To Thine Own Self, Be Food

Remember a few days ago when I confessed that I'd eaten a whole sleeve of whole-wheat Ritz crackers?  Not my finest fifteen minutes (yeah, that quick ).  I realize now that it was induced by hormones.  That monthly inundation of hormones.  You know. I feel as if I've redeemed myself, though, today.  Two days ago, this Tupperware relish tray thingy was full of cucumbers, carrots, cherry tomatoes, and green bell peppers.  This morning, the carrots, tomatoes, and bell peppers were the only things left. And as of three minutes ago, there is nothing left.  Except a smudge and swipe of dip there at the bottom of the container. I feel much much better after this chowfest. Hummus is one of my favorite things (cue Julie Andrews music).  It's hard for me to remember that hummus was not as ubiquitous as it is now.  I'd never heard of it until I was probably in my 20s or even 30s...or at least, it wasn't mainstream around here where I live. And now, my kids have g

Way back around the first of April, I informed you that I was reviving my reading and writing habits.  Writing, yes, I have been doing more of that.  Reading, though, has been a little more slow-going. Last night, I finally finished this book.  That I started over two months ago. Here were my thoughts a few pages in... The book is written by Luke Barr, M.F.K. Fisher's great-nephew.  So, through his narrative, his notes, his interviews (maybe?), and his memories, he is charged with the description and discussion of a pivotal year in a pivotal place...in which "American Taste is Reinvented".  Okay. While I'm excited about the topic of this book, I'm less excited about the narrative voice...and I hope it doesn't spoil the book.  But... The Prologue is 20 pages.  It begins with "On a cool August morning in 2009, I drove up a sloping, narrow driveway in Glen Ellen, California, on my way to visit the past."  And it ends with "As I

Pulled pork. Sloppy Joes. Leftover brisket. Cold fried chicken. Fried eggs. Refried beans. Sausages. Seeing a trend here?  PROTEIN. Goes well with...? Cabbage. Cabbage, I think, is one of the most underestimated vegetables on Planet Earth.  I know I certainly forget about it a lot of the time.  Cabbage is most often the underdog...in fact, Bette Midler's "Wind Beneath My Wings" could have really been about cabbage, and not Barbara Hershey.  Cabbage is relegated to supporting roles in coleslaw and sauerkraut and huge pots of weight-loss soup. And that's too bad, because the potential for Broadway star is there. Whenever I come into possession of a nice head of cabbage, I think, Ooh! I'm going to do cabbage rolls! And then when the time comes to do said cabbage rolls, I've lost the ambition.  Or, I've lost the cabbage.  Anyway. Recently, we happened to have some leftover sloppy joe and bean mix in our house.  I was not that excited about

In reality, I am pretty fussy when it comes to my salads, not just chicken salad.  I've also got a tendency to go on and on.  But, today, I've got to stay short and focused. So, in culinary school, I learned that there are categories of salads. Who knew? I sure didn't. There are: 1. Tossed: You know, where everything's just chucked together, dropped onto a plate or into a bowl right before service.  Sometimes the dressing is on the side, sometimes it's been tossed with the salad components.  This is probably the easiest salad to do and the one we see the most at potlucks and restaurants...because, yeah. 2. Composed: Components of the salad are arranged on a plate in a certain way.  Examples include the Cobb or a Nicoise.  These take more time to prepare, obviously, and aren't optimal for large-group gatherings. 3. Bound: Components (usually non-leafy ones) are tossed together before being mixed with some kind of binding mixture.  Usually this binder is

Zero: A pretty leisurely Tuesday morning.  A little of this, a little of that.  A moment where I actually can lounge on my couch and read. 20: A friend of mine and my daughter drive about four hours to Kansas City to see Florence + The Machine in concert.  Amazing performer, amazing time. 40: Drive home early the next day so that Kirby can get to drivers' ed and I can get WanderLunch ready for a catering event. 50: Complete the catering event (despite electrical snafu) and rise early the next day (today) to get WanderLunch ready for another big day: a new, more centralized location that's more accessible to our town's professionals. 60: Rock out a Thursday-record-breaking 78 sandwiches despite another electrical issue and you know, running out of things called Food. I feel freaking good right now, readers.  I have no real tangible way to explain it...just that it feels like that grimy kind of visceral satisfaction that comes with working your ass off . Wanna s

