Good Lord, You're Still Eating Peaches? Rice Pudding with Ginger, Cardamom, and yes, Peaches

I'm a Peach Truck addict. 

There. I've said it. I'm normally pretty indifferent to peaches, it being so hard to find decent ones in the grocery store and so hard to get out of bed in time to find a parking spot at the farmer's market. So it's no wonder that I went and ordered a SECOND 25 pounds of peaches from the Peach Truck. I clearly didn't get enough of them the first time around! 

Not an actual photo of my kitchen counter - this year

This time I'm lucky I got any at all, since John has discovered he loves them and packed away at least 10 pounds on his own. I managed to do some canning (pickled peaches and cardamom peach jam, in case you're wondering), or otherwise the rest of us might not have gotten any at all. I spared my family the peaches-with-dinner-every-night thing this time around; we'll be enjoying the canned ones through the winter, until I can get my hands on more Georgia peaches. Pretty sure I'll be ordering 3 boxes next year.....  

Rice pudding seemed like a good ending to our week of Caribbean food. It's not authentic in any way - at least not that I can tell - but the coconut and cardamom seem on-brand, and ginger is good with everything. And of course, the peaches. 

From the Peach Truck website, which is chock-full of good recipes.

Rice Pudding with Ginger, Cardamom, and Peaches 

1-inch piece fresh ginger, peeled and smashed 
2 cardamom pods, crushed 
1 can unsweetened coconut milk 
Enough half and half to fill the coconut milk can 
½ cup arborio rice 
¼ cup light brown sugar or honey 
½ tsp kosher salt 
2 large peaches, chopped 
1 tsp vanilla extract 

Combine all the ingredients in a large saucepan (one with high sides – ask me how I know that coconut milk tends to boil over). Bring to a boil over medium high heat. Reduce the heat to a simmer and cover, leaving a very small space open (ask me how I know that coconut milk boils over) and cook 15-20 minutes or until the rice is soft. 

Cook a little longer, uncovered and stirring frequently, until the pudding is as thick as you like. Remember it will thicken up when it gets cold. 

If you can find them, remove the ginger and cardamom pods. If not, warm everybody when you serve it.

Puerto Rican Chicken is Fricasseein' Awesome

The plantains I bought for Caribbean Week STILL haven't ripened, so I resorted to looking through my one and only Puerto Rican cookbook for something other than mofongo to make for dinner. I'd been in the kitchen all day and was feeling kind of cranky, so I wanted something that wasn't fussy or a lot of work but was still going to round out the week on a high note. I chose this particular recipe entirely on the basis of having all the ingredients, a strategy that hasn't always been successful for me, and the lack of effort required to get everything into the pot. One of the great advantages of having 2 prep cooks around the house is that the pile of veggies I don't want to touch seems like (dare I say it?) small potatoes to them. Haha! See what I did there? 'Small potatoes...' 

It's funnier in person. 

I have to admit up front that the kind of things I have laying around my pantry and fridge are not necessarily things that normal people have laying around. However: every single thing here can be found at Kroger, even the salt pork (which is in the refrigerated section by the bacon). I subbed some pre-chopped Hormel ham bits for the lean cured ham the original recipe calls for, because I'm not above taking shortcuts; and in the absence of a whole cut-up chicken - which cannot be found anywhere this week - I used bone-in chicken thighs. 

The only advice I have here is to make sure your pan is large enough to fit everything in a single layer. The last thing you want to do with a nice hands-off dish like this is fuss around trying to make sure that everything cooks evenly. And prepare yourself: an argument broke out over the last of the potatoes. Next time I make this I'll probably double it in the hopes that we actually end up with leftovers. 

Adapted slightly from Puerto Rican Cookery by Carmen Aboy Valldejuli

Chicken Fricassee 

2 1/2 pounds bone-in chicken pieces
1 oz salt pork, diced
2 oz ham, diced
1 teaspoon oregano
2 cloves garlic, chopped
1 onion, chopped
2 bell peppers, seeded and chopped
2 jalapenos, seeded and chopped
*
1 teaspoon capers
1 Tbsp vinegar
2 bay leaves
1/4 cup raisins
8 pitted prunes
1/2 cup tomato sauce
1 Tbsp salt 
1 lb potatoes, peeled and cubed 
*
1 bag frozen green peas, thawed 
2 Tbsp butter

Heat 1 Tbsp oil in a large skillet or Dutch oven and brown the salt pork and ham, stirring occasionally. Reduce the heat to low, add the ingredients through the jalapenos, and saute for 10 minutes.

Add the chicken pieces and cook for 2 - 3 minutes over moderate heat. Add the ingredients through the potatoes and mix. Add 2 1/2 cups of water to the pan, then bring to a boil. Reduce the heat to moderate, cover, and cook for 45 minutes.

Add the butter and peas and cook over moderate heat until the sauce thickens. 

The Mid-Week Run Down: Caribbean Fish Stew

 

This week’s food adventures cook us to the Caribbean, because we’re really looking forward to our cruise in March and I’m absolutely determined to try something I’ve actually eaten before on one of our ports of call. I’m flying blind here with the menu planning for the week – the only food I recall eating on our last trip was mofongo, at a little café in Puerto Rico in which I didn’t recognize ANYTHING on the menu. (I was absolutely delighted and tried to order everything; fortunately I was with 4 other people so we made significant inroads. I also have a bag of plantains sitting on my kitchen counter so who knows? Maybe I’ll take a stab at mofongo as well.)

I like to cook things I’ve never had (or heard of). I must be an optimist, since this is actually kind of bold (presumptuous?) of me. What if I get everything completely wrong? What if it sucks? What if I’m actually a bad cook who can’t follow directions and my family only eats my food because I’ve numbed their taste buds over the years? These things occur to me occasionally when I’m headed somewhere new, culinarily speaking, but nobody’s died yet and it means we generally recognize things on menus.

Not one of our ports of call, alas

This stew hails from Jamaica, but according to Wikipedia it’s eaten all over the Caribbean and can contain a huge variety of seafood and vegetables. The only constant is the coconut milk, which reduces to a thick-ish sauce. It's usually made with mackerel but Mark Bittman has made my life cheaper and easier by subbing in fresh cod instead. The dish is called “run down,” not because that’s how you’ll feel after slaving over a hot stove for hours – it’s fast and easy, I promise; there’s not even much chopping – but because you cook it until the fish falls apart into pieces. 

John is notoriously picky about fish, refusing to eat anything under $20/lb as a matter of course. I recently found out that my cholesterol is sky-high, so he better get used to slumming; cod is usually pretty reasonable even at the fancy-schmancy grocery stores and is a favorite around here with everyone except John (who is indignant at my writing this and insists that he loves fish in all its forms). If you plan ahead and salt your fish the day before, this stew comes together in about half an hour, which is totally reasonable for a weeknight. It was a great one-bowl meal, as we decided to ignore vegetables this particular night, and was delicious served over coconut rice (make stovetop rice subbing 2 cans of coconut milk for the water; be careful it doesn’t boil over and also stir it a lot or you’ll get a bunch of practice cussing while you clean your stove grate and favorite pot).

From Mark Bittman’s The Best Recipes in the World, which can be counted on for weeknight dinners with lots of variety.

