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.

Camp NaNoWriMo 2015!

Every November I take part in National Novel Writing Month, writing a truly horrendous first draft of a novel.

The same group also sponsors a "Camp" writing month in July, a little less structured but another chance to set a goal and hopefully achieve it. I haven't done the July challenge for a few years, but with my partner taking it on, well... why not?

So my goal is to write twenty lines of poetry each day in the month of July. I do not yet consider myself a poet, though I can throw down some haiku...

Maybe some of it will be non-heinous enough to share it.
(Probably not.)

If you'd like to join the fun, check out http://campnanowrimo.org/ .

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.

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.)

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.

Stop Making Sense*

11 PM on a Sunday night and I'm starting tomorrow's sourdough bread.

Bread making is not efficient. It takes hours and hours. Sourdough especially.
It's not the easiest of things either--it's persnickety and requires attention.

I could go to the store and for less than $5 get a lovely loaf--probably more consistent than my batches have been thus far. (Yes, my ingredients are less expensive. Until you add in the time and effort, and having to do dishes.)

It would be sensible enough for me to give up this hobby, to spend the time more appropriately--catching up on housekeeping, remembering the dry cleaning, becoming a well-rounded person, or you know, sleeping.

But sometimes life isn't about a direct goal or what is most efficient and obvious. You might need to follow a passion, to have a place for experiments and growth. It may or may not make sense on paper.

This is true of our church lives as well. For all that it's good to have a clear mission and a long-term plan, there will come opportunities, relationships, passions. I find that these often come as interruptions, often in the middle of a hectic afternoon/week/year. It may very well be more sensible to stay the course, to say "that's a lovely idea, but we don't have the capacity for it right now." To give the short greeting and have every intention of getting back to that person later. All the things that create community.

What is rising in your soul?



*Yep, I just referenced a thirty-year old Talking Heads movie. Goofball Gen-Xer...

True Reasons I Have Done Chores

I know there are people in the world who take pleasure in a clean house and the knowledge of a chore well done. 

Me, I can deal with a fair amount of chaos as long as I can find something I want to read, there's room for a nap, and I have some way to make coffee.

And then there are the motivating factors for doing my chores. Among them:

1) All my pajamas were in the dirty wash, and I really wanted a jama day.

Covered in warm laundry, 2/2/15

2) Someone on the Internet claimed I could easily clean my oven glass, and I had to prove their method wrong.

3) Laundry fresh from the dryer is an extra blanket of warmth. (This one works best when you can convince someone else to fetch the clothes from the dryer and dump them all over you.)

4) Procrastination. 

What motivates you to clean?

Sticking

 Sourdough experiments happen a couple of times a week right now. I'm finding that the Dutch over method gives a great crust--you leave the lid on the pot for the first half hour for an internal steam system, then remove the lid and let the top crust brown over a final fifteen minutes.

Here's the thing, though. Sourdough has this elastic nature. And the (enameled) cast iron takes on a lot of heat in that 450-degree oven.

Today, despite an oiling of the pot, the bread stuck. Like it seemed to be welded in there.

A variety of utensils, one burned palm and a couple burned knuckles, I managed to free most of the loaf from the pot.

That bit left behind was deliciously crisp, and was slathered with butter or olive oil and devoured while we waited for the rest of the boule to cool.

And I just learned that one does not pronounce the e in boule. It sort of rhymes with pool, and it means ball in French.

So, lessons for the day--

• Use more oil in the Dutch oven.  Seriously. Do not skimp.
• Patience would mean less burning of self.
• People may not even notice that there's a hole in the bottom of their bread, as long as it looks nice on the board.
• And even if it doesn't look nice, it's still fresh homemade bread.
• Boule--rhymes with pool.

Tradition and Innovation

Earlier this week I mentioned that I've gotten on the sourdough bandwagon.

Today I tried a very traditional application-a big ol' sourdough loaf with a fifteen-hour sponge stage, a five-hour proof, and baked off in a Dutch oven. The awesome crackly noise of this crust may be my greatest triumph of the week.

