Lemon Goodness

Good vs. Evil

2011-10-27T18:53:00.000-04:00

Last night I had the pleasure to attend Good vs. Evil: An Evening with Anthony Bourdain and Eric Ripert. Most people are familiar with Anthony Bourdain through his show No Reservations on the Travel Channel or maybe through some of his books, such as Kitchen Confidential. Eric Ripert has his own show, albeit less publicized, on PBS called Avec Eric.

Let me start by saying that Eric Ripert is handsome. I knew this before I went. I was glad I already knew this, because he and Mr. Bourdain looked pretty small from my seat in the lower nosebleeds. At least I wasn't in the upper nosebleeds. As I expected, many of the audience members were cooks and chefs. This included the three gentlemen seated next to me. I spoke briefly with the one nearest to me. He is a student at Johnson & Wales University and he works for a private chef. I knew he was in the industry based solely upon his attire. It was a dead giveaway. But you're not here to read about the audience--you want to hear about the show.

Mr. Bourdain is quite comfortable speaking in front of a crowd and has perfected his TV voice. Chef Ripert was quieter and less verbose. What he lacked in theatricality he made up for in handsomeness. Did I mention he's handsome?

The show started with Chef Ripert seated on an uncomfortable-looking yellow folding chair, with Mr. Bourdain interviewing him. Chef Ripert was riddled with questions about employing illegal aliens, what he thinks of the Whopper ("satisfying" but "disturbing"), and how many times he's "done Martha Stewart". The two switched places, with Chef Ripert interrogating Mr. Bourdain about his past drug use, his wife's ability to kick ass, and why he thinks he's qualified to be a judge on Top Chef.

After the grillings, both gentlemen sat in armchairs and discussed assorted topics. I was actually wishing Mr. Bourdain would stop talking and let Chef Ripert say something. Chef Ripert is very interesting. And handsome. The topics were all relevant to foodies and chefs, with discussions about sustainability; urban farming; the redecorating of Chef Ripert's restaurant, Le Bernardin; why we should all buy a plane ticket to Asia; Rachael Ray and Paula Deen; fruit baskets; and whether Gordon Ramsay should be allowed a TV show. If you want to know all the details, you'll have to catch the pair at their next stop.

I've been a fan of both men for quite some time, especially Mr. Bourdain. Good vs. Evil gave me additional food for thought (pun intended), plus it gave me the chance to look at Chef Ripert for an hour and a half. He's handsome.

If you're really into food or are fans of either gentleman, I recommend seeing this show if at all possible. If not, they both have a variety of books available online and at your nearest bookstore. Maybe even at your library. Also check out Chef Ripert's website, as well as Mr. Bourdain's No Reservations website. Both sites include television schedules when you can catch both. If you can, try to find the No Reservations where Mr. Bourdain returns for a night working the line at his old restaurant, Les Halles, and brings Chef Ripert with him. Best of both worlds.

It Really Was Mayonnaise from Heaven

2011-10-27T18:24:00.000-04:00

I assume my last post left you wondering how my speech on the wonders of mayonnaise turned out. I got a 98 on it, so I guess it turned out pretty well. I was trying to upload the video of it, but I kept getting an error. You'll just have to believe me when I say how I did. I ended up with mayonnaise, but I can't say that people were that interested. I passed around samples and one classmate said I should get an A+ for taste. When I reviewed the video, I saw that I said "um" and "uh" a combined 15 times, and I said "so" 12 times, but one of those was used appropriately. So I know what I'm doing, but I can't speak.

Like Mayonnaise from Heaven

2011-09-08T14:16:00.000-04:00

I had a rather eye-opening culinary experience today that I thought I would share with my devoted readers and any of you who may have randomly found my blog. I can't say I was horrified by the experience, but I was definitely surprised. I know that my knowledge of food may sometimes surpass that of the average person on the street, yet I am still shocked by how little awareness people have of what they're eating on a daily basis.

I am currently enrolled in a Public Speaking class. Our next assigned speech is a "demonstration speech," better known as a how-to speech. We went around the room, and each student stated what he or she would like to demonstrate for this speech. The answers showed the diversity of the class. One girl will demonstrate how to do a quick weave, another is performing a Jewish dance. One boy will show us either how to tie a bowtie or play the guitar. When it was my turn to speak, I said, "I'd like to show how to make mayonnaise." I was almost embarrassed by the simplicity of my subject. The instructor had said that all demonstrations had to be college-level, so no PBJs or how to tie a shoe. Does making a simple sauce like mayonnaise count as college-level?

I got my answer almost as soon as the words had left my mouth. In unison, half of my class asked, with a tone of sheer astonishment, "You can MAKE mayonnaise?" All I could think was, "What did you think--that it fell from the sky already in the jar?" Granted, most of the people in my class are barely out of high school. But none of them knew that mayonnaise is easily made. The woman next to me asked what all goes in to mayonnaise. "Not much, really." At this point, I paused to stretch, and she pressed further. "Well, are you going to tell me?" I responded with the full list of ingredients--egg yolk, salt, lemon juice or vinegar, oil. She was stunned into silence (which is saying something for her).

The woman had given me an idea though. We have to use an "attention device" at the beginning of our speech to get the attention of the audience. Maybe, for my attention device, I'll read the ingredient label from a jar of Miracle Whip. Yes, that's technically salad dressing, but that's what most people consider mayonnaise. That ingredient list would certainly get their attention.

With the shock and surprise created by my statement, I think I really will demonstrate how to make mayonnaise. It will be a test run for when I get my own cooking show! I'll have to start now. LA and I will be swimming in mayonnaise by the time I have to give the speech. But we'll have some delicious sandwiches.

So you can know the joy of homemade mayonnaise too, here you go:

1 large egg yolk, at room temperature 30 minutes
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon mustard
3/4 cup vegetable oil
1-2 teaspoons fresh lemon juice
salt and freshly ground pepper

Whisk together yolk, mustard, and 1/4 teaspoon salt until combined well. Add about 1/4 cup oil drop by drop, whisking constantly until mixture begins to thicken. Whisk in lemon juice, then add remaining 1/2 cup oil in a very slow, thin stream, whisking constantly until well blended. If at any time it appears that oil is not being incorporated, stop adding oil and whisk mixture vigorously until smooth, then continue adding oil. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Chill, surface covered with plastic wrap, until ready to use.

Cooks' notes:

• The egg yolk in this recipe is not cooked, which may be of concern if salmonella is a problem in your area.

Feeling a Little Lupie

2011-08-25T14:43:00.000-04:00

After six months in Charlotte, LA and I still claim to be newcomers. We are still figuring out where the locals go and where we can go that won’t break the bank. I planned to meet my friend, Shelby, for lunch and asked where we should meet. She asked me if I knew where Lupie’s Café is. Sure, I do, but I assumed it was a biker bar. LA thought it must be Mexican food. Shelby said we should meet there.

