Mushy Food. And how NOT to use a blender.

The holiday rush is nearly over! In the spirit of the season I've eaten lots of turkey, and have consumed more sweets than I'd care to admit. This morning, the game changed. Steve had his wisdom teeth removed.

Have you had your wisdom teeth out? I had mine out in high school and it was a fairly miserable experience. Apart from the pain, I think the food monotony was the most irritating part of the ordeal. After five days of mashed potatoes and boxed chicken broth, I was delirious for good food. In hopes of giving Steve a better recovery experience, I've been making culinary preparations for some time now. I brainstormed about mushy foods that would simultaneously deliver nutrients, and came up with a sizable from-scratch list. Applesauce, banana pudding, pureed vegetable soups, creamy polenta with rosemary...  I relished the thought of demonstrating my concern through a delicious array of foods that Steve would want to eat even if he hadn't just had his wisdom teeth pulled.

And then life happened. I got Steve home and almost instantly felt under-prepared to take care of him. During a brief pause I made applesauce from scratch, using the blender I got from my Grandma for Christmas. Unfortunately I learned how NOT to operate it, and the adventure ended with a quarter inch of applesauce on the counter. I sighed, left the mess, and headed to the grocery store so Steve could have something other than dairy in his stomach.

I quickly learned that the important thing is to take care of Steve not dazzle him with my soft-food expertise. Honestly, I've never been solely responsible for nursing someone back to health. It's a humbling experience that makes me realize it's a really tough job. I feel like I've been running around, I forgot to eat, and I didn't get a shower until 6pm. Yet, I know that compared to the average caregiver my day was a walk in the park. I wish I could give my mom and dad medals for all the times they took care of me when I was sick. Actually, I wish I could give all moms, dads, relatives, and caregivers medals for the hard work they do. But maybe they'd appreciate a hot meal and a comfy chair more. I know I would.      

On Soul Searching and Stroganoff

Recently, I had a freak out. Not a large one, mind you. Call it a medium-sized existential bump in the road. It left me feeling cold, lost, and like an identical snowflake rather than a special, individual one. I started thinking about being un-extraordinary, and quickly became overwhelmed by how (gasp) normal I am. I haven't started up a company, or become famous, won awards, or made filthy amounts of money garnering me a life of leisure. So what am I doing with my life, exactly? This equated to:

My life - incredible achievements = pointless

Leave it to Steve to bring reason into my excessively emotional and hyperbolic equation.  He proved through the transitive property (remember that guy? if a=b and b=c then a=c):

If  My life = Our friends' lives

And Our friends' lives - incredible achievements = awe inspiring, important 

Then My life - incredible achievements = awe inspiring, important

It made sense. It's the transitive property for pete's sake. Even though they are (gasp) normal, my friends are incredible. They are important to me and have made a huge difference in who and what I am. They inspire me to be a better person. And we're all on our way to Somewhere. Shouldn't I grant myself the same appreciation I have for my friends? So after I finished blubbering, Steve asked "What do you want to do tonight?"

"I want to have friends over for dinner." Some friends were heading out of town the next day. They had mentioned their fridge was nearly empty in preparation for their trip. They'd be stressed from packing, and a hot, home cooked meal would probably be low on their priority list. Obvious candidates. We looked around our kitchen and that magic happened where an unplanned meal falls into place, like when clouds clear up and you see the sunset that's been hiding the whole time. Baked brie with Ficoco and crackers, salad, and mushroom stroganoff.

We had a great dinner and I once again felt comfortable with my place in life. The world felt warm and bright, and small. As though I could be friends with anyone and everyone if they would just come over for dinner. 

Caramel Chocolate Almond Tart and A Cautionary Tale

Tart!

I am, of course, referring to the buttery crispy vessel for homemade ganache and caramel. You know I'd never call you a hussy (p.s. that top looks great on you.) I've been eying this tart recipe from Bon Appétit for a while now. Plus, my sister recently surprised me with a removable bottom tart pan that I've been itching to try out. I've never made a tart before, but clearly providence was telling me to do so.  As I try to listen to My Destiny whenever possible if only to avoid making decisions, I made the tart for a dinner with a group of friends. It was incredible, and I was really impressed with myself. The process was a little labor intensive, but the end product was well worth it. I thought it was fun to watch the layers come together, and the tart looks beautiful when sliced and on a plate.

Did I mention the layers? The nuts (I used almonds) mingled perfectly with the ganache to form a bed for the caramel. And don't let making the caramel scare you away from the recipe. Bon Appétit provides easy to follow instructions that will have you swimming in caramel faster than you'd ever believe. They're not kidding when they say to occasionally brush the sides of the pan down with a wet pastry brush. Listen to them. They know. Also, I may or may not have screamed a little when the pan instantly foamed up after I added the heavy cream and butter. (It was an impressive amount of foam. No, really! And I startle easily, just ask Steve. What I'm trying to say here is) Don't be afraid of the foam. It all turns out in the end.

