Why, hello again!

I've been so slack about posting on this blog! Not that anyone has been particularly complaining about it, but it pains me to see it languish, when I've had so much fun with it in the past.

So, I'm resolving to post more often! Today's post arises from a few inspirations:

• The realization that it's cooking healthy meals at home that has been instrumental in helping me shed nearly 50 pounds* since October 2011, and has helped my Beloved heal from his recent surgery and lose at least 15-20 pounds (so far) during his recovery;
• The knowledge that planning meals and doing the grocery shopping makes it easier to cook healthy meals at home;
• An interest in new recipes and new foods, and new ways to tempt both my own palate and my (very picky) husband's

That being the case, I thought I'd use this blog to plot not just my cooking adventures, but this little family's journey down the road to health and weight loss, the Paleo Way.

This week's plan for dinners!

Sunday: Steamed Brisket¹, green salad, homemade Szechwan green beans.
Monday: Leftover Chili², rice, green salad
Tuesday: Meatza, green salad
Wednesday: Roasted pork loin with herbes de Provence³, roasted root vegetables, salad⁴
Thursday: Leftovers
Friday and Saturday we normally go out for dinner, either on our own or with friends, so no need to plan for those!

Notes and observations about this plan:

1. Paleo eaters generally eschew processed food, including processed meat. My Beloved is fairly new to the paleo way, and is still finding his footing. As mistakes go, Dunn's Famous Brisket is probably not as bad as others he's made (and will undoubtedly make in the future) as he adapts to the new road. The brisket is high in sodium from the curing process, but as we are learning, salt is important for human health (too little can also be harmful!). And I'm pretty sure the two of us are not getting too much salt, because the other food in our house is generally fresh, raw, and unprocessed, and thus doesn't include sodium until we add it. 
2. Full disclosure: Monday's chili is, in fact, leftovers from a big pot o'chili I made last week. Mondays and Thursdays are the days I hit the gym after work, so leftovers are a big plus on such evenings.
3. Yes, I know it's June. But we live in Vancouver, BC, and summer has yet to settle in this year. This week's weather forecast is abysmal - wet, grey, and blah. So although doing a roast pork (tender)loin and root vegetables sounds like a rather autumnal or wintry kind of meal, it's not out of keeping with the environment. (If it were grillin' weather, I'd do it that way and think of a different vegetable accompaniment for it.)
4. We eat a lot of salad. I love salad, and eat it at every meal except breakfast, usually. My Beloved is less keen, but since I do most of the cooking, he takes what he's given, and as long as I don't put cucumber or avocado on his, he doesn't really complain.

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*there will be party here when I pass that milestone, believe me!

Been cooking up a storm, but...

Such an opportunity I've missed! I've been cooking virtually every meal my Beloved and I have eaten since March 30th, and not one have I documented here. Shame that. Perhaps I'll change that, now that I've got a bit more time to devote to this blog.

On March 29th, my Beloved tore his Achilles tendon off the bone. (The medical term for tearing the tendon off the bone is "avulsion", by the way.) He had surgery to repair it on March 30th. It's a same-day-discharge kind of surgery, so he came home that evening, and my stint as Chief Cook and Bottlewasher began in earnest the following day, as Beloved started six weeks of no weight-bearing on the operative leg.

For various reasons - healing, overall health, weight control, and because it's how I eat - my Beloved switched (or got switched) to the Paleo way of eating pretty much overnight. There was some bread in the bread bin, but once it was gone, it stayed gone. And he didn't even squawk about it, really; the reality check of having to haul his entire body weight around using primarily his upper body strength, and the spectre of the possibility of Type II diabetes were strong motivators, I guess.

It's been seven weeks now. He went from a plaster/fiberglass cast to a walking boot/air cast two weeks ago, and can do a lot more for himself now that he can put weight on the operative leg. He has lost weight. We don't know how much, because we haven't put him on the scale. But the fronts of his dressing gown overlap by at least six inches more than they did the first week post-op.

Quick Paleo Chili

So, I went Paleo about three months ago, and to my continued astonishment, I'm finding it really easy not to eat grains, or sugar. Industrial seed oils are harder to get away from, given how much we eat in restaurants, but I'm working on it.

My Beloved is not on board with the whole paleo thing, sadly; he's a grainivore to the core, and has not even entertained the idea of giving up bread, crackers, pizza crust, corn, etc., blah de blah. He is, however, content to modify what I cook to include some of his treasured grain. I make taco or fajita filling, and he has it with tortillas and I have it over salad.

On the weekend, I made Quick Paleo Chili, with a few modifications to suit what I had. And it was delicious and spicy, and Beloved hardly even commented on the lack of beans in it. Not more than once, anyway.