As we walked in to Lupie’s Café, I was struck by the décor: wooden booths, bare wood ceiling and walls, a surf shack vibe to the place. What’s that music they’re playing? Depending on who’s in charge of the music, it may be Johnny Cash, James Brown, or Jefferson Airplane. I’ve heard just about everything there. I actually finally asked and was told that there’s a house iPod, but the staff can also plug in their iPod and share their taste in music with the masses.

Minus the pink Port-o-let

Shelby and I met on a Thursday, which meant the daily special was chicken ‘n’ dumplings. Do I have to mention how much I love chicken ‘n’ dumplings? I didn’t think so. I was not disappointed. Meaty chunks of chicken, swimming in thick gravy, studded with dumplings that were dense but not at all doughy. The green beans were and long-simmered and well-seasoned (although a little saltier than I should be eating them). I know that the popular belief is that green beans should be cooked just until “crisp-tender”. I don’t subscribe to that popular belief. I love long-cooked green beans. They’re soft and juicy, with the same green color as the Pinto my mom drove when I was 7. Lupie’s mac ‘n’ cheese is creamy (rather than custardy, which I’m not crazy about) and yummy, but it has a thick layer of dark brown cheese on top. I’m not usually one to complain about baked cheese, but it never seems to work for me on Lupie’s mac ‘n’ cheese. I eat the mac and leave the cheese.

I’ve since taken LA and have gone back on a number of occasions. LA declared their burger to be the best he’s ever had. It is a good burger, but not the best I’ve ever had. Maybe it’s because I forgot to tell them that I didn’t want ketchup on it. LA’s personal favorite is the Big Dog with Cincinnati chili and cole slaw. The Cincinnati is a little sweet, but full of flavor and not hot. It’s a good match for the hot dog.

Lupie’s Café has the same menu all day, with specials for each day of the week. Thursday is my obvious favorite. Monday has meatloaf, which I had once and wasn’t overly impressed with. Monday is also the only day of the week on which mashed potatoes are available. The gravy is a white cream gravy with a mushroom flavor to it. The first time I had it, the waiter warned me about the mushroom gravy. I was expecting loads of mushrooms for me to pick out, but I was mistaken. Skip the meatloaf and order the 3- or 4-vegetable plate if you really want the potatoes. Two quiches are available every day of the week; typically one with a meat (often crab or turkey sausage) and the other vegetarian. The quiches come with salad and a side of fruit. The quiches are tall and light, with a higher filling per egg ratio than you normally see.

The downstairs bar area

During the day, Lupie’s Café attracts a business crowd, but the dinner crowd is younger and more “liberal”. Lupie works the cash register and is a delight. She’s very friendly and will treat you like a regular in no time. LA’s #1 reason for returning to Lupie’s Café is Jason, his favorite waiter. I like Jason too, but I find the majority of the waitstaff to be friendly, efficient, and very knowledgeable. You can tell they like their jobs. How often can you really say that about your server?

I think it goes without saying that Lupie’s Café is one of our “places”. We’re recognized when we go there, and you know how much LA and I love that. Go to Lupie’s Café. Unless you’re Grant Luckey, you’ll want to become a regular too.

Note: Three notes, actually. 1) Grant Luckey likes “going new places and trying new things”, but he refused to go to Lupie’s with us because he looked at the menu and decided that “they don’t have new things.” 2) On our last visit to Lupie’s, we were forced to sit by ourselves in the lower level to make room for Time Out Youth, a local organization that helps gay teens and young adults handle issues that result from them coming out. Yay Lupie’s, for being gay friendly! 3) Also on our last visit, our server, Nannette, played matchmaker for LA by giving him the name and number of a single friend of hers.

Lupie's Cafe is located at 2718 Monroe Road in Charlotte (there's currently a pink Port-O-Let out front, so you can't miss it). A second location is at 101-A Old Statesville Rd in Huntersville.

I Can Only Spend What?? Part Deux

2011-08-23T13:06:00.001-04:00

Many moons ago, I was challenged to create a fake budget for myself, and I had to incorporate 90 balanced meals. I promised to post my menu when I was done, and I never got around to it. I’m sure you’re all used to that by now.

I want to pat myself on the back and say that I had $5 left over on my fake budget. I would probably use the $5 to buy something other than lentils. Believe it or not, you can buy a lot of food products at the dollar store, and a lot of them aren’t too bad. The country ham is great, and you can often find feta cheese. I don’t know if I’d want to eat this menu all the time, but I could still live happily on it.

In case you were wondering, my food bill for the month was $93.15, and that included tax. I remember when I could easily live on that for a month, but those days are long gone. I also want to mention that many of my classmates went the Lean Cuisine route. I made a personal pledge that I would neither do that nor live on sandwiches. I was successful on both counts!

Click on the above menu to see it larger

A Lucky Peach, Indeed

2011-08-17T17:59:00.000-04:00

What has two thumbs and is a total slacker? This guy! Yes, I know it's been far too long since I've regaled you with kitchen stories. And I realize you're still waiting to know how my fake budget turned out. Not to worry--that will be my next post. At this time, I have bigger and better things to tell you. What could be bigger and better than a fake poverty-level budget? I'M IN LOVE!

Who is it? The answer may be surprising, depending upon how well you know me. It's not so much of a who as a what. And that what is Lucky Peach. And what, pray tell, is Lucky Peach? It's a new quarterly magazine from NYC Chef David Chang and the people who bring you No Reservations with Anthony Bourdain. Do I really have to tell you that it is my new favorite magazine? I didn't think so.

My intrepid sidekick, LA, and I were perusing the magazine racks at our local Barnes & Noble, and I decided to look over the cooking section. I do so mostly out of habit, since I know what's waiting for me is typically a showcase of Food Network honeys (and Food Network magazine, if I want all the honeys in one place). I don't need to know how to make a "tablescape" for every crappy meal I've cooked up using all pre-made ingredients, and I never say "Yum-O", so those magazines aren't really for me. The only exception may be Paula Deen's. She is my dream mother-in-law. Besides, her magazine is full of photos of her eye candy son, Bobby. So maybe that magazine is one of the better ones. Bon Appetit is all available online (and full of out-of-my-real-and-fake-budget ingredients) and Saveur has never been one of my favorites. How many issues can they devote to pesto?

Then my eye caught a photo of a hand holding a plucked chicken. Right there in the front row! Who could possibly have the audacity to show food in its raw form? David Chang, apparently. Then I saw "Issue 1 - Ramen". Seriously? I flipped through the magazine, and I was instantly hooked. Of course, I was also not-so-instantly out of money, so the purchase of the magazine would have to wait until after payday.

Once the money was in the bank, we headed back to B&N. I had to have that magazine! I happily plunked down my $10 (+ tax), hoping that I would get my money's worth. And get it, I did. This may be the best magazine in print.

The first issue is, in fact, devoted to ramen. But not in the way you might think. The first article is a travel diary, tracing a trip through Japan in search of great ramen. Ruth Reichl (editor of the now sadly defunct Gourmet magazine) reviews assorted store brands of ramen. David Chang gives us some great recipes using dried ramen noodles, including Instant Ramen Gnocchi Parisienne and Instant Ramen Cacio e Pepe. While Chef Chang apologizes for writing an "obvious" recipe like Ramen-Crusted Skate, I would still happily try making it.

