Oh, Crap Muffins

Friday. My day to bake a little something in the morning then volunteer in my friend's kindergarten class  A nice day.  I like Fridays.

7:30 AM: Maybe a variation on my fried rice muffins. Spanish rice style. Top with cilantro pesto. Yumm. But, first, coffee and a little more book time...

8:25 AM: Oh, crap. How am I going to get that fly out from between the patio door and the screen door out without him getting in the house? Bzzzz. Bzzzz. Dagnabbit, stop clinging to the screen and go away! Yeah, I can prevail over flies. Wash hands. Apron...

8:36 AM: Oh, crap! Spouse 1.0 needs to leave in 20 minutes, and I haven't even started assembling ingredients. OK, quick breakfast burrito for him, then make the muffins. Now, where did I put my iPad?

8:53 AM: Oh, crap! DAVID!!! You gotta get outta here!!!!  Here. Eat this. Muffins when you get back.

9:08: 1 cup of cooked rice. Oh, crap! That doesn't look like even a third. Cook some quinoa? No, black beans! Yes, black beans!

9:10: Oh, crap! no black beans. (rummage, rummage rummage...) OK. Red beans. Mix dry ingredients. Now, get the muffin tins ready.

9:22: Dang, I hate it when the coconut oil spray drops on the floor, I really do need to organi... OH, CRAP!!! The sprayer doohickey's bent! IT WON'T STOP SPRAYING!

9:25: Well, if the can explodes, at least it'll do it outside in the trash bin.

9:27: Oh, crap! Oil on the kitchen floor. And, spray oil, no less!

9:53: OK. good enough for now. Clean more while the muffins are baking. Now where did I put the olive oil spray? Oh, crap, I can't be out!  I never run out! Oh, here it is. 

9:54: Muffins in the oven, floor still hazardous. I know! Put the non-slip undermat from a throw rug over the worst of it. Oh, crap, that's dirty. Need to get new undermats.  Well, it'll keep us from breaking our necks for now. Hopefully.

9:56: Oh, crap, it's getting late.  Still need to pack my lunch. And put notes on the floor so Spouse 1.0 doesn't slip and kill himself when he gets home. Yikes, what a mess! OK. Breathe. No problem. Still plenty of time.

10:17: Wow, a bit crumbly, but actually pretty tasty.  Oh, crap! I should be in the shower already.

10:43: OK, showered, dressed, no makeup. Ready or not, here I com...  Oh, crap! Still need to put muffins away. And set out some for Spouse 1.0. And pack some for Melanie.

10:48: Oh, crap, I'm late.

Not sure what I'll call these, but for now, I guess it's "Oh, Crap Muffins."

Pesto Musings

I used to hate basil.

I used to hate oil.

I used to hate washing and chopping and getting my kitchen messy.

I used to hate the smell of garlic on my hands.

I used to hate food preparation of any kind.

There's not much here that would cause you to point to me and say, "That woman makes her own pesto."  In fact, there's not much here that would lead you to believe I even like the stuff.

I am, however, an infernal optimist, a bit creative, somewhat impulsive, and always on the lookout for ways to get Spouse 1.0 to eat his vegetables.

And, that's how I got into making pesto. 

One day I was walking by the organic basil at T-Jo, and the thought flitted through my head, "I could make pesto for Spouse 1.0!"

Why anyone who had never owned a jar of it, routinely scraped it off sandwiches, and probably had never even tasted it would suddenly decide to start making it is still a mystery. 

But, I was sure I could make pesto, and I was absolutely certain he'd love it. (Did I mention that I can be a little impulsive and a bit optimistic?)

So. I did.

And, he did!

And, now, I'm a basil geek. Totally in love with the varieties available: Italian, Greek, lemon, lime, cinnamon, purple ruffly, jade, opal...

Today, the CSA brought me an abundance of cilantro. (Alas, no basil of any nationality, flavor, or gemstone.)

So, I made cilantro pesto. 

About 60% cilantro, 40% Italian basil (from my T-Jo potted plant). Pepitas. Olive oil. Pecorino romano. Garlic.  Lime juice. Salt, cumin, and chipotle. 

Spouse 1.0's comment?  "It's good. I like it." 

 



Adventures in Leftover Relish, Part 2

Having mostly gotten rid of the cran-apple-orange relish, I was still faced with a tub of the yummy but soon-to-be-fermenting cranberry salsa.

No tips online for using that up.

And, oh, by the way, the avocados I'd bought to use on the Thanksgiving salad but forgot to use were sitting on the counter, turning very, very ripe.

avocado. cranberry salsa. avocado. cranberry salsa.  hmm...

Spouse 1.0 used to love the cranberry salsa at La Salsa.  He'd eat it on food that had avocado in it.  The food might be soft tacos, which were made with corn masa, which is kinda like cornmeal, which is kinda like blue cornmeal.

Sounds like blue cornbread to me!

Except, with green avocado, blue-gray cornmeal, and cranberry-red salsa, what color would it really be?

Was I insane? Desperate? I don't know. But, Spouse ate it and liked it. And, coworker Nick said, "Yummm" when he ate it. So, maybe it's not quite as weird as it looks.

