Quick Ricotta Dumplings in Tomato Broth
2 months ago
Saturday, May 22, 2010
Day 22: Bread Fail
I'm not sure what happened - I made whole wheat bread from the exact same recipe I've been using for the past three weeks, just like I always do. The only difference was adding a couple of teaspoons of herbs (when the machine told me to!). But where the last few loaves have come out fluffy and golden brown, this one is kind of flat and gummy. No bread for me tomorrow.
Day 21 continued: Breakfast For Dinner.
Pancake round #1: chocolate chip.
Pancake round #2: banana chocolate chip.
Pancake round #3: Sriracha banana chocolate chip.
I swear I'm sober.
Pancake round #2: banana chocolate chip.
Pancake round #3: Sriracha banana chocolate chip.
I swear I'm sober.
Friday, May 21, 2010
Day 21: Breakfast for Dinner. Breakfast for Always.
It's been one of those days. I'm having pancakes for dinner. They are very, very necessary. And I might have another beer - though I didn't really have much of a first one, since I spilled most of it aaaaalllll over my living room floor.
Like I said - one of those days.
Like I said - one of those days.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Day 18: Too Much Cookin', Not Enough Bloggin'
Whew! The past few days have been biz-zay. On Saturday, Dara and I threw a very excellent (if I do say so myself) barbecue, complete with beautiful weather, pleasantly drunk people, and lots of good food and fun. I learned how to make baked beans. I also learned...
I had to work hard to chop the carrots, onions, and celery:
Seriously, do you own a food processor yet? No? Go get one. Go now. I don't care if it's midnight; Amazon is open 24 hours a day. Never mind the fact that it can chop anything and everything in mere seconds - you can make cookie dough in this thing!
So yeah. "I" chopped all the veggies. Then I checked the recipe, and my documentarian went to the fridge for a beverage:
How is it that we threw a party and ended up with more beer than when we started? We need less generous (or harder-drinking) friends.
Where was I? Oh yeah. I started sauteing the veggies, then, after a few minutes, added the lentils and a cup of wine:
After that, the lentils cooked slowly, sort of like risotto - a ladleful of liquid at a time. It was fairly slow going, since lentils, like beans, take a long time to absorb liquid and come to the right texure. In the end, we had a nice, tasty dish; the taste of the wine made it particularly rich. Dara ate hers with sauteed spinach, and I had mine over raw spinach with some feta mixed in:
And everyone was happy:
- that beans take a loooong time to cook.
- that they're worth the wait.
- that, if you think starting with two POUNDS of dried beans is excessive, you're probably right.
- that people really like baked beans.
- that I actually like baked beans more than I thought!
I had to work hard to chop the carrots, onions, and celery:
Seriously, do you own a food processor yet? No? Go get one. Go now. I don't care if it's midnight; Amazon is open 24 hours a day. Never mind the fact that it can chop anything and everything in mere seconds - you can make cookie dough in this thing!
So yeah. "I" chopped all the veggies. Then I checked the recipe, and my documentarian went to the fridge for a beverage:
How is it that we threw a party and ended up with more beer than when we started? We need less generous (or harder-drinking) friends.
Where was I? Oh yeah. I started sauteing the veggies, then, after a few minutes, added the lentils and a cup of wine:
After that, the lentils cooked slowly, sort of like risotto - a ladleful of liquid at a time. It was fairly slow going, since lentils, like beans, take a long time to absorb liquid and come to the right texure. In the end, we had a nice, tasty dish; the taste of the wine made it particularly rich. Dara ate hers with sauteed spinach, and I had mine over raw spinach with some feta mixed in:
And everyone was happy:
Saturday, May 15, 2010
Day 15: A Preview
Things I made yesterday: bread, sauteed scallops with a lemon glaze.
Things I have to make today: mayonnaise, cupcakes, baked beans, hot fudge pudding cake, an updated blog post. I'm on it, I swear.
Things I have to make today: mayonnaise, cupcakes, baked beans, hot fudge pudding cake, an updated blog post. I'm on it, I swear.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Day 13: Vegetable Lust
I had a total zucchini hankering all day.
I know, I know. Let me wait for the snickering to die down. I didn't really care what I ate for dinner, as long as it involved zucchini. Luckily, there was one still lurking in our most recent box of produce, and Dara very willingly let me take it. I chopped it up, and tossed it into a hot pan with some diced onion; after several minutes of sauteeing, I adding two beaten eggs and scrambled the whole mess up. With a little goat cheese crumbled on top, I had warm eggy veggie goodness (which I inhaled so fast I forgot to take a picture).
Last week, I found myself worrying a lot about what I'd be eating for each of my meals; I felt like I had to do a lot of thinking and planning. The past few days, though, have felt easier - I've thought a little about what I want to eat, and then cooked it. And while none of it has been anything fancy, it has been filling, nutritious, and good, which is generally what I look for in a meal.
However, I do have to do a better job about eating meals out. On Tuesday, I spent the workday in the field with one of my colleagues, which meant we ate lunch at a (shockingly good) Indian buffet in Rancho Cucamonga. (Seriously, the 909! I'm a snob.) Last night I found out about a viewing party of "Top Chef Masters" at Border Grill, so we trucked over there for mojitos and tacos. Today was Mexican food at lunch for a friend's birthday. I've definitely stuck to my rule about fast food, but for both my wallet and my project, next week has to see a reduction in food that other people cook.
I know, I know. Let me wait for the snickering to die down. I didn't really care what I ate for dinner, as long as it involved zucchini. Luckily, there was one still lurking in our most recent box of produce, and Dara very willingly let me take it. I chopped it up, and tossed it into a hot pan with some diced onion; after several minutes of sauteeing, I adding two beaten eggs and scrambled the whole mess up. With a little goat cheese crumbled on top, I had warm eggy veggie goodness (which I inhaled so fast I forgot to take a picture).
Last week, I found myself worrying a lot about what I'd be eating for each of my meals; I felt like I had to do a lot of thinking and planning. The past few days, though, have felt easier - I've thought a little about what I want to eat, and then cooked it. And while none of it has been anything fancy, it has been filling, nutritious, and good, which is generally what I look for in a meal.
However, I do have to do a better job about eating meals out. On Tuesday, I spent the workday in the field with one of my colleagues, which meant we ate lunch at a (shockingly good) Indian buffet in Rancho Cucamonga. (Seriously, the 909! I'm a snob.) Last night I found out about a viewing party of "Top Chef Masters" at Border Grill, so we trucked over there for mojitos and tacos. Today was Mexican food at lunch for a friend's birthday. I've definitely stuck to my rule about fast food, but for both my wallet and my project, next week has to see a reduction in food that other people cook.