I have been out of education for nearly five years now...but I still get that anticipatory tingle of excitement when school lets out for the summer.  Probably because I still have kiddos in the system, and probably because I feel like FINALLY the craziness of spring will abate somewhat... But, deep down, I think it's because summer represents endless possibilities.  With a bit of blue sky and sunshine...anything is possible.  EVERYTHING is possible.  I felt that way when I was a kid...and I still feel that way now.  I hope I feel that way in thirty years. We're still dealing with spring activities here, and so two kids will still attend soccer practices.  The golf season is over, so now Child #1 can help shuttle sister and brother around.  But, ultimately, there will be more Five-Face time around the dinner table.  Menu-wise?  Still sorting that out.  Definitely more grill action and lighter fare.  More vegetables and fruits.  More board games. More walks at night. More o

So this is what having free time is like.  A leisurely Friday night.  A Georgia Mule.  And some time and creative energy to blog. Sincerely, folks, I think about you all every day.  I think about why I'm not blogging...and it all really boils down to two things. 1. I don't want to.  I have a life...and boy howdy, is it full right now.  Three kids, three different sports activities.  Boy Scouts, Student Council, part-time jobs.  Not to mention, a six-day workweek.  When I'm not bartending, I'm thinking about, planning for, prepping for, or operating my food truck.  Some nights I barely have enough energy to sit down and play Level 500 of my Cupcake Mania iPhone game. 2. I have nothing to blog about.  I'm not about to waste bandwidth on the Jimmy John's tuna sandwich I ate whilst shuttling Child #3 to soccer.  Nor do I feel like going on about the random kitchen-sink chili I threw in the crockpot that morning. I'm not trying to rationalize or justify. 

Good morning, dear readers!  I hope you are all healthy and happy...or at least well on your way to being so. Spring is in full swing here at Chez Nelson.  And by spring, I mean spring athletics at the high school level.  Not only do we contend with tired, worn-out, cranky children (and their parents), we spent 50% of our free time shuttling children, watching kids, and eating dinner in staggered shifts. While I enjoy all of this, I also look forward to summer...when, you know, things kind of slow down and we can see each other for a few minutes.  That particular last point is brought home very close to me these days as I'm only a little over a year away from sending one kid off to college.  Eeeeek. The crockpot has been my friend as of late.  Two nights ago was spaghetti and meatballs and last night was chicken breasts and whole sweet potatoes.  In a slow cooker, food can sit safely for a long while and the family can come and go, eating out of it whenever they can. But, i

Last Sunday was Easter.  Jesus rose from the grave.  So goes the biblical lore. I believe I mentioned in my last post that I was the lucky receiver of the Easter Hambone at my in-laws.  And yes, I did make ham broth in my crockpot this week.  And yes, we finally got around to having Ham and Bean Soup tonight.  Two cups of whatever dried beans you've got in the pantry (you DO have dried beans sitting around your house, right?), about four cups of the broth, two cups of water, and the shredded/diced bits of ham from the leftover Easter Ham you also got to take home with the bone. Yes, yes...if you have the time, add some diced carrots, celery, and onions to the crockpot as well.  Low heat for 10 hours or so.  Have your husband make some cornbread...or you can make it, too, I guess, if he refuses.  But, *don't* have Ham and Bean Soup without it.  And diced fresh onions on top.  I always thought people ate H&B soup under these two parameters...but as I get older, I realize

Hurrah...hurrah.  The eggs go marching one by one, the little one stop to suck his thumb...and they all go marching in...to the earth...to get out of the rain. My oldest son used to love singing this song when he was little.  Except, we would sing "ants" instead of "eggs".  Nowadays, he prefers Maroon 5 and Macklemore.  Alas. Oh.  My teenage sources inform me:  It *is* supposed to be ants instead of eggs.  In the song.  Okay.  But, that's the beauty of one-syllable words.  Makes song lyric substitution a beautiful thing. So.  Easter.  Rabbits.  Fertility.  Rebirth.  Eggs. I like hard-boiled eggs.  Cooked just right, bright yellow yolk, little salt and pepper...?  Yes. And when someone brings huevos de diablo to the family potluck, I enjoy them that way too.  In fact, they often are one of the first things to disappear...especially if Brent is present at the same family potluck.  He's always good for a half-dozen, at least. Standard Easter di

