Category: Food

The African Cookbook

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African CookbookSandler, Bea. The African Cookbook: Menus and Recipes From Eleven African Countries and the Island of Zanzibar. New York: Citadel Press Book, 1993.

This is a gorgeous cookbook. Not just for the recipes and menus, but also for the art. The illustrations by Diane and Leo Dillon are amazing. My personal favorite introduces the recipes of Tanzania (p. 57).
In the first half of the cookbook the recipes cover all the regions of African cooking. In addition each chapter has a section on the culture of the region, how meals are served (traditionally) and how you, the American cook, can pull off your own Tanzanian, South African or Liberian meal. The second half of the cookbook covers additional recipes. Chapters are gouped by product – fish, poultry, beef, starch, etc.
Something else I find interesting is the nontraditional layout of each recipe. You won’t find a list of ingredients and then preparation instructions. Instead, each ingredient is presented as needed in the preparation instructions. Something I am never good at is reading through the entire recipe before starting and with The African Cookbook that step would be imperative.

BookLust Twist: From More Book Lust in the chapter “Africa: A Reader’s Itinerary” (p4).

Cooking It Up

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I have been a cooking fiend. Last night was scallops and spaghetti sprinkled with chili peppers, cilantro, garlic and olive oil. Skewers of toasted sourdough and mozzarella cubes drizzled with garlic, lemon juice and butter. I’m addicted to gratins and fresh herbs lately. Fish poached in coconut cream and sesame seeds. It’s time to break out the smoker. Hickory chips are waiting to burn. Baked beans with smoky chipotles and bacon simmer with sweet brown sugar. It’s summertime, after all. Aint it funny how I’ve become so consumed by food?
I have a friend who can only be described as my food friend for we only meet for meals. Nothing more, nothing less. We don’t talk on the phone. We don’t see movies. We place all of our conversations in the company of food. Something new to talk about only goes with something good to taste. He wants me to try a deep fried hamburger. He’s the same one who wanted me to try goat testicles
Food circles my life and winds in and out of my days.
To celebrate the Closer I have wine (Merlot, of course) followed by one perfect RingDing. Kisa gets the other one. We lick chocolate off our fingers and smack our lips for a treat too small.
Before Rebecca shows it’s gourmet pizza and maybe now a rootbeer float after. I just need to find a better beer.
Then there are roadtrips. They require bottled water and smoky, salty beef jerky.
Monhegan means crab apples straight from the tree, blackberries from the bush, mocha whoopie pies and lobster by sunset’s dying glow.
If I lived in New Jersey I would want a Creations salad, a spicy italian sub or better yet, a shopping spree at Delicious Orchards. Picking perfect plums, soft gouda cheese and crusty sourdough bread. A picnic by the sea.
If I lived in Colorado it would be a Chipotles burrito chased by Fat Tire – bar none.
My most intimate moments are prefaced by food. Sharing spoonfuls of something good leading to something better. Leaning in over linguini to confess something deep.
Food has always hidden my denying ways. Picking walnuts out of a waldorf while breaking up; bringing the rest home to my sister. Holding an oversized mug of coffee with both hands, steam hiding my face as I hear about the cancer that is killing you. You can’t see my tears. Flinging tomatoes to swooping, squawking seagulls, pretending not to hear, yet I listen.

Feed me.

My Good Friend RootBeer Float

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This was a night of obsessions. No other way to put it. First it was M coming up from NY, then it was G&S meeting up after their charity walk, then it was R&C taking a break from weekend chores and weekend work-too-hard, then it was S&J finding their way to Bishops. Finally, it was meeting up with J&S so the eleven of us could cheer on Rebecca. I got to hear yet even more new songs (new to me, maybe old to others..I don’t know). They were still great.

