Yesterday, I was in the grocery store, looking at the packets of spices for making various things. some of these, I consider cheating; the "Mexican Rice" packets, for example. That, I can do myself; fry the rice to start with, add cumin, dump in chicken stock and sieved tomato, and then just let it cook. No need to pay far more money for a packet mix that won't taste as good.
Tacos, though, I cheat on. I buy the spice mixes for those, just to make it less fiddly with flour and suchlike. That was why I was looking at the packets. But as I looked, and saw the "Mexican Rice" packets, I remembered that it was a long time since I'd made anything using rice. Then I had an idea; instead of the somewhat boring dinner I had planned, I would instead make some chicken, in a nice mildly spiced sauce, and serve it with rice. I already had everything needed for that.
So I started cooking somewhat aimlessly; this was going to be distinctly experimental. Fry off the roughly cubed chicken and some back bacon, with garlic and onion; add "Enchilada Sauce" spice packet, which is mostly flour with some cumin and paprika; add sieved tomatoes and a decent amount of water. Then I started reducing it; about halfway through, I realised it wasn't going to be sticky enough for my tastes, so I made up a little ooblick to thicken it (cornstarch and water) and added that in, then kept it on the heat, boiling down. It ended up being fairly similar to my "bolognese" sauce, but it definitely tasted Mexican; I'd have been very happy with it as a main course at a Mexican restaurant. The sauce was thick, sticky, and delicious, the chicken was meltingly tender, and it went perfectly with the rice.
And all because I sometimes cheat, and sometimes don't. Cheating on tacos led me to the rack; refusing to cheat on rice caused an idea to sprout, that turned into a very good meal to add to the repertoire.
Showing posts with label cooking. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cooking. Show all posts
Friday, August 23, 2013
Wednesday, February 13, 2013
Zero Sink Rate
With a title like that, you might expect this to be about glider technology - I mean, gliders are pretty awesome, right? I know I'd love to try it. But no, this is about kitchen management, and the fact that a kitchen is a system in which cooking is only one part.
In my last post, I mentioned a tendency to get behind on cleaning up after meals, and the knock-on effects that had on future meals. That got me thinking, and I came up with some rules for myself to keep my kitchen more usable.
Rule 1: Making a meal includes cleaning up. If I have enough spoons to cook, but know that I will run out before I've cleaned up after it, I don't have enough spoons to make a meal. The easiest time to get pans clean is right after use; if I let them sit, I'm making work. I'm stealing spoons from myself and throwing them away. So the only valid reason for the pans from a meal not being cleaned up is the meal still going on, whether in active eating or conversation.
Rule 2: Thou shalt not soak. This one isn't quite rigid; if I screw up, there might be carbon that doesn't want to come off. That's acceptable, but I have to have made a genuine effort to remove it before resorting to soaking, and I MUST make a genuine effort to remove it each time I enter the kitchen until it's gone. The same goes for peanut butter jars (the LA loves it), which do require soaking to soften the peanut butter; but each time I enter the kitchen while one is soaking, I have to get it half-full with water and shake the dickens out of it to knock the tenacious stuff off the sides.
Rule 3: Drip-dry is fine. Sit dry is not. What this means is that once pans are dry, they should be put away at the first opportunity. That way, when the time comes to cook again, I know where they are. I don't have to waste spoons on remembering which pans are next to the sink and which are in the cupboard.
Rule 4: Load the dishwasher. The LA and I both have the bad habit of setting plates, glasses and the like on the counter rather than in the dishwasher. In the LA's case, it's because she knows I'm particular about how the dishwasher is loaded (engineer brain working out the optimal stacking for cat dishes, how to keep can covers restrained, and so on) but in my case it's purely and simply a bad habit. I'm aiming to break it.
Rule 5: Unload the Dishwasher. This is the automated version of Rule 3. In the dishwasher's case, it's fine to wait for it to cool down (attempting to remove a plate right after the cycle finishes will erase fingerprints, and hurts even my notably heat-resistant hands) but then, put stuff away rather than letting it sit.
I'm not necessarily doing well at following these rules - but I do want to let them guide my actions and decisions, and I want to make them public for anyone else who's having trouble with keeping their kitchen usable.
In my last post, I mentioned a tendency to get behind on cleaning up after meals, and the knock-on effects that had on future meals. That got me thinking, and I came up with some rules for myself to keep my kitchen more usable.
Rule 1: Making a meal includes cleaning up. If I have enough spoons to cook, but know that I will run out before I've cleaned up after it, I don't have enough spoons to make a meal. The easiest time to get pans clean is right after use; if I let them sit, I'm making work. I'm stealing spoons from myself and throwing them away. So the only valid reason for the pans from a meal not being cleaned up is the meal still going on, whether in active eating or conversation.