When a simple project that should really take 26 days ends up taking over three months...then it's probably time to table it for awhile.  And honestly, I didn't want to post here unless I had a letter for you.  But I rarely had a letter, so I rarely posted.  Trapped, as it were.  So, I'm letting the project go for awhile.  I want to write more often here, and now, I suffer no more from the paralysis. WanderLunch the food truck is now open for the season.  Our first day, Saturday the 12th, was a long, but profitable day.  Then, we opened for our weekly lunch crowd on Thursday and Friday, and those days were a disappointment.  We had low turnout both days, and I have no reason why.  Maybe it's still too cold, maybe people have forgotten about me - hard to say.  It's completely possible people really are not liking my sandwiches anymore and instead of telling me, they're just not coming 'round.  Worst case scenario, right there. There.  Now that I have le

My food truck business started back up this past weekend, and from here until November, the weeks will be packed.  Sandwich-slinging Thursday-Saturday and bartending work Monday-Wednesday.  And Sunday, I guess, is the day to sleep in and hide in my house. Hiding out is the one thing I feel like doing a lot of these days.  My food truck's ReOpening wasn't the only thing happening in my hometown this weekend past.  A 13-year-old boy was accidentally shot and killed on Saturday and then yesterday, the police department busted one of the biggest meth labs in a long time. Both are tragic...one is a sad loss, one that will devastate a loving family for the rest of their lives.  One is tragic only because of the profound stupidity/ignorance/addiction of a few people who happen to be living in a town mostly filled with good-hearted, hard-working people. And if it's not drama at the local level, then there's the constant bombardment of news that seems to be vividly illustr

In a search of posts on this blog, I discovered I've blogged about chicken stock at least three times.  I've mentioned it several times beyond that. It seems...important, then? I'm usually a big fan of doing a whole chicken in the crockpot with my aromatics and a lot of water and making my stock that way.  It's certainly much easier. But, upon finding a ziploc bag of turkey bones and such in the freezer (saved since Christmas), I opted for the old-school top-of-the-stove method. 1. Find pot. A big one. 2. Empty baggie of picked-over turkey bits into pot. 3. Cut up three or four carrots, throw them in (leave the skins on, people!) 4. Repeat #3 with celery (which I'm ashamed to admit I did not have at the time). 5. Quarter a couple of small onions and get them to the party. 6. Add a few bay leaves and peppercorns. 7. Cover the whole lot with water. Here's the excellent thing about stock.  You definitely have to do steps 1, 2, and 7.  Everything el

 R-r-r-r-r-r-apini! Whenever I come across some unusual piece of produce not often seen in these parts, I don't hesitate to snatch it up.  Buy first, recipe later...is what I say. I've bought enough kale, spinach, parsley, etc., to know that this bunch of greens was none of those things.  And so without further ado, I snatched these up. At home, research informed me that rapini is actually marketed more frequently as broccoli rabe...and that, I'd heard of.  But, I'd never fixed it. Until now. As it turns out, broccoli rabe is much less like broccoli, and more like kale.  I originally thought I'd sauté it with garlic and olive oil and throw it in with some farro for a nice side dish.   Alas.  I've been laid rather low with a cold the past  couple of days.  The farro thing never quite came to fruition...just didn't have the energy.  But - soup.  Yeah.  Just the thing for a cold, right? Modifications on a farro-white bean-swiss chard

Have you ever heard that old adage that Ignorance is Bliss?  Better off not knowing?  If you knew then what you know now? Etc? Tonight is an instance where knowledge is NOT power, it is a burden...and the Internet is a curse. Q = Quinine. Quinine is a herbal substance and it's what imparts its bitterness to tonic water...tonic water being a popular mixer for spirits.  The classic gin & tonic, vodka tonic, and about a million other combinations that would be amazing. However, did you know quinine used to be a treatment for malaria?  And babesiosis...that weird disease the nurses ask about when you give blood (fyi, a disease transmitted by parasites like ticks - gross!)  These days, we've got such amazing advances in modern medicine, quinine is no longer Top of the List...only as a last resort, says the World Health Organization. Because, as it turns out, quinine is one of those medicines that have a myriad of side-effects that seem a whole lot worse than just suffe

Chiffon. 1. A fun French word to say.  A chiffarific word to say, actually. 2. A word that, for me, evokes a certain kind of glamour and elegance. Probably because of this... As a youngster, chiffon was a word that described a very gauzy, light, delicate, and pretty fabric that dresses were made out of.  See the picture at left.  Dresses like that . Dresses I never got to wear...ever...especially at proms in the 90s, which were all satin and sequins. Naw...these types of frocks were reserved for the cast of Dynasty and princesses. So, the question today is: how did this particular type of fabric become the name of a particular kind of pie or cake? Answer: both chiffons require delicate handling and result in delicate, light products. We have the beautiful dress above (incidentally, I do have a dress like this in my closet, and I wear it only when I'm baking chiffon cakes or pies).  And we also have chiffon pies, which are gelatin-based and are rather airy and mou