Nah, it's pretty weird.  I think I'll need to keep thinking about ways to use up leftover cranberry salsa.

Ack. Bad lighting.  It actually looked a lot rosier than this.

Adventures in Leftover Relish, Part 1

I won't speak of the half turkey Spouse 1.0 and I were left with after our Thanksgiving guests had departed.  That's another story.

Instead, let's talk about cranberry relish.

There are probably at least 100 ideas for using leftover cranberry sauce out there. Many of them say something like, "Pour relish over goat cheese for a lovely appetizer."

Sorry, cranberry sauce over goat cheese is one of the myriad leftovers I'm trying to use up.

Or, "Use it in muffins". Did that. Last year. Didn't like it.

And, all the recipes talk about ways to use up normal cranberry relish.  Well, one of the tubs of leftover relish is kinda normal: Raw cran-apple-orange relish. 

But.

None of the 100 ways to use up leftover cranberry sauce talk about what to do with a tub of leftover cranberry salsa.  Yummy, yummy stuff. But, even Spouse 1.0's love of cranberry salsa can't get it used up before it rots.

So, I was on my own for what to do with my two tubs of leftover relish.

I decided to make jam bars with the tub of cran-apple-orange relish. 

Funny thing about jam bar recipes: When I had absolutely no interest in making jam bars, it seemed like every GF cookbook, magazine, and blog had a GF jam bar recipe.  But, when I went to look through my dozens of cookbooks & mags, and hundreds of printouts from blogs, no jam bar recipe. Except for dear old Roben Ryberg's cookie cookbook.  But, her recipe didn't use oats.  I wanted a jam bar recipe that used oats.

So, I pulled out my trusty, albeit glutenacious, Better Homes cookbook. And, there it was: A nice, oaty bar cookie recipe that was exactly what I was looking for.  Started converting that bad boy to GF. Yeah.

And. I couldn't find the GF oats.  I'd kind of re-arranged and tidied and generally hidden things for Thanksgiving. My GF oats were somewhere underneath and behind who-knows-what. Luckily, the quinoa flakes were handy. So, Quinoa Flake Cran-Apple-Orange Doncha-Just-Relish-Them Jam Bars it is.

Ingredients:

1 1/4 to 1 1/2 cup leftover cran-apple-orange relish
About 1-2 tsp potato starch
100 grams GF blend flour of choice (about 3/4 cup)
28 grams cashew meal or blanched almond meal (about 1/4 cup)
110 grams quinoa flakes (1 cup)
160 grams organic cane sugar (2/3 cup)
3/4 tsp xanthan gum
1/4 tsp baking soda
4 oz butter, softened (1/2 cup)
Optional: 1/4 to 1/3 cup chopped walnuts

Directions:

1. Preheat oven to 350 and lightly spritz a 9" square pan with coconut oil spray.
2. Heat relish in a small saucepan until it starts to boil a little. Remove from heat, let partially cool, and sprinkle on the potato starch. Stir and let cool while you do everything else.
3. Make crust by mixing dry ingredients, then working in the butter with your fingertips. 
4. Reserve 1/2 cup lightly packed of the crust mixture.
5. Press remaining crust mixture into the pan.
6. Spread the relish mixture over the crust mixture.
7. Add nuts to the reserved crust mixture, then sprinkle over everything.
8. Bake about 1/2 hour until the top is golden. Cool, cut into bars, and enjoy.

Heavily adapted from the Fruit-filled Oatmeal Bars recipe in Better Homes and Gardens New Cookbook, 10th edition.
 

They went fast.

Muffin Planning

My affair with savory muffins continues.
 
I did take a brief break to visit my sister in Mesa, and then made some BBQ turkey meatloaf muffins, then some oatmeal muffins to give The Spouse a break from the savories.  And then I was getting low on cookies.

But, now my muffin machinations are back.  I've been thinking about The Next Muffin all day. 

I'm approaching this one top down: It all starts with the streusel. 

Sage.

Fresh sage is wonderful.  I have three different sage plants growing in my windowsill.  All small, none doing well. One that's been getting white spots on the leaves.  But, I think between the three plants, even with avoiding the white spots, I have enough sage. 

Nuts.

Pine nuts? Pecans? Walnuts? Cashews? Almonds? Macadamias? Sunflower seeds? (Technically, not a nut, but usable in a nutly context.)  With sage, almost certainly walnuts.

Fat.

Olive oil? Sunflower? Walnut? Sesame? Organic shortening? Butter?  Needs to complement the sage, but should also help provide structure to the streusel.  Since I'm not using a cheese in the streusel, probably butter.

Now, down to the muffin: Muffins are comprised of grains, the egg, the liquid, the fat, leavening, maybe an acid, and the seasonings.

Grains.

You can do a blend, or you can have a main grain and then adjunct grain(s).  This is a muffin that calls for  a main grain.  The adjuncts will be easy: brown rice, sorghum, tapioca, and potato starch. But the main grain.... blue cornmeal? Cooked millet? Millet flour?   This time: Cooked millet.

