Despite the fact that I’m way too many years beyond the appropriate spring break age, I leave for Cancun in less than two weeks. I was hoping to lose a few pounds before I leave – nothing major, just some insurance weight so I can eat and drink whatever I want while I spend my vacation at a 5-star luxury all inclusive resort (hopefully, one that is out of reach for the college kids who will likely be swarming Cancun the same week). I was all set to cut back on alcohol, and take advantage of the lengthy list of things I gave up for Lent (fried food, chocolate, candy and ice cream).
And then something happened – namely, a massive toothache. I didn’t think much of it at first. Mostly because at first the pain wasn’t massive. It started as discomfort associated with a particular tooth that I’ve had a lot of problems with over the years. I tried my standard tricks – Sensodyne toothpaste, fluoride rinse etc. But the discomfort turned to pain, and by Monday morning I was in hell. Despite my best intentions, I couldn’t even consider going to work. (Seriously, I got up, showered, got dressed – I really intended to go to the office.) I called in sick, with the hope that my dentist would see me that day.
Fortunately, my dentist was able to fit me in. A few x-rays later, I learned that root canal I had 12 years ago was a complete waste of time and money because the bastard endodontist who did it didn’t completely fill in the root (not really sure what that means, but I saw the films, it makes sense), and the tooth was infected. I was in extreme pain – I couldn’t close my mouth and if anything even came close to my tooth I experienced searing pain.
My dentist assured me that I could wait to deal with this when I get back from Cancun, and sent me on my way with a prescription for antibiotics and assurance that I should start feeling some relief by nighttime. After getting the prescription filled, and stocking up on some fresh Advil (since the ibuprofen I had on hand expired 8 months ago), I went home and climbed into bed. I couldn’t even attempt to work from home. It was awful.
B showed up that night with a grocery bag full of soft foods – soups, oatmeal, bananas, and sorbet (which legally, is not considered ice cream). This was to be my diet until the pain goes away. Well, it doesn’t leave much room for variety, but it should certainly help me get ready for Mexico.
I didn’t feel at all better that night, and in fact, the pain was even worse the next morning. So, I called the endodontist I was referred to (not the hack who robbed me 12 years ago, but a new endodontist). Thank God – I was told to come in right away.
One emergency root canal later, I had a new prescription for a stronger antibiotic, and another one for vicodin. Yeah, baby.
I felt fantastic when I left the endodontist, so much so that I didn’t think I even needed the vicodin. Fifteen minutes later the Novocain wore off and I was in as much pain as I was before. Ouch. Thankfully I had the vicodin.
The soft food diet lasted for the rest of the week, accompanied by the bonus that the antibiotic made me feel so nauseous that I couldn’t eat much for the first couple of days other than yogurt. I consoled myself with the prospect that while this situation may not be good for the wannabe foodie in me, it was definitely good for my pre-Cancun preparations.
Yet, somehow I managed to gain 5 pounds. The one silver lining of extreme tooth pain, and it somehow managed to have the opposite effect. Totally unfair. At least I have vicodin.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Sunday, February 21, 2010
This One's For You, Auntie Pattie!
When I asked my readers for suggestions on what to cook next, I was not inundated with ideas that would keep me busy for weeks to come (hint, hint). But I did get one. My Aunt Pattie, my favorite vegetarian, requested that I try to find a recipe for eggplant parmesan where the eggplant stays crispy. I think I may have succeeded.
I started with my trusty America’s Test Kitchen Family Cookbook. Yes, I know this book has failed me in the past. But more often than note, it's a great place to start. So there I started. Here’s the recipe they suggested:
Eggplant Parmesan
Serves 6 to 8; 10 minutes prep time; 2 hours 30 minutes total time (includes 40 minutes salting and 45 minutes baking, so don’t panic)
I started with my trusty America’s Test Kitchen Family Cookbook. Yes, I know this book has failed me in the past. But more often than note, it's a great place to start. So there I started. Here’s the recipe they suggested:
Eggplant Parmesan
Serves 6 to 8; 10 minutes prep time; 2 hours 30 minutes total time (includes 40 minutes salting and 45 minutes baking, so don’t panic)
- 2 globe eggplants (approx. 2 lbs), sliced into 1/4” thick rounds
- Salt
- 1 cup all purpose flower
- Pepper
- 4 large eggs
- 4 cups plain dried breadcrumbs
- 3 ounces Parmesan cheese, grated (1 1/2 cups)
- 6 tablespoons vegetable oil
- 4 cups tomato sauce, pureed smooth
- 8 ounces mozzarella, shredded (2 cups)
- 10 fresh basil leads, torn (optional)
- Toss the eggplant with 1 teaspoon salt (easiest if done in two batches) and let drain in a colander for about 40 minutes
- Meanwhile, adjust two oven racks to the upper and lower middle positions, place a rimmed baking sheet on each rack, and heat the oven to 425 derees. Combine the flour and 1 teaspoon pepper in a large zipper lock bag and shake to combine. Beat the eggs into a shallow dish. Combine the breadcrumbs, 1 cup of the Parmesan, 1/4 teaspoon salt, and 1/2 teaspoon pepper in a second shallow dish.
- Spread the drained eggplant over paper towels. Wipe away as much salt as possible and press firmly on each slice to remove as much liquid as possible. Working with about 8 eggplant slices at a time, place them in the bag with the flour, seal and shake until thoroughly coated. Remove the eggplant, shaking off any excess flour and dip into the eggs. Remove the eggplant from the eggs, allowing any excess to drip off, and coat evenly with the breadcrumbs, pressing them to adhere. Lay the breaded eggplant on a wire rack. Do this with all remaining eggplant slices.
- Remove the preheated baking sheets from the oven. Pour 3 tablespoons oil onto each sheet, tilting to coat the sheets evenly. Spread the breaded eggplant in a single layer over the hot sheets. Bake until the eggplant is well browned and crisp on the first side, about 20 minutes. Flip the eggplant slices over. Switch and rotate the baking sheets, and continue to bake until the second side is browned, about 10 minutes longer. Do not turn off the oven.