Mostly Paleo Chili

Ingredients:

1 lb grass-fed ground beef
3 links spicy Italian sausage, cut into bite size chunks
1 medium onion (chopped)
2 tbsp olive oil
4-5 cloves garlic (minced)
1 can diced tomatoes 14.5oz (mine weren't organic)
1 red bell pepper (chopped)
1 tin green chilies (again, not organic)
2-4 tbsp chili powder (depending on how you like the heat :)
2 tsp dry oregano
1-2 tsp ground cumin
salt and pepper
1-2 tbsp tomato paste

Directions:

Add olive oil to a pan on medium heat, brown ground beef and sausage with chopped onion and minced garlic. Then add tomatoes, bell pepper, chilies, chili powder, oregano, cumin, salt, and pepper. Then simmer the mixture for 20 mins or until the meat and green peppers are tender and the tomatoes cook into a sauce (I let it simmer for nearly two hours).

I served this up (for him) with a dollop of sour cream and a bit of cheese on top, and with a spoon for me. Deeelish!

Handbag Gravy

Yesterday was Canada Day. July First. Used to be called "Dominion Day" when I was a kid, but has been modernized to minimize the British Colony implications. (And to people in Quebec it's still secondary to St. Jean-Baptiste day, which comes later in the month. July 24th, I think.) A day of parades, Salmon Festivals (well, in my 'hood, anyway), face painting, underage public drinking (again, maybe that's just my 'hood), wearing red, wearing flags as capes. waving flags, and meeting the neighbours out in the sunshine.

And the weather was decent, which makes for a nice change this summer. And as we often do of a weekend, we got together with our friends Dana & Dave, to cook things and eat things. At their house this time, because half the city was already parked in our neighbourhood. Dave had bought a three-rib roast, and was going to do it on the barbecue. Dana expressed concern that there might not be enough dripping and pan juices to make gravy, so I assured her that my Beloved can whip up a gravy out of the most trifling of ingredients*, and I'd bring both him and his favourite magic gravy powder, Bisto.

So I fling the box of Bisto in one section of my purse and off we go, via the cold beer and wine store, and the grocery store, to pick up some essentials. And we get to D&D's and have a couple of drinks and try to keep Dave from opening up the barbecue too often, and things progress nicely. And then it comes time to make the gravy. I pull the box of Bisto out of my bag, and realize that the stupid thing is empty. The box top is open, and the bag inside is too, and there's the merest trace of powder at the bottom. Oh, for Pete's sake! Who puts an empty box back in the cupboard?

I say to my Beloved, who is the one who took the box out of the cupboard: "There's nothing in here; it's empty!" (This might have been said somewhat accusatorily. Maybe.)

He: Well, it wasn't empty when I took it out of the cupboard.

Me: Oh. Well, I hope it's not all over the bottom of my purse! [This might have been said with a tone that implied that such a state of affairs might be anyone's fault but my own.] *opens that section of the purse* Oh, God. It's all over the bottom of my purse.

He and Dana: *fall over laughing*

Fortunately, that purse has only just come back into the rotation, and was clean. You know, apart from the fine light-brown powder throughout the one section. So I took out the few items that were swimming around in the powder, got a big spoon, and transferred as much of the Bisto as I could from my bag to a bowl. And then, while my Beloved and my Bestie were wiping away their tears of mirth, I emptied everything out of my purse, wiped it down, and reassembled both my handbag and my dignity.

The dinner was delicious, and the gravy hardly tasted at all like the pennies we found in the powder in the bowl.

And we have an apocryphal cooking story to pull out on future occasions involving gravy. "Hey, Wendy, where's your purse? All we have to do it soak it in hot water for a delicious, beefy treat!"

I might be miffed if I wasn't laughing so hard.


*He really can. He's in charge of gravy, at our house. 

Capsicum Masala Rice!

Someone I work with brought this for lunch one day, and declared it her new favourite thing to eat, so I had to try it. The video is worth a watch, because the written instructions are full of hilariously unhelpful things like "fry further for another minute till the rawness disappears and the flavors come out", and if you can understand Chef Sanjay's accent, the visuals and spoken instructions will help clarify the confusing and contradictory bits in the written ones.

Capsicum is called "bell pepper" in Canada and America (and possibly other places, too); I never heard the word until I went to New Zealand, where I embarrassed myself by asking "what's capiscum?" at a pizza place, since every pizza featured it.

Capsicum Masala Rice

Step 1: Cook rice to make 3 cups of cooked rice.

Step 2: While that's cooking, make the masala

• 1 tsp black mustard seeds
• 1 tsp black gram daal (I couldn't find these, but the end result was fine anyway)
• 4-5 dried red chilies (to taste), or red chili flakes
• 1 tsp cumin seeds
• 1 tbsp coriander seeds
• 1 inch piece of cinnamon bark/stick
• 10-12 fresh curry leaves
• 3 tbsp roasted peanuts
• 1 tbsp freshly grated coconut (optional)

Heat a pan to medium and add mustard seeds, cumin seeds, coriander seeds, black daal, cinnamon stick, and dried chilies, and dry-roast for a few minutes. Add the peanuts and curry leaves and toast a few minutes more, taking care not to cook past 'aromatic' to burnt. The curry leaves will get crisp.

Remove from the heat and let cool.