Egg.

Organic. Cage free. No substitutes.

Liquid.

Definitely starting with applesauce.  Unsweetened. Organic. Funny thing about applesauce: I've seen recipes where folks use it to substitute for fat, for egg, for sweetener.  Pretty much the Universal Ingredient. I'm using it for the liquid.

Fat.

Not butter. We don't want the muffin to be about the butter. It's about the sage streusel. So, in the muffin itself... Olive oil would complement the sage, but may not work with the applesauce.  Sunflower oil would complement the applesauce, but might be too boring. Maybe this would be a good day to open that bottle of walnut oil.

Leavening.

The basic millet muffin recipe I'm starting from uses both baking powder and soda. And because it has baking soda, it needs either cream of tartar or...

Acid.

Lemon juice? Lime juice? Orange juice? Apple cider vinegar? Rice vinegar?  Probably lemon juice. Maybe rice vinegar.

Seasonings.

Salt & pepper, of course.  No sage, because we don't want to draw attention from the streusel. But, we need to have something to give the muffin some flavor.  Maybe a few fresh thyme leaves, some parsley, and the tiniest bit of dried rosemary.  No garlic this time around.  Onion?   Not sure.

Well, anyway, that's the plan. At least, the beginnings of one.

Cookie Dough Thoughts on a Rainy Sunday

We were getting low on cookies, so I had to take a break from my muffin obsession to mix up a batch of cookie dough.  It's been a while since I made quinoa nut butter cookies...

It's a wonder to be able to mix the flour while the stand mixer just stands there, patiently and faithfully creaming butter and nut butter and raw sugar and other sweet things.

Dump in the dry stuff, and the mixer mixes while I tidy up a thing or two.  And, voila! The exquisite, almost painfully beautiful lightness and fluffiness of cookie dough.

It's silly of me to feel proud.  God invented quinoa, and honey, and maple syrup, and pecans, and all the other goodness.  I didn't invent the Kitchen Aid. I didn't even invent the original quinoa cookie recipe. 

All I did was change up the nut butters and the sweet things and add an extra splash of vanilla.  I can't take credit for the skills needed to make the cookies.  God gave me the ability to learn the skills, and He gave me what little creativity was needed to change up the recipe.

Every good and every perfect gift is from above.

Which makes me wonder at intellectual property.  Is our intellectual property really ours? Do we have any right to claim intellectual property rights, when our very intellect isn't ours, but a gift? Maybe even just a loan?

Tastes Like... Chemicals

In the pre-healthy-food days of yore, one of the big treats of road trips was seasoned curly fries.  You know how it is: You make a potty stop at a fast food place, but since rest rooms are really only for customers, you need to make some sort of obligatory purchase to justify your status as a customer.

Our go-to purchase was seasoned curly fries.  We'd get an order and share it.  Extra salt. Yummm. We never bought seasoned curly fries in real life. Only on road trips.

And, plain fries were medicine. They were the thing to eat when one's stomach was revolting.

So, last Thursday we were on our way home from Sacramento, and something I'd eaten had left my stomach in that delicate, needing plain fries state.  

We got to our final gas and Starbucks stop at West Laval Road, and Spouse suggested I get some fries.

I'd heard that fast-food fries are often cooked in grease shared with gluteny items, and some fries are coated in a "modified starch" -- i.e., gluten.  So, if I got some, he couldn't have any.  I hate eating things in front of him that he can't have.  It just seems mean.

He assured me that, since plain fries are medicine, he'd have no temptation.

So, across the parking lot I went to the fast food purveyor to buy one order of plain fries. Got back in the car, opened the bag, and grabbed a small hand full. 

My stomach was looking forward to the soothing combination of crispy moist potato and salt.

I lifted the fries to my mouth, opened my lips, and inserted the long, tender strands of starchy, salty, greasy goodness. 

Brought my teeth down on them, crushing their crisp outsides, and unleashing their potato-ey insides.

I began chewing, anticipating the soothing, gentle flavor of....

...chemicals.

Chemicals???

The (bleep) things tasted like... chemicals!!

Where was the starchy salty stomach-soothing goodness I'd remembered?

Insanity is doing the same thing over and over, expecting different results.  And, there's nothing like an upset stomach on a road trip to make one slightly insane.  So, I took two more bites.

And then came to my senses. Rolled the top of the bag closed, set it on the floor board, and tossed it when we got home.

The good news is, the chemicals didn't make my stomach worse. 

The other good news is, this particulare fast food purveyor posts its ingredients online.  Just in case you were wondering, some of the ingredients in their fries include:

• natural beef flavor (including hydrolized wheat and hydrolyzed milk)
• dextrose
• sodium acid pyrophosphate
• citric acid
• dimethylpolysiloxane
• hydrogenated soybean oil with THBQ

 Yumm.

But, what's a THBQ?  And, do I really want to know?

Actually, this fast food purveyor gets points for posting their ingredients online.  And, they do have some food items that just include food.   Too bad that fries aren't among their food-only foods.

