To Thine Own Self, Be Food

I'm all over these days on this blog, yeah?  No real pattern or theme, other than "eclectic".  Or maybe "eccentric"?  I do what I feel doing, then I write about it.  You'll all let me know if it's not working for you, okay? This week, I feel like working with red meat.  And I feel like working with it in a sort of cobbled French style.  And it's fitting, because as of today's statistical reading, there are 11 French readers.  Or 11 French robots.  Or 11 French search engines.  Or 11 American spam sites posing as French readers.  But, let us remain un optimiste , eh? Today's practice was a Beef Bourguignon.  Or, Beef Burgundy.  This dish originated in the Burgundy region in France, and, way back in the day, was a dish prepared by peasants who couldn't always get the best, tenderest cuts of meat (the damned aristocracy...off with their heads!).  And those peasants knew then what we know now...lean and tough cuts of beef ...

We're going to keep this story short today. This is my latest purchase.  I've chronicled it all here: I've juiced.  I've blended.  I've smoothied.  Now, I want to extract.  I want the most out of my fruits, my greens, my extras...and this is just the appliance to do it. Okay.  Honestly.  I've been eyeballing one of these for some time now.  My mom and dad recently expressed desire in getting one for smoothie purposes...and well, today was the day. And really, it all began with the idea of creating good, healthy, nutritious drinks that would easily give us our helping of fruits and vegetables in one day.   As you see above, there's spinach in the bottom, tomatoes, pickles, celery, and cucumbers.  For this Nutribullet's maiden voyage, we were attempting a homemade V8 juice.   From there, things went downhill (well, not really).  Someone found this in her liquor cabinet...along with Worcestershire sauce, c...

Although it's a one-step-forward, two-steps-back process around these parts, Spring is nearly here. Thank the Maker.  Soon, the dead things on this Earth will be gone and replaced by beautiful, living things. And it is this profound thought that makes me think of my refrigerator. The latest round of Refrigerator Purge turned up an interesting little jar of Fig Spread.  The last man standing from the Christmas Food Basket gift from my parents.  The cheese, the meats, the spiced pecans...long since gone.  The Fig Jam was all that remained. Until today.  After consulting my Flavor Bible, I decided to do a Fig Jam and Manchego Grilled Cheese Sandwich. The starting line-up here is quite simple.  The long-neglected fig spread, cheese, bread, and butter. I happen to own one of those really crummy cheap-wire cheese slicer...so naturally, my Manchego was coming off in thin, uneven, janky little pieces...which actually turned out best for sandwich makin...

I'd really like to be able to post today about some amazing food thing I've done or learned recently. But alas, I won't be able to today. In typical vaudeville-esque fashion, I am trying to keep the spinning plates aloft in the air. Plate #1 - The Educational Plate: I finish the last of my two six-week classes TODAY.  I will be giving a presentation on the business I have developed.  This project has consumed quite a bit of time and energy, as the instructor wants specifics regarding what kind of equipment we need, food inventory, floor plan, employee job descriptions, and the like.  I also sat for a comprehensive Culinary Exam on Tuesday...which required a little studying and preparing for as well. Plate #1.a (or #2) - The Internship Plate: After today, Plate #1 will no longer be part of the act, but it will be replaced by #1.a or #2...Getting Ready for Internship.  I leave in less than a month for the shores of Lake Huron.  I will be gone for six month...

Most of the time, I'm all for enlarging vocabularies.  After teaching high school and college students, I'm usually for any kind of word enrichment that goes beyond "adorbs" and "totes magoats"...or, even worse, swear words. No, you have not wandered into the Pristine Language Plane of the Internet.  I admit, I drop the f-word just as unabashedly as the next person...but the way young people use the f-word these days?  Indiscriminately?  So much that it loses meaning? I really hate that. The f-word is becoming so common, and so without meaning. And especially when the English language has so many other suitable and eloquent replacements...it's just unforgivable.  It really is. But...there are always exceptions.  Sometimes a common cuss word is exactly what's needed to describe a particular situation or person. For example: fuckery, noun ; total nonsense, or a wrong or unfair action; Synonyms include: bulls#!t, a crock, a scam, etc. You...