Rule 2: Thou shalt not soak. This one isn't quite rigid; if I screw up, there might be carbon that doesn't want to come off. That's acceptable, but I have to have made a genuine effort to remove it before resorting to soaking, and I MUST make a genuine effort to remove it each time I enter the kitchen until it's gone. The same goes for peanut butter jars (the LA loves it), which do require soaking to soften the peanut butter; but each time I enter the kitchen while one is soaking, I have to get it half-full with water and shake the dickens out of it to knock the tenacious stuff off the sides.
Rule 3: Drip-dry is fine. Sit dry is not. What this means is that once pans are dry, they should be put away at the first opportunity. That way, when the time comes to cook again, I know where they are. I don't have to waste spoons on remembering which pans are next to the sink and which are in the cupboard.
Rule 4: Load the dishwasher. The LA and I both have the bad habit of setting plates, glasses and the like on the counter rather than in the dishwasher. In the LA's case, it's because she knows I'm particular about how the dishwasher is loaded (engineer brain working out the optimal stacking for cat dishes, how to keep can covers restrained, and so on) but in my case it's purely and simply a bad habit. I'm aiming to break it.
Rule 5: Unload the Dishwasher. This is the automated version of Rule 3. In the dishwasher's case, it's fine to wait for it to cool down (attempting to remove a plate right after the cycle finishes will erase fingerprints, and hurts even my notably heat-resistant hands) but then, put stuff away rather than letting it sit.
I'm not necessarily doing well at following these rules - but I do want to let them guide my actions and decisions, and I want to make them public for anyone else who's having trouble with keeping their kitchen usable.
Monday, August 15, 2011
Coat tails
As my mother will no doubt confirm, I have a tendency towards running to fat. The lack of activity in my daily life (due to a combination of lack of need to exercise in doing things and an ever-increasing collection of mobility-impairing health problems) doesn't help at all. The LA, having an office job, also struggles with keeping weight to an acceptable level; so much so, in fact, that she's begun (with some friends) attending meetings at Weight Watchers. Their points system is nicely generous, with the majority of vegetables counting as freebies, and her attention to it is also providing fringe benefits for me; since I cook for both of us, it's simplest to cook something that's good for her, and eat my portion of it happily. It's not impossible that I'll be able to lose some weight as well, which will make my doctor happy; he's been on at me to lose about a stone and a half. For the same reason, I'm working (when I have tuits and suitable weather available) on a frame to raise my desk by roughly 15 inches, so that I can stand at it instead of sitting.
Perhaps I ought to try posting regular updates here. Allow my readers to help keep me accountable.
In other news, my car has lost a feature it had until very recently; the powered antenna ceased to work reliably, and my efforts to troubleshoot resulted in finding that the $200 motor is up the Swanee, which is far more than I'm willing to invest in what is, frankly, a luxury on what I consider to be utilitarian transport. And so, I reassembled the thing with a shortened pigtail (having removed the mast while troubleshooting, and been unable to re-thread the pigtail) and a permanently erect mast, and then disconnected the control and power lines to the motor. I can no longer take my car through an automatic car wash, but then again I hadn't done that in over a year anyway. I wash the dust off it occasionally, and keep the important glass scrupulously clean; beyond that, it's getting on for 18 years old and is always going to look it., so as long as the paint remains sufficiently intact to prevent rust, I honestly don't really care.
Perhaps I ought to try posting regular updates here. Allow my readers to help keep me accountable.
In other news, my car has lost a feature it had until very recently; the powered antenna ceased to work reliably, and my efforts to troubleshoot resulted in finding that the $200 motor is up the Swanee, which is far more than I'm willing to invest in what is, frankly, a luxury on what I consider to be utilitarian transport. And so, I reassembled the thing with a shortened pigtail (having removed the mast while troubleshooting, and been unable to re-thread the pigtail) and a permanently erect mast, and then disconnected the control and power lines to the motor. I can no longer take my car through an automatic car wash, but then again I hadn't done that in over a year anyway. I wash the dust off it occasionally, and keep the important glass scrupulously clean; beyond that, it's getting on for 18 years old and is always going to look it., so as long as the paint remains sufficiently intact to prevent rust, I honestly don't really care.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Again, the years have flown by.
Today and tomorrow are the closest the LA and I get to a wedding anniversary this year. Next year, we actually get abona fide, for-real anniversary, our first, but this year, we only get a sort of celebration, since it's only 3 years since we stood in the LAX courthouse and made solemn promises to each other.
I'm cooking Swedish Sailor's tonight, since the LA asked me very nicely. It's a lot of prep work, but oh so good when it's done, and right now I can smell it.
And in other news, I've had a couple of my RPG rulebooks spiral bound at an office services place. The tough part was overcoming my reluctance to mutilate bound books; however, both were already falling apart. Now, though, I'm serously contemplating having another one, in near-perfect condition, treated the same. It really is that big an improvement in usability for a rulebook which will be constantly referenced; it now lays flat, can be folded back with no damage... for roughly $7 per book, the value is astounding.