Despite great articles on the origins of ramen and a biography of David Chang written by Anthony Bourdain, my personal favorite items in the first issue of Lucky Peach are two haiku. One is a recipe for Corn with Miso Butter and Bacon, written by the editor. Yes, a recipe written in haiku form. The best haiku, however, comes courtesy of Oscar, who is (presumably) David Chang's dog. And who wears a do-rag. "If I had some eggs / I could have some eggs 'n' toast / If I had some toast." A dog who writes haiku. Awesome!

My favorite article from the magazine. How is this not me and my friends?

Do I need to say again how much I love Lucky Peach? While the $10 cover price may be a bit steep, the magazine is all articles, unlike many other food magazines which are stuffed with advertisements for rubber floor mats and vacations in Sedona. The good news is that a subscription is only $28. Okay, it's still higher than your average magazine, but I'm ready to support someone who knows how to cook and cares about food and not just "tablescapes". It always comes back to the tablescape.

Seriously--go buy this magazine! Keep in print so I have something interesting to read between classes.

For a subscription to Lucky Peach, click here.

I Can Only Spend What??

2011-07-02T14:05:00.000-04:00

As many of you know, I have once again become a college student. Third time's the charm! I'm in classes full-time for the next two years, and my current term began in May. I'm in one online psychology class, which is just plain weird. But I'm also taking a sociology class in an honest-to-goodness classroom. I love this class! Most of the other students don't, but that's their problem. How is this relevant, you may ask? Well, I'll tell you how it's relevant. Our last assignment is one for which we have to create a budget. Sounds easy, right? Not exactly. We're allotted a monthly income of $674, with $17 in food stamps.

With our $674, we have to pay rent and utilities, plus buy a bus pass and $9 worth of medication each month. (I wish my medication bill were so low!) We also have to do laundry, buy toilet paper, and eat 90 balanced meals. We also must buy one "other" item. I'm taking Orson with me to my crappy imaginary apartment, so my "other" item is dog food. One guy in the class asked if he could buy weed with his. I suppose we all have our priorities. I haven't finished my budget to find out how much I'm allowed to spend on food, but I know it can't be much. The instructor stipulated that we have to eat balanced meals to ensure that most of the 19-year old guys in my class (including the pot-smoker mentioned above) don't just live on ramen. I think I may have a slight advantage.

Yesterday LA and I scoped out the local Dollar Tree. I love me some Dollar Tree. I know what will become my primary grocery source on my imaginary budget. I found eggs, flour, country ham, frozen vegetables, crackers, baguettes, and popsicles, all for $1 each! Yesterday I bought mustard, pickles, tater tots, and John Wayne toilet paper. I'm sure you are all familiar with John Wayne toilet paper. It's rough, it's tough, and it doesn't take shit off anyone! But it's four rolls for $1, so it went in the basket.

After the Dollar Tree, we headed over to the farmer's market. I promised to make LA fried green tomatoes for the 4th. I picked up two green tomatoes, a head of romaine lettuce, and an onion for $3.14. I would've liked to also pick up the number of the guy who rang it all up, but that wasn't happening. The farmer's market will be involved in the produce aspect of my fake menu/budget.

So far, my menu is sounding pretty tasty. Roast chicken with mashed sweet potatoes and peas. Roasted garlic and potato soup with chicken salad on a baguette. Lentil salad with tomatoes and hard-boiled egg. Country ham, potato, and green pea Spanish tortilla with a Caesar salad. Who knew that being on a budget could taste so good?

Once I figure out the actual budget, a few things may change, but I have a feeling I'll still be eating better than most of the class. Maybe I should tell the instructor that I have a slight advantage and not to judge me too harshly for my menu. I can just imagine him asking how I managed to eat so well on so little money. I may have to incorporate this menu into my current budget! It sounds better than how I'm eating now.

Once I finish the entire menu and budget, I plan on posting it for all to see. Wish me luck and keep your fingers crossed that I get an A!

Carla Anne's Cookies are Now Nationally Known

2011-06-11T14:00:00.000-04:00

I want to give a shout out to Carla Whaley (and Mark) of Carla Anne's Homestyle Cookies! I was flipping through the June 2011 issue of Food Network Magazine, and I saw her BBQ cookies. I have to admit that I haven't had the BBQ cookies (although now I have to), but I have had her blueberry muffins and sourdough bread. Both are highly recommended. Her best item in my book is her Cheerwine truffle, a delicious bite of Cheerwine, wrapped in a chocolate coating. (For those readers not from these parts, Cheerwine is a regionally-produced cherry-flavored soda.)

The aforementioned cookies are available on Carla's website for $12 for 24 cookies. Get them while you can!

On an Evening in Charlotte

2011-05-26T12:24:00.001-04:00

Like most people, LA and I are creatures of habit. We go to the Liberty East, we go to Las Margaritas. Occasionally we venture out to a new place. In this case, we ventured out to FedEx Office (which I usually still refer to as "Kinko's"). Our trip to FedEx Office paid off in unexpected ways.

LA needed to print out some documents on a day on which the library was closed. The next best place to print something? FedEx Office. We went there on a Tuesday around lunchtime. By the time the documents were printed, we were starving. We could go to Chipotle. Who doesn't love Chipotle? I used to eat there when there was only one in the whole country. (Speaking of, you still owe me $5 for that bet, Scott.) Mexican was a little tired for us, since we'd recently been to the aforementioned Las Margaritas. Our other options were bagels or pizza. LA chose pizza, and I readily agreed.

When we walked into MezzaNotte, I was expecting a regular corner pizza joint. Red-checked tablecloths, a counter at which we'd place our order, even some parmesan shakers sitting on the table. Boy, was I wrong! MezzaNotte is a very cozy and upscale place, with white cotton tablecloths, dark wood panelling, and a wood-fired pizza oven behind the bar. On a side note, who puts the pizza oven behind the bar? I consider it to be a small question and not one that detracts from the overall atmosphere of MezzaNotte.

The sign outside MezzaNotte states that their Lunch Express Menu is $9.95. For lunch? I'm used to the Dollar Menu. But we hoped we'd get our money's worth. The Lunch Express includes a soup or salad, a slice of pizza, and an entree, as well as iced tea. Ok, maybe the price isn't as bad as we initially thought.

Based on the recommendation of our server, Iesha, LA ordered the tomato goat cheese soup, a slice of cheese pizza, and the Rigatoni Buttera. I asked what was involved in the MezzaNotte salad. Iesha wasn't sure, but she knew it had iceberg, onions, and blue cheese dressing. I'll have that, but hold the onions! I also ordered a slice of margherita pizza, as well as the Rigatoni Buttera.

LA's soup was delicious. Excellent recommendation! Very tomatoey and acidic, but with the tang and creaminess of goat cheese. The MezzaNotte salad is, in reality, a mix of iceberg and romaine lettuces, with cherry tomatoes, red onion, artichoke hearts, diced ham, and black olives, in the housemade blue cheese dressing. My salad arrived with a small slice of easily-removed red onion. The pantry cook was a little heavy-handed with the salad dressing, but I didn't mind. Their dressing is reminiscent of Caesar dressing, but with the addition of blue cheese. They should bottle and sell it!

