New Year, Fresh Start

Yes, I know, it's been a while since I wrote anything. And yes, I know, I've probably lost all of my followers (all one of them). And finally, yes, I know that this is probably not the best use of my time. Now that I've acknowledged all of this, can I continue?

I really don't have a good excuse for the long break. Between the house purchase, move, and speeding snowball of work craziness, I just didn't have time to keep up with my writing. OK, the truth is that I didn't have the mental energy. I lost my sense of humor sometime in early November and I figured that no one wanted to read about how badly I was dog-paddling in the deep end. Day after day of "students irritated me again," or "I'm still really tired," or "delivered yet another soul-crushing lecture" - who wants to read that? (If you do, just know that you make me very sad.)

But, it's a new year - a new decade even - and that seems like a perfect time for a fresh start. OK, in the interest of full disclosure, I'll admit that I watched "Julie and Julia" this weekend. If that movie doesn't inspire you to blog or cook, or both, then you've completely missed the point. I did not miss the point and in the past 24 hours, I have both blogged and cooked. I even tried a new recipe - braised short ribs. Slow cooked ribs in a rich tomato sauce, a baked sweet potato, and buttered asparagus sounded perfect for a cold, cold, cold winter night. In the end, I have to say that the ribs let me down. Lot of fat and not as tender as I'd hoped. I'd make a joke here, but the only ones that come to mind are really not nice. I know, that's never stopped me before. Well, new year, fresh start.

So, the cooking didn't turn out so well, but hope springs eternal. I'll also share that I had an epiphany during "Julie & Julia" - I decided that there must be two kinds of people in the world: those who have a crush on Stanley Tucci, and those who will have a crush on Stanley Tucci. I'll close with this promise: Until Stanley Tucci arrives on my doorstep, I'll try to write more regularly.

Letting the Chips Melt

Here's my motto for the day: When life hands you buffalo chips, make cookies!




Though I would advise chocolate chips, instead of the buffalo variety.

I'll admit that although warm chocolate chip cookies are satisfying in many ways, I still long for the satisfaction of kicking the Governor squarely in a place that would have him singing soprano for a while. But, in my ongoing effort to avoid criminal charges, I'll stick to the cookies. I'll just console myself with the knowledge that if the Governor wanted one of my cookies, I would look him straight in the eye and say, "No. You can't have any warm cookies because you are a mean, mean man with a cold, cold heart." Then I and my fellow state employee friends would eat our warm cookies right in front of him. That'll learn him to pass a mandatory furlough edict.

Wish I could take a picture of the smell permeating my apartment. Even on a hot July day, you gotta love the smell of fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies.

And...in case you're wondering, I licked the beaters, spoon, and the bowl.

Success!

Good news! I found the recipe. It was right where I left it, in the last place that I looked. The dish is called "Mushroom Wine Sauce," printed on a page devoted shallot recipes. It was so obvious that I'm not sure how I missed it in my earlier searches. I may need to turn in my researcher credentials.

Anyway, here's the sauce, bubbling away:

That's shallots, green onions, mushrooms, and garlic sauteed in butter and flour, then simmered in red wine and beef consomme. From there, it was good, rich goodness on my grilled steak. To complete the meal, I added a baked potato, marinated asparagus spears, and a green salad with dried cranberries, blue cheese, and walnuts. Topped off with a glass of red wine and it was true Sunday dinner goodness, with enough left over for a Monday holiday. Doesn't get much better than that.

OK, I have the ingredients...

The other day, I sat down and planned my grocery list. I carefully planned a week of meals, hoping to avoid the every-other-day trip to the grocery store. I even found a new recipe to try - a sauce for grilled steak. I added the ingredients to my list and I was off.


Yesterday, I remembered the steak recipe and decided that I'd try it tonight. I set the steak to defrosting in the fridge and turned my attention to the sauce. Almost immediately, I realized that I was in trouble. I'd forgotten an important step in my planning process - I didn't mark the new recipe and I'd replaced the cookbook into its proper place. Bewildered, I faced my shelf of cookbooks:

Note the bookmarks. I can assure you that none of them mark a page with "mushroom steak sauce" on it. I know, I looked. At all of them. I also know that the recipe came from one of the Southern Living cookbooks. Note how many Southern Living cookbooks are on the shelf. Hell I know which one is the right one. To add final insult to injury, I think the sauce recipe was an "add-on," so not the primary recipe. In case you're counting, that's all cards stacked against me.

