Pizza and Soup

I used the Peasant Loaf base to make pizza. Since the dough had been in the fridge for several days, it was taking on a sourdough quality. It lent a strange flavor to the pizza, I thought. Josh liked it more than I did. It was definitely a tasty crust - really fluffy and chewy, yet light. Josh never eats his crusts from take-out pizzas but he said that this was a crust that deserved to be eaten. That's a good thing. I topped it with some mushrooms, sun-dried tomatoes, artichoke hearts, and homemade pesto. Pesto really deteriorates after a couple of days in the fridge. And the verdure is gone in a matter of minutes. I have heard that you can blanch the basil and that keeps the green color, but I have yet to try this out. Who wants to get out a pot, wait for it to boil, uhhhhh. Too many steps.

I am loving this bread book. I am about to try a baguette! If you have ever made one the traditional way, as I have, it's tough. In fact, I didn't even finish my loaf because I messed up the first proofing step. I consider myself a baguette connoisseur. Well, that's too strong. Maybe I am a demi-connoisseur... or a pseudo-connoisseur. Anyway, I have strong opinions about my bread, and I really hope I can make this work.

This soup looks weird and sounds weirder, but is so good! You simply must make it! Chilled Watercress Soup with hard-boiled egg. No way, you're thinking. Not for me. Oh, yes it is.

Watercress Soup:

2T unsalted butter

3 medium leeks, white and light greens parts, washed and sliced

1 medium potato (Russet, or other non-waxy potato, about 8 oz.), peeled and cut into 1/2-inch dice

3 cups chicken broth (or more)

2 bunches watercress leaves and some stems are fine too

1 generous cup baby spinach

salt and pepper to taste

fresh lemon juice

hard-boiled eggs

Melt the butter in a medium pot over medium heat. Add the potato and leeks and sweat until softened, about 5 minutes. Add broth and bring to a boil. Reduce heat to simmer, cover and cook until veggies are tender, 10-12 minutes. Add greens and stir to wilt, about 1 minute. Puree in a blender, or a food processor, or with a stick blender, or however you can. Add salt and pepper and lemon juice, to taste. We ate the soup warm with egg, but it is "supposed" to be chilled. Do as you wish, but, for goodness's sake, do!

Civilized Lunch

I told you about the book I was reading: French Women Don't Get Fat. It changed my thinking about food and meals, so much that I bought the French Women Don't Get Fat Cookbook in order to complete my transformation.

One of the things Guiliano notes is that French women sit down to lunch. You eat several courses - small courses - sometimes with a glass of wine; you take time to enjoy this food. So I really want lunch to be a meal - something good, balanced - something that makes me feel nourished and not looking to snack 10 minutes after I am through. I have been eating a salmon burger and salad - great, but I am "hungry" not long after I finish.

So this past week I decided to make a frittata - leek and smoked salmon with some cheese melted on top - and a vegetable soup.

The soup is like a minestrone and was easily the best vegetable soup I have ever had. I made it from my newish Lydia Bastianich cookbook. And, yes, I did have a wee glass of wine with my lunch. When Sam goes down for a late nap and I know I am not going anywhere in the afternoon, I go ahead with my little tipple, thank you.

It's most civilized and I highly recommend it.

Recipes can take a while to type because I am slow. If you want the soup recipe, let me know and I will gladly type it out for you, dear readers.

Josh Ruins Easter

I tried to throw Josh a surprise birthday party last year, mere weeks before we moved. I had clandestinely prepared a few things on Friday, and hid them in the back of the fridge. Saturday, the day of the party, I told him I wanted to get a jump on dinner because I didn't want to eat really late, so I prepared a couple other things before we went to a baby birthday party in the early afternoon. Everything was fine, then about two hours before people were going to show up, Josh says he feels ill. Like he is going to barf, ill. Are you sure? I ask him over and over, for 30 minutes. So I tell him about the party - is he still sure? Yes. So we called it off.

Flash forward almost one year to Easter 2010. There are to be eight adults and two kids for Easter dinner. I have been running errands and prepping and cleaning. All week. It's Saturday afternoon and Josh is trying to put up some pictures because we still have nothing on our walls. Suddenly, he's in the bathroom. For a long time. Because. He. Feels. Ill. Like going to barf, ill. What? I waited 20 minutes to confirm, then called off dinner.