I'm cooking Swedish Sailor's tonight, since the LA asked me very nicely. It's a lot of prep work, but oh so good when it's done, and right now I can smell it.
And in other news, I've had a couple of my RPG rulebooks spiral bound at an office services place. The tough part was overcoming my reluctance to mutilate bound books; however, both were already falling apart. Now, though, I'm serously contemplating having another one, in near-perfect condition, treated the same. It really is that big an improvement in usability for a rulebook which will be constantly referenced; it now lays flat, can be folded back with no damage... for roughly $7 per book, the value is astounding.
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Washing up, and the whys and wherefores of certain aspects thereof.
You've no doubt noticed that I like to cook, and naturally such an activity leads to pans and utensils which need to be washed. Some of these, depending on durability of item and qualities of what's attached, can simply be placed into the dishwasher, but others require a little specialised treatment.
Naturally, the best approach is to wash up as soon as possible, but inevitably one becomes uncreatively lazy and fails to do so. Some items benefit from soaking, but others do not. Particularly soak-needing items are ice cream, oatmeal, meats in sauces, and raw eggs. These all have one thing in common: protein. That stuff loves to denature, and tends to stick when it does so. If you don't soak, they'll become caked on, and it's more than a dishwasher can do to get them off. You'll tend to need to scrub, which is why you need to make sure not to make oatmeal in a non-stick pan; it sticks enough to need scrubbing sufficient to remove the non-stick. Cereals and milk, in fact, often tended to be the basis for wood glues in years past. This makes oatmeal a truly horrible thing for sticking.
Naturally, the best approach is to wash up as soon as possible, but inevitably one becomes uncreatively lazy and fails to do so. Some items benefit from soaking, but others do not. Particularly soak-needing items are ice cream, oatmeal, meats in sauces, and raw eggs. These all have one thing in common: protein. That stuff loves to denature, and tends to stick when it does so. If you don't soak, they'll become caked on, and it's more than a dishwasher can do to get them off. You'll tend to need to scrub, which is why you need to make sure not to make oatmeal in a non-stick pan; it sticks enough to need scrubbing sufficient to remove the non-stick. Cereals and milk, in fact, often tended to be the basis for wood glues in years past. This makes oatmeal a truly horrible thing for sticking.
Friday, September 10, 2010
Of mushrooms, mail, and memory foam
For most of my life, I've disliked mushrooms. Recently, I've learned to tolerate them, and then a couple of weeks ago, I began actually wanting them. The LA has been a somewhat enthusiastic fungivore for many years, so really, this brings my tastes into closer alignment with hers more than anything else. I've begun adding mushrooms to my pasta sauce, and may well continue to use them in cooking. It just goes to show, one should always be willing to give a food another chance. That said, neither of us feels that enthused about curry. The LA dislikes spicy food, and I still can't get past the years of school curries which smelled of vomit.
As for memory foam, I've finally realised that I need a good pillow to keep my neck from becoming completely ruined by my sleeping habits, and succumbed to the lure of the high-density polyurethane foam. It's too early to tell if it's a massive improvement, but this morning my neck felt better than it has for some time. All this bought me was more of a chance to feel the effects of my recently discovered allergies; I'd forgotten, but it seems that I suffer an overreaction to some varieties of tree pollen, and there are such trees around here.
And so we come to mail handling. E-mail is a useful tool, but poorly defined and generally poorly implemented. The standards are contradictory, and frankly it's a nightmare. Even determining the syntactic validity of an e-mail address is nigh-impossible. That said, some aspects can be managed; one such aspect is message threading, which is to say keeping a message grouped together with its replies. Some clients don't do this; it's a tricky thing to handle. The most computationally cheap method is to compare subject lines; this works reasonably well. Google's mail service uses this, and adds a few wrinkles such as parsing the message and hiding the quoted text under the assumption that you've already read it. However, this approach breaks down if someone changes the subject line; I've seen Gmail fragment a useful conversation into unreadability because of this. My in-laws gave me a used iPod Touch last week, as a very early birthday gift; among its features is an e-mail client. This client handles message threading very well. I believe that how it does this is by means of the message-id (a header not usually exposed to the user, automatically generated to have a reasonable likelihood of being unique) and the in-reply-to (another header, rather obvious in what it refers to). The upshot is that messages remain threaded even with multiple subject line changes. I rather like this. The iPod has many other useful features, but this was the one which leapt out at me.
As for memory foam, I've finally realised that I need a good pillow to keep my neck from becoming completely ruined by my sleeping habits, and succumbed to the lure of the high-density polyurethane foam. It's too early to tell if it's a massive improvement, but this morning my neck felt better than it has for some time. All this bought me was more of a chance to feel the effects of my recently discovered allergies; I'd forgotten, but it seems that I suffer an overreaction to some varieties of tree pollen, and there are such trees around here.
