some links, and kitchen news

Here's the best thing I read about the Oscars (1st saw it at Foodgoat); I was also thrilled that Helen Mirren won.
Some people are gardening already--I have seedling envy. My garden still looks pretty much like this, although some of the snow has melted.
Some other people (well, only one) have lost 1/2 their weight, which makes feel like a slacker for not being able to lose 10.
March 1 was National Pig Day, which I didn't know--but I'm planning on eating bacon this week anyway, in belated remembrance, perhaps in this tempting recipe from Chocolate and Zucchini, which is basically mac and cheese with hazelnuts and bacon: mmmm. (Clothilde's cookbook is coming out in May!)
I was looking for something quite different the other day (can't remember what it was), and found a site with Czech and Slovak recipes, which reminded me that I want to explore my native cuisine (one of them: I'm a mongrel). The only ones I recognized were klobasa (which we knew as kielbasi)--the beloved smoked sausage of many Eastern European countries; and palacinky, which the site described as "sweet stuffed crepes." I felt almost offended by the name--I could feel my dormant Slovakness rising up: a French name for one of the only Slovak dishes my mother made for us? Quel horreur!
But I guess they are crepes, we just didn't know it. To us they were a seldom, special treat, and everything about them was lit with magic: the way the batter gaily spread in the pan to make the thinnest of (pancakes) (crepes) palacinky, the red gleam of the jelly spread on the finished product, the powdered sugar dusted on the rolled palacinky, the squidginess of the roll under the fork, the separate tastes of egginess, jelly, sugar in the mouth.
Sometimes Mom would say, "my mother used to make these for us," for her and her 10 brothers and sisters, and that would make them taste even better, imagining my grandmother making them on the farm, and maybe even back in what we then called "the old country." Food from the past, from Europe, from where our grandfather worked as a forester, like something in a fairy tale.
Here's the best picture I could find of palacinky--it appears to be a mix for palacinky. Ours were never served with whipped cream or berries, although I wouldn't say no.

News: the kitchen is almost, almost finished. See D, left, putting a coat of primer on the ugly redness. There is a stage and a half left: the half is the refinishing of the cupboard doors, which we decided to do separately from the cupboards themselves, since it's going to involve paint remover which we'd rather do outside. The whole stage is the floor, which will be no doubt involved and awful in ways we can't even imagine, but which we won't think about before we have to.
So this weekend, my daughters and their families will come to visit and we'll be able to cook something for them in an attractive kitchen (if you don't look at the floor), free of its plastic veil--I am elated. And I can make palacinky--possibly on Saturday I'll be pouring batter, spreading jelly, dusting sugar. Can't wait.

February is a cold month

We are still in the kitchen, meaning still working on it. Currently, it's the inside of the cupboards, which are painted a hideous shade of drying-blood red, robustly chipped (we always check for paint chips if we get out a little-used dish or bowl), which is not only unattractive but probably lead-based and therefore toxic.
Even so, we haven't mostly relied on frozen dinners, because we got so sick of them during the plastering part of the work. Some things are more easily prepared in a partially functional kitchen. Anthing that uses too many spices will cause grief, because the spices and dried herbs are dispersed far and wide, some in a blue basket, some in a giant dough-rising bowl, some in a box along with the deer's skull that used to hang between the windows (found, not shot).
Also it's not wise to embark on anything that uses too many pans, because there's sure to be cursing and banging of the available pots when you can't find the top of the double boiler, or the springform pan, or the top of the glass casserole dish. (Actually, I don't have a springform pan. I did have one, but I decided I wasn't using it and gave it away, and then became convinced that my life wasn't worth living unless I made cheesecake. So I'll probably buy another.)

Some things that have worked well:
Macaroni and cheese--of course--so simple: macaroni, milk, flour, oil or butter, cheese. The flour canister is easy to find because it's big enough to hold a five-pound bag.
Omelets: everything's in the fridge, which has not so far been renovated.
Chili: this was one of the 1st things we made after the kitchen became functional, and because we like it so much, I grouped the necessary spices/herbs on the window sill for easy access. If I want to use dried beans there's a minor problem, since there are several kinds and they're widely distributed: a giant bag of kidney beans in the cooler, along with the giant bag of rice; pinto beans in an attractive glass jar I got at a house sale; lentils in a plastic container on the dining room window seat next to our record collection; black beans in their original bag in a box on top of the fridge.
Soup: because it is so forgiving. As long as you have stock, bought or homemade and frozen, some vegetables, onions and garlic (almost always essential), meat (optional)--you're in business. One of our recent successful soups was a black bean soup with rice and corn, sensibly spicy--so simple as not to need a recipe: black beans, chicken broth, onion and garlic chopped, corn, extra veg (diced carrots this time), one potato cut up, a cup of leftover rice, a dash of hot sauce, a pinch of ancho pepper (one of the gathered chili spices), another of kosher salt. Serve with grated cheese on top (in this case, smoked cheddar).
Thank heaven for canned crushed tomatoes--a convenience food worth standing up for. And speaking of convenience foods, if you need a reason not to buy Hamburger Helper, check out Erin O'Brien's hilarious post on her HH experiment.

wishful cooking

The kitchen is coming along. It has gone from its mutilated state (left) ; then the stove served up an assortment of strange chemical dishes, right; and now it's assuming a bridal-white coat of primer below right).