- Spread 1 cup of the tomato sauce over the bottom of a 9x13” baking dish. Shingle half of the eggplant slices over the tomato sauce. Distribute 1 more cup of the sauce over the eggplant and sprinkle with half of the mozzarella. Shingle the remaining eggplant in the dish, and dot with another cup of sauce, leaving the majority of the eggplant exposed so that it will remain crisp. Sprinkle with 1/4 cup of the Parmesan cheese and the remaining 1 cup mozzarella.
- Place the dish on the lower-middle rack of the oven. Bake until the cheese is bubbling and well browned, about 15 minutes. Sprinkle the basil (if using) over the top and cool for 10 minutes before serving. Pass the remaining 1 cup tomato sauce and 1/4 cup Parmesan separately.
But of course, I couldn’t follow the recipe exactly. I had to make it my own. (Like this was a challenge on Top Chef. Like I’d ever be able to compete on Top Chef.) My big change was to substitute the plain breadcrumbs for Italian style panko bread crumbs. (Yes, an Italian version of a Japanese breadcrumb.) My aunt specifically requested “crispy” and panko breadcrumbs are known to make things much crispier than regular. I followed the rest of the recipe to the letter.
The verdict? The top layer of eggplant was pretty crispy – definitely not soggy. The bottom was good too. I wouldn’t say the bottom layer was soggy – definitely not – but it wasn’t as crispy as the top, but that’s to be expected since it was adorned with sauce on both sides and topped with another layer of eggplant.
The real truth? I thought the eggplant was a little too salty. Okay, very salty. B’s conclusion was that the eggplant was on the high end of the acceptable salt spectrum. (I swear on my life those were his exact words.) My recommendation would be to stick with the Italian style panko breadcrumbs, but omit the salt and pepper when preparing the breadcrumbs for this dish. And make sure you do a really good job wiping the salt off the eggplant after it’s has drained. Also, consider using a low salt tomato sauce – I used my homemade sauce which has the tendency to be a touch on the salty side. (And that's how I like it, so I won’t apologize. Except to my dad, who needs to watch his sodium.) Whatever you do, do not skip the step of salting and draining the eggplant. This is critical for releasing much of the water content which allows it to crisp up really nice in the oven. And don’t get any fancy ideas about deep frying the eggplant. While deep frying makes things like French fries and chicken nice and crispy, it won’t work as well on the eggplant (the breading will be good, but the vegetable itself will be one giant soggy disaster).
So, Auntie Pattie, I think it’s worth a try. Let me know how it turns out!!
Monday, February 15, 2010
Valentine's Day
I did no cooking this past weekend. None. And it felt great! Instead, B spoiled me rotten all weekend long.
He cooked me dinner on Friday night – baked salmon with mustard sauce, orzo and salad. I made the salad, which doesn’t count as cooking, and I was responsible for the orzo. But you can’t really count boiling small pasta in chicken broth as cooking. Can you?
On Saturday we went to a party for a friend of my family’s, and the only thing consumed there was too much wine. At least for me – B was fine.
But the big day was Sunday. Our first Valentine’s Day together – hopefully, the first of many. I didn’t do any of the planning for Valentine’s Day. B did it all. It started with brunch at Acquitaine on Tremont Street in the South End of Boston. (Actually, it started with the bottle of ginger ale he bought me at 7-Eleven on the way into town.) We each got a Bloody Mary (little hair of the dog, if you know what I mean – too much wine for sure) and started with a bowl of fresh fruit and an order of pommes frites. If the Bloody Mary didn’t help me turn the corner, B was thinking the French fries might do the trick. Truthfully, the drink and the fries got me half way there. For our meals, I got the Eggs Benedict (which came with brunch potatoes, which were not mentioned on the menu – otherwise, I wouldn’t have let B order the pommes frites). B got a spinach and feta omelet, which was accompanied by a cinnamon bun. We shared a side of applewood smoked bacon. (I ordered it, thinking greasy bacon would definitely do the trick. It didn’t – B ate most of it.) B cleaned his plate, and I ate about 1/2 of one of the Eggs Benedict. I was a little put off by the texture of the poached egg (it looked frothy) and I have determined that I don’t like Hollandaise sauce. I just asked B what he thought of the cinnamon bun and his response was “it’s a cinnamon bun, it did the job.” Okay then.
I’ve been to Acquitaine before. It’s a good restaurant. Hangover aside, it was not the best brunch I’ve ever had but I think they were struggling with the Valentine’s Day crowd. The place was absolutely mobbed – the hostess was literally turning people away if they didn’t have a reservation.
After brunch we headed over to the Institute of Contemporary Art. Unbeknownst to us, only one of the galleries was open because the other one was getting set up for a new installation. So that took us about a half hour (when we had three hours to kill before the curtain was due to rise on the play we were going to see). So we grabbed coffee for him and tea for me at the Water Café, a Wolfgang Puck cafeteria. Yes, further evidence that Wolfgang Puck is perhaps the biggest celebrity chef sell out of all time. Don’t even debate it with me.
We took our drinks outside and walked around the harbor. No food stories to tell here, but the sea air completed the job that the Bloody Mary and pommes frites could not. I had officially turned a corner!
Back to the car we go, and off to the Back Bay where we were due to see Legacy of Light at the Lyric Stage Theatre at 3:00 p.m. Of course, we got there a little before 2:00. So, we decided to go to Post 390 for a drink before the show. Post 390 is a new restaurant owned by the same people who own Grill 23 (one of my favorite places). I have had drinks and appetizers at Post 390, but I’ve yet to eat there. Its concept is upscale American comfort food. We grabbed a seat at the bar – very cozy place, beautifully decorated with an awesome gas fire place that I wish we were sitting closer to as I wore a sleeveless dress in February – and ordered some cocktails. I decided to play it safe with another Bloody Mary, and B opted for a gin and tonic. I needed a little more hydration than vodka alone was going to give me, so mix it with tomato juice and horseradish I did.
We only had time for one drink before the play. The play, Legacy of Light, is hard to describe in a sentence or two, but I will tell you it was funny, interesting and recommended. Check it out.
After the play, we had to head over to Harvard Square for dinner. We had 6:00 reservations at Upstairs on the Square. By this point, I’m starving. Corner turned, and appetite raging. We had about 45 minutes to get to Harvard Square after the play. We get back to B’s car to find a parking ticket on it. Apparently, that amazing on-street parking we scored was in a handicapped zone. Oops. As if the day wasn’t expensive enough!
