Category: how to

Hangover Sex: A Menu

leg

Coming hard on the heels of the last post about a particular vegetarian, one might be tempted to interpret this post.

Do as you like.

However.

It’s nearly Valentine’s Day, that most commercial of Hallmark holidays, and I prefer mine a little grubby.

A little gritty.

Don’t get me wrong: hearts and flowers and romance are all exquisite. Expressions of love in any form are always welcome and definitely needed in the world, at the mico- and macroscosmic levels.

#OM

But there is something…raw, vulnerable, visceral…about waking up feeling the previous night’s whiskey and then…feeling the previous night’s date next to you, warm. If you are lucky enough to be unencumbered by children or dogs or any type of responsibility for the day, the possibilities of how to spend that sharply fuzzy morning time together are…endless.

But you’re going to need some food.

When I am feeling the effects of overindulgence, my breakfast usually consists of an anti-nausea pill and some coffee, followed by a long nap and some Gatorade. This has been my MO of late also because I have not had a sleepover in, well, FUCKING FOREVER.

In theory, though, slumber party friend or no, when dinnertime rolls around, it’s on. I need fat, I need carbs, I need strong flavors and lots of them.

Lucky folks in Hampden might convince their sleepytime partner to trot up the The Corner for some kimchi fries to go. If I am being honest, which I always try to be, that place is hipster as fuck, annoyingly so, but I could take a bath in their kimchi fries. They are the perfect combination of salty, spicy, and not too greasy (but still), and one order is never enough.

If I can’t have fries, and I have very little food in the house (which is usually what happens), pasta is the business. But not just any pasta: cacio e pepe. Pasta with pepper and cheese.

Simple. Lusty. Roman peasant food.

The sauce, if you can call it that, is simple:  pecorino Romano,  freshly cracked black pepper, a little pasta water, and pasta.

In a recipe this basic, ingredients are important. The pasta is important.

Sure, you could go for dried pasta. This is a respectable option, especially when you may possibly be just a little bit drunk still. Fresh pasta from the refrigerated section of the grocery store is another way to go.

But.

FRESH PASTA.

That. Yes, there. THAT. 

Fresh pasta manages to somehow be an everyday staple food but still sexy as hell. It is simple to make, delicious, not time-consuming once you can figure out how to work the pasta machine (or eliminate that altogether by rolling out your pasta and hand cutting it), and infinitely satisfying in a recipe with such a simple sauce.

Infinitely satisfying, as in how all things should be the morning after the night before, yes?

Hmmm.

HangoverPasta

Fresh Pasta

Ingredients

10 ounces (about two cups) all-purpose gluten-free flour (regular works fine, too)

1 T xanthan gum

1/2 t. salt

4 eggs

2 T olive oil

Method

Combine dry ingredients in food processor and pulse to combine. Add eggs and olive oil and mix until dough forms. You can also use a big bowl, a fork, and some muscle. Or have your lover do this while you watch.

Turn out onto a lightly floured surface and knead until it feels a bit smooth (you aren’t developing gluten, so don’t overdo it. Just really incorporating all ingredients). Shape into a six-inch roll, then cut into six pieces.

Work with each piece individually to either hand cut, or use your pasta machine.

Pro tip #1: Dust pasta with flour before sending it through the pasta machine.

Pro tip #2: Send it through two times on each setting, starting with the widest and stopping when you can see your hand through the pasta.

Technically, cacio e pepe is for spaghetti, but I like linguine, so I use the linguine cutter on my pasta machine.

After you cut your pasta, you can freeze it in little bundles and drop into salted, boiling water for two or three minutes wheneverthefuck you want some fresh pasta, or you can let the little bundles sit around until you’re damn good and ready (about two hours before you need to make a decision about those little bundles).

Damn good and ready?

Bring a pot of salted water to boil. While you are waiting, grate about two cups of pecorino Romano. Boil your pasta for two minutes, reserving about a cup of pasta water. After you drain the pasta, add it to the cheese, and gradually add pasta water, a little at a time. If your sauce is too wet, add cheese. Too dry? Add water.