Jamaican Fish Stew (Run Down)

1 ½ - 2 lb cod or other white fish, in a couple of large pieces (I had to cut mine up in order to fit it in my small LeCreuset)
3 Tbsp canola or other neutral oil
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 large onion, chopped
1 habanero chile, minced into tiny non-painful bits (if you’re being authentic; I used hatch chiles instead)
1 tsp black pepper
1 ½ - 2 cups coconut milk
1 cup chopped tomato with its juice
1 lime, juiced
Chopped fresh cilantro, if you’re feeling garnish-y

Salt the cod lightly on both sides and put in the fridge to rest for about an hour (up to 24 hours if you don’t want to build in wait time at the beginning of this).

Put the oil in a deep skillet or Dutch oven over medium-high heat. Add the garlic, onion, chile, and pepper. Cook until the onion softens, about 5-1o minutes. Add the coconut milk and tomato and cook, stirring occasionally, until it reduces by about half.

Rinse the fish and add it to the pot. Adjust the heat so it bubbles a bit but not like you’re cooking pasta. Cook about 10 minutes or until the fish is done, then add the lime juice. Garnish with the cilantro if you bothered with it.

I'm Changing Your Mind About Collards Greens

Some weeks we eat really boring food. Some weeks I’m absolutely on fire and we dine like – well, not kings, but like people who eat a lot of good food. And some weeks, a pretty pedestrian-sounding side dish steals the show and ends up being added to the New Favorites list. If you don’t like collard greens, this may change your mind - I know you need more greens in your diet!- and let's face it: collards aren't most people's favorites. I think this is probably because the raw leaves are roughly the size and shape of an elephant's ear (an actual elephant's actual ear, not the tasty fried dough from the state fair) and don't seem like they would cook down to anything as delicious as, say, baby spinach or chard. You're wrong. 

Nom nom, amiright?

I’ve talked plenty about the Lee Brothers and their wonderful updated take on Southern food. Having recently visited Alabama, I found pretty much every stereotype I expected to be true; lots of fried, lots of okra, mac and cheese is apparently a vegetable, token-effort iceberg lettuce salads, etc. It was all delicious but I walked away from most meals feeling kind of …heavy. My scale also feels that I came away from this experience kind of heavy. This did not, however, stop me from going on a Southern food bender last week and cooking my way through a bunch of new recipes from the Lee Brothers and Martha Foose Hall, including a sweet tea pie.

I actually like collards, and have a couple of different versions depending on how long I have available for cooking. David tends to make them as he has more patience for the rinsing and de-veining and chopping – the pre-cut ones all have the hard rib intact, which makes eating collards a lot less enjoyable. I actually did all the work to make these, including slicing the leaves (which, admittedly, are pretty easy to work with) ribbon-thin so they piled up beautifully in the bowl. I thought it was well worth the effort, as the tasty end result really wanted to be pretty as well. If you’ve ever wished you liked greens, this may be the dish for you.

From Simple Fresh Southern by the Lee Brothers.

Collards with Poblanos and Chorizo Will Change Your Mind About Collards 

2 tsp canola oil
8 oz fresh chorizo
3 poblano chiles, seeded and sliced into strips
2 tsp mined garlic (use the real stuff here, not the jarred)
1 ½ lb collard greens, ribs removed and sliced thinly
1 tsp salt
2 Tbsp red wine vinegar

Heat the oil in a pan large enough to hold the greens, then add the chorizo. Cook until the sausage has rendered most of its fat, about 2 minutes, breaking it up with a spoon as it cooks so you end up with crumbly little bits. Add the poblanos and cook until they start to soften, about 4 minutes more.

Add the garlic, half the collards, the salt, and 2 Tbsp water to the pan. Cook, turning the collards with tongs and adding more as space permits. Continue to cook until all the collards have softened and become dark green. About 6 minutes. Add the vinegar and cook, turning the collards occasionally, until the vinegar has evaporated and pan is dry, about 3 minutes more. Season with salt to taste and serve immediately to exclamations of surprise at what a couple of extra ingredients can do to greens.

OMG I have the biggest crush right now: The ONLY cookbook you'll ever need for gluten-free baking

 

If gluten-free baking has ever made you sad, I have the solution. 

As an intermittent subscriber to Cook’s Illustrated, I freely admit that I’m often so overwhelmed by their meticulous approach to absolutely everything* that I don’t often cook from the magazines. This is a shame, because the things I’ve made have basically been perfect and ought to become part of my regular rotation.

I also have several of their single-topic cookbooks (“Sous Vide for Everybody,” anyone?) and they’re similarly excellent, if a little intimidating. So I half-thought that the copy of The How Can It Be Gluten-Free Cookbook Collection that I was recently gifted with might be more of the same – I’d page through it, marvel at their precision and detail, and shelve it right next to the baking-only subset of this book, which I already own and haven’t touched.

Wrong! So, so, so wrong. First off, gluten-free baking is a continual source of disappointment for me; but I figured if anyone was going to get it right it was going to be America’s Test Kitchen. In the “Why This Recipe Works” section before each recipe, I actually understand the incremental changes they make; I’ve tried many of these adjustments myself and get how a teaspoon of psyllium husk, for instance, can make all the difference. Also it was a gift and I didn’t want to be ungrateful.

So in I dove. The first, crucial step is making the ATK all-purpose flour blend. The recipes include notes for subbing in King Arthur Flour’s All-Purpose flour mix and Bob’s Red Mill 1-to-1 Flour Blend, but they rightly point out that (1) King Arthur’s turns out pretty well but just isn’t quite right and (2) Bob’s Red Mill stuff always tastes kind of beany. (Try that nasty-ass Chicka pasta monstrosity if you’re not sure what I mean by that.)

The first recipe I made was focaccia, because I crave it occasionally and it went well with dinner. The result was almost too fluffy – something I never in a million, billion years thought I would ever say about something gluten-free. My advice: oil the sides of the pan, because the dough is going to rise more than you expect and you don’t want the middle to look sunken when you pull the final product out of the oven; and pay close attention to the instructions about when exactly to put the baking stone in the oven so your temperatures are accurate. John has never had focaccia before and ate half of it. I consider it a great success.

The next challenge was pie crust. I’ve made the occasional GF pie crust and it’s never bad; in fact, it holds up better than regular pie crust in that it doesn’t get soggy overnight. It’s not tender and flaky, though, and it’s usually a little too gloppy to roll out nicely. Adding bench flour seems to make it tough.

Naturally, the ATK folks have experienced the same things. The resulting pie crust was relatively easy to roll out – I say relatively because I didn’t let it warm up enough before rolling it out and it was an absolute test of my upper-body strength. I was feeling very impatient. It was, however, my first-EVER double-crust pie and I was mostly pleased with it. The crust itself was great where it wasn’t too thin or too thick, because I really need some practice rolling; I’m going to get it when I roll out the crust for tonight’s dessert. Because it was so good and so easy that I’m actually making desserts. They have also thoughtfully provided separate recipes for single- and double-crust pies so I don’t have to do math in my head, a sure formula for not-nearly-as-much success (not an actual disaster, but certainly an inferior product).