1.) Just a Boy (?) – First time hearing this one. Not sure I’ve got the title right.
2.) Miss You – title track off the “new” album. I can’t help but sing along.
3.) On Your Way Down – I love the word beast in this song. It’s so startling.
4.) Yours – I don’t know why but I keep calling this song “Reason Why”
5.) Nothing Left To Take – (which I call My Mistake)
6.) Walking Backwards
7.) Tell Kyle – another new one that is so so sad!
8.) Divorced – I admit, I requested this one. I wanted S to hear it.
9.) Sonnet #30 – Who doesn’t love Shakespeare put to music? The applause was awesome!
10.) Quiet Hands – another request
11.) Miss Innocent – I wanted to ask Rebecca if she had seen Paul McCartney’s commerical with the mandolin.
12.) Gin

I love getting together for Rebecca shows. I love meeting for basil & tomato pizza and eating it crust first. Ripping it apart into cheesy bites, cornmeal dusting my paper plate as we laugh and gossip and catch up. I love seeing amazing friends come together to support the music, even if isn’t their “type.” I took pictures of the couples, capturing their warmth, mine for keeps. One of the best parts of the night was kisa buying a cd and offering it up to anyone who wanted it. Rebecca told me I had married a good man and all I could do was smile. I know.

After the show 7 of us went to Friendly’s because I was obsessed with having a rootbeer float. People joked about me being deprived but I wasn’t the only one who hadn’t grown up with these strange concoctions. Someone else in our group admitted to having one for the first time “just the other day.” HA! Although it wasn’t as exciting as I thought it would be. Someone told me I didn’t have the right kind of rootbeer. Who knew?
We finished the night watching Mr. Nash’s Drum video and talking about small feet, crazy people, “popping out” (what kind of friend are YOU?) and the Japanese tourist. Laughing too hard for my own good.

Planning Your Escape

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Sunday we planned our July island trip. Kisa & I met Bri & Stace for coffee, huevos rancheros, coffee, sunflower oatmeal toast, coffee and a little island planning. A leisurely two hour brunch. Not much to plan except what boat to take, what night to order lobsters and who’s in charge of pancakes for breakfast. Talking food was fun. Stace is going to make chicken parm, I mentioned a chili lime corn on the cob cooked on the grill…lobster in rolls or steamed straight up? Make-Your-Own-Tacos with lots and lots of ingredients. We are close enough to town to roll out of bed for chai and scones if no one wants to tackle the griddle, close enough to Sue’s amazing pizza for lunch.

My only other dilemma is what to books to bring…

Party

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This picture has absolutely nothing to do with the blog other than it’s a party…and the fact someone in this picture is celebrating a birthday today. Happy Birthday, my friend! XOXO

Leftovers. The very word implies discarded, used up, tired, unwanted. This morning I made french toast with Easter old challah bread and bottom-of-the-quart strawberries. Food leftover from the family visit. The french toast was better than the original purpose of any of these ingredients. Oddly enough.

There are leftovers all over my apartment. Empty plastic eggs, a sad deflated rabbit, sticky Scooby stickers and an Easter cake fast drying out. I’m at a loss as to what to do with the remains of a visit gone by. We never touched half the food I bought in preparation. I don’t know what I thought I was preparing for but it never happened. The only thing worth keeping around is the blooming Easter lily that fills my kitchen with the heady scent of the spring that refuses to arrive.
This afternoon I’ll fold up the blankets, put away the books, clean out the fridge, dismantle the crib and throw out the rabbit head. The party is over. It’s like traveling across the country and stopping along the way to look at some amusement park or scenic landscape. The party is over so it’s time to get back on the road.

