I made ice cream sandwiches the other day; as a pastime and as a source of deliciousness, I highly recommend it.
I will confess, I was lazy and bought the ice cream (on a great sale, too) rather than making it myself because I did not feel like making ice cream. THERE I SAID IT. I am on vacation and had plenty of time, but I felt like buying it (full of all kinds of preservatives and "chocolate flavored chips" even) rather than making it myself.
Also, the freezer bowl wasn't frozen. So there's that.
Anyway, they were delicious! And quite easy...
I just made Smitten Kitchen's oreos (which I have also made as actual oreos, which were a hit among people who like oreos... which does not include me) but, of course, without the filling. I would also recommend undercooking them a bit, for extra chewiness and less crunchiness.
I filled them with mint chocolate chip ice cream -- softened, of course, by letting it sit in the fridge for a while and on the counter for a while -- squished down, wrapped in wax paper and froze 'till solid.
We then carried them in a cooler onto a river, where we ate them while floating along in tubes. Again, as a wonderful summer experience... highly recommended! I will posit that just while food is more delicious the higher up a mountain you are, ice cream is also more delicious the farther from ice cream trucks you are.
But even if you don't have a river to float down, make some ice cream cookies! they are quite delicious, AND very fun to squish together!
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
ice cream sandwiches
Friday, May 30, 2008
Curried pea and green onion frittata
When we left my grandma's house after Memorial Day weekend, she spent the last hour steadfastly heaping up a mound of food we absolutely had to take home with us. "It's a long drive," she said, putting enough vegetables in baggies to last us all week.
I understand the motivation; for me, too, food is an expression of love. Still, we could not help but laugh as the pile grew higher and filled one bag, then another, then another. "What kind of cookies would you like, oreos or macademia nut?"
"Grandma, we don't need any cookies. We don't want any cookies!"
"Okay, how about oreos?"
My aunt, meanwhile, offered us not only food, but EVERYTHING. Not just strawberries and brownies and cheesecake, but also science fiction novels, massive blue beanbag chairs, a full-length mirror, a cheese grater, a stack of magazines... any time I complimented something, it seemed her next words were, "Do you like it? Do you want it? I'll buy another!"
I did give in when it came to the magazines and the books... because, books! I can't turn down books. I think it's coded in my genome that I am a sucker for books. And the magazines were, more specifically, issues of Bon Appetit. For the cover pictures alone, I had to take them.
And from the very first one I opened, I found a keeper! Curried Pea Frittata with Fresh Tomato Chutney. Or in our case, without the fresh tomato chutney, as we lacked fresh tomatoes.
The real miracle here is that we had just gotten back from a weekend away, and hadn't had a chance to go shopping, and the recipe happened to call only for ingredients we had. Even the green onions -- a couple of weeks ago there was a huge bunch at the dollar store, in one of those special breathing bags for vegetables. As it hadn't been opened, they were still good, which is both impressive and scary, if you ask me.
So I basically followed the recipe, something I've been doing rarely enough lately, and it turned out pretty excellently. I used a little less curry powder than the recipe called for, since I only had Madras curry powder, which is rather on the hot side. Alas, my adjustments were unnecessary; I could have used the full allotment just fine. Heat and quantity aside, adding the curry powder is a stroke of genius.
And I'm sure the chutney would have been delicious.
Curried Pea Frittata with Fresh Tomato Chutney, from Bon Appetit, June 2008.
1 12-ounce container grape tomatoes
1 tablespoon packed dark brown sugar
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1 small garlic clove, peeled
1 1/8-inch-thick round peeled fresh ginger, chopped
8 large eggs
1/4 cup freshly grated parmesan cheese
2 teaspoons curry powder
1/4 teaspoon (generous) salt
3 tablespoons olive oil
2 green onions, chopped
1 cup frozen peas, thawed
Preheat broiler. Place tomatoes, brown sugar, cumin, garlic and ginger in processor. Using on/off turns, blend just until tomatoes are coarsely chopped. Transfer chutney to small bowl; reserve processor bowl. Season chutney to taste with salt and pepper.