I am currently awaiting creative writing and culinary inspiration, and thus, today's post in the Kitchen Alphabet Challenge is quite a s-t-r-eeeeeeeeeeee-t-c-h. I was recently thumbing through a food publication and was instantly intrigued by a clever little tip to quick-peel mangoes.  The process involves a knife, a glass, and a cutting board.  Start by segmenting the mango into four or three wedges (mango pits are, indeed, the pits).  Make a slit in one mango segment end and wedge it over the lip of your glass.  Use both hands to slide the peel down the glass, and the whole mango piece comes off like Boy Howdy! Note: You ARE pressing down with a fair amount of force on the glass, and if you don't pick a sturdy enough one... Lesson learned.  Fortunately, NO injuries were sustained.  That. Would. Have. Been. Horrible. However, now that I know...further danger will be averted in future. Cheers!

Key Lime Pie. Oh.   Whoa.  Just had a thought.  If I did a Key Lime-Mango-Nectarine-Orange Pie...I would get KLMNOP all in one go.  Not that there's Guinness World Record for that, but still, impressive enough to put on a résumé, yeah? Anyway, pie.  Yeah, pie!  My relationship with pie has evolved through the years.  Out of the three desserts I grew up the most familiar with, pie was my least favorite.  Cake was first, followed by cookies, and pie brought up the rear.  (I would not experience such delights as créme brulee, panna cotta, Bavarian cream, cheesecake, etc under years later.) Since culinary school and, in particular, my baking classes, I've developed a new appreciation for pie.  Cakes can be fussy, and can require add-ons like...frosting.  If we could just eat it, as is, out of the cake pan, it would be great, but generally society frowns upon that kind of savagery.  And then cookies.  Yes, there's a fair amount of creativity one can have with cookies...bu

As a former English teacher and long-time writer, I enjoy playing Scrabble.  However, it's been my experience that 'K' is one of the tougher letters to work into a decent-scoring word.  It is likely that it's really not that hard, and that I'm functioning at a low level of competence.  Or maybe I'm having bad letter luck.  Or, maybe...it really is that hard to use the letter K. But when it comes to the culinary world, K abounds everywhere.  The vitamin K. Kimchi. Kiwi. Key lime (that's tomorrow). And on and on and on... But, we're outside the box a little bit today.  No worries, yeah?  Here we go. I live in Iowa.  Southeast Iowa, to be somewhat geographically precise.  A few more miles east of me is a thriving, vibrant, visible Amish and Mennonite community.  One of the primary centers of this faith/lifestyle is a little town called Kalona.  The main town is chockablock full of quilt shops, cabinet stores, quaint bakeries...and a pretty BA brewery

Today is January 13.  This month is almost half-over.  Incredible how time flies, yes? I'm not one for New Year's resolutions, because it's been my experience and theory that people usually intend to change something about themselves or their lifestyle...something they are unhappy with, but up until December 31, they have not quite galvanized themselves to change.  January 1 seems to be as good a time as any to cast away bad habits and begin new ones.  And, then for some reason, those resolutions fall apart in the dreary, icky, cold grayness that is usually January (here in the Midwest, anyway).  And then, for all that, I did actually make resolutions for myself this year.  Even though I expect to fall off the wagon a lot, I feel I must have something to work towards. 1. I have endeavored to be more creative this year.  I did repair my son's First Act guitar and I have the primary instruction books.  I'm going to teach myself how to play guitar this year.  I a

First of all, a healthy and happy start to the New Year for all my readers!  Let this be the year of great things! This last year has certainly been an unprecedented one for me.  A new job for the husband and a new business for me.  The wheels of life continue to turn and there have been many ups and downs, and we will see exactly what 2016 has in store for us. For the last several New Years, we have spent the night festivaling at a cousin's house...he usually fixes a decent amount of food, we bring drink and games and we have a great old time ringing in the new year.  He's done a theme, food-wise, for the last couple of years, and last night's was Italian.  He made his own lasagna noodles and bread, and we brought over a nice Chianti and an antipasta platter. I was at the mercy of the local grocery store's wares in regards to meat, cheese, and olives.  As you can see, we're looking at a pretty standard plate.  Despite this averageness, the contents of the