Can’t Love You Enough

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                                                            Chipotle

My husband went to Denver for a week. For a week. That’s a long time when you never get sick of someone. It would be different if we needed head space or elbow room. Our body parts didn’t need distance. Always questioning what’s in it for me I discovered the only benefit of putting my kisa in Denver is Chipotle. I dare anyone to find me a better burrito. Definitely dare you. Chipotle has its own wiki page for Frank’s Sake!
I can’t love Chipotle enough. The affair started in 2000. I was introduced to a chicken, double salsa, cilantro-lime rice, black bean, cheddar cheese & sour cream cylinder of goodness within moments of arriving in Denver. Love at first bite. Heaven and Hell. Heaven because I had never tasted anything so good. Hell because it didn’t exist on the eastern seaboard. I was hooked. Caught up in the pleasure and pain of I-Have-To-Eat-The-Whole-Thing. So full I had to unzip my pants, but I finished it…satisfied.
I left Denver in ignorance and innocence having not yet learned of transcontinental burrito travel. Once home I wrote bigwig Joe Stupp of my adoration for his chicken burrito and my lament at leaving the land of yum. He wrote back with coupons, good for youknowwhats and the assurance that Chipotle would dominate the east coast very soon. (As of today, four have invaded New York City.)
How much do I love these bomblike burritos? At Christmas 2001 a friend was detained at the airport and nearly missed his flight. He was searched because he carried a suspicious silver cylinder. His crime? Bringing me a frozen burrito wrapped in aluminum. I joined the fan-club in 2000. I get their email newsletter despite the fact it would take me three hours to order from the nearest menu.

Today, I am enjoying a chicken, double salsa, cheese, bean and rice number courtesy of being separated from my husband. Courtesy of a long distance love affair. I can’t love you enough.
burrito

Smirk

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Dear You,

I call today Shakespeare. A tragedy and comedy all rolled up in one. Work was good, for once. Isn’t it funny that the moneymaker is an okay place to be?
I came home to the crib. Or not. I think Papa tried and untried a gazillion times. He finally gave up claiming fatigue. I can’t blame him. He banged your mother on the head with a power drill (she’s fine). We’ll try again tomorrow.
I was accused of trying to burn the house down. See, it’s like this. I wanted to use the smoker again. Turkey burgers done up in hickory and homemade barbecue. Doesn’t that sound good? No standing in front of the fridge eating cottage cheese from the container; pickles from the jar; fingers sticky and cold. I wanted a real meal complete with baked beans and cheddar cheese. The smoker, well, it smokes. Your dad wanted to know why the smoke detector didn’t go off…oops…busted. He shook a finger at me and I swear I heard a tsk, tsk in there.
Indy is still crying. She claims you left her for Maggie. I told her I didn’t think she was your type but still she carries on.
Me, even though it’s only 9pm I’m going to bed. I’ve discovered diagonal isn’t that bad. I don’t ditch the sheet either.
Tell Johnny I think his queso story is bunk and that Chipotle still rules the planet. Hang onto that cell phone and call soon.
love, me

Rocking

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Dear You,
It’s only 9 something pm but I think my head will find the pillow soon. Things are fine. I gorged on tons of TV until my hand fell asleep from changing channels. I think I like this rule the remote thing. Your mother-in-law called – wanted to talk about the house. I suppose it needs to happen sometime, right? Your daughter is bitchy. Says I’m not fooling anyone as she sniffs around for the body. I swear I didn’t kill you but she just won’t believe me. Call soon so I can put her on the phone. I’ve been in communication with your parents. We slide notes back and forth under the door. Rent is due, crib is ready when you are. Okay, I made that first part up but I’ll write a check anyway.
By the way, the rice cooker isn’t broken. I’m just an idiot. And. The chocolate raspberry sauce works on graham crackers.
Speaking of food – how was that burrito? You better bring me back one – make that two. One for both hands. I can handle it. Tell the boys I said hi.
love, me
ps~ No hot air balloon ride. Sorry.

