tried to seer scallops in a non-stick pan. Come on, even I know that you need to use a stainless steel pan to get a good seer. Todd describes her scallops as “blonde.” I guess they were kind of dumb as well as not very good. They certainly didn’t look appetizing.
Todd declares Brother Mike the winner, while putting Brother Bryan on the bottom with his sous vide black cod that was “pretty rare.” The sibling rivalry is off to a great start. Younger brother Mike wins the challenge and $15,000, and Bryan has to stew (no pun intended). Mike has to talk about how great it feels to beat his brother, because Bryan has already achieved his chef dreams by opening up his own restaurant and Mike is still working for the man. This will get old pretty fast. If I want to watch families fight, I’ll go visit my own.
With the quick fire out of the way, it’s time for the elimination challenge. They divide the chefs up into teams, and it’s a battle of the sexes – men vs. women. They are catering a joint bachelor/bachelorette party. The women will cook for the men, and vice versa. The challenge is to prepare dishes that fit the tastes and preferences of the couple, while at the same time pairing with one of three shots.
The shots are tequila, a Moscow mule (described as “gingery, vodka, grape-fruity”), and a golden delicious (described as “sweet, gooey and disgusting”). The bride is a pescatarian, which is a vegetarian who eats fish. The groom sounds like he’ll eat pretty much anything.
The teams plan their menus, do their shopping and it’s back to the kitchen. Because she feels like there is enough time and money, Ashley makes the almost always bad decision of making two dishes. Ashley also makes it abundantly clear that she is more than offended by the challenge. She’s gay, and she is very upset to be participating in a wedding challenge when gay people are not allowed to get married (in most parts of the country). It’s totally okay for Ashley to feel the way she does, but I have to say that it’s a cooking competition taking place in Vegas. She had to be prepared for the potential of something like this. Vegas is kind of famous for its weddings. Preeti, who is also gay, didn’t have the same reaction as Ashley, and I was actually surprised at how laid back she was when she said “this is the world we live in today.”
The party is poolside at the M. Jen calls it the most gorgeous pool she’s ever seen. It was very nice, but not sure I’d go that far. I don’t understand what the point is of having joint bachelor/bachelorette parties. Unless the point is to have Top Chef pay for them.
Our judges this evening are Tom, Padma, Gail and Todd English. No Toby yet. These guys are at their best when they are brutally honest. In summary, they hated Eve’s ceviche, Ashley’s panna cotta (the second dish, naturally), Jesse’s Thai chicken lettuce cups, non-brother Mike’s arctic char, and Ron’s lobster cocktail. They loved Brother Mike’s apple sorbet and goat cheese cookie, Brother Bryan’s sweet and sour macaroon, and Hector’s tofu ceviche.
Somewhere between the party and the judge’s table, a few of the men decided they were going to jump in the pool. The judges must have left by then. It struck me as awfully unprofessional. If I ever threw a party, and the caterers decided to jump in my pool before the party was over, I’d be a little upset.
Now, it’s time for judge’s table. Padma enters the stew room, and requests to see Brothers Bryan and Mike, Hector and Eli. So, the men win and these are the favorites. The women were pretty confident, and look upset.
The judges deliver high praise for Eli’s tuna tartare, with the ginger matching very well to the ginger in the shot. They thought brother Mike’s sorbet and cookie was great from concept to execution, and said brother Bryan’s dish was a really fun play on chips and guacamole with margaritas. (Apparently, there was guacamole inside that macaroon.) And Hector’s dish will change people’s minds about tofu.
At the end of the day, Todd English said it came down to the two brothers, and Bryan wins! Mike looks a little disappointed that he didn’t beat his big brother, but for crying out loud he won $15,000. Let. It. Go. Plus, Bryan is my favorite of the two brothers… a little older, a little wiser, a little more mature, and yeah, a little hotter.
But now it’s time for the bad news. Eve, Jesse, Preeti and Ashley are in front of the firing squad. Eve and Jesse are two for two on the bottom – not good. They are the two remaining of my top three to be eliminated first. I think I hate looking at the lip ring more than I hate hearing the squeaky voice, so I’m hoping Jesse gets sent home.
They tell Jesse her dish was really watery, and she starts crying. Apparently, she didn’t use ginger in her dish, but used some of the ginger beer from the cocktail so that the dish would go with the drink. I guess that decision backfired.
