No way out of town today, and no way anything else. But I have potatoes and onions and milk, so there it is - potato soup for dinner, hot vichyssoise. For lunch, a glass of orange juice.
I typed some and then erased. Out of the blue came the word choice opium. What did they know? That somehow mud, out of, by the roadside were but steps on the way to opium?
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Monday, February 23, 2009
Buckwheat nu
How and where and more how ~ Go to the food blog 101 Cookbooks. Look at the ingredients list for soba and open that. The dish is called Otsu (means nothing to me). This is very tasty. It's in steps, perhaps too many, but is simple.
Drain, squash, cube, and fry tofu (I chose to fry, a change from the recipe). The cook recommends toasting the tofu in a heavy pan, which might be even better than frying.
Mix up the dressing, and don't bother with a food processor. Just use a microplaner to grate the ginger, then whisk all (I heated the honey in microwave; agave would be good). Pour the dressing over the tofu, for a chance to absorb the good stuff.
Boil up the noodles, drain under cold water and mix with a tad of oil.
Mix it all together, noodles, dressing, tofu, cucumber, cilantro, scallions, and probably something else.
Do not put this in the freezer.
Drain, squash, cube, and fry tofu (I chose to fry, a change from the recipe). The cook recommends toasting the tofu in a heavy pan, which might be even better than frying.
Mix up the dressing, and don't bother with a food processor. Just use a microplaner to grate the ginger, then whisk all (I heated the honey in microwave; agave would be good). Pour the dressing over the tofu, for a chance to absorb the good stuff.
Boil up the noodles, drain under cold water and mix with a tad of oil.
Mix it all together, noodles, dressing, tofu, cucumber, cilantro, scallions, and probably something else.
Do not put this in the freezer.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Sunshine
To throw you off.
Two pots of chili
Two pots of chili
Mostly the beans ~ I made an under-seasoned chili yesterday, beginning the day before by soaking 1 lb borlotti beans overnight. The next day I drained the beans (I know, there is a lot of disagreement about all of this), covered with some water, not that much, and overcooked them in my pressure cooker; by the end there was a fairly thick bean broth. This may need thinning, I thought, and at some point I added broth and water, with my usual cautious hand, now looking, now adding, beginning to taste for salt.
Onions and garlic ~ Two onions chopped finely and sauteed in olive oil. After about 10 minutes of cooking, I added 5 or 6 minced, formerly plump local garlic cloves. Why do I care about local garlic? Because I don't like thinking about my garlic bulb being one in several tons of garlic, forklifted into a shipping container to travel the world to my kitchen. I draw the line at seagoing garlic trapped in a container. I have a garlic press, which I point out to all who inquire, but I like mashing or chopping garlic. They are little and don't jump around the chopping board, or the wooden bowl, or whatever I used. Oh, and sometimes my good old wooden or granite mortar and pestle.
Herbs and spices ~ After more cooking of onions and garlic, I added about 2 tbsp fresh thyme, chopped into tiny shapes. This didn't seem like enough, so I added about 1 solid tsp dried thyme as well. Stir stir. This is when I would have stirred in 2 tsp or so cumin powder and quite a bit of ancho chili powder, but I forgot to. I also forgot the cocoa powder and never remembered it.
Change of plans and pans ~ I set this pan aside (another way of saying I took the small pan off the stove and put it somewhere else). In the midst of these steps, I received a telephone call from two vegetarians, on their way, here in 6 hours, will there be food? Quick - revision of meat and beans chili. I looked into the pot of beans, with its thick beany liquid, and then put the heat on under it. I added more water and then broth. Over time I added more of both, judging the amount as I cooked along. Then I added one large can of whole tomatoes to the beans, squishing each tomato with my hands, straight into the pot, taking care not to squirt myself with one, and then poured in the juices. I knew it was really not enough for so many beans and added several long squirts of tomato paste from the tube. After staring into the bean pot, now simmering, it looked like the time to add the onion and garlic/herb mixture, more salt tasting, and added the forgotten cumin and New Mexico chili powder, enough to season, but not enough to frighten away those New Englanders. I worried, and would continue to, even when eating, that I had cooked too many beans for the amount of tomatoes or onions or seasonings. I removed some of the bean mixture from one pot into another and and put a fire under it. This will be the non-meat version. It looked pitiful. But I continue staring into this pot, knowing there will be an answer for me. I open a drawer and pull out some white rice, long-grained, sitting next to various organic, varietal brown rices which I decide against. I add one handful of white rice, look into the pot, and add another handful, and then water. Later on I had to add more water, as it continued to get too thick and was sticking to the bottom of the pot, one of my oldest stainless steel sauce pans. Finally the small pot of chili with rice looked okay.