Next arrived the pizza. The "slice" is actually half of a small pizza. LA had the standard American cheese pizza. It was good, but tasted like every other slice of cheese pizza that I've ever had. The margherita pizza was covered in a tangy tomato sauce, with gooey fresh mozzarella and spicy basil. LA thought mine was too spicy, but I thought it was perfect. The wood-fired oven gives the crust a crispy chew, which can make it difficult to cut through, and the slices are to big to eat by hand. I'm not typically a crust person, but I ate all of mine.

We both then got a small plate of rigatoni in a tomato cream sauce, with peas and Italian sausage. I found the rigatoni to be a bit too al dente, and neither of us were particularly crazy about the dish. The peas were too much of a contrast with the sausage and sauce, and the dish had no real counterpoint that provided any balance.

On our next visit, I stuck with the standard Express Lunch menu. This time I had the house salad. You'd think it would be the same as the MezzaNotte salad, but you (and I and Iesha) would be mistaken. The house salad is a mix of lettuces, with tomatoes, cucumber, and carrots. Again, it was dressed heavy-handedly.

I ordered the diavola pizza after asking Iesha what was on it. She wasn't sure, but she thought that it had red peppers and knew it had banana peppers. Never one to make things easy on a server, I requested that they hold the banana peppers. The diavola pizza has a spicy tomato sauce that's covered with Italian sausage, salami, and mozzarella. I saw nary a red pepper. All the same, it was fantastic. I liked it even better than I had the margherita pizza.

Filet of branzino caught my eye, and I asked Iesha what came with it. "Nothing. You get so much with everything else that it doesn't come with anything." I ordered it anyway. A good size filet of the branzino, which is a white fish, arrived, with a side of roasted potatoes and tomatoes. The fish had been floured and pan-fried to perfection, neither undercooked nor dry. LA had a bit and declared it "too plain", but a squeeze of the accompanying lemon was all the seasoning I needed for it.
LA ordered the Ariana salad, which typically comes with salmon, but asked to have the steak from the Bistecca salad substituted for the salmon. No problem. When his salad arrived, it was the Bistecca salad. Back it went to the kitchen. Why had he been so adamant about the Ariana salad? Because it's a spinach salad with caramelized walnuts, cherry tomatoes, bacon, and goat cheese. The steak was a bit salty and had even been finished with sea salt, but it was cooked to medium rare, just as LA had ordered it. He thought the salad was only dressed with oil, but I think there was a vinaigrette hiding somewhere in there. I would order that in the future, only without the sea salt finish.

The best thing about MezzaNotte? A basket of bread is brought to the table, accompanied by white beans. The white beans are tossed with some diced tomato, red onion, basil, red pepper flakes, and olive oil. I'm starting to drool just thinking about it. Who needs butter?

The service at MezzaNotte has been excellent on both visits. Iesha was our server on both occasions. My personal opinion is that she should be a bit more knowledgeable about their menu items, but she makes up for it by taking good care of her tables. LA and I both had mistakes on our special orders, but they were quickly and pleasantly corrected. The ambience is fantastic as well. It's comfortable and cozy, but not overly casual. While there is a patio, it's been too hot for us to sit out there. Maybe some evening we'll stop in for one of their Happy Hour pizza specials and sit on the patio, watching traffic go by. Without question, we plan on becoming regulars.

MezzaNotte is located at 2907 Providence Road, in the Providence Plaza, at the corner of Providence and Sharon Amity.

P.S. Props to anyone who got the Dean Martin reference from the title of this post.

I'll Give You Something to Cry About!

2011-04-25T17:51:00.000-04:00

With the knowledge that I wouldn't be able to drive for one to two weeks after my surgery (which went quite smoothly), I've been cooking large batches of things and then freezing them. Our freezer is full of "war rations"--little foil bricks of assorted deliciousness. We've got creamed tacos, meatloaf, lasagna, chili, and beef stew hiding out in the freezer. But it all seemed a little beef heavy. I wanted something that would be lighter. Of course, I still had to make a huge portion of it.

Last week I bought a turkey breast. The whole thing. It even came with a gravy packet! I started throwing more items into my grocery cart, thinking of all the wonderful things I could have with my turkey. Then the lightbulb came on. I could make a turkey roulade!

I can't be bothered to follow someone else's recipe or write down my own, so I thought about what would taste good and then went with it. The stuffing started with half a loaf of Everything bread from Walmart. That bread is ridiculously good. I cut it into large cubes and baked them in the oven at 350 degrees F until they were croutons. I minced half an onion and several stalks of celery and cooked those with about two cloves of garlic. I tossed those into a bowl with the croutons, then sprinkled in ground sage, dried thyme, and black pepper, moistening it with 1 1/2 cups of sodium-free chicken broth. At this point, I realized it was bland. I stared at the open pantry for minutes, hoping something would catch my attention. Green chiles! Really, it was a toss-up between green chiles and chickpeas. I mixed in a teaspoon of diced green chiles and what seemed like way too much cumin. The stuffing still didn't taste how I wanted it to, but I said "to hell with it" and moved on.

I removed the breasts from the bone, then threw the bone in a pot with cold water, the remaining half onion, some peppercorns, parsley, and more celery. It's still cooking. I butterflied the breasts, cutting a slit in them and opening them like a book. I pulled out my trusty rolling pin and started whacking the heck out of the poor, defenseless breasts. The rolling pin also came in handy to chase away nosy little dogs. That was the moment that LA showed up in the kitchen, looking at me like I'd gone completely mad. "What are you doing??" "Flattening the turkey." I thought it was obvious. I put the stuffing at one end of each breast and rolled them up. LA ate the remaining uncooked stuffing out of the bowl. I placed the breasts on a greased baking pan. Then I did something amazing.

I grabbed the low-sodium bacon out of the fridge and laid slices on the turkey, tucking them in so they didn't curl up during cooking. Bacon-wrapped stuffed turkey breast! LA was in awe. Into a 350 degree F oven they went. I have a thermometer with an alarm that tells me when my food is done, so I stuck that in so I wouldn't have to watch the turkey. I had more important things to worry about, like whether or not LA and I had gotten prison mail (he did, I didn't).

After about an hour, the house smelled like bacony goodness, and the turkey was done. I removed the breasts to a platter and scraped all of the drippings into my saucepan. Following the directions on the accompanying gravy packet, I added 1 cup of water and 1 cup of homemade turkey stock and brought it to a boil. I cut open the gravy packet and carried it over to the pan when the inevitable happened. It slipped out of my hand. I grabbed the now half-full packet from the floor and quickly dumped it in the pan. I was covered in gravy, my apron was covered in gravy, the stove was covered in gravy, and, most especially, the floor was covered in gravy. The dogs thought they'd died and gone to gravy heaven. LA tried to get them out of the kitchen, but I considered them to be the cleanup crew. They did a fantastic job.