Step 3: While that's cooling, cut up the bell peppers. The recipe says slice thinly, but I just diced them (as he does in the video) to be more fork-friendly with the rice, and I used a combination of colours, also as suggested in the video.

Step 4: In a food processor, grind the cooled masala to a coarse powder.

Step 5: Saute the peppers in a bit of ghee or butter, to tender-crisp. Add the masala and mix well.

Step 6: Mix with the rice, and serve. Delicious!

I mixed a little plain yogurt with a little garam masala to cool the heat a little bit (I have a sensitive mouth for 'hot'), and it did admirably. This is a delicious dish, even without the black gram daal (which I couldn't get except in catering-pack quantities) and the cinnamon bark (which I forgot to add).

Delish. Highly recommended. Might well go into our regular rotation when Indian food is on the menu.

Taking (or making) Stock

*blows dust off this blog*  (Hey, the tag line does say 'recidivist'.)

Oh, hi! It's been a while, hasn't it? This is only the third post this calendar year! Yes, well, obviously I haven't been doing much in the way of new and interesting cooking. Isn't it sad? I don't know why I lose my interest in cooking when the weather is cold and there's not as much fresh produce available... oh wait. Yes, I do know. It's because I'm better with summer produce than with winter. Also because my Beloved isn't much of an experimenter with That Which is Strange To Him (because by definition it must also be Highly Suspect), and with just the two of us here, it's easier to stick with what's known, no matter how boring it might be.

So anyway. I've been a member of Rouxbe Online Video Cooking School for almost a year, and I'm sorry to say that, after a period of deep entrenchment, I have kind of let things slide for a while. But I went back this week, because I've had a hankering to make some stock. And since I didn't really have any suitable bones, I went for vegetable stock.

I've never made stock before. Well, unless you count boiling the Thanksgiving turkey carcass and calling the resultant liquid stock. Which I used to, but now I know better. (For one thing, boiling = bad when making stock.)

So I used the Rouxbe recipe for vegetable stock as a guideline, and it's simmering on the stove as I speak. (Bloody thing hit a boil while I wasn't looking, but I think I caught it quickly.)

I peeled and chopped carrots, parsnips, onions, and a pretty sizeable kabocha squash. Their recipe calls for celery root and leeks, but my local supermarket didn't have either of those, so I used fresh celery instead, and shrugged about the leeks. (Note to self: next time you do this, go to the veggie market not the supermarket. PS: try to make that a habit anyway you lazy thing.)

Next, I roasted the vegetables. This is an optional step, but I figured, in for a penny, in for a pound, so I tossed it all in enough olive oil to coat but not drown, topped with a few heads of garlic sliced in half horizontally, and off it all went, in to a 400-degree (F) oven, for as long as that might take.

It didn't take long. The garlic was golden before anything else, so I plucked the heads out and chucked them in my stock pot, then stirred the rest of a bits to turn them, and put them back in the oven for a few minutes, before removing them, too, and plunking everything - now delightfully soft - into the stock pot.

I topped all of this with some roasted corn on the cob (cut into 1.5-inch slices) and roasted tomatoes (quartered and seeded), which I had to roast separately because my oven wasn't big enough for that many pans at once. Then added water to cover the veggies by about two inches. Then added a bouquet garni of fresh parsley, whole peppercorns, bay leaves, and a bit of dried thyme (because I didn't have, and couldn't find, fresh when I was out shopping yesterday).

I can't smell it from here, in the living room, but up close it's fantastically aromatic and I'm looking forward to using it in something. Goodness knows what, but I'll think of something. It's got about another 40 minutes to simmer, and then I'll remove the solids, strain, and cool before storing. And I'll have made my first proper stock!

Spinach? Ew! Right?

OK, let me start by saying that I don't have much spinach trauma in my life (well there was that horridly weird bacon-fat dressing on a spinach salad once, but that wasn't the spinach's fault), but we've mostly been nodding acquaintances. A salad here, some frozen chopped spinach used in a pasta dish there, that was about it. And in general I preferred spinach raw or - if cooked - unidentifiable among other ingredients. Because, you know... wilted leaves... are kind of 'ew'.

Until yesterday, that is. When I discovered a cooked spinach dish - in which the spinach is identifiable - that I love.

It's called Sautéed Arugula and Spinach with Paneer and Roasted Cashews, and it's from the Appetizers and Salads section of Vij's Elegant and Inspired Indian Cuisine, a cookbook that My Beloved and I bought (along with a masala dabba) after a particularly fine meal at Vij's restaurant. (Well, actually at Vij's Rangoli, next door, which was easier to get into, and which does the retail sales.) It was an excellent investment, as cookbooks go, and an excellent introduction not just to the ingredients in Indian cooking, but to the methods involved, and the importance of those methods (e.g., cooking the spices).

I was going to make this as part of an Indian feast we were planning, for a get-together with our friends Victoria and Mark, whom we hadn't seen in years, before the plans got changed and we ended up eating out rather than in. But I already had the spinach and arugula - and it kept really well, in an insulated grocery bag, outside in our cold store, for a week or more - so I thought I'd give it a whack anyway.