A warning: If you're like me and you've never used a removable bottom tart pan before, be very careful. Yesterday marked my first kitchen accident which simultaneously wrecked my work and left me slightly injured.  I pulled the tart shell out of the oven, deliberating over whether or not to bake it longer as some parts were golden and others weren't.  I hemmed, hawed, adjusted the pan to get a better look, and the removable bottom removed and shimmied down my forearm. I thought momentarily of where to put the crust, realized my skin was a sizzlin', and threw everything on the floor. Nuts. First aid was administered, and now I've got five thin, horizontal reminders to be more careful when handling hot stuff. But don't fret. When I remade the crust, the tart pan and I had a lovely time together, and all was well in the kitchen once more.

Kringle!

Unless you're from Wisconsin, chances are you have never had Kringle. I send you my condolences. Kringle is the buttery, flaky, tender Danish pastry of my childhood.  When someone brought home an Almond Kringle, it was eaten in approximately seven seconds.  And for these seven precious seconds, everybody got along. Our mouths were full and it's a challenge to be pissypants when enjoying Kringle. Actually, one of the few things that my family can agree upon is that Almond Kringle is the superior type of Kringle, but I digress.

Kringle is wonderful because it is sweet and savory both.  When I finish a sweet food I usually want something savory, and when I finish something savory I want something sweet. Kringle is perfect because when I finish a piece I just want more Kringle. So you can understand my delight when I stumbled across this little gem of a recipe for Butter-Pecan Kringle over at the King Arthur Flour website. When I found it, I actually dropped what I was doing to make it. Best decision all day. 

I topped the Kringle with homemade caramel, and used the pecans from Grandma's backyard tree. Promise me you'll toast the pecans at 350° for 9-11 minutes. It gives them a completely different (read delicious) flavor. The recipe is top-notch, and simple to boot. When you make it, you will impress yourself and anyone who eats it. Though it was not the Kringle of my childhood, it was so incredible that S. and I ate the entire thing in three days. Don't remind me...

Winter Stew with Cheddar Rosemary Dumplings

It's getting colder out!  In a dedicated effort to not let winter destroy my life this year, I'm trying to take pleasure in the lovely things that come along with the season.  Scarves!  Mittens!  Flurries!  Hearty foods!  As in, "Goodbye strawberries, hellloooooooo stew."

Yup, stew, as inspired by my lovely sister-in-law Bridgett.  Except I used beef and topped it with the recipe below. Go on, try it.  Anything that involves 3/4 bottle chardonnay is bound to be wonderful.

Cheddar Rosemary Dumplings (Adapted from the Basic Biscuits recipe in Longacre's More-with-Less. One of my favorites cookbooks!)

2 cups flour*

3 teaspoons baking powder

1 teaspoon rosemary

1/2 teaspoon salt

Black pepper to taste

1/4 cup butter or shortening

1 cup milk or buttermilk

1 cup grated or chopped sharp cheddar cheese (Or whatever is in your fridge.  No cheese? Reduce milk to 3/4 cup)

*Let's chat about measuring flour.  Spoon the flour into the cup, then level the cup off with a knife.  This helps aerate the flour, is sort of like sifting without sifting, and will ensure fluffy little dumplings. 

An Introduction

Hello there! 

I think you should know that I am bad at beginnings.  If you give me the first paragraph of a story, I will write you a novella.  If you sing me the first few notes of a song, I will compose for you a small, multi-movement choral work.  If you get me started on an organization project, I will catalog your whole house.  But nobody is here to give me the beginning of this blog, so I’m going to pretend that the blog has already begun, and that we are already dear, dear friends. Are you ok with that? Fabulous!

As you know, dear friend, I love cooking!  I love sharing my cooking with my family and friends!  I love talking about all things cooking!  Sometimes, at night, when I can’t get to sleep, I imagine I am making sweet dough for pecan sticky buns.  Why?  I don’t know, because they’re delicious and it’s too cold to stick my hands out from under the blankets to read a book.  I imagine making other things too, ok, like caramel or bread pudding, but the point here is that I enjoy cooking a LOT.  So this is a blog about food.  But also about the magic that happens when people come together to share something delicious.  You can expect a few recipes, stories, and tips from my adventures in the kitchen.  Also some pseudo-philosophical reflections on the importance of food in life, or something like that.  And, dear friend, I hope you will enjoy reading this blog as much as I enjoy writing it.