Meat ~ I fried up the 1 lb ground organic, grassy ground beef and the who knows what one-half pound ground pork. It could be that I sprinkled more ancho powder and salt into this as it cooked, but I forget. Now came the time to pour this into the other reserved bean mixture and taste. Bland, with kind of creamy looking (thick and luscious bean broth), sort of pink.
Later, eating ~ Later there was grated Monterey Jack cheese and sour cream on both versions of the chili. I won't say more about the sour cream, other than we didn't notice. But it does turn out that I am a hesitant chili cook, short on confidence. Not very much like Texas.
Onions and garlic ~ Two onions chopped finely and sauteed in olive oil. After about 10 minutes of cooking, I added 5 or 6 minced, formerly plump local garlic cloves. Why do I care about local garlic? Because I don't like thinking about my garlic bulb being one in several tons of garlic, forklifted into a shipping container to travel the world to my kitchen. I draw the line at seagoing garlic trapped in a container. I have a garlic press, which I point out to all who inquire, but I like mashing or chopping garlic. They are little and don't jump around the chopping board, or the wooden bowl, or whatever I used. Oh, and sometimes my good old wooden or granite mortar and pestle.
Herbs and spices ~ After more cooking of onions and garlic, I added about 2 tbsp fresh thyme, chopped into tiny shapes. This didn't seem like enough, so I added about 1 solid tsp dried thyme as well. Stir stir. This is when I would have stirred in 2 tsp or so cumin powder and quite a bit of ancho chili powder, but I forgot to. I also forgot the cocoa powder and never remembered it.
Change of plans and pans ~ I set this pan aside (another way of saying I took the small pan off the stove and put it somewhere else). In the midst of these steps, I received a telephone call from two vegetarians, on their way, here in 6 hours, will there be food? Quick - revision of meat and beans chili. I looked into the pot of beans, with its thick beany liquid, and then put the heat on under it. I added more water and then broth. Over time I added more of both, judging the amount as I cooked along. Then I added one large can of whole tomatoes to the beans, squishing each tomato with my hands, straight into the pot, taking care not to squirt myself with one, and then poured in the juices. I knew it was really not enough for so many beans and added several long squirts of tomato paste from the tube. After staring into the bean pot, now simmering, it looked like the time to add the onion and garlic/herb mixture, more salt tasting, and added the forgotten cumin and New Mexico chili powder, enough to season, but not enough to frighten away those New Englanders. I worried, and would continue to, even when eating, that I had cooked too many beans for the amount of tomatoes or onions or seasonings. I removed some of the bean mixture from one pot into another and and put a fire under it. This will be the non-meat version. It looked pitiful. But I continue staring into this pot, knowing there will be an answer for me. I open a drawer and pull out some white rice, long-grained, sitting next to various organic, varietal brown rices which I decide against. I add one handful of white rice, look into the pot, and add another handful, and then water. Later on I had to add more water, as it continued to get too thick and was sticking to the bottom of the pot, one of my oldest stainless steel sauce pans. Finally the small pot of chili with rice looked okay.
Meat ~ I fried up the 1 lb ground organic, grassy ground beef and the who knows what one-half pound ground pork. It could be that I sprinkled more ancho powder and salt into this as it cooked, but I forget. Now came the time to pour this into the other reserved bean mixture and taste. Bland, with kind of creamy looking (thick and luscious bean broth), sort of pink.
Later, eating ~ Later there was grated Monterey Jack cheese and sour cream on both versions of the chili. I won't say more about the sour cream, other than we didn't notice. But it does turn out that I am a hesitant chili cook, short on confidence. Not very much like Texas.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
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