April Fool's Day Breakfast

When I saw that April Fool's Day was on a Friday this year, my first thought was, "April Fool's Day! Wow, what a cool day for doing a themed breakfast."

So, I immediately snagged it as MINE.

And, my next thought was, "OK, so... now... how exactly do you turn food into an April Fool's Day joke?

Start with Black Bean Brownies. I did a trial run, and sure enough, they were edible.

Then, one day I added some cheese to some millet I was making for The Spouse, and realized I had just invented Cheese Not Really Grits.

The menu was starting to take shape.

I noticed a recipe for eggless scrambled eggs in a library book.... made with tofu, colored egg-ishly with turmeric, and seasoned with enough onion, garlic, and mushroom to hide the tofu-ieness.

And, oddly enough, scrambled tofu wasn't awful. Probably because of all the onion and garlic.

Now, the only thing missing from the menu was fruit. I always bring fruit. It's expected. But, how on earth can fruit be deceptive?

It can't. Fruit is just fruit.

I racked my brains. I may have wracked them, too.

Options:

• Do normal fruit,  resulting in 25% of the menu not fitting the theme
• Skip the fruit, violating my self-imposed fruit rule

Nope. Neither option was acceptable.

More racking.

A friend pointed out that tomatoes are fruit. Good point, but everyone knows that tomatoes are fruit. She also reminded me that avocados are fruit. 

Now we're getting somewhere. Tomato & avocado salad. Expensive, lots of work, but maybe.

Then, last week, browsing through another library book, a blinding flash of the obvious: Rhubarb is a Vegetable!!!

Yah... Rhubarb with strawberries. Glorious! 

I'll skip the details of the rhubarb quest. Suffice it to say, when you add the value of the time spent searching, miles traveled, and cost of two 10-oz bags of the frozen vegetable, you've got a dollar amount exceeding the average American's life savings.

And so, the April Fool's Day menu is complete.

Happy April Fool's day!

Microwaveless Cooking for Six

As I was blissfully rhapsodizing over the joys of the microwaveless lifestyle, and how I can get door to table in under 20 minutes, someone pointed out that they have a family of 6. 

Wow, feeding 6 people without a microwave sounds a lot scarier than feeding 2 people without one. But then, feeding 6 people sounds a lot scarier than feeding 2, no matter how you slice it. 


Make a salad, and you're washing an awful lot of lettuce. Toast? Even if you've got a fancy, new-fangled 4-slice toaster, feeding your family breakfast could easily take until noon.

So, can feeding 6 without a microwave be done?

Treading dangerous territory here, since I've never had kids (outside of a classroom).  I'd be an idiot to say I've got it all figured out and let me tell you how to live your life even though I have absolutely no experience with that life.

There was a reasonably famous fundamentalist/evangelical guru back in the '70's who did that. My husband and I still bear the scars. Luckily, that story has nothing to do with food.

So, back to food and feeding big families without a microwave...

Yup, I'd be an idiot to say I know how to feed larger groups of people without a microwave. I do it when we have company, or when it's my turn for breakfast at work. But, not on a day-to-day basis.

Now, my mom? She knew something about this. She died at the ripe old age of 44.5 without ever having owned a microwave.

Mom came from a family of 7 kids, and as the oldest, she had to do a lot of the cooking. On a wood stove, even.  She never quite outgrew the cooking for 9 (plus drop-in guests) mentality, even when our family had dwindled down to 3 people, one of whom only ate bologna sandwiches.

A big stock pot was the most indispensible item in her kitchen. She was the queen of stovetop casseroles.
 
Some of the things she used to make:
 
Soup beans and cornbread.  When you grow up in the Great Depression way back in the hills of Kentucky, and dad works in the mines and you are feeding nine people, most of whom are over 6 feet tall, you eat a lot of beans and cornbread.  I didn't care much for the way mom made cornbread, but her beans were superb.  Pintos, usually mixed with some type of white bean.  A ham hock (I don't even know what a ham hock is, or where you'd get one.  I just know she used them, and they were gooood.)  I can't remember what-all else. Did she use onions and celery?  I don't know. I do know that you can feed a lot of people for a long time on soup beans and cornbread.
 
Burgoo.  This probably means "hamburger goulash." Only, it wasn't really a Hungarian goulash. It was hamburger, macaroni, and tomatoes cooked with onion, garlic, and other seasonings. Almost certainly celery seed, oregano, bay leaves, paprika.  Think spaghetti, but all in one pot.
 
Spaghetti. Think burgoo, just made with spaghetti instead of macaroni.
 
Hamburger and cabbage casserole. Sort of like unrolled cabbage rolls. Hamburger, tomato, onion, herbs and spices, a little rice, and lots of sliced cabbage.  Yeah, the house might smell a little cabbagey, but it also smelled of all that other good stuff.  Mom's hamburger and cabbage casserole would make a cabbage-eater out of even the snobbiest of cabbage-disdainers.
 
Chili. Oh, my. Mom's chili. Yeah, that was definitely one-pot good eatin'. Sometimes she'd add a little macaroni as it was nearing completion. Slightly overdone pasta added to a rather nice mix of textures.
 
