I've been eating left over Thanksgiving for two days. Every meal. I ate some cold turkey for breakfast this morning. Just picked off a little piece before I bolted out the door before the Little Guy and The Boy woke up. I'm oddly okay with this.
Typically, I'm not down with leftovers. People are always saying, "Whatever-it-is is better the next day." And I think, "Not so much". I'm usually quite happy with my food the first day. Why did I put food on the plate that could have been better? Did I forget how to season? Seriously. I don't get it.
But this week? I'm happy. I pulled all of the turkey on the carcass, and I was happy to see that there was a ton of dark meat left. The Boy is a garbage disposal for left overs--which works out really well for me, by the by. He doesn't like the dark meat though, so I knew that meant there would be more for me.
I know that sounds selfish. I am a little bit selfish, unfortunately.
I'm not sure why I'm so happy about this. Maybe it's the four bottles of wine that were left over from the party on Saturday. And yes, they were all left open, so I've been having to drink them. We wouldn't want them to go bad. That's just crazy talk.
So, why am I disappointed even though I'm wine-and-turkey-happy? I'm disappointed that I haven't figured out the Red Thai soup. And, the fact that nobody's helped me means that either:
1) Nobody is reading, so nobody wants to give me any help.
2) Nobody cares about me or my needs.
3) I will fail at my mission.
I know that left overs and a Red Thai soup recipe have very little in common. But they do have one very important thing in common.
They are what I was thinking about after that second glass of wine.
Monday, November 21, 2011
Gobblers
My friends and I have a tradition. It's called Friends' Thanksgiving, and it started when I was a junior in college. We were going home for the Thanksgiving holiday, and we decided that this holiday was about spending time sharing food with the people you love. So, we invited all of our friends to the apartment. My roommates made various things that I can't remember right now; I made my first turkey.
Now, fourteen years later (I think that's right) I made my fourteenth Friends' Thanksgiving turkey. I've hosted that other, more widely known Thanksgiving at my house, too, so I'm guessing I'm up to about twenty turkeys total for large groups. I think for only being 34, that's pretty good.
For the past couple of years, I've gotten the this-is-the-best-turkey-ever complements. So, I feel some pressure to produce a good bird now. I wish I could take the credit for it, but it's really the most dummy-proof recipe ever.
1) Brine the bird the night before. This is not a hard step. I put it in a 5 gallon bucket that used to have spackle in it. We washed it out, and now it's affectionatly called the Brining Bucket. I put about a cup of kosher salt, 1/2 a cup of brown sugar, and some all spice and peppercorn berries into it. Bring the salt and brown sugar together in some hot water, the add the all spice and pepper corns. After, put that in the bucket, put the turkey in, and then cover the rest of the turkey with cold water. Put it in the fridge over night.
2) Take the turkey out of the brine and rinse it off to get all the all spice and pepper corn that will inevitably be stuck to it.
3) Put it in a turkey bag.
4) Rub about two tablespoons of butter under the skin, right on top of the breast. I don't worry about if it's in a big lump. It's butter. It will melt.
5) Stuff some apples and onions and herbs in the turkey butt. It will like it.
6) Now, here's the key (I think). Use a thermometer. Get rid of that pop-up thing. We've all heard of carry-over. Well, that pop-up thing pops when the bird is done. If you wait for it to pop up, well, carry over will bring your turkey to over done. Set the thermometer to go off at 161. I'm not sure why that one degree. It's a WWAD (what would alton do?) thing that I do.
7) Close up your bag and put it in a 350 degree oven.
Then, you wait. This is the hard part, because I never know how long it's going to take.
You can decide once your timer goes off if you want to brown it up. I tend not to because I don't think people NEED to be eating more turkey skin and I'm not into the whole unvailing presentation part of it. So, my turkey's ugly, but it tastes yummy.
Once it comes out, leave the darn thing alone for a while. I'm talking like thirty minutes at least. It's fricken huge; it's not going to get cold. Heat up your other stuff. Make your gravy. But, for the love of Alton, leave it alone!
