My best friends and I love to get together and have dinner parties. It's an intimate way to be with the people you love; spoiled by fine libations, intelligent conversations, and beautiful foods. It's the best way I know to show someone that I care about them. You come over to my house, I clean it, and light candles. I spend the day in the kitchen for you, I can't really call it work, since I'm thoroughly and happily immersed in my favorite art and craft. We get to spend quality time and learn more about each other. After the party is over, we've strengthened our reciprocal social bonds, and hopefully, we're better off for it. So why is this wonderful tradition on the decline?
Society seems to be more superficial these days. The concepts of speed and convenience are so embedded in our culture, that hardly anyone takes the time to really cook anymore. Ironically, it can cost more to make a nice dinner at home than it would have to eat out, or buy prepared meals. It also takes a lot of time. Still, I always feel it's time and money well spent.
Hopefully, more people will learn to Cook, and throw dinner parties for me. People really worship you when you feed them and give them a moment of luxury.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Lamb Love
I've made magic with lamb lately.
I cooked spezzatino agnello con gremolata (lamb ragout) and roasted potatoes for the Randoms. What a lovely dish! I love the way ragouts happen. They just flow. I really feel the love radiate into the food. This one had lamb, onions, garlic, ginger, citrus zest, and fresh parsley, green beans, zucchini and carrots. So nice.
A few nights ago, it was potato gratin, Jack Monaco's green bean salad, and broiled lamb leg steaks. It was one of those meals that falls together perfectly, is not difficult to execute, and which positively dances on the palate. That's how dinner should be! Too often I get mired down in menus; trying to find foods that are seasonal and that will harmonize with each other. Other times, the menu is easy enough, but the prep time is monumental, and even a full day in the kitchen doesn't feel like enough. Then, of course, there's the meal that just tastes lousy.
An easy, delicious dinner is the prize. Sit down, relax, and toast your blessings! Thanks lambies!
I cooked spezzatino agnello con gremolata (lamb ragout) and roasted potatoes for the Randoms. What a lovely dish! I love the way ragouts happen. They just flow. I really feel the love radiate into the food. This one had lamb, onions, garlic, ginger, citrus zest, and fresh parsley, green beans, zucchini and carrots. So nice.
A few nights ago, it was potato gratin, Jack Monaco's green bean salad, and broiled lamb leg steaks. It was one of those meals that falls together perfectly, is not difficult to execute, and which positively dances on the palate. That's how dinner should be! Too often I get mired down in menus; trying to find foods that are seasonal and that will harmonize with each other. Other times, the menu is easy enough, but the prep time is monumental, and even a full day in the kitchen doesn't feel like enough. Then, of course, there's the meal that just tastes lousy.
An easy, delicious dinner is the prize. Sit down, relax, and toast your blessings! Thanks lambies!
Monday, August 16, 2010
delicious risotto
I made a tasty mushroom risotto for dinner. I love risotto, but I always walk away from it, and she's a very jealous mistress. You have to stir that pot constantly for 20 minutes, no messing around. I am a butterfly in the kitchen. A little bit of this, a little bit of that- turn, drink wine, dance, chop parsley, sing, saute. So risotto and I don't work that well with each other. It came out well anyway.
Ed and Louis harvested about a pound of our green beans, too. I made one of my favorite's, a green bean salad with marinated onions and tarragon.
That was it. It's been nice to recover from a meat heavy vacation by being mainly vegetarian.
Ed and Louis harvested about a pound of our green beans, too. I made one of my favorite's, a green bean salad with marinated onions and tarragon.
That was it. It's been nice to recover from a meat heavy vacation by being mainly vegetarian.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
food my great grandma used to cook
It's funny. I barely remember my Nonni, but the memories I do have are all wrapped around food, like prosciutto around a melon.
She was Italian, and spoke no english, after 75 years here. Our shared language was food. Cheerios with banana sliced painstakingly into the bowl by her wizened old hands. A soup of beef broth with pastina, egg and parmesan. Homemade marinara gravy with roasted sausages simmered in it all day long.
