NOTE: I am a fan of 30-day challenges, and November is traditionally a time of two: National Novel Writing Month, and 30 Days of Thanks. As I am not a fiction writer, this year I have chosen to publish a daily blog for the entire month, expressing my gratitude. This may not be entirely food-focused, but expect recipes aplenty. Feel free to join me in the comments below. What are you thankful for today?
I got my first horse when I was 36. Sadie was a 20-year-old retired racing thoroughbred and dressage school horse.
Although I had read nearly every book about horses growing up and then added to that knowledge volunteering for Save The Horses in Georgia for three years before I adopted her, Sadie really taught me what it meant to own a horse. She was patient while I made every mistake known to horses and never let me down. She taught me how to be a sensitive rider; as a dressage horse her sides were very sensitive, and as a race horse her face was, too, so for the first year I rode her with by legs away from her sides and the reins loose.
Across all of the changes in my life in the past decade, Sadie was a constant.
She died last year at age 31, well-loved until her very last breath.
Today I am grateful for horses.
Everything about them – their grace, beauty, and acceptance. The way they can teach you about yourself, if you’ll let them, and how willing they are to be your partner.
I have thought about getting back in the saddle, so to speak, but every time I look for opportunities to volunteer or ride it reminds me of the loss of Sadie, from my life when I had to leave her in Georgia first, and then finally from this world just a year later.
NOTE: I am a fan of 30-day challenges, and November is traditionally a time of two: National Novel Writing Month, and 30 Days of Thanks. As I am not a fiction writer, this year I have chosen to publish a daily blog for the entire month, expressing my gratitude. This may not be entirely food-focused, but expect recipes aplenty. Feel free to join me in the comments below. What are you thankful for today?
Day one in a new America, but day ten in the (now very challenging) gratitude challenge.
Yesterday was a roller coaster of emotion for me. I spent most of the morning in bed, crying when I thought about how I was supposed to teach yoga to children later that day.
I watched HRC’s concession speech and saw a more presidential non-president elect than I think I have ever seen. I half expected her to say, “You know what? Fuck you. I have given my entire life in service to this country, and you went with someone who has given his entire life in service to gaining wealth for himself.”
But she did not. As always, she was graceful, intelligent, and passionate.
So here we are, day ten of gratitude, and today, I am grateful for soup.
Not just any soup.
Soul-warming noodle soup from Mi & Yu Noodle Bar in Federal Hill (also now in Mt. Vernon but parking sucks there).
After teaching yoga I stopped off and picked up some soup on the way home – kimchi broth with tofu and pho for me, and vegetarian broth with tofu and ramen for Khristian.
I drove home in the dark and the rain and found Khristian in the kitchen, sipping bourbon and reading.
I took off my jacket and boots while Khristian unpacked our goodies. We sat down together in the dim light of the kitchen and consoled ourselves with spicy, aromatic, and deeply nourishing bowls of soup.
Exactly what was needed.
I have a recipe for pho, an amazing recipe that is full-on plagiarized from somewhere.
I repeat: this is not my recipe.
I repeat that because I recently saw someone try to pass this recipe off as their own on The Kitchn, word for word. Plagiarizing recipes is a big fat no-no, and I called them on it.
The problem here is that all I have of this recipe is a stained piece of paper with the ingredients and the method – no attribution. So I point out it’s not mine but cannot give full credit, which is distressing but sometimes that’s the way things happen. You cut out a recipe or jot down ingredients, not realizing that it will be life-changing and you’ll want to share it later.
If you are not lucky enough to live near Mi & Yu or some similar place, make this when you need comfort. The broth freezes beautifully, so you can even make it on a bright, sunny day and just save it for when the clouds roll in.
Pho
Born in Vietnam in the 1880s, pho is little more than beef broth with thinly sliced vegetables and meat cooked directly in the piping hot broth, served with fresh herbs and lime. I have very little experience with cooking Asian food in general and with pho specifically. I am sure there are a million variations on this very delicious theme.
But I don’t profess to be a connoisseur. I have not made a career of seeking out the best pho, and I have never been to Vietnam. I don’t trust street food, where, it’s rumored, some of the best bowls are to be found, and I didn’t even know how to properly pronounce the word until my friend Kerry’s husband Mark looked at me askance and said with a bit of an air, “You mean, FUH?”
But I will say that this is the best pho-king pho I have ever had. It takes work. Multiple days. It costs a lot of money, way more than a bowl of something just as good at a pho shop would taste. But at the end of it all, you get to sit down with a bunch of friends around bowls filled with fresh, brightly colored vegetables and meat and share something utterly delicious and satisfying.
Broth Ingredients
Note: Make this the day ahead. When ready to serve, heat to nearly boiling and refresh with sliced fresh ginger. This broth can also be frozen.