Eve’s shrimp were described as flavorless, and she made some lame excuse for why that was so. Tom is biting his tongue to keep from really letting her have it, but Todd doesn’t hold back. He says that a chef should know when something is not right, and know enough to do something about it. Preeti is surprised she’s there. She thought her dish was a crowd pleaser. Tom tells her the tuna wasn’t so much as marinated as it was cured.
And of course, Ashley’s two dish decision is haunting her. They loved the watermelon carpaccio, but hated the panna cotta. Ashley isn’t surprised – she identified the many flaws of her second dish. Todd tells Ashley that her watermelon carpaccio was one of his favorite dishes. I’m guessing this ultimately saves her ass.
So, I’m hoping it is Jesse who is told to pack her knives and go. I can always mute the TV when Eve speaks, but I can’t stop watching when they show Jesse. TV isn’t very good without the visual.
But, I have to live with Jesse for at least another week, because it’s Eve who is told to pack her knives and go. Another week down, another chef sent home. TiVo stopped recording before I could see what’s in store for us next week, so I’ll have to wait (or read TV Guide) to “watch what’s happening” on Bravo next Wednesday.
Until then… it’s time for me to pack my own knives and go… to bed. (And I’m putting my stake in the ground for Jen and Brother Bryan as my early favorites.)
Minor crisis, but it was averted. The TV in my bedroom is currently not working (it likes to take a vacation every six months or so… don’t worry, it’ll be back), and I didn’t set my TiVo in the living room to record the show. Fortunately, my bedroom TiVo recorded it despite the vacationing television, and thanks to the wonders of modern technology, I was able to transfer the recording from the bedroom TiVo to the living room TiVo. Phew…
And, we won’t get into the discussion about how many TiVos I have. It’s a food blog, not a TV blog. I owe you no explanation.
Now, back to the show…
I curl up on the couch and hit play. The first thing I notice, which I must have totally missed last week, is that the stakes have been raised considerably for the winner. They still get the Food and Wine Magazine feature, and the showcase at the Food and Wine Expo in Aspen (which, by the way, I’m dying to go to). But they also get $100,000 worth of merchandise from Macy’s, and $125,000 to help make their culinary dreams a reality furnished by the makers of the Glad family of products. If I remember correctly, they used to get a suite of kitchen appliances (of the stove and fridge variety, not the toaster oven and blender types), but I can’t imagine that the most expensive GE or Kenmore appliances cost $100k. The biggest shocker of all – they increased the grand prize to $125,000. I had no idea! A 25% increase in this economy? That’s unheard of.
Okay, enough about the prizes. Back to the show…
The cheftestants arrive at the Top Chef kitchen, and Padma is there with a craps table and the guest judge for this week, Todd English. Has he ever been a guest judge before? I remember him appearing in one or two of the finales as a sous chef, but I can’t recall a guest judge appearance. I obviously don’t know Todd personally, but he has always struck me as unbelievably arrogant. Also unbelievably sexy, but I digress.
It’s another high stakes quick fire. The winner of the challenge gets immunity as well as a $15,000 chip from the M Resort. The chefs will roll a pair of dice on the craps table, and they have to prepare a dish that uses the number of ingredients that they roll – no more, no less. Salt, pepper and oil are free ingredients.
The smallest number rolled is a 3, and it goes to Laurine. The highest number rolled is 10 – both Kevin (last week’s winner) and Brother Bryan get the ten.
There are still too many contenders to describe what everyone did, but I will tell you that Ashley served practically raw lamb, Brother Mike made a funky gazpacho (a new twist on an old classic, per Todd), and Jesse tried to seer scallops in a non-stick pan. Come on, even I know that you need to use a stainless steel pan to get a good seer. Todd describes her scallops as “blonde.” I guess they were kind of dumb as well as not very good. They certainly didn’t look appetizing.
Todd declares Brother Mike the winner, while putting Brother Bryan on the bottom with his sous vide black cod that was “pretty rare.” The sibling rivalry is off to a great start. Younger brother Mike wins the challenge and $15,000, and Bryan has to stew (no pun intended). Mike has to talk about how great it feels to beat his brother, because Bryan has already achieved his chef dreams by opening up his own restaurant and Mike is still working for the man. This will get old pretty fast. If I want to watch families fight, I’ll go visit my own.
With the quick fire out of the way, it’s time for the elimination challenge. They divide the chefs up into teams, and it’s a battle of the sexes – men vs. women. They are catering a joint bachelor/bachelorette party. The women will cook for the men, and vice versa. The challenge is to prepare dishes that fit the tastes and preferences of the couple, while at the same time pairing with one of three shots.