If you've ever done any Indian cooking, you'll know that it takes time. The prep, the mise en place, the grinding of spices, and so on, it can take ages to get a dish ready. But this one only took about an hour. Which is entirely reasonable for a weekday dinner. It would probably take me less time, next time, now that I know what I'm about. And I was cooking for one - My Beloved is in Puerto Rico, with work - so a meatless meal was allowed. :)  So without further ado:

Spicy Green Beans!

For a really long time - let's call it forty years, give or take - I didn't eat green beans. The green beans of my youth came from a can, were a drab olive colour, and had a thoroughly objectionable texture. I still recall the revulsion excited by the sensation of the outer layer of the bean sliding off the 'meat' of the bean as my tongue pushed it against my teeth. *shudder* Blagh! Ick. I remember at least two occasions on which I sat at the dinner table until bedtime, sobbing and struggling to swallow my beans. It was my experience with green beans that made me determined never to have that kind of food battle with my own children, should I have any. (And I don't, so that's a non-issue entirely.)

So. I didn't eat green beans for a long time. And then, about a year ago, I discovered the delicious delicious wonder that is Spicy Green Beans. Or Szechwan Green Beans. When they're on the menu in a restaurant - and you don't have to be in a Szechwan restaurant to get them, these days - I order them.

And tonight, I made them. For dinner. With chicken, for some protein. Google found me this recipe, which I will reprint here so you can read it and look at the lovely lovely photo and be jealous of my yummy dinner.

Szechuan Green Beans

These beans are "dry-fried," a Szechuan cooking technique that makes them extra tender. The recipe calls for Chinese longbeans, but you can use haricots verts, green beans or runner beans. The recipe normally calls for chili peppers, but I've used chili paste - feel free to substitute dried red chilis if desired. Serves 4.

Prep Time: 10 minutes, Cook Time: 10 minutes, Total Time: 20 minutes.

Ingredients:

• 1 pound Chinese longbeans (also called yardlong beans or just longbeans)
• 1 tablespoon garlic, chopped
• 1 tablespoon ginger, chopped
• 2 scallions (spring onions, green onions), white parts only
• 1/2 teaspoon chili paste
• 1 tablespoon dark soy sauce
• 1/2 teaspoon sugar
• 1/4 teaspoon salt, or to taste
• Pepper to taste, optional
• 2 tablespoons vegetable or peanut oil for stir-frying, or as needed

Preparation:

Wash the longbeans, drain thoroughly, and trim the tops and bottoms.
Cut the longbeans on the diagonal into slices approximately 2 inches long.
Chop the garlic, ginger and white part of the scallions.
Heat 1 tablespoon oil over medium heat. Add the longbeans and stir-fry until they start to shrivel or "pucker" and turn brown (5 - 7 minutes). Remove the long beans and drain in a colander or on paper towels.
Heat 1 tablespoon oil in the wok on high heat. Add the garlic, ginger and scallions. Stir-fry for a few seconds, then add the chili paste and stir-fry for a few more seconds until aromatic. Add the longbeans and the remaining ingredients. Mix together and serve.
Serving suggestion: Szechuan Green Beans would make an excellent side dish to accompany Mapo Tofu.

Gratin Potatoes

I was asked to bring scalloped potatoes to a group dinner on New Year's Eve. Well, I claimed that I knew how to make them (because, really, how hard can it be?), and didn't mention that I had hated scalloped potatoes (scalloped potatoes and ham, as my mother made them) growing up. Because I hated ham, growing up, too. But I like it now. So why not give scalloped potatoes a shot?

A search of "scalloped potatoes" on Rouxbe.com (I'm a registered student) came up with this recipe for "gratin potatoes". Gratin is French for "with cheese", as you may know, and "cheese" means "love".

Gratin Potatoes

• 4 medium-to-large potatoes
• 1 tablespoon softened butter
• 1 clove garlic, minced
• 2 cups whipping cream (can substitute heavy cream)
• 2/3 cup freshly grated powdered parmesan
• 1/2 tsp salt
• pepper to taste

1. Preheat the oven to 350ºF. 
2. To begin square off the bottom of each potato so that it sits firmly on the cutting board. Cut each potato into 1/4" slices, still keeping the potato together. Discard the end pieces.
3. Place the sliced potatoes into a square pan that has been smeared with butter and minced garlic. Then gently press on the potatoes until the potatoes are at a 45 degree angle. 
4. In a medium sized mixing bowl whisk the parmesan, salt and pepper into the cream. (You want it to be almost too salty, so taste the mixture. The potatoes will soak up most of the saltiness.) Then pour the cream mixture over the potatoes. They should be almost completely covered. 
5. Sprinkle the potatoes with a little more parmesan, cover with aluminium foil and bake for approximately 45 minutes to 1 hour, or until the potatoes are tender when poked with a knife.
6. To finish the potatoes remove the foil, turn the heat up to 375ºF and continue to bake for 10 to 15 minutes until the top is golden brown. 
7. Remove the potatoes from the oven and allow them to rest for 10 to 15 minutes before you serve them. This will give them time to thicken and soak up any extra cream.

