Experiments that Work!

Tonight's meal was an example of one of my favorite things about cooking: simple is usually as delicious and satisfying as complicated. Not to mention that these fabulous recipes can be made out of whatever happens to be lying around in the kitchen and cupboards.
After a weekend of lazily opting for meals out, I cooked not once, but twice today! Making up for lost time, if you will. I started in the afternoon with a loaf of whole wheat bread. I've discovered that store brought doesn't hold a candle to bread fresh out of the oven. Eventually I'll branch out and try to make more varieties of bread, but plain whole wheat is good enough for now.
When it was time for dinner, I used the bread in a recipe I've been thinking about for a few days now. I started with the bread cut into chunks and lightly brushed with olive oil. I heated them in a pan over med-high heat, toasting them on the stovetop. After adding broccoli, diced tomatoes, and feta cheese, I opted for garlic salt, black pepper, thyme, and oregano for the spices, trying to give it a nice Italian feel, and a pinch of brown sugar to cut the acidity of the tomatoes. I let the ingredients simmer for a bit, till the cheese was melted, the broccoli cooked through, and the bread a little browned. I added lettuce and some extra garlic salt after taking it off the heat.
Since this is a recipe I came up with on my own, I wasn't sure it would come out as I'd hoped, but victory! The bread was not quite as crispy as I'd have liked, but it was wonderfully flavorful. I think I might add an extra pinch of brown sugar next time, for the hint of sweetness it left was unexpectedly pleasant. And perhaps fresh garlic and basil leaves. Or, I'll leave it exactly the way it is, because it certainly was delicious. I'm not usually so pleased with my own creations, but this one turned out just right. I am looking forward to tweaking it in the future, trying different spices or switching up the variety of cheese I use.
It doesn't look the prettiest (my food rarely does), but I think it tasted good enough that its lack of visual appeal was more than made up for.

(Almost) Vegan Casserole

The great thing about living alone and cooking for only myself is that one recipe will feed me for four days or so. There are always plenty of leftovers. Conversely, the awful thing about living alone and cooking for myself is that one recipe will last for four or five days and there are always too many leftovers. I hate wasting food, but sometimes it's more than I can bear to eat the exact same thing night after night.
To that end, I want to try and add more freeze-friendly recipes to my repertoire: casseroles, soups, etc. That way I can enjoy the food at a later date, but not have to worry about eating it before it goes bad. The ice-box is a wonderful invention and I plan to fill it with all sorts of tasty, tasty treats.
My first attempt at a casserole is from the marvelous Vegan with a Vengeance cookbook by Isa Chandra Moskowitz, creator of the Post Punk Kitchen and goddess of all things vegan and delicious. Chickpea broccoli casserole, to be exact. Mmm. . .two things I absolutely love. And one of the best things about this kind of casserole? Ease of making. Chop, toss in pan, season, and ignore for the next hour or so.
Now, I always go into a recipe-making session intending to follow the recipe. I will add what Ms. Moskowitz has put on the ingredient list, season with the spices she has recommended, and keep it to what's on the page. But I've never been particularly good at obedience and so I ended up doing the casserole with my own additions. Someday I'll learn to follow a recipe, but not tonight. I'm sure Isa won't mind, so long as she doesn't find out that I've added. . .feta. I couldn't help it! I love cheese.
The original recipe in all it's simplistic glory is this: 1 lb chickpeas mashed, one onion, three large carrots (grated), chives, 4 cups broccoli, 1/2 cup of whole wheat breadcrumbs, 1 cup of vegetable broth, 3 tbsp olive oil, and 1 tsp salt. I added thyme, oregano, and crumbled feta. And some extra broccoli 'cause you can't have too much of those iron-filled dark greens.
While you're prepping the ingredients, preheat the oven to 350. After you've put everything in the pan (9x13), cover in foil and pop into the oven for 45 minutes. After 45 minutes, remove the foil and cook for another 15. Then eat it. And enjoy it.
Technically, this is listed as a side dish, but it's plenty filling for a main dish, in my opinion. It makes 6-8 servings. I ate what I wanted and the rest started my collection of foods to freeze. I am looking forward to having it there, waiting to be pulled out and enjoyed later, when I need a quick dinner or simply don't feel like cooking. Pictures below. Sure, it isn't the prettiest, but I assure you it's plenty delicious!

