Mmmm Monday: Holiday Food

Most Mondays I'll post something about what we've been cooking. This is a monster entry, as we've had quite the adventures...

My work slows down a bit after Christmas Eve and we stayed home, so there was plenty of opportunity to cook, smoke, grill, and bake this holiday season. My parents visited, so more mouths to feed and more ideas to consider.

Here's a non-exhaustive (but somewhat exhausting) list:

Holiday cookies: My usual toffee bars, and a new chocolate cookie dough recipe, half with peanut butter chips and half with Andes candies

Hot cocoa mix, for gifting and home use

Christmas Eve: 
Tamales (traditional pork and king ranch chicken, prepared at our annual tamalada in November) with chili gravy, queso, and guacamole

Christmas Day breakfast (above): 
Panettone Strawberry-chocolate chip bread pudding
Eggs Benedict (which turned into queso eggs, as I made the hollandaise too soon, and it broke miserably)

Christmas Dinner: 
Ribeye roast (dry-brined forty-eight hours in advance, it was gloriously juicy and beefy. But that juiciness meant that there were very few drippings, so no au jus or Yorkshire puddings) 
with fluffy rolls, mashed potatoes, sherried mushrooms, roasted root vegetables, and roasted Brussels sprouts

Monday, December 28: Pork shoulder smoked on our gas grill - we did two of them--totally overkill. So much meat in my freezer...

Tuesday: Batch of charro beans, with some of the pulled pork

Wednesday, December 30: 12-hour brisket smoked on our gas grill - we took the advice to wrap it in a double layer of foil when it hit 150 degrees, pushing it through the "stall" that  can last for hours. Next time I'll mess with unwrapping it later, so we get the bark back. Math: a 14-lb brisket gave about six pounds of sliced meat, and we cooked down the fat cap for about a pound of "brisket bits" and a pint or so of brisket fat. The bits are a quick pop of flavor in just about anything, and a dab of the fat gives a deep base for soup, onions, etc.

Pies: I meant to make pie for Christmas, but it was eighty degrees here. So we had New Year's Eve pie. Pumpkin and cherry-blueberry. 
I made my first lard crusts from the lard I rendered for tamales--they came out flaky, but were a bit thick and needed more salt. (I tasted the porkiness, but no one else mentioned it...)

Chex Mix. Because holidays require Chex Mix.

New Year's Eve ended up being something of a repeat of Christmas Eve, menu-wise, with the addition of a cheese slate and the grape leaves a friend brought over. (Tamale course was beef tamales and roasted garlic&cheese tamales.)

New Year's Day I decided the charro beans were close enough to black-eyed peas, and the coleslaw would count for greens. So we just made a cornbread--spouse found the hidden penny.

Using up the pork was an adventure all its own, as I don't really eat non-bacon pork. So I became a pork pusher, setting out hashes, salsa-infused pork and rice (thank you, rice cooker), a penne with pork and red sauce, and a giant tray of pork nachos.



Since I'm always encouraging my sons to cook, I got them tools and kits for mushroom ravioli this year. Firstborn has oyster mushrooms growing upstairs, and secondborn opened his cheese-making kit yesterday. He made his first batch of mozzarella (yum!) and I used the whey to make a ridiculously small amount of ricotta. I think I'll go for whole milk ricotta next time. 


This morning's experiment was looking for a use for a package of bacon rind (not the fried stuff) a friend got with her half-hog purchase. I'd found this recipe online, and it seemed simple enough. In reality, I think it was meant for more delicate rind, if there is such a thing- ours turned into shards of pain. Breaking a tooth is never a good adventure, so the remainder of the rind was cut into squares for the stock pot. Spouse will have many flavorful pots of soup and beans over the winter.

A last experiment for the holiday was a batch of rolls, using some of the whey from yesterday's cheese as the liquid. YUM! I accidentally duplicated a taste from a long-closed restaurant nearby. (Good Eats at Wilcrest and Westheimer.) 