With Indifference

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I think I’m overtired because this is how I feel. Sideways. Leaning back in my not there chair, almost on the way down. I’ve been this way all morning. Maybe it’s the daytime hue. The gray outside my window flattens and dulls every other color. Brick isn’t a shade of red but rather an ugly brown. Trees look more dead black than living green. They are neutral colors to the point of washed out blah. My senses are flat-lined and bored. 1pm looks just the same as 8am did. The path of the sun has been invisible, sulky and sullen just like me, myself & moi. I wish it would rain. I’m the type of person who wants a reason for the weather. The cold without snow, clouds without rain – they seem pointless. I need purpose. It’s hard to be motivated in the face of such indifference.

I will go home and put on the nanooks. I’ll close the blinds against the colorless sky. Maybe make some tea. Try my hand at rice. Again. Eat it right out of the bowl with parmesan and butter, salt and pepper. I won’t think about the streaks on the window I can’t seem to rub out and watch tv instead. I’ll rule the remote until I realize I’m lonely and it’s not fun anymore. Inevitably, I’ll end up talking to the cat. Together, we’ll count down the days until kisa comes home.

Dangerous to D’bone

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knivesIt was Christmas again yesterday (in more ways than one, but I’ll get to that some other time). In December Kisa bought me a knife. I guess, according to someone in the culinary world, it is bad luck to buy someone a knife. To offset the “badness” you must give money as well. Are you thinking scam? Because it sounds like a scam to me…but nevertheless Kisa presented me not only with an eight inch Santoku (pictured here) he also gave me a gift certificate which I used for a knife skills class.
Class was yesterday. For me, the biggest rattler of life is thinking you know something and then finding out you’ve been wrong all along. A loser in the knowledge department. Playing the fool in the grand scheme of things. Such was my case before getting to class. I have been slicing, dicing, mincing, milling, you name it, for years. Someone had tried to show me the “right” way to dice. What if I really had been doing it all wrong, wrong, wrong all this time? A worse thought? I’d have to touch a chicken bone-in. I even joked with kisa the night before, “watch. They’re gonna make me debone a chicken.” I was practically trembling when I got to class. And I was right. And wrong.

I was right about the chicken.chicken Wrong about my abilities. Here’s the bottom line on holding a sharp instrument – it’s a sharp instrument. Hold it any damn way you please to get the job done…with care. There are four professional ways to hold food while “knifing” it. But, variations are acceptable. Completely acceptable. Yay. Class was easier than easy because everything the instructor taught us was something I either knew how to do really well (citrus supremes) or had attempted a few times (Asian garnishes) and everything in between. I’ve never worked in a restaurant but somehow I’ve held my own when holding a knife.

Then came the chicken. Unchartered waters for sure. I have never ever so much as touched a raw chicken that still has it’s skeletal structure. Panic set in. Surely this is where I would slice a thumb off, throw up, or worse – faint. Meat on the bone creates vegetarian thoughts in me. Seriously. Bones make it easier to see the creature it really is. Or Was. Whatever.
The instructor set to instructing. Her “first you do this, then this, then this, then this, then this…” play by play made my head spin. How would I remember to do that in that order? I think my eyes glazed over at that point. When we finally put boning knife to bony chicken I thought “surgery” and went to work. By the end I had a perfectly butterflied, boneless, not-resembling-an-animal-anymore piece of meat. The instructor came by and uttered “perfect” before moving on. Who knew anyone would say “perfect” in my presence? Perfectly unprepared for that.

I learned. I learned how to hone a knife (I mastered 20 degrees on my first try). I learned what dulls a knife (fat, picking up food). But, most importantly, I learned not to take my own knowledge for granted. I sell myself and my abilities short and this was just one more reason why I shouldn’t.

SoulSessionSeanRoweComingSoon…..

