Texans can be a passionate lot. Everything is bigger in Texas. When someone asks you where you’re from, and you tell them “Missouri”, they ask you what part of Texas that’s in. And don’t even try to talk about football unless you have a thick skin and 30 minutes to spare. Well, I’m here to tell you that Texans are passionate about their chili, specifically as it relates to the absence of what in my mind is a key ingredient.
There are tons of measuring devices available for the kitchen, but most are volumetric - dry measuring cups, liquid measuring cups, measuring spoons. A great deal of the time, this method of ingredient measurement works just fine, but there are occasions where measuring by weight is more appropriate, and for that you need a kitchen scale.
Miss Piggy would not be impressed with me right now. You remember the Muppets Christmas special where they’re singing “Bring us some figgy pudding” and Miss Piggy hears “piggy pudding” (you can find the quote here)? Well, I made figgy pizza and while Miss Piggy probably would’ve been fine with that, the beautiful prosciutto topping would have likely caused some consternation.
Love him or hate him, I can’t help but find Anthony Bourdain entertaining. He’s impassioned about food and travel but tempers it with a fair amount of snark. His view of his fellow chefs and cooks borders on hero-worship, but on the other hand, he reserves a special kind of ire for The Celebrity Chef. He can come across as over-inflated, but then curatively deflates his own celebrity and brings himself back down to regular-guy-who-got-lucky level. Add to this his skill as a writer, and you have (among many other things) The Nasty Bits: Collected Varietal Cuts, Usable Trim, Scraps, and Bones
For the September issue of my movie food project, I decided to cook a dish from Like Water for Chocolate. Yeah, I know it’s actually October, but I have at least a dozen good excuses for being late. We’ll settle on my quest for candied citron to explain my tardiness. Turns out that candied citron is seasonal (Christmas time – fruitcake season). This point was driven home by the fact that not a single store I checked around town had them, and each store seemed to point me to one of the others I had already visited. Fortunately I had oranges and sugar, and with oranges and sugar, you can candy citrus peels. (Now you see why I’m late with my post.)
I can’t make a tarte without thinking of this. (Here it is in English as well.) There’s no reason to love these little videos, but I find myself strangely drawn in by them. And yes, I can feel myself losing whatever minimal credibility I might have as I’m typing this. What was I cooking as I daydreamed of my two egg-shaped heroes and the outlandish cast of characters they interact with? Belgian Leek Tarte with Aged Goat Cheese.
I guess anyone who spends any real time in their kitchen will eventually wind up with a few cuts and burns. We’re working with dangerous stuff here: sharp knives, heavy pots and pans, hot metal, and often open flame. Even the most cautious cook will eventually have a momentary lapse in judgement or a seemingly unavoidable slip or bump that causes an injury. I happen to not be the most cautious cook. Consequently, I am routinely recovering from (generally minor) cuts and second degree burns. After creating an ugly and very painful new welt on the underside of my left forearm, it occurred to me that it would be wise to have a better grasp on the appropriate first aid such a burn might require.
By this past Friday, we needed a break … in a bad way. (Without belaboring the point - in addition to dealing with The Ongoing Medical Adventures of our Cancer Cat, our outside kitty has now been missing for nearly a week. It may not sound like much, but for us, these things are a big deal.) Generally around these parts “take a break” translates to something not unlike “seek Tex-Mex food and margaritas”.
For ages I lusted after the beautifully hued enameled cast iron dutch ovens from Le Creuset, but I could never quite make myself pay the price required. One day I noticed that Mario Batali had a line of similar product, and upon looking into it, realized his goods were available for a much smaller cash outlay. It was not long after that discovery that I had a shiny red 6-quart enameled cast iron dutch oven of my own.
When I think of canning, I think of my grandmothers. They had impossibly huge gardens and come harvest time, they set up jar upon jar of preserved goods. I am interested in this notion of eating fruits and veggies at the peak of perfection, and saving some for later when you know you can’t have them at the peak of perfection. (The fresh-picked strawberries of summer will always taste better than the shipped from a greenhouse somewhere strawberries of winter)