But cooking is once again suspended, and we've eaten more TV dinner type food than I like. The Boston Market chicken pot pie is not that great, in case you're interested; Marie Callendar's is far superior (although a little too salty).

In the meantime, I'm reading cookbooks and blogs and marking recipes I want to try when my stove has lost its plastic drapery, and the cupboards are full of food and dishes instead of paint thinner and sandpaper.




There have been a lot of winter vegetable posts lately, enough to make a menu. Here is my dream wintery menu:

Appetizers:
Puree of Celery Root Soup, from Orangette
Winter Salad with Fennel, Pear, Orange, and Pecan, from the passionate cook
Entree:
Simple Butternut Squash Tart, from Heidi at 101 Cookbooks

with side vegetable:
Roasted Parsnips, from Maureen at No Feeling of Falling
and for dessert,
Dark Chocolate and Beet Brownies, from La Tartine Gourmand

In the meantime, the contents of my kitchen cupboards are all over the place. Is the oatmeal on the dining table or in the corner of the living room? Where is the cinnamon? Did we eat all the walnuts, or are they in a box next to the couch?

Our tentative date of cook-ability is January 25: here's hoping.

our kitchen is on hiatus, but--

we are doing a bit of cooking here and there. Actually, the kitchen is stalled, while D figures out what is causing the minor leak in the corner by the cupboards. This was a relief, because takeout palls after a while.
But I was very glad that my sister had volunteered to do Thanksgiving. She did the turkey, gravy, stuffing

--all in our mother's time-tested ways--and the mashed potatoes, also the cranberry sauce (we have to have the canned, complete with molded lines, for tradition's sake). I did the salad and veg (green salad w homemade dressing, roasted carrots, and green beans). Our aunt made the pies: two pumpkin, one pumpkin chiffon, and as she always does, pronounced the dinner a triumph. Here she is, approving the table settings.
The green beans were steamed and unadorned; the salad with a simple vinaigrette: our family believes in some plain food on holidays to go along with the fancy. But the roasted carrots were gussied up a little, and got their modest share of compliments.
Roasted Carrots
16-20 medium to large carrots
2-3 tbs olive oil
a pinch of salt
juice of half a lime
2-3 tbs brown sugar
I cut the carrots in chunks, splitting some of the largest first, then tossed them with the oil and juice and sprinkled them with salt. I roasted them for about 40 minutes in a 375 degree oven (until fork tender), then took them out and tossed them with the brown sugar. I did them a day ahead and heated them up in my sister's microwave, and they were very good, fitting accompaniment to the glamorous turkey.
My surprise of the day was how much I (a fanatical lover of the regular version) liked the pumpkin chiffon pie--my aunt has promised the recipe, so maybe I'll post it later. As with so many great dishes, it was devoured before anyone (me) thought to take a picture.
Here's the youngest and pickiest Thanksgiving diner, left, turning his nose up at something.
And his cousin, right, planning an assault on the mashed potatoes. They haven't learned to like the stuffing yet, but maybe we won't tell them how good it is for a while.

Here's the reason there haven't been so many cooking posts lately--the only things on our stove are a tub of plastering stuff and various implements of renovation, plus an attractive frosting of plaster dust. D is fixing the ancient water damage, that we ignored for as long as we could (some might say it was way too long), and because he's a perfectionist, he's decided that not only will he do his own plastering, but that he'd redo all the ceiling problems, cracks, flaws, dimples, etc. All the books say to leave large plastering jobs to the experts, but D was undeterred. My part is to be encouraging; to call out "What's wrong?" in a calming voice when he starts swearing; and not to complain about the dust.
So there's been some take-out, some McDonald's; I had a Big Mac for the first time since the '80s. We have done a little bit of cooking, but it's short-cut cooking, making extensive use of the microwave. I made scones the other day, but all the prep work had to be done in the dining room, since every kitchen surface is a plaster-staging area.
The idea is to have it done for Thanksgiving, when my daughters' families are coming. I have my fingers crossed.