serinde: (food)
It's convenient to have your farm share land a couple days after you return from a two-week vacation and you have no food in the house. I had also possessed the wit to freeze some ground beef conveniently parceled into 3oz balls before I left; I put the Ziploc into the fridge when I left this morning, and lo! meat! Recipe so very loosely based on Smitten Kitchen's Lebanese stuffed eggplant that it might as well be something else.

1. Take two wee eggplants--one's 10-oz, one's 8-oz, well, how do we deal with this? The original desires you to take seriously tiny eggplants, hollow them whole, and stuff down. So let us do that to the smaller one, and cut & scoop out the larger one.

2. Chop some onion, start it sauteeing in a bit of oil. Should have used the lemon-infused oil. Hey ho. Also we are out of garlic. Poop. If you have some, add it here.

3. Chop up the scooped-out eggplant flesh, add to pan.

4. Liberally spice the mix with Auntie Arwen's Auspicious Omen curry blend, and also salt.

5. Add in the remaining portion of Sunday's rice, which is actually TJ's wild-rice-medley. It's probably about 1/2 c.

6. Add in about 6 oz. ground beef, which happens to be lean. Mix it all up and let the beef be a-browning.

7. When all is nicely integrated and cooked, lay the eggplants in the pan and fill them with glorp. There will be extra glorp. That's OK.

8. Add 1c. frozen chicken broth pucks. Realize that would have worked better without eggplant in pan. Take out the eggplant until the broth melts.

9. Re-add the eggplant.

10. Cover and let cook until the eggplant is fork-tender.

11. Remove one eggplant worth (reserving the 2nd for tomorrow), and blop 1/4 c. yogurt over top.


It needed more salt; rather a lot really. I think perhaps eggplant is one of those things that, like potatoes, soaks up salt? And I much regret my lack of garlic. But still, it is tasty and also very virtuous, leaving calorie allotments for plum cocktails.
serinde: (food)
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.
serinde: (ki)
Today marks the end of two (work) weeks of the New Regime; I get out of bed at 6am, do half an hour of yoga to Dengue Fever's "Cannibal Corpse", make a cup of tea or coffee (depending on the day), and drink that while I write morning pages for half an hour. Then I get ready for work and all that. Weekends are slack-permissible. I have fought the lizard brain down and not missed a day, in spite of tiredness, malaise, and purring cats.

Therefore the lizard brain has developed a new tactic. "It's been two weeks," it whispers. "What's changed? It's not doing any good. You might as well sleep in, or lounge in bed petting a kitty."

This is, of course, arrant nonsense. No, doing yoga hasn't made me lose weight--but I knew it wouldn't; not even when I was doing an hour of it three days a week. That's what the bike is for. And yes, my left leg is still very weak and not able to keep up--but it will take more than two stupid weeks to make that happen and I know this because I have been in physical therapy enough to be clear on how long it takes to see progress, particularly with a chronically, multiply screwed-up limb like this. The yoga's purpose is to keep me loose and flexible and to kick-start my metabolism in the morning, and it is doing those things. Secondarily I'm wanting it to help me get into that meditative, Zen-ish state, but this is harder when I have to tell myself what pose to do next rather than just follow a teacher.

Similarly, no, writing morning pages hasn't cured me of mental wharrgarbl and emotional roller-coasters & confusion--but that's not what it does. It drags all of that out into the open to be looked at, understood, and hopefully addressed. Eventually, yes, one expects a milder internal climate, but this is an ongoing and extended process and not to be sorted in a couple of weeks.

Finally, it has not cracked me loose on more public writing; one notes that my last Foojournal post was the one describing what new regime I was enacting, and there's been nothing since, here or elsewhere. OTOH, I have been focused on sewing, and secondarily research. So mental things are moving, and I will take that as a reason for cautious optimism. Wait and see, I think.