The shots are tequila, a Moscow mule (described as “gingery, vodka, grape-fruity”), and a golden delicious (described as “sweet, gooey and disgusting”). The bride is a pescatarian, which is a vegetarian who eats fish. The groom sounds like he’ll eat pretty much anything.
The teams plan their menus, do their shopping and it’s back to the kitchen. Because she feels like there is enough time and money, Ashley makes the almost always bad decision of making two dishes. Ashley also makes it abundantly clear that she is more than offended by the challenge. She’s gay, and she is very upset to be participating in a wedding challenge when gay people are not allowed to get married (in most parts of the country). It’s totally okay for Ashley to feel the way she does, but I have to say that it’s a cooking competition taking place in Vegas. She had to be prepared for the potential of something like this. Vegas is kind of famous for its weddings. Preeti, who is also gay, didn’t have the same reaction as Ashley, and I was actually surprised at how laid back she was when she said “this is the world we live in today.”
The party is poolside at the M. Jen calls it the most gorgeous pool she’s ever seen. It was very nice, but not sure I’d go that far. I don’t understand what the point is of having joint bachelor/bachelorette parties. Unless the point is to have Top Chef pay for them.
Our judges this evening are Tom, Padma, Gail and Todd English. No Toby yet. These guys are at their best when they are brutally honest. In summary, they hated Eve’s ceviche, Ashley’s panna cotta (the second dish, naturally), Jesse’s Thai chicken lettuce cups, non-brother Mike’s arctic char, and Ron’s lobster cocktail. They loved Brother Mike’s apple sorbet and goat cheese cookie, Brother Bryan’s sweet and sour macaroon, and Hector’s tofu ceviche.
Somewhere between the party and the judge’s table, a few of the men decided they were going to jump in the pool. The judges must have left by then. It struck me as awfully unprofessional. If I ever threw a party, and the caterers decided to jump in my pool before the party was over, I’d be a little upset.
Now, it’s time for judge’s table. Padma enters the stew room, and requests to see Brothers Bryan and Mike, Hector and Eli. So, the men win and these are the favorites. The women were pretty confident, and look upset.
The judges deliver high praise for Eli’s tuna tartare, with the ginger matching very well to the ginger in the shot. They thought brother Mike’s sorbet and cookie was great from concept to execution, and said brother Bryan’s dish was a really fun play on chips and guacamole with margaritas. (Apparently, there was guacamole inside that macaroon.) And Hector’s dish will change people’s minds about tofu.
At the end of the day, Todd English said it came down to the two brothers, and Bryan wins! Mike looks a little disappointed that he didn’t beat his big brother, but for crying out loud he won $15,000. Let. It. Go. Plus, Bryan is my favorite of the two brothers… a little older, a little wiser, a little more mature, and yeah, a little hotter.
But now it’s time for the bad news. Eve, Jesse, Preeti and Ashley are in front of the firing squad. Eve and Jesse are two for two on the bottom – not good. They are the two remaining of my top three to be eliminated first. I think I hate looking at the lip ring more than I hate hearing the squeaky voice, so I’m hoping Jesse gets sent home.
They tell Jesse her dish was really watery, and she starts crying. Apparently, she didn’t use ginger in her dish, but used some of the ginger beer from the cocktail so that the dish would go with the drink. I guess that decision backfired.
Eve’s shrimp were described as flavorless, and she made some lame excuse for why that was so. Tom is biting his tongue to keep from really letting her have it, but Todd doesn’t hold back. He says that a chef should know when something is not right, and know enough to do something about it. Preeti is surprised she’s there. She thought her dish was a crowd pleaser. Tom tells her the tuna wasn’t so much as marinated as it was cured.
And of course, Ashley’s two dish decision is haunting her. They loved the watermelon carpaccio, but hated the panna cotta. Ashley isn’t surprised – she identified the many flaws of her second dish. Todd tells Ashley that her watermelon carpaccio was one of his favorite dishes. I’m guessing this ultimately saves her ass.
So, I’m hoping it is Jesse who is told to pack her knives and go. I can always mute the TV when Eve speaks, but I can’t stop watching when they show Jesse. TV isn’t very good without the visual.
But, I have to live with Jesse for at least another week, because it’s Eve who is told to pack her knives and go. Another week down, another chef sent home. TiVo stopped recording before I could see what’s in store for us next week, so I’ll have to wait (or read TV Guide) to “watch what’s happening” on Bravo next Wednesday.
Until then… it’s time for me to pack my own knives and go… to bed. (And I’m putting my stake in the ground for Jen and Brother Bryan as my early favorites.)
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