And I still needed to bake desserts for the lock-in my son is attending. Eighty-some teens and their adult chaperones, taking over a church for the weekend. Hmm...

Something quicker, please. And we have some special diets in the group, so what might I do with ingredients already in the house? Vegan banana bread! And my usual vegan chocolate cupcake recipe--I could make that gluten-free with the special mix I had in the pantry.

Within an hour I was done with these two recipes. My son reported that the cupcakes were sort of elastic. I tried one.  Yeaaah.  Sort of like a gummy worm. Hmm. Maybe it's the potato starch or the guar gum. Perhaps a reaction with the vinegar beyond the usual baking soda moment. Regardless of the chemistry, they still taste awesome.

Sometimes we go for tradition--using recipes and methods that our great-great-great grandmothers might have used way back when. Other times we try something very new, maybe taking a chance with something even our grandmothers couldn't have bought in any store. It might be for the sheer novelty of it, or it might be a deliberate choice to be more inclusive to whomever walks in the door.

May it be delicious!

Eating Our Mistakes

Ursula Vernon wrote this great post about the lessons of learning to throw clay pots, and then smashing the whoopses.

I haven't taken that pottery class yet, but I make plenty of whoopses. Often in the kitchen--where happily it's usually still edible, even if you might not serve it to company. 

These loaves are an attempt at upping the white wheat flour in French bread, making the bread a little closer to whole grain. They look pretty good, but they're DENSE. Why? Because it was a spur of the moment decision to bake, on a day when I didn't feel like going to the grocery store for the vital wheat gluten needed to amend the dough. I know better, but I just wanted it to work easily--as if my desires can affect the structure of bread. (Yes, I would LOVE to have superpowers that lend themselves to toast...) 

I'm getting better at making the best of my whoopses--in this case a smear of butter or jam goes a long way. 

Making Warmth

In real life I assure you, I am not much into crafting. But from time to time I get struck with the need to make something. Sometimes I even get through all the steps of considering the project, buying supplies, and DOING the thing.                                                                                                          Twenty-five or thirty years ago my grandmother took a quilting workshop and learned to make a quillow--a quilt that folds up into a pillow shape. My parents received a lovely brown and green quillow and it served them well for years. A few years ago Mom let me take it home with us, and we've enjoyed it... and then one of my sons put his foot through the aged fibers.  Oops. 

I have made exactly 0.56 quilts in my life--piecing makes me grumpy, and binding thwarted me completely. So making a true quillow was probably not going to happen.

But what about something fleecy? No need for batting, and it would feel so nice and soft... time for a trip to the craft store.

It was a mostly straightforward project, but there were a few wrinkles. Literally in some cases. I may have used colorful language once or thrice.

And now it is assembled, the two layers stitched tight, plus the pillow pocket doubling as a warm nest for feet. Winter, do your best.

All Things In Their Own Time

Prepping a brisket

I had a grand plan for Christmas day. A brisket would smoke on the grill in ten to twelve hours, the recipe told me. I woke up around 4 AM to get it started, so we could have an early dinner before I headed to the airport to pick up my parents.

Oops. Too big for the
grill, we divide it.

In actuality, the brisket still was not done when I got home from the airport. After another hour, I gave up, carved a close-to-tender chunk, and put the rest in the oven. In total, our brisket spent about 15.5 hours on the grill, and a combined seven hours in a low oven (200-225 degrees.)

Life can be full of variables we cannot fully control. Sometimes things just fall into place and other times it is a struggle. Patience helps, as do naps while someone else keeps an eye on things. 

In the end the brisket was delicious--something of a hybrid of barbecue and pot roast. No one minded that it had taken half of forever, or that the smokiness wasn't spot on, or that the combination of techniques gave it something of a corned beef taste and texture. And I've got some notes for next time, whenever that might be.