5 pounds beef bones with marrow (oxtails can also be used)
2 pounds beef chuck, or other similar, flavorful cut of stewing or roasting beef
2-3” pieces of ginger, bruised with a knife and charred (see technique below)
2 medium yellow onions, peeled and charred (see technique below)
¼ cup fish sauce (don’t skimp)
3 tablespoons light brown sugar
Toasted spices: 10 whole star anise, 6 whole cloves
1 tablespoon salt (not iodized; sea salt, preferably)
Broth Method
Charring technique: Bruising the ginger by pounding it with the flat of a chef’s knife before charring helps release more juice and flavor. For both ginger and onion, use tongs and hold over a flame until the sides are burnt and smoking. Both ginger and onions will become fragrant in about three or four minutes. Peel skin and discard before using.
For the spices: toast star anise and cloves in a dry sauté pan over medium heat until fragrant. Cool slightly and wrap in cheesecloth. Set aside.
For those with electric or convection cooktops, ginger and onions can be placed directly on the burner for the same effect. A crème bruleé torch can also be used.
Assemble two stockpots, one large and one medium. In the large stockpot, bring six quarts of water to a boil.
Place the beef bones and chuck in the medium stockpot and cover with water. Bring to a rolling boil and boil for five minutes. This first step removes impurities from the beef and helps you create a clear broth.
Remove the bones and beef with tongs and place in the large stockpot, discarding water from medium stockpot.
When the water returns to a boil, simmer for about 20 minutes, skimming fat and foam that rises to the top. Add charred ginger, charred onion, fish sauce, and sugar, then simmer for about 40 minutes until beef is tender (continue to skim the surface periodically). Remove beef, cutting it in half. Place half back in the pot, and the other half in a bowl of cold water for ten minutes. After ten minutes, remove from water and cut into thin slices (set aside for serving).
After about 90 minutes of simmering, add spice bag and allow to simmer and infuse the broth for about 30 minutes. Remove spice bag and onions, discarding both, then continue to simmer, skimming constantly. Add salt and cook for a total of at least two hours (the longer the better).
Remove bones and beef and discard. Strain broth through cheesecloth. At this point, the broth can be cooled and kept for later serving. It can also be frozen.
Garnishes
One package rice sticks, prepared according to package directions
Raw beef sirloin, frozen and then thinly sliced across the grain
Yellow onion, thinly sliced
Scallions, green part only, sliced into rings
Bean sprouts
Lime wedges
Asian basil (or regular basil if Asian basil is not available)
Chopped cilantro
Assembly
Bring broth back to a rolling boil. If you have cooled it completely or frozen the broth, refresh with two or three pieces of fresh ginger.
Warm soup bowls with boiling water.
Assemble all of your garnishes. If you are having friends over, place all garnishes out and allow them to add what they like.
General guidelines for assembly combine cooked beef with raw ingredients that get cooked with the hot broth. Start with prepared noodles in the bottom of the bowl. Add a few pieces of cooked beef chuck and a few slices of raw sirloin. Ladle boiling soup on top of noodles and serve with large bowls of fresh onion, scallions, and herbs. Make slurping sounds and be prepared for not much talking.
NOTE: I am a fan of 30-day challenges, and November is traditionally a time of two: National Novel Writing Month, and 30 Days of Thanks. As I am not a fiction writer, this year I have chosen to publish a daily blog for the entire month, expressing my gratitude. This may not be entirely food-focused, but expect recipes aplenty. Feel free to join me in the comments below. What are you thankful for today?
Hard to summon gratitude today, even though I know I have much to be thankful for.
Rather than pour out my complicated feelings of despair, shock, and heartbreak, I will simply say that I am grateful for the rain and a schedule that is reasonably free today so that I can grieve.
NOTE: I am a fan of 30-day challenges, and November is traditionally a time of two: National Novel Writing Month, and 30 Days of Thanks. As I am not a fiction writer, this year I have chosen to publish a daily blog for the entire month, expressing my gratitude. This may not be entirely food-focused, but expect recipes aplenty. Feel free to join me in the comments below. What are you thankful for today?
I guess today I am thankful for being busy; I started a food delivery service just one month ago, and this week I have eight deliveries. That’s eight people for whom I am cooking this week, people who can come home and have a delicious, organic meal ready for them when they come home.
I am grateful for the people who order every week. I am grateful for their support and their feedback, but mostly I am grateful to be able to make someone’s long day a little easier with a hot meal.
It warms the cockles of my heart when someone stands up and puts it out there: who they are, who they are not, what they believe. Things they might, in fact, die for if shit went south and got overly dramatic or fraught.
Take corn dogs, for instance.
I have an old friend who is almost like a brother who now mostly exists for me on Facebook. He was a great friend in person and is now a great friend online.
But he has gone his entire life not having ever tasted the ambrosia that is a corn dog.
How is this possible? In this day and age, with an abundance of corn dogs to be had, how can he have not eaten the greasy golden goodness of tube meat encased in sweetcrunchycreamy corn bread?
And back the fuck away with ketchup. Mustard only. #ThisIsNotAmateurHour
When I expressed my disbelief in this corn dog-sized hole in his heart (that was hitherto undiscovered) and my own love of corn dogs, he said, and I quote:
“I would’ve pegged you as anti-corn dog.”
