No tomatoes, please

Finally, a recipe site is doing recipe-less cooking! I was perusing Chow.com today (seriously, this Web site is awesome, kind of my dream to work there), and I noticed that they have a new feature called recipe-free cooking. Here they show you how to roast a chicken in the oven. I know, crazy, right? Other entries in the series include whole roasted fish and a freakin three-egg omelette. Oh geeze, it’s some scary stuff.

Now, I wholeheartedly agree with the whole non-recipe thing, mostly because I find most recipes insidious crutches that ruin the whole fun of cooking, which is messing around and tasting and throwing stuff in and making it yummy and you.

But I also think it’s a tad disingenuous for Chow to be acting like this whole learning basic techniques and using them with ingredients you want in order to create a dish thing is something new. I mean, that’s how chefs and your grandma have been cooking for, um, centuries? I guess? Yeah, millennia, probably. So, to recap, I think it’s cool that a Web site is giving you permission to cook without a recipe, but I also think it’s pretty lame that people feel like they need that permission. Oh well.

So, apparently, this little delight is pretty much a staple across the pond. I was inspired to make this after I saw Jamie Oliver and Gordon Ramsay (holy jesus don’t even get me started on those two…super hot) make this simple dish on their respective shows. Speaking of Jamie Oliver, I also stole his saying, up there in the title. If it sounds retarded, it’s him, not me. It sounds better with a British accent anyhow.

So, since I am a relative newcomer to the whole mushroom-liking thing, I was afraid I wouldn’t like this recipe, but it actually turned out really well, and was delicious and surprisingly filling, and also super yummy for people who don’t eat meat and need something a little heartier than zucchini and such. Ooh! This would also make a totally rad appetizer if you just took little circles of bread and toasted them up and put the mushrooms on them. Ya know, if you’re into being nice to people who come over to your house.

We used four kinds of mushrooms: the regular button mushrooms, cremini mushrooms (which are also known as “baby bellas” since they’re, ya know, immature portobello mushrooms), oyster mushrooms (which are the delicate light yellow mushrooms that don’t really look like mushrooms, and they have a lovely delicate buttery flavor), and shitake mushrooms (which I always thought shitake mushrooms were those little white straw mushrooms, but those are, uh, straw mushrooms). All of these were lovely and available at Harris Teeter, so not too hard to find these days.

All I did was wipe them off and slice up the buttons, creminis and shitakes, and just lightly tear the larger oyster mushrooms in half. The verdict is still out as to whether or not you can wash them though. Old crochety French chefs say absolutely not, because they take on a lot of water or some bs, but you can if you want to. The fertilizer kinda gets stuck on them and is hard to wipe off. I mean, the crap on them is pretty much horse shit, so, yeah, don’t wanna eat that. I don’t like to wash them because they do take on a weird rubbery texture that makes them somehow harder to slice, but then again, in a lovely bit of irony, the chef’s house is filled with knives duller than Britney Spears at a MENSA meeting, so it’s hard to even cut butter around here. Oh geeze, topical humor! God, I should write for Jay Leno.

So all I did was throw some butter and olive oil in a pan (butter for flavor, and olive oil so the butter doesn’t burn) and saute the mushrooms. The hardest part about this recipe is not putting too many mushrooms in the pan. I ended up doing three batches, because if they get all crowded in the pan, their water all comes out and can’t evaporate, and they basically boil, and that is no good. So, I threw the mushrooms in the pan and didn’t stir them and let them brown on one side and get some color. Then I threw in about one clove of chopped garlic and some fresh thyme (because dried thyme, I don’t care what my mom says, tastes like dirt to me. I can always taste it at Cosmic when they put too much thyme in their dang beans, cuz they taste like someone threw dirt in them. Then again, it is Cosmic, who knows? They probably did throw dirt in there too), and stirred it around. For some reason, when I saute garlic alone in a pan, especially when it’s all chopped up in tiny pieces, it ALWAYS burns. So I like to throw it in with whatever else I’m sauteeing, like onions or whatever, never alone.