Josh: Even though this is no one's fault, I still feel bad.

Me: No one's fault? Hm. Interesting.

I'm kidding! Of course I didn't blame the poor guy for getting sick. Even though he more than insinuated that I tried to poison him. I felt bad for him. And yet. Despite myself, I felt a bit miffed. I mean, I was working all week. I love preparing menus and then executing. Afterwards, I go over my menu, the timeline, and the dishes to see what went well and what I need to work on. It's a whole physical and psychological preparation, execution, and evaluation. I believe I can feel sympathy and ever-so-slight irritation (that I aim at the universe, not my husband) simultaneously.

Oh yeah, I also thought a lot about Jesus. Because it was Easter.

So this week I will be showing you dishes that were supposed to, in one form or another, grace our Easter table.

Today, unfortunately, I cannot show you anything other than something quite old because my stupid iPhoto cannot seem to upload anything new and I would love to waterboard it. So this old dish was the soup that we salvaged from the disgusting stew - remember the Dave Lieberman one where the potatoes, green beans, et. al., fell apart and tasted like refuse? Yeah, that one. This soup did not taste like garbage, though, because we added a bunch of pepper, caramelized onions, and bacon! Saved!

Reclaiming my kitchen

"Our kitchen," Josh would say.

This is what we say, don't we? We married women. As in, "Get your shoes off my couch," and, "She had the nerve to come into my house and treat me that way!" We know that these are shared things, but saying "our" in certain situations takes the power out of the statements.

So, you may have been doing the math. I was gone for THREE weeks, with Sam, to California. That's a long time to leave a man alone ... with a cat ... in my house. So what was it like? No, no, not the trip. What was the house like? You know you want to know. What state of disrepair, what kind of chaos did I encounter? What did the kitchen look like?

First, there were NO eggs. Who doesn't have at least one egg in the house? Sure, there was one carton of egg whites - that I bought before I left so that Josh had a supply - but no real eggs. Second, NO milk. Oh, I exaggerate. There was about 1/4 cup of skim milk. Uhhhhh, Sam is 19 months and drinks full-fat ... daily. Maybe you would want to have some on hand since we got home in the afternoon and he would presumably go right down for a nap after having some milk? No? Third, there was a lot of laundry. A lot. Like three weeks' worth. That I am doing today.

Fourth, and maybe the best, was that the garbage was really full. I mean, oddly full, since only one person was here. NO! He didn't! I hear you, dear friends. But he did! He forgot to take it out to the curb on garbage day! In his defense, there were three garbage days and I think he only neglected the can on one of those days. I think.... That was a lot of garbage, though ....

The good news: We have a new fan in the bathroom - one that works and doesn't sound like a lawnmower. AND, the furniture in the rumpus room is arranged in a new way that works much better than the old way. AND, the house is generally clean. He even did a load of kitchen towels that were folded and waiting to be put away. (Because I know where they go.)

I can forgive the trespasses, even the grocery oversights. Really, he just shopped in that way that men do ... you know, for things they need like undershirts, protein bars, and tangerines. He can't be bothered with staples or things that would be useful to have when one gets home with a baby. He also can't be bothered to replace things he used almost all of, like perhaps the diced tomatoes that I assumed were still there for my use in Sunday night's dinner. (Lentil and rice soup with Isernio's sausage and kale)

I blame myself. I was out of practice. Out of the anticipating practice. You know, as a wife who does the shopping, you read between the lines and get things and know things. In hindsight I knew that the diced tomatoes were gone because he told me that he made chili and stew. That positively screams at me to check on my spice, bean, and canned tomato supply.

To Josh's credit, he ran out to the store (after I yelled "You can't just use all of something and not replace it!") and bought canned tomatoes.

So it sent me pondering, this episode. The chores have become divided, and the more years that pass, the more specialized Josh and I become at our work. For example, Josh is all about the installation and maintenance and understanding of electronics. If I were a single gal in my own house (wait, it is my house), I would need to do this all myself. But I remain blissfully ignorant because I can be. My specialty is the store run because I plan the meals and I know what Sam and I need for our meals at home during the day. In other words, I know what we need. Josh will volunteer to go, but it's really more than the list, isn't it? You have to be ready to bob and weave when life throws you curve balls like no Arctic char. To send him means that I have to go through the list and be really specific. Also, there is the whole Inspired Shopping element. You know, you are going down the list when you spot *gasp*chocolate covered almonds and you think, Yes, I need those this week. What will I miss out on if Josh goes to the store? There are lots of psychological layers to this shopping thing, is what I'm saying.

