I blame the butter.
Baking cookies. Fun, right? Easy, right? I mean, this cooking thing is pretty hard, but I have been baking cookies for years. what a great way to relax! What a lovely way to spend the evening!
Peanut butter cookies. How delicious! How delightful!
I blame the butter.
You know these new kinds of butter boxes, where the sticks are shorter and wider, the boxes longer and thinner? Isn't it crazy?
When you're looking at those short little sticks of butter, doesn't it just look like so much less than it is? Like, the 1/2 cup stick looks like 1/4 cup?
Like, you really really feel inclined to add TWO?
I seriously did not figure it out until I was putting them on the pan, thinking, "these aren't holding any shape at all." Despite the fact that it tasted so much like butter, and so little like peanut, that I had already increased the amount of peanut butter -- despite the fact that it was totally the wrong color all along -- despite all of that, I never did figure out that I had added TWICE as much butter. Until that first, sad cookie went plop on the pan.
So I did the logical thing. I wailed and cried. And then I doubled everything else. But gosh, what a nightmare. Whoever invented the special order of cookie-mixing -- beat butter, beat in sugar, mix in dry stuff -- was a GENIUS. It is so much harder other ways! I know, I've tried! And what I have learned is that if you forget the butter, you have to knead it in at the end, and it is difficult and greasy. And if you double the butter, you have to knead more of everything else in at the end, and it is difficult and, believe it or not, greasy.
Huh. Who'd have thunk?
I think that, despite my very best efforts, these cookies might still turn out edible. But I sure wish I would start, you know, paying attention to things. Little things like recipes, and the markings on sticks of butter, and common sense.
Stuff like that.
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
cookie catastrophe
Monday, May 5, 2008
Grocery budgets and COUPONING
I have successfully managed to reduce our $50/week grocery expenses down to $40/week. Whew. Fortunately, the challenge of working meals around what's on sale, and comparing prices between stores, is one my brain appreciates and enjoys.
Unfortunately, I think that to get our food costs down to $30, my real goal, will take something a little extra -- especially with rising food costs. I fear it may take COUPONING.
Don't get me wrong, I use coupons. Sometimes. When I see them in the paper for something we buy anyway and remember to take them to the store. But I don't... I don't coupon. Coupon, for me, is not a verb. And I'm not sure I have what it takes.
Anyway, this week, for 37.32, we bought: three cans of broth, four cans of frozen juice, four little yogurts, arborio rice, 3 bell peppers, gallon freezer bags, 2 boxes of eggo waffles, a pound of squash, a gallon of organic milk, three pounds of onions, three pounds of grapes, a bunch of spinach, a bit of chile powder, 2 pounds of bananas, a pound of carrots, a bunch of celery, two mangos, and a bunch of cilantro. Oh, and a mother's day card.
As I look at that, I guess couponing won't quite be necessary. Granted, this week we had a full pantry that meant we didn't need to buy any beans, rice, or nuts, and we were all set on butter, cheese and eggs... but still. The rice and the mangos were luxuries (for a total of $2 -- yeah, I'm crazy like that), and the organic milk was a combination of my guilty conscience and a serious sale, but was still several bucks more than the good-old-fashioned hormone-filled junk. If you subtract those and the mother's day card, that would put us right about at $30.
And while we usually need to buy a few more staples, we also usually don't buy as much produce. So maybe I can do this without becoming a coupon-downloading, coupon-doubling, fanatic savings-seeking COUPONER. I mean no insult to couponers, really. In fact, I am jealous of your mad skillz. But I think these are not skillz I was meant to have.
(If you have sharp eyes, you may have noticed the arborio rice... oh yes. I am going to make risotto. I don't believe I have ever even had risotto. And all those vegetables? Yup, I'm going to make my own stock, too.
Ambition, thy name is Camila. *wibbles*
Sunday, May 4, 2008
Calcium!
Watch out, world: Camila has a MINERAL song, too!
In case you are new to this game, Camila makes up songs about vitamins. They are vitamin songs. Someday she will make a cd and it will be played in children's nutrition classes all around the world and she will be rich. Someday there will be children's nutrition classes all around the world.
Camila refers to her vitamin songs in the third person because she is more than a little embarrassed by them.
But minerals? This is new! New and exciting! The melody hasn't been nailed down yet, and is hard to type, anyway, but it goes a little like this:
Calcium strength-ens your teeth and your bones,
Calcium flows through your blood-stream!
So drink lots of milk, and jog all around,
Or else you'll discover a truth that is mean...
If you don't get enough calcium or exercise,
a theft will occur before your very eyes.
Your blood will take minerals from your ske-le-ton,
and before you know it life won't be much fun.
(Very deep and solemn) Oooooost-eoooooo-poroooooo-sis.
*Bows*
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*
Capers on pizza
Last night I made pizza -- ham, bacon, and roasted bell pepper for William; eggplant, roasted bell pepper and capers for me; sauce-less eggplant, roasted bell pepper, ham, bacon and capers for Andrew. Gracious, that makes us sound picky.
I bought capers because they seemed like a foodie sort of thing. Did I know what they were? No. Did I know what they tasted like? No. But I had read the words "capers" and "pizza" used together in gourmet contexts before. What more did I need?
Newsflash? Capers aren't that tasty. I always had the vague idea that they were something like raisins. Newsflash? Not really. Well, maybe really sour, salty, pickled raisins. Mmmmmm.
Of course, now that I actually read about capers, I learn that maybe I should have washed them first. Who knew? I sure didn't. I still don't think I'd like them too much, though; they weren't dreadful. But they didn't really add anything I enjoyed to my pizza.