The milestones I'm looking for sound something like this:
* Getting up and doing being a reflexive habit, not a mental dialogue every. single. morning.
* Signs of my left leg getting stronger. Right now, rising into high and then crescent lunge is very difficult and shaky. My end-goal is for it to be as stable as my right side, but I'll take any visible improvement to start with. (Hilariously, I'm perfectly fine in Tree pose on that side, which is generally considered much harder. i do not even.)
* When I have any kind of mental agitas, correctly identifying and using the right tools to deal with it; which, I think, exhibits as "not losing several hours/an evening to wallowing, moping, internet uselessness, or other unhelpful and unproductive behaviors". This doesn't mean I can't slack if I feel that's the right pill for my ill, but it should be an active and mindful choice. (I can actually point to a level-up here; on Tuesday, I suddenly felt un-obsessed with the dress I'd been working monomaniacally on, and was sliding down the rabbit hole of totally wasting the evening. I stopped myself, sat down, and wrote down a list of everything I didn't feel like doing. After that, I realized I kinda felt like finally organizing my contact synchronization and upgrading my laptop to Mountain Lion, both of which needed doin'. Profit!)

I'm hoping that when the weather breaks and I can ride my bike more, this will help reinforce the benefits I'm getting, too. It usually puts me in a better state for the day (and also reduces my appetite, yay).
serinde: (food)
I remain overpressed with squash, and there's another box staring down the tunnel at me next week, so it behooved me to stir my stumps a bit. I'm kinda bored with roasting, though, so I was still looking for new and exciting options. I must tell you, I'm getting a lot of mileage out of Smitten Kitchen; the stuff there is generally good and -- bless her -- organized by vegetable. This recipe calls for being served over couscous, which I do have, but I don't feel like I need a starch whomp, so I ain't botherin'.

1. Start eviscerating a sugar pumpkin from its rind. OH RIGHT THIS IS WHY ROASTING THE SQUASH IS POPULAR. (The recipe calls for butternut, but let's be honest, most of the winter squashes are created equal.) After some cursing and wasteage, cut the flesh into chunks.
2. Chop a smallish onion and a few cloves of garlic.
3. Melt a tbsp. of butter and one of olive oil in the Dutch oven.
4. Get distracted by a naughty, naughty man on the phone.
5. Return to the kitchen. Oh dear. It is now a browned butter Moroccan stew. I am sure the Berbers had this problem sometimes. Sort of.
6. Skim the worst of the browned particulate matter off, then throw in the onions & garlic. Add some cumin, salt, pepper, and a cinnamon stick. Let that go for a bit.
7. Recipe calls for potato. There is no potato, but there is a sweet potato. We're all tubers here, amirite? Peel it and cut it into large dice.
8. Add the squash & potato to the pot, stir to coat with the spices, let it go a few minutes.
9. Add about 2c. chicken broth and a can of diced tomatoes.
10. Prepare to open the can of chickpeas. Watch in annoyance as the pull tab pulls without doing anything to the can itself.
11. Attack the chickpea can with a regular can opener. Well, that didn't work at all. Fortunately, we are equal to this task; call in the Swiss Army (or in this household, the Leatherman). THANK YOU.
12. Add drained chickpeas to pot, for fuck's sake.
13. Take the real saffron from the locked treasure vault, add three threads.
14. Bring the pot to a boil; turn down to simmer, cover, and let go until the hard things are soft (aheheh).

Results: Very fragrant and pleasant. One is meant to serve these with preserved lemons; and in the holiday season I had actually gotten an Imperial ass-ton of Meyer lemons, some of which were earmarked for experimenting thus, particularly after having read [ profile] caelfinn's article on same, but I never got the round tuit. Bah. Making do with plain yogurt.

There is one reason to serve over couscous, which is that it gives the broth something to soak into, but it's certainly not necessary.
serinde: (food)
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.
serinde: (food)
Dinner tonight is driven by three factors: 1) I am accumulating small winter squash at a rate of one per week, and I do not want to drown in them; 2) having just returned from a weekend away, there isn't much in stock beyond pantry items; 3) I'm tired and hungry and do not wish to faff around.

I found a recipe on teh intarwubs for simple squash + dessert: lop in half, rub one side with spicy and one side with sweet, and roast together. I couldn't quite leave it at that, of course.