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Day 12: Cooking at night
This is what it's come to - it's 9:45 at night, and I'm roasting chicken. What else am I going to eat for lunch tomorrow?
Herb-Roasted Chicken (from How to Cook Everything)
Chicken pieces (I'm using two chicken thighs)
Salt and pepper
Olive oil or butter
Minced herbs - parsley, basil, thyme, whatever you want
1. Heat the oven to 450 degrees.
2. When the oven is hot, put a tablespoon or so of butter or oil in a roasting pan; put it in the oven for about a minute, or until the butter melts or the oil is hot.
3. Mix the minced herbs with the remaining oil or butter (you want a spreadable or drizzlable consistency).
4. Salt and pepper the chicken; place it in the hot pan, skin side up, and cook for ten minutes.
5. After the ten minutes have passed, spread part of the herb mixture on the skin side of the chicken; turn it over, and spread more of the herb mixture. Cook for ten minutes, skin side down.
6. Turn the chicken over again; spread the remaining herb mixture on the skin side of the chicken. Cook until juices run clear from a small cut in the chicken, a total of 30-40 minutes.
Herb-Roasted Chicken (from How to Cook Everything)
Chicken pieces (I'm using two chicken thighs)
Salt and pepper
Olive oil or butter
Minced herbs - parsley, basil, thyme, whatever you want
1. Heat the oven to 450 degrees.
2. When the oven is hot, put a tablespoon or so of butter or oil in a roasting pan; put it in the oven for about a minute, or until the butter melts or the oil is hot.
3. Mix the minced herbs with the remaining oil or butter (you want a spreadable or drizzlable consistency).
4. Salt and pepper the chicken; place it in the hot pan, skin side up, and cook for ten minutes.
5. After the ten minutes have passed, spread part of the herb mixture on the skin side of the chicken; turn it over, and spread more of the herb mixture. Cook for ten minutes, skin side down.
6. Turn the chicken over again; spread the remaining herb mixture on the skin side of the chicken. Cook until juices run clear from a small cut in the chicken, a total of 30-40 minutes.
Monday, May 10, 2010
Day 10: I'm Not a Vegetarian...
...but I apparently eat like one when I cook at home.
There have been periods in my life where I have wanted nothing but meat. When I (finally) grew, for example, in high school, all I wanted was steak and milk. It was awesome. There have been other phases, though, where, no matter how good I know it is, meat smells and tastes rotten. These times are also awesome (I do love me some tofu!), even though they involve less bacon.
Either way, though, I've never been inclined to actually cook that much meat. I'm pretty sure that I've never made red meat in this house, and we've lived here since September. It doesn't feel like anything is lacking - I just don't look at a steak in the grocery store and think, "You know, that's gonna be dinner tonight." And I realized today that much of MIMM, perhaps even more than my normal cooking, has been vegetarian. Today, in fact, was 100% so: toast and a banana for breakfast, leftover saag tofu and rice for lunch, and broiled polenta with roasted red pepper sauce and goat cheese and a little steamed broccoli on the side for dinner. It sounds fancy, but it's really easy to make, yields a ton of leftovers, and is really delicious:
Maybe I'll mix it up and go for an all-meat week four, but then again...maybe not.
Broiled Polenta with Roasted Red Pepper Sauce
Polenta
1 1/4 cups cornmeal
3 1/2 cups water
1 tsp. salt
1. Mix the cornmeal and one cup of the water in a bowl; set aside.
2. Combine the salt and remaining water in a pot; bring to a boil.
3. Add the cornmeal mixture slowly (watch out for splashing), stirring constantly. Allow it to return to a boil, then turn the heat to low and continue to stir for five straight minutes. It's going to hurt - the polenta will thicken considerably. You didn't need to go to the gym today.
4. After five minutes, remove the polenta from the heat. Spread it in a lightly greased 9x13 pan; smoothe to the edges. Put the pan in the fridge to cool. While it's cooling, make the...
Sauce
1 red bell pepper
1/2 an onion, coarsely chopped
4 cloves of garlic, coarsely chopped
3 basil leaves
Salt
Pepper
Olive oil
Goat cheese (optional)
1. With a long fork (or something else to hold the pepper - I stabbed it through the bottom with a pair of scissors), roast the red pepper by holding it directly over the stove burner. Turn consistently, as if you are roasting a s'more; the skin should pop, blister, and blacken. Try to blacken as much of the skin as possible.
2. Put the roasted pepper in a bowl and cover the top with plastic wrap; you want to trap the heat and moisture.
3. When the pepper is cool enough to handle - about 30 minutes - rub off the blackened skin. It should come off easily; running the pepper under cool water can help.
4. Position an oven rack as close to the top of the oven as possible; turn on the broiler. This is important for a little while from now.
5. Saute the onions and garlic in olive oil until soft.
6. Combine the pepper, onions, garlic, basil, salt and pepper to taste, and a splash of olive oil in a food processor or blender. Blend until the sauce reaches your desired consistency; add a little more olive oil or a tablespoon of water at a time if you like.
7. By now, the polenta should be cooled and solid. Cut it into small squares or diamonds and transfer to a cookie sheet; brush the top with a little olive oil. Broil for seven to ten minutes, or until the top has developed a golden brown crust.
8. If necessary, reheat the sauce; serve with the polenta and a few crumbles of goat cheese, if desired. It's pretty tasty without, but nearing sublime with.
Note: Dara gives this dish two thumbs up!
There have been periods in my life where I have wanted nothing but meat. When I (finally) grew, for example, in high school, all I wanted was steak and milk. It was awesome. There have been other phases, though, where, no matter how good I know it is, meat smells and tastes rotten. These times are also awesome (I do love me some tofu!), even though they involve less bacon.
Either way, though, I've never been inclined to actually cook that much meat. I'm pretty sure that I've never made red meat in this house, and we've lived here since September. It doesn't feel like anything is lacking - I just don't look at a steak in the grocery store and think, "You know, that's gonna be dinner tonight." And I realized today that much of MIMM, perhaps even more than my normal cooking, has been vegetarian. Today, in fact, was 100% so: toast and a banana for breakfast, leftover saag tofu and rice for lunch, and broiled polenta with roasted red pepper sauce and goat cheese and a little steamed broccoli on the side for dinner. It sounds fancy, but it's really easy to make, yields a ton of leftovers, and is really delicious:
Maybe I'll mix it up and go for an all-meat week four, but then again...maybe not.
Broiled Polenta with Roasted Red Pepper Sauce
Polenta
1 1/4 cups cornmeal
3 1/2 cups water
1 tsp. salt
1. Mix the cornmeal and one cup of the water in a bowl; set aside.
2. Combine the salt and remaining water in a pot; bring to a boil.
3. Add the cornmeal mixture slowly (watch out for splashing), stirring constantly. Allow it to return to a boil, then turn the heat to low and continue to stir for five straight minutes. It's going to hurt - the polenta will thicken considerably. You didn't need to go to the gym today.