Beat eggs thoroughly with a whisk. (The original recipe called for a food processor, but definitely not necessary. Add the cheese, curry powder and salt, and whisk until completely blended.
Heat oil in large, broilerproof nonstick skillet over medium-high heat. Add green onions and peas. Saute until onions wilt, about 1 minute (Or two, maybe three. Just saying.) Add the egg mixture. Cook until top is almost set and the bottom is golden, lifting edges to let uncooked egg flow underneath, about 7 minutes. (Mine took a tad longer.)
Place frittata in broiler until top is set, about 1 minute. Run heatproof rubber spatula around frittata to loosen and slide out onto plate. Serve warm or at room temperature with tomato chutney.
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
Tofu, carrot and squash stir-fry
Stir-fry is my default dish, my lazy option, my fallback, my "ah shoot what are we gonna eat tonight" standby. Stir-fry is what I make when I haven't planned far enough ahead, or left myself enough time, or worked up the energy or motivation to put a real effort into dinner.
So stir-fry is something I make a lot, in other words.
But it doesn't mean I make it well. Practice doesn't always make perfect, you know. You were lied to all along.
Or maybe not. Maybe practice does sometimes lead to perfection, because I actually managed to make really good stir-fry! I was excited!
(That's right, eating it straight out of a tupperware container. On dance lesson nights, we really class it up.)
I mean, making stir-fry is simple. Chop stuff up, heat the wok, toss stuff in and stir. Add sauce, cover and steam, then serve over rice. But simple doesn't mean easy, and like many deceptively simple things, there is a definite art to making stir-fry. I think it's actually a pretty even combination of science and art. The science is in the prep work; slicing, dicing and chopping so that the food is all of a consistent size and thickness is very important. The art is in the timing.
Oh, the timing! When to throw in the vegetables so that the protein is browned but not overdone, all the vegetables cooked, but not mushy... how long to let it steam with the sauce, so that everything is flavorful but nothing overdone. I almost never get it perfectly right, but tonight, I think I really almost did!
Of course, that means I totally bollocksed the rice. Crunchy and wet. Mm. Delightful. But it's okay! I'm over it! It keeps me humble! Sure, I thought I had conquered the whole inability-to-make-rice thing months ago, but it's okay! I improvised.
Those noodles that look all cool and asian, maybe like soba noodles or something? Leftover whole-grain spaghetti! That's what I'm talkin' bout!
Anyway, stir fry is an awesome Young Broke and Clueless meal. While it may be very difficult to make really excellent stir-fry, it's quite easy to make decent stir-fry. It's also very quick; not counting the half-hour that the tofu was pressing dry, it took my 40 minutes from 'oh, should I start making dinner?' to stuffing my face. And despite all those books advertising '30-minute meals' and '20-minute meals,' I'm not sure I can cook anything worth eating quite that fast. 40 minutes is pretty good.
Best of all, it's cheap! Tonight's meal used 1/2 a block of tofu ($.50), 1 carrot ($.08), 1/2 an onion ($.07), 1 squash ($.50), 1/4 of a green pepper and 1/4 of a red pepper ($.50 total), 1 egg ($.16), a clove of garlic, a bit of ginger, and a tablespoon or two each of canola oil, soy sauce, and sesame oil. I won't even bother adding the cost of that up. If I'd used rice, like I'd planned to, that would have been 1 cup, and my bag (50 cups) cost twelve bucks (wonder how much it would cost me now...), so that's $.24.
All told? $2.05 for two people, generously. I think my math might even be right!
Long story short? Stir fry is amazing!
Saturday, May 3, 2008
On cluelessness and mango-corn salsa
I am hanging out at the apartment of our buddy James, a cool dude who apparently subsists on peanut butter sandwiches and granola. How... how is that possible?