So, after you’ve sauteed the mushrooms and they’re cooked and have some color to them, then put salt and pepper on them. DO NOT salt the mushrooms before they are nice and browned, or the salt will draw all the moisture out of the mushrooms and they will boil in all the liquid. So at this point, all you have left to do is throw a little white wine in there, let the alcohol cook out, and voila! Mushrooms! All you need is the toast. You can either put bread in the toaster, but we just took some nice soft sourdough bread and sliced it up and sprinkled olive oil on it and broiled both sides under the broiler until they got nice and brown and toasty. Then throw the mushrooms on there. My mother insisted on putting chives on top because she has this weird obsession with them and insists on putting them in everything. But you don’t have to do that. So, it seems rather convoluted and hard to explain, but for realz, it only takes like, 10 minutes, and it is freakin delicious.

Mmm….DO IT

“Can’t pay my telephone bills, can’t pay my automo-bills…” Ahhh Destiny’s Child. All before everyone started caring about Beyonce and she started dating Jay-Z and her mother made her wear her horrible clothes so she could live out her vicarious dreams of being a fashion designer.

But when you realize what this post is actually about, you will groan, because yes, I love puns and other things that are not really funny but I find hilarious. Thank you Bryan Reed for ruining me. Anyhow, in order to celebrate Boxing Day, that lovely, pointless British day-after-Christmas tradition, I made a trifle. Ok, that’s a lie. I made it yesterday, and no one here freakin knows what one is. But British people make them for Boxing Day. Which is the day after Christmas. They also eat yorkshire puddings and the leftovers of their giant standing rib roasts and other generally disgusting British things. But trifle is generally non-disgusting. Actually, it’s generally pretty freakin awesome. Except for that one Rachel made on friends that she accidentally put the beef and peas and carrots in because the recipes got stuck together and hilarity ensued! That’s where you know a trifle from.

I make it every year, and insist on making it from scratch, including the freakin whipped cream. My mother is confounded by my insistence on doing things the hard way. I get it from my dad. But hey, in the end, it totally tastes better.

Anywho, a trifle basically consists of cake, fruit, jam and custard all layered in a trifle dish (yes, there are dishes specifically made for this dessert. And we have one. Kill me.) Also another reason Americans would be confounded by this dish is that custard only exists as something eaten regularly in Britain and probably Australia or something because they do everything England does. It isn’t the thick, set kind in creme brulee or panna cotta, but it’s a kind of sauce that’s basically like thin pudding. Also the base for custard-based ice creams. A custard is basically anything with milk and eggs that is thickened by the heating and cooking of the eggs. The custard I make for this is creme anglaise (recipe follows), and it’s freakin delicious. Or you could do what my mother suggests and use vanilla pudding. If you’re a terrible person.

I used to do homemade pound cake and put orange zest in it, but my mom made me start buying the pre-made sour cream pound cake from the store, and it’s a lot easier, mostly because it’s baked in a round ring pan and the slices go much easier in the round trifle dish. Also the fruit of choice for this trifle is raspberries, although you can use any kind of berries or soft fruit that would kinda get all mushy and meld in with the rest of the ingredients. Also, for the jam portion, I melt seedless raspberry jam (Polaner’s yeeeah) and brush it on the cake layers.

So, what you do is layer cake slices on the bottom of the dish and brush it with the melted jam:

Traditionally, some liquor is supposed to be doused on the cake before the jam in order to fully wet it so it can better meld with the rest of the layers, but it generally tastes too strong for me, plus I don’t want no dang mushy cake. It’s unamerican. In the past though, I did use Grand Marnier, which is an orange liqueur to go with the orange pound cake and add a sweetness to the sharp flavor of the raspberries. So after the cake, brush on liberal amounts of the melted jam, enough to wet the cake. Then drizzle on the custard in a lovely manner:

Then put a good amount of raspberries:

Then repeat. I like to kinda mash each layer down once I get the cake on, before I put on the next layer of jam so that it compacts all the ingredients together. So just repeat until you reach the top. I generally get a good three layers in. Then cover the top completely in whipped cream, add some more fresh berries or fruit as garnish, and voila! You have a lovely trifle that is way easier than its lavish appearance would have people believe. Also, it does have to sit a while so it can get all amalgamated and delicious. And seriously, holy crap. Not tryin’ to toot my own horn here, but it’s super delicious and everyone thinks you’re a total stud for making a giant dessert. Yum.

*Addendum: that was a lie about the creme anglaise recipe following. It’s slightly involved, and I don’t feel like typing it all out. Plus you’ll never make it. If you’re curious, just google it or something.

