BingoFest

22 November Tuesday

Yesterday, I reviewed my recipes, looked online for sales and availability, and slightly modified my plan. It looks like crab season has been delayed so that will need to wait till Christmas. I also thought I would not find chestnuts, but they´re they were. And fresh cranberries. All is well.

This morning, I bravely went forth to the grocery store where my young Tom was waiting for me, featherless, decapitated, and resting in a sarcophagus of vacuum sealed plastic. He now lies in state in a roasting pan in the fridge, carrots, Brussels sprouts, green beans, surround in silent attendance, the plebeian condiments and pickles crowd the balcony. It is quite moving and reminds me of the dear Queen.

Of course, things are still in motion, Thanksgiving is a wild and unpredictable affair, and one more trip to the store is needed. The core of the meal is intact. You see, I keep a separate doc with menus, quantities, prices, and other things that are even more boring than this that I think a lot of people don´t really want to know about. You know, how the sausage gets made. Speaking of which, they didn´t have sausage at the market. Anyway, I am now confused as to what is on that doc and what I´ve shared with you, and I don´t want to have to go through all those writings to see what I´ve written to whom and who cares? The point is, I´ve also decided to do something different and more exciting with the sweet potatoes, if I haven´t told you what it is, don´t worry about it, you´ll find out later. If I have told you, keep your mouth shut so you don´t ruin it for the others. Here we go!

19 November Saturday

A lot of people haven´t been asking me how I´m feeling about the Thanksgiving prep. Well, let me tell you.

It´s that strange moment, the horses are in their stalls, waiting for the gates to open. And, they´re off!! I want to cook right now, but right now is too soon. Too soon. Timing, we are told, is everything. So, how do we time things? I am asked, time and again, how the dishes come out in a moment at just the right temperature for serving? How do you plan a meal that may take several days to prepare? It´s high time I told you, but it may take a minute, so settle in.

Thanksgiving has expanded in the last several years, and I for one am a fan. It began with Obama. He made the day after Thanksgiving a national holiday, which meant that many began to take Wednesday as a vacation day because they no longer had to on Friday. This meant that because a lot of people began to travel on Wednesday, Tuesday became the new hot day to travel, and since it is a half day at many schools, why bother? This lead, logically, to what´s the point of going to school or work on Monday for a one day work week? Now, it seems, many schools don´t meet at all the week of Thanksgiving, which means many travel during the weekend, even leaving town on Friday, as many of my friends have.

So, here I am, a quiet Saturday, with lots and lots to do, but today is planning for the action. I have created a menu, a shopping list, a schedule of cooking the week of, beginning on Monday. Let me first address the notion of stress.

Stress. There are good kinds and bad kinds. Exercise, for instance, is putting controlled stress on the body for its ultimate improvement. Cooking is stressful in that you are preparing ingredients purchased with your money, to feed and nourish yourself and people whose thoughts and company you care about, and you don´t want to disappoint anyone, do you? Fine, OK. But if you absorb these feelings into your body, well then, dinner gonna suck. You will be unhappy, hate the holidays, entertaining, and ultimately, your family and friends. The preparation of the food is the joyful act of putting it all together. You don´t want to make three thousand dishes? Don´t make three thousand dishes. You don´t want to make dessert? Don´t make dessert. Buy it or ask someone else to bring it. You need a little help the day of? Ask for a little help the day of. But, whatever you do, don´t act out the stress. The raw turkey sits there, mocking you, taunting, ¨I´ll never be ready on time¨ you can hear it speaking to you. No. You are in charge of your kitchen. You are an intelligent person at least evolved enough to understand the concept of added heat to raw poultry equals cooked food, fit for human consumption.

The preparation of the turkey is one of most written about and varying in method of all foods. It is fascinating the variety of methods for what seems on the surface to be such a simple preparation. I can´t even get into the stuffed vs. non-stuffed varieties. I am talking about the roasting of the bird. We always want the same thing- crispy skin, equally cooked, moist breast and legs and thighs. Have you ever seen a recipe for roast turkey that guarantees flabby white skin, bloody, undercooked thighs, and tough, stringy sawdust breasts?

