Terrible Twos and the One-Armed Webmaster

The long-awaited episode featuring a certain City Councillor is finally airing! And many of you have been logging onto our website, no doubt in search of the recipes that Gary (who was a really, REALLY good sport about the whole thing) learned to make.

I must ask for your patience - the website will be updated in the next week or so. Things have been a little nuts around here because our webmaster (a.k.a. my hubby) had a little run-in with a broken faucet handle and the handle won...he's OK but the surgery and rehab for his hand put him out of commision for a little while. Meanwhile I've been doing double-duty with our son, who is acting every bit of his 2 1/2 years.

Not that I'm whining about it! I just wanted to let y'all know that we just haven't been able to coordinate everything to get the website updated...but we will, soon!

Duck, duck...lobstah!

I’ve been playing with lobsters for the past few days. Lobster is one of those things that I’m going to make the most of, given the time and expense to prepare it for dinner.

My routine goes something like this: Day One, cook and eat lobsters. Save some of the cooking liquid and the non-nibbled-on shells and put into the refrigerator or freezer. Day Two, make a broth using a recipe that is loosely based on Julia Child’s sauce for Lobster Americaine. Day Three (Part A), make soup out of said broth and lobster cooking liquid, along with any leftover bits from the lobster boil itself (sauage, potatoes, etc. – more on this later). Day Three (Part B), use the remaining lobster broth to (1) make Lobster sauce and freeze it (use it later on pasta, or atop poached eggs for a Lobster Benedict) and/or (2) freeze the rest of the broth for future use in soup, risotto, or paella.

Sounds like a lot of work? Well, yes, except that you can do the steps on different days, and four lobsters can end up feeding you for a week. Lobster is kind of a “duck of the sea” in that regard – you can keep using and reusing the same critters to create several meals.

The lobster carousel is a little different with each ride, depending on how I cook it and what else I make with it. (Note to readers: extensive cooking details follow, skip to the end if you’re not into it). This time, the lobsters were steamed with potatoes, corn (yes, corn in November – what was I thinking!), and linguica (a type of sausage), a là a stove-top “lobster bake.” I started by making a broth out of water, two bay leaves, a small handful of coriander seeds, a tablespoon of black peppercorns, a whole head of garlic (sliced in half, across its equator), a whole onion, and a piece of dried kelp (a.k.a. kombu). The broth was simmered for ~30 minutes, then the potatoes and corn went in. When the broth was boiling again, the four lobsters went in (headfirst) and the linguica was piled on top. About 30 minutes later, the lobsters et al. were served with oodles of clarified butter and exuberantly applied Old Bay seasoning. After dinner I saved the lobster shells, leftover sausage and potatoes, lobster cooking liquid (it was strained to get rid of the spices and whatnot), and even the extra clarified butter in the refrigerator

The next day, I sautéed the lobster shells in a little peanut oil in a very large pot over high heat. When they were good and smokin’ I added a large onion (chopped) and two stalks of celery (also chopped) and sauteed them for a little longer, until the onions started to soften. (If I’d had a carrot I’d have added that too). Next, ~1/3 cup of cognac and ~1/2 cup of vermouth went in to deglaze the pot, and then enough water to cover the shells. Finally, I added a can of diced tomatoes, two bay leaves, a tablespoon of dried tarragon (don’t leave this out, even if you’re not crazy about tarragon – it totally makes the broth) and a head of whole garlic, unpeeled but sliced open across its equator. Everything was brought to a boil and then simmered happily over low heat for 1-1 2/ hours. When it was done, I fished out the head of garlic and set it aside, then strained the broth and chilled everything in the refrigerator.

