Thursday, August 1, 2013

When you participate in a Community Supported Agriculture (CSA) project, you get lots of vegetables. Mucho mucho. Some with names you have never heard of, e.g., verdolaga. The CSA process demands creativity. My husband, for example, made a pesto from garlic scapes*, the stem-leafy part of garlic.

I had the following CSA loot to work with: cabbage, carrots, celery, scallions, red onion, wilted green leafy things,* and soon-to-wilt cilantro. I also had leftover salsa. A quick scan of the refrigerator shelves revealed a jar of artichoke bruschetta. I decided: why not combine the joys of salsa & slaw, and ooo-la-la it with artichoke dressing?

Traditionally, a slaw consists of lots of cabbage and some carrots. I used a peeler to peel the entire carrot into slivers. The cabbage I sliced super fine, perhaps a millimeter in depth, but the length was long, possibly six inches. I added the pre-made salsa (onions, peppers, tomatoes, cilantro, and jalapeno -- also diced). On the theory that you can't have too much cilantro, I chopped up more. I used one teaspoon of the artichoke bruschetta along with a splash of olive oil to dress it all. And of course, I added more salt. I love salt as much as life itself.

I was tempted to add a sliced plum, but it's akin to coaching a monkey to ride a bicycle on a tightrope --- adding one more thing will send the whole thing crashing. And I have to eat my mistakes, unlike those celebrity chefs on TV.

I scooped up my slaw with Garden of Eatin Blue Chips, which I prefer because they contain 2 g fiber per serving. So I can justify chips and salsa as a nutritional supplement.

*Garlic Scapes

**The leafy things wilted because I didn't know what to do. I threw those into a vegetable broth project, together with onions, celery, and carrots.

Thursday, July 25, 2013

OMG: Sheep's milk camembert

My mother's a big fan of sheep's milk cheese. She once transported a duffel bag full of cheese across thousands of miles by land and by air. I didn't know what she was up to until the day after we'd landed in New York. I opened our refrigerator and founds a shelf full of cheese with Portuguese labels or no label at all. I'm reminded of that episode of I Love Lucy where Lucille Ball attempts to smuggle an obscene amount of cheese from Italy by pretending a slab of cheese is a swaddled baby. [Season 5: Episode 26]

I'm embarking on a cheesescapade. I plan to taste each of the varieties of cheese listed by Fresh Direct, an online grocer. And, it's been marvelous. My latest discovery is the buttery heaven that is sheep's milk camembert. Here's the strange thing: I have recent memories of turning up my nose at camembert. It was tooo strong. And that smell. Something was rotting and why on earth would I want to put that rot in my mouth?

But now the white mold that forms the ripe rind of the cheese doesn't bother me. I use to cut it off as though it had cooties. Now it's part of the cheese's charm. Perhaps, I'm finally growing up. That is, before I had immature taste buds, and therefore I liked the bland. Now, I'm judging cheese on it's own terms. Yes, it's moldy milk. But there are ways to cultivate mold that bring out the greatest flavors.

"You can't get this cheese here," my mother explained when we questioned her about the alleged craziness of her heist. Pasteurization kills the flavors. The best cheeses are local, as is the cheese that caught my fancy. It's made by Old Chatham Sheepherding Company of Hudson Valley. Spread it in some toast. It's like butter. Literally.

Thursday, July 18, 2013

Eat Like a Gorilla

That's right. Eat like a Gorilla. As part of my quest to eat as many kinds of cheeses as possible this year, I'm diligently cutting non-cheese calories. But smaller portions are not my style. I like food, and lots of it. So I've decided to eat like a gorilla. Serve myself with a trough.

The catch: I gotta fill that trough with fruits, vegetable, and other high-fiber foods. Gorillas get to EAT ALL DAY. And so can you, if you eat the high-fiber way. I'm lucky. My job has an excellent salad bar, complete with lightly marinated grilled vegetables. I simply ask for ALL the available items (except meat). Unlike the proverbial gorilla, I add both feta and goat cheese to my salad. OMG, the saltiness! Such briny beauty. I used to eat Athenos feta, but now that I've tried real creamy, salty fresh feta, I can never go back. Never.

I also add fruit to my green salads. Like grilled nectarines. And all kinds of berries: blue-, black-, straw- and raspberries. So yummy.

Because the ingredients are super-fresh, I don't need to add much dressing. I used to plop on tablespoons of an lemon-Italian House dressing, but I found that my salads actually tasted better when I added just a tablespoon or two of balsamic vinaigrette.

Basic rule of thumb: the fresher the food, the less work it takes to prepare yummy meals, and the less fat needs to be added.

With less dressing, you actually taste the crispness of the lettuce, and benefit from the bite of the vegetables. The individual flavors hold sway, whereas when you over-dress, it all blends into a fatty mush.

Don't dull your salads by coating your taste buds with too much oily dressing. I'm loathe to repeat the cliche, but alas, it's apt: less is more.

Friday, July 12, 2013

The Holy Cheese Plate

I'm embarking on a quest. Try all cheeses made available by Fresh Direct, the online grocery shopping site. They have lots: probably literally so.

