Kids

I recently read the book Hungry Monkey about a food writer here in Seattle and his daughter. The subtitle says it all: A food-loving father's quest to raise an adventurous eater. I found myself buoyed by his success, but also wishing him harm.

I have been trying to come up with and stick to a rational and realistic family dinner philosophy. (Have you noticed that I am all about philosophies? I missed my calling. After getting A's on all of my philosophy papers, how could I not become a philosopher? That has to be one arena without a glass ceiling; it just wouldn't make sense for one to exist. Existentially.) Anyway, I decided that we would eat at the table together, and eat mostly the same things, at least three times per week. Gradually, I want to work up to a special Sunday night dinner and eating together five nights a week. Also, Sam should have something to try nearly every night. "Trying" means he chews and swallows. Bribing is not off the table during the initiation phase.

I launched into my new plan with vigor.

To get him to try potstickers (not from scratch), I told him that he had to chew and swallow or he wouldn't have yogurt raisins for dessert. "That's okay," he told me. "I can have more tomorrow." Foiled! "No," I said. "No more raisins ever. Never ever. I will eat them all now." See, when you have a child and you decide to threaten, you must be prepared to follow through. I am not a huge yogurt raisin fan, but there weren't that many in the bag, so I was totally ready to see this threat to the end. I got the yogurt raisins out and grabbed a handful, dramatically bringing my fist to my gaping maw. In horror and desperation, Sam bit his potsticker and proceeded to gag and whimper as he chewed. "I want to spit it out," he said. "No," I hissed. "Swallow it." And I brought some raisins to my mouth again. Sam swallowed and declared, "I like it. That's delicious." He is nothing if not polite, because this was a blatant lie.

So one night I make this lovely noodle salad with tofu fritters on the side. I decide that Sam will try a fritter for his dinner, expecting that I will be eating his serving later. Lowered expectations have the potential to make you happy! He liked the fritter! He actually liked it. So, naturally, I am flooding the boy with fritters. I made a second batch a couple nights ago and snatched a couple out of Josh's mouth because "if Sam will eat these, then, by God, your portion will be strictly controlled." Josh begrudgingly gave up a couple.

The above noodle salad makes a lovely summer meal.

Noodle Sauce

3T sesame oil, 3T soy sauce, 1T sugar, 4tsp. rice vinegar, dash of chile oil, 1 tsp. grated ginger. Make some noodles and cut up a ton of veggies. I like cabbage, bean sprouts, radishes, celery, and shaved carrot.

Tofu Fritters

16oz. firm tofu, 2T minced green onion, 2 tsp. minced ginger, 1T sesame oil, 1T peanut oil, 3T miso paste of your choice (I like white or yellow). Saute the green onion and ginger for a couple of minutes over med-low heat in the peanut oil. Add the sesame oil for the last 20 seconds. Crumble tofu in a food processor; add the onion-ginger mixture and the miso. Blend until smooth. You can fold in edamame if you like. Heat your peanut or canola oil to 350. Then scoop little fritters into cornstarch to coat. Immediately (otherwise the cornstarch sinks into the tofu) add fritters to either a deep fry at 350 or a shallow fry of peanut or canola oil. Fry until GBD.* Drain on paper towels. These can be reheated later and last for a couple of days without loss of flavor.

*Golden-brown and delicious

Baked Ziti

I met baked ziti about 20 years ago. My mother had a cookbook entitled "365 Days of Italian Dishes," or something like that. There is a whole series, I believe. You could spend a year as all Italian, then one as all French, and so on. I was just getting into reading cookbooks and trying my hand at cooking. When choosing from the Italian book, I knew I needed a meal enough for the family of five that we were. I chose shrimp and kidney beans as a first course (a lovely combination, by the way), probably a salad on the side that I do not recall, and baked ziti. Everyone liked everything and my budding chef identity began. Ziti became a family favorite and even started appearing on the Christmas table. But it does have those pasta casserole sins: mushy pasta and a general dryness.

Fast forward 20 years or so when I met America's Test Kitchen.

I do not recall who introduced Josh and I to ATK, or if we discovered it on our own, but it's ingenious. The idea is that a bunch of chefs test recipes many times and many ways and come up with The Best way to make X. There are cookbooks, magazines, and a TV show. One day, I saw baked ziti. So I made it, and it was excellent.