Easy Appetizer - Grilled Portabella Pizzas

Take one portabella per person. Clean gently, and pop the stem end off.  Brush the portabella caps with oil of choice (I smash a little garlic in the oil), salt, and set aside while the grill gets hot.

Meanwhile, saute the mushroom stems with whatever veggies you like--I used additional mushrooms and some Swiss chard, along with more garlic because DELICIOUS. 

Put the mushroom caps on the grill, starting gill side down. After a few minutes, flip those suckers, and lightly fill with those sauteed veggies*. Top with a few slices of good melty cheese. In this batch I had a lovely Scamorza, a smoked fresh mozzarella. Close the grill and in just a few minutes your cheese will be melted. If the mushrooms are not yet soft enough, move away from the heat. 

If desired, you can garnish with something a little acidic--fresh tomatoes, capers- the possibilities are endless.

We let them sit for a few minutes and then cut into wedges like a pizza.

*Sure, you can put some sauce in here. I just don't because it doesn't help things to stay together.

Hanukkah Experiment

It's Hanukkah!

Tonight I assigned one son to making the matzoh ball soup, the other to the latkes.

All went well and was coming together deliciously. And then secondborn called out, "Mom, I have an idea and I am asking permission."

Kudos to him for remembering to ask permission... turns out he wanted to wrap a matzoh ball in latke-goodness.

An intriguing concept, but not especially easy to put into action. The wet of the matzoh ball and the wet of the latke mixture are not necessarily going to stay together in the fryer, and potato strands tend to get brittle when they are cooked. Turnning the ball gradually at not letting it get too brittle caused some improvement, but as we went to pull it from the pan, it became a mound of hashbrowns with a matzoh ball soggily peeking out.

I only make latkes once a year, so this idea will need to stew for a good long time.

Crock Pot Potluck Time: Baked Ziti

Being a Nice Church Lady requires delegating and careful time management. This is especially true when there's a potluck lunch after Sunday service.

So I've taught my sons to cook, and I shamelessly call on the powers of my trusty Crock Pot. It can cook and it can hold things at a temperature for a good long time...but could it make a 'baked' ziti?

The answer is yes, more or less. You don't get a crusty cheese layer on top, but people are JUST FINE with a gooey layer, let me tell you.

Please note that I have a large slow cooker. If yours is not so big, you might want to halve the recipe.

BASIC INGREDIENTS

2 lbs. ziti

2 24 oz. cans spaghetti sauce of your choice (Yes, you can use homemade or jarred sauce. But this is easy and economical.)

1 pint tub of ricotta cheese (lowfat is fine)
1 lb. shredded mozzarella cheese

Cooking spray

You can add more ricotta if you like, and any number of other things--garlic, mushrooms, etc. 

The night before, or before assembling, boil the ziti in salted water until it is a little harder than al dente. (It will soften more in the slow cooker.) Drain and toss with ONE can of the pasta sauce.

When ready to assemble, mix together the ricotta and the remaining can of sauce. You can either stir this in with the pasta, or just layer it in the slow cooker.

BEFORE LOADING YOUR SLOW COOKER, SPRAY THAT SUCKER WITH SOME COOKING SPRAY. Unless you like soaking and scrubbing the thing. Or use those plastic liners.

Put about a third of the pasta and sauce in the pot, then sprinkle a couple handfuls of cheese on top. Add another third of the pasta and sauce, and more cheese. Finish with the pasta and sauce, and a generous bunch of cheese on top. You might or might not use all of the cheese.

Cover the pot and set it on high until the cheese is looking melty and the top is steamy, then switch to low. (If you're going to have this sitting for six hours, I'd probably do it on low the whole time.)

When it's potluck time, just take off the lid and insert a serving spoon.

LardQuest 2014!

For about ten years, I've made tamales with my friend Jo, and she has been in charge of the masa--the freshly ground corn and fat mixture critical to a good fluffy tamale. See, the butcher at her local Fiesta grocery store had this beautiful freshly rendered lard.