I returned to the gravy, to which I added more green chiles, cumin, and black pepper. Time to eat! The turkey sliced effortlessly and had a beautiful stuffing center. I ladled some gravy over three slices and handed it to LA, before preparing some for myself. Before cutting in to my own, I asked LA how it was. He told me he was too busy "eating delicious" to talk. He was right. I thought I would cry. The bacon was crisp, the turkey was tender and moist, and the stuffing was spicy and had absorbed additional juice from the turkey. All I could say was, "I think I'm going to cry." I thought about poor Kayla, having to eat dry, bland old turkey while I was eating stuffed yumminess. I guess next Easter, she'll just have to spend it with us.

Also, kudos to me for doing most of this one-handed. I single-handedly made a turkey dinner! Well, I thought it was funny anyway.

It's Good to Be Regular

2011-04-03T19:39:00.001-04:00

Ha! Fooled you! You thought this would be a diatribe on the wonders of bran, but you were mistaken. I'm talking about being a regular at a neighborhood dining spot. And no, chain restaurants and fast food joints do not count. I mean real, neighborhood restaurants, with real servers and food that hasn't come straight out of a box.

When LA first moved in with me way back in November of '09, we made it our goal to become regulars at the North 29 Grill in Kannapolis. We went every Saturday; eventually Miss Tammy and the gang learned our names. Then they learned that we lived two houses away. They also learned some personal information about us, which I will not go into further at this time.

For us, becoming a regular somewhere gave us a sense of home and community. Neither of us has any family in the state (unless we count each other), and we were both tired of feeling anonymous in the community. We solved that problem with our weekly outings to "the Grill".

We've since said our good-byes to the fine folks at the North 29 Grill, as we embarked upon new adventures in the Queen City. But being in the big city left us with a bit of dilemma: which place should become the new "our place"? We had Carolina Kebap, which is run by friendly people who serve fantastic Turkish food. If you go there and the roast chicken is available, get it! Las Margaritas is good, but it didn't quite fit the bill. On one of our early outings to see what was in our area, we stumbled onto Liberty East Restaurant, Open 24 Hours.

We took our chances on Liberty East late one night. The parking lot was practically empty. The unfriendliest host in the restaurant seated us. We then had the pleasure of meeting our waitress. She was an older woman with short hair and a smoker's voice. Here's our actual exchange:

Me: "We've never been here before. What's good on the menu?"
Peggy: "everything"
Me: "And what's your name?"
Peggy: "peggy"

Peggy doesn't speak with capital letters. Or inflection. Or even a glimmer of life in her eyes. Other servers have confirmed that Peggy is always like that. Other servers are also friendly and helpful, but there's something about Peggy's soulless service that makes her our favorite.

The Liberty East is a diner, whether their name says so or not. Wood spindles between booths, wood-patterned melamine on the walls, and wagon wheel light fixtures. They also have a refrigerated pie case that they use (much to my consternation) to store boxes of cereal. At the front, near the cash register, is a non-working cigarette machine--the old school kind where you pulled the lever and your box of cigarettes fell down. Ah, the good ol' days. The menu also hasn't been updated in a generation. Not only can I get livermush with breakfast, but I can get liver and onions for dinner. With that being said, the food is certainly worth the trip.

Liberty East has three daily specials that may or may not come with soup (depending on whether Peggy is your server), three vegetables sides, and your choice of banana or chocolate puddin' (again depending on whether Peggy is your server). All this for usually under $7, depending on the main item you pick. LA had beef tips over rice, which he thought was really good, although the gravy had a weird taste to it that I attributed to allspice. I had the pot roast. Tender, with chunks of carrot and fingerling potato, but again with the allspice. Another server said the hot open-faced turkey sandwich is made with deli turkey, so she didn't recommend that. I did get the hot beef sandwich and got my money's worth. Two slices of white bread, with probably a half pound of roast beef, served with the brown allspiced gravy and a side of steak fries. The roast beef dinner is stacked even higher. In both cases, I was eating roast beef for more than one meal. My favorite menu item is the cheeseburger. Nothing special, but it is tasty. The burgers are served with unsalted steak fries, which is a bonus for me.

On the flip side, LA was disappointed in the gyro pita, as was I with the patty melt. And I love a patty melt. Neither were bad, just not as good as some of the other items we've had.

Liberty East is where we head late at night when we're hungry and don't feel like cooking. We've gone anywhere from 8pm on a Saturday night to 11pm on a weeknight and have been on of the few tables. The folks that are there are of every age, color, and "lifestyle". Saturday mornings are a different story. I took my friend Vince to the Liberty East when he was visiting from Orlando. The restaurant was packed, and we were the youngest people there by probably 30+ years. The breakfasts are good, and they are available all day. Watching the breakfasts cooks was also a fun pasttime, as I could watch the stack of eggs quickly shrink.

A few things to keep in mind AKA the bees in my bonnet: 1) The wait staff goes out the front door to smoke. 2) The bathrooms are clean and in good condition, but smell like mold and cleaner. I couldn't even stay in there long enough to use them--I just walked in, looked around, and walked back out. 3) The servers usually have friends and/or family there while they're working. Don't they have sidework? 4) I've seen three different men working the cash register, all at different times of the day, so I assume they are the owners and have shifts. They all have the same accent that I can't place, and they are all exceptionally unfriendly. One is less unfriendly than the others, but not by much. When they're not busy, they usually sit in the first booth nearest the register, which is intimidating for me when I'm seated near them. I heard one of them joke with a customer once, but it came out sounding more like a threat on their life. And they never act like they've seen us before.

We're still working on becoming regulars. Since LA and I are always together, we're a little easier to remember. Maybe it will sink in one day and we'll be welcomed with open arms. And, to answer your unasked question, no, there's no Liberty West Restaurant. We asked.

Liberty East Restaurant is located at 5112 E. Independence Blvd. It's between Sharon Amity Rd and Idlewild, next to Casual Male XL and Enterprise Rent-A-Car.

UPDATE: We went back to the Liberty East for lunch on 4/9. The same cook and dishwasher have been there every single time we've gone, which makes me wonder if they are ever given any time off. The man at the cash register was younger and friendlier than the regular ones (and an admitted chocoholic). I had the roast beef dinner, this time ordering the black-eyed peas as one of my sides. Oh my word! Next time I go, I may just order those and nothing else. They had been cooked with onions, which I could taste, but they were so good. I didn't detect as much allspice or whatever it is in the brown gravy this time either. I practically liked the plate clean. LA had a "tossed salad", which was iceberg lettuce and one tomato wedge. Our waitress was quite pleasant and gave me regular refills of my soft drink. She just brought a pitcher of sweet tea for LA. We'd actually gone there because LA was craving banana puddin', then he didn't even order any! It's still our favorite place in Charlotte.

Back and Better Than Ever??

2011-03-22T22:46:00.000-04:00

Apparently, I am always going on hiatus. In this case, the causes were many: we moved, we lost internet access, and I had a computer virus. Luckily for all of you, at least two of the three issues were corrected (we're still working on internet connectivity to some degree). I'd like to thank the good folks at Carolinas Medical Center for allowing me use of their network in order to download the anti-virus software I needed.