Flush with success, I decided to tackle the Light and Fluffy Biscuits. As Anna said, “Holy fucking shit. This is gluten-free?!” which should give you an idea of how actually light and fluffy these were. They were amazing. I did notice a little bit of a tang from the yogurt but it wasn’t enough to take away from the absolute deliciousness – they were just the right amount of moist, the crumb was tender, they were fluffy; they even browned up! They were, in short, perfect. If you buy this cookbook for no other reason than this biscuit recipe, it would be well worth it.

By now my tub of flour mix was getting low. I used the last cup to improvise some self-rising cornmeal for a squash fritter recipe (from a different cookbook) (also delicious) (recipe to follow at some point) and now I need to make a grocery run to fill the tub up again. I’ll be making a double batch this time, since I’m apparently on a baking bender. I’d also like to try the whole grain version, as there’s a graham cracker recipe I’m feeling pretty optimistic about. It would be nice to have s’mores at the fire pit that are made from something other than Deb Perelman’s excellent cookie cake recipe, which is delightful but not really a proper s'more.

The How Can It Be Gluten-Free Cookbook Collection from America’s Test Kitchen. Rating: 5 out of 5. Would definitely recommend to anyone who’s ever felt sad about gluten-free baking. 

 *These are the cooks who will make 100 dozen sugar cookies “so you don’t have to.” Like I would ever make 100 dozen sugar cookies. They can tell you down to the increment of a teaspoon how much salt something needs. It’s insane.

Jen and the Giant Peach, Part 2: Pork Tacos and a Pet Peeve

The peach madness continued unabated in our house. The second-best dish of Peach Week (yes, they went that fast) was the pork tacos with peach salsa. While it seemed a bit of a shame to waste something so delicious on a salsa where it would be covered up with other flavors, I was wrong; I found myself wishing I’d made (more) extra to scoop up with chips the next day.

The real winner here is the spice rub: it’s going into my regular rotation as the perfect blend of spicy and whatever goes well with spicy that isn’t sweet. It made for some excellent tacos in which the meat was just as much a star as everything else, which is really saying something given the accessories these were sporting.

Using this even though Mark Harmon isn't very nice

This is another recipe I got from Pam (I really need to remember to ask her where these all came from…), and I’d like to find the authors and give them a friendly smack upside the head. What is the deal with putting ingredients in the wrong order? If you’re following the instructions, you read from top to bottom and work your way through the ingredient list. For some daft reason, they saw fit to put all sorts of things in all sorts of places – the yogurt after the tortillas when you’re clearly using them with the avocados, for instance, and spices split in half and scattered willy-nilly throughout the list. This is the only thing I’ve ever seen that’s more annoying than “Combine XYZ and next 6 ingredients” as the first instruction – like I want to be doing math (counting is math) while I cook!

For your considerably more convenience that I experienced, I’ve put the ingredients in the ACTUAL order in which you use them. I know you're not intimidated by how many ingredients there are, because you know by now that (1) I wouldn't do this unless it was worth it and (2) if it was a big bother, I would have warned you already and (3) I don't do hard things in the summer. 

Pork Chops with Peach Salsa with all the ingredients in a sensible, correct order

4 thin pork chops, or a few thick ones cut in half, or whatever combination of pork you come up with, as long as it's thin and flat enough to grill quickly

1 tsp chipotle powder
1 tsp cumin
½ tsp oregano
¼ tsp coriander
½ tsp garlic powder
¼ tsp allspice
2 Tbsp olive oil, divided 
 
1 avocado, diced
¼ cup plain Greek yogurt or sour cream
5 Tbsp lime juice, divided 
 
3 peaches, diced
½ shallot, minced
3 Tbsp chopped cilantro
1 tsp sugar
 
Enough tortillas for the number of people you're feeding

 Combine the spices in a small bowl. Add 1 Tbsp of the olive oil and rub this mixture over the pork chops. Start the grill.  

Blend the avocado, yogurt or sour cream, and 4 tablespoons lime juice together (use the food processor for optimal creaminess)(the yogurt would probably add a nice little tang but you know damn well I used the sour cream).

Combine the peaches, shallot, cilantro, sugar, remaining 2 tablespoons lime juice, and 1 tablespoon olive oil in a small bowl.

Grill the pork chops. Let them rest a couple of minutes, then slice into strips. Serve on the tortillas with the avocado cream and salsa. The salsa is great on chips the next day, should you happen to make extra. I forget what we repurposed the leftover avocado cream for, but it was delicious and not at all brown and scary like leftover avocado usually is. The pork is delicious eaten straight from the fridge in a fit of late-night protein craving.

Jen and the Giant Peach: Bougie Flatbreads Edition

(OK, not technically one gigantic peach – more like 25 pounds of smaller ones. But the comparison was practically begging to be made.) 

I ordered a shipment from The Peach Truck this year. What these peaches lacked in colossal size they more than made up for by being ridiculously good – I accrued some goodwill among my friends by delivering 6-count bags to quite a few porches around the area, and I still had plenty of peaches to each them at every single meal all week and still have some in the fridge to get me through the weekend. Whatever they put into them is clearly working, as I just ordered another 25 pounds from the August shipment in the throes of some kind of peach-induced madness. 

For the record, I’m not actually a big fan of Roald Dahl books – I find them creepy as hell, and not in a good way. However. I have very specific memories of one of my cousins reading “James and the Giant Peach” to her younger brother and I as a bedtime story. I’m 100% sure we were far too old for bedtime stories by this time, but it was a nightly ritual that I loved and looked forward to, and I’m also 100% sure that’s why my kids had such a long run of bedtime stories themselves. 

Actual conversation from this weekend: 

“I thought of you. I ordered 25 pounds of peaches and thought about you reading “James and the Giant Peach” every time we ate one.” 

“Jennifer, what do you even do with 25 pounds of peaches?” 

“I shared some. We ate a lot of them.” (lists all the recipes we cooked with the peaches) 

"That sounds delicious. How many do you have left?” 

“Four.” 

“Four pounds?"

“Um. Four peaches.” 

Silence. 

I prefer to think this was inspired by her awe at my peach-using ingenuity, but I think it was horror at the thought of someone actually eating all that fruit. In my defense, I had help. 

I’m reasonably sure by now you’re wondering how exactly one cooks with many peaches. Yes, when I list all the recipes I sound like Bubba from “Forrest Gump,” so I’ll spare you that. The hands-down favorites were the pork tacos with peach salsa and the flatbreads; and since they’re faster, easier, and something I’m probably going to make with one of the last 4 peaches, I’m sharing this recipe in the hopes that you too will have a craving for a bougie lunch. 

Also, I ordered another 25 pounds. 

(Shared by my friend Pam (who also ordered from the Peach Truck), so I have no idea where this recipe came from. I’ve cut it in half but it will easily scale up for as many bougie friends as you have. One flatbread per person really is enough. 

Jen and the Giant Peach Flatbread 

6 oz fresh mozzarella (or enough ricotta for a decent schmear on each piece of bread) 
2 mini naan flatbreads 
2 Tbsp olive oil 
1 peach, thinly sliced 
2 oz. prosciutto, cut into thin strips 
¼ cup fresh basil, thinly sliced 

Preheat the oven to 450. This will be worth turning your oven on, I promise. 