4. After five minutes, remove the polenta from the heat. Spread it in a lightly greased 9x13 pan; smoothe to the edges. Put the pan in the fridge to cool. While it's cooling, make the...
Sauce
1 red bell pepper
1/2 an onion, coarsely chopped
4 cloves of garlic, coarsely chopped
3 basil leaves
Salt
Pepper
Olive oil
Goat cheese (optional)
1. With a long fork (or something else to hold the pepper - I stabbed it through the bottom with a pair of scissors), roast the red pepper by holding it directly over the stove burner. Turn consistently, as if you are roasting a s'more; the skin should pop, blister, and blacken. Try to blacken as much of the skin as possible.
2. Put the roasted pepper in a bowl and cover the top with plastic wrap; you want to trap the heat and moisture.
3. When the pepper is cool enough to handle - about 30 minutes - rub off the blackened skin. It should come off easily; running the pepper under cool water can help.
4. Position an oven rack as close to the top of the oven as possible; turn on the broiler. This is important for a little while from now.
5. Saute the onions and garlic in olive oil until soft.
6. Combine the pepper, onions, garlic, basil, salt and pepper to taste, and a splash of olive oil in a food processor or blender. Blend until the sauce reaches your desired consistency; add a little more olive oil or a tablespoon of water at a time if you like.
7. By now, the polenta should be cooled and solid. Cut it into small squares or diamonds and transfer to a cookie sheet; brush the top with a little olive oil. Broil for seven to ten minutes, or until the top has developed a golden brown crust.
8. If necessary, reheat the sauce; serve with the polenta and a few crumbles of goat cheese, if desired. It's pretty tasty without, but nearing sublime with.
Note: Dara gives this dish two thumbs up!
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Day 9: Happy Cupcake Day!
Last night, as I was waiting for my soy milk to coagulate (not a sentence I ever thought I'd type), I called my mom to update her on my progress. After a couple of minutes, she asked a fairly worrisome question:
"Are you making cupcakes?"
Maybe she hadn't understood what I was talking about.
"No, Mom," I replied, "I'm making tofu. TOFU."
"Right," she said. "I got it. But what about cupcakes? For tomorrow? You could bring me cupcakes for Mother's Day. Or...no, never mind. You're doing a lot. Don't worry about me. I'll be fine.
"But...cupcakes would be good."
So I did what any crazy person would do - around 11:00 last night, I made a batch of chocolate cupcakes. I left them unfrosted until today; I spent Mother's Day at my parents' house, where I made chocolate-orange buttercream and was able to share these with my mom:
They made for one happy mama.
Chocolate-Orange Buttercream Frosting
6 ounces butter, softened
3/4 cup cocoa powder (plus a little extra as needed)
2 2/3 cup powdered sugar (plus a little extra as needed)
1/3 cup milk
1 tbs. vanilla
2 1/2 tbs. fresh-squeezed orange juice
2 tsp. orange zest
A splash of blood orange bitters
1. Cream the butter.
2. Add the cocoa powder and powdered sugar; mix while slowly adding the milk. Continue to mix until all of the ingredients have been integrated and the mixture is of a spreadable consistency.
3. Add the remaining ingredients; mix well. If the frosting is too thin, add a little more cocoa powder and/or powdered sugar - a teaspoon or so at a time until you've reached your desired consistency.
4. Spread on cupcakes, or cake, or toast, or your fingers. Enjoy. Makes about two cups of frosting - enough to liberally frost a dozen cupcakes and have a bunch left over.
"Are you making cupcakes?"
Maybe she hadn't understood what I was talking about.
"No, Mom," I replied, "I'm making tofu. TOFU."
"Right," she said. "I got it. But what about cupcakes? For tomorrow? You could bring me cupcakes for Mother's Day. Or...no, never mind. You're doing a lot. Don't worry about me. I'll be fine.
"But...cupcakes would be good."
So I did what any crazy person would do - around 11:00 last night, I made a batch of chocolate cupcakes. I left them unfrosted until today; I spent Mother's Day at my parents' house, where I made chocolate-orange buttercream and was able to share these with my mom:
They made for one happy mama.
Chocolate-Orange Buttercream Frosting
6 ounces butter, softened
3/4 cup cocoa powder (plus a little extra as needed)
2 2/3 cup powdered sugar (plus a little extra as needed)
1/3 cup milk
1 tbs. vanilla
2 1/2 tbs. fresh-squeezed orange juice
2 tsp. orange zest
A splash of blood orange bitters
1. Cream the butter.
2. Add the cocoa powder and powdered sugar; mix while slowly adding the milk. Continue to mix until all of the ingredients have been integrated and the mixture is of a spreadable consistency.
3. Add the remaining ingredients; mix well. If the frosting is too thin, add a little more cocoa powder and/or powdered sugar - a teaspoon or so at a time until you've reached your desired consistency.
4. Spread on cupcakes, or cake, or toast, or your fingers. Enjoy. Makes about two cups of frosting - enough to liberally frost a dozen cupcakes and have a bunch left over.
Day 8: In Which I Make All the Food
Before I started this project, I had what could only be kindly described as a vague understanding of how tofu is made. It pretty much went something like this:
The one thing I didn't have, though, was the coagulant. While the recipe claims I could use lemon juice or vinegar, I wanted to do this right, so I decided to hunt down nigari - it's a natural coagulant, magnesium chloride, extracted from sea water. Sounds fancy, right? Sounds hard to find, no? No. It was lurking in the Japan aisle of the biggest Whole Foods in the world. One stop after work, and I was ready to go.
So yesterday started with soaking some beans:
Dried soybeans are little, round, and yellow. Over the course of the day, they gradually softened and expanded, eventually taking the edamame-shape I'm more used to:
They were also ridiculously good to eat raw. It sounds weird, but they were sweet and kinda nutty (and I JUST REALIZED they would be super good roasted (so much so that when I finish writing this I'm totally going to go soak some overnight so that I can make them into a snack tomorrow!)). When they had fully expanded, I transferred them, little by little, into my brave little food processor, and ground them "until fine", per the recipe's instructions. I wasn't really sure what this meant; what I ended up with was something resembling soybean slurry:
Please note the artistic kitchen lighting.
So essentially, at this point, I had a lot of liquid and a fair amount of finely ground solid - about the consistency of grits. That all went into a pot of boiling water; I stirred and stirred and stirred, then lowered the heat and stirred some more. When it had cooked for the requisite eight minutes, I realized that I was all alone, and about to pour a massive pot of near-boiling soy...stuff into a colander that looked like it was dressed as the Bride of Frankenstein. The potential for disaster was high.