You ever have one of those days where you feel golden?  Like, everything you did was pretty awesome and productive?  ( You know, the opposite of anything that happens in our nation's capital? ) That was yesterday for me.  The whole day just felt good , you know?  I mean, most days I have pockets of awesomeness, but they're not usually connected and consistent. First.  Bone-in chicken breasts on sale at the local Fareway.  For me, that means: practice chicken fabrication skills and make stock. Making my own stock is always one of the most satisfying tasks I am currently aware of.  After a day of simmering chicken carcass, mirepoix, and other sundry seasonings, I froze 18 cups worth of stock this morning.  That's four and a half of those boxes of Swanson's...at a fraction of the cost. The chicken breasts I fabricated went into a crockpot for yestereve's dinner, as I put my own spin on this chicken recipe (fresh mango, not dried, apple j...

I guess there's a phenomenon these days traveling the Internets referred to as "Throwback Thursday".  People post pictures of themselves or others from their younger years...and we're talking decades back...not those imbeciles who post a photo from, like, 2009. One of these days I'd like to participate in Throwback Thursday; mostly because there's this fabulous picture of my brother, looking like 'Adam' from "Eight is Enough", and he's filthy from head to foot, and I'mnotlying, he looks like some street urchin from Uganda or Yugoslavia and would make Sally Struthers bawl her eyes out. Someday, I'm gonna post that.  That'll show him.  Then, he'll wish he'd shared his Wendy's Frosties with me back in the day. But usually by the time I remember I need to go over to my parents' house and get that picture, scan it, and post it, it's already Friday.  Too late.  Maybe next week. Speaking of my parents, I...

I've been a fan of that quote for some time: Bloom Where You Are Planted. You know, make the most of where you are, be all you can be, etc., etc. But I'm at a real crossroads these days regarding this adage.  I'll be graduating soon with an Associate's in Culinary Arts.  If there's food in the place, that means I can work there. However, I can't really neglect my other experiences as well...high school and college teacher, writer...I mean, surely there's got to be some job out there that marries those things together, right? The closer and closer I get to leaving for my internship (little over a month to go), the more I think about what I'm going to do when I come back.  And, honestly, the answer is?  I don't really know. To illustrate the point, with my school and work schedules being fairly open right now, I contemplated going out for lunch today.  But...here were my options (in an Iowa town of 11,000 people): *Two Chinese buffet-type p...

Beef's best-kept secret: the best part of the cow is waaaay on the inside. Like, right here. These are beef marrow bones, procured at my local grocery store...also able to be found at your butcher, if you have one. And here's what you do:  Stand them upright, season them with a little salt and pepper, and then, roast them at 450 degrees for about 16-20 minutes.  While they're roasting away, toss together 1/2 cup chopped fresh parsley, one shallot, thinly sliced, a generous sprinkling of capers, some olive oil, some lemon juice, and salt and pepper. By that time, the bones will emerge from your oven looking like this: Yes, beef marrow is terribly oily and fatty...but it's monosaturated, which is the best kind for you.  Let's be honest, folks, fat is unavoidable, and is even a little bit desirable.  I'd rather choose a fat like this than a bottle of ranch dressing or something else equally heinous and fake. With a skinny spoon or butter knife, you ...

Good afternoon to the two readers in the United Kingdom and Ireland! Today, I will dovetail two of my favorite things: literacy and food.  Let's start simple...with that fondly remembered primary reading material of our youth: Dick and Jane.  Modified, of course, for the purposes here. This is Daikon.  S/he is a member of the Cabbage family, and is closely related to the radish.  S/he is pleased to meet you.  (Does Daikon have a gender?  I dunno...it seems like it should be a male for obvious reasons, but I don't want to stereotype, you know?) See Daikon, chopped and in a pot with onions and vegetable broth.  Daikon then simmers on the stove for about 20-25 minutes until quite soft. See Daikon take a swim in my blender.   And here is Daikon, after the vegetable puree was strained, cream was added and the entire thing was heated through. Daikon (or now, Cream of Daikon Soup) was a lovely, very pale shade of yellow....

