Practicing the Feast

We didn't blog the last feast meal.  I don't know that I can even remember it.  Bah.

Here we go again.  Sometimes, there's nothing worse than wanting to connect and finding that you've gotten so far from that place of slowing down and really having a conversation that it takes practice.  It does take practice.  It's a lot like running, I think.  Each fall, I scheme up new ways to stay in shape over the winter.  Each winter, I give up and decide that heavy whipping cream is more important than pants that fit.  Each spring, I get all excited about running again.  I start off running way too quickly, get about 2 blocks into a 3-mile run, and walk.  I tell myself that I'll start running at the next landmark, go a couple more blocks, and walk.  It goes this way until, finally, I run the whole 3-mile route.

We start with small conversations... and they get longer and longer, and the candles shorter and shorter, and eventually, instead of gulping down the last few sips of wine, I let it sit in the glass until I'm good and ready for dinner to be done.  It is the hunger for those nights that keeps me going through all the others.  It is the nights that are full of dreaming together, of coming up with our schemes of how we're going to conquer the world, the nights of knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that - though our team is small - "Team B-R" is pretty kickass.

I haven't eaten pork chops and enjoyed it since I was a kid.  A little bit of brine, a few grilled veggies, and a balsamic cream sauce makes pork chops magical.

Oh, and I decided to make homemade butterscotch pudding.  I am not at all humble about dessert.  I love making it, I love eating it, and I'm good at it.  See: previous conversation about running.

Pork Chops
4 pork chops
water to cover
2 small handfuls of salt
3 small handfuls of sugar
1 bay leaf
5-10 peppercorns

Put the pork chops in brine about 2 hours before eating.  An hour before eating, pull from the fridge so they come up to room temp (I encourage purchasing meat from a source you trust; meat can be in the "danger zone" (between 40-140 degrees) for 4 hours, and that's the standard for food service for pork from factory farms.  30 minutes before eating, heat up the grill.  If you're using charcoal, most of the coals should be white when you put the pork on.  Right before you put the meat on the grill, dry it off with a paper towel.  This way, the grill won't work to dry off your meat before it starts to cook it.  Cook the pork for several minutes (4-7) on each side.  When you touch it, it should have very little give to it.  You'll want the meat to be medium-well, if not well-done, but not cooked to oblivion.

Sauce
1 clove garlic
3T balsamic vinegar
1/4c. heavy whipping cream
Rosemary
Salt
Pepper

Sautee the garlic in some olive oil.  When you start to smell it, pour over the balsamic vinegar.  When that is bubbling, add the cream.  Add the rosemary, salt, and pepper.  Cook, stirring constantly, until the sauce becomes dark dark brown (almost black).  If it's the color of chocolate milk, you're not done stirring yet.  It will be rich and delicious.  Put some on your finger and try it.  Just swipe your finger over the surface of the sauce; it won't burn you (and if it does, it won't burn you badly), and it will make you look hardcore.  Check the seasonings.

Grilled Vegetables
Use whatever veggies are in season.
Asparagus
Green Garlic
Green Onions

Drizzle a bit of olive oil over the vegetables, followed by salt and pepper.  Grill for 5-10 minutes or until done.

Mashed Potatoes
4 potatoes, chopped
As much butter as you dare

Boil the potatoes until they fall apart when you stick a fork in them.  Drain them and toss the drained potatoes into a mixing bowl.  Mix with as much butter as you can stand (I admire people who use almost equal parts butter and potatoes - no kidding - but I am not yet brave enough to do it), adding salt and pepper (white pepper, if you're feeling fancy) to taste.


Butterscotch Pudding (from With a Measure of Grace)
1/4c butter
3/4c packed brown sugar
1/4t salt
1/2c heavy whipping cream
1 1/2c milk
1 capful vanilla extract (NOT IMITATION - NEVER IMITATION.  I feel strongly about this.) You can also use booze... orange liqeur is interesting, as is coffee, etc.
3T cornstarch, dissolved in 3T water

Melt the butter;  add brown sugar and salt.  Cook until it starts to smell a little burnt, but not a lot burnt.  Add the heavy whipping cream.  It will spit and yell at you because the cold cream will shock the hot caramel.  Stir the caramel until there are no more sugar chunks.  Add the milk and vanilla extract.  Stir until well mixed.  Add the cornstarch and water mixture (stir it to make sure there are no chunks first), and stir until the mixture becomes thick.  Transfer into individual bowls and place plastic wrap over the surface.  Refridgerate.  Serve with whipped cream.

Relationship Insurance

This is seriously my favorite wedding picture.
It betrays our personalities so well,
awkwardness and all.  Seriously,
Any ideas on what the
caption should be?