Naturally, at this point, I’m convinced we won’t get to Cambridge in time and I’m panicking that they are going to cancel our reservation. B is completely relaxed and thinking I’m crazy. You see, I think everything is going to take twice as much time as it will and B thinks it will take half the time. This results in me always being early and B always being late. Hopefully we will eventually balance each other out.
On our way to Harvard Square, we make a pit stop. B had ordered me a dozen long stem roses from Winston Flowers, and he needed to pick them up. They are absolutely the most amazingly beautiful roses I’ve ever seen… Check them out!
Okay, the roses have nothing to do with food, but I had to digress for a moment.
It is my experience that restaurants consistently fall down on the busiest days, particularly New Years Eve and Valentine’s Day. I thought Upstairs on the Square had the right idea with their prix fixe menu – limited number of dishes available will allow for faster table turnover, and fewer kitchen screw ups.
Not so much.
The food was good, don’t get me wrong. But it was a two hour meal – and it was only four courses! We opted for the wine pairings menu – three of the courses would be accompanied by a glass of wine for an extra $50 per person. Had I not been starving to death, I probably would have thought “three drinks for $50 is ridiculously unreasonable.” Naturally, that occurred to me during the third course and the second glass of wine. Another thing that was weird… they had available one glass of red, one glass of white, and a champagne for each of the courses. When you made your selection for each choice, they didn’t automatically pick the most appropriate glass of wine – they asked you what you wanted. Huh.
Fortunately, our waiter was really good and he did make recommendations, but it didn’t appear that it was set up that way. They also had the tendency to bring out the wine well before the food came out, which kind of defeated the purpose of the pairings menu.
Now on to the food…
For my first course I got the oysters and ahi tuna, accompanied by a wine that was described as “chardonnay like.” I was a little turned off by the menu’s description of the oysters as “porn star oysters” but I was even more turned off by the description of the wine. It was so crazy sweet – much more like a dessert wine than a chardonnay. B got the beet risotto with beef Carpaccio. Both dishes were good, but the wines did not work with them. (B decided to go for the “chardonnay like” white instead of the pinot noir that was offered. He regretted it.)
There was one salad available for the second course – basically an endive salad with horseradish. And lots of horseradish. More horseradish than endive. There was no wine to accompany this course. And for $50, I think they could have sprung for a glass. But maybe they figured with all that horseradish we would only need water.
For the third course, I got lobster that was served with butternut squash puree, and B got the sirloin steak with pureed potato and spinach. I had champagne and B opted for a pinot noir. (As I write this, I realize it’s crap that they offered two pinot noirs out of three red options. Not okay.) I thought the lobster was good, and generally I like butternut squash (don’t tell my mom), but there was something very odd about a summer fish being served on top of a winter vegetable. B thought his food was reasonable. Not a glowing review, but passable. He originally wanted the duck, but it was prepared with chocolate and that just sounded a little too weird to take a chance on.
For dessert we shared the red velvet cake for two. By then, we were not really hungry. Not because there was too much food, but because it took them an hour and a half to get to the dessert.
I would definitely go back to that restaurant, but not on a special occasion. They just couldn’t handle the crowd. We were seated right outside of the kitchen door, and every single server in the place walked by our table at least a hundred times. And the space between tables was not big enough to make that anything but a major distraction. Our poor waiter had four tables in a row, and it felt like he was apologizing for the delays more than he was doing anything else.
But really, I’m not complaining. It was an amazing day, with a great guy. I would have been happy eating brunch at Dunkin’ Donuts and dinner at McDonald’s as long as I got to spend the day with B. I’m not trading in those roses for dandelions though. Not a chance!
He cooked me dinner on Friday night – baked salmon with mustard sauce, orzo and salad. I made the salad, which doesn’t count as cooking, and I was responsible for the orzo. But you can’t really count boiling small pasta in chicken broth as cooking. Can you?
On Saturday we went to a party for a friend of my family’s, and the only thing consumed there was too much wine. At least for me – B was fine.
But the big day was Sunday. Our first Valentine’s Day together – hopefully, the first of many. I didn’t do any of the planning for Valentine’s Day. B did it all. It started with brunch at Acquitaine on Tremont Street in the South End of Boston. (Actually, it started with the bottle of ginger ale he bought me at 7-Eleven on the way into town.) We each got a Bloody Mary (little hair of the dog, if you know what I mean – too much wine for sure) and started with a bowl of fresh fruit and an order of pommes frites. If the Bloody Mary didn’t help me turn the corner, B was thinking the French fries might do the trick. Truthfully, the drink and the fries got me half way there. For our meals, I got the Eggs Benedict (which came with brunch potatoes, which were not mentioned on the menu – otherwise, I wouldn’t have let B order the pommes frites). B got a spinach and feta omelet, which was accompanied by a cinnamon bun. We shared a side of applewood smoked bacon. (I ordered it, thinking greasy bacon would definitely do the trick. It didn’t – B ate most of it.) B cleaned his plate, and I ate about 1/2 of one of the Eggs Benedict. I was a little put off by the texture of the poached egg (it looked frothy) and I have determined that I don’t like Hollandaise sauce. I just asked B what he thought of the cinnamon bun and his response was “it’s a cinnamon bun, it did the job.” Okay then.
I’ve been to Acquitaine before. It’s a good restaurant. Hangover aside, it was not the best brunch I’ve ever had but I think they were struggling with the Valentine’s Day crowd. The place was absolutely mobbed – the hostess was literally turning people away if they didn’t have a reservation.
After brunch we headed over to the Institute of Contemporary Art. Unbeknownst to us, only one of the galleries was open because the other one was getting set up for a new installation. So that took us about a half hour (when we had three hours to kill before the curtain was due to rise on the play we were going to see). So we grabbed coffee for him and tea for me at the Water Café, a Wolfgang Puck cafeteria. Yes, further evidence that Wolfgang Puck is perhaps the biggest celebrity chef sell out of all time. Don’t even debate it with me.
We took our drinks outside and walked around the harbor. No food stories to tell here, but the sea air completed the job that the Bloody Mary and pommes frites could not. I had officially turned a corner!
