Maybe you think we just stopped eating.... Not true.

This morning I made Savory or Sweet Crêpes, page 649.

[Preferring salt over sugar, I made Savory. It's just the taste of the crêpe I want savory though; I like a bit of jam on them.]

I made a half-batch, and used one egg instead of two (because eggs are kind of gross--and the thought of two was too much). Perfectly fine.

The Joy speaks the truth: "Savory crêpes make an elegant brunch, lunch, or supper."

easy. terrific.

Hello New Year!

If I can convince you to make one thing for eating, as you greet 2010, let it be Tomato and Goat Cheese Quiche, page 109.

Last week, on one of those nights where you wake up at 7:30pm, having fallen asleep to the sweet sounds of npr-in-the-evening, I impulsively decided that it was not another night for 2 (by 2 I mean 3) glasses of wine and cold cheese and crackers, with a side of sad and lonely, and the company of tv-on-the-computer; and that, being a grown-up, I would make a proper meal.
I have the cookbook, after all, right? shit ya!

Impulsive dinner-preparation starting at 8pm can go in two very different directions.

It can be a disaster, and leave you feeling lonelier that you began.
But it can save the night.


Tomato and Goat Cheese Quiche totally saved the night.
Yay to being grown-up enough that I had eggs and milk and goat cheese and plum tomatoes and a bit of flour and butter in my fridge (even if not grown up enough to stay up after work until a normal bedtime).

Here's the weird thing -- as you may have garnered from past posts, I'm not an egg-fan! I can hardly stand to think about them. but every now and then an egg-based meal seems do-able.

This recipe serves 6. Confession: I ate 3 people's quiche that night. I'm not even embarrassed because it felt so good and tasty and wholesome.
I had thought, going into it that I'd have dinner and lunches for the week. ...try 2 days.
In fact this was so good, I couldn't get it out of my head, and talked about it with a lot of people, and kept thinking about the next time I'd be able to eat and/or make more T-G-C-Quiche.

This quiche, and the obsession it triggered in me, was so basic and satisfying, that I'm left to think my love/need for it has to do with a protein-trigger/vegetarian deficit thing I've got going on without knowing it. (I guess I've lapsed with the beans and nuts?...and been too reliant on the milk-fat and bread?) and for that, I say, amen--blessed be. ...as long as this eggy fat dish doesn't make me think about eggs and has me driven to have more, I'm going to ride it -- I'd rather guzzle a dozen eggs than eat fake-soy-meat. Seriously, soy protein in it's myriad forms might be the most fucking disgusting item available to consumers. like it should be right next to the jar of pig knuckles.
So I'll do a little egg-time -- as long as it tastes good.

OK.
I've now made this 3 times.
the first as above.
the second yesterday in baby-quiche form for a new year's eve party.
and the third, this afternoon, in an ingenious using-leftover way!

notes:

The Joy says to use Pat-in-the-Pan Butter Dough (page 666) or Basic Pie or Pastry Dough (page 665). I decided to go for the basic pastry dough. Hating vegetable shortening, and obviously not going to use the lard of the basic dough, what I made was closer to the Deluxe Butter Pie or Pastry Dough [Pâte Brisée] (page 665)...but even that calls for some v.shortening, and I replaced that with butter.
All butter.
Because I'm rich.
no. actually because vegetable shortening is so gross an innovation I can't even think about it without vomiting. and while I'm sure I unwittingly consume it and love it regularly, I would never ever be able to buy it or cook with it. I don't care how fantastically flaky it makes crusts.

it was fine. good even. delicious.

The custard mix calls for more half-and-half than milk -- I reversed this. still an awful lot of half-and-half to throw into a dinner, if you ask me. ...and it was fine. didn't miss the 1/4 cup of fat amidst the fat....

Dried parsley works fine. use a heaping teaspoon. it's winter. why spend $2 on fresh parsley, of which you'll use 1/10 before it goes soupy in the crisper drawer?