The keys are way undercooking the pasta, like half the time, and making two sauces - bechamel and red sauce; also, a lot of basil. Oh yeah, instead of ricotta, cottage cheese! Ricotta is really moist and so contributes to mushy pasta. It felt odd pulling pasta out of the boiling water when it was still rigid (4 minutes instead of 11!), but it absolutely worked. And making your own pasta sauce is really the way to go. I just can't buy red sauce anymore in jars. Reading the labels is a horrible habit that puts me off buying, well, everything in a jar or box. And, sometimes, you just need something in a jar or box to help you out.

The size of this dish brings into relief the problem of cooking for two people, only. Too bad we don't live in a community with cousins and siblings, where you have a few extra people for dinner every night. I certainly halve recipes, but sometimes just go for the whole, thinking that we can reheat for leftovers. But reheating is not such a good idea with pasta casseroles, I find. The pasta gets mushier every time.

So the next time I make baked ziti, I'll just have to invite some people over.

Lasagne

This lasagne, or the photo thereof, makes me think of styling food. And the fact that I don't. There is a blog that I like, called Tarelette, and the author is a food stylist. She put up a video of a styling session - props, alternate shots, the works. It was so interesting and awesome ... and time-consuming. I snap a few photos right before Josh and I dig in, so I won't be styling any time soon.

This lasagne is the best ever. I think it turned me into a white-over-red sauce gal. I'm not sure if people pick sides, but they should. That's some chard and mushrooms and couple of bell peppers thrown in for fun. I accidently used rice noodles, but they were really good, so I might make those my go-to lasagne noodle. I discovered that I should undercook the noodles by a couple of minutes in order to get the right texture with the lasagne. I've taken to undercook all of my pasta, actually, since I notice that it makes it too the plate perfectly al dente that way.

Since it is a white lasagne, I had to make a bechamel. I have been thinking this whole time that I am bechamel-challenged because of an utter fiasco with mac and cheese a few years ago. I have since discovered that I am a veritable bechamel genius and what I cannot figure out is the addition of cheese to make a cheese sauce. Phew. Mystery solved. I didn't have to add cheese to this masterpiece, thank goodness.

What Nana and Papa missed

My parents were supposed to come for a visit this week. Dad, aka Papa, was slated to spend two days in town, while Mom, aka Nana, was going to stay longer to watch Sam, thus freeing me up for some serious house and garden work. Alas, the flights didn't work out, so they are still in SF, and Sam and I continue to battle things out on our own in Seattle. To add insult to injury, the Fates smote me with sour weather. Is it almost June or not? Curses. Being indoors with a mischievous (read: delightfully curious) toddler can drive even the most patient of nuns to drink. I've been having my own tipples this week.

Another crying shame about them not making it is the now complete waste of a fabulous menu. Highlights include artichokes with bagna cauda, barbecue pork, crab cakes, and a chickpea ragu with sausage. I hit my new Jacques Pepin cookbook hard while deciding on my dishes. JP is my father's culinary hero ... come to think of it, my mother would have been the one enjoying the dishes, since Dad would have already left. I know; you're thinking, Jen, you can still make all these fabulous things, take photos, and tell us all about them. And this is incentive to continue as planned, dear readers, it is.

And yet.

I have a toddler. These meals take time and require someone to watch the boy. I suppose Elmo has watched him occasionally ... but I don't wish to rely on E too often. Although Sam can count to 14, and I didn't teach him that. Thank you Sesame Street.

By the time I got the news that they definitely weren't coming, I already had all of my ingredients for Tuesday's dinner. So, onward.

Orecchiette (or, rather, the pasta I had on hand) with cauliflower and croutons. The recipe is from the May edition of Bon Appetit. The magazine focused on a few countries and created menus with expert, native input. The most attractive to me was the Italian (Puglian) menu, so I chose a couple dishes (originally, I thought I would make four or five, but realized that I was only cooking for four, so I should just settle down). I think this pasta is something that would be thrown together, perhaps at the end of the week, with leftover veggies and old bread. I have made a couple recipes like this with pasta and garlic croutons or breadcrumbs. So good. The "dressing" is olive oil and anchovy paste. Add some Pecorino and Parmesan and parsley - minding your P's - and you are good to go. I opted for the broccoflower, as you can see, instead of cauliflower because I wanted to and it was on sale.

