On Almost-Autumn Days and Soup

It's the perfect kind of overcast day. The kind that causes me to mentally check out- leaving my books behind on the table while I stare out the window with the utmost sensation of comfort and warmth within.

I'd like to imagine that these are the days that inspire poetry, reminiscences of autumns past, home-grown football games in damp, grassy yards, and impromptu soirees around steaming cups of tea.

And when the rain sleeks the glossy surface of my window, I know that the draining heat-filled summer days have come at least to a temporary halt... and that's a relief.

If I wasn't sick with what may or may not be swine flu, I think I'd take advantage of this weather to bounce around outside, and then maybe draw a tree or take a picture of a peculiar front door that I find :) but as I've been stuck here, with an overwhelmingly large pot of chicken soup that I somewhat ruined by plunking a Reggiano rind in the mess, I have needed to do something to keep my mind away from simple linear regressions (econometrics homework).

So I'm going to give you another recipe for chicken soup- sans le fromage

Chicken Soup for the Ill and Healthy
adapted from this recipe by Orangette
This feeds so many you won't know what to do with it. I'd actually recommend freezing some. Anyway, I think it's important to have a recipe for chicken soup handy for those times when you do fall victim to microbial beasts.

3 bone-in chicken breasts (or you can mix it up with thighs as well)
1 bunch of thyme
2 leeks, chopped into small pieces- don't be afraid to use the green parts
3 medium sized carrots, chopped into bite-sized pieces
3-4 stalks celery, chopped into bite-sized pieces
3 cloves garlic, diced
2 boxes of low sodium chicken stock (around two quarts... but a little less will do)
1 cup either tiny pasta or rice (I used wild rice)
1 bunch parsley
2-3 cups spinach
Ground black pepper or whole peppercorns
Salt

Preheat the oven to 450 degrees. Wash the chicken breasts and toss with olive oil, salt, pepper, and as much thyme as you'd like... make sure you rub the spices into the skin. Then place in an oven-safe dish and cook for about 30 minutes (you'll want it to be cooked through with golden skin... according to the original recipe). Set aside after taking them out of the oven

In a large stock-pot saute the leeks in some oil until they're translucent. Add the garlic, carrots, rice, and celery and saute for a few more minutes. Then add some springs of thyme, salt, and black pepper.. feel free to add any more spices that you see fit. Finally, add the whole chicken breasts and then the stock. You'll want to bring the whole mixture to a boil and then simmer, for maybe 30 minutes or so... until the vegetables are tender. During the cooking process, add as much chopped parsley and spinach as you'd like. When everything looks like it's cooked the way you'd like, then take those chicken breasts out and shred the meat from the bones, adding it to the soup.

I'd serve it with a squeeze or two of lemon and some fresh parsley on top.

Enjoy!

Spices

I can say that I now live with a spice purist.... and I think I might be a convert.

I used to be one of those people that ambled down to my local grocery store and picked up the generically packaged (or scooped from the bulk-size bucket of) ground spices. I'd store those little glossy jars in a cupboard and pluck them accordingly for my cooking needs, sprinkling the various powders in pots of bubbling curries and stews.

Woah. Wrong picture. Well, right picture, but not in this apartment! Those jars are now filled to the brim with whole spices... and an old coffee grinder camps out on the table nearby, ready to grind any spices that come its way. I promise, it's a good thing. You won't believe the difference in flavor.

I guess my point here is that grinding your own spices isn't just an exercise for the bold and daring. It's actually pretty common in traditional cultural cuisine. And the real kicker is that it's not expensive at all. I mean, they're the same spices, just not ground up and ready to go. You can even grind a decent amount and store it in those cute little jars :)

So just in case you have an old grinder, and feel like being a tad adventurous, here's a recipe for Garam Masala... taken from this random website. The result was great- I'd make a curry right away if I were you!