Tomorrow, we're going all-out for feast meal in a way that we haven't in a long time.  For us this is code for: "Life has been rough lately and we need to slow down and connect over dinner and take conscious time."  This is code for: "We haven't talked about our hopes, dreams, or big ideas in a long time."  This is code for: "What has been occupying your head since the last time I listened to you?"  This is code for: "I'm sorry I haven't been listening.  I've been too wrapped up in my own stuff."  This is code for: "I love you."

These dinners are our relationship insurance.  Since we don't go for things like prenuptual agreements (seriously... ), we've decided to make this relationship the best one we can.  It's a good reminder.  Sometimes, a healthy relationship doesn't feel like enough.  The truth is, though, like I said to my Dad when we were talking about some of my hopes for vocation/work and my fears they won't come through, "Dad, if all I get out of this life is Ben, I've got more than most people could ever dream of."  Sometimes, I forget that this is true.  Sometimes, I forget that loving and being loved is one of the sincerest forms of grace I have encountered.  Here's to it!

(This picture was 8 years ago.  Not much has changed.)

Stinky Pre-Race Runner Salad (if you don't say it in order, it's awkward)

I just made a pasta/bean dish that might be changing my world.  Maybe it will change yours too.  Sometimes the best kitchen things happen on accident (see: chocolate chip cookies).  Anyway, it makes up for the abject failure of a chocolate buttercream pie (dessert for tomorrow) that has now been laid to rest in our compost bin (we'll be buying extra butter and eggs this week, courtesy of yours truly).

Don't worry... someday Ben will contribute to the blog as well.  His posts will likely be far more succinct and with far fewer rabbitholes, distractions...

1c. garbanzo beans, soaked overnight and drained (or, if you're like me, you make things like this at the last minute.  In that case, pour boiling water over them, cover and let sit for 1 hour).  You could also use one 8oz can.
6 olives, preferrably a combination of black and green, the highest quality you can find, pitted and chopped roughly.
1/4 red onion, on the edge between diced and minced*
1 clove garlic, minced
2T apple cider vinegar
2T olive oil
Salt, to taste

Boil the garbanzos until tender.  I don't have a trick for knowing when this is - I usually end up eating a few that are pretty undercooked before they are done.  Allow to cool briefly.  Add the other ingredients and stir.

You could eat it plain or with crusty bread, but we're going to have it with pasta since we are running a 12k tomorrow morning.  You can use any kind of small pasta you like.  Orichette is nice with garbanzos, if you're looking for a recommendation.

Add pasta to garbanzos and toss.  Stir in some arugula if you like (we will!).

Slowing Down to Sleep

Today Ben biked into the wind for 9 miles to get to work (yes, he still had to work on his feet in the kitchen!).  I went to camp with a bunch of senior citizens from church and came home to meetings, tensions in the church that live only barely beneath the surface, and an academic paper that is screaming to be finished.  Some comfort food is in order.  That's why I'm making pesto grilled cheese for dinner tonight.  Some nights, slowing down so the voices in your head get bored and leave is worth a smaller amount of sleep.

4 slices of bread (make your own!  This recipe is easy and awesome: http://www.nytimes.com/2006/11/08/dining/081mrex.html)
4 slices provolone cheese
Argula pesto (mostly made of what we happened to have in the fridge; not really from a recipe)

The only recipe you'll really need is for the pesto:
1 clove garlic
2 big fistfuls of arugula (probably around 2 cups)
1 fistful of parsley (we use flat-leaf, probably around 1/2 cup if you're of the obsessive measuring persuasion)
Olive oil (probably around 1/4c.)
Salt to taste
Nuts if you have them (pine nuts or almonds work best; you can use stronger flavored nuts, but they can compete with the pepperiness of the arugula)
Parmesan if you want it (use if you are putting this on pasta instead of in grilled cheese!)

Preheat oven to 250.

Put garlic, arugula, and parsley in a food processer (a cuisinart is around $100; it's expensive, but we've had ours 5 years and it has paid for itself a bajillion times over).  After 20 seconds, drizzle olive oil into processor.  Add salt.  Taste it to see if you like it.  Add a little more salt if you don't.  Add nuts if you're rich or if you have them on hand (probably around 1/8c chopped).  I didn't have any and they're not in the grocery budget, so we left them out.  Add parmesan if you want it (probably around 1/4c.)  Process until uniformly mixed.