Fresh Direct organizes cheeses into the following categories: New & Noteworthy, Cheddars & Jacks; Brie & Friends; Chevres & Goats; Swiss & Alpine; Blues; Fetas; Fresh & Soft; Firm; Mozzarellas; Parmesan & Grating; Light & Soy; Goudas; Stinky; Sheeps; and Semi-Soft.

First, I will try all the cheeses that are meltable or spreadable to use as condiments for spectacular sandwiches. Then I will experiment with all cheeses recommended by readers and friends. Let me know what your favorite cheese is, and I'll blog about it.

Then, I'll move onto the exotic, i.e., out of the ordinary cheeses. Then, onto cheeses that I don't remember tasting, but might have tasted, in order to give them a second chance. Then all the rest. I am, however, not looking forward to Soy & Light (even more fear-inspiring than stinky cheese). But, onward ho. All cheese must I try!

After I've tried at least one version of each kind of cheese, I'll try variations, i.e., a second variety of feta.

Sunday, July 7, 2013

Cheese Pleases

I faced a dilemma. Should I write about healthy eating or the magic of melted cheese? Background: I'm doing the president's challenge fitness program, which includes eight healthy eating goals. One goal, which I'm struggling with this week, is "I chose fat-free or low-fat (1%) milk, yogurt, or cheese." I'm into week four of the program, which I'll discuss in greater detail in another post. For now, see: https://www.presidentschallenge.org

"Fat-free cheese." Oh please. And low-fat cheese is not the answer either. Portion control (another presidential eating goal) will be important. But it's not enough. One of the requirements of the president's challenge is 30 minutes of daily exercise. Unfortunately, whenever I embark on a major exercise program, my appetite explodes. Sometimes I'm so hungry, particularly at night, I need more food than your average diet would allow. I need volume AND I need fat. Fat fills your belly and triggers that "I'm sated" sensation that tells us to stop eating.

So, I'm giving up beef for the time being in order to free up fat calories for cheese, and to preserve my right to super-size a few items. And I'm trying to get more of my protein calories from beans, fish, and low-fat milk and yogurt (2%). I'm not giving up beef forever. Perish that thought. I like vegetarian food, but sometimes you NEED a hamburger. No, I'm merely shaking things up.

I'll drink 1% milk, but never skim. And seriously is 2% fat dairy such a big deal? Two percent is still much less than the fat percentage of your standard cut of beef, right? Healthy eating is important, but pleasure is a worthy goal that merits daily attention, i.e., pleasure in non-negotiable.

So I do the math. Two percent Greek yogurt has 170 calories per cup, of which 40 comes from fat. So 2% translates into 24% of calories from fat. One percent milk has 100 calories, of which 20 are fat. So 1% = 20% of calories from fat. Yikes, that's some unexpected math. But still, it's only 20-40 calories. Let the fat remain.

Next post: Doing the Math for Cheese.

Wednesday, July 3, 2013

Necessary tools: Sandwich Press

I recently bought a grill/sandwich press, and I don't know how I survived four decades without one. Ordinarily, I would say simplify, simplify your kitchen. Give away your gadgets and sweep out specialized equipment. But "necessary" tools save time. To become "necessary," an object must be used almost daily.

The beauty of the sandwich press is that it converts what would have been limp leftovers into gourmet food.

Jamie Oliver, the Naked Chef, is also a fan of the sandwich press, and uses it to make signature sarnis.

A few days ago, I used the grill to quickly cook boneless spare ribs. The following day, I thinly sliced the pork and layered it with ham and cheese to make a freshly pressed Cuban. For another day, I used the Cuisinart to make pancakes, bacon, and eggs for a "breakfast for dinner" meal.

Monday, March 25, 2013

Fresh & Fridge Salad

The Job: Make the freshest salad possible without leaving the apartment.

The Mark: Yummy, sweet yellow peppers from Whole Foods - The vegetable was just sitting there in the crisper, almost begging to be used.

The Seductive Scent: dark basil plant on windowsill, also from Whole Foods - I took a few leaves. No one saw me.

The Scavenger Hunt Booty: pre-washed red radishes, and pre-cut white-with-green-splash cucumber - Yeah, somebody else did the work. But, if I didn't take it, it'd end up in the trash. Probably. Waste not, want not, and what not.

The Staples: Team 1, The Fridge: grated parmesan, mixed-pitted olives, feta, pickled peperoncini

The Staples: Team 2, The Pantry: sea salt, olive oil, sherry vinegar

The Rejects: limp mesculun lettuce and dry, chicken breast leftover from yesterday's Taco Night - I'm a artist, not a junk man.

The Sensual Break-down:

Color: bright yellow (pepper), yellow-green (pepperoncini), dark green (basil); red, highly contrasted with white (radish)

Texture & Sound (Crunch): peppers; radish; long wet slivers of cucumber

Texture, Slippery or Smooth: emulsifying effect of grated parmesan & feta crumbles when combined with vinegar & oil; feel of rotating oil-soaked olives on tongue as they resist the teeth

Scent: Basil (proof there are forces for good in the universe)

Taste buds: salty (cheeses, olives, anything pickled), mildly sweet (pepper); mildly bitter (radish); sour (peperoncini, vinegar) tempered by oil.