Salt to taste (even though the cheese is salty you will need more) and grate a TON of black pepper into the bowl. You can finish with a drizzle of best-quality olive oil if you like, then eat it off your fingers (or each other) when you head back to bed.

Buon appetito!

What’s your favorite hangover menu?

 

 

 

The 10 Most Important Things That Happened In My Kitchen This Year

Baltimore Museum of Art, September 11th. Friday field trips, a lovely tradition from this year.
Baltimore Museum of Art, September 11th. Friday field trips, a lovely tradition from this year.

I won’t lie: I am a sucker for a listicle.

Perhaps it’s because I am myself a prodigious maker of lists. Or maybe it’s because I am old and have the attention span of a fruit fly these days. It’s hard to focus on big words and long sentences sometimes, and yet this blog is filled with them.

Ah, well.

But lists.

I love them.

And I especially love lists that apply to cooking, kitchens, food, or anything otherwise involving comestibles and their preparation.

And now is the time of year when everyone puts out their top ten lists of everything (movies, songs, celebrities, etc). While I won’t lie and pretend that I haven’t ever read a tabloid in line at the supermarket (or on an airplane, or while at the beach. Ahem.), I will say that in general I couldn’t care less about those sorts of lists.

However.

I love top ten lists of cookbooks, like the one from Bon Appetit or this one from Paste.

I love a solid how-to list for ingredients or supplies of a particular cuisine (hello, Korea! You are happening in my kitchen in 2016!).

I especially love lists about stocking a bar (although I would swap out the absinthe in this list and add in a very expensive bottle of sipping whiskey of your preference. Mine is bourbon, and it’s a bottle of Pappy. What else is there?).

Lists create order out of chaos. They gather, organize, and distill crucial information. While I still enjoy reading a page-long sentence every now and then (hello, Kerouac!), and I very obviously enjoy writing them, lists have become a crucial part of my writing, cooking, and daily life.

So. To that end, it only makes sense that I end the year on this, my very new food blog, with a list. I will call it The Ten Most Important Things To Happen In My Kitchen This Year. In no particular order, here they are.

1. I actually got a kitchen

Call it the rehab that never ended, but we bought the house in October and didn’t move in until mid-May. That’s SEVEN MONTHS ON AN AIR MATTRESS. But who’s counting? I am tremendously grateful to be in this house, in this kitchen I designed, regardless of how long it took.

2. Shared my expensive bourbon with a gentleman caller

Because my friend Mark has a lovely liquor store connection, he was generous enough to snag me a bottle of 15-year Pappy Van Winkle. On the interwebs, these bottles are going for upwards of $800. Although I didn’t pay nearly as much as that, I sip it with reverence, and I am not prone to sharing. I shared a wee sip with a gentlemen. It is both the sharing itself and the person with whom I shared that makes it an item on this list. #Standby

3. Acknowledged the importance of vulnerability. Using cake

I decided that moving forward would become impossible and fruitless were I to continue in the manner in which I was traveling prior to death of my spouse. SO. Time to open up to the possibilities. Cake teaches lessons.

4. Got to know a candy-apple red stand mixer

This is my first stand mixer, and it was my Mother’s Day gift to myself. I LURVES it. It marked a new era of spending money on myself, something that I have previously had difficulty doing, and it allows me to make ALL OF THE THINGS.

5. Reaffirmed my love of mise en place

I am mise en place-ing like a boss these days. It just makes life in the kitchen easier. Turns out, having everything in place makes the rest of life easier also. #KitchenLessons

6. Learned how to sharpen my knives (and actually sharpened them)

Yeah, turns out this makes a huge difference. I knew, but lazy took over, then crazy took over, and finally we settled down in Baltimore, and I did it.

7. Mounted my own magnetic knife rack

I dug my standard Ikea magnetic knife thing out of a box when we finally moved in to our permanent house, kicking myself for not having the contractor install it. So it languished in the box for awhile until I couldn’t take it anymore, and I mounted it myself. With a level. #LikeABoss

8. Decided to dig into the shadows 

In keeping with the trend of #3, shadow work has become a focus over the past six months. Uncovering the darkest parts of my experience, examining them, and letting them go has made a profound difference in the quality and depth of my ability to grieve and then move forward. Not nearly done, but the process has been eye-opening.