Tips:

• Choose potatoes that are more or less the same size, so you don't have to peel and cut so many.
• Use fresh parmesan rather than the stuff that comes in a shaker can. Grate it first, then pulverize it in a food processor or grinder to get the proper texture and quantity.

I wish I'd take pictures, but I didn't have a camera with me at all on New Year's. Let's just say they turned out very well, and were a massive hit.

And I think I know why I hated my mom's scalloped potatoes. She always cut them super-thin, with the potato peeler. Which limits their ability to soak up liquid and get soft and potatoey. Scalloped potato slices need to have some substance to them, so they can absorb liquid and flavour. Yes.

Abra cadabra, hey pesto!

You know I made that rosemary pesto a while ago, yeah? It was good, but holy crap powerful.

Fortunately, my 2010 herb garden also features a couple of robustly healthy basil plants who have been enjoying our lovely hot dry July and August. And basil + pine nuts + parmesan cheese + garlic = pesto.

And Rouxbe has this rockin' recipe for pesto, and the video that goes with it (which I think you have to be a member to watch the whole thing) shows two ways of making it: by hand, and in a food processor.

I made it by hand, with my mezzaluna knife, to get the flavour layering promised in the video. And you know what? I got it. It tastes extraordinary.

I used two cloves of garlic, and asiago instead of pecorino and parmigiana-reggiano, because that's what I had on had. But otherwise I followed the recipe.

I may never buy commercially prepared pesto ever again. And I'm going to need lots more basil plants next summer. Lots more.

Gordon Ramsay

Not from my collection!

Since it seems I'm going to be subjected to yet another iteration of Gordon Ramsay bitching people out about food, I thought I'd put a few thoughts about him and his shows down on paper. Er... electrons.

My introduction to Chef Ramsay (whom I'm going to call Gordon, because it's my blog and I can) was on the UK version of Kitchen Nightmares. It was an interesting peek into the world of food-and-beverage, the simple and yet complex business of running a restaurant in the face of economic realities, food trends and fashion, and the changing face of the British dining-out culture. It was a reality check, and one that many of the restaurant owners desperately needed. It very ably illustrated some basic rules of restaurateuring: have a vision, and stick with it; keep up with trends and fashions, lest you stagnate; use the best, freshest ingredients, and forge relationships with the people who provide them. Know your own strengths and weaknesses, and surround yourself with people who can compensate for your lack of expertise; if you're a chef, do the cooking and let someone else manage front of house; if you're not a cook, stay out of the kitchen. Have a clear structure of command. Consider what message it sends to let the staff drink in the bar after their shift or on their days off.

So many lessons, for both the restaurateurs and the viewers. But what was really remarkable about that show was that it came across very clearly that Gordon cared about the restaurants he was trying to save, about their owners, about their staff. Having had one of his own restaurants fail, he was well able to spot where people were going wrong, and - more importantly - suggest simple, workable ways to turn those things around. Whittle the menu down to something manageable, get rid of the bought-in menu items, use cheaper ingredients to reduce food costs while still making them into something delicious and remarkable, fire the incompetent/indifferent/unskilled chef and hire a good one, train kitchen and/or front of house staff properly, get rid of the 1970's decor along with the 1970's menu items, find something you're good at and make that a feature. Many of the owners Gordon worked with were in debt up to their ears and facing bankruptcy if they couldn't figure a way to turn business around, and Gordon knew what that was like. So he cared. He wanted to help them get back on their feet, to make a go of a business they'd poured their heart and soul into, and he was prepared to do anything to make that happen, including making people angry and making them cry if that's what it took to make them see the light. He insulted their food, he criticised their business practices. He even swore sometimes.

But only sometimes. No, really. Only sometimes. And, memorably, when one of the lady owners objected ("there's no need for that sort of language, Gordon!"), he changed his tack.

And the show was such a success that what could be more natural but that he should do Kitchen Nightmares in the USA? And since it's America, and everyone knows Americans like their reality television confrontatational, loud, and belligerent, the participants, in addition to having failing restaurants, were also arrogant and argumentative, bellicose with Gordon, and generating a truly dysfunctional dynamic among the staff and - sometimes - the patrons. Thus, only the Sweary Gordon would do, because the only way to act and react to the participants was with colourful abuse. He may have singlehandedly popularized the word "wanker" in the USA (though I don't know that it's actually popular, but a heck of a lot more Americans know what it means, now).

And then, what to my horrified eyes should appear, but Hell's Kitchen, in which would-be-professional-chefs subject themselves to forced infighting and systematic and ritualistic humiliation, as a short-cut to an executive chef post at a Desirable Restaurant somewhere in the world. Sweary Gordon is in sweary evidence and swears like a cranky, gratuitously sweary thing. When a team wins a challenge, and the reward is spending a day hanging with Chef Ramsay, they invariably remark that they didn't realize he could be so much fun, so relaxed, so different, outside the kitchen. And I invariably roll my eyes and think "it's his television face, you idiots", because nobody in the world could be such a prick as the Sweary Gordon, all the time, and still be (a) married, (b) in business, or (c) alive, given how many people around him carry sharp pointy objects around as part of their work.