Tomorrow is back to a full work schedule and the kids are back to school. The good news is, the freezer is full of food for easy dinners in the month (or three) ahead.

If You Give A Katy A Cookie...

If you give me a cookie, I'll probably want a cup of coffee.

As I fix that cup of coffee, I might spill the half & half. In today's episode, I might drop the bottle, splashing half of it on the counter, down the cabinet doors, to pool on the anti-fatigue mat and floor.

I wiped up the kitchen mess and took the mat outside to spray clean. Only the garden hose was disconnected from the bib, so I had to figure that out.

Then I remembered that the new perennials needed watering.

Coming in the house, I discovered drips in the hallway. I handled that, too.

All said, it took twenty minutes to get back to my coffee. 

By then, I was ready for another cookie.

Vice Loss

May was a bit of a rough health month, when swollen tonsils went to strep and then I found that I couldn't swallow very well. It was not so much painful as uncomfortable. And worrisome.

At its worst, I spent a week or so living on smoothies, pureed soups, ice cream, and when I was feeling wild, completely smashed guacamole with goat cheese.

By the time I could get an appointment at an ENT clinic, I needed answers badly enough that I was looking forward to someone sticking a scope up my nose and down my throat. 

The findings were not the worst case scenarios I'd been imagining, but now I have daily meds. And vast dietary restrictions.

• No caffeine (coffee, tea... even chocolate*)
• No carbonated beverages
• No citrus, tomato, or other acidic foods
• No spicy food
• No fried or greasy food, and watch fat consumption (even avocados*)
• No mint
• No alcohol

I like to think that I have not been whining too much. Definitely not as much as I could be, but honestly, too much talking leaves me hoarse.

*I can be strict on most things, but when it comes to chocolate and avocado, I'm going with a steadfast attitude of moderation.

Returns on Investments

If I buy groceries and provide a recipe, the teens can make dinner. In this case, the mushroom bisque from Cook's Illustrated, and roasted parsnips, carrots, and Brussels sprouts. (The beige thing next to the soup is store-bought garlic bread. It was, by far, the least delicious thing on the plate.)

Granted, by the time I was their age, I could (and did) make meals for the family.

But now there is Google. The boys can research recipes and come up with their own ideas. And they also have a grocery store within a mile--many more possibilities than back in my day.

They still have lots of questions and need a certain amount of guidance. And granted, the texture of the bisque wasn't QUITE as smooth as I'd make it, and the Brussels got a bit crispier than I'd like.  And yet, I didn't have to do any of it.

Not even dishes.

And later, one of them brought me a dish of ice cream.

A Matter of Taste

I'm on day four of antibiotics (strep throat) and everything tastes yuck. Metallic and bitter and chemical-ish. Sour Patch Kids help some.

Four days down, six to go. I can handle this, though I have been whining.

But what about someone on chemotherapy, taste affected for months and months? 

Apparently miracle fruit may help, according to a small study and some testimonials and marketing on behalf of the fruit farmers. I've known a number of people who swore by pickles. The internet is full of tricks, few of which end up on the dieticians' lists of healthy choices. But considering the risks of cancer and chemo, pickles (or Bailey's Irish cream, or Sour Patch Kids) seem fairly sensible.

Yum.

Chocolate lava cake.

Cake on the outside, free-flowing rich chocolate inside... it seems magical, but really it's just a matter of timing and temperature.

My son made these today and they were amazing. It's a good trick to have in your pocket, I told him, something both delicious and a little mysterious.

We all have our little tricks. Ways to impress someone, or to make a rough day a little easier, or a Plan C (X?) in case of a flop. These days, I'm told, they're called life hacks.

Whatever, they're delicious.

The Spicy Soup Protocol

Meh.
My throat hurts and my ears ache and my tonsils are probably huge.
(I'm too whiny and lazy to find a flashlight and look in the mirror.)