Every cookery writer seems to have their own, singular way of preparing the bird. Julia Child cut hers up into pieces before cooking and put them in to roast at different times. She reassembled it before serving. Jacques Pepin does something similar in that he makes an incision at the thigh joints above and below to increase the cooking time of the dark meat. He also flips the turkey over twice during the cook time. America´s Test Kitchen has done a variety of things, including covering the breast with foil for the same reason as the previous two, to prevent the breast from overcooking will the legs are getting there.

When it comes to skin crispy, there´s butter smothered, butter and herbs under the skin, Martha Stewart´s method of a wine and butter soaked cheesecloth (genius), or a mix of either cornstarch and water or baking powder and water all over the outside to dry out the skin and brown it. Of course, we should salt and pepper the turkey two days before and let it do its magic. I don´t like wet brine, I think it changes the texture of the cooked meat in a way that doesn´t appeal to me.

This year, I am going to do something old-fashioned. I am going to make a paste of butter and flour and rub it all over the well salted turkey. I will also spread some flour on the bottom of the roasting pan which will toast while the turkey juices and butter drip on top of it. This will be the pre-thickened mixture that will make the gravy. This is Fannie Farmer´s method from 1896.

15 November Tuesday

I’ve written about a number of foods on this blog, all of which brought joy, but which ones bring comfort? Why is a grilled cheese with tomato soup more comforting than a tomato salad? Or is it? Perhaps those who grew up eating raw tomato salads find them more comforting than a grilled cheese, who knows? Almost all Asian dishes I’ve made have been what I’d call comforting, even though most of them don’t have cheese or yeast bread or other American-type things we consider comforting. Ginger, garlic, chili paste, sesame oil, are comforting.

Thanksgiving is but a week away, and I do not consider the meal to be comfort food. Indeed, quite the opposite. Even though we may enjoy the meal, and revel in the seconds maybe thirds, it violates one of the cardinal notions of comfort food- it is easy to put together. Thanksgiving is a labor of love, it is one of the very menus enshrined, sacred. It is the closest thing we have to a prescribed ritual meal in our culture.

For lunch and dinner today, and probably tomorrow, Chili con carne, or as it is commonly called, Chili. Now Chili is a controversial dish, as there are versions in Texas, New Mexico and all over the Southwest, and there are many variants in the Southeast and Northeast. All of them vie for supremacy, the chili cook offs, the beans or no beans nonsense. Do you pile it on a piece of cornbread? Do you like oyster crackers, Saltines, tortilla chips? Do you serve it on spaghetti? On a hot dog? Do you put additional raw onion, cilantro, sour cream on top? I mean, it’s not nonsense to those that are passionate. I am not afraid to embrace my Ohio roots. I like a little ketchup with hash browns and scrambled eggs. What really, I mean for the love of pete, is wrong with iceberg lettuce? Nothing, it’s delicious. So, what then of a ground beef chili with green peppers, onions, tomatoes, black beans or any beans, a few spices, saltine crackers and cheddar cheese?

Another of mom’s cooking tips-

Take the onions, garlic, and tomatoes and blend them to a liquid then pour over the beef as it is cooking. It makes for a very thick but not rich sauce, it brings everything together. I have cooked it this way since I was in college.

Speaking of which, I once made a huge pot of this chili in my dorm kitchen in London. Several of my friends had never had what they call Chili con carne, so we pooled our resources and put one together. It was a cold and rainy Saturday, I was feeling nostalgic for home, we were eating and drinking and laughing. By the end of the afternoon, a few of use had eaten so much chili we had to lay down on the hard kitchen floor and moan and wail for about forty five minutes. I have never overeaten so much before or since.

Not even tonight, when the cold, late autumn air pierces every energy inefficient crevice of the apartment, and it is filled with the scent of meat and spices rich and rare, the crackle of chips as they rain into the bowl, the steaming hot stew, soup, whatever it is. More like a stew, then the shower of golden sharp cheddar. All is well. Perhaps even a old comedy on the tv set.

Why can’t things be like they was? Well, funny, things change and they don’t. The things we loved we still love. The smell of green peppers cooking in the pot is the same as it was when generations before cooked them. Food is comfort food, cook and eat well.

12 November Saturday

The turkey has been reserved. I have committed myself to this project. Because the family will be visiting for Christmas, I am hosting dinner for several friends at Thanksgiving, which gives me a little more lee-way over what I serve. I wrote earlier that I would serve all the traditional side dishes, but that was old Benji. New Benji is excited and ready to shake it up. Now, I am love with edible art once again and it’s time to come up with the menu. Thanksgiving dinner is usually a big thing like an opera and keeping everyone interested and looking forward is key. Here’s the way I like to do it.

