Calmly showing the way….

This morning I was all fired up, and thought to myself, today is the day I write a ranting, politically-driven post on the blog. I’ve never done it before. Typically I just chat about food and crafts, sometimes the cat–never ever politics, and only angrily if I cut myself peeling something. But I’d been listening to the news on the way in and some people just make me reallllly annoyed.

Instead, I’m going to leave all that behind. This is not the place for that, and I might lose all five of you readers if I were to go on and on. So instead I’m pointing you to Mr. Pea’s blog, which today features a recipe. We’ve been making a lot of repeat recipes this week–some pretty standard comfort food by anyone’s definition–things like mac and cheese (I think I never posted this, now that I’m looking! Holy cow! Will fill you in later) and our favorite potato, spinach and ham casserole. When we made the latter last night we had far too many potatoes the mister had sliced with the mandolin. We stuck ‘em in the fridge with the intention of a morning fry-up. But then we forgot, and Mr. Pea instead made microwave potato chips! This was a recipe that was all over the internet last year sometime that I’d always meant to try. As I mentioned it on my way out the door this morning, we were both skeptical that the microwave could produce anything crispy and delightful. We were both wrong, however! So mosey on over and take a look.

Eating for less: Thirty a Week

I thought I’d pass this along–Thirty a Week is the blog of a couple in Brooklyn, NY, trying to eat the majority of their meals every week on a food budget of only $30. These folks have some serious discipline, but I think most of our weeks run between $30-$40 for the two of us for 5 planned dinners and usually leftover lunches the next day. We eat in typically 6 nights a week, eating one out, and sometimes mooching off others (dinner parties, family, etc.). These guys don’t count things like toilet paper as part of their $30, so that surely helps. I spent $38 and change the other day at the market for four meals (I had to get a rain check for the chicken I’d planned to buy), but this included $5 of TP and some other incidentals.

Do you try to shop frugally? Are there some things you just *have* to have regardless of cost? For me it’s high-quality coffee, though for the sake of competition (with myself, mostly), maybe I’ll start thinking a little more cheaply there, too. I just like the idea of buying fair trade and $7 for a pound of organic, fair trade coffee at Trader Joe’s isn’t so bad. But at the rate I drink it…

Anyway, I’d love to hear your thoughts.

Rice Noodles with Peanut Sauce

Fitness magazine ran a piece this month on cooking healthfully and with a budget in mind. Each dish they made totaled all of $3 or $4 a serving, and usually yielded four servings. Some of the recipes sounded good; some sounded crazy; some sounded like they were shopping at the world’s cheapest grocery store. This recipe is a modification of one they had that called for half as much tofu and twice as many peppers. It’s still pretty inexpensive–I hate spending lots of money on dinner, it’s a thing with me–and really yummy. And indeed, it yielded four servings. It might have been less than $2.37/each, matching Fitness’ estimate, as I had a bunch of this stuff on hand (though how much 2T of brown sugar costs would take some sorting out) and peppers were on sale very inexpensively last week. $2.50 peppers + $2.50 tofu + half-package noodles=$5.75.

The first difference between their recipe and mine was that I used rice noodles instead of linguine. I thought I had linguine but it turned out I was wrong; I did, however, have a package of extra-wide rice noodles from my last trip to A Dong Asian market. Seriously, that’s what it’s called. Go read Mr. Pea’s post about it if you don’t believe me. Rice noodles of this size are easy to work with and suited this recipe quite well.

I also overhauled the sauce recipe based on what I had on hand. We were out of hoisin but had oyster sauce, and I added brown sugar to compensate for sweetness. I also have learned that you can’t simply stir a peanut sauce together, especially if you’re using all-natural peanut butter. It lacks the stabilizers that make Skippy or Jiff really creamy. You need to use some heat to get it to work.

