I love risotto. It's absolutely bulletproof (and by bulletproof I mean foolproof). I like it because it's easy and other than a little babysitting it's pretty easy once it gets going.
Here's how you make risotto:
1 onion
2 cloves garlic
Any vegetable you like (frozen peas, asparagus cut into bite-sized chunks, jarred roasted red peppers, canned artichoke hearts...)
Rice (1 1/2 cups or more)
1/2 cup-1 cup dry white wine
5-6 cups stock (vegetable is our go-to now that we're pseudo-vegetarian, but chicken works too)
Salt, pepper
Parmesan cheese (lots)
Small pat of butter
1. Chop an onion
2. Sauté in a pan on medium heat with either olive oil or butter until glossy.
3. Add some chopped garlic, sauté for another moment or so.
4. Add any vegetables you want, sauté a few minutes more to get it all cooked up.
5. Add dry rice (1 1/2 cups in most recipes, but John and I eyeball it depending on how hungry we are/how many leftovers we want), stir until glossy and coated in oil.
6. Add 1/2 cup-1 cup of dry white wine; cook until almost entirely absorbed.
7. Add about 1/2 cup-1 cup of vegetable stock at a time (eyeball it; for god's sake don't get out the measuring cup); cook until almost entirely absorbed, stirring every now and then to get all the rice cooking in the liquid.
8. Repeat step 7 until you've used all the stock.
9. Salt and pepper to taste (depending on whether you have low-sodium stock or not)
10. Throw in a pat of butter right at the end; stir.
11. Take off the heat; add a bunch of parmesan cheese and stir in so it's melted in and wonderful.
Seems like a lot of steps, but it's really easy and once you make it once it's like riding a bike. You can throw in any vegetable you like and it works (though I generally don't do as much with the leafy greens in this one, because they disintegrate so much during the long simmering process. But that can be good too!).
The next day, to make it seem like you're making a different dinner, you can roll it into spheres and coat those suckers in breadcrumbs and fry them up on a pan. Delicious and resourceful!
(I am indebted to the Cooking for Two cookbook that has an awesome artichoke heart risotto, and the Cozy Kitchen Blog, which gave me the idea to make leftover risotto cakes).
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Sunday Night Pop Tarts
But of course. It's Sunday night, we're all tired of studying and paper writing. Grab a lame box of pop tarts so the sugar fuels your brain, which thrives, after all, on glucose.
WRONG. I'm friggin' baking them from scratch. Just pulsed the flour and the butter with a little salt and sugar in the food processor. Wha-BAM. Dough chilling in fridge, waiting for me to roll it out in a bit once it firms up (and I've read another article on aesthetics and musical narrativity).
I would take pictures, but I'm no food photographer. Also, it's night time. Not really optimal light for this. Not like here, in the recipe.
Now, granted, we have barely a scrape of Nutella left in the fridge, and it's not exactly top shelf strawberry jam (I'm looking at you, Kroger brand strawberry preserves). But it will do, and the homemade pastry will set it all to rights.
It's super easy.
Here's two versions for y'all, so I'll make it in the form of a choose your own adventure:
Pg. 1
After a long day of reading and many, many pages, you decide not to read that Tarasi essay on musical narrativity in Chopin that was on your to-do list, and you find yourself in your kitchen, craving something with strawberry in it. You decide to make homemade pop tarts.
Do you:
a) Decide to make the puff pastry from scratch? If so, go to pg. 2
or b) Find an easier way? If so, go to pg. 3
Pg. 2
The make your own pastry dough version
2 cups flour
1/2 tsp. salt
1 3/4 tsp. sugar (I used vanilla sugar, because I'm obsessed with it)
2 sticks (!) of butter, cubed up (cubing it was the fun part. I cut it in thirds twice to make a little 9x9 grid then sliced thin pats off. Perfect cubes!)
Pulse this all in a food processor until it resembles dough. Or, if you're me, knead it all together with your (clean) hands until it comes together. Stick it in the fridge for a half hour to an hour.
While the dough chills, do you:
a) get back to your readings and set a timer? If so, go to pg. 4
or b) Waste time on the internet for half an hour to an hour? If so, go to pg. 4
Pg. 3
The busy grad student version)
Buy pre-made pie crust from store. Open tube, unroll.