Back to the car we go, and off to the Back Bay where we were due to see Legacy of Light at the Lyric Stage Theatre at 3:00 p.m. Of course, we got there a little before 2:00. So, we decided to go to Post 390 for a drink before the show. Post 390 is a new restaurant owned by the same people who own Grill 23 (one of my favorite places). I have had drinks and appetizers at Post 390, but I’ve yet to eat there. Its concept is upscale American comfort food. We grabbed a seat at the bar – very cozy place, beautifully decorated with an awesome gas fire place that I wish we were sitting closer to as I wore a sleeveless dress in February – and ordered some cocktails. I decided to play it safe with another Bloody Mary, and B opted for a gin and tonic. I needed a little more hydration than vodka alone was going to give me, so mix it with tomato juice and horseradish I did.
We only had time for one drink before the play. The play, Legacy of Light, is hard to describe in a sentence or two, but I will tell you it was funny, interesting and recommended. Check it out.
After the play, we had to head over to Harvard Square for dinner. We had 6:00 reservations at Upstairs on the Square. By this point, I’m starving. Corner turned, and appetite raging. We had about 45 minutes to get to Harvard Square after the play. We get back to B’s car to find a parking ticket on it. Apparently, that amazing on-street parking we scored was in a handicapped zone. Oops. As if the day wasn’t expensive enough!
Naturally, at this point, I’m convinced we won’t get to Cambridge in time and I’m panicking that they are going to cancel our reservation. B is completely relaxed and thinking I’m crazy. You see, I think everything is going to take twice as much time as it will and B thinks it will take half the time. This results in me always being early and B always being late. Hopefully we will eventually balance each other out.
On our way to Harvard Square, we make a pit stop. B had ordered me a dozen long stem roses from Winston Flowers, and he needed to pick them up. They are absolutely the most amazingly beautiful roses I’ve ever seen… Check them out!
Okay, the roses have nothing to do with food, but I had to digress for a moment.
It is my experience that restaurants consistently fall down on the busiest days, particularly New Years Eve and Valentine’s Day. I thought Upstairs on the Square had the right idea with their prix fixe menu – limited number of dishes available will allow for faster table turnover, and fewer kitchen screw ups.
Not so much.
The food was good, don’t get me wrong. But it was a two hour meal – and it was only four courses! We opted for the wine pairings menu – three of the courses would be accompanied by a glass of wine for an extra $50 per person. Had I not been starving to death, I probably would have thought “three drinks for $50 is ridiculously unreasonable.” Naturally, that occurred to me during the third course and the second glass of wine. Another thing that was weird… they had available one glass of red, one glass of white, and a champagne for each of the courses. When you made your selection for each choice, they didn’t automatically pick the most appropriate glass of wine – they asked you what you wanted. Huh.
Fortunately, our waiter was really good and he did make recommendations, but it didn’t appear that it was set up that way. They also had the tendency to bring out the wine well before the food came out, which kind of defeated the purpose of the pairings menu.
Now on to the food…
For my first course I got the oysters and ahi tuna, accompanied by a wine that was described as “chardonnay like.” I was a little turned off by the menu’s description of the oysters as “porn star oysters” but I was even more turned off by the description of the wine. It was so crazy sweet – much more like a dessert wine than a chardonnay. B got the beet risotto with beef Carpaccio. Both dishes were good, but the wines did not work with them. (B decided to go for the “chardonnay like” white instead of the pinot noir that was offered. He regretted it.)
There was one salad available for the second course – basically an endive salad with horseradish. And lots of horseradish. More horseradish than endive. There was no wine to accompany this course. And for $50, I think they could have sprung for a glass. But maybe they figured with all that horseradish we would only need water.
For the third course, I got lobster that was served with butternut squash puree, and B got the sirloin steak with pureed potato and spinach. I had champagne and B opted for a pinot noir. (As I write this, I realize it’s crap that they offered two pinot noirs out of three red options. Not okay.) I thought the lobster was good, and generally I like butternut squash (don’t tell my mom), but there was something very odd about a summer fish being served on top of a winter vegetable. B thought his food was reasonable. Not a glowing review, but passable. He originally wanted the duck, but it was prepared with chocolate and that just sounded a little too weird to take a chance on.
For dessert we shared the red velvet cake for two. By then, we were not really hungry. Not because there was too much food, but because it took them an hour and a half to get to the dessert.
I would definitely go back to that restaurant, but not on a special occasion. They just couldn’t handle the crowd. We were seated right outside of the kitchen door, and every single server in the place walked by our table at least a hundred times. And the space between tables was not big enough to make that anything but a major distraction. Our poor waiter had four tables in a row, and it felt like he was apologizing for the delays more than he was doing anything else.
But really, I’m not complaining. It was an amazing day, with a great guy. I would have been happy eating brunch at Dunkin’ Donuts and dinner at McDonald’s as long as I got to spend the day with B. I’m not trading in those roses for dandelions though. Not a chance!
Monday, February 8, 2010
Super Bowl & Snack Fest XLIV
The boys were in sin city for the Super Bowl, so the girls were on their own for the big game last night. The Super Bowl is the perfect opportunity for a culinary showcase. Think about it… two teams, two different cities, two menus going head to head. It really doesn’t get much better for a wannabe foodie.
The classic New Orleans feast would include jambalaya, gumbo, crawfish and a whole lot of creole and cajun seasoning (Bam!). Whip up some beignets for dessert and let’s not forget about the cocktail that made the city famous – the hurricane. (When I visited New Orleans in 2004, I learned that you can have one hurricane, but not two. Let’s just say that the next day was not a good one. I am getting nauseous just thinking about it.)
The classic New Orleans feast would include jambalaya, gumbo, crawfish and a whole lot of creole and cajun seasoning (Bam!). Whip up some beignets for dessert and let’s not forget about the cocktail that made the city famous – the hurricane. (When I visited New Orleans in 2004, I learned that you can have one hurricane, but not two. Let’s just say that the next day was not a good one. I am getting nauseous just thinking about it.)
For the Indianapolis side of the table, we’d have… there would be… umm, well… I guess, cupcakes decorated with indy cars and perhaps some meat. Hopefully not horse meat. Alright, let’s serve some steak and call it a day. I suppose I could always serve chicken cooked under a brick and say it came from the brickyard. But would anyone even get that reference?