Anyway, here’s how it goes:
Begin by draining 1 block of extra-firm tofu

Mix your sauce:
6 T natural peanut butter
6 T oyster sauce
2 T or so brown sugar (taste test it as you go. I don’t like it very sweet)
1 T soy sauce
2 T rice vinegar
a few T hot water (try stirring, see if it loosens up some)
and then nuke it for 30-60 seconds, stirring to get it to smooth out

Then:
slice a red pepper and green pepper thinly
grate a couple of carrots so you have 1 c of shreds

and cook your noodles. Rice noodles are supposed to soak an hour or so, but I cheated and boiled them for 7 minutes until just underdone. When they are just about ready (so they have two minutes left), add peppers. With one minute left, ad carrots and tofu. Drain altogether. This gently cooks your veggie just a little so they have a good deal of crispness left but aren’t so sharp. Peppers to me sometimes have a hard edge–kind of a tang, I guess–and this helps alleviate it.

Mix everything together. Yum!

Darn it.

Tonight I made granola. I tried to make granola. But our oven temp is wonky, and I was adapting a recipe I’d never made before, and I forgot and added the fruit before baking rather than after, and even though it was in there for only 3/4 of the time the recipe called for, the granola over-cooked and now has a ‘browned’ smoky flavor. What a waste of 2 1/2 cups of oats and almost a cup of pecans. I also didn’t add enough honey, I don’t think, as the granola doesn’t have any crunch. Except of course for the currants, which are like tiny coals. Dammit. Tonight’s lesson: Always read the directions ALL THE WAY THROUGH. Extra bonus lesson: learn to like toasted granola, as there’s plenty of it.

Musings on Place

This is a shot of the town where I grew up, a little hamlet called Holland, in Massachusetts, as seen through the windshield the other day. We moved there when I was 8, and I hated it. It was in the woods–I couldn’t see my friends–and Jem wouldn’t come in for me to watch in the afternoon. Over time it grew on me enough to tolerate it, and as soon as I could, I moved away. I moved to South Hadley, another rural area for college but one that was at least just a few miles away from bustling Northampton. Then I moved to Boston. I loved it there. Lots to do, always someplace to go, even if the weather was bad. You could walk to things. It made me happy.

But even over time there the city began to feel rather stressful to me. We lived near a lot of trees and parks and had a nice yard, all of which helped, but it still felt rather close. Then we moved to Connecticut, to a small, fairly dense suburb. We have less space here in many ways than we did in Boston; our neighbors are right on top of us. Partly this is because we live in a three-decker in the densest part of town, but even many of the single-family home neighborhoods are quite thick with houses. And we seem to have landed in a particular place–a sort of vortex of annoyance, on some days. Now I’m telling you this after the THIRD night of waking up at an early hour (ie, 2 am) because the guy upstairs came home then and doesn’t take off his shoes. Old houses=creaky floors, on top of his stomping. And the next-door neighbors are a special kind of…special…who let their teenagers hang out shouting on the porch until 3 or 4 in the morning on occasion. It’s special. There’s also a traffic light (we live on a corner) which, when it’s red, seems to be besieged by people whose radios are cranked so loudly you can hear the metal of their cars shake. This is especially awesome when it’s warm and our windows–and theirs–are open.

It might not surprise you, then, that despite our proximity to a movie theater and the biggest Whole Foods I’ve ever seen (just over a mile away, in walking distance), I find my thoughts turn to my old hometown.

I don’t want to live there in particular, mind you. It’s just that the idea of quiet, of space–we could put in a stellar garden if we lived in a rural area–and perhaps even of neighborliness sounds really appealing. Maybe I don’t need a slew of restaurants a half mile away; maybe I only need one grocery store, and maybe I can get the hang of doing all my errands in one trip. Maybe what I really need is to hear myself think and sleep through the night, to putter in the yard and plant my own vegetables. Cities surely have their perks, but I, for one, don’t seem to want them so much anymore.

Sweet Potato and Sausage Hash

Some time ago I bought some of Stoney Brook Farms’ Italian turkey sausage for a tomato sauce. We used only a few, cooked them up, and were taken aback by the flavor–they seemed somewhere halfway between an Italian sausage (lots of fennel) and a breakfast sausage (lots of sage). We stuck the last four in some plastic wrap and popped them in the freezer, where they remained.

Last night I gave a couple of huge sweet potatoes a rough chop and stuck them in the microwave as a side for some pork chops. There was far too much potato for the two of us, though, and I put the rest in the fridge. Mr. Pea, however, had the genius idea of combining the turkey sausage with the potatoes for some kind of hash this morning, and were we ever glad we did.