Still with me? I promise, this is worth it…on Day Three I started a soup by sautéing a large onion and one green bell pepper (both chopped) in a couple of tablespoons of the leftover clarified butter. When the veggies were soft I added a couple of tablespoons of flour and continued cooking, while stirring the flour and veggies around. Next, I added ~ 2 cups of the lobster cooking liquid (which was fragrant from both lobster and linguica), ~4 cups of lobster broth, the leftover linguica and potatoes (both diced into ½” pieces) and a can of cannellini beans (drained). Oh, and some extra sweet Italian sausage that I was cooking for something else that day. Since all the ingredients were cooked, the soup came together very quickly. I made a garlic spread by smashing the garlic that was cooked in the lobster broth with about an equal amount of the leftover clarified butter and a splash of lobster broth, for an extra lobster oomph.

One of my favorite things to eat is that lobster-garlic-butter, spread on toasted bread, and dipped into the rich, lobster-y soup. (When Conan was asked, What is best in life? He meant to say “Why, it’s lobster butter garlic toast in lobster broth, of course…”).

Back to the lobster tale: I simmered down some of the remaining lobster broth, added a tablespoon of tomato paste and thickened it with a mixture of flour and (you guessed it!) more leftover clarified butter – about one tablespoon of each, mixed together, per cup of broth – to make Lobster Sauce. And after all that, I still had a quart of lobster borth left to freeze and enjoy another day.

Total count from four lobsters: lobster dinner for four people; 1 ½ quarts of lobster-y sausage and bean soup; 1 quart of Lobster Sauce (enough for 4 breakfasts over eggs, or 2 pasta dinners); and 1 quart of lobster broth for a recipe to be named later. Plus too many yummy sounds to count.

Greetings from the Wormy Pear Emporium

It’s been quite a while since we’ve made any posts. I never thought that blogging could be seasonal, but I noticed that the date of my last entry corresponds to the week that I started the first seedlings for my garden. I was so busy planning, and then working in the garden that blogging fell down a few rungs on my to-do list. Our production schedule for the show slowed down, too, as summer came on, but now we’re back with a new episode on air, and are busy filming the next one.

Ah, back in February the garden was so full of promise…this is our fourth year in this house and I’ve been busy studying our light, water, and wind patterns over the seasons. I thought for sure that I’d figured out a good plan of attack for vegetables in the raised beds, flowers in the side yard, and a mix of both in the front. Well of course I was wrong.

I’ll spare you a complete litany of woes; suffice to say that it wasn’t a banner year. Yes, I grew enough beans and broccoli to feed my toddler all summer long, but toddlers don’t eat much beans and broccoli, do they?

There were a couple of successes: the alpine strawberries (also known as wild strawberries, I think) and Butternut squash. I put six strawberry plants in a raised bed in early April; we started picking berries in June and the plants have been going strong ever since. Well, going as strong as an alpine strawberry goes: they are not heavy producers. But again, my son has been able to go “berry picking” almost everyday and I enjoy watching him almost as much as he enjoys eating them. Hopefully the plants will make it through the winter and repeat their magic next year.

The Butternut squash were intended as a defensive maneuver against squash vine borers. Between the vine borers and the powdery mildew rampant in our yard, I cannot grow zucchini. (Hard to believe, but true). I’d read somewhere that Butternut squash vines are tough so that borers can’t get in. Sure enough, I only spotted one borer which promptly met its demise. The squash crop was not without its casualties, however, thanks to an overzealous husband wielding a gas-powered line trimmer…

I am starting to close up shop in this year’s garden. In some cases, it’s time to move the exhausted plants on to my greater reward (aka the compost pile); in others, I’m just giving up (the tomatoes never really got going at all). I am switching over from production mode into consumption mode. Always challenging, it’s also a little depressing this year because I don’t have much to work with. Last year at this time, I picked ~ 3 bushels of Bartlett pears from our ancient tree. The fruit was certainly not perfect, but enough of it was worm-free to make dealing with the wormy tolerable. This year, the tree put out about a half bushel of worm-ridden pears. I can’t work up much enthusiasm for dealing with the poor things, even to make sauce (which I did lots of last year, and my son loved. He still gets excited when he sees one of the empty freezer containers. Hmmm, maybe I should start putting the broccoli in one of those containers).

At any rate, putting the garden to sleep means that I should have more time now for blogging. And dreaming about next years garden.