This is the second installment of The Cream Soup Project.  Today's vegetable: Brussels Sprouts. For some reason that is most likely horrible and unjust, Brussels Sprouts has a very bad reputation for being disgusting and unattractive.  They endure hatred across all generational and racial gaps. I think this intense dislike stems back to poor preparation.  Somewhere, in someone's past, Brussels Sprouts were prepared improperly...resulting in a slimy, drab, chewy, rubbery, overcooked vegetable. There wasn't enough melted Velveeta cheese that could save it.  Understandable.  I'm the same way when it comes to liver.  I do not like it one jot...and I think it's because of how it was prepared when I was a child.  It's a difficult thing to let go of. So I can understand people's aversion to this particular cruciferous, cabbagey vegetable.  And that's why this week's experimentation is so important.  Ranking right up there with quantum physics ...

Because my life isn't exciting enough, what with leaving a job, starting a new job and internship here soon, and all the other life indiscriminata - I've decided to set a little challenge for myself this week. And it shall be called The Cream Soup Project. If I had to guess, I would reckon that most of us who grew up in the 70s and 80s remember vividly the ubiquitous red-and-white labels of Campbell's soups.  Personally, I recall seeing Chicken Noodle and Cream of Mushroom frequently...in the cupboards and in our casseroles.  Only years later did I see Cream of Celery, Cream of Chicken, and Cream of Potato (plus many more) on the shelves at the grocery store...and I wondered why I never saw these crazy flavors in my own home.  I guess they might have been too out there for my mom's standard green bean casserole. And years later, when I understood the English language much better, I wondered how exactly did Campbell's get cream out of a mushroom or a stalk of c...

You know me, readers.  You know I believe there's a bottle of wine for every occasion, every situation, every generation.  So, then, you're probably wondering (and rightfully so) why I've posted a picture of a bottle of beer here. This here is the last bottle of my husband's stash.  He won't mind. Because tonight, this particular libation seems to feel right.  I don't know, I just couldn't come up with a "time to say goodbye" kind of wine. Tonight was my last event at the Winery.  The Last Supper, if you will.  And for the record, I am a terrible goodbye-sayer.  My inclination is to act cavalier and all like, "oh, yeah, I'll see you around" when I know deep-down that I won't see that person ever again.  I probably act that way because I'm uncomfortable with the emotion associated with leaving. When I (or anyone, really) leave a place of work, there are those who don't care, those that feel obliged to care, and th...

Today's language lesson is brought to you by the Twelfth Night Cross-Dressing Company, who reminds us that if food be the music of love, play on! 1. bard, noun - a person who recites epic poetry, often while playing the lyre or harp (i.e. not me) 2. The Bard, noun - William Shakespeare 3. bard, noun - any various defensive pieces for a horse (usually used as barding ); also, bard, verb - to put bard on a horse And the definition that primarily concerns us today... 4. bard, noun - piece of bacon or other pork fat placed on lean game and/or poultry to prevent drying; also can be used as a verb, as in "I'd love to run away to Italy with you, Mr. Cumberbatch, but I simply must stay and finish the barding on this pheasant!" For our visual learners out there, it comes down to this: Will Shakespeare Glamour Shot courtesy of biography.com VERSUS Pheasant wrapped in bacon leg warmers photo courtesy of Yours Truly It's a tough call, I know. ...

I've got a lot of good blog ideas stewing...and I've even taken to writing them down in a journal so that I won't forget to discuss them. How so very proactive, I know. At some point in the near future, I plan on talking about such highbrow topics like: barding and roasting pheasants, why is the Albariño gone?, and a mediocre Coconut Curry Chili recipe. Today, though, one thing is on my mind, and *that* is what I'll delve into today. Raise your hand if you remember begging your parents to buy this cereal for you.  Keep your hand raised if they ended up buying this: Pic courtesy of the folks at Mental Floss Yeah.  My hand's up too.  Don't get me wrong, Michael Jordan is extremely cool and all, but he's no match for Alpha-Bits.  Or Count Chocula.  Or Fruity Pebbles.  Or Super Sugar Crisp.  Or any of those other sugar-stuffed cereals my parents would rarely buy. Our pantry was usually stocked with Wheaties, Raisin Bran, Cheerios, and Ri...