serinde

Earlier in the year, I was let loose in a bookstore (you fools!) and picked up a copy of the World Central Kitchen Cookbook. Partially this is because I am a fan (and supporter) of the org and what they do, but also because I am getting extremely over trying to find recipes off the intarwubs, and I am turning once more to dead trees.

Things and stresses being as they are, I hadn't actually really plowed into it until several weeks back. The first recipe I made was the first recipe in the book, their Firefighter Chili, which is a Cincinnati chili[1] and not too far from my usual recipe. But it's very good and I recommend it to you. However, this weekend I went a bit further afield to the Chicken Chili Verde.

The recipe's pretty easy--
1. blitz scallions, cilantro, garlic, jalapeno, and whole fire-roasted green chiles [remember the chiles] in a blender to make a paste
2. saute onions and chunks of chicken breast in a pot
3. add the green stuff, as well as salt, pepper, cumin, coriander, and oregano
4. add tomatillos, chicken broth, and a can of chickpeas
5. Cook for a few hours and serve it forth over rice with lime juice, cotija, and maybe more scallions & cilantro if that's your kink.

The flavor profile is excellent; fresh, sharp, and has a slow heat to it that by the bottom of the bowl left me with a pleasing ring of fire around my mouth (giggity). But, there are two spots of trouble; the first is that simmering chicken breasts for two hours gives you something not unlike shoe leather; and the other is that it was wayyyyyy too watery. I think the cause is that the called-for fire roasted green chiles were a thing I could not find in any of the stores I tried; I had to sub in ~16 oz of chopped fresh green chiles, and ~4oz of chopped hot hatch chiles, both of which had a lot of liquid in them. So even after two hours of simmering, it's still very watery. It's worth doing again, though, and with more attention and a bit of tweaking[2]. For the remainder of this batch - it makes a lot - I may try straining it and seeing if that gets us anywhere.

[1] :touches earpiece: New information! I grew up with the understanding that a ground-beef red chili with beans is Cincinnati chili. Apparently that's not the case, and the true Cincy article has more Mediterranean (or indeed medieval) spice profile, and they put it on spaghetti?!? Weirdos.

[2] In addition to using chicken thighs instead of breasts, I think I would leave out the chickpeas. They make perfect sense if you're making a lot of food for people in a disaster situation, but in our mild and modest home life they aren't really adding much.

Another night of not sleeping so well; no obvious cause, though I suspect "internal screaming intensifies" might be part of it... We were awake before seven, which was tidy since we had given the hotel people 8am as our desired breakfast time. The food was reasonable, though paled in comparison with our nosebag in York. Got our act together and walked over to the British Museum at opening time.

My main goal there was the "Silk Roads" exhibition, which was excellent, and I enjoyed it a lot. Obviously, this being The British Museum™, there is a certain amount of awkwardness about how they got some of these objects (I'm looking at you, Aurel Stein), but still, it was very well put-together and was stressing - or more accurately, patiently explaining to Eurocentric white people - the rich and textured exchange of goods, ideas, and beliefs across half the planet for over a thousand years. It is quite deliberate that the first object, by itself in the entry hall, is a tiny Buddha statue made in modern Pakistan and found in Sweden.

Well, I spent a lot of time there, and my foot hadn't recovered from yesterday's exertions, so I was happy to limp over to the cafe in the Great Court for a cup of tea and a piece of "Christmas Slice" (this is like a bar cookie to us; pastry base with, in this case, a mince-pie-filling-ish layer on top). We then wandered through the upstairs eventually getting to the medieval bits, and I said hi to a few old friends like the big hack-silver pile, but I wasn't up to a lot more. At length we went over to Southampton Row and found a pub for lunch, splitting a perfectly fine steak & ale pie washed down with Old Peculier.