Oh geeze, a pun! A French pun, nonetheless. I hope Vosges doesn’t sue me. Oh well. (If you’re confused as to who or what Vosges is, it’s a chocolate company responsible for terrible slights against humanity such as this). Anywho, after eating dinner at a friend’s house and having some rich chocolate Ovaltine, I found myself contemplating my loathing for that delicious yuletide drink, hot chocolate. Then I became addicted to the hot chocolate at Starbucks (which I somehow ended up with one day after I asked the woman working there what had caffeine in it but wasn’t coffee. I was too tired to argue.). I realized that I liked the hot chocolate from Starbucks because a.) it is made with milk instead of water gross (I ask for whole milk. They judge me.), and b.) it’s got that lovely kind of bitter aftertaste of non-milk chocolate that I love.

Now, I’m gonna drop a bomb here. I do not like chocolate. I don’t like chocolate cake, with or without chocolate frosting. I hate milk chocolate, unless it surrounds a nut of some sort. I do not wish for chocolate during my lady times, and I have never thought of adorning my life with shirts or bumper stickers like this or this. What. The. Hell. If a dude ever gave me chocolate for Valentine’s day, I would dump him. The only thing I like about chocolate is that little bittersweet aftertaste like in homemade brownie batter (which I love) and the hot chocolate at Starbucks. So, I figured it couldn’t be that hard to engineer something delicious and awesome, and not powdered and mixed with water.

Yup, that’s it. In a lovely Christmas glass. unfortunately, I miscalculated that whole displacement thing, so when I put the whipped cream on it, it kind of went everywhere. But it’s kinda hot in that messy Bon Appetit down-to-earth sorta way. Maybe. Anywho, so first I contemplated a liquid vehicle for my delicious ski lodge drink. I figured, hey, what’s better than whole milk? Half and half! Yaaay. So, yeah, I’m a glutton. But I figure, you’re only gonna have this like, once a year, so you might as well go all out with the lovely rich flavor of half-milk/half-cream. Mmmm.

So, what I did was take a pint/16 0z./2cups/a pound/half a quart/2 mugs full of half and half and throw it in a pot with 2 sticks of cinnamon and a teensy tiny pinch of cayenne pepper. Cayenne pepper you say? That’s spicy! What’s going on here? Well, yeah, you know, it’s what the Aztecs did. Or something. And, ya know, I think people should do more things the Aztecs did. Like drink from the hollowed-out heads of their enemies. But mostly the cayenne pepper in the chocolate. Why does it work? I dunno, but it’s really nice to have that latent tingling to balance out the sweetness of the chocolate.

So anywho, throw that on some medium heat to kinda steep for about 10 minutes, but don’t turn it up too high, because milk burns, and that crap’s no good in the hot chocolate. I usually make some whipped cream during this step, but, ya know, I like to do things the hard way so that’s a step you can skip. So, once the milk is nice and steamy, whisk in the chocolat. I use semi-sweet, but you can use whatever kinda chocolate you like, except not milk chocolate, obviously. I buy the big Ghirardelli baking bars and break those up. For this amount, I use half a 4 oz. bar of chocolate. So, whisk that in and add a capful of vanilla extract. Then just throw it in 2 mugs with one cinnamon stick in each mug. The last bit is a little surprise thing to throw in a little pinch of Sanka. It’s dehydrated instant decaf coffee, and the bitterness and richness really makes the richness of the chocolate stick out, and it just makes it that much rounder and fuller. Then just throw some whipped cream on top (ya know, if you feel like it), and you’ve got delicious drink for the holiday season. Almost as delicious as the buckets of alcohol you’ll be drinking with your family (or because of, depending on the family). Plus by the time you get to the bottom, it’s so delicious and spicy because of the cinnamon stick! Oh my god, I actually like hot chocolate now.

Ahhh November. Even though it was stiflingly hot up until the end of October, daylight savings time has brought a sudden coldness with its depressing early darkness, and everyone has decided that they are sick. It’s amazing how achy and stuffy you feel when it gets dark at 4:30. There’s the flu going around, and colds, and a dry, hacking cough, and maybe ebola or something or other. But one thing’s for sure: When you’re sick, you want soup. I myself have been on the verge of getting sick for some time now. I have developed one of those hacking, gross chest coughs that seem to befall me every 6 months or so, and stick around for a while so I can bother my mother with my hacking hacking hacking.