And so we come to mail handling. E-mail is a useful tool, but poorly defined and generally poorly implemented. The standards are contradictory, and frankly it's a nightmare. Even determining the syntactic validity of an e-mail address is nigh-impossible. That said, some aspects can be managed; one such aspect is message threading, which is to say keeping a message grouped together with its replies. Some clients don't do this; it's a tricky thing to handle. The most computationally cheap method is to compare subject lines; this works reasonably well. Google's mail service uses this, and adds a few wrinkles such as parsing the message and hiding the quoted text under the assumption that you've already read it. However, this approach breaks down if someone changes the subject line; I've seen Gmail fragment a useful conversation into unreadability because of this. My in-laws gave me a used iPod Touch last week, as a very early birthday gift; among its features is an e-mail client. This client handles message threading very well. I believe that how it does this is by means of the message-id (a header not usually exposed to the user, automatically generated to have a reasonable likelihood of being unique) and the in-reply-to (another header, rather obvious in what it refers to). The upshot is that messages remain threaded even with multiple subject line changes. I rather like this. The iPod has many other useful features, but this was the one which leapt out at me.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
Do it fast enough and it doesn't hurt.
The weather, here in our little corner of Nova Albion, continues hot. Not, admittedly, as hot as Arizona, in which I'm informed by a resident that it is indeed physically possible to fry an egg on the road, but certainly hotter than it normally becomes in, for example, the UK. The current temperature outside, as reported by a local weather station within optimistic stone-throwing distance, is 88.1 °F / 31.2 °C; this is fairly typical for an inland area of this state, at this time of year.
Naturally, both the LA's car and mine are getting a goodly amount of use out of their respective air conditioners. While mine is operating nowhere near its achievable maximum (I'm informed, by someone who has done it, that that system can be induced to produce duct temperatures below freezing; it ices up over the course of an hour, at which point one deactivates the compressor and allows the melting of the ice to cool air until such time as the coils are clear and cooling can begin again), it operates satisfactorily enough.
However, that's not the point of this narrative. No, my point is that despite the heat (and the inadequacy of the house's air conditioner; while its duct temperatures would be adequate for a properly ducted house, this house is by no means properly ducted; half of the house becomes much cooler than the other half, in which reside the Wii, the television, the DVD player which of late we've been using to observe goings-on aboard a vessel by the name of Battlestar Galactica, and sundry other entertaining devices), cooking a good meal is still possible, provided only that one does so as rapidly as can be managed. Tonight, the protein came in the form of sausages (precooked, so only requiring to be heated through), and they were accompanied with corn on the cob (prepared by my usual method, which uses a microwave; it handily beats any stovetop method for convenience and flavour), potato wedges (somewhat of a specialty of mine), and baked carrots. The baked carrots were rather experimental; they'll be a regular part of my repertoire from now on.
The reason they were experimental is that I had stolen the recipe from a friend. Or rather, I'd stolen the fact that such a pleasant result was possible; not only was I attempting to replicate it using a fundamentally different oven (gas vs electric, a contest which inevitably falls to the favour of gas in my opinion), I'd had no guidance. Thankfully, my instinct for cooking saw me through; the period of guessing was mercifully short. That is what the title refers to; not the act of cooking itself!
Naturally, both the LA's car and mine are getting a goodly amount of use out of their respective air conditioners. While mine is operating nowhere near its achievable maximum (I'm informed, by someone who has done it, that that system can be induced to produce duct temperatures below freezing; it ices up over the course of an hour, at which point one deactivates the compressor and allows the melting of the ice to cool air until such time as the coils are clear and cooling can begin again), it operates satisfactorily enough.
However, that's not the point of this narrative. No, my point is that despite the heat (and the inadequacy of the house's air conditioner; while its duct temperatures would be adequate for a properly ducted house, this house is by no means properly ducted; half of the house becomes much cooler than the other half, in which reside the Wii, the television, the DVD player which of late we've been using to observe goings-on aboard a vessel by the name of Battlestar Galactica, and sundry other entertaining devices), cooking a good meal is still possible, provided only that one does so as rapidly as can be managed. Tonight, the protein came in the form of sausages (precooked, so only requiring to be heated through), and they were accompanied with corn on the cob (prepared by my usual method, which uses a microwave; it handily beats any stovetop method for convenience and flavour), potato wedges (somewhat of a specialty of mine), and baked carrots. The baked carrots were rather experimental; they'll be a regular part of my repertoire from now on.
The reason they were experimental is that I had stolen the recipe from a friend. Or rather, I'd stolen the fact that such a pleasant result was possible; not only was I attempting to replicate it using a fundamentally different oven (gas vs electric, a contest which inevitably falls to the favour of gas in my opinion), I'd had no guidance. Thankfully, my instinct for cooking saw me through; the period of guessing was mercifully short. That is what the title refers to; not the act of cooking itself!