Who can resist a whole fish? I don't know when certain fish are in season. And I don't know which fish are the best to get when they aren't local. These are bass, but they are from Taiwan. I paused before I got them, but went ahead noting that they were fresh, blah blah. I got them at Uwajimaya, of course, and I have decided that I will only shop there on Tuesday mornings and with Sam. I have mentioned before that Tuesday is their senior discount day and Sam is an elderly person magnet. He has had members of the older set speaking to him in several languages on any given Tuesday at U. This is in contrast to the parking booth guy who thinks that Sam is ill because he is so blond and pale. I tried to explain Scandinavian coloring to this Ethiopian man, but something was lost in translation. "He sick? He so white." Yeah. It's natural, really. Anyway, this particular Tuesday was the best ever! We walk in to our usual smiles and waves in the produce section and at the butcher counter. And then! Fish counter! Bam! Asian Grandpa is there again and comes out to poke Sam and get in his face. Thank goodness this makes Sam laugh and not scream because Asian Grandpa then gives Sam an enormous lump of crabmeat! This is from the $24/lb. case. I hold it in front of Sam, as my mouth waters. AG then gives Mommy some, too. Sam poo-poos his and Mommy scores two chunks of sweet sweet crab. But AG doesn't stop there: "Does he like shrimp?"

Is this the chasm in toddler eating culture? Compare what Japanese two-year-olds eat to American. Let's say American kids who have a parent that cooks. I have a feeling they are eating fish and pickled things and slurping noodles. And then there's Sam. I make Sam his own meal because, in my experience, he doesn't eat what I make for Josh and me. I want him to eat something other than Cheerios. But, what if it's just a war of attrition that I am refusing to fight? What I mean is that if I serve him normal homemade, wholesome, tasty food every night and allow him to turn his nose up, will he eventually give in and eat his artisanal pizza instead of chicken nuggets? When will he say yes to coq au vin? I keep thinking that the magical age is two because that's when I go back to work and will only have time for one dinner that he and I will eat together at the table. I'll be damned if I'm going to make two different meals, do all the cleanup, wrestle a toddler into the bath, and then grade papers. No way.

So, anyway, the trip to U was awesome and Asian Grandpa told us to call him that, and the guy with the cross-eye yelled that AG was going to scare Sam, and it was all fun and games. I was so glad that I ordered whole fish because the quiet one took a while to scale and gut, thus leaving more time for all of that other stuff.

I pan sauteed the bass (after a dusting with flour) to get a nice crust on the skin (yummy), then stuffed them with garlic and parsley and lay them on a bed of fennel, red onion, tomatoes and oil-cured olives (I found the last jar at QFC - bring back the oil-cured olives!). It was good but really needed lemon to complete it. Maybe I'll do it again when Nana and Papa finally make it up.

Best Ever

It was not my intention to create personal bests, but I did. One was from a recipe, so I can hardly take credit. But the other, the other was from my mind and the simple and omnipresent need to use up leftovers.

Pasta salad. I didn't put this in the title because I didn't want to put people off. You say "pasta salad" and what comes to mind? A cucumber, a tomato, some black olives and a bottle of vinaigrette poured over soggy pasta. This is not that pasta salad. I already had a pasta salad recipe that I, and others, like, so I wasn't really looking, but I wanted to use up my sun-dried tomatoes and stumbled upon a way to do that. (I really want to create a complete index of all recipes and everything they use. There are so many times when I am searching for a way to finish off a couple tablespoons of this or that and just need some guidance.)

Pasta Salad:

Sauce: 1/2 cup sun-dried tomatoes (in oil, chopped and drained), 1 T capers (chopped and drained), 1/4 cup red wine vinegar, 1 garlic clove (minced), 4-6 T e.v. olive oil. Whir everything together in a food processor. Use 4 T evoo to start and check the consistency to see if you want more.