Do they even have “a cuisine” in Indianapolis? Would it really be cheating if we served French food in honor of Pierre Garçon? Or couldn’t we just say that Peyton Manning is from New Orleans, so he’s represented with the Saints’ fare?
Seriously. There has to be some type of food that makes that city famous. After all, what did the mayor of Indianapolis use to bet the mayor of New Orleans? Rather than waste more time pondering this, I turned to my trusty friend Google and learned that Indianapolis is famous for breaded pork tenderloin and steak. Okay, so steak I can live with. As long as it’s not horse meat. (You know, because of the Colts, and the horse shoe logo. Shut up.)
So rather than prolonging this charade, I’m just going to tell you what we did. Because in all honesty, we didn’t even attempt to come up with food that was at all representative of the two teams competing for victory. In fact, the idea never came up. I just thought of it right now. Thought it would make good blog fodder. If B and Padraig ever decide to abandon their Las Vegas plans and stay home for the Super Bowl, I promise to prepare a feast that represents the two teams playing in that particular Super Bowl. (Pretty safe to say, I will never have to follow through on this one. Those boys love their Vegas.)
So while the boys were in Vegas, it was Snack Fest XLIV for Beth and Lindsay.
Our menu consisted of the following:
- Nachos with homemade salsa and guacamole (courtesy of Lindsay)
- Potato chips (not even the good kind, those fat free ones that you can only eat at home, just to be safe)
- Clam dip (it is a Ryan family favorite, I’d share the recipe but it’s a family secret. Okay, you can find it on the side of the can of Snow’s minced clams)
- Shrimp cocktail (because Lindsay said “maybe we should have some protein”)
- Jax (as promised in my post last week)
- Beer
Even though the Super Bowl does present an opportunity for a great culinary/cooking showdown each year, I am damn proud of Snack Fest XLIV. Lindsay’s friend Carrie came by for the game, and she raved about the clam dip. If your food gets compliments, you win. Plain and simple.
But don’t fear… I did make several attempts to cook good food in the days leading up to the Super Bowl. On Tuesday, in honor of the Lost premiere, I prepared an island themed dinner – tilapia with homemade mango salsa (delicious!), coconut rice and green bean salad. I don’t really know what was so island themed about the green bean salad, but I needed something green and it looked pretty and tasted great. And I made rice pudding with the leftover coconut rice (which was way better than the coconut rice itself – I’m just not a huge rice fan unless it’s risotto or pork fried). On Saturday, my friends Lori and Amy came over for a girl’s night and I made pizza. Somehow, I managed to overcook it, despite using the exact same directions that I use every single time I make pizza. They were, of course, polite enough to eat it anyway. Lori even went so far as to say she prefers her pizza burnt. (So cute.)
Valentine’s Day is next Sunday, so there will be no cooking for me. B has made reservations for brunch and dinner (how lucky am I?) so maybe there will be some restaurant reviews in my future… See you next week!
Sunday, January 31, 2010
What to Cook Next?
I was getting into a pretty good groove of cooking a nice meal on Sunday nights and having something to write about. This week we shook things up a bit – cooked dinner last night, and will be ordering greasy Chinese take out for dinner as soon as B gets here. (And I’m totally excited for crab rangoons and egg rolls!!)
Last night’s meal was nothing too exciting. Swordfish steaks with roasted potatoes, green beans sautéed in garlic herb butter and a garden salad. The swordfish had an herb rub made from fresh herbs, kosher salt, olive oil and lemon zest. It added a very nice flavor to the fish, which despite the odds working against me, was cooked perfectly. (For the first few minutes of broiling, I forgot to leave the oven door ajar, and it took 5 minutes longer than the How to Cook Everything guy said it would.) My issues with the meal were that I think I used too much butter on the green beans, and the potatoes weren’t as hot as I wanted them to be (since the damn fish took too long to cook).
But fortunately, B – the dear, sweet man that he is – had no complaints. He’s making this too easy on me. Then again, I’d be upset if he didn’t like what I cooked, so I should count myself as lucky that I have a guy who seems like he will only tell me that he likes my cooking!
Last night’s meal was nothing too exciting. Swordfish steaks with roasted potatoes, green beans sautéed in garlic herb butter and a garden salad. The swordfish had an herb rub made from fresh herbs, kosher salt, olive oil and lemon zest. It added a very nice flavor to the fish, which despite the odds working against me, was cooked perfectly. (For the first few minutes of broiling, I forgot to leave the oven door ajar, and it took 5 minutes longer than the How to Cook Everything guy said it would.) My issues with the meal were that I think I used too much butter on the green beans, and the potatoes weren’t as hot as I wanted them to be (since the damn fish took too long to cook).
But fortunately, B – the dear, sweet man that he is – had no complaints. He’s making this too easy on me. Then again, I’d be upset if he didn’t like what I cooked, so I should count myself as lucky that I have a guy who seems like he will only tell me that he likes my cooking!
Chinese takeout aside, I’m at a loss for what to cook next. There are so many important days coming up (Super Bowl Sunday, Valentine’s Day and B’s birthday), so I need to pull a list together and start planning. Super Bowl Sunday will most likely consist of a bag of Jax and a six pack of beer… maybe some potato chips and onion dip. If I decide to get fancy, it’ll be with shrimp cocktail. And let’s face it, as much as I enjoy cooking, I’m not cooking on Valentine’s Day.
Here are a few ideas I’m contemplating:
- Homemade pasta… my mom got me the pasta maker attachment for my KitchenAid stand mixer for Christmas. I’m dying to make some spaghetti. Which means I need to make some more sauce – good sauce this time (I keep having flashbacks to the sauce I ruined with burnt meatballs the first time I cooked for B).
- Cioppino… I can’t forget the delicious spicy seafood stew I had at RM Seafood in Vegas. And it was served with pasta, so I can kill two birds with one stone with this meal.
- More mussel experimentation… I wrote about cooking mussels a while back, and I need to try a few more sauces. When B and I were in Maine, we had mussels steamed with cider jack. If I can figure out a way to only have to buy one bottle of cider jack instead of a six pack, I may give this one a shot.