1) Preheat oven to 375.
2) Lop squash in half, also flattening out the stupid spiky end bits that make them difficult to keep upright in the baking dish.
3) Pour a glass of the remaining sparkling GrĂ¼ner Veltliner, which admittedly has lost most of its sparkle. Oh hey, how many ounces are the champagne flutes? Measure it out. NO STOP IT FOCUS. (they're 3oz, by the way)
4) Brush each half with olive oil. Realize you meant to do the dessert half with butter. Oh well.
5) Mince about 1/4 of an apple fine, put in a small bowl.
6) What do we want in the dinner half? There's some goat brie. But no, that goes with fig butter. Put both in? No, that makes it too dessert-y. We also have regular goat cheese that has olives in it, that we haven't eaten because we hates the oliveses, yes, my precious. Maybe if we disguise it sufficiently it can be used up.
7) Peel & halve two cloves of garlic; add to dinner half.
8) Mince some onion, add to dinner half.
9) Take an herb rub that's made for lamb, rub liberally over dinner half, and toss the pile of allium with it. Sprinkle with salt.
10) Add some dried cranberries to the bowl of apple.
11) Look for brown sugar. How are we out of brown sugar? Grab maple sugar instead, toss fruit with that and some cinnamon.
12) Put all that in the dessert half, and dot with a little butter.
13) Bake for about 50 minutes. Add goat cheese to the dinner half as soon as the pan comes out, and let it glorp on in.

The success of this dinner is predicated, I think, on the fact that I made it while clad in nothing but diamond jewelry and a pearl tiara.
serinde: (food)
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.
serinde: (food)
I've gotten a fair amount of summer squash in the last couple of weeks. Some of it I chopped up and tossed with pasta and the previously-recorded garlic scape pesto (q.v.), but that didn't really put a dent. A few summers ago, I made a Nigella recipe of zucchini fritters, and they were fine, but awfully heavy for a spring dish if you ask me. So I turned to teh googles, and via Chowhound found a stuffed peppers recipe that might do; the moreso since one of the Chowhound commenters recommended throwing in some sausage, and lo! I also have turkey sausage from the green market that must be et!

0. Go to local store, which is an odd mixture of good yuppie chow (organic eggs, Q Tonic) and really shitty bodega (we will not speak of their produce). Be annoyed that they don't have the marinated feta. Get regular feta and a nice big pepper. Spend too much on the really good, pearl-sized Israeli couscous.
1. Start cooking about 1/2 c. of couscous.
2. Start frying about 1/2 lb. of sweet Italian turkey sausage.
3. Chop up about 1/4 c. of onion, and fry it in the pan with the sausage. Which is leaner than it seemed, so add a little olive oil.
4. Chop squash. Half a zucchini, and half a yellow squash? Maybe about a half pound all told? I did thin quarter-slices. Throw into pan when done.
5. Chop a nice-looking tomato (fnarr fnarr) from two weeks ago. Throw that in the pan too.
6. Yes, we have no fennel. Nor no oregano. How'd that happen? FINE. Put in cumin, coriander, flower pepper, salt. The sausage will carry the rest anyways.
7. It's looking kinda done. Turn the heat off.
8. Couscous is done. Put it in and mix it up.
9. It's too goddamn hot to roast a pepper. Put about a cup of the mixture into a ramekin and add maybe a Tbsp of crumbled feta.
10. Put ramekin in a not-very-hot oven just until the cheese is a little oogy.

It's really quite good. There is still lots of filling left, so I could stuff the pepper another evening if I'm so inclined. The bad news is, I still have a shit-ton of zucchini and yellow squash left.
serinde: (running)
(Where by "day 2" I mean "a week after day 1", on account of questionable weather + after-work commitments.)

First of all: backpack, massive improvement; no 20mph headwind, massive improvement. (Though I don't think the trip took much less time, if any.) However, in spite of the again-lower-40-degree temperatures and not wearing heavy clothes and a whizzo miracle fiber hiking backpack, there is still some sweating at the back. Presumably this will only get worse as the season progresses, so I had better take thought to that: either by having a complete change of clothes, or by offloading cargo to the bike.

In deference to $BOSS's warning that $OVERBOSS looks askance at jeans (though I have been wearing nice ones with blouse & jacket off-and-on the whole time I've been here), and also because I wanted to see how it did, I wore a skirt today, with a sleeveless knit top. I put my Layer of Authority in the backpack, along with nice shoes and my stockings, since I figure riding is going to be even harder on them than my usual thunder-thigh chafing. Not wanting to go commando, however, I dug out an old pair of leggings to keep the wind off of me. Attire was completed with pink sparkly socks, Skechers, and an embroidered stretchy denim jacket. I fear I looked too hipster for words, but the combination did work; I was comfortable for the whole ride, and my movements were not restricted. Nor was the load on my back too heavy, in spite of also carrying two apples, a quart of soup, and my usual impedimentia.