Place the naan on a baking sheet and drizzle with the olive oil. Place 3 thick slices of mozzarella on each one (or the ricotta, if that’s how you roll), then layer with the peach slices, prosciutto, and 1 ½ tablespoons of basil for each one. Season with salt and pepper. 

Bake about 8 minutes, until the crust is crisp and golden and the cheese is melted. We ate these as-is, but it was suggested that a nice drizzle of balsamic vinegar would not go amiss. Next time.

It's okay to eat your feelings as long as what you're frying is vegetables: Spiced Vegetable Fritters

If I needed a reminder of how much our lives have changed now that our kids are nearly adults, tonight’s swim meet was a great one. In the not-too-distant past, any swim meet – even the home ones – included camp chairs, a Sportbrella, a cooler of food, a blue Ikea bag packed with extra towels and hoodies, copious snacks, extra sunscreen, at least one book, and a partridge in a pear tree. Tonight we walked down the block to the pool without even bringing a house key.

All packed for a swim meet

I won’t deny that there are positive aspects to the end of my Sherpa days, but there’s a twinge of sadness too. I spend a lot of time looking back and thinking about how hard I tried to be the Best Parent Ever. Since I’m still myself, things definitely didn’t go according to plan fairly often, but I can see that I’ve raised excellent human beings and I’ve been able to let go of the need to seem perfect. I don’t know what Imaginary Mom is making of all of this, but Actual Mom is eating her feelings.

You know that means the deep fryer is coming out.

Imaginary Mom would probably be scrapbooking about this and taking a lot of pictures, but Actual Mom is shaking the fryer basket and burning her mouth doing quality control on the first batch of pakoras. My children assure me that they love it when I eat my feelings, because we get delightful things like apple fritters and fried chicken and these crispy lovelies, which are full of nice virtuous vegetables so you can pretend you’re serving A Healthy Thing.

If you’re living a gluten-free life you’re already aware that you need to have at least 37,000 different kinds of flour on hand, so one more shouldn’t be a problem. The side notes for this recipe assure the reader that regular easy-to-find chickpea flour from Kroger is definitely not the same thing as Indian besan flour from Subzi Mandi and you can’t just go substituting willy-nilly. Since I firmly believe that Cook’s Illustrated is edited by a whole team of Imaginary Moms (bless their hearts), I used the chickpea flour that I had on hand. (I mean, they’re right. Besan flour is ground brown chickpeas and chickpea flour is ground white chickpeas and I know they’re not the same thing but it’s been a busy week and I haven’t made it to any specialty grocery stores in a bit and I really, really, really needed something fried for dinner. Do with that knowledge what you will, but be sure to pick up some chutney at Subzi Mandi in case you were making a batch and burned it because you fell asleep on the couch because it really has been a very busy week.)

If you have random amounts of vegetables in your house this is a great way to use them up, since it’s more of an idea than a recipe. If you can shred it or mince it, it can go in the batter; between this and okonomiyaki and my weird obsession with salads, I’m not going to throw out a single vegetable between now and Labor Day. 

My only concession to the notes in the original recipe is to point out that white chickpea flour needs more water to rehydrate than besan flour, so add at least 2 extra tablespoons of water. I followed the instructions and think it wasn’t quite enough; the pakoras were excellent when they came out of the oil but after they sat for a few minutes, the texture in the middle said they wanted a little more water. This means your batter will probably be a little soupier than you would expect. The original recipe instructs you to stir the batter after removing each portion; I skipped that because it seemed excessive but it turns out that’s exactly what you need to do if your batter is liquidy enough, because otherwise you’ll end up with a vegetable-less sludge at the bottom of the bowl when you’re done. All the sludge should end up deep-fried instead, slathered with chutney and tasting like the last high school summer.

Adapted for what I had on hand from Cook’s Illustrated #177, July & August 2022.

Pakoras (South Asian Spiced Vegetable Fritters)

1 ½ cups thinly sliced onion (any kind – the recipe uses red, I used white)
1 ½ cups shredded potato
1 cup shredded cabbage
1 jalapeno, minced
1 tsp ground cumin
1 tsp ground coriander
1 tsp thyme (or ajwain, if you’re already going to the Indian grocery)
½ tsp table salt
½ tsp Aleppo pepper (or Kashmiri chile powder, see above, yada yada)
¼ tsp ground fenugreek (yes, I had it on hand. Skip it if you don’t)
¾ cup besan or chickpea flour
1 tsp baking powder
½ tsp ground turmeric
¼ cup water

Mix all the vegetables and spices (except the turmeric) in a large bowl; you should have about 4 cups of vegetables in all. In a separate bowl, combine the besan, baking powder, and turmeric.

Sprinkle the flour mixture over the vegetables and stir until the flour is completely absorbed (save yourself some hassle and do this with your hands). Add the water and stir well (also with your hands).

Heat your oil to 375 (if you don’t have a deep fryer, use 1 ½ inches of oil in a Dutch oven). Drop the batter by tablespoons and cook for 2 minutes, until the pakora are a deep golden brown and you have little crispy craggy bits all over. Only fry a few at a time so the temperature of the oil stays constant. If you’re not eating them as they come out of the fryer, hold them in a 200-degree oven while you finish the frying.

 

Slaw for Slaw Haters, or, Learning to Love Things Without Mayonnaise So We Don’t All Die

Let me start by saying that we probably wouldn’t actually die of food poisoning even if I loaded everything we ate all summer with homemade mayonnaise. We have multiple people under this roof who are ServSafe certified and I’m confident that the accumulated amount of knowledge would keep us all safe from preventable food-borne illnesses. And even though I’ve discovered the myriad delights of garlic aioli, I can and will control myself and make nice virtuous salads with vinegary dressings, especially since I treated myself to this gorgeous julienne slicer. I basically want to shred carrots into everything these days.

How lucky for me that the Lee Brothers have a recipe for a carrot slaw that will satisfy even the most ardent cabbage hater (looking at you, Pam!). This is because it doesn’t actually contain cabbage but rather, crunchy water – er, iceberg lettuce, which serves a cabbage-y function without the distinctive (or any) flavor that CERTAIN PEOPLE find off-putting even though I’ve explained a hundred times that my coleslaw is Actually Famous in some circles and they may find it delicious. This was super tasty on its own; I’d put it on the side of any Asian meal, particularly something fried or having a rich sauce, so the crunchy veg and acidity of the dressing offset the heaviness. It was also delicious tucked into bundles of lettuce with our rip-off version of PF Chang’s Chicken Lettuce Wraps. I’d put it on any kind of wrap sandwich, a burger, next to ribs – anywhere you want a light side that allows you to justify whatever excesses are contained in the rest of the meal.

My only complaint about this salad is that as written, the dressing is a colossal pain in the ass to make. Even I don’t want to peel and grate fresh ginger and squeeze the pulp in a cheesecloth to extract a ludicrously tiny amount of ginger juice. I mean, I did, but I’m not going to do it that way again and I recommend you don’t either. Option 1: buy one of those little thimbles of ginger juice at your local bougie grocery store. Option 2: use pre-grated ginger paste, which won’t mess with the texture but still adds the required pow. Pro Tip #2: Don’t use your small food processor, because this is just a little bit too much and it could (potentially) make a large and annoying mess when it oozes out from under the lid while your back is theoretically turned for literally 15 seconds.