Salad: 1 lb. fusilli pasta, 12 oz. cherry/grape tomatoes, 8 oz. fresh mozzarella (ovoline), 1 cup fresh basil, 1 cup Parmesan, 1/2 cup oil-cured black olives (optional), 4-5 pepperoncini, 1-2 roasted red peppers. Cook the pasta within one minute of al dente in order to ensure that it won't get soggy. Let it cool for a couple of minutes after draining, and then throw it in with the dressing. Slice the tomatoes in half. Cut the mozz into bite-sized pieces. Chiffonade the basil and grate the Parm. Now, the rest of the ingredients are optional. I didn't have olives, so I threw in one jarred red pepper for the oiliness. I simply like pepperoncini, so I threw in a few of those, sliced, as well. Do what you like. Parsley might be nice.

Then, quite by accident, I created the best veggie burger. Earlier in the week I made fried rice and split peas that were both rejected. The rice was a surprise because it tasted good and Sam eats the fried rice I buy at Uwaj. The split peas, well, I foresaw rejection, but I thought I would give it shot. I ran into them in the back of the pantry and thought Hey I should use these. I recalled that the last burgers I made used lentils and bulgar and thought that my rejects were similar enough to work. So I dumped: (1.5 cups when dried) split peas cooked in chicken broth; 2 cups fried rice, complete with 1T soy sauce, some minced veggies, and a scrambled egg; 1/2 cup toasted cashews; 1/2 cup packed each cilantro and basil. I then took them for a spin in the processor, gradually pouring in canola oil until it held together. A few minutes on each side in a pan, and bam! best veggie burger ever.

Of course, if the parts were rejected, the whole - which was much more than the sum of said parts - would also be dismissed, right? Oh, I hoped, but was prepared to eat the burger if Sam didn't like it. He popped one of the pieces in his mouth and bit down. His jaw sort of froze as he winced and began ejecting the offensive material. He even used his fingers to wipe his tongue and flick tidbits off of his bib and jeans. Oh well. I can have them for lunch.

Skillet Penne

Josh wanted to know what exactly makes this dish a "skillet" penne. It's a pretty cool dish, actually, because everything happens in one skillet, including the pasta. I didn't have much hope for this dish because it calls for sun-dried tomatoes in oil. I don't always like those, but I went for it anyway, thinking we could order pizza if it was awful. But it was so good that it elicited another "restaurant quality" from Josh. It also elicited the dreaded question "This is totally healthy, right?" This is where one can play with language: "Why, yes, our servings were indeed healthy." Notice I did not say "healthful" because that would have been a fib. But "healthy" can speak to serving size, can't it. I did confess, in the end, that it's not so healthful.

Ingredients: 8oz. penne pasta (2.5 cups), 1/2 cup cream, 2.5 cups chicken broth, 1 lb. sausage (I like Italian chicken sausage), 6 oz. spinach (you can wilt fresh in the pan or use frozen added at the end), 1 minced med. onion, 3 minced garlic cloves, 1/2 cup sun-dried tomatoes (oil pressed out and chopped), 1/2 cup grated Parmesan.

Procedure: Saute the onion until translucent, then add garlic and stir in for 30 seconds. Add the sausage and brown. Scatter the tomatoes, penne, and stir. Pour in the liquids and bring to a boil over medium-high heat, then turn down to med-low and cover until the pasta is done. The instructions said 10 minutes, but pasta cooked in this manner seems to take longer than the package instructions say. I think mine took 15 minutes to reach al dente. If you are using fresh spinach, throw it in when the pasta has a couple more minutes. If using frozen, thaw and squeeze excess water out, then scatter over in the last minute of cooking, just to heat through. Remove from heat and sprinkle Parmesan all over.

We drank a Malbec with ours - nice.

Spinach and Gruyere!

Spinach and Gruyere Sauce, with Chicken, over Pasta


Jennie Foote, and old friend, gave me this recipe. That is, she and I became friends when we were wee lasses; she is not 84 years old. I believe it is an Anna Karmel recipe. She has baby cookbooks out there ... I think I have one. As you can tell from the bowl, it is another attempt to sneak vegetables into my son's stomach. Not so clandestine when the sauce is a glaring green. I have made sauces like this before: green something, plus cheese and garlic. Put it over pasta and voila! Sam likes them, so good to go. I thought this one would be a nice addition to the repertoire because it uses frozen spinach - a boon because I don't have to get that darn salad spinner out. That thing is impossible to clean! The lid takes three days to dry out. Why would you make a lid that water and detritus can get into, but your sponge can't; as in, you can't take it apart to clean it. It's like my refrigerator.