We began with a big skillet in which we melted 1 1/2 T of butter. To that I added 2/3 of an onion, chopped, and got it started with a little salt. When they’d just started to soften, I squeezed the sausage out of their casings and broke up the sausage itself, stirring with the onions, over a medium heat. While this cooked down, Mr. Pea chopped the potatoes into 1/2″ dice and I added these to the pan. For 6 or 7 minutes we let them cook and tossed them around; then, after adding some salt and pepper, Mr. Pea gave them a rough mash just to break a few up, and pressed them into the pan to brown.

To top this off, we fried two eggs, and placed each one on top of a nice pile of hash. Oh, so yummy. We easily could have fed four people if we’d made some toast, but we had enough for about three people. Three hungry people. Give it a try!

Sweet Pea, rock star

Right now, instead of working, I’m stalking copies of Guitar Hero II for my PS2. Several years ago Ben, in a fit of craziness and generosity, gave me the gaming system and i lost a whole semester to Grand Theft Auto. These days, though, I love guitar hero. Love it. Both Mr. Pea’s parents and my own gave it to me, and our friend Mark gave us a second guitar so we can play together. Last week I beat the easy level on Guitar Hero III. I’m working on medium, which is really difficult. I can’t even imagine getting anywhere in hard or expert levels, and that’s why I’m prowling ebay for deals on Guitar Hero II. It has Sweet Child o’ Mine! Yeah! And Shout at the Devil! I’m having hair band flashbacks (they seem to be everywhere these days–I asked Mr. Pea if he thought hair rock is the new ‘classic rock’), and really want to start jamming away. As you can see, I’m very fashionable when I do so.

Now you know why I haven’t posted in a couple of days. Don’t worry, I’m going to catch up.

Pea Soup, behind bars.

I made Mr. Pea, appropriately, some pea soup a couple of weeks ago. I’d frozen the bone from our Christmas ham with the intention of making this, and he asked me to use his mom’s recipe. A couple weeks later, here we were, with soup. Lots and lots of soup. I hate pea soup, so it’s on him to eat it all. I ended up freezing a lot of it, using a freezer bag for some of it. I’d read in a few places that freezer bags were great for soups and sauces, as you can lie them flat in the freezer. And I did. On the rack. And there, before it froze, it molded to the rack, and then became quite solid there. Now it’s on the counter, rack included, to thaw! Whoops. Lesson learned for next time.

Mr. Pea swears this is a fantastic soup, so I’m passing on the recipe to you.

1 onion, chopped
1 pound sack whole yellow peas, or split peas, if you can’t find whole peas
ham hock/ham bone
2 quarts of water plus more for later
1 can hominy, drained

Toss onion, peas, bone, and water into a pot. Bring to a simmer and simmer for two to three hours, replenishing water as needed (at least another quart or so) until the peas have gotten mushy and whatever meat’s on the bone is pretty much falling off. Once you get to that point, add your can of hominy. It took me three stores to find that stuff. Stir in. Chop up any big pieces of meat and add back to pot. Serve hot. It’ll thicken considerably when cool but thins back out some when warmed up.

Once the bag loosens from the rack, I’m making some tomato soup for me and grilled cheese sandwiches for both of us. It’s a big day in the country with the inauguration, and though I’ve been feeling moody and mopey (I’m not sure why, but it’s just the case this week!) despite it, I’m trying to take hope in it and warm up my center with some tasty soup-and-cheese goodness.

Donut Muffins cure what ails you

I think we all know how I am given to hyperbole every now and again, but this time I’m serious. YOU MUST MAKE THESE MUFFINS. They are heaven! Ridiculous! They’ll put your average cake donut to SHAME! And those Little Debby Donut Sticks you (I) ate as a child? PFFFFT! They cannot, by any stretch of the imagine, compare. The recipe’s not mine, but I’ll take credit if YOU make these and enjoy them. Just say “It was Jen’s idea!” I’ll be thrilled.