This woman never left the kitchen. God forbid she should set foot in the pristine parlor, or rest her haunches for a minute on the living room couch in front of the t.v. No, her t.v. was a smaller one she watched in the kitchen while cooking. I think that Italian females of this and successive generations felt like less of a woman if they were not constantly and steadily supplying nutrition in the form of bread with plenty of butter, tiny handmade pastas, endless vinegary anti-pastas with peppers and onions, canoli, wine(yes, even as children, we would get wine with ice cubes), and cake from the excellent bakery down the street. I can't help but to love this form of attention. It is pure heaven to sit at a formica table and watch your flesh and blood bustle about as they prepare a meal for you. Even better to sit in a noisy swirl of family at the table; women constantly flowing back and forth from kitchen to table, menfolk drinking liquor between courses, grandma hiding the bottles, eating, talking, and being together. I should have been born an Italian man.
She was Italian, and spoke no english, after 75 years here. Our shared language was food. Cheerios with banana sliced painstakingly into the bowl by her wizened old hands. A soup of beef broth with pastina, egg and parmesan. Homemade marinara gravy with roasted sausages simmered in it all day long.
This woman never left the kitchen. God forbid she should set foot in the pristine parlor, or rest her haunches for a minute on the living room couch in front of the t.v. No, her t.v. was a smaller one she watched in the kitchen while cooking. I think that Italian females of this and successive generations felt like less of a woman if they were not constantly and steadily supplying nutrition in the form of bread with plenty of butter, tiny handmade pastas, endless vinegary anti-pastas with peppers and onions, canoli, wine(yes, even as children, we would get wine with ice cubes), and cake from the excellent bakery down the street. I can't help but to love this form of attention. It is pure heaven to sit at a formica table and watch your flesh and blood bustle about as they prepare a meal for you. Even better to sit in a noisy swirl of family at the table; women constantly flowing back and forth from kitchen to table, menfolk drinking liquor between courses, grandma hiding the bottles, eating, talking, and being together. I should have been born an Italian man.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
real food
The other day, I offered a friend a chip, and she said, "No, thanks, I only eat real food." It really made me think. There is a whole lot of crappy "food" out there. Maybe we need a new word for this stuff we cram into our bodies in the name of consumption. Many of the items we offer our children, and eat ourselves are de-nutrified, overprocessed junk. Most of what is sold as "food" is pretty borderline. So, what is real food? I've narrowed my idea of real food down to 3 factors; speed, origin and vibe.
It doesn't have to be slow-food to be real, although it usually is. The whole slow foods movement originating in Italy is fantastic, and I support it whole-heartedly, but that is the other extreme of junk food. Real food lies somewhere in the middle. You have to be able to make it after a long day, when the kids are nagging at you that they're hungry. Jacque Pepin's "Fast Food My Way" series is a great example of expedient real food. Also, those instant water boilers. Something is wrong with water that boils in less than a minute, but I LIKE it!
Another part of the reality of food is the who. Who made it? Yo mamma? The Honduran woman at the burrito stand? Am I the only one who tries to picture the guy behind the scenes at McDonald's, and exactly what scary preparations he pulls on my meat? You have to be aware of who made it. Were they happy or cross?
A deeper aspect of real food is to know the origin of the ingredients. It scares me that I have no idea where most of what I buy comes from. You really have to search to find tuna from the Oregon ocean, rather than Thailand, or eggs from just one state. It is the ultimate in authenticity to grow your own, but who can grow there own grains? Just think how much grass you would need to support your baking habit for a year. Do you know where your wheat comes from? I don't.
Real food boils down to vibe. You can just feel it when it's genuine. It's the opposite feeling of when you eat a Twinkie. It feels like friends and family around a table, candles and wine. The smell and sound of onions frying. The hard work of dishes and prep. More bread and salad, and less crackers and chips.This is what keeps it real.