But I poured verrrrry carefully, and then couldn't take any more pictures for a few minutes because I was squeezing the life out of the solids in the cheesecloth. Thank God for silicone hot pads; I was able to wrap one around the outside of the cloth sack and force out all of the liquid I could. And I have to admit - when I lifted up the colander and looked in the bowl, I felt a little bit like an alchemist. Okay, I hadn't turned pewter into gold, but I had turned a whole mess of dried soybeans into legitimate soy milk, and it was damn good. I swear I'm not just saying that because I made it - it was sweet and rich and way better than the stuff that comes in a carton.
I also had a cheesecloth full of okara, the leftover solids. My understanding is that you can cook and eat this; if you find that that's the case, please let me know. I took a picture, realized that it smelled like warm, roasting tofu, and then threw it away.
Not gonna lie: by that point, I felt like I should have been done. But no. Back into the pot went all the soy milk; I heated it slowly, stirring constantly, until it reached 155 degrees. As soon as it did, I took it off the heat. I added half of my water/nigari mixture, stirred vigorously, and let it come to rest; I added the rest of the mixture, stirred more gently, and watched pretty much in amazement as the mixture began to thicken. It didn't look like anything in a picture. Envision, though, curdling milk, and you have the basic idea.
I covered the pot and let it sit for 15 minutes, then came back to ladle the whole mess into another gauzy colander. I folded the cheesecloth over, weighted the top with a couple of pounds of canned goods, and then went away - if I'd stayed in the room, I would have been too tempted to peek.
Five minutes passed. Ten. Fifteen. I tiptoed back into the room, almost too nervous to look. What if it had failed? What if I had spent the better part of an afternoon immersed in the world of the soybean only to end up with a gloopy, bitter mess? I took off the weights, unfolded the cheesecloth, and -
HOLY CRAP. I MADE TOFU.
Did I squeal a little bit with glee and maybe dance around my kitchen? Yes, obviously, and then I immediately transferred everything to a bowl of cold water and let it soak for a little while longer. This time, I couldn't resist the urge to poke and prod - while the center was a little bit softer than what I'm used to, the edges were totally firm. And it tasted absolutely amazing; it was way creamier than store-bought tofu, with a slightly sour (but in a good way) tinge. Mostly, it tasted like warm soy milk smells. I know that doesn't sound appetizing, but trust me - it was all I could do to keep from eating all of it while standing beside my kitchen sink.
So then it was 7:00. I had a cheesecloth full of tofu and an empty belly. Luckily, I also had the makings for saag tofu. I chopped and sauteed half an onion, three cloves of garlic, and two seeded jalapenos in a splash of vegetable oil; after a few minutes, when the onion had softened, I added a couple teaspoons each of ginger, curry powder, and cumin. (As a warning, those proportions lead to a fairly spicy dish; when I make it again, I'll reduce the amount of cumin significantly.) After a minute or so of sauteeing, I added ten ounces of spinach, and gently folded it into the other ingredients into it while trying not to lose any leaves out the side of my pan. While spinach starts out huge, as it cooks, it loses volume; after a few minutes, I had a couple cups of dark green spicy goodness. That all went into the food processor along with a dollop - probably around 1/4 cup - of plain yogurt; a couple of pulses chopped it down and mixed in the yogurt nicely.
In the meantime, I broke up the tofu into bite-sized pieces, and carefully - CAREFULLY - transferred it to the pan with a little more oil, letting it cook until it was nice and brown on both sides. (As it turns out, I didn't need to be so gingerly, but after all of that, I didn't want to lose anything.)
Delicious! The final step was evening out the flavors in the saag itself. The spices were a little strong, so I added a couple teaspoons of sugar, which made everything perfect; I mixed the whole mess back in with the tofu, put some in a bowl over basmati rice, popped open a beer, and finally had dinner.
Super tasty - and, luckily, there's leftovers.
So there it is. Now I know. Was it ridiculous? Yes. Am I glad I did it? Absolutely. Will I ever again make my own tofu from scratch after May is over? Not even a chance.
Oh, and I also made bread and cupcakes. I told you it was the day of all the food.
- Get soybeans.
- Do something to them. (Mash them, maybe? Boil then mash them?)
- Let them solidify.
- Eat, because now you have tofu!
The one thing I didn't have, though, was the coagulant. While the recipe claims I could use lemon juice or vinegar, I wanted to do this right, so I decided to hunt down nigari - it's a natural coagulant, magnesium chloride, extracted from sea water. Sounds fancy, right? Sounds hard to find, no? No. It was lurking in the Japan aisle of the biggest Whole Foods in the world. One stop after work, and I was ready to go.
So yesterday started with soaking some beans:
Dried soybeans are little, round, and yellow. Over the course of the day, they gradually softened and expanded, eventually taking the edamame-shape I'm more used to:
They were also ridiculously good to eat raw. It sounds weird, but they were sweet and kinda nutty (and I JUST REALIZED they would be super good roasted (so much so that when I finish writing this I'm totally going to go soak some overnight so that I can make them into a snack tomorrow!)). When they had fully expanded, I transferred them, little by little, into my brave little food processor, and ground them "until fine", per the recipe's instructions. I wasn't really sure what this meant; what I ended up with was something resembling soybean slurry:
Please note the artistic kitchen lighting.
So essentially, at this point, I had a lot of liquid and a fair amount of finely ground solid - about the consistency of grits. That all went into a pot of boiling water; I stirred and stirred and stirred, then lowered the heat and stirred some more. When it had cooked for the requisite eight minutes, I realized that I was all alone, and about to pour a massive pot of near-boiling soy...stuff into a colander that looked like it was dressed as the Bride of Frankenstein. The potential for disaster was high.
But I poured verrrrry carefully, and then couldn't take any more pictures for a few minutes because I was squeezing the life out of the solids in the cheesecloth. Thank God for silicone hot pads; I was able to wrap one around the outside of the cloth sack and force out all of the liquid I could. And I have to admit - when I lifted up the colander and looked in the bowl, I felt a little bit like an alchemist. Okay, I hadn't turned pewter into gold, but I had turned a whole mess of dried soybeans into legitimate soy milk, and it was damn good. I swear I'm not just saying that because I made it - it was sweet and rich and way better than the stuff that comes in a carton.
I also had a cheesecloth full of okara, the leftover solids. My understanding is that you can cook and eat this; if you find that that's the case, please let me know. I took a picture, realized that it smelled like warm, roasting tofu, and then threw it away.