Melt butter (not margarine, not I can't believe it's not (you can tell the difference), and use more than you think you need - at least 1 tablespoon) in an oven-safe pan that can fit the grilled cheese.  Smear a generous amount of pesto on each slice of bread.  Put two pieces of cheese on each.  Cook grilled cheese on one side.  Flip when it is browned.  After you flip it, put it in the oven until the other side is browned (around 15 minutes).  This way, the cheese all gets melted and you don't have browned bread and non-melted cheese.



A few notes:
- When basil is in season, substitute it for arugula (arugula and basil are not in season at the same time unless you live in Berkeley; if you live in Berkeley, you probably already know what's in season).
- If you want to freeze the pesto, skip the nuts and the cheese.  Put the pesto in silicon ice cube trays.  When it is solid, turn it out into a freezer bag.
- This pesto is good on: grilled cheese, pasta, pizza, mixed with cream cheese and put on crackers, and is probably also good on chicken.  If you want to put it on beef or lamb, put 1/4c. back in the food processor with 1/4c. butter and make a compound butter.  Put the butter in plastic wrap in a cylinder shape and put in the freezer.  Grill your meat.  Slice the butter right out of the freezer and put it on top of your meat.  It will melt with the temperature of the meat and make it delicious.

Homemade Pizza

Friday nights are pizza nights at our house.  This is a tradition, as with most of Ben and my food traditions, that is borrowed from countless people.  Open a beer, make a martini if you dare (gin only, please), pop in a movie, and enjoy!

Regarding toppings:

If your pizza does not taste good enough with just sauce, cheese, and crust, adding a bunch of other stuff to it really isn't going to improve it much.  I would recommend making cheese pizzas until you get to one that makes you say, "Oh my God this is so good," and then start adding toppings.  Adding a bit of homemade sausage (with fennel and chilis, perhaps) to an already amazing pizza makes life worth living. 

Things you can do to explore making the perfect cheese pizza (don't do all of these at once, or you'll never isolate which part of the pizza "makes it" for you - do one at a time; it will make a better pizza and it will make you a better cook):

Mess with the flours in the dough, with how long you let it sit, with how thick you roll it, etc.  

Try brushing olive oil on the crust before you add the sauce.  

Make the sauce a few different ways from a few different recipes.  

Add a little parmesan or asiago or whatever sort of cheese you like.

Pizza Dough
Tomato Sauce
Mozzarella
Toppings

For the dough (borrowed, adapted, and changed weekly from Alice Water's recipe in The Art of Simple Food, which is one of my go-to cookbooks, if you'd like a cookbook suggestion):

Anywhere from 2-5 hours before you want to eat pizza, start this process:
Whisk Together:
1t. active dry yeast (we buy it in big bags and keep it in the freezer in a mason jar)
1/4c. wheat flour
1/4c. white flour (unbleached, please)
2/3c. warm water (it should feel like bathtub water)
- let sit for 30 minutes until bubbly.

Add:
1/2c. warm water
1/4c. olive oil (give or take)
1t. salt (when making bread or pizza dough, a rule of thumb I use is put in equal parts salt and yeast... somehow, the ratio usually works out)
2-3c. of unbleached flour, or enough to make a dough that cleans the bottom of the mixing bowl or, if you're tactile, that feels only slightly sticky to touch but doesn't leave any gunk on your hands when you touch it.

Put the dough in a bowl and cover it with a towel.  Let it rise for anywhere from 1-4 hours.  The longer it rises, the more flavor it will have (which is true of just about any bread).

This recipe makes about 2 medium-sized pizzas, but I usually cut it in half and make either breakfast foccacia or cinnamon rolls for the next morning with it since there are only two of us eating pizza.*

Tomato Sauce:
Preheat oven to 450.
When tomatoes are not in season, use 16oz canned tomatoes.
When tomatoes are in season, we use whatever tomato has a good texture (i.e. not mealy).  Four big heirloom tomatoes cut into 2" pieces should do the trick.
- place tomatoes in an oven-safe pan (we use glass - it's the easiest to clean).
- drizzle pan with olive oil (I've never measured it, but it's probably between 1/8 and 1/4c)
- sprinkle salt and pepper on top
- add a drizzle (probably 1t-1T depending on taste) of balsamic vinegar if you like a sweeter sauce
- you can add dried herbs if you like; I wouldn't add fresh - roasting them at this high of a temperature does not do them justice.  Dried are fine because they need the time, heat, and moisture to release their flavors.
Roast in the oven until the tomatoes start to blacken.  Don't burn the whole pan, just look for the tops starting to get dark.  Your pan will be covered with brownish splotches.  It will be okay.  Someone smart invented metal scrubbers for that.  Teflon and I are in a permanent fight.  Non-stick pans would be great if stuff didn't stick to them, inviting me to use whatever is necessary to clean them.  Also, you cannot properly whisk custard without a metal whisk.  Also, if I want to use a fork to stir my eggs, I am going to use a fork to stir my eggs.  We do not own non-stick pans.  It's cast-iron, enamel, and stainless steel for us!