Given that it's allergy season and contractors made big holes in my house today, it's reasonable to start with the assumption that it is allergies. But just in case, I'm pushing fluids and started my Spicy Soup Protocol.

In my experience, almost any spicy soup will help--clears the congestion, is tasty even when I can't smell, and keeps my mind off things.

The must-haves are pho tai (all the condiments) and tortilla soup.
Seaweed-eggdrop soup works well if you put enough pepper oil in it.

What would go on your Spicy Soup rotation?

Alchemy

Born and raised in Wisconsin, I take my melted cheese seriously.

This week I got a bag of sodium citrate, AKA, Magic Queso Maker.

Heat up the liquid of your choice, add just a bit of this food grade salt, and then the shredded or sliced cheese of your choice. Even the crumbliest, crackliest of cheddars will melt smoothly, rather than turning into an oily and grainy concrete. You can do this in five minutes in a regular saucepan, or even with a microwave--no need to unpack the fondue pot from that cluttered cabinet above the fridge.

I'm not going to get too much into the molecular gastronomy/modernist terminology, but sodium citrate acts as an emulsifier, helping things to combine rather than separate.

It's been a week of rough news--painful demonstrations around the funeral of Freddie Gray in Baltimore, the earthquakes in Nepal, yet another school shooting, and the usual confluences of snarky partisanship and reactive fear.

It would be reasonable enough to want to distract ourselves with melted cheese and go no further. But how can I, how can we, act as an emulsifier to bring people together, to combine creatively?

I do not claim to have all (or even a hefty minority) of the answers, but I continue to listen, to look for opportunities to engage, and to boost signals.

And maybe I'll bring queso.

Life Messier Than Toys

Remember those sticky rubber octupi toys? You could throw them at the wall and they would stick and tumble their way down.

It turns out that a dollop of cream cheese-based dip will do the same thing.  Messily.

As I knelt down to clean the counter and the cupboard and the floor, I noticed the tiny drop off to the side--this picture doesn't do it justice, but it looked like a lovely little leaf.

Maybe Next Year

My partner sent me an email today. "Hey! Passover starts today."

I sent back a quick, "Yeah, I'm not going to get around to that this year. Good thing you bought yourself (half-sour) pickles."

Seriously. Store-bought pickles are the closest I'm getting to doing a Seder this year.

Easter's only happening because my mother's in town and we already had a turkey in the freezer. But there will be no dyeing of eggs, no carefully arranged baskets, and no way will I attend sunrise service, even though it's half a mile from my house.

I'm a Sunday School director, so there will be some amount of Happy Bunny Land at work.

Getting back to 'normal' is hard work. Getting to full holiday observances? Another mountain entirely.

Peach Yogurt

Antibiotics, like most of life, have unforeseen consequences. While it kills off an infection, the antibiotic is also attacking the 'good' flora a body needs. This is especially true when using broad-spectrum antibiotics.

While waiting on lab cultures*, my son's treatment plan involved three different broad-spectrum antibiotics. As soon as he was allowed to eat, I asked the nurse if we could get some yogurt.

She asked his preferred flavor and put in an order for peach yogurt. Even though it was 10 AM, peach yogurt appeared. The nurse explained that when a meal order card came up, I could write in a request for yogurt with each meal.

As it turned out, there was never a need--the cafeteria sent two peach yogurts with each meal.

Six yogurts a day. For seven days. Requesting a different flavor did not take.

Forty-two peach yogurts.

We've been home most of a week and there are still a few yogurts left. We'll see if he ever requests a peach yogurt again.

*Invasive Group A Strep in the bloodstream, in this case. Yes, antibiotics were very necessary and we were glad when they could get a more directed plan of treatment.

Closing In On Normal

We got home from the hospital on Monday.
Today my son went back to school, surprising all of us by making it through an entire day.
I spent more than a couple of hours in the office, though I did not make it through the whole day, because the Mom Job is still expecting overtime.