- Mexican fiesta… Lindsay and I were planning a Mexican fiesta for the Patriots tailgate back in October, then Padraig shut us down. (And yes, it’s okay to be shut down for lobster and steamers. So I’m not really complaining.) Not sure if Lindsay still has all the sauces and seasonings she had a few months ago, but if so, we should get this rescheduled. (Lindsay, if you’re reading this, let me know what you think!) Or I can just wait until I’m in Mexico in 41 days and have it cooked for me. Hmm… this may be a better idea. (Sorry, Lindsay.)
- Birthday cake – from scratch – for B… this one needs some planning, since we are going to Mexico for his birthday. So, the cake will have to be either early or late. B was one of the victims of the bland made-from-scratch cupcakes I served at the aforementioned Patriots tailgate party, so I do have a little redemption coming my way.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
The Best Thing She Ever Cooked
When we last saw our fearless heroine, the Wannabe Foodie, she was basking in the glory of her roast chicken success. Feeling good, and maybe just a little cocky, she decided it was time to bring out the big guns. It was time for the manicotti. Yes, the manicotti that has been deemed “the best thing she ever cooked.”
Now keep in mind, this praise was heaped upon her by two of her toughest critics – her dad and her brother. And these two never agree on anything. (Which is probably why the praise came on separate occasions, with neither knowing that the other had provided the same feedback.)
After an afternoon at the Boston Wine Expo on Saturday, followed by dinner at Morton’s, the Wannabe Foodie decided she wanted to impress her love, the man known as B, with her manicotti. It was time. She was ready.
Her day was planned. She would visit her parents, then on her way home hit the grocery store to buy the necessary supplies. While B was out taking care of some things on his To Do list, Wannabe Foodie would make the sauce, mix the filling, and prepare the pasta. She would add a salad and some homemade garlic bread, too.
With her grocery list in hand, and her plan in place, the Wannabe Foodie went to her trusty chariot, also known as The Trailblazer, to embark on her journey.
Effin’ A, the car won’t start. Nothing. Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me. (Turns out, car batteries don’t last 6+ years. Who knew?)
B was gone, and his phone was dead. There was no way to get in touch with him to ask if he’d pick up the groceries. And besides, he wouldn’t be back until after three o’clock, which means that she would be preparing the manicotti instead of watching the AFC championship game. (And since the Wannabe Foodie is a die hard Colts fan, sorry New England, this was not an option. Relax, I still like the Patriots.)
Fortunately, Wannabe Foodie’s dad came to the rescue. With the promise of his own batch of manicotti, he whisked her off to the market to procure the necessary provisions.
With the roadblocks out of the way, the preparation could begin. Despite the fact that the Wannabe Foodie once again ignored her own best advise by not prepping her mise en place, everything was perfect. B was impressed – two weeks in a row!! (When pressed, he indicated that he thinks it was the best she ever cooked him. Fortunately, he's having trouble remembering everything she has cooked for him. Phew!)
Wannabe Foodie is on a roll. What will she cook next?
* * * * *
In honor of Championship Sunday (and a Colts win!), I’m re-running one of my first posts… my review of the Brett Favre Steak House in Green Bay, WI. As it stands at this very moment, the New Orleans Saints are beating Mr. Favre is in Vikings 21-14 (with about 8 minutes left in the 3rd quarter). As you will notice, I am not a fan of Brett Favre, and hopefully you’re not either and you’ll enjoy the re-run of this post. Go Saints!
A New England Girl in Green Bay Territory
Originally ran July 30, 2009
Dear Mr. Favre:
I recently found myself in the Green Bay area, and had the “pleasure” of dining in your “steak house.” I have a bone to pick with you…
First of all, are you trying to kill me? Since when is a baked potato served with more ounces of butter, sour cream and cheese than the potato itself? Granted, I’m in Wisconsin. I will deal with the cheese. But to have a potato so dripping in butter fat is not okay.
Shall I discuss the ambience? You’re a good looking guy, but I don’t want to look at you that much. Wall to wall, side by side, nothing but pictures of you. No other memorabilia from your time in Green Bay - it was less a restaurant and more a Brett Favre portrait museum that happened to serve food. This sentiment has nothing to do with me being from New England. I wouldn’t even want to look at Tom Brady that much. And he’s a really good looking guy.
There were six in our party. Our bread basket had five rolls. People eat carbs these days. Accept it.
We started with the chilled seafood platter. Since the dish is described as chilled, our expectation was that it would be cold, perhaps served on ice. There is nothing good about eating room temperature oysters. Nothing. Especially in Wisconsin – you’re nowhere near the ocean. Ewww.
About 30 minutes after our starter, the salad course was served. Unremarkable. It was more like dressing soup, garnished with some lettuce.
The entrees were actually pretty good. No need to provide constructive criticism – we all legitimately enjoyed our steaks (and roast chicken, for the one red meat hold out of the group). As I previously mentioned, the baked potato could have done with a little less saturated fat. After all, isn’t it supposed to be a relatively healthy side dish?
Only two of us ordered dessert. The carrot cake was good, but a little heavy. I’ll own that, and give you a thumbs up. The key lime pie was also well received – and by a New York Football Giants fan nonetheless.
All in all, I’d say the food was okay, the décor a bit extravagant. But I didn’t see any Super Bowl XXXI memorabilia from where I was sitting, so you’re off the hook for that one.
Best of luck in your retirement. I hope you enjoy a full summer off before you change your mind and look for a new place to play ball.
Sincerely,
A Wannabe Foodie
Now keep in mind, this praise was heaped upon her by two of her toughest critics – her dad and her brother. And these two never agree on anything. (Which is probably why the praise came on separate occasions, with neither knowing that the other had provided the same feedback.)
After an afternoon at the Boston Wine Expo on Saturday, followed by dinner at Morton’s, the Wannabe Foodie decided she wanted to impress her love, the man known as B, with her manicotti. It was time. She was ready.
Her day was planned. She would visit her parents, then on her way home hit the grocery store to buy the necessary supplies. While B was out taking care of some things on his To Do list, Wannabe Foodie would make the sauce, mix the filling, and prepare the pasta. She would add a salad and some homemade garlic bread, too.
With her grocery list in hand, and her plan in place, the Wannabe Foodie went to her trusty chariot, also known as The Trailblazer, to embark on her journey.