So, here's where things stand, I know that the recipe called for the following ingredients, because I bought these ingredients and they are not staples on my grocery list: That's red wine, beef consomme, shallots, and mushrooms. I seem to recall that the recipe called for more ingredients that I already had in my kitchen. Again, hell if I know what they were.

I tried searching for "shallots," "beef consomme," "mushrooms," and "steak" on the Southern Living website. No dice. I'm beginning to think that I made the whole thing up.

Crap.

On Top of Spaghetti...

Continuing what is becoming a regular feature, here's my big cooking extravaganza for the week. This week: Spaghetti and meatballs. I make the meatballs from scratch, and doctor some spaghetti sauce from a jar. I've made my own sauce before, but something's got to give when making meatballs from scratch.

[Fair warning before I continue: This topic is fraught with the possibility for double entrendre. Feel free to snicker like Beavis and/or Butthead at will.]

I started with a mixture of ground turkey and mild Italian sausage. As I removed the sausage from its casings, I remembered that this is not a recipe for the neat-niks among us. Let's just say that the sausage needs coaxing. It seems to respond best to firm pressure, starting at one end ... that's all I'm going to say about that.

Next, I dumped breadcrumbs, eggs, garlic, parmesan cheese, Italian seasoning, salt, and pepper into the mixing bowl. I looked at the gooey mess and knew that I needed to push up my sleeves and dig in. But, I wasn't ready to get that messy. Optimistically, I grabbed my spoon. I knew it wouldn't work and sure enough, it didn't. Oh, it stirred fine, but it didn't mix. Sighing loudly, I pushed up my sleeves and dove in with both hands. Within seconds, I had an evenly mixed batch of meatball goodness. I'd show you a picture, but the goodness doesn't digitally transfer. The goodness looks more like something that someone has already enjoyed once and no one wants to see that.

So, moving on. Using my gooey hands, I reached in and broke off a piece of goodness. Carefully rolling it between my palms, I shaped it into a rather sticky ball, like a ping pong ball. A ping pong ball that won't bounce because it's made of meat. There wasn't time to admire my handiwork because there was much more meat to handle. After more dipping, rolling, and shaping, I ended up with this:

And ... repeat. Made another pan just like this one. If you're counting, that's 30 meatballs. That's a lot of balls. Since I don't want to eat meatballs at every meal for the next 3 weeks, 20 of the little fellows headed to the freezer. They'll come in handy on a long workday when I'm too tired to think about food.

While the balls rested, I moved onto the sauce. Like I said, it's doctored jar sauce.

Mix all of this together and let it boil. (Not all of the wine, obviously. Must save some for the actual meal.)

After simmering for 10 minutes, I dropped the first balls in. They disappeared to the bottom and started cooking. Ten minutes later, they came out and the next batch went in. Another ten minutes and it was all balls in. Dropped the pasta in the boiling water and put the bread in the toaster oven. Ten more minutes and we had spaghetti and meatballs, with a side of garlic bread.

Everyone now: "On top of spaghetti, all covered with cheese. I lost my poor meatball, when somebody sneezed..."

All About the Jeffersons

Last night, I satisfied my cooking urge by making white chicken fricassee. I found the recipe in my Southern Living cookbook, though the cookbook cites Thomas Jefferson's Cook Book as the original source. According to the write-up, the recipe uses "practically the same ingredient list as the original recipe." I figured that if it was good enough for Tom, it was good enough for me. Besides, fricassee is so much fun to say.

I started by dusting the bone-in chicken breasts with a mixture of salt, pepper, paprika, and nutmeg. Then, I browned the breasts in hot oil (insert sizzling sound here).

Step 2: Roux. I removed the chicken and added flour to the oil. Careful to whisk constantly, I waited until the mixture turned light brown (not shown in this picture). I've burned roux before, so I am familiar with disappointment, unhappiness, and the lingering bad smell. Luck was with me last night as I avoided this mistake.

Next, add a mixture of wine and water. If I make this again, I might try chicken broth instead of water. Tom might have liked a less rich sauce, but I think it might be interesting to see what happens with more flavor in the sauce. Anyway, added the liquid and whisked until it boiled and thickened.