Adapted slightly from Simple Fresh Southern: Knock-OutDishes with Down-Home Flavor by Matt Lee and Ted Lee, my go-to inspiration for bougie hot-weather cooking.

Snow Pea and Carrot Salad with Ginger Dressing

2 large handfuls of snow peas, blanched and roughly chopped
4-5 medium carrots (about 8 oz.), julienned with your excellent new julienne peeler or shredded on a box grater
1 head iceberg lettuce, sliced into very thin ribbons (Napa cabbage would be good here too, Pam)
1 tsp kosher salt
2-3 Tbsp ginger paste, or 2 Tbsp ginger juice (if you’re feeling hardcore, see Pro Tip #2 for the hard way to do this. It takes roughly 4-6 inches of ginger root to get this much liquid)
1 large cucumber, peeled, seeded, and chopped into chunks
3 Tbsp vegetable oil
2 Tbsp white wine vinegar

Combine all the vegetables in a large bowl and toss with ½ teaspoon of the salt.

To make the dressing, put all the other ingredients into the bowl of a food processor (you could use a blender) and process until the dressing is smooth. Pour the dressing over the vegetables, toss thoroughly, and salt to taste.

Enchiladas a Deux for Easy White Girls, None of Whom Are In This Picture

The Rogues Gallery from the enchilada era

Back in the day, I made a mean enchilada. I’m not sure what I was cooking for dinner those days – it was the Gourmet magazine phase so it was probably fucking complicated – but the enchiladas would always make an appearance at our summer lake weekend. I liked them because they were easy to assemble in somebody else's kitchen and required minimal effort, even with a “homemade” sauce. Homemade sauce, you say? Well, yes, in a manner of speaking. It’s what happens when nobody can drive to the store and you’re working with what you have on hard. My go-to recipe is from the whitest Mexican cookbook of all time, the hallowed home of Corn Thing.

If you know me at all, you know that I'm likely to up my game, given sufficient time and enough new cookbooks. Hence the latest iteration of enchilada sauce, salsa roja, which really doesn't take all that much longer and is so infinitely superior in flavor as to more than compensate for the extra steps (and dishes).

As for fillings, take your pick: shredded chicken or ground beef with a little melty cheese mixed in is fantastic, and refried beans are also a favorite (I've been known to make those from scratch as well)(at least I'm consistent). If you can't summon refried beans from the depths of Guadalajara, store-bought is fine. I’d venture to suggest there are many delicious vegetarian options as well, which goes to show that I'm expanding my horizons. Sweet potatoes? Black beans? Zucchini? Corn? Any and all combinations of these things, loaded up with your favorite spices, is also fantastic, especially if you bind it all together with – you guessed it – melty cheese. (No, I haven't gotten to the point of making my own cheese yet, ha ha ha, COVID cheese making hobby notwithstanding).

OK, so now that I reflect upon it, I could make the sauce and the tortillas and the cheese for the filling and be extra, extra deluxe. but that would really be contrary to the spirit of this dish, which can be assembled and someone else’s wackadoo cottage kitchen when one is at least two sheets to the wind. I'll give you both versions of the sauce. I will not, however, give you the recipe for the actual enchiladas – if I can figure it out drunk, you most assuredly can too.

The first recipe is from Quick Mexican Cooking by Cyndi Douglas and Georgia Patrick. The second is Salsa rojo from SparkRecipes,.com. 

Easy white girl enchilada sauce

(the sauce is easy, not the girl)

2 heaping tablespoon shortening ( yes, you can use lard) or 3 tablespoons vegetable oil
2 heaping tablespoons all purpose flour or gluten free blend
2 heaping tablespoons chili powder
½ tsp garlic salt
2 cups of water

Melt the shortening over low heat. add flour, chili powder garlic salt, stirring constantly until it's just a little bit browned. continue to stir while adding the water. it will thicken quickly so add more water if you need to fit it.

This recipe makes 2 cups of sauce. As you can see, the whole thing is based on proportions so you could easily scale it up for however many people made it to the cottage that weekend. 

 

Easy but slightly more complicated enchilada sauce that you could clearly use for other dishes as well

6 guajillo chiles
4 large ancho chiles
2 teaspoons vegetable oil
½ medium onion, chopped
2 medium garlic cloves, chopped
1 teaspoon dried oregano, crumbled
½ teaspoon ground cumin
2 medium tomatoes, peeled, seeded, and chopped. I’ve used canned it’s been just fine.
¾ teaspoon salt, or to taste

(If you’re thinking to yourself, “What the hell with these chiles? I’m a Kroger person,” there’s an excellent teeny little Mexican grocery right next to Taco Tienda on John R, across the street from Red Robin and Target. You could go to Whole Foods or some fancy-ass grocery store and pay a fortune, or you can get these for roughly $2/bag. Which sounds better?)

With scissors, cut off the tops and cut each chile lengthwise in half. Remove the seeds and veins. On a dry skillet (or the griddle on your new gas stove, because dishes), toast the chiles about 3 seconds on each side, holding them down with a wide spatula until barely blistered and aromatic. Do not burn or they will become bitter. Submerge the chiles in a bowl of hot water and soak about 20 minutes.

Heat the oil in a medium skillet and cook the onion and garlic slowly until they start to brown, 5 to 6 minutes. Stir in the oregano and cumin and immediately transfer to a blender. Add the tomatoes to the blender. With tongs, lift the chiles from the soaking water and put them in the blender. Taste the chile water (yeah, for real). If it has a pleasant taste and is not bitter, add ½ cup chile water to the blender, along with ¼ cup of water. Otherwise, just go with 3/4 cup of water. Blend the mixture until the sauce is as smooth as possible, at least 1 minute, scraping down the sides of the blender jar as needed. Pour the sauce through a strainer into a bowl.

I swear to you this is worth it.

Simmer the sauce 15 minutes over low heat, stirring occasionally. This recipe makes about 2 cups of sauce and is so superior to the other one, you could make a big batch and freeze it for up to 3 months for those days when you don’t really feel like cooking. Bonus: it will use up the rest of those bags of chiles. 

Accidentally Healthy: Another main dish salad (because I still have A Quinoa Problem)

I’ve been struggling with my weight for most of the last 20 years, for better or worse; ironically, I was at my healthiest weight during the 5-year stretch in which I was growing babies. For many years there was no pop, no snack foods, no fried foods, and plenty of vegetables in the house, since I was trying very hard to raise my kids to make healthy choices. Thanks to the gluten issues we’ve never really been about packaged foods or restaurants/fast food. I’ve joined various gyms and tried various “eating plans” (we don’t say “diet” anymore, LOL). Nonetheless, age and Cabernet have inevitably crept up on me.

The biggest legacy from my efforts at healthification is that I really love main dish salads. I’ve totally caved on pop and snacks and fried stuff (the almond boneless chicken last night was excellent); mostly now I concentrate on drinking lots of water and eating enough vegetables. Imagine my delight in finding a WHOLE ENTIRE COOKBOOK about this! Possibly it’ll be the first cookbook from which I cook every single recipe.