Mozzarella:
Making your own is fun.  All you need is rennet (sold in most natural food stores) and a gallon of milk and some time to knead the curds into mozzarella balls.   You will develop Popeye-like forearms, but it's for a good cause.  I couldn't get mine to have a consistent texture, so I've decided to support people who can by buying their cheese.  Someday, I will talk about how much I love cheese.  And Wisconsin (sorry, Minnesota).


*Breakfast foccacia: super easy => flatten the dough into an oven-safe pan (we use a 9" round casserole, but you could use an 8x8 glass pan or anything that size), pour a bunch of olive oil (probably 1/4c. at least) and honey (2T-1/4c) on top.  I top ours with thyme, which has a really interesting flavor with the honey, and a little bit of salt.  If we have grapes, they're fabulous on top as well right along with everything else.  Bake right along with your pizza, though it might take a little longer; set a timer - I have burnt many a breakfast foccacia by not setting timers.

*Cinnamon rolls: again, super easy => roll out the dough so that it is 1/4" thick.  Soften 1/4c. (half of a stick) of butter.  Schmear the butter WITH YOUR HANDS all over the surface of the dough.  Mix 1/3c. brown sugar and 2t. cinnamon (all cinnamons are not created equal.  I recommend Penzey's Vietnamese cinnamon; it is seriously life-changing).  Sprinkle b.sugar and cinnamon over top.  Drizzle with honey or molasses, if you like.  Put nuts on if you like.  Put raisins on if you like.  Roll it up.  Cut the rolls into 2" thickness.  Put them in a greased oven-safe pan.  I put mine in the fridge and pull them out 1 hour before baking (about the same time I start preheating the oven).  For frosting, I mix equal parts butter and powdered sugar (you can use cream cheese in place of butter, if you like) and add a little almond or vanilla extract.

There you have it.  A super-long and complicated post on a super-simple and delicious meal.

People of the Feast - Why We Eat

My husband and my lives revolve around food.  Having both worked in more kitchens than the average person in their 3rd decade, having hosted and attended dinner parties we hoped would never end, having had the simple experience of opening a bottle of wine on a random night of the week and realized it bought us the time to talk to each other, to be with each other, and to learn how to fall in love again; food and drink is more than the nourishment of our bodies: it is the nourishment of our souls.

It's no wonder that the Eucharist is bread and wine... food and drink... but so often, we miss the wonder of this meal in our fast-food-eat-in-your-car world.  Scarfing down our nourishment as though an inconvienence, hoping nobody speaks to us so that we can move on to our next tasks, I think how we approach our meals is ultimately telling in how we live our lives and telling in how we live our lives of faith: hoping it doesn't slow us down long enough to inconvenience us, long enough to change us, long enough to make us think, "How did we ever come to be so blessed?"  So we go to our faith communities, hoping to scarf down enough to remind our bellies that they are empty, rather than to remind our bellies that our meager meal is the Great Feast, which fills to overflowing.  How we eat is how we live.

Now, don't get me wrong: you don't need to be a chef or even love food to approach a meal as something more than an inconvenience (I must confess, it helps).  Even a simple meal of a box of pasta, a bit of butter, and some parmesan cheese can have as much joy as a rack of lamb (or steak, if you're of a more Midwestern persuasion).  A simple meal can be rendered a feast in its approach.  Boil the pasta, saute some garlic in more butter than what you're comfortable with, and (for the love, buy real parmesan cheese - it's not that expensive!) a grate of parmesan cheese.  Put a tablecloth on the table (or a bedsheet if you lack a table cloth), light a couple of candles, and voila!  Feast.

Much of our food philosophy has been borrowed from varied sources: from friends who are chefs, from books we have read, from people who find themselves nourished by good food, good drink, and good company, and from our own experiences of discovering the propensity for food to mitigate continually falling in love: with each other, with the world, and with the Creator who, for whatever reason, gave us empty bellies and hungry hearts.

If you have not read The Supper of the Lamb by Robert Farrar Capon, buy a copy now.

He says: "To a radically, perpetually unnecessary world; to the restoration of astonishment to the heart and mystery to the mind; to wine, because it is a gift we never expected; to mushroom and artichoke, for they are incredible legacies; to improbable acids and high alcohols, since we would hardly have thought of them ourselves; and to all being, becuase it is superfluous; to the hairs on Harry's ear, and ot the seven hundred and sixty-eighth cell from the upper attachment of the right gluteus maximus in the last girl on the chorus line.  We are free: Prosit, Dear Hearts.  Cheers, Men and Bretheren.  We are free: nothing is needful, everything is for joy," (Capon, 86).