That's it. Next year, I promise to take pictures and to make this a more...funny?...story. Here's the nitty gritty. Next year, we'll get into the fun.
Now, fourteen years later (I think that's right) I made my fourteenth Friends' Thanksgiving turkey. I've hosted that other, more widely known Thanksgiving at my house, too, so I'm guessing I'm up to about twenty turkeys total for large groups. I think for only being 34, that's pretty good.
For the past couple of years, I've gotten the this-is-the-best-turkey-ever complements. So, I feel some pressure to produce a good bird now. I wish I could take the credit for it, but it's really the most dummy-proof recipe ever.
1) Brine the bird the night before. This is not a hard step. I put it in a 5 gallon bucket that used to have spackle in it. We washed it out, and now it's affectionatly called the Brining Bucket. I put about a cup of kosher salt, 1/2 a cup of brown sugar, and some all spice and peppercorn berries into it. Bring the salt and brown sugar together in some hot water, the add the all spice and pepper corns. After, put that in the bucket, put the turkey in, and then cover the rest of the turkey with cold water. Put it in the fridge over night.
2) Take the turkey out of the brine and rinse it off to get all the all spice and pepper corn that will inevitably be stuck to it.
3) Put it in a turkey bag.
4) Rub about two tablespoons of butter under the skin, right on top of the breast. I don't worry about if it's in a big lump. It's butter. It will melt.
5) Stuff some apples and onions and herbs in the turkey butt. It will like it.
6) Now, here's the key (I think). Use a thermometer. Get rid of that pop-up thing. We've all heard of carry-over. Well, that pop-up thing pops when the bird is done. If you wait for it to pop up, well, carry over will bring your turkey to over done. Set the thermometer to go off at 161. I'm not sure why that one degree. It's a WWAD (what would alton do?) thing that I do.
7) Close up your bag and put it in a 350 degree oven.
Then, you wait. This is the hard part, because I never know how long it's going to take.
You can decide once your timer goes off if you want to brown it up. I tend not to because I don't think people NEED to be eating more turkey skin and I'm not into the whole unvailing presentation part of it. So, my turkey's ugly, but it tastes yummy.
Once it comes out, leave the darn thing alone for a while. I'm talking like thirty minutes at least. It's fricken huge; it's not going to get cold. Heat up your other stuff. Make your gravy. But, for the love of Alton, leave it alone!
That's it. Next year, I promise to take pictures and to make this a more...funny?...story. Here's the nitty gritty. Next year, we'll get into the fun.
Monday, November 14, 2011
Rules
People have accused me of being "Brooke-centric". I believe there are certain rules that apply, that people know them, and that when they break them, they are giving me permission to judge them.
When you are invited to dinner at someone's home, the polite thing to do is ask the following question: "What can I bring?". If you don't ask this question you need to acknowledge something about yourself. You're a little bit rude. When my friends do this, it's okay. I still like them. In fact, it doesn't really bother me all that much because I do love to cook. But, I do judge them just a little bit.
Now, if you're a guest in someone's home, you are, oddly, not expected to bring anything. I don't know why. I guess the fact that you spent more than $10.00 on gas to visit exempts you from buying food. But, if you and your host go to the grocery store in order to feed your sorry self, then your job is to ask if you can help with the bill. But, otherwise, you're off the hook. Yeah, I know this means you might pick up the tab for vegetable oil that you'll only be having 1/4 cup of in some brownies, but it's the right thing to do. Again, I don't know why. I didn't make up the rules.
As you may have noticed previously, I believe that there are certain things that make meals more...enjoyable. They involve little rules that aren't written down. They just are. For example, the only appropriate vegetable to have when you're eating a spaghetti dinner is a salad. I mean, really, can you imagine a side of brussel sprouts with your spaghetti? That's just weird. And the only other appropriate accompaniment is garlic bread. But, you shouldn't have garlic bread with pizza. Unless it comes beforehand, like an appetizer. With cheese. Of course. Duh.