A dagger. Like a dagger to the heart.
How can ANYONE be anti-corn dog? Is that even possible? I question the validity of the term itself.
And where on earth would he have gotten the anti-corn dog vibe?
This is not the first time I have run up against this sentiment. In my yoga teacher training, I routinely get asked for healthy recipes, and people there say they need to look at my blog when they are trying to eat something that is good for them.
Let’s go to the record: my last two recipes have been for cake and Nanaimo bars, a tooth-achingly sweet yet delicious concoction that serves very few and still manages to use an entire stick of butter in one of its three layers.
I make a coffee cake that uses two cups of sugar and an entire bar of cream cheese.
The book that I just wrote features more dessert recipes than any other kind in any other section. By a lot.
Yes, the things I create are gluten free. But health food? They are not.
So it seems fitting to set the record straight.
This is not a manifesto.
I believe in eating well.
I believe in fresh food, cooked with love.
I believe in butter, lots of it, and heavy cream. I also believe in full-fat cream cheese and whole milk.
I love sugar. I don’t believe in sugar substitutes. If you substitute agave for sugar, do it because agave has its own delicious taste, but don’t try to fool yourself into thinking it is magically better for you than regular sugar. #DittoHoney
I think everyone should be able to eat something delicious when they come to my house, regardless of their dietary restrictions. Sometimes this means limiting fat, salt, and sugar. These are instances in which I will do whatever I need to do to make a person feel welcome.
If something makes you feel bad, don’t eat it, and ignore the haters. #IAmLookingAtYouGlutenShamers
I am not above a box of macaroni and cheese. Nor am I below it. Mostly it is somewhere in the middle, right behind my navel.
I have eaten an entire bag of chips for dinner.
I don’t believe in diets. I don’t believe in dieting. I don’t believe in “cheat days.”
I believe in moderation in all things, including moderation (thanks, Oscar Wilde).
I believe that cooking and feeding people is an art that everyone should have access to. So stow your elitist bullshit (like the $20 fried pig’s tail – are YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME – currently on offer at a local nose-to-tail hipster place that I won’t name but should).
And I believe that when you go to the fair or a carnival, GET A FUCKING CORN DOG.
So. Mike. For you, here is a corn dog.
Mike Kendall’s First Corn Dog
Note: Because I believe good food should be affordable, I won’t always use organic things. GMOs are up for debate, and I will not enter the fray here. HOWEVER. Because hot dogs are generally made of, as my friend Luke says, lips and assholes, spend your money on good ones. Either go to a butcher you trust, or at least go kosher. I like Hebrew National (#SupportTheJews #MyFatherWouldBeProud) and Applegate’s uncured, no nitrates organic stadium dogs for both taste and texture. You can also use veggie dogs if you must; I used ToFurky’s vegan version of hot dog in testing.
1 1/4 cups buttermilk (OR, easy cheater way: Add one tablespoon of apple cider vinegar to 1 1/4 cups of milk and let sit for ten minutes. Proceed as directed. #BOOM)
Vegetable oil for frying (a nice big bottle. #Yum)
Method
I use an enameled cast-iron Dutch oven for frying. If you have a fryer, that works, too. Heat oil to 350 degrees. I aim for about three inches of oil in the pot; you may not need as much. You do, however, need to heat it to 350. #Trust
Mix dry ingredients together in a medium-sized bowl.
Mix wet ingredients in a small bowl. Add wet ingredients to dry and mix until there are no lumps (I like a whisk for this purpose. Don’t be gentle; it’s not a baby bunny.).
There are two ways to go about frying up some homemade fair food.
Easy way:
Cut hot dogs into 2-inch pieces and coat in flour. Dip into batter, then remove with a fork and drop into hot oil. Fry until golden brown, moving them around as needed to ensure crispy goodness all over. Use tongs or a spider to remove to paper towels to drain.
Less easy way (requires more attention and the purchase of sturdy skewers):
Pour batter into a tall drinking glass.
Skewer your hot dogs through the end almost all the way to the top. Roll hot dogs in flour to coat, then dip that dog into the batter.
Place in heated oil and fry that baby up until the outside is golden brown and delicious, about three minutes. Make sure to flip around in the oil so that all sides are brown.
Pro tip: As you lower the dogs into the oil, go slowly and swirl the top of the dog in the hot oil. This seals the batter so that it doesn’t fly off in all directions and looks more like fair corn dogs.
Remove from oil and place on paper towels to drain. Serve with mustard, or, begrudgingly, with ketchup.
I won’t lie: sriracha mayo is also delicious here, as is honey mustard.
Recipe notes
Leftover batter can be fried on its own and sprinkled with powdered sugar. Go for broke and top with a can of cherry pie filling or chocolate pudding and it’s like the fair has come to you.
Leftover batter also keeps in the ‘fridge for a day.
Add cayenne to your batter, a teaspoon or two, for a little spicy dog.