Darn you, W. K. Kellogg!

My son loves fruit. Usually, this is one of those things that I feel incredibly fortunate about; I mean, there are a lot less healthy things out there that my boy could go crazy over, right? Every now and then, however, his fruit obsession causes me problems.

Marketing gurus have apparently decided that plain old cereal in a bowl just doesn’t look appetizing. Thus, there are snazzy photographs of cereal garnished with luscious-looking fruit on the outside of the box. Thanks, Madison Avenue; it has taken me MONTHS to convince my toddler that there really aren’t any raspberries inside that box of Oatios. Even now, he points hopefully to those glistening red jewels at breakfast time, hoping for a miracle. Try explaining what “serving suggestion” means to a toddler.

Enter Special K with Red Berries…I just knew that I could never let my son learn that this box of cereal was different. Any time he requested that cereal, a curious atmospheric phenomenon occurred whereby the aforementioned Red Berries mysteriously stayed behind, while the flakes were transferred to his bowl. (More berries for Mommy, that way). Did I feel guilty for withholding berries from my baby? Well, I might have, except that this child can put away a pint of dried strawberries in nothing flat and then frantically sign for more. Cooking extra meals I might be, but I will NOT pick out berries from a whole box of cereal. We all have our standards. (And it would be very expensive way to buy dried strawberries).

I was content in my duplicity until this morning, when…Daddy let the big red berry out of the bag. It’s my own fault for not including him in my deceit. At least I wasn’t in the room at the time, so I didn’t have to endure seeing the light of wonder in my son’s eyes turn to cruel understanding that Mommy has been lying. Maybe I can airbrush those raspberries off of the Oatios box.

The Mouths of Babes, Part II

I always swore that I wouldn’t be one of those moms who make separate meals for their kids. My master plan was to introduce a variety of flavors early on, so Junior wouldn’t experience culinary culture shock when he made the leap from baby food to table food. So, I started adding small amounts of curry powder, soy sauce, and other flavorings that I cook with regularly so that he’d get used to the flavors in the food served at our house.

For over a year I’ve been strategizing, cooking, and serving him a healthy, balanced diet that includes a dizzying array of fresh fruit and a decent number of vegetables. Some examples: I use an overnight method to cook organic, steel-cut oats for his breakfast porridge (enhanced with unsweetened applesauce, almond butter, and sometimes ground flaxseeds). While he naps, I cook organic green veggies (broccoli or kale; frozen green beans or Brussels sprouts in a pinch), roast a Butternut squash, or microwave sweet potatoes to use at lunch or dinner, or even as snacks. The freezer is always stocked with kiddie-sized portions of homemade soups, stews, lasagna, muffins, and waffles for meals and snacks when I didn’t have time to cook during the day.

In other words, an embarrassingly large portion of my time is spent to ensure that an overabundance of healthy food is available to serve to my child on a moment’s notice.

In the middle of a cooking frenzy one day, it dawned on me that I was doing the very thing I’d vowed to avoid. I AM making separate meals for my child, but not because he’s a picky eater. The sad truth is that Mommy is a picky eater and she eats, well, poorly. As long as my son will accept it, I’ll keep giving him plain yogurt with tahini and wheat germ. But I’ll also keep sneaking bites of donut when I go into the pantry to get his organic, high-fiber crackers.

Discovering a dirty little secret about oneself is one thing; actually doing something about it is, well - is it necessary to do anything? If I’m making extra meals in the name of health, rather than catering to a picky toddler, it’s okay, right? With the way our schedules run, we don’t really have a family meal at our house, so we have some time before Junior discovers that Mommy and Daddy eat according to different rules. The day of reckoning will come, though, and I suspect that in the end, my boy will join his father (and me) on the Dark Side. Hopefully the positive effects of his current, über-healthy diet will carry on long after he begins to think of Cheetos an orange vegetable.