My mom and dad raised me. They did not ship me out to be raised by some sort of strange type-A cult group of wolves with strange eating rules. And, since they raised me themselves, guiding me through this crazy thing called life, you would assume that they would know the rules.
Today I invited my parents to dinner. We were going to have maple glazed salmon with a balsamic reduction, salt and pepper roasted carrots, seamed snap peas, and for dessert, popovers with pumpkin ice cream. I know. This sounds amazing and gives you pause at my brilliance. I can't take credit. The Boy came up with it. I love him.
Mom did not ask what she should bring. She always asks what she should bring. I figured something was up her sleeve. Tomorrow is the Boy's birthday. He'll be 137. So, when I called her to find out when they were coming over, I asked if she liked my dessert idea. She had already made chocolate pudding for dessert.
Let's recap. She didn't ask what would be an appropriate dessert to bring. She made something willy-nilly. Like it didn't matter to bring the meal to it's logical close. The fact that chocolate pudding was an okay ending is not the point. The point is the willy and the nilly.
Luckily, I am a level-headed person with a bit of self control. She only asked me twice if itwas okay that she brought the pudding she had made special for the Boy.
Perhaps she could hear something in my voice.
I was very smooth during the whole thing, I'm sure.
I really wanted popovers.
When you are invited to dinner at someone's home, the polite thing to do is ask the following question: "What can I bring?". If you don't ask this question you need to acknowledge something about yourself. You're a little bit rude. When my friends do this, it's okay. I still like them. In fact, it doesn't really bother me all that much because I do love to cook. But, I do judge them just a little bit.
Now, if you're a guest in someone's home, you are, oddly, not expected to bring anything. I don't know why. I guess the fact that you spent more than $10.00 on gas to visit exempts you from buying food. But, if you and your host go to the grocery store in order to feed your sorry self, then your job is to ask if you can help with the bill. But, otherwise, you're off the hook. Yeah, I know this means you might pick up the tab for vegetable oil that you'll only be having 1/4 cup of in some brownies, but it's the right thing to do. Again, I don't know why. I didn't make up the rules.
As you may have noticed previously, I believe that there are certain things that make meals more...enjoyable. They involve little rules that aren't written down. They just are. For example, the only appropriate vegetable to have when you're eating a spaghetti dinner is a salad. I mean, really, can you imagine a side of brussel sprouts with your spaghetti? That's just weird. And the only other appropriate accompaniment is garlic bread. But, you shouldn't have garlic bread with pizza. Unless it comes beforehand, like an appetizer. With cheese. Of course. Duh.
My mom and dad raised me. They did not ship me out to be raised by some sort of strange type-A cult group of wolves with strange eating rules. And, since they raised me themselves, guiding me through this crazy thing called life, you would assume that they would know the rules.
Today I invited my parents to dinner. We were going to have maple glazed salmon with a balsamic reduction, salt and pepper roasted carrots, seamed snap peas, and for dessert, popovers with pumpkin ice cream. I know. This sounds amazing and gives you pause at my brilliance. I can't take credit. The Boy came up with it. I love him.
Mom did not ask what she should bring. She always asks what she should bring. I figured something was up her sleeve. Tomorrow is the Boy's birthday. He'll be 137. So, when I called her to find out when they were coming over, I asked if she liked my dessert idea. She had already made chocolate pudding for dessert.
Let's recap. She didn't ask what would be an appropriate dessert to bring. She made something willy-nilly. Like it didn't matter to bring the meal to it's logical close. The fact that chocolate pudding was an okay ending is not the point. The point is the willy and the nilly.
Luckily, I am a level-headed person with a bit of self control. She only asked me twice if itwas okay that she brought the pudding she had made special for the Boy.
Perhaps she could hear something in my voice.
