21 June Friday

Come on now kids, up at at ’em, a brand new summer just begun, just for you and me. Feeling relaxed, feeling renewed, feeling inspired, dreams are pursued. Let me take a little time and tell you a few things I’ve either learned or re-learned in the last two weeks kitchen-wise speaking, just in time for summer:

1. Chop your onions, chop your herbs.

Clean them well and chop with care. The shape, the size and the moisture of the herbs can change a dish, and ultimately, your life. It says a lot about one, really. Don’t use herb processing as an expression for your dormant rage, wildly hacking them to a pulp. Herbs lose their flavor this way and taste like grass clippings. Save your rage for mowing the lawn. Rinse and dry your parsley and cilantro thoroughly, and again, as soon as you get them safely home. Rinse, and I like to take them outside and shake vigorously and let em sit out for a bit. This time of year, everything is parsley and basil, tarragon and savory. How much spring onion is too much spring onion scattered on a dish? Has anyone ever discovered the answer to this question? This is the best time of year for fresh garlic too.

2. Little tomatoes are here.

Find a new way to dress them. Getting a salad dressing right really makes me feel like a man in a way few other things do, and my new favorite right is Miso dressing. Mirin, neutral oil, miso paste, sesame oil, soy sauce, sesame seeds, white pepper. Oh and yes, a little pinch of sugar. I was recently complimented on my salad dressings, and I was surprised how deeply I was moved by the words. I spent several minutes in silence.

3. Straighten up and fry right.

It’s the details in our work that can make a huge difference. This is my new thinking about deep frying. For thousands of years and across many different cultures and for many different reasons, grandmothers have been feeding their loved ones fried foods, like the salt and pepper chicken wings pictured above.

It is widely known now that deep frying is a unhealthy way of eating., which doesn’t sit well in the stomach with the notion that grandma’s cooking ways were best. Why did grandma do this? She hate us? Did she have a choice? Was there a way of frying that minimized the health downsides? Do yummy things just kill us quicker and that’s all there is to it? And what isn’t killing us, ultimately? Is it twisted logic to remind that more people have been killed across time from drinking water than from Nana’s Fritto Misto?

As far as I can tell, and this is not an academic paper, the fear of deep-fried foods corresponds with their presence in our every day lives vis-a-vis fast food and its numerous kissing cousins. Cheaper oils cooked at lower temps tossed in salt but never dried and tightened up caused many to lose their daddies earlier to early morning driveway heart attacks. So, naturally, bad. Cooking the materials at a higher temperature keeps the food from absorbing the oil, and drying on paper towels or some such thing after words removes any oil from the surface.

I toasted my spice mix, which is a personal variation of Kenji Lopez-Alt’s from The Wok cookbook. You can look that up yourself, but I’ll tell you I increase the amount of Sichuan pepper and cloves, and that’s basically my variation. I toasted them with the other ingredients (look it up) in a dry wok and carefully, so no one went running into the streets with burning eyes, you had to be there. Good times!

The temperature of the oil is paramount, and keeping the oil at the ideal temp is not something you can’t pay attention to. You can, you must. Don’t crowd the pan, cook a minute or two longer than you think you should. The food should be a dark golden brown. Then, dry it off with paper towels completely thoroughly. It tastes so good and has no grease on the outside, it’s dry and light crisp and salty spicy.

Take these broken wings and learn to fly.

4. Make the most of everything while we may.

I’d cooked a chicken and saved the carcass. I wrapped it in plastic, popped it in the fridge, and promptly forgot about it. When I noticed it was there too many days later, it was horribly useless, like an ancient rotting barn of dry grey planks you see from the highway. There’s no saving you baby!

So when I made my weekly chicken several days ago, I didn’t wait. I put it in the stock pot while my guests were still here! Next, I came into a glut of fresh summer basil that was clearly not going to survive the night. So, I made several jars of fresh pesto. Last night, dinnertime arrives, the wolves are gathering in the tummy. I heat some of the stock and I swirl in several tablespoons of pesto. This dish is profoundly delicious, maybe one of the most wonderful things I ever tasted.

