Now We're Cooking

The semester seems to have gotten away from me, somehow, at least as far as posting about my cooking adventures goes. Now that finals week is upon us (at least here), I, of course, take this opportunity to catch up on my . . . cooking!

Quick rewind a month or so back. I decided, after eying the particular recipe off and on, to make Coq au Vin. And it turned out deliciously, if I do say so myself. I'm reminded of the scene in Julia Powell's Julie and Julia (later brought to the big screen) where one takes swigs of their wine of choice as he or she empties the better part of a bottle into a dutch oven. Of course, this is the scenario that played out in my kitchen, utilizing a very nice Cabernet Sauvignon (can't remember what kind, but I digress).

The dish worked out well, though for whatever reason I didn't use enough butter (!), even though I followed the recipe to the letter, straight from The Joy of Cooking. Thank you Erma Rombauer. My boys did eye the so-called "purple chicken" suspiciously, but everyone agreed it was a nice treat.

Last night, I decided to make a homemade beef stew. It ended up being much more a rustic, chunky soup in a broth (though not the thin, condensed-soup broth that we all love so much). It turned out well; the beef was tender, spiced to perfection, and the veggies were at that perfect al dente, short of mush. I added Worcestershire sauce, which I love, and it added a zing to an already flavorful dish.

I'm trying to figure out, then, what to tackle next. I kind of want to do a "master" recipe, though I never have anyone with a discerning palate to cook for aside from my boys of various ages. Hmmmmmm.

While I consider, I think I'll go whip up an eggnog-cinnamon cheesecake, with a graham cracker crust. Seems like a good idea.

"In a cream sauce, it's a tasty little fowl. . . "

Remember my rhapsodizing over cream sauces? Well, it might not be a cream sauce, but it got pretty darn close. AND it included wine, one of my very favorite things.

First off, I have been bitten by the cooking bug, though I still can't find the patience in me to actually follow a recipe. I even bought The Joy of Cooking, mostly because I figured I needed to work my way up to Mastering the Art of French Cooking, Vols. I and II. Still, I decided to take some inspiration by a recipe I'm sure is in there somewhere, with a lovely concoction I'll call Chardonnay-Mushroom Chicken.

It was simple, and of course required me to drink Chardonnay. All I did was cut up a boneless, skinless chicken breast (must mind the portion sizes, of course. . . grrr), brown 3 oz. of cut up mushrooms in 1 Tbsp of olive oil, and then make a sauce with a little pour (we'll say 1/4 cup) of chicken broth, 1 Tbsp of skim milk, 1 tsp of garlic powder, and 1/2 tsp of cornstarch. Oh, and, of course, the Chardonnay. A lovely Festival '34 Chardonnay--and all I used in the sauce was about a Tbsp to a Tbsp and a half. I drank much more than I cooked with.

THEN I put the chicken, some more broth (sure, another 1/4 cup-ish), the sauce, and mushrooms in a pan, covered in foil, and baked. It turned out very nice, very moist, and quite tasty with very little salt. I think I would have used real garlic (if I had remembered), but I was so distracted with the vino that I forgot to chop any up. The sauce wasn't very think--probably needed more cornstarch.

But other than that, I didn't even really miss the cream. . . . much.

"A bottle of red, a bottle of white. . ."

Two points for whomever can guess the title's reference.

In any case, can I just say that I love Italian restaurants? Not I-talian restaurants, but really good, really local, really . . . GOOD Italian restaurants. I got the opportunity to venture out, mit kein Kinder, on a date night. Now, of course, being me, this meant that we had to try out a local restaurant, mull over some wine or cocktails, and eat at a leisurely stroll rather than a breakneck run. We decided on Italian and headed out toward Canton.

Luckily, we found a great little place called Sylvester's North Side Grille. Normally I'd make some comment about the "e" on the end, but in this case it was well worth the extra letter. We walked in the door and the manager/maitre d' advised to grab a drink at the bar and he'd seat us within 20 minutes. So after nursing a Maker's Mark and Coke, we were seated very quickly in a cozy booth.

What followed was a cavalcade of deliciousness. Or deliciosity. Whatever it was, it was divine. And it was all washed down with a lovely Banfi Reservo Chianti Classico. Everything tastes better with Chianti. Including, apparently, fava beans and some poor sap's liver.

Er, ANYway. . .