I was very smooth during the whole thing, I'm sure.
I really wanted popovers.
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Red Thai?
As a teacher, I take assignments very seriously. If given one, I do try my best. It may be my sarcastic best, but it's my best.
So, now that one of my best friends has given me as assignment, I need to figure out how to do my best. And her assignment has keyed into cooking. So, now it's fun to do.
But...she's created a challenge. Create the Red Thai soup from A Single Pebble restaurant. Now, A Single Pebble is the best restaurant in Vermont, in my opinion. The chef there is amazing. One of my most favorite things in the whole world is the mock eel at this restaurant (and, my idol Alton Brown agrees with me). It is amazing. So, to consider recreating a dish from this place is daunting.
So, where do I begin?
A year ago I would have began with a trip to A Single Pebble. I would have had the soup (and the mock eel, of course) there with dinner, and then I would have gotten some as take out. I would have tasted it and tried to figure out all of the ingredients. Then, I would have tasted my creation beside another order of the soup from there (and some more mock eel). And this would have continued until I had it.
But now the Little Guy is here. So, impromptu trips to get soup an hour away is kind of hard.
So, what to do?
I have considered calling the restaurant and simply asking for the recipe. Cheating? Perhaps. But easy.
I can't do that though. It takes the fun out of the chase. It's like hiring a a cheap prostitute. So, I'm left with the question of what to do. The only thing I can think of is to try to make it from my memory and the description on the menu and just hope that it's good enough. Maybe I'll get up there and I'll get some take out. Maybe not.
What I can only hope it this. I hope that whatever it is that I do make, while it won't be the Red Thai soup, I hope it's amazing enough for her!
So, now that one of my best friends has given me as assignment, I need to figure out how to do my best. And her assignment has keyed into cooking. So, now it's fun to do.
But...she's created a challenge. Create the Red Thai soup from A Single Pebble restaurant. Now, A Single Pebble is the best restaurant in Vermont, in my opinion. The chef there is amazing. One of my most favorite things in the whole world is the mock eel at this restaurant (and, my idol Alton Brown agrees with me). It is amazing. So, to consider recreating a dish from this place is daunting.
So, where do I begin?
A year ago I would have began with a trip to A Single Pebble. I would have had the soup (and the mock eel, of course) there with dinner, and then I would have gotten some as take out. I would have tasted it and tried to figure out all of the ingredients. Then, I would have tasted my creation beside another order of the soup from there (and some more mock eel). And this would have continued until I had it.
But now the Little Guy is here. So, impromptu trips to get soup an hour away is kind of hard.
So, what to do?
I have considered calling the restaurant and simply asking for the recipe. Cheating? Perhaps. But easy.
I can't do that though. It takes the fun out of the chase. It's like hiring a a cheap prostitute. So, I'm left with the question of what to do. The only thing I can think of is to try to make it from my memory and the description on the menu and just hope that it's good enough. Maybe I'll get up there and I'll get some take out. Maybe not.
What I can only hope it this. I hope that whatever it is that I do make, while it won't be the Red Thai soup, I hope it's amazing enough for her!
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Awww....Pretty
Little brown meals. That's what I call it when we have chicken, corn, and potatoes. And when this happens, I will sometimes eat it off of my yellow fiesta ware plate instead of the red or purple one. Why? Because I need to punish myself for creating an ugly meal. I need to see the hidiousness through.Today, I made something pretty. It was taco seasoning. Today we had tacos--not any sort of special, gourmet tacos, but they were pretty tacos.
The tomatoes were red, and the lettuce was green. The cheddar was white, and the beef (with that pretty seasoning) was brown. A bit of guacomole, black beans, rice, and sour cream on the tortilla shell...and I had one pretty heck of a meal.
I ate it off of a tourquois plate.
Thursday, August 4, 2011
My Mother Thinks I'm Killing My Baby
I turned out alright. I mean, I don't NEED therapy.