So how's the low-sodium diet going? Well, I'm glad you asked! It's not going all that well. Salt is in everything. If I go to Olive Garden, I can have one (one!) breadstick OR half of a salad OR marinara dipping sauce. But no dipping sauce with the breadstick. I wasn't frequenting Olive Garden anyway, but now I have a real reason not to go there. I don't always have the wherewithal to cook at home, so most of the time I just take my chances when we eat out. Showmar's has some great salads, although I can't eat the taco bowl. I can have burgers and chicken tenders at Steak 'n' Shake, so that's our most common go-to. I did cheat and have Chipotle the other night, and it was worth a little "water weight gain". I have to do all of my cheating now. I've been told that, once I get my defibrillator implanted, the doctors will be able to tell how much sodium I'm eating. Eeeek!

In my quest to (sometimes) eat less sodium and stay on track, I found two guides to assist me. What to Eat When You're Eating Out was my first attempt at navigating the salted waters of the restaurant world. And those salted waters turned out to be scarier than I imagined. 900+ milligrams of sodium in a 6" tuna sub at Subway?? I'm allowed 600mg per meal. 1700+ milligrams in one of the angus burgers at McD's. Huh--death by angus burger. The most surprising thing for me was finding out that the majority of the sodium is in the bread/bun. I didn't get a strange look when I ordered the Filet O' Fish sans bun (and cheese).

What to Eat When You're Eating Out is not the type of book that you take with you. Unless you want to trade heart problems for back problems. I needed something a little more portable. Then I ran across Pocket Posh Complete Calorie Counter at a local bookstore. Not only does it provide a limited section on restaurant foods, but the majority of the book is dedicated to grocery store items. Yes, you can just look at the label on a package of Oreos, but you can also know what's in store for you before you ever leave home. The best part? There are two actually: it's small enough to fit into a purse or bag, and the cover has a cute design on it so no one will know you're carting around a nutrition guide. I carry mine in my purse. Then again, I could survive the apocalypse (or zombie attack) with everything in my purse.

The good news is that most restaurants have their nutrition information available online. Since I have internet access on my phone, I can look up the best items for me when I arrive at the restaurant. Or say to hell with it and get whatever I want. No more cheating after April 14th!

Life in the Low-Sodium Lane

2011-01-06T16:17:00.002-05:00

Four weeks ago, I began my new journey with cardiomyopathy (a weak heart) and congestive heart failure (CHF). This journey brought with it the need for a low-sodium diet. This was reasonably easy to accomplish in the hospital, as the catering group knew that I was on a special diet. Of course, that didn’t stop them from occasionally bringing me something not on my diet. Sometimes I sent it back, sometimes I didn’t. The three weeks spent eating hospital food prepared me for my return home. Basically, I came home with the knowledge that I could make food that tasted so much better than what I was served during my hospital stay. Tastier, and more interesting.

Along with the aforementioned burger, crustless quiche, and breakfast burrito, I also made a Southwest chicken lasagna from a recipe I’d printed out in 1998. The recipe came from a “healthy living” website, but only the fat and calorie content could be considered low. I didn’t calculate the sodium content, but I knew it couldn’t be good. I did my best to lower this by using all low-sodium products and adding more veggies than called for. I’m sure it still exceeded my limit of 600mg of sodium per meal. LA loved the lasagna and gave me the greatest compliment on it: This doesn’t taste healthy. Since we both enjoyed it so well, I plan on making it again, but there will be additional adjustments to make it healthier and lower in sodium. Once I have created a great version, I will be posting a recipe. Until then, you’ll just have to wait.

The home health care group sent out a cardiac nurse to check on me today. She asked if anyone had told me about the diet I was to follow. Only 6 different people, providing me with pages and pages of dietary information. All of which I read, partially out of boredom. So, to answer her question, yes, I am aware of the diet. I ordered two low-salt cookbooks, which arrived yesterday. LA and I both read the labels on everything at the grocery store (if you want to extend your grocery-shopping experience, take the time to read the labels of every item you buy. You’ll be there for hours!). I keep a food log in which I write down everything I eat and drink. Sadly, or maybe not, I actually kept a food log even before I went into the hospital. The nurse looked over my food log and challenged me on a couple of items. “Can you explain how chips and salsa are low sodium?” Yes, I can. The chips only had 30mg of sodium per serving. I may have gone over a serving, but that is beside the point. She did recommend that I start listing the amount of sodium that I am consuming with each item, to ensure that I am staying under 2000mg per day. After doing that for only half a day, I am convinced I’ve been going waaaay over my limit. A serving of Triscuits (135mg) is only 6 crackers. I did know that one, so I’d been pretty good about it. Some of the others were a little more challenging. The garlic melba crackers I love only have 130mg in them, but a serving is 4 crackers. Who only eats 4 crackers? 6 crackers is borderline ridiculous!

With the two new low-sodium cookbooks I got, I now have recipes for everything from low-sodium soy sauce to condensed cream of mushroom soup to fried chicken. I’m looking forward to trying those books to see how things turn out. Both were highly reviewed on Amazon, but I’ll save my reviews until I’ve cooked from both. Tonight’s dinner, sadly, won’t be coming from the new books, but is a recipe from Deborah Madison’s Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone. The dish is essentially only lentils, black pepper, and brown rice. She also calls for an onion carmelized in an unholy amount of oil, but I am omitting that for the sake of my already weakened heart. LA enjoys the dish with a bit of feta cheese in the onion’s place.

Low-sodium cooking is harder than it may seem, but also easier than I expected. The hardest part is getting used to the taste of normal foods without salt. If you don’t know what I mean, go to McDonald’s and order unsalted fries. LA said it best with, “They taste like potatoes!” The salt does allow the natural flavor of food to come through, and I’m sure the natural flavor is something few of us have tasted in quite some time. As I continue cooking and experimenting, I will be posting more recipes, including the Southwest chicken lasagna. Even salt-eaters are going to like these!

Happy New Year and All That

2011-01-01T17:23:00.000-05:00

Happy 2011!! I am happy to report that I was able to ring in the New Year in the comfort of my own home, having been discharged from the hospital on Tuesday. Now that I am no longer being served low-salt, low-taste food on a regular schedule, I am forced to cook my own. I can't go out to eat--there's too much salt in everything. I can't buy prepared foods--there's too much salt in everything. That leaves me to fend for myself.

Having watched (and smelled) LA eat some sad-looking burgers from the hospital cafeteria, I was craving a burger. I'm sure I could make a healthy version. And I did. 96% lean ground beef seasoned with black pepper and garlic powder, low-sodium sliced Colby-Jack cheese (thank you, Sargento), lettuce, tomato, and a whole-wheat roll. The burger was a bit overcooked and dry, and the roll was overtoasted. Even so, we both agreed it was the best burger ever. I guess context is everything. Had we not been burned out on hospital food, we may not have been so enamored of the burger. As it was our first post-hospital meal, we were thrilled by it. The meal was rounded out with a baked potato. I thought about making potato wedges, but just didn't have the energy. Baked potatoes would have to do. Fat-free sour cream, low-sodium shredded Cheddar (thank you again, Sargento!), and imitation bacon bits topped the spuds. Who knew low-sodium could taste so good?? On a side note, imitation bacon bits have lower sodium than real bacon bits, so I am allowed to have them. On another side note, Morningstar bacon (which we call "facon") tastes just like imitation bacon bits. Don't waste your money.