What’s not to love in a main dish salad? It’s a great way to pack in lots of veg and feel virtuous enough to justify ice cream later on. It’s almost impossible to over-eat and feel stuffed afterwards. They’re infinitely customizable for the picky eaters in the family. They even look pretty. BONUS: If you are in charge of providing dinner to a group that includes vegetarians and the gluten-free, you’ll have plenty of options that taste good and look pretty (in the event that you want to be a teeny bit impressive)(these are very impressive vegetarians/gluten-free people)(and yes, I’m a bit of a show-off when it comes to food).

Adapted for the actual contents of my fridge from SeriouslyGood Salads by Nicky Corbishley.

Squash, Kale, and Quinoa Salad 

1 butternut squash, or the equivalent amount of sweet potatoes
1 large onion, sliced vertically
2 Tbsp olive oil
1 cup quinoa
2 ¼ cups vegetable stock
3 apricots, pitted and cut into bite-size pieces. The original recipe calls for small plums.
2 cups kale
3-4 cups chopped mixed lettuce (this is a great place for pre-made salad bags if that’s more convenient)
1 log goat cheese – 6 oz., I think? – cut into small cubes. I used garlic and herb goat cheese but plain would obviously be just as good because goat cheese. Keep it in the fridge until the last minute or the chopping process will result in gloppy irregular hunks (also delicious, because goat cheese).
1 cup mixed herbs; I used parsley, cilantro, mint, and dill

For the dressing:
2 Tbsp fresh lime juice (fresh makes a difference here)
1 tsp white wine vinegar
1 clove garlic, minced
1 Tbsp honey
3 Tbsp olive oil
1/3 cup chopped cilantro

Preheat the oven to 375 (sorry about the oven part if you’re making this in the summer). Toss the squash or sweet potatoes and onions with the olive oil and salt and pepper to taste. Roast for 25-30 minutes or until tender.

Meanwhile, combine the quinoa, stock, and a pinch of salt in a small saucepan. Bring to a boil, then turn the heat to low and simmer, covered, for about 20 minutes. Fluff the quinoa with a fork while it’s hot so it doesn’t turn into an unpleasant block.

Whisk all the dressing ingredients together.

Combine all the ingredients in a large bowl. I did all the leafy stuff and tossed it, then the quinoa and tossed it, then the heavier things. This kept everything more evenly distributed. Just before serving, drizzle with the dressing and toss once more.

Ideally you’ll add the dressing while the quinoa is still hot so that it absorbs the dressing more readily, but it did just fine sitting for an hour in the car and getting the dressing while it was closer to room temperature. The heat from the vegetables and quinoa will wilt the kale enough to make the texture closer to that of the lettuce, which also gets a little wilty but in a good way; super-crunchy greens would be a little jarring with the other textures in this salad.

The Chicken or the Egg? The Brunch Princess Says “Both”

Possibly Brunch Princess
has had too much coffee

Once upon a time, I was playing an RPG with my family in which we got to choose what kind of princess we wanted to be. I chose the Brunch Princess, because brunch is tied with linner as the best meal of the day. What’s not to love? You’ve already had some coffee and time to relax, plus it sets the tone for a lounge-y, vaguely self-indulgent day. The fact that empty nesting is in the foreseeable future means that we might actually do some morning-ish entertaining (though if I’m honest, I wouldn’t hold my breath if I were you). Brunch is also a good time for me to pretend I’m living out my dream of running a bed-and-breakfast, albeit with considerably less housecleaning and laundry.

While David is a committed hash brown/sausage patty/over easy eggs kind of guy, I like to venture further afield. I may or may not be embarrassed to admit how many cookbooks I have that are entirely dedicated to breakfast (thanks to a recent post-garage sale find, we have….considerably more cookbooks overall). And because I have all these single-subject cookbooks plus a ridiculous number of general cookbooks with breakfast sections, I found my new favorite recipe online.

Despite my raging, out-of-control sweet tooth, I’m really all about savory breakfasts. My actual favorite breakfast in the world is cold leftover Chinese egg rolls eaten straight from the refrigerator, but those aren’t brunch. (If you would say that they’re not breakfast either I’ll fight you.) This latest discovery, however, most definitely is brunch, or weekday breakfast or lunch or even, arguably, dinner if you paired it with a couple of sides. It’s good hot, cold, or room temperature; it scales up easily for future weekday grab-and-go breakfasts; and it’s got me experimenting with new spice mixes that I’ll probably be sharing sometime soon.

Properly it’s called Tajin Sibnekh, but I don’t speak Derja so at our house it’s That Chicken and Egg Thing, You Know, That Tunisian One. That’s a bit of a mouthful so possibly I should revisit the Derja thing. It’s inspired me to make harissa and ras el hanout, both of which are turning out to be very useful spices to have in my kitchen; while harissa in a tube is certainly easier to use, I like the flavor of the homemade version much better.

There are many versions of this dish including ones with liver (eeew) but the main ingredients seem to stay more of less the same. The hardest part is dicing the potatoes and the only trick is to spoon the chicken into the eggs a little at a time so your eggs don’t start cooking in the bowl. If I ever master a flatbread recipe it’s definitely going to be paired with this; but it really doesn’t need anything playing second fiddle. Happy brunching!

This particular version was found at allrecipes.com.

Tajin Sibnekh, or Tunisian Chicken and Eggs

1/3 cup vegetable oil
2 potatoes, peeled and cubed
8 oz diced chicken breast
1 large onion, diced
1 Tbsp harissa
1 ½ tsp ras el hanout
½ cup water
1 ½ tablespoons tomato sauce (this is super annoying, so I use half that amount of tomato paste and thin it with water)
1 Tbsp butter
1 bunch fresh spinach, chopped
8 eggs (I often end up using 1 or 2 more – you should be able to see and taste egg in the final product)
1 cup frozen peas
1/3 cup Parmesan cheese (if someone is being fussy about not liking cheese you can either omit this or sneak it in when they’re not looking)
Salt and pepper to taste

Preheat the oven to 400 and grease a 9x13 baking dish. I personally like thicker slices of this so I use an 8 ½ x 11 Pyrex dish that I found at a garage sale years ago. It’s a weird size and I’ve never seen another one (granted, I haven’t really looked) but it’s great for recipes in which the standard size is just a little bit too big.

Heat the vegetable oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Fry the potatoes in the hot oil until golden brown and tender, about 7 minutes. Remove with a slotted spoon and drain on a paper towel-lined plate. Stir the chicken into the remaining oil, and cook until white on the outside, but still pink on the inside, about 2 minutes. Add the onion and continue cooking until the onion has softened and turned translucent, about 5 minutes. Stir in the harissa, ras el hanout, water, tomato sauce, and butter. Bring to a simmer, then stir in the spinach until wilted. Remove from the heat and set aside.

Beat the eggs in a large mixing bowl until smooth. Stir in the peas, Parmesan cheese, and fried potatoes. Stir in the chicken mixture a spoonful at a time, season to taste with salt and pepper, and pour into the prepared baking dish.

Bake in preheated oven until the mixture is firm and golden brown. Check it after 15-20 minutes; it will definitely need a little more time if you’ve used a smaller pan.