I’ve also been dealing with some random stabbing pain in my throat lately, to the point where all I want is tea and some sort of other hot, salty liquid to fill my food quotient for the day. I know cooking is pretty much the last freakin thing you want to do when you’re all sick and gross-feeling, but if you’re up to it, this is so good, and it’s really fulfilling to make yourself something delicious and sustaining when you feel like hell. Almost makes you feel like a grown-up or something. Or, you can just act pitiful and guilt a hot friend into bringing you some chicken noodle soup. Or even making you some of this, if you’re particularly enterprising. So, in honor of everyone being sick, here’s a recipe I made up for bean with bacon soup. It sounds weird as hell, but it’s so good, because bacon makes everything awesome. Here it is, copied in its entirety from a previous blog I had, mostly because it’s pretty funny. Little backstory: I figured out the soup this summer when I was home from work because I almost cut the tip of my finger off while I was catering. Yeah, I almost cut my finger off, and what did I decide to do? Chop some crap. Yeah, whatever. Welcome to my world.

Since I was couch-bound today, due to my knife accident at work yesterday (tomatoes + newly sharpened knife + slippage = finger hemorrhage and three stitches yay), I decided to cook some soup. I’ve been toying for a while now with the idea of making some bean with bacon soup, since it’s my favorite kind from the Campbell’s, and I thought it would be pretty easy. And yeah, it’s pretty damn simple to make. So, after navigating the Food Lion and the scary toothless cashierlady with my awesome heavily-bandaged middle finger, I spent $4 and had the makings of some friggin awesome soup. It only has 6 ingredients, and it’s retardedly easy. The longest part of the process was chopping the carrot, but mostly because it was round and I have one less finger than normal. It’s really only enough friggin awesome soup for 1-2 people, but you can double the recipe and add more beans, or a different kind or whatever.

I started out by awkwardly chopping up three slices of bacon. I used three slices because they were little, but you can use more or less if you want. You want to make sure the bacon is pretty fatty, cuz when you cook it, it’s gonna render the fat out, and you want enough fat in there to cook the onions and carrots. So, I threw that in a small pot over some medium heat and let it cook down while I chopped a small-ish carrot (peeled, but mostly because I’m the type of person who likes that little extra Martha Stewart anal-retentive step. I mean, you don’t have to if you don’t mind dirt and little root bits in your soup. But whatever.) and half a small onion. Make sure and chop both pretty fine, especially the onion, because it cooks faster, and also gross big chunks of onion are not appetizing in soup. I think. So, I threw those in there and let them cook down slowly while I proceeded to wash, slice and eat an entire quart of strawberries. So, about 10, 15 minutes? You want to make sure that the veggies are really nice and soft. This is also where you want to add salt and pepper. I didn’t add too much salt because I thought the mixture of bacon and canned chicken stock would add up to enough season, but I ended up needing more in the end, so don’t be lame about the salt. Then I threw in a spoonful of tomato paste and stirred that around and let it kinda melt from the heat. Next I added a can of chicken stock (low sodium), a can full of water, and a can of white beans with the farty bean juice. I got Great Northern beans, even though I was looking for Navy beans, but really any white not-too-huge bean will do, like Cannellini (Bam. Wikipedia confirms my genius, yet again. All three are pretty much the same bean). Then just bring it to a simmer for about 20-25 minutes to make sure everything is nice and heated through, and the beans get a little more cooked, and bam, you got dinner. Or a nice light lunch. Impeccable with grilled cheese. Or, if you’re sick, and tired of chicken noodle soup, this’ll also cure what ails you. Awesome. 

That is all. Enjoy!

In case you were wondering what the hell that crazy picture is, it’s a Francis Bacon. Get it? Yuk yuk.

Okay, as I was trolling the Food Network’s web site for a sufficiently ridiculous turkey recipe, I found this, and I’m pretty sure it’s the most terrifying thing I’ve ever seen:

In case you were wondering what heinous kind of food that could possibly be, it’s a pie. A goddamn apple pie. I can’t even fathom … I have no words. Just a little vomit in my mouth.