Anyway, a little backstory. Today I woke up tired and grumpy. For whatever reason, even though I went to bed well after twelve, my internal clock thought it’d be hilarious to wake me up at 6:43. Awesome. And then my external clock (cat) began to meow about 7 am, as he wanted his morning treats. Pest. So I woke up cranky and crabby and have spent the day fighting it off. Usually when this happens, I head to the kitchen to cook. Today was no exception. I even made us a big Sunday lunch featuring a tiny spoon roast, DIY rice-a-roni, and some tasty garlicky spinach. But I had this craving–the soul-gnawing kind–for something warm, sweet, and cakey. A little google searching for donut muffins provided me with an answer.

My version of these little scrumptious morsels is a slightly modified version of one on the hilariously named blog “Bake and Destroy.” They’re quick and easy to make and even quicker and easier to eat.

You’ll need:
1/2 c sugar
1/3 c canola oil
1 egg
1/4 t nutmeg
2 t baking powder
1/2 t salt
1 1/2 c flour
1/2 c milk

1/2 c sugar
2 t cinnamon
2 T butter, melted

Begin by creaming oil, sugar, and egg together. Then mix dry ingredients and alternate pouring them into the whirring mixer with the milk. Grease a muffin tin (no paper cups) and fill them halfway with batter. They’ll rise a lot in the oven, so don’t worry about it. I got 10 out of my batch. I fill the other two cups with a little water. I don’t know why, but my mom told me to do it when I was a kid, so I’m just passing that along to you.

Bake in a 350 degree oven for 20 minutes. Take them out and carefully pop them out of the tin (I used a toothpick to loosen the edges and flip them on their sides). Mix cinnamon and sugar. Carefully dip each muffin in melted butter and roll in the sugar mix. The original recipe has you rolling the whole thing in there; I dipped tops and bottoms on a couple of them, but really, the top gives you just enough buttery sweetness without overpowering the delicate crumb of the muffin. HEAVEN. You have to eat one right away for quality control, just so you know. Then you can make a cup of coffee and have another, as you’d originally planned

Scratching my head: what mistake did I make with this bread?

This was supposed to be a sandwich loaf. Sandwich loaves, however, are typically more than an inch and a half tall. I guess I could make finger sandwiches, though, and call it a day. But instead I think I’ll use this opportunity to ruminate on what might have happened here. This little tiny loaf, incidentally, tastes amazing, so at least it has that going for it.

This loaf was made from a modified recipe from Artisan Bread in 5 Minutes a Day. Instead of using all wheat flour, as the recipe called for, I swapped in half regular, all-purpose flour. Whole wheat flour has very little gluten and thus, sometimes, very little rise. In theory, then, this should have certainly risen some more than it did, since I only used half of the wheat flour.

Artisan Bread’s recipes all use a very wet dough. It’s the wetness of the dough that allows it to sit in the fridge for up to two weeks, as the water continually feeds on the yeast, causing it to grow. This loaf was made with dough I put together this morning; it was exceptionally wet. The directions called for shaping the dough into a ball; that certainly didn’t happen, as this stuff was very, very sticky and un-shapable. I ended up just glopping it into a loaf pan. That could have been part of my problem–maybe it needed a little more flour, a little more shapliness. That’s how the peasant loaves I’ve made have been–I could sorta shape them into a ball by draping them in flour, as the recipes called for. This one called for shaping with wet hands which only seemed to make the problem worse. Hmm.

The recipe also called for me to slash the top of the loaf before baking. I had my knife ready, and then forgot, as I was making grilled cheese sandwiches at the same time. This might be our biggest culprit–perhaps the top had nowhere to go. I didn’t have any plastic wrap to cover the dough with during rising time, using instead a barely damp towel. As such, it dried out some. The combination of that dryness plus a lack of a slash might have led to the lack of oven rise here.

It’s also possible that my yeast is wearing out. I bought a 2-pound bag of yeast a long while ago (May 2007); I thought it could store more or less forever in the freezer, but maybe I’m wrong there.

The bread tastes fantastic, however, and has a great crust. I think I might just slice it lengthwise and make sandwiches that way. We’ll get far fewer slices, but they’ll be tall enough for a slice of cheese, and really, that’s what matters. There is enough dough to supposedly make two more loaves in the fridge. I may dump it all into one and hope for the best; if it won’t be tall from rising, at least it’ll be tall from volume!