9. Made a cooking video

But guess what? It was crap, so I am not posting it. I am okay with showing the process, but this was just not even close to what I was going for. So maybe this time next year.

10. Re-designed this website

I said I would not do another website ever again, but I bit the bullet and did it. While it is not exactly what I want yet, it does represent a certain amount of tenacious ferocity that I have learned lurks deep within me. So there’s that.

These go to 11: Got to know The Teenager better

So The Teenager and I are at this amazing place in our relationship where we are transitioning from a straight mother-daughter thing to more mother/daughter friends. This can be very difficult for both parties, as The Teenager sometimes struggles with understanding that I am still her mother (and as long as you are living under my roof….), and I may have difficulty believing everything that comes out of her mouth (the working motto: Trust but verify). In the end, she is becoming a strong, intelligent, opinionated, passionate human who is an excellent friend and an all-around good person. I have realized that it is up to me in many ways to treat her in such a way that allows her to continue on that road, and I did it during one of our long, after-school chats. That she still wants to have them is such a gift.

So that’s my top ten list for 2015. What’s yours?

 

 

Pickled Beets And Thieves Oil

Beets

It may be the holiday season, but right now it’s 70 degrees outside in Baltimore.

I am no Californian. I like four seasons. It should be cold for football, and there should be at least two decent snowfalls per winter. I don’t need Massachusetts-level weather, but snow is imperative.

I have welcomed this weather this week, though. December 14th to the 21st is the darkest week of the year in the northern hemisphere. The last little bits of daylight get swallowed by the darkness well before the dinner hour, and by the time seven o’clock rolls around all I want to do is go to bed. At least the warmth helps.

Still.

“I love the stars too much to be afraid of the dark.” ~Anonymous~

This weekend at yoga teacher training we talked about shadow sides, the darkness that we all have, and how to embrace it just as much as the light. The darkness is what makes people so complex. It is the thing that makes people who they are.

What does this have to do with beets and thieves oil, you ask? Isn’t this supposed to be a food blog, you say?

“There is a crack in everything. That’s how the light gets in.” ~Leonard Cohen~

For me, when it gets dark outside, and I have trouble finding the crack, it is the smallest of gestures that brings me back to humanity. This weekend I was sick. Weird sick, like feverish with no fever, weak, dizzy. The teacher training went for three and a half hours on Friday night, with two hours of yoga, nine and a half hours on Saturday, with four and a half hours of yoga, and five and a half hours on Sunday, with two hours of yoga.

When I dragged myself to the training Friday night, one of my fellow students handed me a gift, a Mason jar with thieves oil Epsom salt bath soak. I had commented on this delicious combination of rosemary, clove, lemon, eucalyptus, and cinnamon on her Instagram, and she saw that I was sick.

This simple gesture stuck with me. It doesn’t take much.

If thieves oil brings me out of the darkness, beets remind me to hunker down. Putting up or preserving seasonal food is primal for me. In times of financial strain, I tend to buy two things: food and books. Entertainment, knowledge, sustenance. Mason jars on the pantry shelves remind me that I have everything I need and give me permission to hunker down until spring.  In the case of pickled beets, they are really in the back of the ‘fridge, but you get the idea.

Here’s how the magic happens.

Thieves Oil Epsom Salts (Scrub or Soak)

Thieves oil has a grisly history. Legend has it that it allowed thieves to rob sick people during the Black Plague without getting sick.  Every recipe I have found has had different proportions, but the one I like best is this:

10 drops of clove essential oil

9 drops of lemon essential oil

5 drops of cinnamon essential oil

4 drops of eucalyptus essential oil

3 drops of rosemary essential oil

Add as much or as little of the above as you like to one or two cups of Epsom salts. Dissolve salts in a hot bath, or use as a scrub. While there are some claims that thieves oil protects against illness, kills Ebola, and prevents you from contracting the Black Plague, I will settle for the fact that it smells delicious, and the transdermal magnesium provided by the Epsom salts soothes sore muscles, helps all organs of the body function, and relieves insomnia.