Once I achieved boilage, I put the chicken back in the pot, covered it, and waited 50 minutes. I suspected that I'd chosen a winning dish as good smells filled the house. It also had all the earmarks of comfort food - perfect for a chilly evening.

Fast forward 50 minutes: I removed the chicken again. I knew it would be good when the meat practically fell off of the bone as I took out each piece. Then, like those cooks of yore, I strained the sauce (except they probably didn't have a plastic strainer. Otherwise, it was very authentic).
I returned the now empty pot to the stove and melted some butter. Using my handy dandy chopper, I made quick work of an onion and added it to the pot. More sizzling and stirring and voila - sauteed tender onion. Poured the sauce back into the pot, added some mushrooms, fresh sage, fresh parsley, and chicken. Oh - and a cup of half-and-half. Normally, I reserve half-and-half for coffee only, but I made an exception in this case. Man, was it worth it!

Thick rich sauce over tender, well-seasoned chicken. No wonder Tom liked this recipe. As instucted, I boiled some rice and served up my masterpiece, with a green salad on the side. I decided to treat myself with one of my favorite green salads - Bibb lettuce, spinach, fresh orange, walnuts, purple onion, and homemade sweet and sour dressing. Yum! (Clearly, this picture does not do justice to the chicken. Trust me, it looked much more appetizing than a bas-relief representation of Greenland.)



Overall, I enjoyed my dinner from the annals of Thomas Jefferson's kitchen. I might even try some of the other recipes, though I think I'll pass on Carthusian. According to the cookbook, the dish consists of "blanched cabbage leaves ... filled with boiled carrots and pigs' tongues." Oink.

Barbecue is NOT a verb

I'm having a very relaxing weekend. I don't have anything to grade and I cancelled my class on Tuesday. The little darlins have a paper due on Thursday and I figured I could use a break before I have to grade their masterpieces. As a result, I'm kicking back and taking it easy this weekend. I've done some thinking about next semester, finished a book, and burned through 2 Netflix movies. Today, I moved on to one of my favorite activities: cooking something that takes a really, really long time. Barbecue from scratch.

I shopped for the ingredients yesterday. Boston butt was on sale at the P-store - a sign from God that it was bbq time. I chose this one, a nice 5.5 pound butt. I also picked up some buns, chips, pork and beans, and cole slaw. As I checked out, the cashier said, "Looks like you're going to barbecue." I didn't correct her, but everyone knows that "barbecue" is not a verb.

Making bbq is a 4-hour process. I started at 3:15PM. I took the butt out of the package and put it in a pot with water to cover. I added sliced onions, bay leaves, and whole cloves. Then, I turned on the heat and waited for the boil. Once I achieved boil, I put on the lid, and let it go for three hours. It smelled amazing! Spicy cloves and bay leaves permeated the house. I turned my attention to my syllabus for next semester and waited.

At 5:45, it was time for the beans. Yes, anyone who knows me knows that I believe that beans are the work of the devil. But, you can't have bbq without baked beans. So, I emptied the can of pork and beans and gathered the necessary ingredients.

Enough of this stuff and you can't taste the beans anymore. The cinnamon is the secret ingredient. Ssshh.

After adding the right amount of each of these wonderful transformative taste sensations, I popped the beans in the oven and turned my attention to the sauce. Can't have bbq without sauce. Without sauce, it's just shredded butt and no one wants that.

I like this sauce. It's spicy but not so hot that you want to die. It's got onion, ketchup, vinegar, Worcestershire sauce, water, brown sugar, chili powder, pepper, and salt. You know it's good when there's twice as much pepper as salt. It simmers for 30 minutes and gets good and thick.

With the sauce bubbling away, I turned to the meat. Armed with two forks, I opened the pot and said, "I'm goin' shred your ass!" I do like to crack myself up while I cook. Then, I set to work. I have to admit that this is the part that I'm not so fond of. Shredding an entire Boston butt with two forks is hard work. After about 20 minutes of shredding, I had reduced the butt to this:

Back into the pot with the shredded meat, add some sauce and simmer for 20 minutes. Finally, at 7:15PM, I sat down to this:
I went with the open face option, with extra sauce. And, yes, those are potato chips. Can't have bbq without chips. In case you're wondering, it was really, really good.