I think a therapist would have a field day with his stuff.

Split Pea

I added a few photos before we left Seattle and saved them so that I could show you what I have been making! That's how much I care.
In order to make this soup - Split Pea - I had to get smoked ham shanks. Of course, Uwajimaya has them ... because they have everything under the sun, in terms of meat cuts, as I have previously discussed. Wait. I could not find bone-in, skin-on chicken breasts when I was looking for them. In truth, I didn't ask. I bet, had I asked, I could have witnessed them killing, defeathering, and fabricating a chicken right then and there. I didn't ask. I went to Safeway.





Split pea is quite easy and quick. I don't have the recipe in front of me, but it goes something like this: saute a mire poix (2:1:1 - onion, celery, carrot), add your herbs (dried marjoram, here), split peas (a bag) and your liquid of choice. I used half chicken broth and half water, and just filled it until it looked good. Nestle the pork in, bring up to a bubble, then let simmer for 30 minutes. The peas should be nice and tender; some will be falling apart. Remove the pork to cool, and take a stick blender to the split peas, et. al. I blended the whole thing because that is how I like my soup, but you can leave it chunky. Cut the pork up, or shred it, or whatever, and add it back. Voila! Smoky, delicious goodness.


I did not tidy the bowl for this shot. The problem with a food blog is that I am often taking snapshots of dinner ... at 8pm ... when Josh and I are ravenous. So I don't have the patience to set myself up for the beauty shots. When you have a toddler you are faced with a unique conundrum: Do we eat with the child or after the child goes to bed? Each option has its challenges. Jacques Pepin once said that he never made "special meals" for his daughter. She ate what the adults were eating. This teaches children how to eat, that eating is social, what goes on at the table, and countless other things about culture and food and that you are not a god in this house and you have to eat what is in front of you, gosh darnit! And that's great. Compare that to my working memory of different meals for my siblings and I. I recall the classic tater tots, chicken nuggets, and carrot sticks. My mother swears that some nights we three children had three different meals, and then Mom and Dad sat down for theirs. It's possible. Sometimes Sam has what we have, but usually it is something unique because, and I have said this before, you are sitting there thinking that there is no way this tiny person has consumed enough calories to make it through the night and there is no way I am waking up at 3am because the kid is hungry. So, if he wants Cheerios, fine! Eating as a family is super and all, but that means Junior has to actually allow me a certain amount of time in the kitchen. Ha. It also means that Josh gets home at toddler dinner hour, i.e. 5:30 or 6pm. Double ha. So, Sam eats alone (read: while Mommy drinks) and Mommy and Daddy eat separately. The easiest. When Josh comes home I can either get cracking, or continue what I started in the kitchen in order to have dinner on the table when Josh walks out of Sam's bedroom around 7:45, having put the boy to sleep. The table being the coffee table, at which we sit cross-legged to watch what we TiVo. How was your day? Fine. Fine. What do we have on TiVo, pass the wine.


I made oven fries to go with the soup. I love this recipe.





Get yourself 3-4 russets and slice into wedges. Put the wedges into a bowl of hot water and let them soak for 20-30 minutes. This step is to leach out some of the starch, which enables these to become "fries" and not just wedged baked potatoes. Meanwhile, heat the oven to 475 and prepare your baking sheet with 3-4T peanut oil, 3/4 tsp. salt, and 1/4 tsp. pepper. Yes, you in fat sprinkle the pan with those seasonings. Drain and rinse the potatoes, then lay them out to dry. If you want to help the process along with paper towels, go right ahead. Toss the wedges with 1T peanut oil and then lay them out - in one layer and not too crowded! - on the sheet pan. Cover the pan with heavy duty foil and bake for five minutes. Oh, the rack should be on the lowest rung in the oven. Remove the foil, then bake for 15-20 minutes until golden. Flip the wedges, and bake for 7-15 more minutes until GBD. That's "golden-brown and delicious." I have tossed my fries with minced garlic, butter, and parsley at this point, and have enjoyed the results. I have also simply dipped them in ketchup or BBQ sauce.