I Don't Even Know Who I Am Anymore: Polenta Casserole on Repeat

Actual image of the sauce if you don't let it cool

There’s a fair amount of variety in our kitchen. While I’ve been known to complain that my family doesn’t appreciate the variety and quality of the meals I cook for them, the truth is that I’m the one driven by novelty. “Favorites” are noteworthy not because everyone loves them, but because they’ve actually been served more than once or twice. I could reduce my bulging Things To Cook folder to just things I’ve already cooked once and it would still be ridiculous; if my lifespan was tied to cooking all the recipes I’ve saved and reading all the books on my TBR list, I’d basically be immortal.

Ever since she announced her plans to go to culinary school, Anna has begun amassing her own cookbook collection (dabbing tears from my eyes, apples and trees, etc etc). Naturally this means that I have to cook from them, because my own collection is clearly inadequate and lacking in options. (The blame for the fact that my collection has outgrown its dedicated bookshelf and crept into the living room shelves rests firmly upon Anna’s shoulders and has nothing whatsoever to do with any recent shopping on my part.)

One of my biggest issues about vegetarian meals is that I end up feeling hungry an hour later. If I eat enough to get me through to the next meal, I’ve probably overeaten and will either feel gross for the next 2 hours, fall asleep on the couch, or both. If it’s dinner, there may be a Girl Scout cookie binge afterwards. I’m not opposed to vegetarian options – meat is ungodly expensive right now and I’m trying to make healthier choices – but not being able to include gluten or dairy limits my options more than I’d like. It’s frustrating to find a recipe that I’m excited to try and realize that there’s not any feasible way to make the substitutions. John is basically a stomach on legs these days and Anna’s boyfriend is a frequent dinner guest, so scaling up a meal enough to feed all of us can be daunting. And John is still picky about the vegetables he’ll eat and the amount of spice he considers acceptable.

This vegetarian casserole scales up beautifully; it’s on the table in under an hour (considerably faster if you make the mushroom mixture in advance and use quick grits); and everyone will eat it. Round it out with a salad for some textural contrast and you’re all set for the evening – no cookie binge required. I almost always have the ingredients on hand, so I don’t even have to do advance planning (of course I do anyway. I’m a control freak in the kitchen). It’s everything I like and nothing I don’t and I’ve made it 3 times in 3 weeks, which should tell you everything you need to know

Adapted very slightly from The Complete Vegetarian Cookbook by America’s Test Kitchen. If anyone is going to get it right, it’s these guys. Any snarky editorial comments are entirely my own, because the test kitchen people get to cook with dairy.

Rustic Polenta Casserole with Mushrooms and Swiss Chard

4 cups water, or 3 cups water and 1 cup milk (if you eat dairy)
1 cup coarse-ground polenta (you can substitute grits if that’s what you have on hand; the polenta is great but I don’t always have it on hand)
1 cup Parmesan cheese, if you’re one of those lucky people who gets to eat dairy
3 Tbsp unsalted butter, or the inherently-less-satisfying substitute margarine of your choice. As if choice has anything to do with it.
3 Tbsp olive oil
1 onion, chopped fine. Use a big one.  
1 ½ lb white mushrooms, trimmed and sliced thin
3 (or 6) garlic cloves, minced
1 tsp dried thyme or 1 Tbsp fresh
1 28-oz can diced tomatoes
8 oz Swiss chard, de-stemmed and chopped, or 16 oz. baby spinach
4 oz fontina cheese, shredded, to top the ideal version of this casserole which contains dairy and is even better than the vegan version

 Heat 3 Tbsp oil in a large skillet, then add the onion and ½ tsp salt and cook until the onion is softened. Add the mushrooms and cook until they have released their liquid and are well-browned, about 25 minutes.

While the mushrooms are cooking, turn the oven on to 400. Bring the water to a boil, add a teaspoon of salt, and slowly stir in the polenta. (Don’t dump it all in at once or it’ll get lumpy and make you sad. No, I didn’t do this, but I did read “The Witch of Blackbird Pond” and I’ve never forgotten that scene for some reason.) Reduce the heat to low, cover, and cook until done, about 25 minutes. Take the pan off the heat and stir in the butter and Parmesan. Salt and pepper to taste, then spread the polenta in a 13x9 baking dish.

The mushrooms should be just about done by now. Stir in the garlic and cook for a minute or so. Add the tomatoes and their juice and simmer until the sauce has thickened, about 10 minutes. Stir in the greens a handful at a time and cook until wilted (if you dump them all in at once you will be sad and make a mess so don’t do that)(also a gas stove will set greens on fire if you happen to drop a few onto the burner. Don’t do that either). Salt and pepper to taste.

Spread the mushroom mixture over the polenta, and sprinkle with the fontina if you’re allowed to. Bake 10-15 minutes. Don’t ignore the instructions to let this cool for 5 minutes or so before eating, or you’ll scorch the top of your mouth with the molten lava sauce.

I have no idea if this reheats well because we’ve never, ever had leftovers no matter how much I make.

 

 

Checking ALL the Bloggable Boxes: Okonomiyaki

Anyone who’s ever read a recipe blog can attest that food and nostalgia are inextricably intertwined. There are plenty of entries (including mine) that start with long-winded accounts of how a particular food fits into the author’s life story, and I believe that how you feel about this says a lot about how you look back at your life in general (I also wholeheartedly agree that there should be a Jump To Recipe button at the top of the page because sometimes you really do just want the recipe).

I read cookbooks for fun, so my opinion on this may be a bit skewed, but I think that we can’t separate the food we eat from the places we eat it and the people who prepare it and the conversations that happen around that meal. I write about what I’m doing at the time I’m cooking something so that I can look back and remember that slice of my life; I forget a lot of things and it’s nice to have a reference point. This has been particularly true in the Covid era, which has warped everyone’s perception of time passing and robbed us of so many of the usual touchpoints for memory. 2020 was long and strange and terrible, and 2021 was too, and I don’t have high hopes for 2022 either – but at least it can be a good year for cooking.

Somehow we managed to go from a complete standstill to everyone being insanely busy once the school year started, so dinner has become mostly another task to be managed and fit in to a crowded schedule. I have mixed feelings about this. There’s a lot to be said for hopping back on the meal prep bandwagon (thank you, Cassie Joy Garcia!) especially now that I’m sending meals over to my newly-relocated mother-in-law. Much as I adore novelty and new , nobody is going to perish of boredom if we eat the same things sometimes, and it’s perfectly normal to want to get something on the table in under half an hour.

Imagine my delight in coming across a dinner that ticks every single one of my boxes: 

• It was ready in under half an hour, start to finish, using ingredients I have on hand
• Everyone liked it (or wisely kept their mouths shut if they didn’t)
• It’s a dish that was introduced to me BC (Before Children/Before Covid) by my friend Kristi, so there’s an element of nostalgia (“remember when we used to eat at restaurants?!”)
• It came from the infamous and ever-growing To Cook folder
• It’s fun to say

There are many, many versions of this recipe out there. This particular one came (as many of my favorites do) from Deb at Smitten Kitchen, who adapted it from a recipe she found via Tasting Table.