The Welcome Hour. I intend to serve the main course at 6pm, working backwards, the house will open for business at 3pm. At 3pm, the bar such as it is ready for action and the first nibbles are set out. I use three rules when putting a menu together: 1. Don’t repeat major ingredients. This not only applies to things like pumpkin or cranberries, but items like cream and cheese. Note your ingredients and in what order guests will be consuming them. 2. Let one type of flavor dominate each course. As the main course is butter savory, let other courses be spicy, sour, acidic. 3. Don’t serve any food without the intention of guests eating it. This last one is something many don’t think about enough. You might open a can of nuts, a jar of olives, a bag of peppermint patties, a log of salami, chips and dip, and a few wheels of El Presidente, and VOILA! you are well on your way to ruining people’s appetites, and cheapening the experience. The first dishes should stimulate the palate and make the guests want more. This is important- put out only a few things no more than three nibbles, let’s say. If you don’t want too much work, olives and pickles are really good. I like the work, so tapenade crostini. It’s a great time for a light seafood cocktail with a tangy dip. Spicy toasted pumpkin seeds are enticing. Gougeres or cheese straws are really nice, although I will not serve other cheese, sausage, bread, or sweets at this time. Think spicy, sour, light. Saliva inspiring. Bloody Marys and mulled cider to drink.

To the table. Soup’s on. This is where we made add a little heft. How about Butternut Squash with a swirl of olive oil and fresh thyme? Cream of Mushroom? This year, I want Oyster Bisque with a dollop of Dungeness crab meat on top. That sounds good to me. Another tip- when you pull the finished turkey out of the oven, and the gravy and stuffing are ready to go, that’s when you heat the soup. The turkey should rest for thirty minutes before carving and allow thirty minutes between the soup and main course. Why not have them be the same sixty minutes? You can add time to that and serve another dish: an arugula salad with pomegranate seeds and goat cheese. Bring forth the dinner rolls.

Then the big plate. Roast turkey stuffed with sausages and chestnuts, a bread and sage dressing, gravy, mashed potatoes, roasted sweet potatoes, green bean casserole, Brussels sprouts, cranberry compote.

After that, we need a break. This would be a great time to serve the salad, but because a lot of people won’t eat the salad after the main course, I won’t serve one. If the salad is light with no cheese or cream dresssing, this is a great digestive aid and palate cleanser.

Finally, now hold tight to the reins, dessert. There should be a good hour between finishing the main course and tucking into that pie. I’ve seen too many times the abhorrent practice of serving dessert with the main course or immediately afterword. You may have heard “now save room for dessert!” perhaps not remembering that you can wait a little bit for your body to digest, make a space, and put us in mind for pumpkin pie. Put the coffee on, Helen. Why then, does the dessert become part of the main course?

I read recently that the average American family spends five minutes a day actually eating the food at dinner. This means that we are not accustomed or entirely comfortable with longer meals. We don’t know what to do except eat constantly until we run out of items to eat, then leave the table. We want to eat the food, but we also want to go away. Eating dinner is the activity. Eating dinner is the activity. Eating dinner is the activity, not the impediment to the activity. I have been to meals where eating is rushed manically, horrible things like cleaning plates as guests finish, or guests leaving the table to go back to what they were doing before after they finished, everyone leaving, one by one.

Calm, Benji, calm. Eating dinner together is good for your family, it’s good for your life. Eating dinner is the activity.

Back to the dessert. If you have prepared traditional fruit pies like apple or cherry, great. If you’ve made the ubiquitous pumpkin pie, pecan pie, sweet potato pie, remember not to duplicate those ingredients in other dishes. People will become tired of pumpkiny things if there are too many of them, by which I mean two. I’ve made a spicy ginger pumpkin cheese cake, which is absolutely heavenly, but is so dense and all the things, that a sensible cook would avoid using either cream cheese of any kind or winter squash of any kind in the rest of the meal.

So there are meals to prepare before Thanksgiving, and tonight I did another stir fry.