It is a beautiful, diamond-bright morning to be riding in the spring green along the blue, blue Hudson. Even the yucky industrial bits under the West Side Highway look picturesque. Another morning, when I have more lead time, I'm going to stop and take pictures along the way.

I have still not Let Go enough to lock my bike outside. Although there are many bikes there, most of them are beaten up, and I'm scared that my shiny new one will be the obvious target. Also, I think both of my wheels are quick-release, and I think therefore I need an additional wotcha to make sure no one walks off with the front one. (Does that happen? Would people steal just a wheel?)
serinde: (running)
I spoke not of it, but I got a bike for commuting on Saturday morning. (They were out of the puke-green in my height, so it's white. I am intending to put Hello Kitty decals on it.) Naturally it rained for the next two days, but today dawned sunny (if cold), and I have no post-work obligations, so there it is.

My route is fairly straightforward: my street (has bike lane) to the end, then two blocks on Riverside (no bike lane, hilly, cranky people trying to get on the West Side Highway), then onto the blessed Hudson River Greenway for most of the trip. One exits at 125th St (aaaaaaa) and then up the giant hill at Riverside Drive (aaaaaa) and then cut over a block to Claremont (AAAAAA CRAZY PEOPLE) and then you're on campus. So there is some danger at the beginning and the end, but most of the trip is car-free, which is good, because otherwise I probably would not be doing it.

I left at about 7:45am, clad in jeans, heavy knit shirt, leather jacket, and helmet; was carrying what I am pleased to call my "hiking purse" cross-slung. It isn't heavy in itself but I had put a bottle of water in one of the side pockets and, here was the kicker, my bike lock (Kryptonite U-lock) hooked to it. This has led to lots of me having to hitch the purse around and a crick in the left side of my neck (and possibly why my left ass cheek is sore but not my right one). Although since getting to the office I've attached the lock on its little holder widget to the bike frame, I think a backpack is still the clear and correct answer.

The ride itself was, on the whole, very pleasant, in spite of a strong headwind. The parklands where you're only about ten feet above the river are particularly nice. There were a small number of other cyclists around, which was reassuring that I Am Not A Lone Idiot; but also because some areas were remarkably secluded and possible danger spots. I am not a fainting flower, but until I get some conditioning back I'm not convinced of my ability to run over any importunate self-improvement societies. The greenway part is mostly flat--a couple long slow climbs and drops that aren't obvious to the eye, only to the pedal, but they don't signify. Exception: the big hill just north of the bridge was everything I had been warned about; it was only downhill this way, though that was scary enough, because it is very curvy and I didn't want to bang into anyone or anything; it will indubitably suck coming home. The street parts on both ends are fairly hilly and manage to be uphill both ways.

It is sadly indicative that there were five blockages in the Seaman Ave. bike lane in the two blocks between my door and Dyckman St. I think I may want to invest in a rear-view mirror for as much as I'll have to be exiting the lane to continue, but whether or no, it's going to require a lot of defensive driving.
serinde: (food)
Tomato Soup
Tomato (1), Garlic (1), Leek (1), Salt Pile (1)

1. Wash and chop bundle o' greenmarket leeks. Leeks are hard to chop, and also hard to get clean, and also I really really need to take my knives to be professionally sharpened again.
2. Melt some butter in dutch oven. OH HEY I REMEMBERED TO USE THE POT THIS TIME
3. Still chopping leeks. Oops, the butter is browning. Turn that shit right down.
4. Chop a disturbingly large clove of garlic. Put that and leeks in pot and start to saute.
5. Crap. Forgot that we need to blanch tomatoes to peel them. Put a saucepan of water on to boil.
6. Put six Holland tomatoes in to blanch.
7. Haven't had afternoon snack. Eat handful of almonds. Start choking on dry almonds. The answer to this is clearly a cocktail!
8. Start noodling through PDT cocktail guide. Realize that this will end perilously. Quickly decide to try a May Daisy (brandy, chartreuse, lemon juice, simple syrup).
9. But why is all the brandy (almost) gone?
10. Hey idiot, there's stuff on the stove. Rush in to extract tomatoes, since blanching is supposed to be, y'know, about a minute. Have a Three Stooges moment trying to find colanders or slotted spoons or any goddamn thing.
11. In the middle of this, have the Time Warner robot call to confirm or deny tomorrow's technician appointment. Frantically punch keypad on iPhone while trying not to get tomato blerk everywhere.
12. Peel and chop tomatoes; add them to the rather over-browned leeks.
13. Add about 1.5 c. water, some bay leaves, your Salt Pile, pepper, and thyme.
14. Cover and let simmer for awhile.
15. Immersion blend a bit, but not to a complete homogenous pulp.
16. Stir in a bit of cream, because why not?
17. If you are ambitious, make a grilled cheese sandwich with herbed goat cheese. The rest of us will have a slice of toast spread with said cheese.