Go to pg. 5
Pg. 4
Half an hour (or an hour) passes. You are either productive or you're not; that's between you and your Schopenhauer.
Go to pg. 5
Pg. 5
You roll out the dough on a floured surface, slice it with a small knife (or a pizza cutter) into rectangles, then place the rectangles on your cookie sheet. Spread a couple tablespoons of preserves, nutella, or any other desired fillings into the center. You can either put preserves to one side and fold a rectangle over on itself, or you can put preserves in the center and top it with a second rectangle of dough, depending on how much dough you want.
Crimp the edges a bit with a fork to try to seal it up. Poke a few holes in the top with a fork.
Bake at 375 degrees F for 25-30 minutes. Done.
Now GET BACK TO WORK!
WRONG. I'm friggin' baking them from scratch. Just pulsed the flour and the butter with a little salt and sugar in the food processor. Wha-BAM. Dough chilling in fridge, waiting for me to roll it out in a bit once it firms up (and I've read another article on aesthetics and musical narrativity).
I would take pictures, but I'm no food photographer. Also, it's night time. Not really optimal light for this. Not like here, in the recipe.
Now, granted, we have barely a scrape of Nutella left in the fridge, and it's not exactly top shelf strawberry jam (I'm looking at you, Kroger brand strawberry preserves). But it will do, and the homemade pastry will set it all to rights.
It's super easy.
Here's two versions for y'all, so I'll make it in the form of a choose your own adventure:
Pg. 1
After a long day of reading and many, many pages, you decide not to read that Tarasi essay on musical narrativity in Chopin that was on your to-do list, and you find yourself in your kitchen, craving something with strawberry in it. You decide to make homemade pop tarts.
Do you:
a) Decide to make the puff pastry from scratch? If so, go to pg. 2
or b) Find an easier way? If so, go to pg. 3
Pg. 2
The make your own pastry dough version
2 cups flour
1/2 tsp. salt
1 3/4 tsp. sugar (I used vanilla sugar, because I'm obsessed with it)
2 sticks (!) of butter, cubed up (cubing it was the fun part. I cut it in thirds twice to make a little 9x9 grid then sliced thin pats off. Perfect cubes!)
Pulse this all in a food processor until it resembles dough. Or, if you're me, knead it all together with your (clean) hands until it comes together. Stick it in the fridge for a half hour to an hour.
While the dough chills, do you:
a) get back to your readings and set a timer? If so, go to pg. 4
or b) Waste time on the internet for half an hour to an hour? If so, go to pg. 4
Pg. 3
The busy grad student version)
Buy pre-made pie crust from store. Open tube, unroll.
Go to pg. 5
Pg. 4
Half an hour (or an hour) passes. You are either productive or you're not; that's between you and your Schopenhauer.
Go to pg. 5
Pg. 5
You roll out the dough on a floured surface, slice it with a small knife (or a pizza cutter) into rectangles, then place the rectangles on your cookie sheet. Spread a couple tablespoons of preserves, nutella, or any other desired fillings into the center. You can either put preserves to one side and fold a rectangle over on itself, or you can put preserves in the center and top it with a second rectangle of dough, depending on how much dough you want.
Crimp the edges a bit with a fork to try to seal it up. Poke a few holes in the top with a fork.
Bake at 375 degrees F for 25-30 minutes. Done.
Now GET BACK TO WORK!
Perfume...sigh
Love this article so much. It is an interview with a perfumer about the process of creating a perfume, and it was such a fun read!
I have a weird love of perfumes. It's more of a vicarious love, though. I am pretty loyal to the few scents I own. But I adore reading descriptions of perfumes on websites and trying to imagine what they smell like. Anthropologie always has great scent descriptions for the perfumes they carry.
The first perfume I fell in love with was Auric Blends' roll on perfumes. I still have my original bottle, which has become my signature: One Love. It's such a lovely scent, and seems to linger so nicely on my skin. It's sweet without being cloying; the base is a deep vanilla. I just adore it and don't tend to stray.
I also had a love affair with Gap Scent Editions. I remember being in a huge Gap and standing in front of the display sniffing all the different perfumes, which were meant to be blended. I remember the one blend I loved was Sueded Musk with Silk Yuzu. I never bought the fragrance and it was one of those purchases I regretted never making. Years later, I thought of the scents and managed to track down the rollerball of Silk Yuzu on Ebay. It is pretty weak; the fruity, citrusy scent fades quickly. But I enjoy it all the same!