Thus, my mother believes I should raise the Little Guy the same way she raised me. Hmmmm...
We do some things the same.
She used cloth diapers, and I am doing the same. Admittedly, she thinks I'm crazy and only wants to put him in disposables when she's babysitting, but that's not the point, right?
We both believe that the Little Guy shouldn't be watching too much TV--especially at his age. Admittedly, I have never sat him down in front of the TV (yet) as a babysitter. And she has. A lot. But again, we're the same, right?
We both don't believe in the "cry-it-out" method. I can't just leave my little baby in his crib to scream. He could be scared or hurt. Until he has language, I can't do it. Admittedly, Mom sent me a link to a "cry-it-out- site. But again...we're doing some things the same, right?
That might be it for what we do the same.
The Little Guy sleeps on his back. He doesn't use blankets. We don't keep stuffed animals in the crib. He doesn't ride in a car--no matter how short the distance...without being in a car seat. We're waiting until he's six months old to introduce solid foods. I didn't have a baby shower. All of his clothes and toys are gifts, and mostly hand-me-downs. She thinks we're crazy, but she accepts these things. Because we're the parents. We get to decide. She's good like that.
But...who doesn't think it's a little bit fun to poke the bear?
I read some articles about introducing spices to the baby food you make your child. This sent my mom right to crazy town and back.
The Boy and I love to eat all foods. And, I love to cook. So, when I made this chicken curry last night, I said to him, "I think when Little Guy starts eating, I can just put these carrots and sweet potatoes right in the food processor. I can cook them with the chicken, get a little of that yummy chicken goodness into them, a little carmelization, and that curry spice...and then zip them up and feed them to him. Of course, this is all after he's eaten sweet potatoes and carrots on their own. We're not totally crazy.
My point? I want my son to love food as much as I do. And, sometimes it's okay to not do things just like your mom did them. Even if I did turn out pretty okay.
Thus, my mother believes I should raise the Little Guy the same way she raised me. Hmmmm...
We do some things the same.
She used cloth diapers, and I am doing the same. Admittedly, she thinks I'm crazy and only wants to put him in disposables when she's babysitting, but that's not the point, right?
We both believe that the Little Guy shouldn't be watching too much TV--especially at his age. Admittedly, I have never sat him down in front of the TV (yet) as a babysitter. And she has. A lot. But again, we're the same, right?
We both don't believe in the "cry-it-out" method. I can't just leave my little baby in his crib to scream. He could be scared or hurt. Until he has language, I can't do it. Admittedly, Mom sent me a link to a "cry-it-out- site. But again...we're doing some things the same, right?
That might be it for what we do the same.
The Little Guy sleeps on his back. He doesn't use blankets. We don't keep stuffed animals in the crib. He doesn't ride in a car--no matter how short the distance...without being in a car seat. We're waiting until he's six months old to introduce solid foods. I didn't have a baby shower. All of his clothes and toys are gifts, and mostly hand-me-downs. She thinks we're crazy, but she accepts these things. Because we're the parents. We get to decide. She's good like that.
But...who doesn't think it's a little bit fun to poke the bear?
I read some articles about introducing spices to the baby food you make your child. This sent my mom right to crazy town and back.
The Boy and I love to eat all foods. And, I love to cook. So, when I made this chicken curry last night, I said to him, "I think when Little Guy starts eating, I can just put these carrots and sweet potatoes right in the food processor. I can cook them with the chicken, get a little of that yummy chicken goodness into them, a little carmelization, and that curry spice...and then zip them up and feed them to him. Of course, this is all after he's eaten sweet potatoes and carrots on their own. We're not totally crazy.
My point? I want my son to love food as much as I do. And, sometimes it's okay to not do things just like your mom did them. Even if I did turn out pretty okay.
Thursday, May 26, 2011
The Great Food Out
Kevin has done this twice. It's one of those crazy, mythical experiements that he speaks of nostalgically as something he did back then when he was a healthier, stronger person.