Same for dried basil. I'd use fresh if I had it--basil would never go to goop in my fridger, whatever season--I could eat it plain...but the recent bunches of basil I've seen have screamed wet-rot and poor washing, if not e coli. not worth the money/food-rot-belly. the taste of fresh basil can wait for summer or whenever the shops have vibrant bunches.
Dried basil, a giant heaping tablespoon, filled the wintery-cold void.

Recipe calls for brushing crust with a yolk, and then using 3 full eggs in the custard. Because I have egg-issues (too many gross me OUT) & food-wasting issues (I don't use enough eggs to save whites--and they just seem too sacred/valuable to toss down the drain) & still have a compulsive recipe-following-need, I did some gut-equations, used a yolk to brush the crust, and used the yolk's white and two eggs for the custard. no impact noticed. voila. recession-Joy!

notes on the 3 Variations:

for the 1st run, straight-up T-G-C-Quiche, with my version of rich flaky pastry crust, I misread (didn't read) the instructions, and did not bake the crust first, before filling.
I, having a Prole-palette admittedly, didn't miss the pre-baking.

2nd run -- Quiche-Babies!! pain in the neck to press the "pat-in-the-pan" butter crust (page 666) into muffin tins. I'd do it better next time. not as much dough needed in each tin! I did pre-bake them though. in the end, they were a little dark--but came out of the pan beautifully (thank you fat-content!)...and served their purpose: pretty party food.

nostalgia-recollection: when my mom had her business, in the Bonfire of the Vanities heyday, fancy food trends were all about tiny incarnations of regular fancy food. I remember the plates of perfect baby quiche. I hated the idea of eating quiche (egg! vomit!) ... but I admired the perfection. ...I thought of those images about a million times last night. how did she do that--so perfectly--in addition to the 20 other things she'd make for a party? ...also, I made 24. I think she'd make 100 at a time.

3rd run -- New Year's Day -- remnants -- had half of the filling left over in a jar in the refrigerator from last night's babies. did up a proper butter pastry crust--pre-baked it (pre-baking definitely makes it pretty and shiny), sliced the remaining tomatoes, and filled it up! awesome. so freaking good. Let it be known: slicing half of the called for tom.s into 1/8s instead of 1/4s and spoking them in the dish, and using half of the prescribed filling totally worked--and didn't even look lesser-than. Super-Recession-Joy!

I have had one terrific slice. And will have another before midnight!

Happy 2010.

Comfort Food Done Right

Shared chat transcript from 12/31/09:

Terence: back...
me: yo
Terence: need to unload groceries
me: get anything good?
Terence: yeah, cocktail wienies
Terence: stuff for food tomorrow so we don't have to leave
me: pilsbury dough?
Terence:no i think i'll make simple biscuit dough

That's right.

See Biscuits and Scones, page 638.

Oh Joy....

All I'm saying is: I have three ripe bananas sitting on my counter that might make their way into some banana bread tomorrow.

Oatmeal Raisin Cookies... From the Joy!

Philip came over last night for some dominoes and he arrived just in time. Turns out that I'd let myself run out of brown sugar. Not only that, but I never even had the coconut shavings that I hoped to add to the Joy Of Cooking's oatmeal raisin cookie recipe. Thankfully Phillip had both at his house and was willing to measure out and bring over the two ingredients. Meanwhile I walked to the Plaid Pantry for some beer.

I got home, Philip came over and we were ready to finish the dough. By now the butter had been sitting out for quite some time and gave no fight to the wooden spoon. We were ready before long. Then we opted to forgo dominoes for an introductory game of backgammon and moved on to a game of scrabble. Interspersed with our fierce competition were three batches of amazing oatmeal raisin cookies.

They were large enough that eating two was an unavoidable over-indulgence and their baking doubled as my heat for the evening. Like a lot of cookies, there is not that much work involved for what you get. Also, like many cookie recipes, you end up with more cookies than one person should eat within a couple of days. I cannot keep myself from eating cookies. Therefore I have resolved to halve the batch and bring them over to friends' houses tomorrow evening. Wednesday at the latest. I may wait to halve the batch until I'm ready to give them away.

