What can I eat so I can eat cheese

One of the first recipes I ever made was a risotto from Nigel Slater’s Real Cooking (my first cookbook, actually).  With all the fretting and insecurity over letting the risotto boil too hard and cooking the rice to al dente (yes, you can read some pretension into that italicization, not to be attributed to Nigel however), it was a laborious two hours.  Since then I’ve whittled down the process to half an hour, I let the broth probably boil too hard, and I still don’t know if I’ve cooked the rice to it’s appropriate tenderness, but it doesn’t really matter:  I am still brimmed with private joy when I make something to eat for just myself, which was one of the reasons I got hooked into making food in the first place.  The cycle of nourishment, the transformation of ingredients to a meal…mmm, fuzzies!

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And, I get to eat more parmesan.

Happy happy

Sometimes when I see someone in an outfit that is entirely unflattering, I can’t decide whether to think, “Good for them, throwing caution to the wind, wearing what they want, huzzah!” or sending them telepathic memos to reconsider their wardrobe choices.  And when I consider posting a photo of my lunch (which became dinner, and lunch for the next day, actually), I’m torn between feelings of reprehensible egomania and a refined appreciation for the mundanities of life, though I’m not entirely sure that I’ve just convinced myself of the latter, in which case it is a perversed notion, symptomatic of the former…

Regardless, I forage on.  People continue to make questionable fashion statements, I continue to assert my self-worth through gastronomic avenues.

I was pretty happy about this meal, because it used up old bits of food cowering in the fridge (apparently a common pastime of mine, such fun!), and it also meant I got to eat my newly bought triangle of REAL parmigiano reggiano, not the sawdust Kraft business that I grew up with, sprinkled on tomato sauce like dandruff on a black sweatered shoulder (not that there’s anything wrong with that). Along with the shavings of parmesan, there were fresh parsley sprigs and a sprinkling of kale chips (roughly chopped kale tossed in olive oil and salt and baked at 350 F for about 20 minutes until kkkrispy).  All of this blanketed a split mung bean stew/soup thing (stoup?) with some carrots, onions, and a careless array of spices ranging from garam masala to fennel seeds.  The soft, soporific mung beans were awakened by the krispy kale and sharp bite of cheese.  Parsley made everyone involved happy.

And who cares about how that outfit looks, if you are happy?

Old(er)

My birthday is just around the corner.  I’m actually rather relieved to be older (goodbye youthful angst, hello tenant insurance and phone bills), though there are panicked moments of existential turmoil (“Oh gawd, what am I doing with my life???”).  But really, it’s just another day. 

And, there’s cake.

Someone once told me that it’s bad luck to make your own birthday cake, and maybe it was just a delicate way of saying it’s kind of pathetic, but I don’t care, a party for one is fine by me.  I’ve always strongly believed that cooking for yourself is very important as a potent form of self-love, and if one’s birthday is about me me me…

I’ve also had a hankering to make Nigel Slater’s chocolate beetroot cake from his book Tender (hm, I appear to have a penchant for food writers whose names include “Nigel” in it, see the Chocolate Gingerbread for evidence).

Anyhow, it turned out great.  I had it with some ricotta schmeared on top, and the graininess of the cheese was a nice compliment to the moist, velvety cake.

Another year.  We’ll see what happens next.

Away

Traveling is always interesting on the gastrointestinal system.  New place, new food.  Constipation.  Poopsies.  The psychology of fast food chain restaurants is that it is a source of comfort to eat the same food that you find at home when you are away from home.  So I guess the bowel movements can stay regular.

I kind of relish getting to eat differently when I’m away.  Going to restaurants, not having to deal with the mess bomb that exploded in my kitchen after I make a meal…it’s a treat. And I enjoy the kitsch of being served ice cream scoops of tuna AND chicken salad bolstered with boulders of melon…

Still, there’s nothing like a good ol’ homecooked food.

Mmmmoist.

Baking is like alchemy.  You mix a bunch of things together, put it in the oven, and it bakes into a delicious, soft, mmmoist little item, and then you give it to your friends and they eat it and like it and really like you because of it and it’s all peaches and sunshine and wildflowers.  Baking is great.

I decided to make chocolate gingerbread because I wanted to use up a shriveled little knob of fresh ginger that had been getting lonely in my kitchen.  And baking is a positive form of procrastination.  I looked up Nigella Lawson’s chocolate gingerbread recipe in her book Feast, and since I like to bastardize recipes and am too lazy and petulant to get all the ingredients, I took what she said and came up with something that worked with what I had.  Now, usually I’m like an old granny about recipes and rather protective about them….so be VERY CAREFUL about who you share this with and carefully consider if they are worthy of handling such monumental information.

Chocolate Gingerbread

1/2 c. butter
1 1/4 c. brown sugar
1/4 c. white sugar
3/4 c. molasses
1 tsp. cinnamon
2 tsp. ginger
1 knob of fresh ginger, grated
2 tsp ground flax
2 c. water
2 c. all-purpose flour
1 1/2 tsp baking powder
1/3 c. cocoa powder
pinch salt

Melt the butter (mm, buttahhhh).  While this is happening, mix together the ground flax with water in a little bowl, and then mix together the dry ingredients in a big bowl.  When the butter is melted, turn the heat off and mix in the sugars, molasses, and spices.  Add the butter mixture and flax-y water to the dry ingredients and mix gently.  Pour into greased pan.  (If you are momentarily caught in a whiff of slightly misguided aesthetic inspiration like I was, sprinkle over bits of clove, pumpkin seeds, and graham cracker crumbs on top.  The pumpkin seeds and graham cracker will be nice, but biting into a piece of clove will be not so nice….)  Bake at 350 F in a greased pan until it looks dry on top, maybe 45 minutes or so.  If all goes well, your chocolate gingerbread will turn out moist, dense, dark, and sexy.  Mm.  Yeah.

It was so enticing that I couldn’t wait for myself to get organized to take a photo before serving myself a slice…

Squish squash

So in case you were wondering, I eat more than just muffins.  I eat a lot of soup too, especially when it gets colder outside.  In fact maybe my pseudonym should be the Soup Lady…but that conjures up an image of a large, brawny woman with a tight bun of hair and forearms the size of footballs schlopping out servings of dank watery broth in an Oliver Twistian sort of way.  I don’t know if that’s really something to aspire to…

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Think pink!

Ah, pink.  The colour of Barbie, Pepto-Bismol, and ambiguously gay men.  The sibling of red, the half-cousin of purple.  There’s something about pink that makes me shudder with disgust and yet gives me a sense of perpetual cheeriness.

Luckily, the thought of pink food tends to give me the giggles.  A few weeks ago as a final hoo-hah to summer, I whizzed together a sort of cold soup: frozen strawberries, a frozen banana, chocolate almond milk, and a schloop of cream. So exciting I missed the bowl and poured half of it on the counter.

The perkiness of pink has continued to give me the tickles as the weather has gotten colder.  Beets and bocconcini…fuchsia food is the best kind of food.

Think pink!

It can’t be sunny everyday

While I like to maintain the image of effortless perfection and grace, sometimes things don’t go as they are planned. Like lemon muffins. This is my third attempt thusfar at making lemon poppyseed gluten free muffins. I forget what happened the first time. Must have smothered it in my memory bank. The second time, the tops got all white and dry. I had a feeling that the acid from the lemon juice was interfering with starch hydration and causing some sort of separation, so this time I just added the zest to the batter with the intention of pouring a lemon glaze (lemon juice+icing sugar) over the muffins as they were cooling. What a brain wave eh? I thought I was the cat’s whiskers when I thought of that idea.

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