Not gonna lie: by that point, I felt like I should have been done. But no. Back into the pot went all the soy milk; I heated it slowly, stirring constantly, until it reached 155 degrees. As soon as it did, I took it off the heat. I added half of my water/nigari mixture, stirred vigorously, and let it come to rest; I added the rest of the mixture, stirred more gently, and watched pretty much in amazement as the mixture began to thicken. It didn't look like anything in a picture. Envision, though, curdling milk, and you have the basic idea.
I covered the pot and let it sit for 15 minutes, then came back to ladle the whole mess into another gauzy colander. I folded the cheesecloth over, weighted the top with a couple of pounds of canned goods, and then went away - if I'd stayed in the room, I would have been too tempted to peek.
Five minutes passed. Ten. Fifteen. I tiptoed back into the room, almost too nervous to look. What if it had failed? What if I had spent the better part of an afternoon immersed in the world of the soybean only to end up with a gloopy, bitter mess? I took off the weights, unfolded the cheesecloth, and -
HOLY CRAP. I MADE TOFU.
Did I squeal a little bit with glee and maybe dance around my kitchen? Yes, obviously, and then I immediately transferred everything to a bowl of cold water and let it soak for a little while longer. This time, I couldn't resist the urge to poke and prod - while the center was a little bit softer than what I'm used to, the edges were totally firm. And it tasted absolutely amazing; it was way creamier than store-bought tofu, with a slightly sour (but in a good way) tinge. Mostly, it tasted like warm soy milk smells. I know that doesn't sound appetizing, but trust me - it was all I could do to keep from eating all of it while standing beside my kitchen sink.
So then it was 7:00. I had a cheesecloth full of tofu and an empty belly. Luckily, I also had the makings for saag tofu. I chopped and sauteed half an onion, three cloves of garlic, and two seeded jalapenos in a splash of vegetable oil; after a few minutes, when the onion had softened, I added a couple teaspoons each of ginger, curry powder, and cumin. (As a warning, those proportions lead to a fairly spicy dish; when I make it again, I'll reduce the amount of cumin significantly.) After a minute or so of sauteeing, I added ten ounces of spinach, and gently folded it into the other ingredients into it while trying not to lose any leaves out the side of my pan. While spinach starts out huge, as it cooks, it loses volume; after a few minutes, I had a couple cups of dark green spicy goodness. That all went into the food processor along with a dollop - probably around 1/4 cup - of plain yogurt; a couple of pulses chopped it down and mixed in the yogurt nicely.
In the meantime, I broke up the tofu into bite-sized pieces, and carefully - CAREFULLY - transferred it to the pan with a little more oil, letting it cook until it was nice and brown on both sides. (As it turns out, I didn't need to be so gingerly, but after all of that, I didn't want to lose anything.)
Delicious! The final step was evening out the flavors in the saag itself. The spices were a little strong, so I added a couple teaspoons of sugar, which made everything perfect; I mixed the whole mess back in with the tofu, put some in a bowl over basmati rice, popped open a beer, and finally had dinner.
Super tasty - and, luckily, there's leftovers.
So there it is. Now I know. Was it ridiculous? Yes. Am I glad I did it? Absolutely. Will I ever again make my own tofu from scratch after May is over? Not even a chance.
Oh, and I also made bread and cupcakes. I told you it was the day of all the food.
Friday, May 7, 2010
Day 7: Blugh
Seriously, Quaker Oats? You consider this swimming pool-sized amount of oatmeal to be a single serving? I feel like I'm drowning.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Day 5: Cinco de MIMM
I failed at making anything for myself today. I took a couple of my instructors to lunch, and while I had the best intentions of coming home and creating something along the lines of chana masala with the garbanzo beans I started soaking last night, I ended up at El Cholo with my coworkers where I had one of these:
And what goes well with coconut margaritas? Guacamole, of course, and chimichangas, and tamales. Look for garbanzos to feature prominently in tomorrow's lunch, because ain't nothing else in the house to eat!
And what goes well with coconut margaritas? Guacamole, of course, and chimichangas, and tamales. Look for garbanzos to feature prominently in tomorrow's lunch, because ain't nothing else in the house to eat!
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Day 4: Take Me Out to the Ballgame
Things I consumed tonight at Dodger Stadium:
AND it was fleece blanket night. The only thing that could have made it better was a Dodger win, but apparently that was just crazy talk tonight.
So what'd I make today, you ask? I had a super delicious chicken Caesar salad for lunch; real Caesar salad is one of my very favorite things, because it's lemony and garlicky and anchovy...y. A lot of people are turned off by making Caesar salad because the dressing includes a coddled egg. A coddled egg is one that's extremely lightly cooked; it's immersed in boiling water for 60-90 seconds, which means that it's still mostly goopy when you crack it open and add it to the dressing. If you're weirded out by this, well, don't be. If you're a healthy adult with a decent immune system, a kinda-cooked egg won't be bad for you at all, and it adds immeasurably to the dressing. If you still don't want to do it, you can make a perfectly tasty lemon-garlic-anchovy dressing, but it just won't be a true Caesar.
Caesar Salad (from How to Cook Everything)
1 clove garlic, cut in half
2 eggs
2 tablespoons fresh-squeezed lemon juice
6 tablespoons olive oil
2 tablespoons minced anchovies (or more, depending on your love for little salty fish)
Dash Worcestershire sauce (omitted for my recipe today)
Salt and pepper to taste
Croutons
1/2 to 1 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese
1 large head romaine lettuce, washed, dried, and torn into bits
1. Liberally rub the inside of your salad bowl with the cut sides of your clove of garlic, then discard it.
2. Bring a small pot of water to boil. Gently drop the eggs into the boiling water and cook for 60-90 seconds; they will just begin to firm up. Crack them into the salad bowl, making sure to scoop out all of the white that will want to cling to the inside of the shells.
3. Beat the eggs with a fork, gradually adding the lemon juice and olive oil, beating consistently.
4. Stir in the anchovies and Worcestershire; taste, then add salt and pepper to taste. Toss well with the lettuce; top with croutons and Parmesan, then toss again.
Note: I made the dressing in my blender, and it worked perfectly - plus, I didn't have to mince the anchovies.
- spicy tuna roll
- garlic fries
- Bud Light
- Red Vines
- hot chocolate
AND it was fleece blanket night. The only thing that could have made it better was a Dodger win, but apparently that was just crazy talk tonight.
So what'd I make today, you ask? I had a super delicious chicken Caesar salad for lunch; real Caesar salad is one of my very favorite things, because it's lemony and garlicky and anchovy...y. A lot of people are turned off by making Caesar salad because the dressing includes a coddled egg. A coddled egg is one that's extremely lightly cooked; it's immersed in boiling water for 60-90 seconds, which means that it's still mostly goopy when you crack it open and add it to the dressing. If you're weirded out by this, well, don't be. If you're a healthy adult with a decent immune system, a kinda-cooked egg won't be bad for you at all, and it adds immeasurably to the dressing. If you still don't want to do it, you can make a perfectly tasty lemon-garlic-anchovy dressing, but it just won't be a true Caesar.