Day 1 Ended

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TO ACCOMPLISH TODAY:
1.) Shop for three (3) meals (something chicken, something pork, something veggie:
Done! The “new” market is a bit fancy-schmancy but I enjoyed myself. Garlic and lemons, green onions and apricots, feta and picante tomato juice.
2.) Get phone numbers, addresses and emails to Hub.
Done! Technically, that should have taken a fraction of my time but I got sucked into #3…
3.) Read Climate of Treason for an hour.
Done! I got a few chapters read and since this law book isn’t due back for another month I’m in good shape.
4.) Read Children of the Souls for an hour.
I actually read 7 1/2 Cents instead. Reading two World War I books back to back was a little much. I opted for 7 because it’s humorous.
5.) Practice yoga for an hour.
6.) Write up a to-do list for the guest room(s). Gotta love lists! 😉 Yes, but I never got to it.
7.) Continue the great curtain hunt.
I looked online and wasn’t happy with anything I found. This is going to be more difficult than I thought.
8.) Pay some bills.
9.) Draft the first letter to Yoko.
I did this in my head a few times. Never made it to paper. Maybe tomorrow.
10.) Call mom Maybe tomorrow….
Bonus ~ call for a hair appointment.

Was today successful? I’m not sure. I added things to the list and other things took more time that I thought. I gave myself a hair treatment and my face a mud mask (the house smells like vinegar now). I prepared a brine for tomorrow’s pork. I got the ingredients for the chocolate banana cake together. Dinner was a juggling African number from Tyler Florence. Homemade spice rub (dry), homemade green olive sauce, apricot couscous salad, garlic, lemon, herb chicken….yummy. Tons of ingredients. Time consuming. I did a load of hand washables. Sweaters drive me nuts to dry. Judging Amy got me for one episode. And I bought cottage cheese.

Is There a Nutmeg in the House?

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David, Elizabeth. Is There a Nutmeg in the House; Essays on Practical Cooking with More Than 150 Recipes. New York: Viking, 2001.Nutmeg

Elizabeth David writes with humor. She also writes about cooking. My kind of book. Sorta. In the rules of the Book Lust Challenge, I said that I wouldn’t read cookbooks from start to finish. I would read the intros and “skip” the recipes. I didn’t want to try every recipe; didn’t want to be David’s version of a Julia Child fanatic. Here’s the issue I have with Nutmeg. Essays run seamlessly into recipes and commentaries. I end up reading about how to make mayonnaise (my archenemy) step by step.
Nevertheless, I have learned interesting things such as:
          *the potato is an aphrodisiac, capable of advancing a man’s “withered state” (p. 73). I kid you not.
          *Nutmeg is underrated and people should carry graters with them to utilize this spice more often (p. 93). 
          *David hates garlic presses as much as I do (p.51). 
Probably one of the best things I’ve learned from reading David’s Nutmeg isn’t really a lesson. It’s more of an affirmation – to “not to despair over rice” (p.139). While I don’t despair over any kind of rice per se thanks to Alton Brown and a whole episode dedicated to the grain, David’s words ring true with me on a deeper level, “Every amateur cook, however gifted and diligent, has some weak spot, some gap in her knowledge or experience which to anyone critical of her own achievements can be annoying and humiliating.” This statement even knocks the great ones down a notch. Ever seen Bobby lose a throw down? You get what I’m talking about.

BookLust Twist: Nancy Pearl adds this to her “Food for Thought” chapter in Book Lust (p.91) and goes on to say, “…Elizabeth David not only shares her love of food and cooking  but writes so evocatively that you can smell and taste the ingredients and dishes as she describes them.”

Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking

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Hazan, Marcella. Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking. New York: Knopf, 1992.Essentials