 

Okonomoyaki

½ small head of cabbage, shredded or very thinly sliced
4 carrots, peeled into ribbons
5 lacinato kale leaves, cut into thin ribbons
4 scallions, sliced very thinly on the diagonal
1 teaspoon kosher salt
½ cup flour (we’re using King Arthur All-Purpose Gluten-Free flour these days)
6 eggs, lightly beaten
Oil for frying
Okonomiyaki sauce
Kewpie mayonnaise

Toss the vegetables together in a large bowl. Toss the mixture with the flour until all the vegetables are coated. Stir in the eggs.

Heat a large skillet on medium-high heat and coat the bottom of the skillet with oil. If you’re feeling excited about your new stove, you can use the griddle that’s oh-so-conveniently located between the burners and feel very proud of yourself for picking out such a good one.

I use my hands for this so it’s not very precise, but take ¼ - 1/6 of the vegetable mixture and put it in the pan, then smoosh it down with your hand or a spatula until it’s about ½ inch thick. Cook until the edges begin to brown (3-5 minutes), then flip with a large spatula. Cook on the other side until that’s brown too.

There are lots of recipes for okonomiyaki sauce online; if you don’t have an Asian grocery near you, it’s definitely possible to make your own (Smitten Kitchen’s version includes a recipe for this, btw). I keep forgetting to add Kewpie mayonnaise to my shopping list so I’ve had to make my own. But this is enough of a favorite around here that it’s worth the trip to get the bottled sauces, which are then conveniently in the fridge when your idea of getting dinner on the table doesn’t include that much effort.

To serve, squeeze the sauce back and forth across the pancake, then top it with a similar drizzle of the mayo. I know – this seems totally gross, right? Trust me, it’s delicious. The pancakes without the sauces are kind of boring. Sprinkle with toasted sesame seeds, seaweed flakes, or the shaker of both that you found while you were buying the other sauces at the Asian grocery store.

Help! I can’t find Kewpie mayonnaise!

No worries. For each cup of Hellman’s mayo, add ½ teaspoon Dijon mustard, 1 ½ tablespoons of rice vinegar or apple cider vinegar, and ½ teaspoon sugar. Mix well and put into a squeeze bottle.

 

Childhood Flashback Cabbage Soup

Eeeew, grown-up food!

When I was a kid, one of my favorite things was going out to lunch at Big Boy with my mom. I could never understand why she always got a Big Boy Combination (eww! sauce on burgers!) and cole slaw (eww! cabbage!) because everything about it looked and sounded gross – the only thing worse was when she’d get a bowl of cabbage soup to go along with it (because eww! cabbage!). Naturally I grew up to love both these things. Now that I’ve mastered the at-home Big Boy burger, it was probably inevitable that an afternoon spent riffling through the To Cook folder turned up a recipe for Elias Brothers cabbage soup, cut from the Food section of the Detroit News sometime in the 90s. 

(After we ate, we always split a hot fudge ice cream cake. Not being much of a dessert family, this was a huge treat - and my mom would always let me have the maraschino cherry. I suspect a future blog post is going to feature this. Maybe I can do a whole Big-Boy-lunch-of-my-childhood re-creation?)

I’m sure there are many, many tasty versions of cabbage soup out there. I’m sure your grandma’s or your aunt’s recipe is “so much better” (i.e., more authentic, more Polish, whatever). I don’t care. I misplaced this recipe for about 15 years and when I finally found it and made it, it was EVEN BETTER than I remembered. All those versions I tried in the meantime were simply inferior. Even my kids like this soup. It is the best, and you should go make a big pot of it really soon.

Childhood Flashback Cabbage Soup

46 oz tomato juice
4 beef or chicken bouillon cubes (no, you can't use stock with this)
2 cups chopped celery
1 ½ tbsp dried onion flakes
4 tbsp sugar
1 tbsp lemon juice
1 small cabbage, shredded
4 carrots, sliced or shredded

Combine tomato juice and bouillon cubes in a large pot. Heat, stirring, until bouillon cubes are dissolved. Add the remaining ingredients and simmer 1 ½ hours or until cabbage and carrots are tender. Add a ton of freshly ground black pepper.

 

 

The Play-Doh Fun Factory of the Kitchen, or How I Love My New Pasta Maker!

 

Let me just get this out of the way: an Instant Pot is a pressure cooker by another name, and an air fryer is just a convection oven. These are not new or revolutionary devices – they’re the end result of successful re-marketing of things that have been around a long time.

There. I said it.

I love me a good kitchen gadget, but I’m leery of anything that offers to revolutionize your cooking. People have been cooking for an awfully long time and I think we’ve pretty much covered all the bases; the rest, as I’ve said, is marketing. But that doesn’t mean that I can’t be swayed by a single-use gadget that takes up counter space, provided it’s the right gadget. And my new electric pasta maker is definitely the right gadget.

Gluten-free pasta is a pain. For starters, it’s stupidly expensive – anywhere from $3-6 for an 8-ounce box, depending on the brand and the store and the phase of the moon. The various blends and textures are suspect; corn and quinoa seem to be the best blend overall, but you’re more likely to find corn and brown rice, which disintegrates into a sticky mass if you cook it for one second more than called for (which has no relation whatsoever to the cooking time on the box, btw). (And that chickpea shit ought to be banned.) It can be hard to find even in larger grocery stores. The selection of shapes is sadly lacking; penne and rotini, for the most part, with the occasional spaghetti thrown in. Maybe macaroni if someone was feeling wild and crazy when they ordered. And fresh pasta? Fuggetaboudit. With the exception of the occasional Aldi Find, fresh gluten-free pasta is the unicorn of the pasta world.

David and I have ventured into fresh pasta making on occasion. It’s a fun project for an afternoon, even with the giant mess to clean up afterwards. My main complaint is that gluten-free pasta dough is a revolting slimy mass while you’re mixing it, which always makes me anxious that it’s never going to smooth out and become dough; and that feeding it through the rollers of the pasta machine is a giant pain in the ass. It has to go through a zillion times and it takes at least 3 hands, one of which I’m lacking, and the end result is usually still too thick because I get tired from all the cranking. Hence the “afternoon project” status.

Yes - just like this! 

The reviews for this particular pasta maker, the Phillips Pasta and Noodle Maker Plus, swear up and down that you can successfully make gluten-free pasta with it. I was willing to take a gamble on a half-price refurbished model that would take a month to ship – so much for instant gratification! – and I was looking for a Christmas gift for myself anyway.

It did not disappoint. I used King Arthur Measure-for-Measure flour mix and the recommended xanthan gum, weighing everything on the kitchen scale. The flour went into the hopper, the egg-and-water mix was poured through the top, and literally THREE MINUTES later I had fresh pasta extruding out the front like the Play-Doh Fun Factory. I was cooking for 4 of us so I popped in a second batch. It cooked up in less than 3 minutes and we had a really nice base for the Bolognese sauce I’d spent all evening simmering.

Cleanup was fast and easy. Yes, you have to disassemble all the parts, but there are no small fiddly bits and nothing to cut yourself on. Even the plastic die was relatively easy to clean with a brush and there’s space to store everything so none of the parts are likely to get lost. I’m ridiculously excited at the thought of being able to make fresh pasta in less time than it takes to boil the water, for a fraction of the cost of substandard dried pasta. Consider my cooking revolutionized!