Caesar Salad (from How to Cook Everything)
1 clove garlic, cut in half
2 eggs
2 tablespoons fresh-squeezed lemon juice
6 tablespoons olive oil
2 tablespoons minced anchovies (or more, depending on your love for little salty fish)
Dash Worcestershire sauce (omitted for my recipe today)
Salt and pepper to taste
Croutons
1/2 to 1 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese
1 large head romaine lettuce, washed, dried, and torn into bits
1. Liberally rub the inside of your salad bowl with the cut sides of your clove of garlic, then discard it.
2. Bring a small pot of water to boil. Gently drop the eggs into the boiling water and cook for 60-90 seconds; they will just begin to firm up. Crack them into the salad bowl, making sure to scoop out all of the white that will want to cling to the inside of the shells.
3. Beat the eggs with a fork, gradually adding the lemon juice and olive oil, beating consistently.
4. Stir in the anchovies and Worcestershire; taste, then add salt and pepper to taste. Toss well with the lettuce; top with croutons and Parmesan, then toss again.
Note: I made the dressing in my blender, and it worked perfectly - plus, I didn't have to mince the anchovies.
Day 3: Fail Meal
At least the day started well. There were chocolate chip pancakes (seriously, next time please remind me to halve that recipe) and tea for breakfast, and a really yummy salmon salad sandwich for lunch (with blackberries on the side!). And I'd thought all day about the dinner I'd started prepping last night, and how delicious it was going to be. Except it just wasn't. It was the opposite of delicious - not exactly what I'm looking for in a meal.
So dinner was supposed to be roast chicken with Spanish paprika and herb-roasted smashed potatoes. I used fresh thyme from my new little herb garden in back; I prepped the chicken last night, per the instructions; I used a whole bag of pretty little potatoes. It even looked pretty decent - all of the paprika that the chicken had been essentially marinating in for 24 hours made it nice and red, and the potatoes had lovely crinkly skins, and even though this picture is sideways it still looks pretty appetizing!
Unfortunately, what you can't see is that it tasted like a salt lick, and was virtually inedible. I took off the skin, which helped, and gingerly ate the insides of some of the potatoes, but still felt like I was wading through the Dead Sea with my mouth wide open. Plus, I somehow forgot that I had meant to steam an artichoke, and was so mad at this meal that I just decided to scrap the whole thing. The potatoes are gone. The now skinless chicken is sulking in the fridge; maybe if it's nice I'll turn it into a sandwich, but it's going to have to lose some of the attitude before I'll even consider it.
For the record, I know what I did wrong. The recipe calls for ten total pounds of chicken. "That's way too much for just one little me," I thought, "so I'll use four large thighs instead and still have some leftovers." While it was a good plan to scale down, I forgot to adjust the seasoning accordingly, which means I used about four times too much salt as I should have. My fault, then, not the recipe's.
I knew there was going to be a Fail Meal - I just didn't want it to be this one. And if I'm being honest, I'm sure there'll be several more before this month is through.
Salmon Salad
1 4-6 ounce salmon fillet
Olive oil
Salt
Pepper
Mayonnaise
Capers
Green Onions
Preheat the broiler. Drizzle the salmon with olive oil; add salt and pepper to taste. Transfer it to a foil-lined baking pan, skin side down; broil for 7-9 minutes, or until the salmon flakes and is no longer translucent in the middle. Watch the salmon closely; the fattiness of the fish and the oil can cause smoke, which can cause your overly sensitive smoke detector to go off, which can cause you, at 7:45 in the morning, to wave folded up newspaper furiously under the smoke detector (while wearing only a towel) in the hopes that you can get the damn thing to shut up. The towel is optional.
When the salmon is done; flake it into a bowl. When it's cool, add a dollop of mayonnaise, along with capers, green onions, or other mixings to taste. Mix well; this should have the consistency of tuna salad.
So dinner was supposed to be roast chicken with Spanish paprika and herb-roasted smashed potatoes. I used fresh thyme from my new little herb garden in back; I prepped the chicken last night, per the instructions; I used a whole bag of pretty little potatoes. It even looked pretty decent - all of the paprika that the chicken had been essentially marinating in for 24 hours made it nice and red, and the potatoes had lovely crinkly skins, and even though this picture is sideways it still looks pretty appetizing!
Unfortunately, what you can't see is that it tasted like a salt lick, and was virtually inedible. I took off the skin, which helped, and gingerly ate the insides of some of the potatoes, but still felt like I was wading through the Dead Sea with my mouth wide open. Plus, I somehow forgot that I had meant to steam an artichoke, and was so mad at this meal that I just decided to scrap the whole thing. The potatoes are gone. The now skinless chicken is sulking in the fridge; maybe if it's nice I'll turn it into a sandwich, but it's going to have to lose some of the attitude before I'll even consider it.
For the record, I know what I did wrong. The recipe calls for ten total pounds of chicken. "That's way too much for just one little me," I thought, "so I'll use four large thighs instead and still have some leftovers." While it was a good plan to scale down, I forgot to adjust the seasoning accordingly, which means I used about four times too much salt as I should have. My fault, then, not the recipe's.
I knew there was going to be a Fail Meal - I just didn't want it to be this one. And if I'm being honest, I'm sure there'll be several more before this month is through.
Salmon Salad
1 4-6 ounce salmon fillet
Olive oil
Salt
Pepper
Mayonnaise
Capers
Green Onions
Preheat the broiler. Drizzle the salmon with olive oil; add salt and pepper to taste. Transfer it to a foil-lined baking pan, skin side down; broil for 7-9 minutes, or until the salmon flakes and is no longer translucent in the middle. Watch the salmon closely; the fattiness of the fish and the oil can cause smoke, which can cause your overly sensitive smoke detector to go off, which can cause you, at 7:45 in the morning, to wave folded up newspaper furiously under the smoke detector (while wearing only a towel) in the hopes that you can get the damn thing to shut up. The towel is optional.
When the salmon is done; flake it into a bowl. When it's cool, add a dollop of mayonnaise, along with capers, green onions, or other mixings to taste. Mix well; this should have the consistency of tuna salad.
Monday, May 3, 2010
I knew it would happen eventually...