Let's count that experiment as a failure.
Friday, May 2, 2008
enchiladas, spanish rice and refried beans
Dinner last night was quite an adventure. It started the day before, when I first tried to make enchiladas, rice and beans for dinner. I got home very early, at 5, and our balboa lesson wasn't until 7 -- so I had plenty of time, right?? And so I lounged around while William cleaned dishes, and read the paper, and made tortillas (with more jumping on the cast-iron pan, oh yes) and then -- and then it was 6:15! I spazzed and freaked out and moaned at my stupidity, and we had sandwiches for dinner.
So last night, I had plenty of time... and a good thing, too, because it wound up taking me well over two hours to make dinner. The drama started when I was researching enchilada sauces, and couldn't decide between Homesick Texan's chile gravy, or a tomato-based sauce. There was much wibblage.
So then I decided on Homesick Texan's, except I didn't have chile powder. No big, right? And I had fresh cayenne peppers, so I just tossed those in with the oil (chopped up real little) and then made the roux and added the spices (eyeballing most of them, no big, right?) and a little cayenne pepper powder, just in case it wasn't spicy enough (taste it first? are you crazy?), and then a little bit more. And THEN I tasted it, and, well...
Yup, absolutely dreadful. CRAZY hot, but with absolutely no middle tones. Is that what fancy professional tasting-people call it? It was hot, but it had no flavor, if that makes sense. I tried looking online for ways to save my super-hot sauce, and added lime juice and sugar and even cocoa powder, but then I had lime-flavored, sweet, darker-colored super-spiciness without any depth. So that got chucked.
This all took at least forty-five minutes, by the way. It involved the flinging of shoes, much cursing, more spazzage... After I calmed down a bit, with William trying to say soothing things, my second sauce was: 1 can diced tomatoes, pureed; a splat or two of salsa; extra cumin and oregano. I threw up my hands in despair, and declared it done.
I started the spanish rice (Steve's mom's recipe -- how cool is that?) and reheated the tortillas in oil. The tortillas were too thick, and some of them were falling apart, and as I reheated them I could see my future failure unfolding before me. What a disaster. I persevered, filling the tortillas with colby jack and onions like Homesick Texan recommends. Topping the whole thing off with more sauce and cheese, I threw it in the oven and felt like crying.
At the eleventh minute, as it were, I started the beans. Recipe:
1 onion, diced
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 small bell pepper, diced (or 1/2 a green bell pepper and 1/2 a red bell pepper)
1 carrot, chopped
1 can black beans, drained, with liquid reserved
1 can kidney beans, drained
Cumin -- maybe 2 teaspoons?
Saute the onion, garlic, bell pepper and carrot. (I put the carrot in first, because it seems to me to take longer than the onion, but that might not be necessary.) When the onion is just starting to turn translucent, add the beans, cumin and about 1/3 cup of the reserved black bean liquid. Cook over medium-low heat for about 5 minutes, or until the beans are softened; mash with a potato masher, adding more of the bean liquid to achieve the right consistency.
So for dinner we had enchiladas, which caused me a great deal of mental suffering, and rice, which took considerable effort, because I wanted to get it right, and the beans, which I threw together -- and of those three, guess what was the highlight? (I also had some corn that I heated up with lime juice and paprika; it was a nice sort of garnish.) That's right. It was the least-effort, least-worry, last-minute side dish. Why do I even try?
Fortunately, even those poor, sad enchiladas turned out okay. I think the rice suffered a little from the absence of chicken that the recipe called for; I'll have to find some way to properly vegetarian-ize it. But those beans -- I'll go ahead and say it -- were pretty fantastic.
Is it because I have more practice making refried beans? Because I worried less about it? I haven't a clue. But after a stressful night of nearly-disastrous cooking, having at least one really excellent dish cheered me up incredibly. Perhaps I will add a side dish of refried beans to every meal I make, no matter how incongruous it may seem -- just in case.
Thursday, May 1, 2008
bread books
I am just about finished with "The Bread Bible." I learned a lot from it, and now I think it's time to move on and see some other perspectives on bread baking. I've definitely gotten a keeper-recipe from it: her "heart of wheat" bread, with wheat germ in it, is pretty darn delicious. It was also so easy to work with that I'm very concerned I was doing something wrong; it wasn't "extremely sticky" at all.
At any rate, the Bread Bible is headed back to the library. Unfortunately, the three books I want to try next aren't available at that venerable institution.
I've seen "Bread Alone," by Daniel Leader recommended in several places in the blogosphere. In some cases, it is recommended quite enthusiastically. But since Farmgirl is even more fond of his "Local Breads," which is at my library, I guess I'll be using that one, instead.
I started reading "The Bread Baker's Apprentice," by Peter Reinhart, on Amazon. That Search Inside function is brilliant; after reading the excerpt, I am dying to buy this book. Because deep down inside, I wish I was a bread baker's apprentice. I think that's the only way I'll really learn a lot of the things I wish I knew. Again, the library fails me... but they do have his "Crust and Crumb." I guess I'll try it out, as a substitute... *heavy sigh.*
Finally, of course, I want to get my hands on a copy of "Artisan Bread in 5 minutes a day." If you haven't read fifty posts raving about this book, then you must not read many food blogs. It is No-Knead Bread, 2.0. And I wants it, my precious, I wants it!
You know what else I want? I want a name like Crescent Dragonwagon. How awesome is that?!
Anybody have other bread-book recommendations?