Personally, I don't much care for reality TV of the competitive variety; I don't care to watch people have hissy fits at each other, all in the name of winning lots of money or prestige. And thus, I don't much care for Hell's Kitchen. However, Gordon Ramsay is an ex-schoolmate of my Beloved's (they weren't close, and aren't in touch), and thus anything Gordon gets a chance in our house. (We don't have any of his kitchenware, though. And one look at his cookbook had me backing away: too complex, too pretentious, too reliant on obscure ingredients, to be really enjoyable for someone like me.)

And thus we come to MasterChef USA, in which passionate amateur chefs compete to be the first American Master Chef (a title whose significance, purpose, and cachet I am unclear on as yet). The first show aired on Tuesday, and we're still at the 'audition' stage, in which those who made it through the first round (video audition, presumably), show up and make their specialty dish for the panel of three judges, who taste and then either award them the symbolic apron - the cooking equivalent to Idol's ticket to Hollywood - or destroy both the dish and its cook's dreams with a few well-chosen words. ("I encourage you to continue to date chefs, because you're never going to be one" was among the most searing dismissals from this week, but I'm sure the guy who opened the show by making Beer Cheese soup was also shattered to hear Gordon say "that has to be the most disgusting soup I ever tasted in my life".)

So far my money is on the female physician whose inspiration and talisman is her mother's book of family recipes, and the young father who had to put his dreams of culinary school on hold in order to provide for his family. Oh, and the Korean guy who, according to Gordon, "moves like a chef, and cooks like one too". They are my front runners.

I hope they have Mentor Gordon on tap for this show. I don't think I can stand much more of Gratuitously Sweary Gordon.

Grass-fed beef

We ate the first of our organic, grass-fed beef tonight. T-bone steak. Grilled. With grilled asparagus. And salad.

Thawed the steaks in the refrigerator for a couple of days. Air-dried overnight. Seasoned with salt and pepper only. Grilled to rare, and served with aforementioned sides.

The beef was tender, juicy, and both more intensely and more delicately flavoured, if that makes sense. (The intensity might be because of the meat being on the bone; we usually eat boneless steaks, and it's been yonks since I ate a T-bone.) The sirloin side of the steak was delicious and tender and flavoursome and wonderful. And the tenderloin side was like a little slice of heaven.

Grass-fed beef. A bargain at $6 per pound, for the variety we got. And oh, so worth it.

Also, grilled asparagus? Best ever way to eat asparagus.

On a related note, but not to do with this evening's meal, grilled pineapple actually is a little slice of heaven. Cut the top and bottom off a whole fresh pineapple. Take the outer layer off so that there are no brown bits in the flesh. Slice into 1-inch thick slabs. Season with a little salt and pepper if desired (no, really). Grill until just juicy and tender. Let cool, and then cut into chunks, being sure to discard the hard core. While still warm, top with a bit of good quality vanilla ice cream (or similar), and enjoy.

The Joy of Herbs

I may have mentioned that I have a little bit of a herb garden on my deck. I've already made rosemary pesto from one of my pots, and we've have numerous salads from our tiny lettuce garden. Haven't come up with anything yet for the fresh oregano, but I'm sure I will. And it hasn't really produced much yet, either, so I'm content to wait until it does.

The basil plants have recovered from their neglected early days and are now robustly green and healthy, which is all the invitation I need, really. Had some bocconcini in the fridge, so got a few grape tomatoes to go with, chiffonaded some of my lovely basil leaves, drizzled olive oil and balsamic vinegar over top, and seasoned with the trusty ol' S&P. Voila, Caprese salad, after a fashion.

The most impressive plants at the moment, though, are the mint ones. I have one from last year and one from this year (because I forgot about the one from last year), and just in the last week or two the sun has finally come out, it's been hot and summery, and the mint has exploded in joyous celebration. And because they're spearmint, they're perfect for mojitos. So that's what we did tonight. Pitchers of mojitos. I won't post the recipe because the one I followed was for drinks by the glass, so we faked it, and also the internets are groaning under the weight of all the different mojito recipes out there.

They do all have the same basics, though: rum (golden or white), fresh lime juice, sugar syrup, mint, muddled in a glass, topped up with ice and then club soda, and a straw if you're the kind of person who has straws at home.

Yes, you can buy basil and mint - and everything else - at the store, but it's sure nice not to have to.

Success: Creole Potato Salad

This potato salad involved a lot of chopping, and thus gives a novice chef plenty of opportunity to practice her knife skills on potatoes, onions, celery, peppers and eggs. One of the earliest lessons at Rouxbe Online Video Cooking School is on knife skills, and the words that stuck with me from that one are to the effect that, when your knife is in motion, you need to keep your eyes on the area between your knuckles (never fingertips) and the blade of your knife. And indeed, you look away at your peril, as I reminded myself today.  Ow ow ow friggin' ow.