Thursday, May 20, 2010
The sweet and spicy smell of success
Yesterday (by my time, at least; time zones make it more complex internationally) my older sister posted a recipe for Ginger Fairings. Today, I procured the necessary ingredients, and made baking happen. Reproduced is her recipe, with my annotations.
8 oz plain flour (yes, by weight. You Americans only use volume because way back when, accurate scales were hard to come by)
4 oz margarine (really margarine. 99.9% of the time, butter is better for baking. This is the exception)
4 oz granulated sugar
4 oz golden syrup (2 tablespoons or thereabouts) (Americans and expats in America can substitute with a roughly 2:1 mix of light corn syrup and mild molasses - it's not right, but it's close enough as long as you don't mind them being crunchy instead of chewy. And you really should weigh this - two tablespoons was nowhere near enough, I had to add more as the mixer went. When weighing, I suggest using a small bowl that you've greased. Cooking spray works well for this.)
pinch salt
1/2 teaspoon bicarbonate of soda
1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1 teaspoon ground ginger
1 teaspoon mixed spice (doesn't seem to be sold by Safeway; I used a quarter-teaspoon each of nutmeg and cloves, and a half-teaspoon of allspice, and I'm happy with that)
Preheat oven to 200 degrees C/Gas Mark 6/395 degrees F
EITHER sift together dry ingredients, rub in margarine, add syrup and mix together to form a smooth pliable paste
OR (what I do) bung everything into food processor and whizz until it forms a ball
By hand, roll into a long sausage. Cut off small sections and shape into balls (makes 32). Place on greased baking tray, leaving plenty of room for spreading. Bake on top shelf until golden (about 7 minutes), then on a lower shelf to drop and spread for 4 - 5 minutes. When you take them out of the oven, slap the baking sheet down onto a heat-resistant surface (the top of your stove is generally ideal, being solid and heatproof) to get rid of the domed appearance. If you ever had an Apple III, this will likely be familiar to you. Cool on a wire rack (best left on baking sheet for a few minutes if possible - they're very fragile at first). Do attempt not to burn your mouth eating them - this is the tricky part, as they smell absolutely gorgeous.
And this is what they look like:
Yes, I know the recipe says that it makes 32, and there are only 31 there. You don't think I'd post this without making sure they were right, now do you?
8 oz plain flour (yes, by weight. You Americans only use volume because way back when, accurate scales were hard to come by)
4 oz margarine (really margarine. 99.9% of the time, butter is better for baking. This is the exception)
4 oz granulated sugar
4 oz golden syrup (2 tablespoons or thereabouts) (Americans and expats in America can substitute with a roughly 2:1 mix of light corn syrup and mild molasses - it's not right, but it's close enough as long as you don't mind them being crunchy instead of chewy. And you really should weigh this - two tablespoons was nowhere near enough, I had to add more as the mixer went. When weighing, I suggest using a small bowl that you've greased. Cooking spray works well for this.)
pinch salt
1/2 teaspoon bicarbonate of soda
1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1 teaspoon ground ginger
1 teaspoon mixed spice (doesn't seem to be sold by Safeway; I used a quarter-teaspoon each of nutmeg and cloves, and a half-teaspoon of allspice, and I'm happy with that)
Preheat oven to 200 degrees C/Gas Mark 6/395 degrees F
EITHER sift together dry ingredients, rub in margarine, add syrup and mix together to form a smooth pliable paste
OR (what I do) bung everything into food processor and whizz until it forms a ball
By hand, roll into a long sausage. Cut off small sections and shape into balls (makes 32). Place on greased baking tray, leaving plenty of room for spreading. Bake on top shelf until golden (about 7 minutes), then on a lower shelf to drop and spread for 4 - 5 minutes. When you take them out of the oven, slap the baking sheet down onto a heat-resistant surface (the top of your stove is generally ideal, being solid and heatproof) to get rid of the domed appearance. If you ever had an Apple III, this will likely be familiar to you. Cool on a wire rack (best left on baking sheet for a few minutes if possible - they're very fragile at first). Do attempt not to burn your mouth eating them - this is the tricky part, as they smell absolutely gorgeous.
And this is what they look like:
Yes, I know the recipe says that it makes 32, and there are only 31 there. You don't think I'd post this without making sure they were right, now do you?
Friday, May 7, 2010
A nation of shoppers.
I'm rather lucky where I live; ignoring the abusive employer, I have three different supermarkets (US English: grocery stores) within a reasonable distance of my home. I shop at all three; one is good for basics, but doesn't do produce well, one does produce exceptionally well but can be tricky to find basics in, and one has more esoteric stuff (such things as cheese with flavour, beer with flavour, steel-cut oats for my breakfasts, and so on) that the other two don't carry.