The sauce goes something like this: saute frozen spinach - which I did (half a bag) with a shallot and a garlic clove; grate gruyere over and stir around until it melts. I probably put about 1/3 cup in. Put all into a food processor, add some milk so you can blend it, done. I added 1/4 cup of ricotta because I had it on hand and wanted to use it. I thought it was a wonderful sauce and the pasta was nice with the chicken, too. Unfortunately, Sam preferred to eat it like this. Note the complete lack of sauce. Yes, Mommy, I'll take an order of that balanced dinner you worked on. Please subtract the balance. Thanks.

I don't know about the rest of you, but when a meal doesn't work out, for whatever reason, I often shed tears over it and rail against the gods. This time, I was so hungry that I settled for eating the rejected meal. The key to meal time sanity is to be hungry when you serve your child! You don't want it? Fine. Mommy will eat it. Here are your Cheerios. I froze the rest of the sauce hoping that one day I can put it on pasta for a changed Sam or perhaps another, more grateful, future child.

Restaurant Quality

Rigatoni with Spicy Sausage and Arugula

That is what Josh said about this pasta: "Restaurant Quality." It is one of Mark Sorenson's and it was, as mentioned, very good. A lot of it had to do with the sausage: Isnernio's. I have had the hot Italian pork and the Italian chicken, and they are both delicious. The spice blend is such that your dish really needs nothing for flavor other than the sausage. Fennel seed is another one of those secret ingredients, I think.

So, you brown your sausage in a little olive oil, take it out and saute your onion and garlic, then pour some dry red wine and let it boil away a bit. Throw in your crushed tomatoes and put the sausage back. Simmer for 30 minutes, then add the arugula, basil and oregano to wilt.

The herbs go in at the end and add a lovely freshness. Why, yes! Thank you for noticing! I did chiffonade the basil. I did not do the same for the oregano - too small. Speaking of which, one should always watch her step with fresh oregano because it packs quite a punch. A heavy hand with that stuff is not desirable. And don't even get me started on marjoram. Wooeee.

Did you know that "chiffonade" means "made of rags"?

Funny, if you have ever seen Mario Batali's show on the food network, he generally disdains anything French. So, when many recipes would tell you to chiffonade, he says to break the basil up roughly, with your fingers, and (paraphrasing) "there's no need to make it look French."

Lamb Ragu

Dear La Spiga,

This is a ragu. Allow me to define: a thick, full-bodied meat sauce. I should have trusted my gut and not ordered your "mushroom ragu," but mushrooms can be meaty and, certainly, in a restaurant with a good reputation, I expected a meaty, hearty mushroom ragu. Melted butter does not a ragu make. Also, cayenne powder is not an acceptable garnish, especially when it will mix itself into the dish and alter the flavor for the worse ... which was hard to do, but you figured out how. Indeed, to say your dish was nothing special would be an affront to purveyors of Nothing Special the world over. It was a Mess. It was Terrible.

Nonetheless, I would like to thank you. The horrendous culinary experience at your establishment inspired me to join Yelp! and I now have another outlet for writing about food, etc. I also have an online community which writes about food, etc.

So, simultaneously: You suck AND thanks.

Sincerely,

Jen S.

These are the lamb shanks of which I spoke - post-browning. So the shank is the leg, naturally. Since these are wee legs, this was a wee lamb. I discovered, upon looking up "lamb" in a couple of my cookbooks, that Americans are not fond of said cute mammal. We eat a mere 1.5 lbs. of it per person, per annum. Hm. What is the beef poundage, you ask? I dunno. I'll guess 50lbs. The Greeks, Irish, Icelanders, Australians and New Zealanders take their sheep much more seriously. I love it, myself.

So I got my lamb shanks at Uwajimaya. There was a bloody fingerprint on the packaging. Butchering hazard, I suppose. The recipe says to brown your shanks on all sides, then remove them in order to saute your aromatics. Such aromatics in this guy, too! Onion, garlic, mushrooms, crushed red pepper, fresh basil and thyme (it was rosemary, but I have thyme, so I substituted). Wow, that basil filled the air with its sweet green scent - fabulous. That's when you know you are doing a good thing. When everything is sauteed, in goes some wine to reduce, then the lamb and the rest of the liquids: beef broth and a can of tomatoes. Into the 325 oven for 1.5 hours.