'Nuff said. On to the recipe. I had new potatoes hanging about, so decided to make a potato salad because I haven't made one in forever. And I don't think I've ever made one with new potatoes. New red potatoes, no less, because red potatoes are my favourite. The picture? Oh, the picture is of IKEA's Charm egg slicer, which enabled me to chop the egg for my salad, without actually needing a knife. Charm, indeed. I'm very glad I spent that $1.99.

Creole Potato Salad

This is a great make-ahead salad, as extra time chilling in the refrigerator helps the flavors sink into the potatoes. (From Simply Recipes)

Ingredients

• 2 pounds Yukon gold or new potatoes, scrubbed clean (peel on or off, your choice), cut in 1 to 2-inch chunks
• 6 hard-boiled eggs, coarsely chopped
• 1 small onion, chopped
• 2 stalks celery, diced
• 1 green pepper, diced
• 2 tablespoons cider vinegar
• 1 teaspoon sugar
• 1/2 cup Creole mustard
• 3/4 cup mayonnaise (less or more to taste)
• Salt
• Cajun seasoning, for garnish

Method

1. Place potatoes in a large pot, cover with cold water by an inch. (If you haven't already hard boiled the eggs, you can boil the eggs with the potatoes.) Bring to a boil and add about a teaspoon of salt. Lower the heat to a simmer and cover. Cook until the potatoes are fork tender, about 10 minutes. Drain in a colander.
2. While you are boiling the potatoes, mix the sugar, vinegar, mayonnaise and mustard in with the celery, peppers and onion in a large bowl.
3. While the potatoes are still warm, gently mix them in with the dressing. Stirring them in while warm will allow the potatoes to soak in the seasonings better.
4. Gently fold the chopped hard boiled eggs into the potato mixture until well combined. Taste the potato salad and add salt to taste. Put the salad in the fridge for at least an hour before serving.

Serve chilled, garnished with paprika or Cajun seasoning.

Serves 6-8.

If you don't have creole mustard (as I didn't), you can make your own. The internets have several recipes for this. I chose this one for its brevity. Link

Creole Mustard

6 tablespoons Dijon mustard
1/2 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce
Tabasco sauce or hot sauce

Mix all together.  Yields 1/4 cup.

(Though come to think of it, I used regular yellow mustard, not Dijon. Must change that for next time.) This makes a boatload of dressing, let me say, and I worried that it would be too much. And it might have been, but then again, I had slightly less than two full pounds of spuds by the time I'd washed and trimmed 'em, so maybe that made a difference. However, the hot potatoes do in fact absorb the dressing, and it was a heck of a lot less gloopy after an hour or two in the fridge than it was when it went in.  And I didn't have any Cajun seasoning, so had to settle for Tex-Mex, but I'm not sure it makes any difference; you don't use that much of it.

I call this one a success because S liked it. And so did I. Also, it makes a LOT if there's just two of you, so I've got a lot of leftovers. Think I'll take them to work, to share, because much as I like it, I'll weary of it before I can finish all that.

I'm a Culinary Student now!

I did it. I enrolled in culinary school. Quit my job, reconciled my husband to the temporary loss of income, and committed the next two years of my life to becoming a professional chef.

Okay, not really. But I did buy a year's membership to the Rouxbe Online Video Cooking School. My 14-day free trial ended today, and in the last two weeks, I have viewed 67% of the online video cooking lessons, achieved an average 95% on the related quizzes, and learned absolutely heaps, starting with how to test a pan for appropriate heat before adding either oil or food, to how to choose and hone knives, to how to use those knives to cut absolutely anything, safely. Food safety, how to cook eggs, steaks, poultry, vegetables. How to steam, how to pan-fry, how to braise, how to roast. How to make stock and broth, and what is the difference between the two, anyway (stock is made from bones; broth is made from meat on the bone).

It's fascinating. And really inspiring. I have hardly had any occasion to use any of the stuff I've learned, yet (except for last weekend's direct application of the technique on "How to Segment Citrus Fruit"), but I have learned heaps, and I'm quite excited to start trying some stuff. My Beloved is going to some NHRA event in Seattle on Sunday, so I'm hoping to be trying my hand at some bread, if it's not too hot out to have the oven on. 

Experimenting: It's what's for dinner!

There are a few recipes the Beloved and I have been antsy to try, and this weekend - well, today - was our chance! Our football team was playing an away game today, so we had our football friends D&D over for a barbecue. And, like my mother always does, I pulled out the "try ASAP" file and plucked out a few recipes. (What? Doesn't everyone experiment on company? Why else have anyone over?)

Full story and a couple of pictures after the jump.

Cooking is Fun-damental

Yon Saucy Wench's comment to my last post, to the effect that "what's key with cooking... is to play around, have fun, and figure out what works for you" flicked on a light bulb for me. It made me realize that, though I have had enjoyable cooking experiences, the words 'cooking' and 'fun' aren't an immediate association in my brain. I know plenty of people who love to cook, but I've never been one of them. The world - heck, the television - is full of people who are passionate about food, about cooking, but I've never been one of them, either.