Effin’ A, the car won’t start. Nothing. Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me. (Turns out, car batteries don’t last 6+ years. Who knew?)
B was gone, and his phone was dead. There was no way to get in touch with him to ask if he’d pick up the groceries. And besides, he wouldn’t be back until after three o’clock, which means that she would be preparing the manicotti instead of watching the AFC championship game. (And since the Wannabe Foodie is a die hard Colts fan, sorry New England, this was not an option. Relax, I still like the Patriots.)
Fortunately, Wannabe Foodie’s dad came to the rescue. With the promise of his own batch of manicotti, he whisked her off to the market to procure the necessary provisions.
With the roadblocks out of the way, the preparation could begin. Despite the fact that the Wannabe Foodie once again ignored her own best advise by not prepping her mise en place, everything was perfect. B was impressed – two weeks in a row!! (When pressed, he indicated that he thinks it was the best she ever cooked him. Fortunately, he's having trouble remembering everything she has cooked for him. Phew!)
Wannabe Foodie is on a roll. What will she cook next?
* * * * *
In honor of Championship Sunday (and a Colts win!), I’m re-running one of my first posts… my review of the Brett Favre Steak House in Green Bay, WI. As it stands at this very moment, the New Orleans Saints are beating Mr. Favre is in Vikings 21-14 (with about 8 minutes left in the 3rd quarter). As you will notice, I am not a fan of Brett Favre, and hopefully you’re not either and you’ll enjoy the re-run of this post. Go Saints!
A New England Girl in Green Bay Territory
Originally ran July 30, 2009
Dear Mr. Favre:
I recently found myself in the Green Bay area, and had the “pleasure” of dining in your “steak house.” I have a bone to pick with you…
First of all, are you trying to kill me? Since when is a baked potato served with more ounces of butter, sour cream and cheese than the potato itself? Granted, I’m in Wisconsin. I will deal with the cheese. But to have a potato so dripping in butter fat is not okay.
Shall I discuss the ambience? You’re a good looking guy, but I don’t want to look at you that much. Wall to wall, side by side, nothing but pictures of you. No other memorabilia from your time in Green Bay - it was less a restaurant and more a Brett Favre portrait museum that happened to serve food. This sentiment has nothing to do with me being from New England. I wouldn’t even want to look at Tom Brady that much. And he’s a really good looking guy.
There were six in our party. Our bread basket had five rolls. People eat carbs these days. Accept it.
We started with the chilled seafood platter. Since the dish is described as chilled, our expectation was that it would be cold, perhaps served on ice. There is nothing good about eating room temperature oysters. Nothing. Especially in Wisconsin – you’re nowhere near the ocean. Ewww.
About 30 minutes after our starter, the salad course was served. Unremarkable. It was more like dressing soup, garnished with some lettuce.
The entrees were actually pretty good. No need to provide constructive criticism – we all legitimately enjoyed our steaks (and roast chicken, for the one red meat hold out of the group). As I previously mentioned, the baked potato could have done with a little less saturated fat. After all, isn’t it supposed to be a relatively healthy side dish?
Only two of us ordered dessert. The carrot cake was good, but a little heavy. I’ll own that, and give you a thumbs up. The key lime pie was also well received – and by a New York Football Giants fan nonetheless.
All in all, I’d say the food was okay, the décor a bit extravagant. But I didn’t see any Super Bowl XXXI memorabilia from where I was sitting, so you’re off the hook for that one.
Best of luck in your retirement. I hope you enjoy a full summer off before you change your mind and look for a new place to play ball.
Sincerely,
A Wannabe Foodie
Sunday, January 17, 2010
The ULTIMATE Chicken Roaster
My loyal readers will recall that I have – on several occasions – claimed to be able to roast a chicken with the best of them. They will also recall that everything I have cooked for B since we started dating a few months ago has not turned out all that good. In that time, I have roasted several chickens and they have come out great. Of course, B wasn’t around to eat them. It’s kind of like when a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it… How do we really know the chicken was great if there were no witnesses except for the chef herself? (Okay, the cook. I know I’m no chef!)
The time has come, my friends. This evening, B will be eating his first ever Beth Ryan prepared roast chicken.
I have done everything I can to ensure a perfect meal. I bought the expensive, all natural Bell & Evans fresh chicken, brushed up on my roasting techniques by reading cookbooks, browsing websites and watching the latest episode of America’s Test Kitchen on PBS. (Coincidentally, the subject was how to cook the perfect, crispy skinned, roast chicken.)
And the piece de resistance… I purchased the ULTIMATE chicken roaster. Yes, my Calphalon roasting pan is good enough. But I have learned that standing the bird up ensures a better roast. But my oven is just slightly too small for my stand-up rack. Granted, that hasn’t stopped me before but since B is here while I do this cooking, I did not want the whole house to fill up with smoke like it tends to do when I use that rack. A smoke filled kitchen does not do much to instill confidence that the meal will turn out fantastic. (Trust me, I speak from B-specific experience.)
What is the ULTIMATE chicken roaster, you ask? It’s an All-Clad, Williams-Sonoma exclusive, stainless steel, shallow roasting pan with an extension arm and reservoir for holding liquids to infuse the meat. Can’t picture it? Here it is:
We saw this in the Thanksgiving edition of the Williams-Sonoma catalog (one of my favorite reads). We talked about buying it, and never got around to it. After all, do I really need another roasting pan? Especially a $180 one?
But now it’s time for me to put up, or shut up. I can either roast a damn good chicken or I’m full of crap. So, off to Williams-Sonoma I go, armed with the gift card Lindsay gave me for Christmas to help mitigate some of the damage to the wallet. And let me tell you, this is a beautiful pan – almost too pretty to use.
After I got over the beauty of my new ULTIMATE chicken roaster (that’s literally what it’s called – but I did add the capitalization for color and excitement), I was ready to get to work. The menu for this evening was as follows: roast chicken, stuffing, roasted vegetables (potato, broccoli and mushrooms) and garden salad.