Garam Masala
You'll need a grinder of sorts- I'm sure that a Cuisinart would work fine... but we used an old coffee grinder

Ingredients:

2 tablespoons cumin seeds
2 tablespoons coriander seeds
2 tablespoons cardamom seeds
2 tablespoons black peppercorns
1 (3-inch) stick cinnamon, broken up
1 teaspoon whole cloves
1 teaspoon grated nutmeg (yeah... grate it yourself :))

Instructions:

Put all ingredients except the nutmeg in a skillet over medium-high heat and toast the spices for about 10 minutes- you'll want them to be a darker shade and to be emitting wonderful aromas! Then set aside to cool. When they're pretty cool, transfer them to a coffee grinder or Cuisinart and grind away. Then add the grated nutmeg and mix. After that, you can store the mixture in an airtight container for 3 months. This recipe yields 1/2 cup according to the site, but I'm convinced that we got more out of it.

Enjoy!

Back in Action

Hello-

I thought I'd take advantage of the last (and second) post of August to apologize for the lull in posting activity on the site and say that I am, dutifully, even if it takes me writing about sauteed zucchini and almonds, back on board.

I have to say, though, there was a reason (aside from being busy with school and work) that I didn't post much this last month. The impossible occurred- I became uninspired by food. At the end of the flurries that were my summer days, I ate the most simple concoctions, followed by a beer. Sometimes, I even skipped the concoctions. Heh.

So now I'm armed with a new kitchen and a new desire to get back into the wonders and creativity of the cooking process. Yet, to overcome this slump that I've fallen quite unexpectedly into, I'm going to need to take baby steps... starting with breakfast.

So today, instead of eating a couple bites of yogurt, then a few walnuts, followed by a piece of fruit, I tried to put the facets of my morning routine together, with a little cinnamon on top. The result was more inspiring than I expected. Along with a cup of green tea, I got a taste of the bliss that I used to come across everyday when I ate. Here's to a good start.

The Breakfast Club

There was once a time when I woke up solely for the purpose of opening a door.

Well, it wasn't just any old door- it was the door to 2809 Frederick, my freshman dorm room. My amazing roommate Irine and I would awake from our respective slumbers, stumble out of our beds, and get ready for class. I'd blast some random music from my computer, which, I admit, had a known history of getting stuck in our heads throughout the rest of the day (there was an unfortunate incident when Bob Marley ran continuously through Irine's amply knowledgeable mind on a day in which she had three exams...my fault!). When we were completely ready, Irine and I would open our door- and that's how the day began.

You see, waiting for us outside the door (maybe leaning against the hallway walls, or sitting on the 70's style carpet) was a group of pretty wonderful people (of which Ana was a member I might add!) Our very good friends happened to also be our neighbors- I don't know a time when that will ever occur again in my life. And for a brief moment, I believe, we'd all rub our sleepy eyes and realize that we were all so lucky to be together. It was with this group of people that I witnessed my first snowfall, laughed my way through an "honors" classics class, saw "Dirty Dancing" for the first time, played on a broomball team, and stole cafeteria trays to slide down snow-covered hills.

After reuniting in the hallway, we'd begin our routine. Our pathway never changed- down the stairs, through the commons, past the small newspaper stand (two of us would grab a paper), and across the way to the dorm across the street. The mornings were silent, so we entertained ourselves with squabbles, jokes, and the occasional question about the upcoming class that we shared together.

By the end of the first semester, we began calling ourselves the Breakfast Club. We were quite the raconteurs in the somnolent scene of the cafeteria. We'd sit next to tall basketball players and crew team members, and as they chugged down their protein filled breakfasts, we'd snap at each other about politics or laugh about the most random things.

There was another reason I got up though- breakfast itself. If you can't tell already, I live to eat... so one of my favorite things about the cafeteria that we frequented was the fact that it had a decent collection of fruit. Quite often, we'd see melons, grapes, pineapple, and, if we were lucky, bananas.

Bananas were not an everyday occurrence, but when they did make an appearance, they were of the perfect ripeness. It seemed like on days when they didn't serve bananas, slices of banana bread would appear next to the fruit. Perhaps, this was some kind gesture to save us from eating overripe bananas. The banana bread was quite the saccharine concoction- but it provided enough of a sugar rush to take on our first class in one fell swoop.