I then saw this article on the Wall Street Journal about orange blossom perfumes. It's an idea I had toyed with idly from time to time; wearing orange blossoms as perfume on my wedding day.
As I did my wedding research (nerd alert), I discovered that it was tradition in the early 20th century for brides to wear orange blossoms on their wedding day. Orange blossoms represent fertility because the orange trees flower year-round. Hooray for wedding research!
Even when orange blossoms weren't available, wax flowers were created and made into headdresses. Queen Victoria started the trend (just like she started the whole white dress thing).
So, at first I was looking into vintage pieces. But, once the venue was decided, I knew that a wax headdress in August might not work. I wouldn't want to ruin a vintage treasure! So then, my next thought was that I could nod to this tradition with perfume. If I find something based on orange blossoms, it would be a fun nod to the idea.
My first stop was to get Pacifica's Nerola Orange Blossom solid perfume.
The verdict? It was surprisingly bitter. I expected more citrusy sweetness, or at least a vaguely citrusy floral. I think it would have to be mixed with a more obvious orange for me to really fall for it. Perhaps the Tuscan Blood Orange perfume by the same company?
I ended up just wearing my signature scent. It's the most me, orange blossoms be damned! I felt beautiful that day no matter what details were left by the wayside.
I have a weird love of perfumes. It's more of a vicarious love, though. I am pretty loyal to the few scents I own. But I adore reading descriptions of perfumes on websites and trying to imagine what they smell like. Anthropologie always has great scent descriptions for the perfumes they carry.
The first perfume I fell in love with was Auric Blends' roll on perfumes. I still have my original bottle, which has become my signature: One Love. It's such a lovely scent, and seems to linger so nicely on my skin. It's sweet without being cloying; the base is a deep vanilla. I just adore it and don't tend to stray.
 |
| Heaven help me if they ever discontinue One Love! |
 |
| Gotta love the packaging; the perfume has a little cloth pouch with a button closure that then sits in a little box |
 |
| Beautiful photo by F. Martin Ramin for the Wall Street Journal, styling by Anne Cardenas |
As I did my wedding research (nerd alert), I discovered that it was tradition in the early 20th century for brides to wear orange blossoms on their wedding day. Orange blossoms represent fertility because the orange trees flower year-round. Hooray for wedding research!
Even when orange blossoms weren't available, wax flowers were created and made into headdresses. Queen Victoria started the trend (just like she started the whole white dress thing).
So, at first I was looking into vintage pieces. But, once the venue was decided, I knew that a wax headdress in August might not work. I wouldn't want to ruin a vintage treasure! So then, my next thought was that I could nod to this tradition with perfume. If I find something based on orange blossoms, it would be a fun nod to the idea.
My first stop was to get Pacifica's Nerola Orange Blossom solid perfume.
The verdict? It was surprisingly bitter. I expected more citrusy sweetness, or at least a vaguely citrusy floral. I think it would have to be mixed with a more obvious orange for me to really fall for it. Perhaps the Tuscan Blood Orange perfume by the same company?
I ended up just wearing my signature scent. It's the most me, orange blossoms be damned! I felt beautiful that day no matter what details were left by the wayside.
The Accidental Vegetarian, or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Grocery Bill
It was already well into the New Year's Eve festivities when my husband pulled me aside and said, in his most serious tone: "My New Year's resolution is to be vegetarian. So don't buy me any more meat!" In the ensuing hilarity (dancing wildly to LMFAO and Lady Gaga), it could have been forgotten. Only later the next day, sitting on the couch with some Pedialyte (yay electrolytes!), finally home again in Columbus after two weeks with our in-laws, did John bring it up again.
And so I accidentally became (mostly) vegetarian.
Yet, there wasn't a battle cry. We didn't rush into this project out of ideology, nor was the shift all that sudden. This change had been percolating for more than a year, with food documentaries and Michael Pollan books, with the introduction of new vegetables and methods and attempts to make vegetarian entrees that didn't leave us hungry. We had been trying to consume less meat, and to ensure that the meat we did consume was the highest quality, most humane product we could find. So we became more aware, and tried to shift our focus away from the poultry and pork as we continued to explore new recipes.