An Ode to the Grocery Store

I have to confess that I love grocery shopping.
It's a strange thing to enjoy, I suppose. Usually when someone loves to shop it's for clothes, shoes, books, media, or whatever their toy of choice is. But food? At a grocery store? Isn't that terribly. . .mundane. After all, it's a chore. It gets done to keep from starving, not for pleasure.
But I think it's fun; I always have.
My favorite time to grocery shop is early Saturday morning, before the rest of the world has crawled out of bed. I can go and have all 22,000 square feet almost all to myself. It's quiet and I can meander, taking my sweet time without feeling rushed or crowded. Granted, I'll ignore about 80% of what's in a supermarket. With an average of 50,000 products, the modern American supermarket is a testament to excess and 'what were they thinking when they invented that', but there are the corners that I love.
Walk in the front doors and I'm greeted by the produce section. The best part of the supermarket, in my opinion, I spend the majority of my time here. A rainbow of fruits and veggies, just waiting for me to take a sensory tour of them. I pick up a peach and the sweet, fresh scent makes my mouth water. Rolling the apples and oranges in my hands, I know that they're going to be the perfect snack on a warm afternoon, refreshing and perfect to satisfy my sweet tooth. Almost invariably, I end up with more than I can eat, more than I need.
The veggies are just as tempting: the juicy tomatoes, perfectly round and bright red, the crisp cucumbers that are the perfect addition to a salad. And the greens. Oh, I love my dark green vegetables: the asparagus that is simple and delicious steamed and drizzled with olive oil and coriander, the broccoli that goes wonderfully with my honey-mustard tofu, the spinach that I'll eat with pretty much anything.
It's browsing the produce section, loading my basket with the bananas and potatoes, eggplants and mushrooms, that I don't get why people, when they find out I'm vegetarian, ask in confusion, "But what do you eat?" What do I eat? Almost everything. All of these fresh, delicious foods are mine for cooking, however I'd like, and that's half the fun of grocery shopping. It's the potential. Even just in this little corner of the store, there are a plethora of dinner possibilities, just waiting to be made. Alone, mixed with other foods, eaten hot or cold, covered in spices or tasted plain, what can't I do with this produce?
It's this possibility that gets me excited. It's picking up a bag of peppers and some mushrooms and thinking how perfectly they'd taste stir-fried and mixed with jasmine rice, coated in olive oil, and seasoned with freshly grated garlic, lemon-pepper seasoning and maybe even some thyme. Sometimes I buy things with a specific purpose in mind, but more often then not, it's not knowing what I want to make that adds something special to my grocery shopping. It's picking up what looks good, the freshest and the brightest products, and thinking about all the ways I could use it.
That's why I love grocery shopping. It's playtime. An exercise in creative thought and planning. The next time you're at the grocery store, don't think about how it's something you have to do. Think about how it's something you get to do. You get to go and buy delicious food that's going to feed yourself, your family, your friends. You get to take one thing and make it into something new, something different. A little bit of layman's alchemy.
Sometimes it is a hassle, just another 'to-do' squished in between the laundry and the lawn mowing. But even in the middle of that rush, stop for a second. Remember the people you're cooking for and the pleasure they'll get out of that meal. I think you'll find it's always worth it to stop and smell the peaches (or the cherries or the apples).

Tart and Tangy Happiness

It is a truth universally acknowledged that I will put cinnamon in everything. Well, maybe not everything (I suspect diet Coke or string cheese wouldn't improve with the addition of cinnamon), but, generally, any entree is fair game when it comes to this sexy beast of a spice. And, as in the case of my dinner tonight, it's a last minute addition.
Tonight I decided to test out a recipe of my own making: honey-ginger baked tofu. OK. I can hear the groans and see the disgusted looks on your faces. Tofu? Blech. But stay with me. Tofu, when cooked correctly, is not quite the soggy, tasteless mess that so many people see it as. Prepared well, and cooked well, tofu is an excellent addition to any dinner, even for you omnivores out there. (Hint: wrap your tofu in a kitchen towel and place a heavy item on top of it for an hour to press out the water. This makes it both less soggy and more able to absorb the taste of the flavoring)
While my tofu was being pressed, I made my spice mix. I started with some honey, about 4 tablespoons worth. (Disclaimer: I rarely measure my spices. Food should be made to taste, not to scientifically calculated specifications). Add in some freshly grated ginger. Over this, I sliced onions (onions are like cinnamon: I'll put them in almost anything).
Take this mix and pour it over the tofu, making sure to coat both sides. Then I added some orange juice and orange slices because, well, the oranges looked tasty when I was picking up the ginger root from the grocery store. I used half the orange for the juice and sliced the other half up into chunks that I put on top of the tofu (in a star shape because I'm a dork like that) and I think food should look as good as it tastes. Then, because I saw the bottle and couldn't resist, I coated it with a decent amount of cinnamon.
Ideally, I would have left this mix to marinate into the tofu for about an hour, but I was hungry so I only let it sit for about twenty-five minutes or so. Into oven (400 degrees) and cooked for 20 minutes. Flip the tofu slices and cook for another 10 or so.
By the time it's done, my house was smelling absolutely fantastic. Half of my seasoning decisions are based on how it'll make my house smell when it's done. If Yankee Candle sells it as a scent, chances are I'll put it in my food and this honey-ginger tofu is no exception. It was sweet, with just a hint of the ginger-y kick. A very subtle scent, but more than enough to get my stomach demanding a taste. Who am I to deny such a demand?
The verdict? Win! The tofu was not as flavorful as it would have been, had I let it marinate for the full hour, but it was quite pleasant nonetheless. The larger pieces of ginger added surprisingly delightful moments of bite and the oranges were a sweet citrus-y juxtaposition to that kick. I will try it again at some point, giving the tofu sufficient time to marinate and I think I will add jasmine rice as a side. That ought to increase the house-fragrancing power tenfold! (Hey, I love my multi-tasking. Why shouldn't my dinner double as my potpurri?)
And here is my masterpiece, garnished with some mint freshly picked from my garden (or the little pot on my apartment front steps. Same difference).