Unfortunately, until today, all three of them lacked something I wish was more common: peeled shrimp/prawns. Shell-on, sure. Tail-on, sure, but you know what? Like everyone else on the planet, I don't eat the tail. It has no place in my food.
Fortunately, today I found such shrimp. They'll be a regular item as long as I can get 'em.
Now, if only I had any idea how to cook swordfish...
Unfortunately, until today, all three of them lacked something I wish was more common: peeled shrimp/prawns. Shell-on, sure. Tail-on, sure, but you know what? Like everyone else on the planet, I don't eat the tail. It has no place in my food.
Fortunately, today I found such shrimp. They'll be a regular item as long as I can get 'em.
Now, if only I had any idea how to cook swordfish...
Friday, October 16, 2009
It's the little things.
Small details that make the difference.
In general, food shopping here is very similar to in the UK. However, some things differ. For instance, vegetables. I cannot find runner beans here. It's as if they don't exist. On the other hand, celeriac is easy to find, if only I had a really good use for it.
Sausages; I can't find sausages such as I grew up with. Nor can I find back bacon.
Lamb is very rarely found, although I'm not concerned about that since I dislike lamb.
Cheese is much restricted in its selection.
And on another note entirely, we have a new contender in the "classiest clothing" award: an oversized sleeveless t-shirt advertising a bail bond service. Stay classy, sir!
In general, food shopping here is very similar to in the UK. However, some things differ. For instance, vegetables. I cannot find runner beans here. It's as if they don't exist. On the other hand, celeriac is easy to find, if only I had a really good use for it.
Sausages; I can't find sausages such as I grew up with. Nor can I find back bacon.
Lamb is very rarely found, although I'm not concerned about that since I dislike lamb.
Cheese is much restricted in its selection.
And on another note entirely, we have a new contender in the "classiest clothing" award: an oversized sleeveless t-shirt advertising a bail bond service. Stay classy, sir!
Friday, August 14, 2009
Back to the Big Shop
Yes, I've been back to Ikea. Now I have my own pans, a wok, and suchlike.
I also have... little better understanding of the roads surrounding it. They were the cause of a minor row between the LA and me last time, and this time, well, I got lost. Eventually I found myself on the right freeway, but heading the wrong way. Fortunately, I had a plan for that, and wound up taking the scenic route home. I do somewhat regret not taking the Cummings Skyway, though; it's a beautiful road.
And I'm almost at the point of having my odometer show all twos. When it does, count on pictures!
I also have... little better understanding of the roads surrounding it. They were the cause of a minor row between the LA and me last time, and this time, well, I got lost. Eventually I found myself on the right freeway, but heading the wrong way. Fortunately, I had a plan for that, and wound up taking the scenic route home. I do somewhat regret not taking the Cummings Skyway, though; it's a beautiful road.
And I'm almost at the point of having my odometer show all twos. When it does, count on pictures!
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
On cooking
I've just made a very pleasant beef dish, having worked out the recipe from first principles. My mother would know it as Swedish Sailor's.
The recipe is very simple: a suitable amount of joined-up beef (skirt is ideal), a suitable amount of onion (somewhat more than you expect to want), and some potatoes, sliced into roughly centimetre-thick discs. Some swede is good but optional. Roughly chop and soften the onions, then add the cubed beef, with salt, lots of pepper, and appropriate herbs and spices (I use garlic, paprika and a little mustard). Brown the beef, then transfer it into a suitably sized ovenproof dish, and add the cubed swede if you want it. Lay the potatoes out in a layer on top, and deglaze the pan in which you browned the beef. Pour the resulting delicious stock over the potatoes, and cover the dish with foil. Bake in the middle of a 450°F oven for about 40 minutes, then remove the foil, move to the top shelf, and bake for another half hour or so, until the potatoes are browned and crispy. This goes very well with brassicas of any kind, and is also exceedingly good with a British-style beer.
The recipe is very simple: a suitable amount of joined-up beef (skirt is ideal), a suitable amount of onion (somewhat more than you expect to want), and some potatoes, sliced into roughly centimetre-thick discs. Some swede is good but optional. Roughly chop and soften the onions, then add the cubed beef, with salt, lots of pepper, and appropriate herbs and spices (I use garlic, paprika and a little mustard). Brown the beef, then transfer it into a suitably sized ovenproof dish, and add the cubed swede if you want it. Lay the potatoes out in a layer on top, and deglaze the pan in which you browned the beef. Pour the resulting delicious stock over the potatoes, and cover the dish with foil. Bake in the middle of a 450°F oven for about 40 minutes, then remove the foil, move to the top shelf, and bake for another half hour or so, until the potatoes are browned and crispy. This goes very well with brassicas of any kind, and is also exceedingly good with a British-style beer.