It was the summer solstice. Windy cold grey in the outside. I took a warm bath, drank a large bowl of this deeply satisfying soup, and decided to pop on a movie. My app recommended in its featured classics, Don’t Look Now, starring Julie Christie and Donald Sutherland, who died yesterday. It is one of the most creepy strange movies I’ve ever seen, and I think for the time being at least, I won’t be able to eat pesto without thinking about this film. Most of the film takes place in Venice, so it was fitting that I had something Italianate on the tongue.

A really nifty cake from a really nifty gal called Grandma Rose, who had a cafe in Portland Oregon in the 60s-80s I guess, and she put out a couple of cookbooks that are real dandies. I made the Fresh Plum Sour Cream Cake with Streusel topping, which was more desserty than breakfasty type-a coffee cakey type-a thingy. It was served with a thick whip of creme fraiche. The only word that I could describe that wonderful consistency of creme fraiche is clabber. Clabber clabber clabber it’s the sound of the cream and sour cream slippity slopping around the bowl until it comes together in a noble emulsion of strength, gentility, extravagance, and humility all at once. This lightly tart cream on top of the sturdy cake, tart fruit, and toasted cinnamon caramel streusel made for real good eating. OK kids, stay cool out there, and remember, if you get hungry, eat something.

9 May Thursday

fresh baby spinach, toasted pecans, blue cheese, purple onion, roasted strawberries, vinaigrette.

Penne pasta, canned tuna, capers, garlic, butter, parsley

Romaine lettuce, cucumbers (mostly peeled, though not entirely), cherry tomatoes, feta, oil and lemon juice.

Fried egg on a toasted Banh Mi with pickled Jalapenos, hash browns, jack cheese, arugula, a little hot sauce.

Yesterday, I bought a bag of fresh cherries, the first of the year. Ruby red and tasty tangy sweet.

Sometimes, it happens. You or I, let’s say we, catch a tiny little glimpse of an adventure happening. It may have been happening for some time, or maybe it just sparked off, but you catch it, and only for a second before it disappears, but you it’s enough to know that it is happening. And be satisfied with that. Or joyful even.

What is this adventure of which I speak? The adventure of leaning into our life, the thrill of trusting ourselves. It’s a slow and emerging adventure, so I can’t say specifically what the outcome will be. If I did, it would hardly be an adventure. Music where there was silence, food where there is hunger, you get the picture. Creation, it is called. Going out, enjoying, smiling, and being free. Turning on that grill, chopping fresh vegetables, popping trays of things into the oven. The best adventures happen slowly.

This adventure began with a few simple decisions. First, I would set my phone to notify me of everything I need to do to attend to physical needs including bed times, wake times, meal times, exercise times, and media use times. At first I was frustrated that I was not “obeying” the calendar and either sleeping in, staying up too late, not eating, eating too late, etc. etc. Lately, I’ve noticed that my schedule is starting to align with this calendar with surprising effect. A personal routine is an amazing thing, having a relationship with yourself.

Next, I decided to simply omit certain items from my diet: Instant Ramen, Taqueria burritos, and frozen pizzas. Why? They are cheap, easy, and assuage hunger instantly, if only for an instant. They also take away the need for me to mindful of my meals. There is something calming and liberating about meal planning and eating at designated times.

A wall of Thunbergia black-eyed Susan. Not recommended for eating in fresh salads.

In addition to the dishes described above, I have a couple of other meals in mind:

Tofu pudding with scrambled egg mixed in, baked, sprinkled with soy sauce and sesame oil, served with steamed rice and kimchi.

Yakitori- Japanese chicken kebabs marinated in Mirin, ginger, garlic, soy sauce, and orange zest, skewered and grilled with bell pepper, spring onion, and mushrooms. Chicken livers sometimes, but optional. (I think I should go with the livers!)

Spoleto kebab- pork loin, lamb chop, chicken breast, cut into cubes, olive oil, rosemary, juniper berries, sage, and bacon. A very special celebration this will be.

27 April Saturday

Lots of new and exciting things, people. I was gifted a smokeless grill several months ago, and it took pride of place on the top of a difficult to reach shelf where it was almost guaranteed to age, rust, gather dust, and fall apart without ever getting used for its intended purpose. Almost, but not quite. I confidently pulled it from the shelf, unwrapped it, washed it, put it together, plugged it in, and grill my kebabs on it. I absolutely love it.