I used to be a fella that just couldn’t cook rice, but by ignoring other people’s advice, I’ve gotten pretty darn good at it. Here are a few thoughts about rice, by which I mean a standard rice that you make regularly to go with anything. My favorite is jasmine-more flavorful than typical short-grain, and sturdier, more toothsome than basmati. Of course, we’d use different rice for different preparations, we’re talking the everyday steamed rice that’s easy, a recipe you can memorize.

First, many cooks will tell you must ignore the rice whilst it is cooking. This is not a good idea. Always use twice the water to rice, let is come to a rapid boil, turn the heat down, put a towel on top of the pot, and cover the pot with the lid. Leave it alone for about ten minutes. Then, sweet, gentle, caring friends, remove the lid and very gently stir it to determine the water to rice ratio. The other cooks don’t want you to break up the grains, but I know you, gentle reader, will lead with the shoulder, not the wrist, and just make loving, slow, stirs in your rice. At this point, it will either be a little watery or look like it’s almost just right, starting to dry out. It will not, repeat not, be gloopy or thick. If it’s wet, let it cook uncovered, if it’s drying out, what do you think? Put the lid back on, and please turn off the heat. Browning rice that adheres to the bottom of the pot indicates a careless cook who thinks everything will be ok, and all the guests will tolerate the outcome, whatever it may be. Wet, chiffy rice indicates a neurotic who is afraid of being thought to be the former. Hide your flaws. Check the rice occasionally, but own it when the cooking is done. Toss it with a fork, get some air in, taste it to make sure you like the consistency, salt if you must, no pepper, serve. Nothing else, no butter, no olive oil, or anything. Rice.

As for the stir fry? Garlic, ginger, onion, red chili flake, soy sauce, chili oil, sesame oil. ‘Nough said.

9 November Wednesday

OK, everyone can breathe. The election is over, and as with everything else, it’s not as bad as we thought. What better night to remember the ancient practice of meeting someone at the corner? This time has become so encumbered with specificity which no real person needs to/wants to be wedded to. In the great cities and neighborhoods our country, telling someone to meet at a street corner around a certain time is an exhilarating prospect. Let’s meet around this time, maybe or maybe not, let’s see how the bus is getting down Mission St. Where and what shall we eat? It’s an impromptu, pizza, pub, pasta, dim sum, tex-mex, real mex, thai, sushi, curry, curried sushi pizza burrito? I waited at the corner for a friend, looking at the bright, full moon on a cold, windy November night. He arrived, we walked, chose an eatery. It was great, old school as they say; wonderful and magical.

We are so spoiled for choice, and all the restaurants that line the streets serve our needs morning, noon, and well into the night. Why cook at all? Well, that’s a topic for another time, or maybe never, as the reasons for creating our own food are well known, and basically, the whole point of this blog. I mean, right?

So who can explain the phenomena of the diner? They make pancakes, eggs, bacon, hash browns, the usual American breakfast fare, slung into our faces for ease, convenience, and price. So, I will tell you of one of the greatest diners ever tasted on these shores or others, and I offer it as a Requiem, because the place is no more.

If you are familiar with the great city of San Francisco, you know that the best places to eat are not always in the best places for other qualities of life. Such was the case of Moulin Rouge Restaurant, which stands at the corner of Geary and Leavenworth in the Tenderloin. The joint was run by the an older Japanese couple, who I imagine were married the day after they purchased this diner, no later than the early part of 1970, when they must have agreed on the decor, which never changed henceforth. I wonder how I can find and interview them? Magnificent omelettes, bacon, toast, pancakes, those little boxes of cereal. And the hash browns from another dimension. All made by one person to order. Mr. took the orders and refilled the coffee, Mrs. cooked the food. Crappy coffee, cheap tea bags. Everything wonderful, the creak of the floors, the old plush carpet that kept the place warm and smelling of smoky bacon fat. Now, the diner is closed forever, and I hope its proprietors are enjoying a wonderful retirement.

7 November Monday

This morning, I arranged my collection of sauces and flavorings that require refrigeration. I discovered several bottles of hot sauce, soy sauce, chili oil, oyster sauce, and various other Asian pastes that should be used up. I went to the corner store where they had bags of fresh bok choy, and bingo bango bong, you got yourself a stir fry. A package of chicken breasts? You bet! Time to get the wok out, ginger, garlic, a bowl of soft jasmine rice. Yes, indeed. And what better to follow this made in a flash, literally, than a slow baked persimmon pudding? Cream, butter, cinnamon, sugar, honey, persimmons, a little flour, baking soda and powder, and toasted pecans. Bake for three hours.