Breakfast has a fond place in my heart for many reasons, but one of which is definitely the Breakfast Club. Whenever I come across banana bread, I think about the days when I ate in a dorm cafeteria and lived with 1200 other people (or something)... and although I don't think I could live like that again, I remember liking those days. a lot.

Now that I'm home, I once again see bananas on a daily basis... and about once every couple of weeks three of them get a little too ripe. So I make banana bread. I've experimented a lot with recipes, and taking health into concern I've discovered a wonderful one that doesn't require any butter. It's quite famous as it has been debuted here and remastered here.

So here is my version! It has walnuts instead of chocolate chips, and a bit less sugar.

A Slightly Healthy Banana Bread
Only very slightly adapted from the two versions above

1 1/2 cups flour
3/4 cup sugar
1 tsp baking soda
1 1/2 tsp. cinnamon
1/4-1/2 cup chopped walnuts
3 very ripe bananas (preferrably medium to large sized), mashed
1 tsp vanilla extract
2 large eggs

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Grease an 8" x 5" pan (or whatever you'd like!) Mix dry ingredients in a large bowl and the wet in a smaller one. Add the wet ingredients to the dry and mix well. Pour mixture into the pan and set in the oven. Cook for 35-40 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean.

I added granola to the top of this one for fun.

Enjoy!

Peter Piper

Every week, my mother wages a small battle with the pepper vendor at the farmers' market.

I can imagine the scene- the man with an aspen green apron behind a beautiful fiery display of peppers, ranging from the lightest green to the most brilliant red, all lying peacefully on the table as if they had just been plucked carefully from the sun. And along comes my wonderful mom, ever-vigilant, and, pointing nicely to a particularly orange pepper, she asks: "Is this one hot?"

Well, what is the man to do? His taste buds are as different from anybody's (as the diverse arrangement of peppers on the table indicates). His wares must always be scrutinized as such- by levels of heat. So he replies: "No, no, don't worry." My mom trusts him, buys the peppers and brings them home.

She does miraculous things with those peppers- cooks them over the free flame of the grill or sautes them with with a mellower gathering of vegetables. And when my mother, brother, and I sit down to eat, we immediately reach for the beautiful plate of peppers.... and then we all clamor for breath as tears fall from our eyes and the peppers scorch our tongues.

The episode repeats the following week, with my mom assuring us that she got new peppers from the pepper farmer, and that this time he said we wouldn't have any problems.... and then we can't seem to handle them either! Not to mention, we're a family that can take some spice. Growing up on Mexican lollipops dipped in chili powder and hot sauces in the fridge, my brother and I aren't too sensitive to the heat. Nevertheless, we had to keep stepping down the pepper scale, just until we reached these guys...


They're Fresno chiles, but if you buy Serrano or Anaheim, you'll get a similar feel. I'm not going to give a formal recipe, but I'd recommend removing the seeds and pithe (apparently, it's the pithe that carries the heat, not the seeds!) and cutting them in half lengthwise. Then add some oil to a pan, and saute some garlic and shallots. Add anything you'd like- we like leeks and zucchini, and then the peppers. We let the ingredients carmelize in the pan, until they break down into a mess of flavors. It's amazingly delicious and simple... and if there's not enough flavor for you, then throw some fresh oregano, or dried thyme in there. Serve alongside a grain or meat with some salad, and you've got dinner.

My kitchen

In all honesty, I should probably entitle this post: "My mom's kitchen" because it is my mother- the full-time navigator of the corporate world, the endless burst of energy in human form, and the best mom I could ask for- that made the kitchen the most comfortable space in my home.

You see, being home for the summer means readjusting- relearning the rules of the kitchen, the nooks where certain utensils, pots, and pans reside, the corners where we hide the jars of plum-raspberry jam from Fresno, and the surfaces of the counter top that are prone to get messy and therefore must be kept under vigilant watch.