We are not yet fully unpacked. I know I haven't put away my clean laundry or found any number of things.

But I am getting back to normal in a different way--I've started tomorrow's sourdough. Or at least an attempt-we'll see how the starter survived my absence. It did not get fed as regularly as I would have liked, and the containers should have been scraped and washed. But it was something I could delegate in a week when I was needed elsewhere.

I am hopeful that tomorrow we'll have a true boule (water, starter, flour, salt) as well as a brown sugar oatmeal bread.

Piety

Tomorrow is the Pi day of the century*, so tonight I must evangelize.

I wholeheartedly encourage every last one of you to eat at least one piece of pie tomorrow.

What is a pie, you ask?  Well, I believe in the inherent worth of all pie, and in each defining the label as they see fit. 

Be they sweet, or be they savory
Have they two crusts, one crust, or no crust at all!
Might they be baked or cooked, or even raw!

From a pan, casserole, or baking sheet- round, square, free-form.
May they fit in one person's hand, or feed a multitude

Note: This quick concept map does not begin to mention the many fine hand pies found in nearly every culture. Empanadas, pasties, samosas, tiropita...oh the drools...

I understand that some of you will find in my beliefs certain heresies.
A cobbler or a casserole? You consider those to be something else entirely. Delicious, but not pies.

But I believe that pie should be denied to no person, no matter if they have celiac disease or gave up sugar for Lent or are simply fussy. Maybe they just want some creme brulee.

I will not say no to them.
I will be too busy eating pie.

Tomorrow's pie plan:
Breakfast: Peach cobbler and a crustless quiche (smoked salmon and cream cheese)
Lunch: Little Caesars bacon-wrapped pizza
Supper: Strawberry-rhubarb pie and a corned beef shepherd's pie
And remember all--3/14 is Einstein's birthday. He expanded our understandings of the universe. Surely we can expand our understandings of pie?


*3/14/15 (esp. around 9:26:53) reflects the first ten digits of pi.

Ratios

Let's say that you want a treat. 

We start with this recipe for a brownie in a mug. It does not suck. Not one bit.

But I don't want to be hit over the head with sweetness, so I reduced the brown sugar by a half. And added a little vanilla and a pinch of salt. Yum. Even better.

What happens if you add more milk? You get more of a pudding cake- a semi-solid hot chocolate. 

There is no one right way to make a brownie. 

Note: I did not put a picture with this entry because I am being kind to you.
Or maybe because I already ate tonight's experiment.

Play With Your Food!

My partner has been doing the low-carb thing. I'm still making bread once or thrice a week, but I'm also cooking an awful lot of veggies. 

It's an excellent opportunity to get our vitamins and do some experimenting, so I'm not complaining. (Also, more bread for me.)

Tonight we had a bunch of stir-fried veggies. Have you ever come across a heart of bok choy that looked this Seussian? I knew I had to pause and take a picture.

But when I turned the bok choy in the light, I was inspired in quite another way. I grabbed a toothpick and did a little strategic pointillism. Dabbed a little soy sauce over my work and ba-da-bing... 

Bok choy Groot!

Yes, I enjoy playing with my food. Sometimes it's making a savoury dish look like a sweet one, or using unexpected spice and flavor combinations.

And sometimes it's just whimsy.

Either way, I recommend it.


(No, we did not eat Groot. I trimmed the bottom and he's sitting in water. I'll let you know if we can successfully root Groot.)

The Smartest Thing I Ever Did As A Parent...

...was letting my children know that risotto is an impressive and delicious dish.

Even when they required a step ladder to reach the stove top, they would happily take turns stirring the pot, adding ladles of stock as needed. Secondborn, especially, was eager to learn to make the dish all by himself. It's pretty awesome when someone else makes dinner*.

With broth in the freezer or pantry, we always have the basics handy. And it turns out that risotto can be a vehicle for any number of unfamiliar things--squashes, greens, and cheeses sharper than they'd usually choose. 