The vegetables were cut, dressed with olive oil, seasoned with fresh rosemary, kosher salt and fresh ground pepper and adorned with lemon slices and a few mashed garlic cloves. For extra flavor, I splashed them with a little organic chicken broth. The salad was simple – fresh lettuce and tomatoes from the farmer’s market, red onion, celery, scallions, cucumber and Belgian endive. I used Pepperidge Farm stuffing mix (my old roommate Lova will be glad to learn that I have graduated from Stove Top – well, perhaps “moved on” is a better word than “graduated”), added the onion and celery, used garlic herb butter instead of regular, and finished it off with some of the chicken broth.
The chicken is where my handiwork needs to shine.
First, I rinsed the chicken and patted it dry. Then, I separated the skin from the meat, to allow some air to help with the crispiness. After that, I made a few incisions in the skin where there were fat deposits, and again on the back to allow the fat to drain (and help ensure that side gets crispy skin as well). I salt and peppered the bird inside and out, and then rubbed it generously with olive oil. In the reservoir, I added chicken broth, fresh squeezed lemon juice, a smashed garlic clove (also from the farmer’s market) and a sprig of rosemary. For good measure, I added a squeeze of fresh lemon juice on the breast.
I would like to say that I did this all by myself, but once it came time to tie the chicken to the extension arm I did need an extra set of hands and had to ask B for a little help. But, the rest was all me. (I will regret these words if the chicken turns out awful.) Here is the before shot:
Now, it’s time to wait…
Ah, dinner’s ready. Here is the after shot:
While the chicken didn’t brown on all sides like I had hoped, it was delicious. The stand-up rack was better for that, but I think I can learn by trial and error (perhaps starting the bird breast side down, and rotating it halfway through cooking). The thing that mattered most was the meal was good. B thought so, and I thought so. The gravy was a little too lemony, and the vegetables had a distinct lemon favor as well (although for the most part, not too overwhelming).
But the overall verdict was positive. B said that the whole meal was good, the chicken was nice and moist, the potatoes were seasoned well (and the salad was just a salad – I’ll take that as a good thing since I know he likes salad). In the past, B has said some nice things about my food while I have been disappointed. Since I was pleased and he still said nice things, I have no choice but to believe that I FINALLY cooked him a good meal. Yea me!!
And now, there is some leftover Wally the Green Monster ice cream for dessert…
The time has come, my friends. This evening, B will be eating his first ever Beth Ryan prepared roast chicken.
I have done everything I can to ensure a perfect meal. I bought the expensive, all natural Bell & Evans fresh chicken, brushed up on my roasting techniques by reading cookbooks, browsing websites and watching the latest episode of America’s Test Kitchen on PBS. (Coincidentally, the subject was how to cook the perfect, crispy skinned, roast chicken.)
And the piece de resistance… I purchased the ULTIMATE chicken roaster. Yes, my Calphalon roasting pan is good enough. But I have learned that standing the bird up ensures a better roast. But my oven is just slightly too small for my stand-up rack. Granted, that hasn’t stopped me before but since B is here while I do this cooking, I did not want the whole house to fill up with smoke like it tends to do when I use that rack. A smoke filled kitchen does not do much to instill confidence that the meal will turn out fantastic. (Trust me, I speak from B-specific experience.)
What is the ULTIMATE chicken roaster, you ask? It’s an All-Clad, Williams-Sonoma exclusive, stainless steel, shallow roasting pan with an extension arm and reservoir for holding liquids to infuse the meat. Can’t picture it? Here it is:
But now it’s time for me to put up, or shut up. I can either roast a damn good chicken or I’m full of crap. So, off to Williams-Sonoma I go, armed with the gift card Lindsay gave me for Christmas to help mitigate some of the damage to the wallet. And let me tell you, this is a beautiful pan – almost too pretty to use.
After I got over the beauty of my new ULTIMATE chicken roaster (that’s literally what it’s called – but I did add the capitalization for color and excitement), I was ready to get to work. The menu for this evening was as follows: roast chicken, stuffing, roasted vegetables (potato, broccoli and mushrooms) and garden salad.
The vegetables were cut, dressed with olive oil, seasoned with fresh rosemary, kosher salt and fresh ground pepper and adorned with lemon slices and a few mashed garlic cloves. For extra flavor, I splashed them with a little organic chicken broth. The salad was simple – fresh lettuce and tomatoes from the farmer’s market, red onion, celery, scallions, cucumber and Belgian endive. I used Pepperidge Farm stuffing mix (my old roommate Lova will be glad to learn that I have graduated from Stove Top – well, perhaps “moved on” is a better word than “graduated”), added the onion and celery, used garlic herb butter instead of regular, and finished it off with some of the chicken broth.
The chicken is where my handiwork needs to shine.
First, I rinsed the chicken and patted it dry. Then, I separated the skin from the meat, to allow some air to help with the crispiness. After that, I made a few incisions in the skin where there were fat deposits, and again on the back to allow the fat to drain (and help ensure that side gets crispy skin as well). I salt and peppered the bird inside and out, and then rubbed it generously with olive oil. In the reservoir, I added chicken broth, fresh squeezed lemon juice, a smashed garlic clove (also from the farmer’s market) and a sprig of rosemary. For good measure, I added a squeeze of fresh lemon juice on the breast.
I would like to say that I did this all by myself, but once it came time to tie the chicken to the extension arm I did need an extra set of hands and had to ask B for a little help. But, the rest was all me. (I will regret these words if the chicken turns out awful.) Here is the before shot:
Now, it’s time to wait…
Ah, dinner’s ready. Here is the after shot:
While the chicken didn’t brown on all sides like I had hoped, it was delicious. The stand-up rack was better for that, but I think I can learn by trial and error (perhaps starting the bird breast side down, and rotating it halfway through cooking). The thing that mattered most was the meal was good. B thought so, and I thought so. The gravy was a little too lemony, and the vegetables had a distinct lemon favor as well (although for the most part, not too overwhelming).
But the overall verdict was positive. B said that the whole meal was good, the chicken was nice and moist, the potatoes were seasoned well (and the salad was just a salad – I’ll take that as a good thing since I know he likes salad). In the past, B has said some nice things about my food while I have been disappointed. Since I was pleased and he still said nice things, I have no choice but to believe that I FINALLY cooked him a good meal. Yea me!!
And now, there is some leftover Wally the Green Monster ice cream for dessert…
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