...but I didn't think it'd be so soon: I set off the smoke detector in my kitchen at 7:45 this morning.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Day 2: A Full Stomach is a Happy Stomach
When I lived in St. Louis, Sunday was always pancake day. I'd get up and cook breakfast for me and Katie; she'd then go off to church, and I'd clean up (and maybe go back to bed). A beautiful morning like today's was the perfect time for a batch of chocolate chip pancakes. I usually rely on Bisquik, since it just requires adding eggs and milk to pre-made dry mix, but Mark Bittman's pancake recipe calls for just a couple more ingredients and takesonly a minute longer to make. Into the Cuisinart, flour and eggs and milk and sugar and baking powder and salt!
Let's pause for a second so I can wax rhapsodic about the food processor. It might be the best present I've ever received; for a long time, it was the only major kitchen appliance I owned, which meant I made everything from cookie dough to pureed carrots with it. Since it mixes evenly, it's absolutely ideal for things like pancake batter, and since it's so quick, I was done making the batter by the time my pan was hot enough to cook.
So back to breakfast. My dirty little secret? I like pancakes raw, because the batter is usually way better than the final product. (Hush now, naysayers - you know that you love cookie dough. Same idea.) This recipe yields a nice, slightly sweet pancake; next time, I'll sour milk and give them more of a buttermilk taste. But with a handful of chocolate chips tossed in and just a couple minutes on each side, I had perfect, half-cooked pancakes, just the way I like 'em:
Do they look super-tasty? That's because they WERE. Also, I have about eighty pounds of pancake batter left, so I know what I'm having for breakfast tomorrow!
I might have gone back to sleep - briefly.
After driving to my office to pick up tutoring stuff I'd forgotten (awesome, self), I stopped at Whole Foods to pick up the components for the grand tofu-making experiment, and decided salmon would make a good lunch. I started rice as soon as I got home, and prepped the fillet with olive oil, salt, and pepper. It needed only about seven minutes under the broiler to be perfect; that over rice with a healthy squeeze of lemon made for a simple but satisfying lunch.
I might have fallen asleep one more time.
This afternoon and evening were devoted to prep. Dinner was out - I had made reservations ages ago for tonight at Eva, and went with three awesome friends from work. (Seriously, if you live in Los Angeles, make plans to go for their Sunday night dinner. The food is amazing, and there is all the wine you can drink. ALL OF IT.) Before I left, I started a loaf of sandwich bread in the bread machine, which meant I was greeted by the smell of fresh bread when I got back home tonight. In a few minutes, I'll go prep tomorrow night's dinner. But my biggest accomplishment of the evening was making mayonnaise.
Making mayonnaise from scratch is like magic. I've watched my dad do it for years, and it never ceases to amaze me - things are liquid, and then suddenly, seemingly instantaneously, it's a solid. Or...a jiggly solid. I laid out all my ingredients before I left, because everything has to be at room temperature, and held my breath as I sloooooowly added olive oil to the egg and acid and - voila! Beautiful, tart, slightly green (because of the oil, nothing else) mounds of mayonnaise are now chilling in my fridge, ready for tomorrow's sandwich.
So now it's off to prep tomorrow night's dinner, and then toddle off to bed. If a full stomach is a happy stomach, this has been a great day indeed.
Pancakes (from Mark Bittman's How to Cook Everything)
2 cups all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 or 2 eggs (I used one, and it was just fine)
1 1/2 to 2 cups milk (I used 1 3/4)
2 tablespoons melted and cooled butter (optional), plus unmelted butter for cooking, or oil (I didn't use butter, but I'm sure it would make things extra delicious)
1. Preheat a griddle or large skillet over medium-low heat while you make the batter.
2. Mix everything together. The recipe says that you should do dry ingredients first, then beat the eggs into the milk, then add the butter, and THEN add all of this to the dry ingredients. Nah. Put everything in the food processor, or a bowl and beat it with a whisk; don't worry if there are a few lumps.
3. If the batter is too thick for your liking, add more milk.
4. Pour batter into the hot pan. Usually, the first batch requires higher heat than subsequent batches. If desired, add chocolate chips, blueberries, slices of banana - or all three! Let each side cook for two to four minutes; flip when pancakes are cooked on the bottom, since they won't hold together until they're ready.
Mayonnaise (from How to Cook Everything)
1 egg or egg yolk
Dash cayenne
1/2 teaspoon dry mustard
Salt and pepper to taste
2 tablespoons fresh-squeezed lemon juice
1 cup extra-virgin olive oil
Note: make sure the egg (and lemon, if applicable) are taken out of the refrigerator long before you plan to make the mayonnaise. Everything has to be at room temperature for this to work. An egg can absolutely be unrefrigerated for several hours with no problem.
1. Combine the egg, cayenne, mustard, salt, pepper, lemon juice, and 1/4 cup of the oil in the container of a blender or food processor; turn on the machine and, with the machine running, add the oil in a thin, steady stream.
2. After you've added about half the oil, the mixture will thicken; you can then begin adding the oil a bit faster. Watch the magic happen. You can add up to 1 1/2 cups of oil and still have a pleasant, yellow (or pale yellow, if you included the egg white) mayonnaise. Serve or store in the refrigerator for up to a week.
Let's pause for a second so I can wax rhapsodic about the food processor. It might be the best present I've ever received; for a long time, it was the only major kitchen appliance I owned, which meant I made everything from cookie dough to pureed carrots with it. Since it mixes evenly, it's absolutely ideal for things like pancake batter, and since it's so quick, I was done making the batter by the time my pan was hot enough to cook.
So back to breakfast. My dirty little secret? I like pancakes raw, because the batter is usually way better than the final product. (Hush now, naysayers - you know that you love cookie dough. Same idea.) This recipe yields a nice, slightly sweet pancake; next time, I'll sour milk and give them more of a buttermilk taste. But with a handful of chocolate chips tossed in and just a couple minutes on each side, I had perfect, half-cooked pancakes, just the way I like 'em:
Do they look super-tasty? That's because they WERE. Also, I have about eighty pounds of pancake batter left, so I know what I'm having for breakfast tomorrow!
I might have gone back to sleep - briefly.
After driving to my office to pick up tutoring stuff I'd forgotten (awesome, self), I stopped at Whole Foods to pick up the components for the grand tofu-making experiment, and decided salmon would make a good lunch. I started rice as soon as I got home, and prepped the fillet with olive oil, salt, and pepper. It needed only about seven minutes under the broiler to be perfect; that over rice with a healthy squeeze of lemon made for a simple but satisfying lunch.
I might have fallen asleep one more time.
This afternoon and evening were devoted to prep. Dinner was out - I had made reservations ages ago for tonight at Eva, and went with three awesome friends from work. (Seriously, if you live in Los Angeles, make plans to go for their Sunday night dinner. The food is amazing, and there is all the wine you can drink. ALL OF IT.) Before I left, I started a loaf of sandwich bread in the bread machine, which meant I was greeted by the smell of fresh bread when I got back home tonight. In a few minutes, I'll go prep tomorrow night's dinner. But my biggest accomplishment of the evening was making mayonnaise.