It's good; a little thin perhaps (unsurprisingly, as there's not much there there in the soup; no protein or starch to speak of), but flavorful. Goes poorly with the cocktail but well with a vinho verde that was opened last week when it was NINETY FUCKING DEGREES.
serinde: (food)
I stopped at the store on my way home last night in quest of a leek, so that I could continue the Cooking With Skyrim series (because for some reason they put leeks in damn near everything). And lo, there were no leeks to be had, which greatly discomposed me and sent me wandering through the aisles in a woeful and confused fugue state. There was nothing else smallish that I wanted for dinner, so I ended up with a 3lb chicken. Well okay then; it's not the most diet-friendly thing on earth but it's been awhile since I roasted a chicken and why the hell not (and also I can eat off it all week).

When beginning preparations, it occurred to me that I also had some parsnips from the farm share that could use eatin'; and while at [ profile] sweh's parents' for Xmas, one of his mum's staple veg offerings is honey-roasted parsnips, which I found that I absolutely adored. So...

1. Pull parsnips from fridge. Notice two farm-share carrots that are getting withered and should be et. Pull them too.
2. Peel and quarter your veg.
3. Take note that the parsnips only probably need about a half-hour in the oven. Realize that the chicken will take longer, but how much longer? because you are chiefly accustomed to roasting the big commercial chickens in former life, which are twice the size.
4. Google for spatchcocked chicken recipes to get an idea. Find mostly instructions on how to spatchcock. -_-
5. Come across a Nigella recipe for chicken roasted with lemon and garlic and thyme. It's for a whole chicken not a spatchcocked one, but that don't signify.
6. Realize you still don't have a cooking time. Figure on it being about 50-60 minutes and stop caring.
7. Spatchcock the chicken, put in roasting pan.
8. Make a rub of thyme, lemon peel, salt, and Auntie Arwen's Garlic Insanity blend. Get it up under the skin of the bird.
9. Drizzle lemon-infused olive oil over the bird.
10. Pull some farm share garlic. Separate the cloves, but don't peel, and put them around the bird.
11. Cut a lemon into eighths, put around bird too.
12. Put pan into 400-425 degree oven. Somewhere in there.
13. Sample the interesting new liqueurs obtained from Astor. What idiot would drink Fernet Branca by itself? Blecch. But see how it could work in a cocktail.
14. At the half-hour point, get some of the chicken fat from the pan, toss the veg in it, drizzle with honey (or maple syrup, if you feel moved) and add to pan.
15. Page through the PDT cocktail book to see what you can do with the new stuff.
16. Make a "Hanky Panky" (gin, sweet vermouth, Fernet Branca). *koff koff* Soften it with four drops of Cherry Heering and two homemade maraschino cherries.
17. Realize you won't finish the cocktail before dinner's ready. Hey ho.
18. Check chicken at 1 hour. Looks done. Parsnips are a little tough but that's okay.
serinde: (food)
Tonight's creation is very, very loosely based on a vegan (!) intarwubs recipe for "Cajun-style rice and beans with collard greens", the latter being the operative ingredient I was trying to use up. I had no black beans, but I did have chickpeas; and fuck olive oil when you have andouille sausage. Thus:

1. Chop up about half a link of andouille and toss in the cast iron dutch oven, and let that get goin' while fending off the cat who has suddenly, miraculously got over his snit from having his paws washed because he is too Goddamn stupid not to step in his own peed-on litter on his way out of the box. Ahem.
2. Chop up some onion and red pepper (both farm share items too! whee!) and put into the pot. If the sausage isn't rendering enough delicious spicy fat, put in some olive oil anyways, fine.
3. Wash, de-stem, and coarsely chop up a mess of collard greens. Throw into pot and toss.
4. Once the greens have wilted somewhat, throw in half a cup of brown rice.
5. Add a can of chickpeas (include the liquid, we need some for the rice anyways).
6. Lacking crushed tomatoes, add a can (15oz) of whole peeled tomatoes, and just sort of moosh them up until they're sort of bite sized bits.
8. And some salt (but not enough, needed more later).
9. And some of the Auntie Arwen's Garlic Insanity blend, because why not?
10. Let simmer until the rice is done, adding water now and again because the rice is soaking up more liquid than you get from the chickpeas and the tomatoes.
11. About 40 min. later it will be all done. Consume while watching Young Justice on the YouTubes.

I really don't love the coarse leafy greens, but if one is going to eat them, this is a good enough way.
serinde: (food)
I thought pumpkin would last awhile, like the other squashes. Not this one. So, it was needful to deal with it. In addition, I have a terrifying amount of apples from apple-picking yesterday. There is an obvious solution to these issues.

1. Take thy pumpkin. Halve it, de-seed and de-pulp it, brush with oil and a little salt and pepper, and roast til done (I think I gave it about half an hour at 400 degrees).
2. Extract roasted pumpkin flesh, which was about 2 c. worth.
3. Peel, core, and chunk 1.5 large Jonagold apples, also about 2 c. worth.
4. Dice about, eh, 2/3 c. onion and a clove of garlic.
5. Take a 1" piece of ginger and grate it.
6. Fry those three items gently in some butter til they're all nice.
7. Add 2 c. of broth (I used mushroom bouillon), the pumpkin, and the apples. Stir up good.
8. Add salt, garam masala, thyme.
9. There's the tail end of some hot madras curry powder. What the hell, throw that in too.
10. Stir in maybe 2/3 of a can of coconut milk (I used lite, it works fine).
11. Let simmer 30 minutes or so.
12. Immersion blend to a nice soupy glorp, without splattering boiling liquid all over oneself for a change.

It is very nice indeed, the more so with a dollop of yogurt on top. I wish I had had real broth to use (whether chicken or vegetable)--the bouillonosity was coming through the other flavors, which is not preferable. Also, I may have gone a curry too far. Choose one, not both.
serinde: (food)
First pickup of the farm share was today. Included was a bundle of leafy green called "dinosaur kale". I had no idea what to do with it, so went to the intarwubs. The result is rather loosely based on the Portuguese calo verde; I didn't have chorizo, for instance.

1. Chop up about 1/4 - 1/3 cup of onion. Start sauteeing it in garlic-infused olive oil.
2. No chorizo but there is one remaining strip of slab bacon in the freezer. Pull it out, dice it, throw it in the skillet.
3. There are also spuds in the farm share. Take 3/4 lb. of them, scrub, chop into 1/2" dice. By this time the bacon is reducing nicely, so go ahead and throw the taters in.
4. One might add broth now, but one has no broth. Pour in 1/3 cup of rioja to get on with.
5. Put the kettle on quick and produce 1 1/3 c. of mushroom bouillon. Add to pan.
6. Hey idiot, this is soup. Maybe you should use the POT, not the SKILLET. Rectify the error.
7. Let cook ~15 min. until the potatoes are cooked through. Meantime, cut the kale (3 oz of it) into fine julienne. Kale HATES to be cut, by the way. Particularly the stems.
8. When the potatoes are done, bring out the immersion blender and start blending.
9. Rinse spatters of boiling liquid off self, tools, counter, stovetop, and cat.
10. Perhaps the potatoes, though soft, are too much. There is possibly a tool for this. Apply potato masher.
11. Round 2: Go! Immersion blender still not entirely doing its thing; perhaps insufficient liquid. Eventually bodge it into a stewlike state.
12. Input kale, stir around. Stare in astonishment as it inhales all the liquid. Keep stirring for a few minutes as the kale wilts a bit.
13. Add salt and a bit of fresh ground red pepper flakes because why not? Serve it forth.