We’ve already discussed persimmon anxiety, which belongs to our modern age where we need everything to be perfect and fill our understanding of what is sound kitchen science. After we’ve chosen the right persimmons, we discover that they don’t age at the same rate. They are like people in their 40s, I guess. Some get soft and squishy, some stay firm and well, pudding resistant. I got two of each. A friend was over the other day and asked what that fruit was that appeared to be drooping over the edge of the fruit basket. It is a persimmon, I said. One that has tarried too long at the fair, shut down the pub, you don’t have to go home but you can’t stay here. It almost looked as if its tongue were hanging out of its mouth. Into the pudding, without resistance! A thick, dark red jelly that squirt slops out in a giant blob, which smells of the past summer. She trapped the sun’s rays in her bosom, only relinquished by the supple squeeze of me, the pudding baker.

The other two needed great coaxing. I had to squeeze firmly, beg, plead with them to give up their jelly. Finally, I conquered. The pudding is in the oven, the family of fruit are singing together in their cream bath.

I turn my thoughts to Thanksgiving. I am hosting a few friends, and have already decided to all the traditional side dishes and pumpkin raisin tart, but I’m not wedded to the idea of serving turkey. It’s super expensive this year, and many food articles and blogs etc. are suggesting beef for the feast. I don’t know. I think at least I will do some nice roast chicken, but I do love turkey for Thanksgiving. Maybe I can find a small one that’s the same price as two chickens.

Then, of course, the protest. “Thanksgiving without turkey? You may as well cancel.” Well, OK. I will search out the turkey. Deep down inside, I have to agree.

The persimmon pudding is heavenly light, with a chewy, crispy crust all around it. It’s flavor is mild, more cinnamon and pecans than persimmon, but the persimmon is definitely there. OK, more to come.

26 October Wednesday

I remember it well. Going to the grocery store on a Saturday morning with my mom and brother. She’d have a large stack of coupons in her pocketbook, and we’d sift through them looking for deals. I miss that we don’t still have this simple system. It seemed to me to be a treasure hunt for grown-ups. First, you had to find the coupon, then the store, then the object pictorially represented on the coupon. By the time you loaded the car, you felt weightless and exhilarated having completed the experience and saved twenty three cents on a box of Rice Chex.

I find our new system somewhat less reliable as the following story illustrates. It requires being involved in a program like Amazon Prime which entitles you to deeper discounts at Whole Foods for a flat annual membership. There is something similar at Safeway with no fee for the card. My favorite grocery store, Gus’s Community Market has no such thing but they do offer deals and sales for all.

Today, I went to the Farmer’s Market at Civic Center and got beautiful persimmons, carrots, butternut squash, Brussels Sprouts, celery, onions and Eureka lemons, fresh off the tree. And yes, some of the most delicious freshly harvested walnuts. If you don’t like walnuts, it’s because you haven’t eaten these. Oh yes, some freshly foraged Cinnamon Cap and Trumpet mushrooms. They’re were a few tomatoes, green peppers, and the like, but the root vegetables, the mushrooms, apples and fall fruit were in the center of the table. Also, weirder lettuce like frisee and some a that kinda thing were laying about. The bounty, the sunshine, the friendly vendors, such a pleasant experience.

I made my way home and needed to do another shop run to get butter, milk, and a few other staples. A quick review of the Whole Foods website indicated what was on sale at the shop I was going to. I go on the bus, and rode to the nearest outlet. They had all the things I wanted, but they were not on sale. They were the same price or more than the regular price at Gus’s. No savings for Benji! Unless, of course, I don’t buy anything here. So, I left Whole Foods, walked to Gus’s where everything I wanted was on sale, so I got all my food for less. End of story.

I’m sorry dear reader, I do value your time.I realize that story was kind of a dud. I’m sorry I’m not addressing the real elephant in the room, that anxiety we’re all feeling, the slight dreaded despair that revolves around our insecurities regarding persimmons. Persimmons.