Philip also brought me a great print he did! It just goes to show, you should always bake your friends cookie.

PIZZA NIGHT!

[ed. note: found this draft in the hidden archives. published in partial state. 1/1/10]

The other night I made pizza from the Joy of Cooking. Remembering that Becky posted about her pizza awhile back I thought it would be a good chance to compare Joy recipes.

First I called my sister and got her recommendation for toppings. She chose, no surprise, thinly sliced onions and green pepper. She also reminded me to account for rising time, perhaps knowing that I have a tendency to overlook such minor details.

Then I called Lindsay and asked her to bring over her digital camera. I should note that I often find recipes from the Joy of Cooking and follow them through to dinner (or breakfast, in the case of the cornmeal pancakes), however, it's rare that I have my camera's batteries charged. As soon as I realize that there will be no photo to accompany my post I give up on the idea altogether.

While I waited for Lindsay to bike down to my apartment I mixed up the dough and set it next to my heater to rise. It rose while I prepped the vegetables and made up a salad between sips of wine. When it was time to punch down the dough I was pleased to find it so elastic! It was so easy and fun to knead and then pull into a pie shape. Also: there was so much dough! I made two rather large pies and ate them for the next two days. Reading that back, it strikes me as kind of gross. In actuality, it was quite pleasant.

I rolled the first pie and covered it with the onions and peppers. I threw it in the oven and BAM! It became a real deep dish pie. I was totally surprised by how much it rose in the heat. I had brushed oil on the uncooked crust so that by the time it came out it was good brown, but not burnt.

In order to vary my style, I stretched the second pie so the crust was thinner... half-way hoping to come up with something akin to New York Pizza. Because of that, it became a much larger pie. Since I only have a cookie sheet to bake on, the pie became a rectangle. I topped this one with peppers, onions, pork sausage and greenchiles. There was enough

...here's where our prodigal son's account drops off. still, not bad.
also, appreciate: the lighter and hiking-knife on the counter. jack-of-all-trades.

Looks great, T.

I miss your soup and I miss your bread....

and a letter in your writing doesn't mean you're not dead.
oh why hello there.

Did you think the Joys of Cooking had left town? Well, we haven't.
I seem to be the only one cooking anything from the book...but let's put that aside for now.


The other night I made Creamy Pasta with Chard and Tomatoes, page 328.


There is no picture because, frankly, it was kind of gruesome. ...I think because I used red-stalked chard. The brilliant redness of the chard seeped into the cream, and dyed the creamy sauce and stained the pasta. The result was kind of pinkish-bloody-looking. mmmm! It kind of reminded me of an accident at sea. Although I'm not sure why--since the sea wouldn't be creamy. It made me think of white whale meat--like an attack between a shark and a whale (which I'm fairly sure doesn't happen in real life--but that's what my brain thought).

That unpleasantness aside, I give it high marks. It was quite good.

If you hate all things creamy--or maybe you like cream, but don't like to think about it too much--you might think "gross! I could never use cream in a dinner-recipe!" as I did before trying this. But to be honest, if you just try it, it's not a heavy cream sauce: you can tell yourself to forget about the way the superthick, viscous, so-very-white liquid fat slowly poured from its tiny carton into the measuring cup, and then you'll later marvel that the sauce actually seems light! Impressive, Joy of Cooking!

The bit of red pepper gives it a hint of heat, which is nice.
The Parmesan added at the end really makes the sauce what it is.

Next time I will try it with not-red-stalked chard! I might also substitute spinach for the chard. I think that I will also use a little less cream than the recipe demands--and more tomatoes.

The hardest part for me? the pasta! I'm a mess with pasta. I added salt to the water...I added a little oil...I didn't overcook it. but still I ended up with clumpy chunks of fettuccine. sad. Nothing makes you feel less competent than bad pasta. Time to read "About Cooking Pasta, p320."!