The Mouths of Babes

I’d heard that having children changed your life, but I didn’t realize that included my perspective on food. For example: serving sizes. I vaguely recall hearing my friends grumble about the tiny amounts of food that they could coax their children to eat. So, I wasn’t completely surprised to discover that 3/8th of a mini-muffin are more than sufficient to fuel my toddler for an entire morning. What did come as a shock, though, was the reason why: a mini-muffin is much larger than it innocently appears to be.

Don’t believe me? Try this: place half of a mini-muffin on a plate. Cut the half into quarters, then - and this is the key step - use your fingers to carefully squish each piece into crumbs. (It’s a delicate operation. You want to break up the muffin without compressing it. If you can’t master the technique, borrow someone’s toddler and have them do it for you). Magically, the muffin half will grow into an enormous pile of fluffy muffin bits. It’s a huge portion! No wonder our little ones full up so quickly.

Still not convinced? Take the plate into your living room and shake the crumbs all over your couch. Now measure the surface area of the muffin-coated regions and back-calculate to get the total volume of muffin. Or, just trust me when I tell you that those muffin bits will have mysteriously multiplied into a full-sized muffin.

It turns out that the food professionals who write baby food cookbooks are wise to this bit of infant wizardry and have built correction factors into their recipes. I remember thinking that Ruth Yaron (author of “Super Baby Food”) must be nuts for suggesting that my baby would consume ½ to 1 cup of yogurt in a meal (even if he didn’t eat anything else). The actual amount of yogurt that goes down the hatch, however, is on the order of 2 tablespoons, leaving plenty for him to spread around. (And did you all know that it’s possible to cover every surface in your kitchen with less than half a cup of yogurt? More food magic, brought to you by your friendly neighborhood toddler).

For my part, I’m thinking that eating like a toddler just might be the key to a successful diet plan. It takes a lot longer to eat a muffin when you have to hunt down each crumb. If you have a dog you’ll eat even less because you’ll be competing for muffin bits as you search all over the couch. Ah, but the symbiotic feeding habits of dogs and babies is a topic for another post.

Loss and Translation

Yesterday, my friend Marta came over to make paczki, a Polish donut that is traditionally prepared before the Lenten season. My husband, Jeff, is Polish-American and his family also makes them, though they usually have their paczki closer to Easter.

Like many treasured family recipes, Jeff’s family really didn’t have an exact recipe for paczki – his grandmother (Babci, in Polish) just knew when the stop adding the flour, when to stop kneading, when the dough was ready. Fortunately Jeff’s parents had the foresight to sit down with Babci and figure out just how much flour was being added and to describe, in some detail, how the dough looked when it was ready. Thus the treasured family recipe was preserved.

…until they started tinkering with it. Can you use more whole eggs, fewer yolks? Can you cut back on the butter? Some cooks just can’t resist altering a recipe (myself included). In this case, the paczki recipe got somewhat leaner for a while, then slid back toward its original all-egg-yolk glory (what’s the point of trying to make low-fat dough that’s going to be deep-fried, after all). I doubt that the paczki being made this year are strictly according to Babci’s original recipe. I also doubt that, in the end, it truly matters. So many things affect our perceptions of taste; would any paczki, other than those made by Babci herself and eaten when we were children, ever taste just like Babci’s?

The paczki themselves seem to differ from one family to the next. Most paczki lovers, it seems, dream of jelly donuts as the season approaches. Jeff’s family adds raisins to the dough, shapes it into balls for frying and skips the jelly. One family I know fries balls of dough, then splits them in half and fills them with both jelly and whipped cream. (Talk about decadent…).

The paczki we made yesterday were filled with plum butter. Marta brought her cookbook from home and translated the recipe as we worked, so I’m thinking that those paczki must be pretty darn authentic. Unless we missed something in the translation. I must admit, I preferred them to the raisin-studded version of Jeff’s childhood, and I’ll probably switch over to the new recipe from here on. It might turn out for the best – just having paczki in the house should be enough to bring back memories of childhood treats, but since the recipe is so different, Jeff won't be sad that they aren't just like Babci's.