Bread, You Beautiful Carb-acious Beast you!

I made bread for the first time today.
I've always wanted to make my own bread. I love the way bread smells when it's cooking and the way it tastes. Not to mention the fact that I get an inordinate amount of pleasure anytime I eat something I made myself (beyond things like sandwiches and such. They don't count). It's a giddy feeling almost, like a five year old showing off a finger painting. The painting might be, objectively, nothing more than a few squiggles of color and maybe a dash of paint that suggests the family dog or possibly an airplane, but to the kid and to the mum for whom it was made, that painting ought to be hung in the Louvre. Move over Van Gogh!
Even something as simple is bread evokes a similar feeling in me. I know bread is simple. Well, I suppose I could make it complicated, but the recipe I just tried was for a basic loaf of bread. There is nothing special about this bread, nothing out of the ordinary, nothing unique about it, except for the small fact that I made it. And I am fairly certain that it will taste better for that fact. To quote a favorite writer, Neil Gaiman, "The world is always a little brighter when you've just made something that wasn't there before." True statement, Mr. Gaiman, and I think the same applies whether we're talking about a novel, a loaf of bread, or a fingerpaint masterpiece. We are, essentially, creative beings and creativity is satisfying on a level that is hard to explain.
Right now my bread is in the oven, little more than a few mounds of squishy squishy dough. But in a bit it will be delicious, warm, edible bread. Assuming this turns out all right (here's hoping), the next step is experimentation, tossing in ingredients that I hope (and wish and pray) will taste good.

Welcome to my Kitchen

The Kitchen Alchemist

I have always felt that there was something wonderfully creative and magical about cooking. It's the perfect cross-section between practicality and creativity. The most basic goal of cooking is to make nourishing food, to provide the body with the sustenance it needs to function properly. Of course, that can be accomplished with the most rudimentary of dishes: steamed rice, veggies, sandwiches, etc. There is no need for anything more. These foods will nourish the body as well as the most complex of dishes.
But it is the interjection of one's creativity into the kitchen that really brings the art alive. It takes cooking and raises it above being merely a task necessary for survival. It makes cooking fun, a challenge, and an excitement. The earth has supplied us with countless building blocks that can be cooked and combined in ways beyond the knowing. There are always new ingredients to try and even the old, familiar standbys can be made new if cooked differently.
I've always been a competent cook, feeding myself without any major mishaps. At the very least, I've never sent myself or anybody I've fed to the hospital. But it was always a chore. I cooked because I was hungry and I needed to eat. Dinners were basic. Reach into the freezer, pull out a piece of chicken breast, cook in fry pan with some spices, eat with a side of microwaved veggies. Or pasta with some cheese and store-bought tomato sauce. A veritable carnival in my kitchen. [insert sarcastic eye roll here].
I'm not sure when I decided to bring a little adventure into my kitchen. I think my decision to go vegetarian had something to do with it. It opened up my eyes to a world of culinary possibilities. No longer was my diet dominated by the basic meat courses of chicken or pork or beef. And, as much as I love pasta and bread, a woman can't survive on spaghetti and PB&J sandwiches alone.
Ever since then, I've tried to be a little more daring in my kitchen. Sometimes it turns out okay and I end up with a new recipe to add my book. Sometimes the failures are, well, epic. More often than not, I end up fed. And I still haven't sent myself to the hospital. But I've noticed a certain stagnancy to my cooking lately. I've relied more and more upon repetitive, easy odds and ends: fake chicken patties, eggs, microwavable steamed veggies, etc. Nothing wrong with these foods, but my kitchen is starting to get boring again and that, dear reader, is simply unacceptable.
My goal, then, is to make an effort to find that culinary gold, teased out the seemingly ordinary and ho-hum ingredients I've got available to me. To that end, I am going to try one new recipe a week from a cookbook and try to create one myself. Living alone, a recipe will feed me for three or four days. I want to try new ingredients, vegetables or fruits I've never tasted, spices I've always shunned, cooking styles that I've left untested.
Here's hoping I end up with gold!