Some are flat, some are round, some are pale yellow, some are deep orange, some soften, some remain firm. Some are intended to be eaten raw on salads, some are intended to be baked in desserts, especially Persimmon Pudding, which is a treasured dish in the Hoosier state, and one that many will defend vehemently. For instance, the New York Times once published a recipe for the pudding with Fuyus, a flatter variety that is often used in salads. The response was swift and merciless. Those high falutin’ New York foodies don’t know anything about Indiana Persimmon Pudding! You make it with what they call American Persimmons, by which I think they mean the persimmon called Hachiya, at least here on the West Coast.

Those are Hachiya persimmons. They go by a variety of different names, or there are more particular varietals, like Coffee Cake persimmons, which look exactly like those pictured above. At any rate, they need to soften. They go in pudding. I’ll give them a few days to get soft, then I’ll show ya’ll the glorious thing that is Persimmon Pudding.

I picked up a chicken, both to roast and make stock cause the freezer’s bare. I also got another piece of beef cause is it was still on sale. That’s an easy week’s eating. I have been having oatmeal with homemade apple sauce swirled in for breakfast, delicious.

I haven’t stopped thinking of Roy Andries de Groot. His book is still in my bag, I’m going to make his mushroom soup and spiced pot roast on Saturday. It’s a good time to be alive, which means it’s a good time to eat. Thanksgiving is not far away from a gourmet’s perspective. What will it be this year? Turkey, yes. But will it be a roulade of turkey breast? Will I get a whole and smaller bird? I don’t cook or serve enough sweet potatoes, so that’s definitely on the menu. I read somewhere recently that cranberry sauce is out, and jello molds are in. I’ve never made a jello thing, though both of my grandmothers made them for the holidays. My mom’s mom made a red one with strawberries and Cool-Whip on top. The tradition was that she forgot about it in the fridge till halfway through the meal. My dad’s mom made a green one that I never, ever put in my mouth. It had pimento stuffed olives in it! It was probably good, but I have never been a big fan of jello, especially as part of the main course of a meal.

I have finally learned to love pumpkin pie. When I was a kid, I didn’t like it or understand why such a colorful meal was concluded with a deep beige plop of sadness. Then, the pumpkin raisin tart appeared in Better Homes and Gardens magazine. My pumpkin pie life was changed forever. Tangy cream cheese with raisins, pumpkin pie filling on top, crushed walnuts on the bottom crust, I almost forgot. Now, this is a pie worth eating. I’ve made it most years since then, every once in a while I swap out with pumpkin cheesecake, or even a regular pumpkin pie which I now enjoy eating. I will make the tart this year.

Speaking of pumpkin, I am going to try something new this weekend. I am going to make pumpkin bread, slice it, let it dry out, and make chocolate chip pumpkin bread pudding with it. Another thing to which age has softened me-chocolate chips in bread pudding. Now, I am still a purist at heart, loving the traditional dried fruit laden custardy bread pudding well inebriated with whiskey butter. But there is a more wholesome, American seeming version with no booze or fruit and with chocolate chips added. A friend brought one over to my first apartment in San Francisco fifteen years ago, and I still remember it because I shared my skepticism then, and withdrew it after the first bite. Yes, of course, chocolate does improve most things.

Tonight’s dinner was a simple one- grilled cheese sandwich with a farmer’s market salad and fresh vinaigrette. There still is time to dream. There are dishes in the sink. Looking ahead, attending to now. Bringing the past to the present, that is what the season of remembrance, the season of the harvest is all about. Who would have guessed the little seeds we planted what seemed so long ago would come to such great bounty?

24 October Monday

You know how it begins. You see a dot of paper on the carpet, or a little tuft of hair and dust gathered in the corner. Seven hours later, you’ve moved all your furniture, cleaned behind around and before everything you own. Your day of cooking and being creative has been replaced by something probably as necessary if not as fun. The good news- the kitchen is spotless. The bad news-I haven’t eaten anything, I’m starving, and you know. This is where the taqueria across the street comes in real handy. Burrito weekends, that’s what they’re called. Too many other projects and diversions. And the horror movie channel. Great flicks like Black Christmas (1974) and Fury (1978). The former is the famous “call is coming from inside the house” movie. I enjoyed it because all the annoying characters were savagely murdered. I also realize that I love movies where people catch fire. It’s always great to see them flailing around screaming. I couldn’t stop watching Fury, what a good one, what an amazingly good bad movie. Fantastic. Great ending, but I’m not gonna spoil it! Great John Williams score, too. Anyway, back to food.