From there we walked down to Somerset House (which is in the middle of being set up for the holiday season with a skating rink and market and all that) and over Waterloo Bridge, taking photos on route, ending up at the British Film Institute (BFI). We had a glass of wine and rested our aching feets in their cafe, and though tempted by the 6pm showing of "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon", instead took a bus back across the river to Seven Dials to

drum roll

THE PLACE WITH THE CHEESE CONVEYOR BELT

This is in a large, extremely hip food hall inside a former warehouse (and for all the extreme hipness, a lot of the places in there looked like they'd be worth investigating). We have eaten much cheese and had a bit of wine and then we staggered home, because alas most of our points of travel are in orientations where it's just as fast to walk as to take p*bl*c tr*ns*t. I am sitting and typing this with a random program about the Gunpowder Plot on the telly waiting to see if I am going to explode.

Hotel room does not have a bathtub so I cannot soak my feet. Contemplating just riding a bus around all day tomorrow.

What do you get for the loved one who has everything (other than More Keyboards) and is not a stuff-ist? Well, if he's a foodie, you can make him a really nice dinner.

I was down with Yet Another Sinus Yugh for the latter half of this week, which put a serious crimp in my preparation plans, but I was well enough yesterday morning to scramble around doing all the shopping. I admit, I ended up taking the car down to Fairway; I feel terrible about this, but if they are going to shut off the 1 train all weekend... *snarl*

So, the menu:
Entrée
Tuna Tartare with Sesame
served with Juvé y Camps brut rosé cava
Main Course
Navarin Printanier (and fresh baguette)
served with 2010 Château Talbot (Bordeaux, Saint-Julien)
Dessert
Chili-Chocolate Hot Pots
...was supposed to be served with port, but I forgot to get some, and it turns out the cava went amazingly with it.

There was also supposed to be a cheese course afterwards, but we were full. So, cheese tonight, I guess?

I made the recipes exactly as they stand, with the following exceptions:
* I only used 1/4 lb. of tuna in the tartare, but made the full amount of dressing.
* Also I got microgreens specially from the farmers' market to serve the tartare on, and then completely forgot to use them. -_-
* You will note the chocolate hot pot recipe is not itself chili-chocolate. I added a hearty double-shake of cayenne and cinnamon to the melted butter/chocolate, and this worked well.
* You can't get the small white onions that Julia wants at this time of year, so I got regular white onions and chopped them into 1" chunks.

I started cooking at noon and we sat to eat at 4:30; I was working pretty solidly the whole time, but not frantically, and I did have time to dress the table nicely and wash-up-as-I-go and other niceties of that sort.

AKA, clean-out-the-fridge cooking.

( Turk-a-leekie Pie )

( Semi-Thai Duck Lettuce Wraps )

I am somewhat covered in bees this week. It's mostly not start-of-semester crap, strange to say, but other things that are all landing at the same time; and I am never at my mental/emotional best when I can't exercise, so this is of course going to end wonderfully for everyone. But Mom is coming to visit this weekend, and I need to clean house, and tonight was theoretically the only evening I can do it. At the same time, I am again overpressed with farm share bounty; but lo! there is a work barbecue/potluck tomorrow! My bees were making it difficult for me to even figure that out, and I lost some time to general lazy-ass nothing, but in the event it proved that the avoidance brain would rather cook than clean.

I am not posting the recipe process per usual, because I am using nearly straight-up recipes from Smitten Kitchen: Slaw Tartare, which cuts down on the strategic cabbage reserves as well as finishing up some cornichon and capers that have been sitting around forever[1], and Dimply Plum Cake (fnarr fnarr), because I have all of the plums in the world[2].

It is now 9:40 and I have not cleaned a blessed thing other than dishes. The whole place is covered in cat fur, I have pieces of a Bronzino sari dress and a half-done chemise all over the living room, the bathroom is a right mess, and the bed Mom is theoretically sleeping in may not in fact have sheets or pillows on it; I haven't checked. Oh, and I have no clean towels. Perhaps I shall buy new ones. ><

[1] Change from printed: I used half yogurt, half mayo.
[2] Change from printed: I used lemon olive oil in place of canola.

In which the photo taken of our lobscouse for the Glorious First of June Aubrey-Maturin dinner is, I find, the first hit you get if you do a Google Image Search for lobscouse.