What moves in the mind of a man while he sleeps? I woke with a shudder at 5:17 AM. I had but one objective, one reason for being: to cut the leg of lamb into manageable cubes and marinate it. Yes, I had a full day of actual, out in the world, making the Benjamins, work ahead of me, and if I’m gonna throw down some kebabs for suppa, my guests deserve well-marinated ones. As I explained in the last cliff-hanger, Ms. Duckitt transcribed the recipe for this dish, and the marinade, a South African creation, is key to its success. Tamarind paste is wonderful, subtly sour and fruity, plus curry powder. I used a Japanese curry powder that balanced in sweetness the sour of the tamarind. Lemon zest, salt, onion, and milk. Yes, milk. Lactic acid helps tenderize the meat. Buttermilk fried-chicken is familiar, no?

Thar she blows, kids. I let them sit in the fridge all day long while I worked. I came home to a very satisfying activity- skewering meat. That feeling of piercing flesh with a sharp stick is very stress relieving. I was surprised, delighted, and impressed with how my kebabs looked exactly like what I imagined, and how it felt to set the skewers on the grill.

There they are, a’grillin on the grill. It is a different type of cooking. When something is in the oven, it’s like patiently waiting for someone to give birth. It takes its time, it happens in secret, and when it is ready, forth it comes. Grilling happens right in front of you, and like cavepersons of old, I intently watched the meat get its char, on all sides. It’s more celebratory, immediate, the scent of the marinade grilling was seductive.

There was only one little issue I encountered. Maybe a friend can help me out. When I went to flip the skewers over to grill another side, the skewer would flip but the meat would not. Perhaps that’s what happens when you get the cheapest metal skewers money can buy. The bamboo sticks are a real pain in the patootie cause they frequently snap under the weight of the meat, and even if they’ve been soaked thoroughly, they still dry out and burn before the meat is all cooked. I’ll do a little investigating and see how I can fix this.

Oh gosh golly, I just did and you know what? I figured out how to fix the problem-double skewer the meat. Now these are flat skewers but thin, so put one through one way with the ring on the left and the other with the ring on the right, and flip both skewers at the same to to fliperoo the meatarino. Problemo solved.

Wait a minute, wait a minute here. I am reading this post-in-progress, and a friend has indeed come through. Miraculous! The meat needs to be grilled for a few seconds and flipped, then flipped and flipped at regular but increasingly longer intervals so the meat doesn’t get heavy on one side, gravity pulling that side to the earth instead of flipping with the skewer! Thank you muchly!

There it is, the full meal, human hand for scale. From the top, cucumber salad, purple onion, salt, mint, yogurt, vinegar. Clockwise looking, the deskewered meat chunks, juicy tender, cooked medium. Bottom center, Khichri, red lentils, basmati rice, fresh from a friend’s garden fava beans, tamarind paste, and a heaping helping of crazy and diverse spices. TEEERIFIC! Finally, the Naan. The dough could have used a little bit more kneading, and the first batch I overcooked making it more like a crisp thin pizza crust. The subsequent batches were good, though they were a little thick, I could have stretched them out a bit more. Someone suggested a touch more salt. These imperfections aside, the bread was tasty and everything. Nothing was left for today.

Well, except for one thing. Unbelievable. I forgot to serve dessert. I realized I didn’t quite have time to make the Junket, and the primitive recipe with lots of guessing made me anxious, so as the ole saying goes “go with what you know”. By the way I should tell I’m thinking of going Cormac McCarthy on you all and stopping using quotation marks. Back to the subject- a Junket was no longer in the cards. But I wanted something spiritually related, a light, cool, pudding with something bright and a funny sounding British name. I swapped cinnamon for Meyer lemon and milk and rennet for cream and sugar and made a Posset. They look so clean and creamy and beautiful in their little ceramic custard cups gently wobbling when commanded. That’s where they are sitting right now. I forgot to serve them, I haven’t been serving dessert at regular meals all the time, so it’s natural that no one would ask about it.

Here, then is a solution. This same friend arrived a grand box of tomatoes, tight fresh green bell peppers, and other sundry goodies. There is some leftover Khichri in the fridge, tomorrow night we’ll have vegetarian stuffed bell peppers and the lemon posset.

In the meantime, I really like this grill, and I’m very happy that it is here in time for summer. I want to grill lots of things. More and more to come.