Yet, I wouldn't call myself a vegetarian to anybody who asked. Not only because I've cheated several times (the carnitas enchilada at Mad Mex will always call to me), but because I don't feel that I fit neatly into that categorization. I wouldn't ask other people to cater specially to me, and I do still want to make exceptions for fish now and then, or the occasional plate of pulled pork.
It's more of an exercise, a fun test of our culinary creativity and a way to experience some new foods. It's a mental exercise; planning meals and finding ways to make vegetarian versions of favorite meat dishes (chili, shepherd's pie, pad thai). I should also explain: we aren't tofu vegetarians. What I mean by that is, we didn't just take out meat and substitute tofu and soy-based replacements. I don't believe that's any healthier than eating meat.
As a part of this endeavor, John gave me the world's best Christmas present. He decided instead of material things that are quickly forgotten, he would give me the gift of time. His letter to me on Christmas morning mentioned cooking dinner together, unplugging our phones and our laptops, and spending real time together without the distractions of technology (though I would amend that to say it's still ok to play video games together or watch an interesting documentary as part of our quality time, but I agree the phones and laptops can turn off for the night).
Soon after, we were wandering in a book store, hunting the after-Christmas sales, and John was eyeing vegetarian cookbooks. I had the proverbial lightbulb over my head and suggested that the goal of the twice-monthly (or so) date nights could be to cook our way through a vegetarian cookbook.
Thus, we bought the brilliant Plenty by Yotam Ottolenghi. It has gorgeous pictures, and the recipes are all vegetarian, and rather daring. Some will be a test of our supermarkets (locating quail eggs, palm sugar, scarmorza cheese), some a test of our wallets (saffron, rare spice blends, expensive cheeses), but the results should be fascinating.
Up this week: Caramelized Garlic Tart, with Caramelized Fennel with Goat Cheese as a side. Wish us luck!
And so I accidentally became (mostly) vegetarian.
Yet, there wasn't a battle cry. We didn't rush into this project out of ideology, nor was the shift all that sudden. This change had been percolating for more than a year, with food documentaries and Michael Pollan books, with the introduction of new vegetables and methods and attempts to make vegetarian entrees that didn't leave us hungry. We had been trying to consume less meat, and to ensure that the meat we did consume was the highest quality, most humane product we could find. So we became more aware, and tried to shift our focus away from the poultry and pork as we continued to explore new recipes.
Yet, I wouldn't call myself a vegetarian to anybody who asked. Not only because I've cheated several times (the carnitas enchilada at Mad Mex will always call to me), but because I don't feel that I fit neatly into that categorization. I wouldn't ask other people to cater specially to me, and I do still want to make exceptions for fish now and then, or the occasional plate of pulled pork.
It's more of an exercise, a fun test of our culinary creativity and a way to experience some new foods. It's a mental exercise; planning meals and finding ways to make vegetarian versions of favorite meat dishes (chili, shepherd's pie, pad thai). I should also explain: we aren't tofu vegetarians. What I mean by that is, we didn't just take out meat and substitute tofu and soy-based replacements. I don't believe that's any healthier than eating meat.
As a part of this endeavor, John gave me the world's best Christmas present. He decided instead of material things that are quickly forgotten, he would give me the gift of time. His letter to me on Christmas morning mentioned cooking dinner together, unplugging our phones and our laptops, and spending real time together without the distractions of technology (though I would amend that to say it's still ok to play video games together or watch an interesting documentary as part of our quality time, but I agree the phones and laptops can turn off for the night).
Soon after, we were wandering in a book store, hunting the after-Christmas sales, and John was eyeing vegetarian cookbooks. I had the proverbial lightbulb over my head and suggested that the goal of the twice-monthly (or so) date nights could be to cook our way through a vegetarian cookbook.
Thus, we bought the brilliant Plenty by Yotam Ottolenghi. It has gorgeous pictures, and the recipes are all vegetarian, and rather daring. Some will be a test of our supermarkets (locating quail eggs, palm sugar, scarmorza cheese), some a test of our wallets (saffron, rare spice blends, expensive cheeses), but the results should be fascinating.
Up this week: Caramelized Garlic Tart, with Caramelized Fennel with Goat Cheese as a side. Wish us luck!
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