If everything is for joy, then each meal is a feast.  Whether it's the poker chip communion wafer and shot glass of wine body and blood of Christ, or whether it's a rack of lamb lovingly prepared for friends or family, it's a feast.  It reminds us that our lives are unnecessary gifts; we take delight in these gifts because God delights in them, and indeed, in us, as indicated in Psalm 18:19.  Here's to the feast! 

4.22.2012

Carne Asada (kind of... we don't really use recipes that often)
Guacamole (yeah, yeah... avacados are not local, but they are delicious, and sometimes delicious wins over local/organic/etc)
Escabeche (or, my term of endearment for it: ishy-bishy)
Homemade Tortillas

Rhubarb Fool (our rhubarb has just gotten big enough to use - and fool is the easiest and most impressive way to eat it)

We don't really use recipes, but if I had to guess, here's my best shot:

Carne Asada:
Meat (choose your mid-range desired form of steak... I think we used flank steak)
Marinade (again, I am guessing on the quantities):
  Traditional: 1/4c. tequilla, 2T lime juice, 2 cloves garlic, onions, chipotle peppers (or a more spicy pepper, if you prefer)
  What we did: 1/4c. red wine vinegar, 2T lime juice, 2 cloves garlic, 1 red chili pepper, mustard (Ben puts mustard in just about every marinade we make).
  Marinade 4 hours; overnight is better.
  Grill until medium-rare.  (Touch test: When you touch it with your finger, it should resist, but return to its original shape.)

Guacamole (best made in a mortar and pestle; it won't turn brown nearly as fast, if at all!):
  1 avocado
  1 clove garlic (optional, but I love garlic)
  Cilantro and Salt, to taste.
  Pound the avocado and ingredients in a mortar and pestle.

Escabeche
  1 carrot, sliced into 1/2 inch chunks
  1 celery stalk, sliced into 1/2 inch chunks
  3 cloves garlic (garlic is seriously our health insurance plan - it's better than most of the plans out there!)
  1/2 medium onion, sliced thinly
  1 jalepeno, quartered
  1/2c. vinegar
  1/2c. water
  1t sugar
  1t salt
  1 bay leaf
  - Put the carrot, celery, garlic, onion, and jalepeno into a mason jar.
  - Place the vinegar, water, sugar, salt, and bay leaf into a saucepan over medium heat. Bring to a boil.  Pour over vegetables.  Wait 60 minutes or until cool; the more time you give the veggies, the more pickly they get.

Homemade Tortillas:
  2c. all purpose flour
  2T butter or lard
  1t. baking powder
  1/4t. salt
  - mix the flour, salt, and baking powder with the lard with your fingers until the mixture is uniform.  Add water (around 3/4c) to make a dough that feels a little like playdoh (this is the texture you want pie crust to have as well).  Divide into 12 dough balls.  Roll on a floured surface.  Place on a heated cast-iron, enamel, or stainless steel pan over medium heat.  Flip when it has brown freckles.  Burn a few.  It builds character.

Rhubarb Fool (is foolishly easy to make and wickedly delicious)
  Rhubarb part:
  8 stalks rhubarb (as fresh as you can find - this dessert is meant for April/May!), cut in 1/2 inch chunks
  1/2-3/4c. sugar, depending on how tart the rhubarb is
  1T lemon juice
  - Put rhubarb, sugar, and lemon juice in a saucepan over medium heat.  Reduce until the rhubarb has disintegrated into a sauce (about 10 minutes, but just watch for it to look like pie filling; don't burn it because you're too busy following directions!).
  1c heavy whipping cream
  1/4c. sugar
  1t. vanilla
  1 cardamom pod's worth of seeds, crushed.
  - whip cream and cardamom, adding sugar gradually, followed by vanilla.  Whip until it forms soft peaks (pull out the whisk, and it should look like a wave starting to crash).
 
We tend to drink whatever wine (regardless of color or type) we are in the mood for.  If Ben were inclined toward margaritas, I would have lobbied for them, but it is a losing battle.  We drank a new-to-us Malbec that didn't really work that well with the meal.  We ended up pouring half of the bottle into our red wine vinegar starter.  Oh well.

In other news, today I made the first fresh flower cuttings for our Sunday bouquet.  We ate outside by candlelight with a beautiful mix of spring flowers.  A life in which there is good food, candles, and spring flowers can't be that bad.  Fortunately, the IRS doesn't tax happiness, because I am oh so rich.