The result is a thick porridge rather than a soup. But it is really, really tasty, and exactly what I needed after a rotten commute and a burgeoning cold and wah. The kale stems are a little over-crunchy, but it provides tactile interest, kinda like having nuts or something in. A+++ would cook again.
serinde: (on the short bus)
[In which I am describing to [personal profile] elibalin the cleaning out of my former henchperson's office, which office I have snarfed because it's one of the best on campus.]

[personal profile] serinde: I found a few items of interest.
[personal profile] serinde: E.g., a cute little palm-sized screwdriver widget. I will loftily ignore the fact that it's from Goldman Sachs.
[personal profile] elibalin: A Goldman Sachs-branded device for screwing. Indeed.
serinde: (food)
Gourmet Garage is wont to have eye round steaks for super-cheap; this is appealing to me, because a) nice lean cut of meat (she said, looking sadly at the scale), and b) they come in single-serving packages, and c) no really I mean cheap. However, the couple of times I have gotten this cut, it's come out very tough and unpleasant, even when using recipes Adapted for the Meanest Understanding To Make It Nice.

This time I decided, for a change, to plan ahead. I was tolerably sure I'd be home for dinner most nights this week (thank heaven, considering the weekend's impending Bataan Death March), so I bought the item...and instead of cooking it when I got home, I had something else I'd picked up and prepared a marinade to ready it for tonight's dinner.


1. Take ye a .41 lb. eye round steak.
2. Take ye the last lime (guess what I forgot to pick up more of). Juice it into a bowl.
3. Mince a clove of garlic; add to bowl.
4. Grind up some salt, and add that too.
5. Put in about that much cumin. 1 tsp, maybe?
6. Stir it all up then put in a quart Ziploc.
7. Insert the aforementioned steak.
8. Leave in the fridge until tomorrow's dinner. Turn it before you leave for work in the morning.
9. Heat the skillet on medium, with a little oil.
10. Fry the steak for a couple minutes each side.
11. Serve with a nice rioja.

Oh, it was nice; so very very nice. I look forward to infinite possibilities with this SCIENCE!.
serinde: (bowtie)
Some several months ago, [ profile] nedlnthred were enticed to hitch our wagons to Ships and Dip, the fourth of that name. The concept, if you do not feel like making clicky, is that the Barenaked Ladies and a bunch of bands they like / are friends with get on a Caribbean cruise ship and invite you, yes, YOU along. So it's like a regular cruise, except that awesome music is constantly breaking out all over. And, as Tami (our Pied Piper) put it, wouldn't you rather go on a cruise with a pack of alt-rock fans than with blue-haired old ladies playing shuffleboard?

Yes. Yes I would.

Saturday: Miami )

Sunday: Getting on board, settling in, music! )
serinde: (food)
The challenge: to find something to stuff in a pita, using only the contents of the somewhat-bare cupboards, as we do not choose to stock up on supplies when we will not be eating at home for a week. So what goes in a pita? Protein, because we need it; and what flavors that are somewhat middle eastern, or at least pass a squint test?

1. Heat some toasted sesame oil in the skillet.
2. Add mustard seeds. Heat up until they start popping around, at which point hastily put a lid on top.
3. While that's going, scatter some sea salt on the cutting board. Take two big garlic cloves, slice in half, extract and discard the sprouty bits. Crush the cloves into the salt with your knife blade. Throw in the skillet.
4. Take ye a cup or so of the cooked, chopped-up chicken left over from Twelfth Night, of which you have a gallon Ziploc in the fridge. Dump it into the pan and break it up.
5. Slice a bit of red onion and throw it on in.
6. You are, of course, stirring around now and again during all these steps.
7. When the chicken is a bit warmed up, liberally add cumin, a bit of paprika, and some dried mint that's way past its best but still has a bit of aroma. Thrash until everything's uniformly coated.
8. Put in some pomegranate molasses--probably about a tablespoon, all told, maybe a touch more. Again with the thrashing and the coating and what-not.
9. Let it cook together until the chicken is heated through. Add salt to taste. Serve it forth with your pita and glob some yogurt on top if that's your kink.

Eminently successful! I probably ate too much.
serinde: (food)
Posting this link so I don't space it again: Which it's a Dinner for the Glorious First of June.


serinde: (Default)

September 2013

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