Unfortunately, in this three person home, my mom's kitchen is also a "one person at a time" kind of place. It's really not an issue of physical space (multiple people could comfortably cook at once in the room) but rather of mental space. When my mother, brother, and I are in the kitchen, the energy is unstoppable. The room transforms into an arena, with two people challenging the one proposing to cook to a competition of words. Ironically, the person wielding the pots and pans is in danger- the other two are free to attack on all verbal fronts. My brother and I reproach my mother's recycling habits, my mom and brother ridicule my predilection towards beans and tofu, and my mom and I LOVE making fun of my brother's cleaning habits. Oh man.

Anyway, I say this in jest. People are totally welcome to come over and cook- but when it's just the three of us, things get dangerous. That's partly why this blog has been barren for the summer (aside from that lovely Turkish coffee post, you saved me Ana!)- it's HARD to get in that kitchen and cook. I'm telling you!

But sometimes there's no verbal warfare in the kitchen. It's as if we all relinquished white flags before entering the room. In fact the only thing one can hear is music. On these evenings, my mom will come home from work and put some of the most soulful, meaningful, and creative music that I know on the little kitchen stereo. The familial discussion will cease, and the foot stomping on our worn wooden floors will commence. Any potential difficulties cooking together disappear, as my mom and I shout the lyrics to the amazing music and dance like there's no tomorrow. I find myself singing songs with crazy titles like: "Free Man in Paris" and with lyrics along the lines of: "Tin soldiers and Nixon's coming. We're finally on our own!" As we sing and dance, we cook- it just works, no one says anything, we just each take a role and know what to do. Generational gaps crumble in that kitchen. Words no longer have any meaning...well, unless they're the lyrics to a song.

At about the time that I finally realize how ridiculous I look protesting the Vietnam war in the middle of my kitchen, and that I am not at Woodstock, dinner is ready to be served. We turn the music down, exhausted, and sit down to eat. My dog, who already has no idea what the heck we're doing, sighs heavily and lies down, defeated, under the table. What a catharsis.

Last night was a similarly great experience. My mom was out to dinner so my brother and I put on an old CD from our childhood and cooked away. We made some fajitas and rice, adapted from recipes from some lovely books. I thought I'd share them with you, as they were quite delicious.

So here's to music, company, and kitchens. Three things that have made my life that much richer.

Improvised Fajitas
(with a spice mixture adapted from "The Complete Mexican, South American and Caribbean Cookbook", a gift from a truly remarkable friend :))

1/2 yellow or white onion, chopped coarsely
2 cloves of garlic, minced
1 bell pepper chopped
1/2 serrano or similarly spiced pepper, chopped
2 tomatoes, chopped
leftover cooked chicken, beef, or grilled vegetables
1 1/2 tsp. sugar
1/2 tsp. cinnamon
1/2 tsp. oregano
1/2 tsp. chile powder
dash of cayenne pepper
salt and pepper to taste

Heat some oil in a skillet on medium heat. Add onions and garlic and cook for a few minutes- until onions are translucent. Add bell and chili peppers and cook, again for a few minutes. Add spices, tomatoes, and meat/grilled vegetables. Cook for a good amount of time on high heat, then, if there's a lot of liquid in the pan, bring heat down to low and cook on a simmer.

Mexican Rice
(adapted from "Cooking with the Seasons at Rancho la Puerta")

1/2 white onion (or other half from fajitas), coarsely chopped
1 clove garlic, minced
1/2 serrano or similarly spiced pepper, chopped
1 carrot, minced
1 tsp. California chile
1 cup long grain rice
1 medium tomato pureed with 2 cups water
salt and pepper to taste

In a medium saucepan heat a small amount of oil. Add onions, garlic, carrots, and pepper and cook for a few minutes, until onions are translucent. Add the rice, chile powder, and a bit of salt and cook for a minute. Add the tomato puree to the pan, bring mixture to a boil. Then turn heat down and simmer mixture for thirty minutes (I'd check on it after 20)... until rice is fluffy.

Enjoy!

Hurrah!

Two (hopefully thoughtful) posts coming soon! For now three pictures:

One to construct haiku's to:

One to applaud my brother's breakfast making skills:

And one for a bit of inspiration:


Ok, I will continue talking incessantly about food again very soon!!