And yet I love to eat, and I love good food. So why should I be less than enthusiastic about cooking? Where did that come from? Full navel-gazing after the jump. :)

Culinary School - Your Way

This newfound interest of mine, in food and cooking, has brought me up short on a couple of occasions. The more I learn, it seems, the more I realize I have to learn. I thought I'd learned most of the basics from my mom, my friends, and in school, but with the preponderance of cooking shows and websites, I realize that, although I know a good deal more than some people, I know a good deal less than I'd like to.

This video, for instance - Gordon Ramsay making perfect scrambled eggs - was an absolute revelation.



I've made those scrambled eggs on several occasions now, for different people, and they get rave reviews every time. Who knew it could be so easy? I'd been doing pretty much everything wrong up to that point: blending the eggs, adding milk and salt and pepper and cheese and goodness knows what else before cooking, using too-high heat, cooking the eggs too fast... you name it, I did it wrong. And I was never happy with my scrammelacks, as my dad calls them.

I have good quality knives, cutting boards, appliances, and cookware, but without the knowledge and skills to back it up, it all feels like so much window dressing, akin to having good quality skis and poles and boots and a matching ski suit, before you've even taken a lesson: unnecessary and possibly a bit pretentious. I don't want to be a professional chef, but I sure would like to know what they know, cook like they cook, with confidence and creativity. I don't have the time, the money, the passion, to go to culinary school, so some other strategy is clearly required.

Reading cooking and foodie blogs has taught me a bit. (Serious Eats has a series of how-to's and knife skills that have helped.) Cooking shows help, too, though some of them are more focused on what not to do than what to do. The How to Cook Everything app for iPhone is also wicked cool.

But the most helpful thing I've found thus far? Rouxbe.com Online Video Cooking School. I found a link and a video on one of the blogs I read included a reference and a link to Rouxbe.com's lesson on how to heat a stainless steel pan properly to ensure the food doesn't stick, and a commenter mentioned that the whole (subscription only) site is amazing useful and worth the subscription fee, so I had a look. And then I signed up for the 14-day free trial. And I've been absorbing the lessons - on eggs, on bread, on equipment - all weekend. The bread one was so inspiring I actually bought yeast and bread flour today, with the intention of trying my hand at baguettes. There are more than 60 lessons, plus practice recipes and video recipes. The videos are compatible with iPad and iPhone, which is nice for those of us who commute from time to time.

I'm quite impressed, and considering buying a subscription when my free trial expires in 12 more days.

It's here! And it fits. Phew.

Here's how my freezer looked last night, after I did a hasty review and rearrangement of the contents ("Coffee? What's this doing in here? Rossana would be horrified! Oh, man, did you know we had all these burgers? Good thing we have all these burger buns, too! And wow, we need to eat this shrimp at some point..."). This was necessary because I got an email advising that my Freezer Pack was available for pickup. I confess to being concerned about the amount of available space, because that there doesn't look like much, and the door was already pretty full. Still, deep breath.

So today after work, I went to pick it up. And it's a doddle! The farmer asked me if I needed any help getting this to my car, but heck, I swing heavier weights than this around at the gym. (Well, OK, I don't swing the 40 lb kettlebell. But I do lift it!) And looking at this, I was pretty sure it would fit in the available freezer space.

Got it home, and broke into the package, and here's what I got:

• 2 x Top Round Roast
• 1 x Bottom Round Roast
• 1 x Chuck Steak Roast
• 1 x Sirloin Tip Steak Roast
• 2 x T-bone Steaks
• 2 x Rib Steaks
• 1 x Sirloin Steak
• 2 x Stewing Beef (approx 1 lb)
• 9 x Ground Beef (approx 1 lb)

I weighed it all and wrote the weights on, because that's the only thing the butcher didn't think to do (and wrote it in both pounds and kilos, because I'm Canadian and that's how we roll), and took photos, and then stuffed it all into the freezer. And it all fit, as you see.

Yay! We have a fair amount of beef (and other things) that needs to be eaten before we get into these butcher-paper packages. I'm told - by someone whose brother used to raise beef cows - that organic beef has a stronger taste than commercially-produced beef. I'll be sure to let you know.

Where's the Beef?

My beef is ready. The 30 pounds of roasts, steaks, cubed, and minced beef I ordered in April is now ready for pickup. I have to pick it up today, after work.

I let my beloved talk me out of buying a chest freezer to accommodate this purchase. I hope I don't live to regret that. We haven't eaten nearly as much of our fridge contents as we intended, over the last couple of months. The weather has been crappy, so grillin' hasn't been on the agenda pretty much at all, which hasn't helped. There is space in the freezer, yes there is. I'm just not sure there's 30 lbs of space.

Time to start planning some more meals. Must call the beloved, tell him to defrost some chicken for tonight. Tandoori chicken on the grill. Yummeroo.