Making mayonnaise from scratch is like magic. I've watched my dad do it for years, and it never ceases to amaze me - things are liquid, and then suddenly, seemingly instantaneously, it's a solid. Or...a jiggly solid. I laid out all my ingredients before I left, because everything has to be at room temperature, and held my breath as I sloooooowly added olive oil to the egg and acid and - voila! Beautiful, tart, slightly green (because of the oil, nothing else) mounds of mayonnaise are now chilling in my fridge, ready for tomorrow's sandwich.
So now it's off to prep tomorrow night's dinner, and then toddle off to bed. If a full stomach is a happy stomach, this has been a great day indeed.
Pancakes (from Mark Bittman's How to Cook Everything)
2 cups all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 or 2 eggs (I used one, and it was just fine)
1 1/2 to 2 cups milk (I used 1 3/4)
2 tablespoons melted and cooled butter (optional), plus unmelted butter for cooking, or oil (I didn't use butter, but I'm sure it would make things extra delicious)
1. Preheat a griddle or large skillet over medium-low heat while you make the batter.
2. Mix everything together. The recipe says that you should do dry ingredients first, then beat the eggs into the milk, then add the butter, and THEN add all of this to the dry ingredients. Nah. Put everything in the food processor, or a bowl and beat it with a whisk; don't worry if there are a few lumps.
3. If the batter is too thick for your liking, add more milk.
4. Pour batter into the hot pan. Usually, the first batch requires higher heat than subsequent batches. If desired, add chocolate chips, blueberries, slices of banana - or all three! Let each side cook for two to four minutes; flip when pancakes are cooked on the bottom, since they won't hold together until they're ready.
Mayonnaise (from How to Cook Everything)
1 egg or egg yolk
Dash cayenne
1/2 teaspoon dry mustard
Salt and pepper to taste
2 tablespoons fresh-squeezed lemon juice
1 cup extra-virgin olive oil
Note: make sure the egg (and lemon, if applicable) are taken out of the refrigerator long before you plan to make the mayonnaise. Everything has to be at room temperature for this to work. An egg can absolutely be unrefrigerated for several hours with no problem.
1. Combine the egg, cayenne, mustard, salt, pepper, lemon juice, and 1/4 cup of the oil in the container of a blender or food processor; turn on the machine and, with the machine running, add the oil in a thin, steady stream.
2. After you've added about half the oil, the mixture will thicken; you can then begin adding the oil a bit faster. Watch the magic happen. You can add up to 1 1/2 cups of oil and still have a pleasant, yellow (or pale yellow, if you included the egg white) mayonnaise. Serve or store in the refrigerator for up to a week.
Day 1: And So It Begins!
May 1, ladies and gentlemen! MIMM started off bright and early - literally - as I woke up at 6:00 to go take the SAT. (It's for work. It's another challenge. Apparently my life is one giant competition.) Breakfast was tea and scrambled eggs, since it's important to be both caffeinated and full of protein for four hours of standardized testing, and I brought delicious and nutritious bananas and almonds for snacktime.
By 1:00, though, when the test was over, I was absolutely famished. In high school, after every SAT I took, my dad picked me up and drove me immediately to Panda Express. Today, though, there was no orange chicken in my future; in fact, as I started to drive towards home, I realized that there would be no lunch at all unless I stopped for groceries. Since I'd made a shopping list last night, I forced myself to do an entire shopping, suffered through the longest line imaginable at Ralphs, and walked into my house ready to eat.
Which meant...I had to make something, and it had to be pretty straightforward; at 2:00, I couldn't spend a significant amount of time cooking. So lunch was an open-face sandwich - a piece of toasted whole wheat bread with mashed avocado and slices of tomato and onion. I washed it down with a glass of homemade lemonade; even though beverages aren't on my "make it myself" list, springtime was demanding something tart and sweet to go with the beauty of the day. Dinner was spent at a friend's lovely backyard birthday barbecue.
Here's what I've already realized: I have to have some snacks in the house. I like to nosh; more importantly, when I'm hungry, I really need to eat. Fruit, bread, and nuts will go a long way, but I need to make, and keep, things like crackers or hummus and pita on hand. I'm going to work hard to set menus for dinner the night before so that I can do any necessary prep, and I don't want to ruin that by being so hungry that I have to resort to eggs. Tomorrow's task, then, is to find good recipes those quick and easy snacky things and make at least one of them. And if you want pancakes tomorrow morning, come on by!
Lemonade
1.5 tbs. fresh-squeezed lemon juice
3-4 tbs. sugar
Pinch of salt
Cold water
Put the lemon juice, sugar, and salt in a glass. Add water. Mix. Taste. Add anything that's missing. And yes, cocktail friends, I know that making simple syrup would have better, but there was a back deck to sit on and sunshine to bask in.
By 1:00, though, when the test was over, I was absolutely famished. In high school, after every SAT I took, my dad picked me up and drove me immediately to Panda Express. Today, though, there was no orange chicken in my future; in fact, as I started to drive towards home, I realized that there would be no lunch at all unless I stopped for groceries. Since I'd made a shopping list last night, I forced myself to do an entire shopping, suffered through the longest line imaginable at Ralphs, and walked into my house ready to eat.
Which meant...I had to make something, and it had to be pretty straightforward; at 2:00, I couldn't spend a significant amount of time cooking. So lunch was an open-face sandwich - a piece of toasted whole wheat bread with mashed avocado and slices of tomato and onion. I washed it down with a glass of homemade lemonade; even though beverages aren't on my "make it myself" list, springtime was demanding something tart and sweet to go with the beauty of the day. Dinner was spent at a friend's lovely backyard birthday barbecue.
Here's what I've already realized: I have to have some snacks in the house. I like to nosh; more importantly, when I'm hungry, I really need to eat. Fruit, bread, and nuts will go a long way, but I need to make, and keep, things like crackers or hummus and pita on hand. I'm going to work hard to set menus for dinner the night before so that I can do any necessary prep, and I don't want to ruin that by being so hungry that I have to resort to eggs. Tomorrow's task, then, is to find good recipes those quick and easy snacky things and make at least one of them. And if you want pancakes tomorrow morning, come on by!
Lemonade
1.5 tbs. fresh-squeezed lemon juice
3-4 tbs. sugar
Pinch of salt
Cold water
Put the lemon juice, sugar, and salt in a glass. Add water. Mix. Taste. Add anything that's missing. And yes, cocktail friends, I know that making simple syrup would have better, but there was a back deck to sit on and sunshine to bask in.
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