Love Letter to Soup

To Soup, My Dearest:

I always want you nearest

In the winter time.

Your earthy elixir

Surely will fix 'er

Up when she's cold.

I like you with meat

Or a few peppers - sweet -

And always with garlic.

A handful of beans

Definitely means

You will be hearty.

A couple potatoes

To go with my tomatoes

Is synchronicity.

For the dregs: bread

Because the bowl surely led

Straight to this moment of sopping.

Let's talk about meat

My son didn't nap today. He's a good napper, and that leaves me time to do things - like this. And I get emotionally attached to the things that I want to do - like this. So when he doesn't nap, or when I have to drive him around so he sleeps, I don't get to do what I want ....


Fighting ... urge ... to ...


talk about staying at home with the boy....





Let's talk about that meat. Specifically, meatballs. I simply love making meatballs - patties of any sort, really. I don't know what it is. I used to detest getting my hands into anything. "Uhhhh! The dough is stickyyyyy!" Now I happily cast aside spoons, remove my rings, and cut back my fingernails in anticipation of making patties of any and every kind. I actually had my nails a bit too long for these particular meatballs and got some ground chuck under them. Gross. And, have you ever tried to get meat out of mille grain? Not easy.


But I just adore throwing in seasoning ... maybe some onion and garlic ... maybe a few breadcrumbs or, in this case, rice! Yes. Uncooked white rice went right into the balls and the little grains plumped right up in the cooking time in the soup. Genius!


How does one brown meatballs? The recipes always say to "brown all sides." I may misremember (bless you, GW) my geometry, but I'm pretty sure spheres don't have sides. I usually brown them as a sort of plump pyramid.


This recipe is from my father, although he doesn't know that I have it. I actually photocopied his recipe book. He has a binder with all of the recipes that he either made up or took from magazines or the newspaper. Lots of good ones. I have a similar binder of my own creation, as well as a copy of my dad's. So, as I said, one of his: Mexican Meatball Soup. What makes it Mexican, I suppose, is the seasoning: oregano and chili powder. Might be a stretch. A delicious stretch.


I guess the tomatoes, peppers, corn and zucchini (?) are all American ... and since the vast majority of the geographic area known as The Americas, especially the part that produced the aforementioned vegetables, once belonged to Spain ... and part of that then became Mexico, then that also makes it Mexican. Sure.

This particular ground beef came from our supply in the freezer. It is 1/4-steer's worth of meat, in fact. In the freezer, that is, not the meatballs. I got talking to a guy at a farmers market this summer and thought, "Well, shucks, grass-fed, free-roaming beef in WA? Family-run business? Sounds like a great reason to get a big ol' freezer and a quarter of a cow." It is so family run, in fact, that the dad is the cowboy and the sons are the cowboys-in-training. The mom runs the business end, usually manning the farmers market booth so she can chat up the clientele, as well as phoning, emailing, and keeping the records. Oh, and they are definitely country folk. When we showed up at the appointed time and place, with our coolers, to pick up our order, Amy (alone!) was working her way through a serpentine queue of customers, chatting up every single one as she crossed them off her handwritten in a spiral notebook list. I kid you not. It was somewhat quaint. But the city (suburban) girl in me just wanted to elbow my way through everyone and rearrange everything so as to make it efficient. Hey, I happily made friends in line for over an hour, but would I have liked a 5-minute drop-off on my doorstep instead? Perhaps.

What does 1/4 steer look like all packaged up and ready to go, you ask? I think the two boxes we got both weighed 30lbs. 40lbs.? One was all 1lb. tubes of ground chuck; the other was different cuts like sirloin, filet mignon, short ribs, etc. The ground chuck seems endless. And I haven't used nearly enough of the cuts - a couple steaks and some ribs. Besides, how many servings of beef should one have per week? This cow has eradicated my anemia, I must say.

I made the this soup with Sam running around my legs - quite an accomplishment. I usually have to wait for Josh to get home to finish, or heck!, even start dinner. It was nice to have it done when he got home so that we didn't have to eat at 9pm.

I had a different vision of being a stay-at-home mom. Uhhhh.

Fighting.

... fingers ... want to talk ...

about ... today

and lack of Me Time ....