Hamburger soup.  Start with a quart or two of canned tomatoes, add chopped onion, celery, bay leaf, herbs and spices, and all that. After it gets to boiling, crumble the raw hamburger in and add the potatoes and carrots.  Add any other vegetables.  I always liked green beans, corn, zucchini. Cauliflower was OK. Broccoli just didn't belong, in my opinion.
 
Turkey feather soup.  After a holiday meal, mom would boil up the turkey carcass, and instead of straining it to make a clear stock like people do nowadays, she'd just pick the meat off the bones after they'd boiled a while, throw in some additional leftover turkey meat, add potatoes, vegs, and seasonings, and there you have it: Dinner.  One time my ex-step-father once came in when mom was making the soup and grumbled that she'd find a way to cook the feathers from the turkey if she could. So, from then on, we called it turkey feather soup.
 
She also sometimes did split pea soup or corn chowder, plus the usual (and sometimes unusual) assortment of oven casseroles and multi-pot meals. But, the above one-pot wonders were Mom's convenience food staples of choice, and she could feed an army of 6 or 16 with them.

Bread!

One of the biggest barriers to the gluten-free life for Spouse 1.0 has been the thought that, if he fully embraces the lifestyle, it's good-bye forever to really yummy breads.

A life without the crusty, chewy goodness of sourdough bread is about as incomprehensible for him as a life without Diet Dr. Pepper once seemed to me.

Some of the commercial gluten-free breads are interesting and tasty, in their own brick-like way. Food for Life's brown rice and pecan bread is actually quite good, especially when toasted and drowning in melted butter.

But, Spouse needs real bread. Fresh and chewy, not frozen.  Bread-snob approved.

So, I've been reading about gluten free bread. And reading. And reading.

None of it has been terribly encouraging. GF flours are less forgiving than wheat flours. You need a special bread machine with a GF cycle -- but, the reviews of such machines tend to be.... well... mixed. Or, you need a programmable bread machine -- and, you have to program it. Or, you need to intercept your old-fashioned bread machine before the dough rises a second time. Or, you need to use the basic cycle and be prepared for bread that's not really all that good. 

Failure looms at every turn.

Expensive failure, since most GF flours cost between $.75 and $1.85 per cup.

But, last week I stumbled upon Red Star yeast's site. They have recipes for GF breads that, mercifully, use standard, garden-variety GF flours like rice, tapioca, and potato. And, they had a recipe for sourdough starter.

So, Friday night I went to Henry's to get white rice flour and a cooking thermometer.  I started the starter, then nurtured it all weekend long. Lovingly stirring it, keeping it warm and safe and clean. 

The Spouse hauled the old Oster bread machine in from the garage.  I poured over the manual, comparing my machine's features against all the cautions and advice in my new GF breads cookbook.

Finally, this morning, the starter was ready.

I followed the recipe -- mostly.  I was getting low on white rice flour, so I substituted some brown rice flour.  We didn't have powdered milk, and we aren't supposed to have cow's milk, anyway. So, I substituted almond milk for the water, and added a tiny drizzle more than the recipe called for. The egg replacer was optional, so I left it out.

I set the machine on the dough cycle.  When it was done, I put it on the bake cycle. When that was done, tested the temperature. It was only 160, so I left the bread in the hot machine for a few more minutes. Tested again. 185. That was probably close enough to 200. I hoped.

Removed it from the pan, cooled it, sliced it, and....

BREAD!!!

It looked, smelled, felt, and tasted like bread!

It wasn't the yummy chewy crusty goodness you get at your favorite seafood restaurant, but it was very, very good.

And, it only took me an entire weekend to make it.

Thank you, Red Star.

http://www.redstaryeast.com/best_recipes/37/7/GF-Sourdough-Starter
http://www.redstaryeast.com/best_recipes/39/7/GF-Sourdough-White-Bread

Noodle Pudding, Sort Of

I made the mistake of buying some gluten-free pasta that was not Tinkyada a couple of weeks ago. It was on sale at Henry's for a really irresistible price.

Unfortunately, the pasta itself turned out to be pretty resistible.

It wasn't awful. It just didn't hold up well. It turned to mush -- as I'd been warned that all non-Tinkyada gluten free pasta would.

I got to thinking about noodle kugel, and how it's kinda sorta like baked french toast or strata: Eggs and dairy and such mixed with starchy stuff and baked. 

I had 4 ounces of the pasta spirals left, so why not make a small pasta pudding, kinda sorta like noodle kugel, for the Spouse?

So, I cooked the pasta. It was really nice not having to worry about cooking it for exactly the right number of minutes. If underdone, it'd cook some more when I put the eggy goo on it and baked it. If overdone, the eggy goo would disguise it.

Next, I tossed in some dried cranberries and some frozen ones.  Mixed a large egg with 1/2 cup almond milk; dashes of cinnamon, nutmeg, & cloves; a splash of vanilla; and a tablespoon of raw sugar.

Poured the eggy goo over the pasta and baked it in the toaster oven at 350 for about 40 minutes.