I love recipes like this. With Mark Sorenson's Recipes there are a lot of stews and such, so I am getting good at the methodology. Provided you start early enough in the evening, you can have a prodigious, meaty feast on the table every night. Sam even seems to like them. He didn't sample the lamb, but he likes the chicken stews.

I would like to introduce you to my mini-chopper. I saw Michael Chiarello using one on his show. At least once every few episodes, he comments about how we cannot make fun of his chopper because his nonna used one, and it works well, so there. So I bought one. It makes a heck of a lot of noise, and I have to run through the pile of onions once with my knife because there are always a few big chunks left, but it does make quick work of onions and garlic. And we know how much chopping onions and garlic are my least favorite tasks in the kitchen. So, a mini-chopper - don't be ashamed to get one for yourself!

The finished product! I know, I know; I garnished! I do it for you!

After the lamb is done, you remove it from the liquid to let it cool a bit. Then you take it off the bone and return it to the sauce. Serve over pasta. I should have served it over rigatoni, or some other large, tubular pasta. (Any other Californians out there hear "totally tubular" in a great surfer argot upon seeing that word?) The idea is that the ragu dances in and out of the shapes. But I have spaghetti (whole wheat), so spaghetti it was.

Did I say it was delicious? It was delectable! Meat, mushrooms, tomatoes, herbs, beef broth - what's not to like?

Linguine with Crab and Peppers

I know. I know. This is fettuccine, not linguine. It was either that or spaghetti, which would have been a major pasta foul. I had my doubts about this dish, but I love crab, and all the other ingredients, so why wouldn't they work well together? This recipe calls for that one ingredient that comes up on occasion - that one thing that makes you go, "Oh yeah ... that." I like that. That always works well in sauces and soups. That could even be a secret ingredient! Like anchovies or Worcestershire sauce. Clam juice! That's right, I said it. So, you undercook the pasta, throw it in with the peppers and garlic (that cooked in butter!), and add clam juice and a bit of pasta water to finish. Awesome. Oh yeah, wine too. Sprinkle on some parsley, pine nuts and Parmesan (you save the P items for last), and you are ready to eat.

Oh yeah, I hecka used canned crab (sorry Dad). I am all for laboring over a real crab, and I do get the flavor difference, but on a weeknight? With Junior at my feet and blogging to do? No. We still picked a bit of shell out of our teeth, so the authenticity was totally there.

There's one big BUT with this dish. I keep pushing the envelope on this lesson that I have learned repeatedly, thinking Oh, no, not this time. Not with this fish. This one is different. When will I truly learn that Fish is NOT a Good Choice for Leftovers?! Sam won't even eat his breaded tilapia if it's from the day before. You can see it in his eyes: the recognition that the not-so-crunchy crunch is because it has been reheated. Noooooo. So, don't go for leftover crab. It didn't smell as bad as the trout, but still unpleasant.

Speaking of the trout, I just revisited it as I was cleaning the sink! What? The metal, or maybe the growth that was already in the sink (gross), absorbed the scent from almost a week ago, and then released it when I was scrubbing with Bon Ami. Yum.

I had to make something to go with the linguine as a veggie - a few strips of pepper do not a serving make. I wilted some kale and threw on the vinaigrette and gorgonzola from the Winter Salad we had with the Morgans. I remembered the candied nuts after I took the photo, but before digging in. Close one.

I love greens, don't you? And they are so good for you, so that's a bonus. I find kale to be the most palatable. Oh, chard too. Sorry, chard; you are the prettiest. Have you had dino kale? I think it goes by a few different names, but it looks like a green reptile purse or something. It's delicious as well. Purple kale, too. I have tried beet, mustard, turnip, and dandelion greens - that is ascending bitterness order there - and they all have their place, for sure, but that place should be in a sauce or among pork pieces of some sort. And, the mother of greens, collards! This is one tough, f'ing green. You want to eat the stems without at least an hour of cooking? Good luck. It's winter hardy, and it shows. I think I always serve collards cooked in bacon fat and chicken stock, with bacon sprinkled on at the end. I have never cooked the stems, and I don't intend to.