First off, calamari. Now, this was not your typical grab-a-handful-of-frozen-squid-and-deepfry-it calamari. This was lovingly sautéed with red peppers, green peppers, onions, and pickled Cubanelle peppers. Excellent. Salad, of course, with a lovely vinaigrette, mopped up with homemade bread. Then, I had the best chicken piccata I have ever had, which included artichokes, capers, a white wine sauce, and lemon zest. Oh, and fresh parsley. Alex had chicken parmigiana, which looked delicious, too. I won't rhapsodize over his food, because, well, I didn't eat it.

There was absolutely no way I could eat dessert, which was a shame since I was celebrating losing 41 pounds, but I'm sure I'll get to sometime.

"A bottle of white, a bottle of red, perhaps a bottle of Rosé instead. . . "

Stuffing the Proverbial Pepper

Okay, so the title of this blog makes it sound like I'm about to post something dirty. I'm really not. I thought it was funny, considering I made stuffed green peppers last night for the first time (and ate them for the first time in YEARS). Now, remember, I'm stuck in this whole I-wanna-get-healthy-so-I'm-gonna-eat-healthy-ALLTHETIME rut (ha), so the traditional recipe had to be altered a bit. Gone was the delicious Italian sausage-and-tons-of-cheese stuffing, replaced by ground turkey, nearly-puréed mushrooms and red onions, plain tomato sauce, brown rice, and variety of spices.

In all fairness, I did break down and cover the lot of it with pizza sauce and a tiny tiny TINY smidgen of part-skim mozzarella.

It was very tasty. You almost wouldn't know that it was less that 400 calories for an entire pepper stuffed to the gills. Of course, as I was waiting for the blasted thing to cook (apparently one has to bake the darn things for almost 2 hours, which I of course neglected to discover until 5 pm, when 2 very hungry family members were whining about wanting food), I paged through one of my many cookbooks. Mmmmmmm chicken pasties. . . . mmmmmmmm maraschino cherry meringue . . . . . mmmmm Cabernet Sauvignon.

In any case, the only indulgence I had while waiting for said peppers to bake was the Cabernet. The rest would have taken forever to make, and, well, I had already put in the effort for the stuffed peppers. Of course, my 7-year-old still only ate a BIT of the stuffing and none of the pepper. . . but he didn't know about the hidden veg. Victory!

I still think I want to cook through a cookbook. Or many cookbooks. Just not one with gross recipes. . . and you know what I mean. Any suggestions?

The Pesto Problem

I decided to deal with the fact that my syllabus for the class I teach starting Tuesday is not done by experimenting in the kitchen. I often do things like that--clean, do laundry, cook--when I should be doing something else, usually something academic. Take now, for instance. My procrastination at this very moment involves blogging and watching Food Network Challenge (in this case, "Last Cake Standing"). Wow. I want cake. Lots and lots of cake.

I digress.

In any case, I celebrated shopping at one of the best farmers' markets in the area by buying 8 MILLION peppers. Green bell peppers, red bell peppers, yellow bell peppers, and medium-hot Hungarian peppers. Apparently, I was in the mood for peppers. I also purchased 2 pounds of mushrooms, 3 pounds of green beans, an acorn squash, peaches, tomatoes, and a dozen ears of corn. Grand total spent: about $25. SCORE.

I roasted some red peppers (surprisingly easy) and put pine nuts, parmesan cheese, fresh basil from my porch pot, oregano, and garlic in a food processor. It smelled AWESOME. . . but tasted, well, like pepper, garlic, and spices. It was definitely missing something. It tasted better over chicken and mushrooms sautéd in olive oil and whole wheat pasta. But still. ARG.

I know how I'd have fixed it in my pre-healthy-eating life. I'd have thrown in some heavy whipping cream (mmmmmmmm cream sauce) or bread crumbs or something. Instead, I think tomato paste would work. Or fresh chopped tomatoes. Or adding the garlic with the chicken and mushrooms. I don't know. I really miss heavy whipping cream as a legitimate cooking ingredient.

Darn the 32 pounds I've lost. Darn it straight to heck. It's too motivating.

I still think cream would have tasted great.

Coming out of denial.

Denial, my friends, ain't just a river in Egypt.

No, it is the safe haven I go to when I don't want to face the fact that cream sauces DO NOT generally fit into my new. . . happy. . . lifestyle. I'll admit, I do like the fact I don't have to suck in my generous gut just to zip up my pants, but DARN IT, I do love a good cream sauce.

Preferably a cream sauce complemented by chocolate, streusel, and cheese.

I've decided to blog about my sad sad relationship with food, especially as I attempt to finish (aka start) my dissertation, which has nothing to do with food in the slightest. It probably doesn't help that my favorite shows, as of today, are "Hell's Kitchen" and "Top Chef."

God help me. At least I tend to be humorous at my most self-deprecating. At least, I think so.