It came out surprisingly good for being such lousy pasta.  Looking forward to seeing if Spouse 1.0 likes it.

Lament for a Messy Kitchen

In my first hour and a half of wakefulness this morning I had breakfast, cooked rice, started a recipe of rice pudding in the crock pot, halved and scraped two baby pumpkins, put the aforementioned pumpkins in the convection oven to roast, loaded the dishwasher, and hand washed the dishes needing that.

And, my kitchen is a mess.

Actually, since I've started cooking, the kitchen is always a bit cluttered and messy.

Not dirty.

I simply could not abide that. 

Crumbs, food bits, sticky spots.  Ewwww. No way.

But, it is messy.

Dishes draining.  Butter softening. Pudding cooking. Pumpkins roasting. Recipes standing ready.

My kitchen is a mess of verbs. 

That's probably what makes it tolerable. If it were a nounly mess, I think I'd go ballistic.

I suspect that when my spouse wakes up, he'll just see nouns. Lots of 'em.  All over the place.

But, when he smells the pumpkin and tastes the pudding, maybe he'll embrace the verbs.  And help me tidy up some of the nouns.

Cookie Extravaganza

I'm turning into Alice.

Alice was my friend Rose's mom.  Alice lived through the Great Depression, and was extremely frugal.  So, Alice made everything from scratch.  She never, ever bought a store-bought anything if a little time and effort could cause that thing to be grown, dried, canned, frozen, baked, or otherwise manufactured at home.

Alice made her own soap. She used lard and lye.  It smelled kind of.... lardy, but when I used her soap, I had the best skin.

Another thing Alice made was cookies.  She would periodically bake batches and batches and then freeze them. I'd drop by to hang out with Rose, and Alice would pull a ginormous Tupperware container out of the freezer.  Icebox cookies. Snickerdoodles. And, what eventually became my favorite: Cornmeal cookies.

I haven't started making my own lye soap (yet), but this weekend I did make cookies.

Two batches. If I were really channeling Alice, this weekend's cookie extravaganza would have included at least three kinds.

Of course, I froze most of them for future consumption.  In little Tupperware containers. 

Because Spouse 1.0 is supposed to go gluten-free, I was experimenting with recipes using oat flour and brown rice flour.

G-free flours are, according to my cookbook, a lot less forgiving than wheat. Precise measurement is essential; experimentation is discouraged. And, my cookbook contains recipes for neither snickerdoodles nor cornmeal cookies.

Probably just as well that it doesn't contain a cornmeal cookie recipe. The spouse is only permitted organic blue cornmeal, not white or yellow.  I'm thinking blue cornmeal cookies might not look very cookie-like.

So, Friday night's cookies were oatmeal, made with whole oats and oat flour.  Think of them as oaty-oatmeal cookies.  The recipe called for raisins, which neither of us loves. But, the recipe said you could substitute chocolate chips. 

So, of course, I substituted dates & carob chips for the raisins, plus added a few pecans. 

Results:  A little cakey, but generally yummy. Mostly because of the carob chips and the pecans.

Today's cookies were peanut butter with rice flour. Except we aren't supposed to eat peanut butter. So, I substituted cashew butter. And, I substituted brown rice flour for the rice flour. But, other than that, I stuck to the recipe.

Results: A bit bland. 

Part of the problem: Cashews aren't peanuts. This is OK in Thai cashew sauce, where the flavor is supplemented by other strong ingredients. But, in peanut butter cookies, your strongest flavor is the peanut butter. So, with cookies you're a lot more aware of the fact that cashews aren't peanuts.

Another part of the problem: Rice flour is bland.  It just is. Even brown rice flour.

Third part of the problem: The recipe no doubt was formulated using normal commercial peanut butter, which contains lots of yummy salt and white sugar and hydrogenated oils and preservatives in addition to the peanuts.  The cashew butter contained... cashews.

This has ramifications on both taste (bland) and texture (a bit oily and cakey).

So, next time I'll try almond butter. Or use potato flour. Maybe add more salt and raw sugar.

But, in the meantime, we have cookies in the freezer.

Just like Alice.

The Joy of Eggs

My friend and acupuncturist Cathy raises chickens. The real kind. Like in the song "Cluck Old Hen." Free-range. Organic. Cage-free. Like great-grandma used to make.

Sometimes the squirrels and other free-range organic cage-free critters get to the eggs before Cathy can. Sometimes she gets to them first. And when she does, she likes to share.

Before I went all healthy, I didn't have much use for eggs.  They aren't microwave-friendly, and they aren't the protein-per-calorie bargain that cottage cheese is.  So, I used about 3 cartons of eggs per year, all on weeks when it was my turn to do Friday breakfast for the coworkers.

But, the new and improved microwaveless me loves eggs. Especially on those nights (like tonight) when I get home late and hungry and want food NOW.

Eggs were great-grandma's fast food. 

They were also Aunt Gail's.

I spent a summer with Aunt Gail when I was 12.  Aunt Gail worked in Hollywood as a manicurist, and she lived in Glendale. Even back then it wasn't a fun commute.  If microwaves existed, they didn't exist for people living on a manicurist's wages and tips.