Now we're softer. We've gotten used to having whatever we want to eat every second of every day. If we don't have cheese in the fridge, well, that's a cause for a quick trip to the grocery store.
We're the people who like to go to the grocery store. Seriously. I enjoy it in the same way that I enjoy cooking. It's a place where my imagination can run wild...sometimes too wild according to Kevin. Anyway, because we like to go to the grocery store, it's not hard to imagine that the lack of cheese in our fridge would allow us to run out to our favorite place in order to have that perfect meal tonight.
That's where the mythical event of past comes. What if we stopped going to the grocery store until all of the food in the house was gone? How long would that take? Two weeks? A month? Three months? Well, we're considering figuring out.
Like I said, Kevin's done this twice before. This experiment is the reason we don't buy Jell-O. Ever. Apparently he got down to about five boxes of Jell-O and decided to just throw them away instead of eating a meal of lime and cherry Jell-O one night. And, that was how the first Great Food Out ended.
Before we begin, we have to figure out the rules. What constitutes "food"? Is ketchup food? Is ground thyme food? Are sugar and flour and molasses food? What will we have to throw away at the end in order to allow the Great Food Out to come to an eventual end?
When do we start? Do we start with our last grocery trip, or do we go to the store and stock up on things that we know will make the next however-long-it-is better? That seems like cheating. It almost seems like this should hurt.
Can I buy seeds and grow fresh veggies in my garden? And if so, does that mean someone else that I knew personally could...and I could, say, go to the Farmers' Market like we always do in the summer time? Or, should we just wait until the end of summer, when the fresh veggies won't call to me in the night?
As you can see, I'm thinking I'm going to have a hard time with this.
The following are my opinions on how we can do this, while being true to the idea but still staying sane:
Now we're softer. We've gotten used to having whatever we want to eat every second of every day. If we don't have cheese in the fridge, well, that's a cause for a quick trip to the grocery store.
We're the people who like to go to the grocery store. Seriously. I enjoy it in the same way that I enjoy cooking. It's a place where my imagination can run wild...sometimes too wild according to Kevin. Anyway, because we like to go to the grocery store, it's not hard to imagine that the lack of cheese in our fridge would allow us to run out to our favorite place in order to have that perfect meal tonight.
That's where the mythical event of past comes. What if we stopped going to the grocery store until all of the food in the house was gone? How long would that take? Two weeks? A month? Three months? Well, we're considering figuring out.
Like I said, Kevin's done this twice before. This experiment is the reason we don't buy Jell-O. Ever. Apparently he got down to about five boxes of Jell-O and decided to just throw them away instead of eating a meal of lime and cherry Jell-O one night. And, that was how the first Great Food Out ended.
Before we begin, we have to figure out the rules. What constitutes "food"? Is ketchup food? Is ground thyme food? Are sugar and flour and molasses food? What will we have to throw away at the end in order to allow the Great Food Out to come to an eventual end?
When do we start? Do we start with our last grocery trip, or do we go to the store and stock up on things that we know will make the next however-long-it-is better? That seems like cheating. It almost seems like this should hurt.
Can I buy seeds and grow fresh veggies in my garden? And if so, does that mean someone else that I knew personally could...and I could, say, go to the Farmers' Market like we always do in the summer time? Or, should we just wait until the end of summer, when the fresh veggies won't call to me in the night?
As you can see, I'm thinking I'm going to have a hard time with this.
The following are my opinions on how we can do this, while being true to the idea but still staying sane:
- We start when Kevin gets out of school.
- We don't count spices or condiments as food.
- We don't count raw baking ingredients (sugar, yeast & flour) as food.
- We can buy food to bring to friends' homes for potluck dinners, but we have to bring it all and leave it there.
- We can grow things in my garden, and we can go to the Farmers' Market. I do believe that the Farmers' Market is cheating, but I'm not opposed to cheating.
I think that's all I need to figure out and get Kevin on board with. What do you think?
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