I guess I've just got a skewed perspective. I spend most of my time with myself (obscenely fond of cooking), William (thinks popping an Eggo in the toaster counts as dinner, bless his heart, but he does appreciate good food) and Andrew, who is a kick-ass cook. So from that sample, cooking seems a perfectly normal pastime for folks my age.
James' cooking supplies, as far as I can tell, consist of: 1 very small skillet, 1 small saucepan, currently full of markers, and a small knife. His pantry consists of olive oil, chili powder, a bag of sugar, lots of peanut butter, and precious little else. We were having a taco night, and I innocently inquired as to the existence of a cheese grater, or a can opener, or a cooking sheet/baking pan -- and he blinked at me, said, "You're asking quite a lot, you know," and handed me a knife and some aluminum foil.
James just glanced at what I'm writing, and he's laughing at me. What? What can I say? I would kill myself if I had to live like that! (William and Andrew both submit that buying more cooking supplies would probably be a better bet than killing myself. Oh voices of reason.)
Right now, I guess I don't feel quite as clueless as I usually do. Or rather, I feel just as clueless -- it's just a reminder that I do, indeed, have plenty of time to figure this all out. After all, by my standards, James is fully adult. I still feel, sometimes, like I'm just playing house and pretending to be all growned up. Every failure makes me feel more like an imposter.
Sometimes it is nice to remember that home-cooked gourmet meals aren't actually expected to be part of being 19 and on your own -- or 25 and on your own. It's sort of a bonus. Totally optional! No pressure at all.
Except that I'm broke, and have a fondness for really good food. So if I want it, I have to make it myself... and boy, do I want it. Mm. Good food. Just thinking about it...
I made some mango-corn salsa that was actually quite good. It consisted of:
1 mango, diced
A cup or so of frozen corn, defrosted
maybe 1/4 of cilantro, chopped
1/2 t paprika
1/4 t cayenne pepper
1 tablespoon lime juice
Mixed together and refrigerated while the flavors got to know each other... I really liked it. Would have been better with onions, but ah well. Other people respect my dietary restrictions -- it's the least I can do.
Seriously, though. 1 skillet. 1 tiny, tiny saucepan. I just... I can't even imagine.
"What do you eat??"
*Shrug* Leftovers from site. Sandwiches. I dunno!"
I just can't... *shudder*
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
superquick pasta to go
On Wednesdays we have our balboa lessons at 7, meaning that dinner has exactly 1 hour to be prepared and eaten after I get home. This Wednesday, that meant pasta.
That's right. Straight into a to-go container, because I never can seem to get it done quite in time.
I was going to make an alfredo sauce for William and a red sauce for me, but, alas! the leftover crushed tomatoes I had been saving had gone bad, bad, bad. It's a challenge I have discovered with only have two people to feed -- we frequently only use half a can of beans, a quarter of a head of lettuce, or half a can of crushed tomatoes, and don't get around to using the remainder until it's gone bad. Since buying in bulk is usually cheaper overall, it's an extra challenge when trying to eat cheap.
As I sniffed the tupperware container in despair, I realized with utter clarity that I should have whipped up a huge batch of tomato-based sauce the last time I made it, using all the crushed tomatoes, and freezed the leftovers. Oh well. Lesson learned. Someday I'll be good at this.
Instead, we stuck to alfredo sauce, which was mediocre -- better than the last two times I tried, which were disastrous, but I'm afraid that's all I can say for it. And since I pretty much hate alfredo sauce, it has to be spectacular before I enjoy it. Needless to say, I was scowly about dinner.
Plus steamed asparagus and a little bit of leftover red pepper and walnut stuff (I'd whipped it up last week to put on garlic bread), it was a meal, at least. I did remember how much I hate mediocre alfredo sauce. It's a good thing William loves cheesy sauces so much -- he, at least, was happy, and that did make me feel a little better about my poor planning and sad, rotten tomatoes.
Just a little.