Sunday, December 7, 2008
On poultry
So, despite it being Thanksgiving recently, and Christmas soon, I decided to roast a small amount of turkey. Part of this was because it was on discount after Thanksgiving, and part was simply because I like the leg meat, and the turkey joint that my mother-in-law roasted for Thanksgiving didn't include any. The LA hasn't liked leg meat in the past, but I'm hoping she'll be OK with this. If not, there's plenty of white meat.
However, this leaves open the question of what I ought to roast for Christmas. I'm partial to beef, since the LA dislikes pork and I dislike lamb, but there is also the option of duck.
However, this leaves open the question of what I ought to roast for Christmas. I'm partial to beef, since the LA dislikes pork and I dislike lamb, but there is also the option of duck.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
On food preparation
I enjoy cooking. However, I have a tendency to stick to dishes which I know work.
Today, I'm branching out some. Starting with potatoes, tuna, a white sauce and some breadcrumbs and cheese. Hopefully the resulting baked thingummy will be nice...
Today, I'm branching out some. Starting with potatoes, tuna, a white sauce and some breadcrumbs and cheese. Hopefully the resulting baked thingummy will be nice...
Thursday, July 17, 2008
On the stones
Thanks to the LA's mother, who despite the stereotypes about a man and his mother-in-law I love, I have some baking stones. They're basically unglazed quarry tiles, and they're currently in the oven, baking a small loaf of home-made bread. After the fun of various job-hunt stuff while mildly ill yesterday, bread was a very desireable substance, and it wanted to be fresh. Can't get much fresher than that.
Half a pound of flour (US standard general purpose turned out to be strong enough, although it took longer than I expected for the gluten to develop), a pinch of salt, a little sugar, some active dry yeast (quick yeast; lovely suff) and a sufficient amount of warm water later (the water is one of those things I just don't measure; it's quicker to do it by feel), I had a ball of dough, which I placed in an oiled bowl to rise. It did so, and then I kneaded it again, placed it on the stones and let it rise again. Slashed the top with a wet knife, and now it's baking.
I'll put some photos up when it's done.
And now, the photos are up.
Half a pound of flour (US standard general purpose turned out to be strong enough, although it took longer than I expected for the gluten to develop), a pinch of salt, a little sugar, some active dry yeast (quick yeast; lovely suff) and a sufficient amount of warm water later (the water is one of those things I just don't measure; it's quicker to do it by feel), I had a ball of dough, which I placed in an oiled bowl to rise. It did so, and then I kneaded it again, placed it on the stones and let it rise again. Slashed the top with a wet knife, and now it's baking.
I'll put some photos up when it's done.
And now, the photos are up.
Thursday, July 3, 2008
On your feet!
So, I realised that I actually lacked any suitable shoes to wear with a suit. I headed out today in search of such.
Do you have any IDEA how expensive shoes are? The first pair I tried were decent, but... $450? For that price, I want them custom... second pair had a weird bump in the footbed, and were "only" $205. Note to self: avoid that shoe store. It's scary expensive.
So I wound up cruising the reduced racks at Nordstrom and found a pair of Eccos for a sensible price.
Although Mum, if you feel like putting my leather-soled black boots in your case, my dance teacher (!) recommends leather soles over rubber. The Eccos will do brilliantly for work shoes too.
And on another subject, I dislike cooking electric. The problem is thermal inertia; it takes too much time for the heat applied to alter. I'm so used to gas that I always turn things down late. I know the scent of boiling over far too well...
Do you have any IDEA how expensive shoes are? The first pair I tried were decent, but... $450? For that price, I want them custom... second pair had a weird bump in the footbed, and were "only" $205. Note to self: avoid that shoe store. It's scary expensive.
So I wound up cruising the reduced racks at Nordstrom and found a pair of Eccos for a sensible price.
Although Mum, if you feel like putting my leather-soled black boots in your case, my dance teacher (!) recommends leather soles over rubber. The Eccos will do brilliantly for work shoes too.
And on another subject, I dislike cooking electric. The problem is thermal inertia; it takes too much time for the heat applied to alter. I'm so used to gas that I always turn things down late. I know the scent of boiling over far too well...
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
On baking
I'm trying out something new to me: following a recipe. Normally, I'm completely incapable of this task, but an intuitive understanding of What Works (thanks, Mum!) saves me from producing inedible messes. Today, though, it's baking, which is more science than art, as opposed to cooking, which is more art than science.
I have taken the recipe in question from my sister, who let me have it by request. I did need to make some substitutions: I don't have self-raising flour (which can be worked around by a standard method, and I did so), I don't have whole milk, just skimmed (that's an unknown), and I don't have mustard powder (so I added a similar quantity of paprika). The method is easy, and the scones are just about to come out of the oven.
And here they are, fresh as can be. Yes, that ninth one is a little scruffy; I'll put it out of its misery as soon as it's dropped below "scorchingly hot". They're actually octagonal, since I also lack a cutter; I used a drinking glass, and the ones which are the right size are octagonal. I like the effect.