Turnips are a rather fraught topic with me. I wouldn't eat them at all as a kid (except when Mom would sneak them into stew and say "no no, that's a potato"), and then, when I grew up and started having my own Thanksgiving dinners, audiovile felt that it was not truly T-day unless there was mashed turnip on the table. And thus I was at much labor and headache to make this happen. And only he would ever eat it, and not much of it, at that. Grump.

But, turnips I have, and therefore I must do something with them. Another CSA-provided recipe, thus:

1. Chop 3/4 c. onion, start sauteing gently in 2 tsp. butter.
2. Recipe calls for leeks. I have no leeks. How about a clove of garlic?
3. Peel and chop a turnip of ~1.5 lbs. (Or around 4 cups.) Put it in the pot when the onions have come along nicely, and let them saute for a couple minutes too.
4. Recipe says 6 c. of broth AND 2 c. water. This seems utterly insane for something described as "creamy", particularly since there is still milk to be added at the end. Let us start with 2 c. chicken broth and 1 c. water.
5. Throw in some fresh thyme because, as Hillary said of Everest, "it was there".
6. Let simmer, covered, until turnips are tender.
7. Immersion blend the snot out of it. Yeah, 3 c. liquid was plenty.
8. Stir in 3/4 c. milk, grind in some pepper, and...seriously? There's no salt in the recipe? I don't think so.
9. Let all that simmer for a bit.

Taste test: Not bad. There is a slight sweetness to it that you do not get with potato. I'll leave that on the warm until lunch as well. It's very virtuous, too.

30 min. later: Oops. The fire wasn't completely off. Mmmm, curdled milk!

I should be sewing, but instead I am cooking. BECAUSE STARVING IN THE STREETS etc. And also avoidance behavior.

( Yesterday: Spiced Pumpkin Milkshake )

( Bacon Bourbon Brownies )
Next I must find somewhat to do with a) the remaining roasted pumpkin, and b) the 3 lbs of praties. Don't say soup. I always make soup.

I have been drifting and useless all afternoon (grieving is important, I know this, but I'm not sure that pacing around howling I WANT MY KITTY to the heavens is the best coping method), and anything I go for to do has a Ranger-shaped hole in it. Still, in the words of Watership Down, there is grass that must be eaten, pellets that must be chewed, and holes that must be dug, and more immediately, a chicken in the fridge that must be made. While it roasts, I mind me of a Whole Foods creation that Erin mentioned to me on sewing night; a salad of black beans, corn, and sweet potatoes. I have the latter two which also must be eaten, so let's go ahead and do that as long as we are forcing ourselves to motion.

1. Husk and start boiling two ears of corn.
2. Peel & dice two sweet potatoes.
3. Chop half a small red onion (maybe about 2oz).
4. Extract the corn from the pot. Put the sweet potatoes in the still-boiling water.
5. Open a can of black beans. Wonder why no cat has appeared demanding theoretical tuna.
6. Empty black beans into a bowl and add the onions thereto.
7. Cut the corn off the cob, add to bowl.
8. Pull chicken out of the oven. Wonder why no cat has appeared to do the chicken dance.
9. When the potatoes are fork-tender, drain & let cool.
10. Mix the juice of one lime, 2 T. olive oil, some cumin, and a little salt.
11. Add potatoes to bowl; mix everything up.
12. Add the dressing to the bowl; mix everything up.
13. Let sit for a bit while the chicken cools down.
14. Fix a small plate and make yourself eat it, because low blood sugar will not help anyone.

It is pretty good, but I think it'd be better chilled than room temperature.

Although I like a nice bit of roast chicken as much as the next carnivore, it's almost the least part of roasting a bird for me. It's about the golden-brown, warm-smelling grease I'm siphoning off to make gravy. It's about that crispy salty herbed bit of skin right at the top of the breastbone that I nip off and nibble on before I carve. It's about the scent of the carcass rendering slowly down to broth overnight. It's about looking at the juicy breast meat and seeing ginger chicken salad and cold chicken sammiches and who-knows-what-else.

And it's about taking all of those bits and making CHICKEN PIE later in the week.