It doesn't have to be slow-food to be real, although it usually is. The whole slow foods movement originating in Italy is fantastic, and I support it whole-heartedly, but that is the other extreme of junk food. Real food lies somewhere in the middle. You have to be able to make it after a long day, when the kids are nagging at you that they're hungry. Jacque Pepin's "Fast Food My Way" series is a great example of expedient real food. Also, those instant water boilers. Something is wrong with water that boils in less than a minute, but I LIKE it!
Another part of the reality of food is the who. Who made it? Yo mamma? The Honduran woman at the burrito stand? Am I the only one who tries to picture the guy behind the scenes at McDonald's, and exactly what scary preparations he pulls on my meat? You have to be aware of who made it. Were they happy or cross?
A deeper aspect of real food is to know the origin of the ingredients. It scares me that I have no idea where most of what I buy comes from. You really have to search to find tuna from the Oregon ocean, rather than Thailand, or eggs from just one state. It is the ultimate in authenticity to grow your own, but who can grow there own grains? Just think how much grass you would need to support your baking habit for a year. Do you know where your wheat comes from? I don't.
Real food boils down to vibe. You can just feel it when it's genuine. It's the opposite feeling of when you eat a Twinkie. It feels like friends and family around a table, candles and wine. The smell and sound of onions frying. The hard work of dishes and prep. More bread and salad, and less crackers and chips.This is what keeps it real.
Monday, July 19, 2010
The Garden
My garden is booming right now. The sunshine agrees with it. I have the happiest tomatoes, just set with fruit, and my chives are tall and fat. The basil, celery, parsley and lavender want constant pinches to stay healthy, but the zucchini and pumpkin could give a damn, as long as I water. Everyone's happy.
Now the pressure is on to cook up all this good greenness.
I can't wait for breaded, fried zucchini with tomato sauce and parmesan. It's so light, yet hearty. This year, for the first time, I plan to can tomatoes. Then there is tomato/ basil salad with chive tart. Otherwise I will just plain stuff them in my face. The invasive mint that some people complain about is a wonder to a lousy gardener like me. I randomly wrench it out in big masses, and there is always enough. Mint steamed carrots, hibiscus/mint tea. Chocolate mint. Lavender ice cream anyone?
Now the pressure is on to cook up all this good greenness.
I can't wait for breaded, fried zucchini with tomato sauce and parmesan. It's so light, yet hearty. This year, for the first time, I plan to can tomatoes. Then there is tomato/ basil salad with chive tart. Otherwise I will just plain stuff them in my face. The invasive mint that some people complain about is a wonder to a lousy gardener like me. I randomly wrench it out in big masses, and there is always enough. Mint steamed carrots, hibiscus/mint tea. Chocolate mint. Lavender ice cream anyone?
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Learning to Cook
It seems as if my entire life has been spent learning to cook. It's only in the past few years that I've consciously tried to become a better cuisinier. Along the way so many people have touched me. My mother, with her familiar refrain of "Come and watch me cook", her sauteed mushrooms and baked macaroni with 7 cheeses. My Italian grandmother, who I don't remember, but who taught my Irish mother how to cook. The owner of The Blue Heron in Reno, NV who taught me how to cut an onion CORRECTLY (turns out he was right on, Jacque Pepin uses the same technique). Steve at my first food job, soda jerk, who showed me the correct way to make espresso drinks.Lee Zucker of The LocoMotive Restaurant right here in Eugene, who taught me everything, but above all else, instilled a drive for perfection (damn you Lee!), a scientific approach, and an appreciation of flavor. Also, Julia, Jacques, and my other heroes at PBS, my favorite foodie friends, Robin, Jessica and Lisa, and countless others.
Some things I had to learn by myself, of course; how to get a good crust (higher heat than you'd think!), how to make the genoise rise and the cream puff puff, but without all the help, where would I be?
Some things I had to learn by myself, of course; how to get a good crust (higher heat than you'd think!), how to make the genoise rise and the cream puff puff, but without all the help, where would I be?
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