The next evening, we were having company and I was feeling a bit lazy. I cooked up some frozen "Southern-style" hashbrowns, chopped broccoli, and green peas. This I dumped into a small casserole dish and seasoned with black pepper, my stand-by garlic powder, and some chipotle powder. I mixed Eggbeaters with milk to create the custard, then poured it over the veggies, then topped it all with more of my low-sodium shredded cheddar. I baked it for 50 minutes at 375 degrees, and it came out puffed up and golden. I'll admit it was a tad spicy, but LA and I were thrilled with the outcome. He even went back for seconds! The leftovers were combined with more Eggbeaters and hashbrowns, then wrapped in a tortilla, and we had breakfast burritos the following morning.

I won't lie and say that this whole low-sodium thing is easy, but it's turning out not to be as difficult as I thought. I can't buy a lot of my old standards at the supermarket, and I'm having to cook a lot more than I was before, since we can't just pop out and grab something. But it's totally worth it, to keep me alive and keep LA healthy. More to come on the low-sodium lifestyle!

Merry Christmas!

2010-12-25T20:43:00.000-05:00

LA and I weren't exactly anticipating spending Christmas in the hospital, but that's exactly where we were. We decided to make the best of it and share Christmas dinner. By coincidence, today's lunch menu included roast turkey with gravy. Happy Day!

We have two women who work for Nutrition and bring our meals each day, Wanda and Tanisha. They are two of the nicest women, and I look forward to their arrival each day. And not just because they bring the food. Wanda was lucky enough to have the day off today, so Tanisha was bringing our meals. As she was picking up the breakfast trays, I asked if we could possibly have a tray of turkey if she had any spares at lunch. She said that she definitely would, so LA and I would both be able to have turkey dinner.

I am on the low-sodium, low-fat, low-cholesterol diet, and the meal LA received had no restrictions. My Christmas dinner consisted of three slices of roast turkey breast with gravy, mashed potatoes, and green beans. LA had the same turkey and green beans, but he had cornbread stuffing instead of the potatoes. He was also kind enough to give me a little of the stuffing. While it was salted, I only had a few bites and it really completed the meal. Last year, LA and I had gone to Emma's in Concord for Thanksgiving. We both agreed that today's meal was equally as good as that we had at Emma's. And it was hospital food! I am getting used to the blandness of my food, but I did put some "butter" on the potatoes for a little extra oomph. Close inspection also revealed that the gravy is simply broth mixed with cornstarch. It was still gravy-like enough to make a decent meal. LA's cornbread stuffing was actually very good. I wished they had accidentally given it to me! Cranberry sauce was included on the side, but neither of us tried it. I did look at it, and it didn't look canned.

For dessert, we had red jello with mandarin oranges and whipped cream. I ate a couple of the oranges, but the jello wasn't made right and was quite stiff. LA doesn't eat jello at all. Being Christmas, we also got a special treat. I had pumpkin mousse with whipped cream, and LA had a mini pumpkin pie. Apparently the pie crust wasn't low-fat, so I didn't get it. The mousse was very good, but I was getting full by that point and was unable to finish it.

While we had hardly anticipated spending Christmas in the hospital, we were at least able to spend it together. The food was respectable, and we were surrounded by friendly and caring people. This definitely qualifies as a good Christmas, and we even get a funny story out of it.

Where's Lula?

2010-12-21T10:26:00.000-05:00

I know it's been ages since I last posted. As I said before, sometimes life just gets in the way. In my case, it happened in a big way. Spending the month of November with an unspecified illness, I, and my intrepid sidekick, was unable to visit any restaurants, markets, or points of interest. Early in December, I visited the doctor and learned that my unspecified illness was actually congestive heart failure, and I've been in the hospital ever since. I suppose I could write reviews on the food that I've been eating for the past two weeks, but that may be a little boring and redundant: Today's meal was ok, but a little bland.

Once I am released from the hospital, I will be on my own to follow my new low-fat, low-salt, low-iron diet. I will be taking you on those adventures, including things I make and how restaurants respond to my dietary restrictions. It will be a much different direction for me, but I'm sure it will still be interesting.

Lemon Lameness

2010-11-02T17:55:00.001-04:00

I apologize for the long hiatus. Sometimes life just gets in the way. With the new puppies and finding out that my house (that I'm renting) is being foreclosed, I've had a few other things on my plate. With the impending foreclosure and sale of my house, I know that a move will soon be in the works. I hate moving. I really don't think anyone out there doesn't hate moving. When I think about moving, I start thinking about all the stuff I have that I'll have to pack. At that point, I have to stop thinking about it before it makes me dizzy.

I have a 3-bedroom house, and it's really just storage for all of the things I've collected over the years. We all do it. I'm tired of having to get a bigger house each time I move, just to accommodate all of my stuff. And I'm not alone. LA has moved 4 times in the last two years, and two of those were moving in with me. He also had a house full of stuff, but lost much of it when the house he was renting was foreclosed. Sounds like an epidemic! Each time he moved in with me, he brought enough with him to fill my shed. He didn't even bother furnishing his last place, so the same stuff has been in my shed twice.

But enough is enough! Neither one of us were eagerly anticipating having to rent a semi just to move everything into a new place. And neither of us wanted 3 bedrooms to have to furnish. What's a person to do? That's right--start getting rid of everything. I'm not kidding when I say we're getting rid of everything. We had one yard sale, but didn't get rid of too much. We'll just keep having them until we get rid of it all.

With that being said, I am getting rid of a lot of cookbooks and kitchen items. I've got an ice cream maker that I've only used a few times. Small tools and gadgets that people have given me and that I will never use. I've even got the dining table priced to sell. If anyone is interested in one of our yard sales, leave a comment with your email address and I'll email you our home address. If you have any interest in food, I'm sure there will be something at the sale to interest you. We even have food-related art, painted by LA. There's something for everyone!

Orson's Opinions

2010-10-06T22:49:00.000-04:00

Note: Due to my hectic schedule filled with puppy-wrangling and trips to Walmart, today’s post will be written by a guest writer.

My name is Orson Bouvier, and I, along with my sister, Cupcake Bouvier Ramirez Jones, live with Lula Lemon and LA. Lula has asked me to provide some insight and observations on food items that I’ve had since moving in with her and LA. I’m not as eloquent as Lula, so please forgive my writing.

When we met Lula and LA, they presented us with cheddar cheese. Heaven! Neither I nor Cupcake had ever had cheese before. We would do whatever Lula and LA asked just to get more cheese, including sleeping in two cramped, over-the-top pink crates. Since then, we’ve also had American cheese. Lula uses it sometimes to get me to go for a walk or sit down and shake hands. It works.