Not only does this recipe require TWENTY FOUR apples, you must stuff the apples into a bowl to sufficiently mold them into a gargantuan half-orb and then invert the whole mess onto the pie crust. Then it is covered with molten caramel and pecans. And then, I dunno, tossed into the gaping maw of a dragon? I mean, who the hell else could eat this but imaginary creatures that would normally swallow entire humans whole? So instead of making this, or really even further thinking about it, you should make a baked apple instead. Because you only eat one, and it is probably far more delicious anyway.

So, I dunno, take like, 4 apples and core them, except don’t core them all the way through. You want a hole in the apple, so you can stuff it with crap.

Now, any time I talk about apples, I’m talking Fuji apples. My family don’t do that whole red delicious bs. Fujis are in the grocery store, probably right next to your regular granny smiths, but they are super better. They’re really crisp, and amazingly sweet, and available year round. But if you can’t find those, use a Rome apple, or a Gala apple instead. There’s usually stickers on the apples, a helpful indicator of what kind it is, if you get confused.

So anywho, take the apples, and core them somehow (I would suggest a melon baller, but if you don’t know what is, you could use a knife to hack at it until there is a sufficient hole), and then throw them in a little pyrex baking dish. My mom used to stuff them with brown sugar, cinnamon, butter, and freakin red hots. I know it sounds crazy, but they were really good. They melted and melded with the brown sugar and the butter, and permeated the apple, and it was delicious. You can pretty much stuff them with whatever you want though. You could put some chopped pecans or walnuts in there, or add some raisins, or even dried cranberries would be delicious if you want a really fall-y feel. So, throw some water (or apple cider if you’re Martha Stewart) in the bottom of the pan so they don’t stick, and also because the brown sugar and butter kinda melts out and makes a yummy kinda sauce in the bottom of the pan. Bake them for about 25-30 minutes in a 350-degree oven, or until they are tender when you poke them with a knife. Serve with vanilla ice cream, enjoy, and don’t even look at that picture again.

Aaaah, ’tis that time of year again. Drunken revelry on the streets of the Chapel Thrill. Half-naked ladies stumbling around and candy- and alcohol-induced projectile vomiting. Alas, I am not doing anything to celebrate this Halloween, since I grew out of the trick-or-treating thing when I was about 12 and also since it will be cold, and I don’t wanna deal with that crap. But I did do something this year that was distinctly Halloween-y, and something that I have managed to successfully avoid up until now — pumpkin carving!

I really used to hate it as a child, what with the disgusting pumpkin guts all makin your arms itch, and my father getting fed up with our subpar cutting skills and taking over for us. But one thing that I did relish about the holiday was the delicious pumpkin seeds my mom would make for us. There were never enough, it seemed, and they were always so delicious. And a welcome break from sunflower seends, since I could eat the whole thing (although I did eat the whole sunflower seed for a while there, but that’s a different story. It’s easy to be confused by that…), shell and all.

Even though I wasn’t able to actually make pumpkin seeds this year, I shall walk through how you make them. It’s super easy and way better than having a bucket of pumpkin guts hanging around the house.

So, take the seeds and separate them from the disgusting, mucous-y innards. This is by far the worst part. Then wash them really well in a colander, and lay them out on a baking sheet. My mom likes to sprinkle a little more water on them so that the salt (or other spices) sticks to the seeds before she bakes them in a 325-degree oven. She never times anything, but I’ve determined that it’s about 45 minutes, or until you taste one and it’s crunchy.

You can flavor these with different spices, if you want, as well. Add some curry powder or chili powder for a delicious and slightly spicy snack, or you could sprinkle cinnamon on them if you want something to hold you over on the whole pumpkin thing until Thanksgiving.

So yeah, that’s pumpkin seeds. Really easy, and cheaper than tryin to buy that crap at Whole Foods or something. Plus they probably have weird things on them, like, soy germ wheat fiber or something like that. Ew.

And here’s a picture of my pumpkin! His name is Simon, and the only reason I could stand carving it is because the pumpkin was small and I didn’t actually have to stick my arm in it. He was a cute vampire jack o’lantern, but his fangs all withered up in his mouth. And now his mouth is all gross and wrinkly. So now it’s a withery old man pumpkin? God I hope I remember to throw it out before it totally rots…