So, five nights a week we had eggs and frozen hash browns for dinner. We probably had bacon or sausage, too.  Aunt Gail was, after all, a Southern girl. With her growing boy of a son and her 6'7" giant of a brother living with her, there was surely some meat.  But, it's the eggs and hash browns I remember. 

Every night.

Five nights a week.

All summer long.

I don't recall ever getting bored with that. It felt scandalous, avant-garde, and decadent to eat breakfast for dinner.

Every night.

Five nights a week.

All summer long.

And, now, I come home tired and hungry and grumpy from my commute, having done my fair share of, if not painting toes, at least trying not to step on them.  And, once in a while, it's still delightfully scandalous, a wee bit avante-garde, and deliciously decadent to eat breakfast for dinner. 

Especially when dinner is a couple of Cathy's free-range organic cage-free eggs.

In Praise of Ingredients

About 12 years ago our nephew lived with us.  His folks came to town, and we decided to meet here after work to go to dinner. Well, the folks arrived before we got home, and sis-in-law decided to bake something. She started rummaging around in my kitchen.  She was appalled to find no flour, no sugar, no eggs... no ingredients.

What kind of kitchen has no ingredients?

Mine of course.  I was very proud of my clean, lovely new kitchen, and I surely wasn't going to spoil it with cooking and ingredients and such.

Fast forward to Wednesday of this week.  Impending vendor meeting on Thursday, which happened to be the tech guy's birthday.

Wouldn't it be fun to have a cake!

But, after work I was too tired & hungry to go in search of said cake. And, Thursday's meetings were too early to plan a side trip on the way in.

What to do???

I could have given up on the cake concept. David would have preferred that. After all, nobody expected a cake.  Nobody needed a cake.

But, one of the things I learned from my friend Carol: A good project manager is always on the lookout for ways to make work fun.  And, birthday cakes are, by definition, fun.

Leafing through my trusty Better Homes and Gardens cookbook, there it was: A recipe for gingerbread that used ordinary flour, brown sugar, molasses, shortening, eggs, baking powder, baking soda, cinnamon, and ginger.

All stuff I had on hand.

None of which I had on hand the day Sis-in-law was rummaging through my cupboards.

So, before bed Wednesday I mixed up the dry ingredients.  Thursday morning after breakfast I mixed in the wet ingredients and put the gingerbread in to bake. 

I'd wanted a glaze for it, but didn't have powdered sugar.  So, I took some blenderized brown sugar and mixed with a splash of vanilla and a few teaspoons of almond milk.  Let that set while I went upstairs to shower.

After the shower, took the gingerbread out of the oven and let it cool while I dried my hair and did the makeup.

Back downstairs to drizzle glaze over the warm gingerbread. Loosely covered it, put on my sandals, and headed off to work, gingerbread in hand.

There are secret advantages to this healthy cooking thing:  You have ingredients, and cooking from scratch starts to to fit into your life -- even into those spaces where a trip to the supermarket would never go.

Confessions of an Idiot

It's pretty humbling to suddenly discover that you're an idiot.

I've always been a label reader. But, mostly I just looked at calories, protein, fats. It's sort of like claiming that you read the newspaper when all you really read is the comics and Dear Abbey.

So, today I started looking through my cupboard and really reading the ingredients lists. I quickly found five things to throw away. And, I equally quickly learned that I'm an idiot.

Below are some of the more um, interesting ingredients from among these five products.  Totals are in parentheses when more than one product contains the ingredient.

• Maltodextrin (4)
• "Natural flavor" (2)
• Tricalcium phosphate
• Partially hydrogenated soybean oil (2)
• "Spices" (2)
• Citric acid (3)
• Disodium guanylate (4)
• Disodium inosinate (4)
• Sulfiting agents
• Hydrolyzed corn protein (2)
• Autolyzed yeast extract (2)
• Silicon dioxide (2)
• Monosodium glutamate
• Yellow 6
• Red 40
• Hydrolyzed corn gluten
• Sodium caseinate

Yummy, huh? Just like grandma used to make.

Did I really think that disodium guanylate is FOOD? Did I really think that years of eating maltodextrin and sulfiting agents and silicon dioxide was harmless?

Spouse 1.0 does not share my horror or my outrage. So, he's not entirely enthusiastic about the idea of running off and joining an organic commune somewhere in Colorado.

But, at least he's not mad at me for poisoning him for the last 22.5 years.

Variety is the Bane of My Existence

When microwaving was my life, variety meant that the Green Box Food people had discontinued Grilled Chicken Sonoma, and I had to find a new favorite.  Or, the White Box Food people had changed up their formulation for Grilled Chicken Caesar, and I had to start subsisting on Mediteranean Chicken.

I could literally eat the same flavor of microwave dinner every night of every week -- for weeks on end.

So, now that I'm eating microwaveless and healthy(er), why can't I eat Green Olive Chicken every night of every week until they discontinue chickens?

I really, really like Green Olive Chicken. And, I like it even better now that I'm substituting Two Buck Chuck for the Fat Tire Ale the recipe originally called for.