But Jo moved this year, and while the Fiesta near her new house had the freshly ground masa and the corn husks and the spices, they didn't have the lard.

No problem, I said. I would go to the Fiesta near me!  I put a cooler in my car and headed over.

Guess what? They didn't have it either. They had processed stuff in tubs and in boxes, and the stuff they used for frying chicharrones. NOT what we were looking for.

Over the next few days I stopped at nearly a dozen grocers, meat markets, and specialty places, plus calling a few more. Not only could I not find what I was looking for, but the butchers had NO IDEA what I was talking about. Jo sent her husband to the trusty old location and they, too, claimed ignorance. 

When we were searching concurrently, we were texting updates to one another. My favorite? Jo sent "DO NOT BUY COMPROMISE LARD."

We began to doubt our sanity, or at least our memories. We wondered if there was some sort of Lard Conspiracy, where we'd gotten underground lard in years past, and now we were too much a risk to get access to the precious goods? We checked the FDA and USDA websites to see if there were new regulations for the production and marketing of lard, but nothing obvious popped up.*

When we finally met up, we tried a few more places, and when a nice lady at the meat market suggested a grocery store on the south side of town, we made our way there late that night, hoping it was still open. It was, and yet again, they did not have the fresh stuff. 

We were out of time--the tamalada was the next morning. With heavy sighs we grabbed the tubbed processed lard. The compromise lard.

In the end, it worked fine. The texture was a bit different, so we made some adjustments. And heck, we had two brand new folks working with us--this was all they knew.  

We try hard for perfection. Especially when it involves our beloved traditions, and the things we know we do well. Taking a short cut or settling for something less? It seems unthinkable. And yet sometimes it is the sensible choice--saving us hours (and gas money) and some peace of mind.  
And as I say every year, even an ugly tamale is a delicious tamale. 

*Don't think I'm done trying to figure out this mystery.

Done!

I submitted my 2014 National Novel Writing Month project this evening, so woot, that's done. 

Most years I have an elaborate strategy of front-loading the month so I have plenty of cushion for those days when life happens and words are the last of my possibilities.

This year I determined to just stick to the minimal 1667 words per day, every day.

And it worked for about five days. Then, you know, life.

The good news is, it's quite possible to do ginormous catching up at the end of the month, especially once the Thanksgiving meal is cooked and there are leftovers available. I recommend a token economy of a small piece of pie for every two thousand words.

Now I can get back to blog posts of more than twenty words, more than five minutes.

Making It Work

If you're going to be on a webcam, it's important to have the camera at an appropriate level. I like to put it just above my line of sight.

On days when I am going to be on my webcam while say, making the caramelized onions for Thanksgiving green beans, I need to set up the computer rig in the kitchen. Cookbooks help elevate things.

And then the onions make me cry. Oops--should have seen that one coming.

And then the connection isn't strong enough to get things running smoothly...

So I end up across the house where there's a direct plug to the interwebs...dashing back and forth to stir the onions occasionally.

(They were delicious.)

Experi-fail, Thanksgiving Edition

I posted the other day about deciding to grill/smoke a turkey. Today I did the trial run.

The turkey was edible, and there was a certain novelty, but all in all, it was not a triumph.

• It was rather a lot of work, including some butchery that was more than my kitchen shears and small hands could take on easily.
• The smoke flavor was mild in the dark meat, and completely absent from the breast meat.
• There were next to no drippings in the water pan I set up for that purpose, so I had to use the 'gravy bag' that comes with the turkey*. Meh.

As far as experiments go, I'm calling this one a fail, as it did not give me a viable option for Thanksgiving Day. I have many ideas of how it might be improved upon, if I have another low-risk opportunity to do the experiment again (work with turkey parts, adjust temps, start with boiling water in the drip pan to increase moisture in the system...) - but for the big day, I will stick with the tried and true.

*It turns out that my sons love that over-processed stuff the gravy bag makes. They claim it tastes like a pot pie.