I’ll admit it, I’ve never been big on expensive, take my whole paycheck cooking. While I love the authoritativeness of Hazan’s cookbook, I’m not turned on by the all-or-nothing dramatics. Take balsamic vinegar – it’s the champagne of Modena. Hazan says it’s “never inexpensive” and only sold in “perfume bottle” sized containers (p. 11). The attitude is absolutely nothing else will do. Modena or bust. Maybe so. I realize that champagne that comes from anywhere other than Champagne, France is a sparkling wine, but we still toast with the fraud and call it champagne. Same with balsamic vinegar. What we have in our pantry may not be the authentic born and raised Modena babe, but we still use it and we call it balsamic. It will do.
Aside from thinking I don’t have the right balsamic in my pantry, I loved reading through Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking. I enjoyed learning the classic names of techniques (battuto, soffritto & insaporire); I appreciated the education on pasta (it makes me want to make my own from scratch); I liked the conversational tone Hazan used throughout the entire book. The illustrations are beautiful and informative. My all-time favorite chapter is called, “At Table: the Italian Art of Eating” (p 649). It includes menus for elegant, classic, holiday, and rustic meals – just to name a few.

Book Lust Twist: From More Book Lust, Pearl says, “A whole category could be devoted to good books on Italian cooking, but the one you must read (and drool over, while thinking ahead to great meals) is Marcella Hazan’s Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking” (Book Lust, p.49). I think I’ll agree more when I get a bigger paycheck!

Top Not Chef, Definitely Loser

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I would like to think I’m not one to brag about my cooking. You shouldn’t catch me saying something about making the best anything. If I have, I probably couldn’t stop eating whatever it was and maybe, probably, I was riding high on the ego of me, myself and I.
What I am is having fun. My Knight presented me with The Biggest Loser Cookbook (Alexander, Devin. Rodale, 2006) for Christmas and I can’t stop cooking from it. Since December I have made,
For breakfast:

  • Boston-Cream-Peanut-Butter Breakfast Banana Split (best breakfast so far)
  • Warm Pumpkin Pie Cream of Wheat (a little on the weird side)
  • Better Blueberry Pancakes (with Maine blueberries!)
  • Energizing Bacon & Egg Breakfast Burrito (I’ve made this a thousand times before the cookbook)

For Snacks:Cookbook

  • Thin & Crispy BBQ Chicken Pizza Snack Wedges
  • Gourmet Roast Beef Rollups
  • Erik’s Veggie Tuna Snack Wraps

For Lunch:

  • Almost Fast Food Burger
  • Creole Turkey Burger
  • Sexy Joes (as opposed to “sloppy”)
  • Chicken Cheese-Steak Wrap
  • BBQ Pork Sandwiches
  • Pork & Black Bean Verde Stew (kicked up)
  • Thai Ground-Chicken Salad

For Sides:

  • Dana’s Spinach & Feta Brown Rice
  • Melinda’s Holiday Spinach
  • Strength Builder’s Stuffed Mushrooms (really, really good)
  • Thai Ground-Chicken Salad (made with ground turkey -still excellent)

For Dinner:

  • Spicy Meatballs with Fiery Chili Sauce (not diablo enough for me)
  • New-Fashioned Meat Loaf (I’m a BBQ freak so I’d rather use that than ketchup but we stayed true to the recipe)
  • Rosemary Grilled London Broil
  • Sweet & Spicy Pork Tenderloin
  • Competitor’s Chicken Curry
  • New Orleans Rubbed Chicken with Apricot-Mustard Sauce (loved, loved, loved this!)
  • Lori’s Lean Lemon Chicken (excellent)
  • Southwestern Chicken Pileup
  • Heather’s Mexican Rollup
  • Muscling Up Meatballs (with includes a recipe for pasta and one for sauce)

For Dessert:

  • White Chocolate Strawberry Pie-lets
  • Lisa’s Frozen Gramwiches
  • Peanut Butter Oatmeal Cookies

Here’s the thing. Every recipe is fantastic. I have enjoyed making every single one. My biggest loser complaint? The so-called spicy meals don’t have enough heat. Okay, okay. Not everyone pours the Tabasco on almost everything they eat. Not everyone wants the chipotles in adobo sauce swimming in their stew…but I do. I like it hot, hot, hot.

This morning I made the blueberry pancakes (again). This time I warmed the maple syrup with allspice and cinnamon. I wanted to kick it with cayenne but…