Now, if I were to do it again purely for myself, I'd make one slight change: I'd add chopped onion or shallot on top. The LA wouldn't like that, though, so it's not been done this time. I expect them to be lovely without, though.
I have taken the recipe in question from my sister, who let me have it by request. I did need to make some substitutions: I don't have self-raising flour (which can be worked around by a standard method, and I did so), I don't have whole milk, just skimmed (that's an unknown), and I don't have mustard powder (so I added a similar quantity of paprika). The method is easy, and the scones are just about to come out of the oven.
And here they are, fresh as can be. Yes, that ninth one is a little scruffy; I'll put it out of its misery as soon as it's dropped below "scorchingly hot". They're actually octagonal, since I also lack a cutter; I used a drinking glass, and the ones which are the right size are octagonal. I like the effect.
Now, if I were to do it again purely for myself, I'd make one slight change: I'd add chopped onion or shallot on top. The LA wouldn't like that, though, so it's not been done this time. I expect them to be lovely without, though.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
On oggies
Thanks to my mum, I have two pasties in the fridge.
No, she didn't make them. I did. She just gave me the hints I needed to get them right.
Pastry: 8oz flour, 4oz butter, a pinch of salt and enough water.
Sift the flour into a bowl, grate the frozen butter into it (yes, that's right, the butter should be frozen; this is how my mum does it, and So Mote It Be), and use a spoon or similar to mix gently until all the shavings of butter are covered in flour. Add the salt and mix a bit more, then add the water slowly until the pastry comes together as a solid ball. Then, set it aside in the fridge for later. Doing it in the morning is a good idea.
Filling: enough good beef (skirt is best, decent steak is good enough, stewing steak tends not to be), a reasonable amount of finely chopped onion, a chunkily diced potato, and about as much diced swede (rutabaga, if you prefer) as you have potato.
Also needed: a beaten egg.
Roll out the pastry to thin and big enough (this recipe is for two good-sized pasties) and try to get it as close to circular as you can. You'll need to have floured the work surface. Now brush beaten egg around the edge, and then start filling: put a layer of onion, then swede, potato, and then meat on the half that's furthest from you, and then do it again. Now you want freshly ground black pepper, salt, and a pinch of flour and some butter. Now comes the tricky part: folding the thing closed. You'll need to stretch the pastry, and get it to meet around the edge. Now comes the crimp, which is something with a knack to it. You need to pull out the sealed edge and then roll it over on itself. Start from the right, and when you reach the left, fold the remainder over back towards the start. Now do all this again as many times as you're making pasties.
Finally, place the pasties on a greased baking sheet, cut a small slit in the top of each for ventilation, and brush them with beaten egg. Bake for 20 minutes at 425 Fahrenheit, then reduce to 325 and give them another 40 minutes. Serve on their own, and enjoy!
Oggy is Cornish for pasty. The chant of "Oggy oggy oggy" is all the Cornish most people know, and some of those think it's Welsh or Australian. Which reminds me, I must have a word with Tappy...
No, she didn't make them. I did. She just gave me the hints I needed to get them right.
Pastry: 8oz flour, 4oz butter, a pinch of salt and enough water.
Sift the flour into a bowl, grate the frozen butter into it (yes, that's right, the butter should be frozen; this is how my mum does it, and So Mote It Be), and use a spoon or similar to mix gently until all the shavings of butter are covered in flour. Add the salt and mix a bit more, then add the water slowly until the pastry comes together as a solid ball. Then, set it aside in the fridge for later. Doing it in the morning is a good idea.
Filling: enough good beef (skirt is best, decent steak is good enough, stewing steak tends not to be), a reasonable amount of finely chopped onion, a chunkily diced potato, and about as much diced swede (rutabaga, if you prefer) as you have potato.
Also needed: a beaten egg.
Roll out the pastry to thin and big enough (this recipe is for two good-sized pasties) and try to get it as close to circular as you can. You'll need to have floured the work surface. Now brush beaten egg around the edge, and then start filling: put a layer of onion, then swede, potato, and then meat on the half that's furthest from you, and then do it again. Now you want freshly ground black pepper, salt, and a pinch of flour and some butter. Now comes the tricky part: folding the thing closed. You'll need to stretch the pastry, and get it to meet around the edge. Now comes the crimp, which is something with a knack to it. You need to pull out the sealed edge and then roll it over on itself. Start from the right, and when you reach the left, fold the remainder over back towards the start. Now do all this again as many times as you're making pasties.
Finally, place the pasties on a greased baking sheet, cut a small slit in the top of each for ventilation, and brush them with beaten egg. Bake for 20 minutes at 425 Fahrenheit, then reduce to 325 and give them another 40 minutes. Serve on their own, and enjoy!
Oggy is Cornish for pasty. The chant of "Oggy oggy oggy" is all the Cornish most people know, and some of those think it's Welsh or Australian. Which reminds me, I must have a word with Tappy...
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