The Salad: So good, I ate it before I remembered to take a picture for The Whatever Cook.

Image: Oracle ThinkQuest Education Foundation

Wednesday, March 20, 2013

Comfort food is associated with childhood and home-cooking. For me, it includes Portuguese and Mediterranean dishes -- the food that permeated my childhood.

Comfort foods engage many sense receptors: our taste buds, our sense of smell, our sense of texture, how a food feels on our tongue and fingers, our visual sensibilities, even our hearing. Consider: snap, crackle, and pop.

It's moist. It's got enough salt/seasoning, and fat to make you feel satisfied after eating one serving, though we may want to go back for seconds if we ate quickly, and didn't give our bodies time to feel a natural sense of fullness.

The Portuguese used to take three hours off from work -- 12-3 pm -- to eat the main meal. Perhaps in some places, they still do. To my dad, eating standing up was akin to sacrilege. [The spiritual life of food is a post for another day.]


Some examples of my comfort foods:
Steaming chicken soup (NEVER low sodium);
Mom's salad made with vegetables from her garden, including crunchy cucumbers, hand-torn lettuce, and seasoned by hand with oil, red vinegar, salt, and pepper (Mom literally coats the ingredients by hand);
european-style french fries, slightly soggy and salty;
caldeirada, a slightly spicy seafood stew similar to zuppa di pesci or bouillebaise;
chicken legs cooked in almost any form;
and fresh bread with a crisp crust and moist insides.

I used to scoop out, loosely ball up, and eat the bread’s guts like it was candy. When my mom and dad discovered hollow loaves of bread, they would teasingly demand we search the house for a rat.

Did you notice my pattern? I want texture and salt. If you took salt away from me, I would collapse (probably literally because I have low blood pressure). Salt is my family entitlement. It’s what I happily ate as a child.

Not surprisingly, our minds respond positively to happy memories, and memories from childhood are the most powerful. Sensual memories from childhood are deeply embedded in the most primitive parts of our brain. They’re the last memories to go.

When we get what we want, we become happy, however temporarily. On a rotten day, a sensual, nostalgic meal gives you a slice of heaven. Eat the slice. Life really is that simple.

[See: scene when The Critic first tastes ratatouille in eponymous Disney movie for a fabulous illustration of the power of nostalgia and family-friendly sensuality.]

Next UP: Easy Food Explained

Monday, March 11, 2013

Creativity Can't Stay Down: Picante Strawberry Salsa

My new year's resolution was to give up cooking. Seriously. I try to learn too much new stuff on my own. (Jewelry making, marketing, Hebrew, etc.) Plus, theoretically, I'm writing a book. Then there's My Quest for Meaning, which is, I admit, a major drain on productivity. (See: Woman of the Verge of a Mystic Breakdown.)

Oh, and the two kids. MY PLATE IS TOO DAMN FULL.

There is only so much change a human can accomodate in a short period. All change is stressful. Admittedly, not all stress is bad. But, consider, you too are human. Blah blah blah. Routine! That's the secret to success, no matter what motivational books might say. Establish routines, and stick to them. Have a bedtime routine. A morning routine. A laundry routine.

Because it's the only path left for me to try, I embark on a quest for normalcy and routinization. And so, cooking or creativity in the kitchen must go. It's too hard for me to follow recipes, or even remember more than one step at a time. Know thyself. Recognize thy kyptonite.

Keep it Simple Stupid/Students/Sonny. First, I tell myself, organize no-cook meals for the kids. My teenage son creates a two-week meal schedule. I sign up for regular time to get deliveries of groceries from Fresh Direct. I set up Google Calendar. Baby steps. I starting looking at my Google Calendar daily. (This month's goal: try to look at calendar on weekends too. Sigh.)

But, normalcy is practically impossible. I don't stick to the approved menus and shopping lists. In fact, most of the time, I don't even carry shopping lists with me. I do impromptu stops at stores because they were "on the way."

Ah, attention deficit disorder: I don't know if I "really" have you, but, if the symptoms and remedies match up, does it really matter? A distraction by any other name would pull me away just as fiercely...

Strawberry Salsa

I buy too much Fresh Direct hot salsa. It was on sale. I know I shouldn't succumb to buy 2 & save gimmicks. Rationally, I know. "Where are the Nachos?" my husband asks. Who thought of nachos?

I buy too many strawberries, which I bought on impulse Saturday along with other fruits and vegetables. They looked so good. My son asked for strawberries. My small child requested we stop the car now! and buy a healthy snack from a Manhattan vendor. Am I to stay on schedule and say NO? So we circled and circled city blocks until mommy gave up and double-parked.

So, I scan the refrigerator. Too much hot salsa and too many strawberries. Eureka! Add the chopped sweet one-day-before-rot strawberries to Fresh Direct hot salsa. Serve on Sweet Potatoes chips.

I'm back. The Whatever Cook. Though probably not so much with the "cooking." Creative food things for people with short attention spans.