Spoiler Alert: Some of you local people will be receiving these. Act surprised.

As for the beets, the recipe is very, very simple. I love pickled beets, and I do them a little differently.

(Quick) Pickled Beets

The three jars above used the following ingredients:

Two bunches of beets (living in the drawer of my ‘fridge with their greens cut off for approximately three weeks. I generously call this an “aging process,” but it is highly unnecessary and was more like four weeks. Maybe five. They were none the worse for the wear.)

Pickling brine in the following 1-2-3 ratio: One part vinegar, two parts sugar, three parts water ( I used slightly more vinegar because I love it. White or cider vinegar is fine.)

One cinnamon stick per jar

Method

Peel beets. Wash hands constantly, use gloves, or live with a pinkish hue for awhile. Cut into “hearty matchsticks,” which just means don’t worry too much about uniformity. Call it “rustic” if anyone questions your knife skills.

Pack beets into Mason jars. Add one cinnamon stick for each jar.

Boil pickling brine ingredients for several minutes, then carefully pour over beets. Leave some room at the top.

Cool with the lids off until just warm, then put them in the back of the ‘fridge. Wait until they are completely cool, then start snacking. When the beets start to run out, slice an onion up and throw it in the pickling liquid.

I bet the pickling liquid would make a delicious cocktail. Give it a try and let me know.

These stay delicious forever. They are crispy, crunchy, bloody purple deliciousness that are great on their own, in salads, as part of a relish tray or…? I usually eat them standing in front of the ‘fridge while I decide what else I want to eat.

What brings you out of the darkness? What helps you see the light?

Experimenting: Gnocchi

I am more excited about this potato ricer than perhaps I should be.

True confession time: I have only had gnocchi once.

It was at a restaurant in Little Italy in Baltimore, a place that shall remain nameless but based on reputation alone should have had someone’s nonna in the back making delicate little puffs of potato. 

They certainly charged cash money like they flew Nonna over first class.

Turns out, their gnocchi was less than stellar. They were lukewarm and gummy, served in a quickly-cooling butter sauce with fairly tasteless Parmesan that may have seen the inside of a green can. It was not a good showing, and for years I ignored the presence of this dish in favor of anything else.

Flash forward to gluten-free years, a chilly fall in Baltimore, and some gorgeous and delicious organic russet potatoes from the local market. Turns out gnocchi is a great pasta dish for those avoiding gluten, and some recipes don’t require the use of eggs (although Tom Colicchio’s does, and his is on the list for testing).

I have no idea what I am doing, but tonight is the first experiment with the recipe from Mark Bittman’s book How To Cook Everything. All it requires is russet potatoes, salt, pepper, and flour (I am using my gluten-free all-purpose flour blend, so we will see). 

I have a newly-acquired potato ricer, a bowl that is too big for the aforementioned potato ricer, and the will to dive in.

I also have a four-hour Sunday sauce that I made on Monday (details, details), and I figure the gnocchi might like to rest on top of that when all is said and done. 

So help me out before I judge my initial effort (which Tom Colicchio insists will be unsuccessful on the first attempt): describe the texture and taste I am aiming for. What is the goal?

I plan on trying several different recipes before reporting what actually happen. I may need volunteers to taste. Any (local) takers?

Risotto: A Meditation

Become one with the spoon. (Image source)

In a twist that will surprise no one, I love risotto. Which is sort of strange because I don’t have it that often, but when I do I wonder why I don’t have it Every. Single. Night. 

I guess I forget about risotto as a dinner option, reaching instead for pasta or long-grain rice and the rice cooker.  #Easy

But here’s the thing: risotto is also very, very easy.

Deceptively simple, even.

That silky sauce that appears as you stir and stir and stir. 

Ignore those silly people who say you don’t have to stir. I have tried this, letting it sit and stirring “occasionally,” but the cooking experience is not the same, and worse, the risotto is not the same. Plus this: it’s okay to take 15 minutes to yourself. Blame it on the risotto. 