But, no... some weird force compels me to cook different things.

Partly, that weird force is Spouse 1.0, who can eat a Starbucks sausage sandwich every morning of his life, but can't eat Green Olive Chicken more than three times in the same week.

And, partly that weird force is something inside me.

So, tonight I'm crock potting a roast and baking some Yukon gold potatoes. And, I'm wondering if tomorrow I can trick that weird force into thinking that Black Olive Chicken counts as different.

Nothing to Write Home About

Whenever my mother was not particularly impressed by something, she would comment, "It was nothing to write home about."

If Mom had been alive and present for last night's dinner, I know exactly what she would have said.

So, why am I writing about a dinner that was nothing to write home about? Consider it a cautionary tale.

It all started with the remaining two sirloin burger patties from Tuesday night. I still had some leftover brown basmati. I still had the yummy bean dip. I could have just replicated the prior night's success.

But, where's the adventure in that?

More rummaging in the cupboard. I have a supply of Trader Joe's organic fat free marinara because Spouse 1.0 likes to disguise his vegs in assorted sauces. I like to buy him marinara because then he smothers his vegs in yet more vegs so they won't taste like vegs.

So, let's break up the hamburger patties and heat them and the brown basmati in some marinara. It'll be like spaghetti, only without the trouble and mess of boiling pasta.

Nice in theory.

In practice, not so great.

Part of the problem is that rice is simply not spaghetti. And, brown rice (even if it is basmati) is especially not spaghetti.

But the biggest problem was the marinara, which tasted a bit metallic to me. Maybe it's the basil.

Adding visual insult to culinary injury, the colors and texture of the medley... Let's just say I was glad the Spouse had been raised to keep his descriptive similes to himself when confronted with ugly food.

Just to be safe, I hid his under a blanket of melted low fat cheddar.

Menu:

• Sirloin burger and rice reheated in marinara
• Big bowl of vegies

Nutrition:

• About 300 calories for her and 600 for him

Results:

• Nothing to write home about

In Praise of Cuban Black Bean Dip

Last night I was experimenting with the concept of cooking ground meat for dinner.
My mom used to make elaborate stove top casseroles with ground beef. She also made an incredible hamburger soup. These things would take hours. And, they'd require chopping. I don't do chopping. Especially not on week nights.

So, I took the pound of ground sirloin out of the fridge, shaped it into 4 semi-rectangular patties, just right for cooking 2 at a time in the smaller of my two skillets. Put 'em on to cook. Started the vegs.
When the two burgers were done, I set 'em aside, then grabbed my leftover brown basmati rice and threw it in the skillet. Added a little water & covered it.
Now, what to do to make the rice less... boring?
I rummaged in the cupboard and found some Cuban black bean dip I'd picked up on impulse at Fresh and Easy a few months ago. Unlike most of the things in my cupboard, it wasn't so far past its use by date that I couldn't use it.

I checked the label: No verboten ingredients. Not organic, but at least no MSG, nitrates, nitrites, corn derivatives, wheat, or anything unpronounceable and unspellable. Mostly stuff you might put in your own Cuban black bean dip, if you were inclined to do that sort of thing.

When Spouse 1.0 opened the jar, it gave a satisfying pop. Not rotten. So far, so good.
I put a glop or two of it on the rice and smooshed it in, replaced the lid. An appetizing aroma wafted through the kitchen as it heated up.

Menu:

• Sirloin burger, about 4 oz pre-cooked weight per person
• 1/3 cup rice and black bean mixture for me, about 1 cup for Spouse
• 1 large bowl full of vegies per person

Nutrition:

• Probably about 300 or 350 calories for her, 500 to 600 for him

Results:

• Heavenly! I'll definitely do this one again.

Yet Another Food Blog???

A week and half ago, my voodoo doctor told me to go microwaveless.

Microwaveless?

My lifestyle is all about microwaves. In the morning, I microwave my water to make instant oatmeal.

At work, I microwave my Green Box Food entree. In the plastic tray. Despite all the dire warnings from my coworkers.

At 4 PM, I microwave a bag of frozen vegs (my "snackies").

At dinner time, I microwave mine & my spouse's White Box Food entrees. Again in the dreaded plastic tray.

When we travel, we stay at hotels with fridges & microwaves in the room so we can microwave even more.

Well, the voodoo doc promises health and well-being, so I'm motivated. I wake up every morning, face the stove, and remind myself, "You lived without a microwave for the first 27 years of your life. You can do this."

Adding insult to injury, the voodoo doc gave me & Spouse 1.0 other onerous food restrictions. But, I'm motivated, right?

I'll give it a month. You can do anything for a month, right?

And, a week and a half into this, I'm discovering that it's perversely fun to try to make this work. So, check back as my friends and I explore quick and easy food that is...

• Low calorie
• Fast
• Microwaveless
• Corn-free (at least white & yellow corn free)
• Sometimes gluten free
• Usually contains no pasteurized cow's milk (but might contain other dairy)
• Nitrate & Nitrite free
• Artificial sweetener free
• Usually contains no white sugar

It's an adventure.