We just made a big batch with butternut squash, mushrooms, and Manchego.
Tomorrow's dinner is done.


*When the boys go off to college, I might try some baked risotto recipes. For now, this works.

Breakfast and Transformation

Behold - a farm fresh egg, gently fried, served over cheese grits, with a big dot of chipotle Cholula.

Whenever I can, this is what I make for breakfast. Isn't it lovely?

Of course, lovely doesn't get us fed.

The dish becomes delicious when I break the yolk and stir everything together. 

At that point it is far less aesthetically pleasing.                        Indeed, it is MESSY.

Delicious is often messy.

This is true not only of food, but of community. Especially religious community.

If we all showed up pretty and sat carefully and kept to ourselves, we might make a glossy postcard.

But we would miss out on shared talents and sorrows, wisdom and gut-expanding laughter.

Take a chance. Get messy. Be transformed and be delicious.

Fake It 'Til You Make It

On my day off I considered making a true laminated dough--basically, you get a bunch of butter to fifty-five degrees and pound it into flat sheet. Then you roll out your bread dough to be twice that size. Make a butter sandwich. Then you take on a series of rolling and folding and chilling steps, multiplying your layers of butter and dough with each set.

Then there's shaping and proofing and when you finally bake off the dough, not only do you get exquisite richness from the butter, but you get an airy crumb as those layers become distinct.

It takes hours, on top of the hours already involved in the basic dough*. 

I am not that patient. Especially not on my lazy day.

So I faked the process to produce this swirly cinnamon bread.

I rolled out the dough, spread a layer of room temperature butter, sprinkled with a little brown sugar and a generous sprinkling of good cinnamon, and then folded the dough in thirds like a letter.

I turned the dough ninety degrees, rolled it out, and repeated the process with another smear of butter, more brown sugar, more cinnamon. I did this probably four or five times.

No whacking butter, no chilling stages. Maybe fifteen minutes of work total. 

When I was tired of folding, I put the dough into a greased glass pan, and let it proof once more.

Baked it off in a 375 degree oven and was rewarded with this deliciousness.

At least once in my life I will likely do the full lamination thing, if for no other reason than I want to be able to say that I made pain au chocolat.

Until then, well, no one complains when cinnamon bread shows up. 

*My basic dough ingredients these days are something roughly like this:
1.5 cups warm water
1 cup sourdough starter
1/2 t. yeast
2 c. bread flour + extra
1-2 T. salt
1.5 c. whole wheat or white wheat flour
Sometimes I put in a couple tablespoons of oil.

This batch was split between the cinnamon bread and dinner rolls, so I did not put any sugar in the dough. Otherwise, I might have.

Dessert

I just finished a pretty darned good chocolate lava cake. DARK chocolate, not sweet, gooey, and pretty much no work for me. I preheated the toaster oven and put the disk on a tray. Fifteen minutes later, yum yum yum. 

Oh Trader Joes, your freezer aisles contain so many blessings!

(I assure you, I got some real food there, too. The heirloom tomatoes are amazing, and the haricot vert increase my chance of getting a veggie on the dinner table.)

Making Home

I'm a lousy housekeeper. I don't necessarily notice messes, and even when I see them, well, I'd rather read a book than tidy things.

But I am not without some domestic graces. I can cook and bake up a storm, and generally I can keep us in clean clothes and such.

Today was my day off from church work. I relaxed most of the morning, and then managed the following:

• Hard boiled eggs (14 of them did not make their own sculpture in the boiling water)
• Sourdough, transformed into rolls for dinner, and this many-layered cinnamon bread
• Pinto beans, cooked up from scratch, which were then split between charro beans and venison chili
• Delish Swiss chard (because there has to be some vegetable to counter the cinnamon bread...)
• Two loads of laundry, washed and folded

And I managed to have conversations with everyone I live with.  Bills and paperwork (and tidying) will wait for another day.