Remember this:

“When you have time, meditate for 15 minutes. When you don’t have time, meditate for an hour.” ~Zen saying~

“Alternately, take those 15 minutes and make them your Zen-loving bitch by multi-tasking a crisp glass of wine, a little meditative stirring, and a delicious dinner at the end.” ~Me~

The decadent finish of butter. The tiny crunch in the very center of each grain of arborio rice, true al dente.

Easy.

Use fresh, seasonal ingredients. Make your own stock (or buy it if you must, but be picky). Don’t forget the wine (in the pot and in the chef).

Free, Loose, And Easy Risotto (serves 4-6)

Mise en place, baby. Do it like you own it.

First, soffrito. This can be any combination of the following (but is at least the first): chopped onion, garlic cloves, leeks, shallots, carrot. Chop small (carrot, onion, shallot, celery), slice thinly (leek, white part only), or mince (garlic).

Next, measure your arborio rice, two cups.

Heat six to eight cups of stock. Use chicken, vegetable, beef, veal, seafood (so delicious with the seafood variation below).

Pour the wine. Half a cup of dry white wine for the risotto, a full glass for the chef. You can also use dry vermouth and pour yourself a different cocktail (any bourbon cocktail will do, but The Expat is lovely, especially with the seafood or squash risotto below. And because BOURBON.)

Salt and pepper should be within easy reach, as should a finishing generous tablespoon of butter. You will need some olive oil, the good kind, because with so few ingredients quality matters.

Basic method

Heat several tablespoons of olive oil in a sauté pan. Add your soffrito and sauté until onions are translucent.

Add the arborio rice and toast, stirring, until each grain browns slightly and becomes covered with a glorious sheen of oil. Add more oil if you need it. Don’t skimp.

Settle in. Turn on the radio. Sip your cocktail.

Add the 1/2 cup of wine to the pot. Stir until the wine begins to disappear. Happy rice.

Begin to add your warmed stock, one ladle at time. Stir. When each ladle of stock is nearly absorbed (but don’t let it dry out), add another ladle. Stir. Repeat. Stir.

This is when meditation begins. As you add each ladle of stock, bubbles hiss and pop and steam rises. The rice swells with joy and dances in the pan. I sink into a pattern of stirring, swirling around the sides with my spoon in a clockwise pattern, occasionally darting through the middle.

You will know it is nearly done when your Teenaged Daughter crawls out of the cave of her room and hovers over your shoulder.

No teenagers at home? Look for the rice to slow down its rate of absorption. There will be a lingering creaminess to the sauce, and each grain will be nearly cooked all the way through except for the tiniest bit of bite in the center. 

Don’t guess. TASTE.

When the risotto has the texture of something far more complicated than it is, remove from the heat and stir in the butter. Add salt and pepper. Taste. 

Serve in bowls with cracked black pepper and fresh Parmesan. Not the crap in the green can. What are we: animals?

Simple.

If you feel a bit more complicated, the following can be easily made with a minimum of fuss.

Shrimp/Scallop Risotto: Sauté eight ounces each of cleaned shelled shrimp and scallops in olive oil, then remove from the pan. Proceed with a soffrito of onion, and celery. Use seafood stock for the risotto, and finish with fresh chopped parsley.

Butternut Squash and Sage Risotto: Peel, seed, and cut a one-pound (or a little more) butternut squash into 1/2″  cubes. Add butternut squash into a soffrito of onion, celery, and one clove of garlic and proceed with the recipe. Towards the end, before the butter, stir in one tablespoon chopped fresh sage. Finish as usual. 

Mushroom Pancetta Risotto: Add a sprig of rosemary to your warming stock (any kind of stock will do, but you will not use the rosemary in the actual risotto). Sauté four ounces of pancetta until crispy, then remove from the pan. Add 12 ounces of wild mushrooms (your choice) and cook in the fat of the pancetta (don’t crowd the pan or they will not brown. They will steam). Remove from the pan and proceed with onion, garlic, carrot soffrito.

What is your favorite kitchen meditation?