Wednesday will be market day for me. I’ll go to civic center and the market. Finishing off the very last of what was in the larder. I still have a crisp cucumber, a firm zucchini, and a couple onions. I did have several ancient apples that t were still firmish, but made a great apple sauce with sugar, cinnamon, and lime juice because I am out of lemons. That’s it for perishables in the house. Scrambled eggs and toast completed my dinner for one please, James.

I’m super jazzed for the next post. I’ve cleared space for autumn to come on in.

19 October Wednesday

OK, so day before yesterday I wrote a second post. I pre-dated it for yesterday, but then forgot to post it. So, I just posted it now, a day late, and guess what, you may just have to relax, put on a pot of tea, slip into your slippers, and read a second post.

The other day, the beef stew day, even before this posting debacle, I had Naan dough in the fridge, intended to serve. And I forgot all about it, to the consternation of my guests. We had the stew, it was yummy, ya da, ya da, you were there. So tonight, when I went to polish off the Indian curries, I discovered the plastic bag with three day old Naan dough in it. Now, the oven is pre-heating, and I am about to try out what smells like a beautiful sourdough Naan.

I ate it. I ate every morsel. I took the last golden brown bite of sweet, tangy Naan and dredged it through the spicy dal and rich Chicken curry. Is this, perhaps, what heaven tastes like? Beyond, beyond. I am bathed is sweat. I should have mentioned we are having a last little heat spell before winter, it was about 80F today, it’s about 67F now, but getting my little Magic Tandoori going to 500F well, that was somethin different.

Praise is owed to yet another master teacher and cookbook writer, Julie Sahni. Her book, Classic Indian Cooking, is a must read for anyone who cares about anything. How much one can learn from a cookbook besides cooking! The introduction itself is a master essay on having confidence, being comfortable in the kitchen, and trying something different. She claims that Indian cooking is the easiest international cuisine for the American home cook to master. Well, that’s easy for her to say. Yet, I have to agree. There is less reliance on technique and more on ingredients and their assimilation into a dish. For instance, I notice that Garam Masala is often added at the very end, after the cooking is done and before the finished dish rests, which is also a common feature of these recipes. Some spices are toasted in the pan that the rest of the stew cooks in, and some are cooked separately in ghee before being added mid-cook. You may need to remember the order, but there are no unusual techniques to doing this, you just add the ingredients when necessary.

Anyway, I bask in the afterglow of Indian spice. I’m contented, almost sated. And the fridge is mostly empty again. I want to encourage all of you to try cooking some different foods. Making Indian food at home is significantly better tasting than most of the restaurant equivalents, it is less expensive, you flex a creative muscle that sustains you biologically, and if you mind your ingredients and flex some actual muscle, you may feel your pants are a bit looser.

Goodnight. Let hope spring eternal.

18 October Tuesday

I am sitting here, again looking at Roy Andries de Groot’s Feasts for All Seasons, and I am ready to put it back on the shelf. Why do I shy away from this book every time I am determined to try it out? When I re-read the Pumpkin Soup recipe, I remembered the reason why. It was not Roy’s idea to serve the soup in the pumpkin, it was mine. Or rather, I recalled it from reading someone else’s recipe. And then I only had chicken stock so I used that instead of Boeuf Bouillon and Glace de Viande like those are even acceptable substitutions. Next thing ya know Roy vander groot is nowhere to be found. I just fudged the recipe last time, and I would fudge it again this time. Among my least favorite things in the kitchen: cutting corners and substitutions. Sometimes we can bend a little if there is a really nice biscuit dough for instance or whatever. Out and out substitutions should be stridently avoided. Yes, go to the store, get the cilantro, parsley is not the same. Majoram is not oregano. So, I scrapped the whole menu and am starting again.

Maybe at the end of the day, I sort of think that some of Roy’s way of cooking things is out of date and it just kinda doesn’t excite me. He comes from a bygone era when a man might have a pint of meat glaze in his fridge at all times of day and night. Wait a minute, Benji, isn’t this the whole point of cooking from these old cookbooks? That you expose yourself to ways of cooking and ingredients that nobody likes anymore and maybe will kill you? Shouldn’t dozens of baby farm animals die in your pursuit for an elevated level of human elegance and sophistication? Yes, and by golly, that’s what I’m gonna do. OK, Roy, it’s just you and me. You might reduce my broth, but you will never reduce my spirit.