Bananas were the next treat given. Not as good as cheese, but we still like it. Now that we’ve grown a bit, we get Alpo dog treats when we learn tricks. They’re hard, but tasty. When I’ve walked really well on my leash, I get Ol’ Roy’s Tiny T’s treats, which are like smoky little T-bones. I eat mine really fast and then steal Cupcake’s, because she always drops hers.

The author

Before we moved in, Lula baked treats for us. The bone-shaped chicken ones are really good. The people-shaped peanut butter ones are too, but they give me diarrhea. Lula wasn’t too happy with that.

Some of my favorite things to eat don’t come from Lula’s kitchen. I discovered grass and leaves since moving to Lula’s house. They’re so good, but they don’t really agree with my tummy. They agree with Cupcake’s even less. LA wasn’t very happy with Cupcake the night she ate all the grass and leaves. Or maybe it was the berries that were on the ground next to the “croutons”. LA calls them croutons, but Lula calls them rabbit droppings. Either way, they’re crunchy and I like that. Dead bugs are good too, but I don’t find those too often. Kleenex, wax paper, and cigarette filters are pretty high on my list, but Lula always takes those out of my mouth before I can really enjoy them. One of the best treats was when LA dropped a Bit O’ Honey on the floor. I ate the candy, wrapper and all. Cupcake tried to take it away from me, but I won. Until Lula took it away from me and yelled at LA for leaving it on the floor.

I also like to eat shoes, but LA hit me in the face with one today, so I don’t do that anymore. He said it was an accident, but I don’t think so. That’s okay. I’ll just poop in his room later. Or goad Cupcake into eating some more of those berries!

Shepherd or Cottage

2010-10-04T19:00:00.000-04:00

I’ve had some ground beef sitting in my freezer for some time now, just waiting for divine inspiration to strike me in the forehead. And strike me it did! LA and I had been discussing the relative merits of shepherd’s pie and both realized that we haven’t had any in quite some time. Time for shepherd’s pie!

Now, technically, shepherd’s pie is made with ground lamb. If the pie is made with ground beef, it becomes cottage pie. I’ve seen some very nasty comments on assorted websites from incensed Brits upset with our use of “shepherd’s pie” when we should be referring to it as “cottage pie”. Well, Limey, this is America and we can call it whatever we want. The French have resolved the problem completely by calling it hachis Parmentier, which loosely translates as “chopped meat with potatoes on top”.

I called it shepherd’s pie, and I also called it delicious. I’d love to give you the recipe I followed, but, as usual, I just threw stuff in a pan until it tasted right. Basically I softened an onion in butter and olive oil, then browned the ground beef in the same pan. When that was browned, I tossed in some minced garlic and fresh thyme. I then added beef broth, a few squirts of tomato paste (from my tomato paste toothpaste tube), some mustard powder, and salt and pepper. Since it was still a bit flat, I finished it with a bit of sherry. Just for flavor. I mashed some potatoes with a lot of butter and milk, then elegantly piped the potatoes onto the top of the meat mixture. A sprinkle of shredded Parmesan cheese and the pie was ready for the oven. Once the top was browned and golden, we were ready to eat.

In true British fashion, I served the shepherd’s pie with peas. At least, that’s how I had it in London. I thought it was very good, but not exactly how I wanted it. LA loved it, hot or cold. I actually thought it improved with a rest in the fridge overnight and enjoyed it reheated in the oven the next day. Now that I’m reminded of how good shepherd’s pie can be, I may have to make it more often than once every 3 years.

Logan's with Lula

2010-09-27T17:51:00.001-04:00

While shopping at our nearby Walmart, LA and I decided we were a bit hungry. I wanted spinach artichoke dip, and he wanted a burger. Where to go? We ended up at Logan's Roadhouse, a chain with a store in the Walmart shopping center.

We had been craving the Bloomin' Onion from Outback for some time now and thought that a steakhouse might actually have it. We were correct. Logan's offers Onion Petals. We were very tempted but went with the spinach artichoke dip. You may have read my previous post about the lackluster spinach artichoke dip that we had at Zada Jane's. Logan's dip was the opposite. It reminded me a bit of creamed spinach with artichokes in it. I was highly impressed and ate most of it myself. Possibly some of the best I've ever had. I'll be going back for that.

I ordered the Logan's Deluxe Burger and LA ordered the Logan's Deluxe Chicken Sandwich, both from the Express Lunch menu. Lunch in 15 minutes, it said. Deluxe at Logan's means shredded cheese, bacon, beer-braised onions, sauteed mushrooms, and barbecue sauce. We ordered both with no mushrooms or sauce. Then we waited. And waited. And waited.

After 30 minutes, the waitress brought our food. As soon as she set down the plates, I saw the barbecue sauce on them. I pointed this out, and she briskly took the plates back to the kitchen. After about 10 minutes, our food reappeared. I got a whole new burger and LA got the same piece of chicken but with the sauce scraped off. He found plenty of sauce on the underside of the chicken, and they'd even put it on the same saucy bun. LA took a bite and made a terrible face. Yes, he could still taste the barbecue sauce. I told him I could get it for free since he wasn't going to it, but he refused. He'd pay for it since someone had cooked it, even though they'd cooked it incorrectly.

I continued eating my burger, while LA continued making faces. These faces must've caught the attention of the manager, since he came over and asked how everything was. LA and I looked at each other, then I explained what had happened with our order. He offered to get a new sandwich for LA, but LA refused, rationalizing the refusal by believing that the kitchen would spit in the new order. I've worked in a fair number of kitchens, and I haven't seen anyone spit in the food. But maybe I've only worked with people with integrity. The manager then offered to remove the item from the bill. Again LA refused. So I had to sit there and watch a back-and-forth between the two until LA finally relented. The manager even took the drinks off the tab. Lest you think that we're horrible people, we did leave the server a 30% tip. We knew it wasn't her fault.

If you dined out with me, you know that I do not tolerate poor service or incorrect food orders. I've gotten free drinks for having plastic floating in my martini, free desserts for a table for 4 because of terrible service, and a free chicken sandwich because the kitchen was cutting corners and thought we wouldn't notice. By the same token, I've given generous tips for good service, as well as notifying the managers of an exemplary dining experience. I've waited tables and I've cooked. I've seen it from both sides. I also know that I am paying for food and service, and I expect to get my money's worth. Even with the crazy experience at Logan's, LA and I both agreed that we would go back. Especially for the spinach artichoke dip.

A Cold Drink and a Long Wait

2010-09-15T13:50:00.001-04:00

Now that we’re proud dog owners, LA and I are on the lookout for things to do with the puppies. The Yiasou Greek Festival took place over the weekend, so it seemed the perfect opportunity to experience a different culture and get the puppies out of the house.

Once we arrived at the Greek festival, we were informed that we couldn’t enter with our dogs, even though they were safely nestled inside tote bags. “It’s because of the Health Department.” I wanted to say, “You let all of these children in here, and they’re messier than my dog-in-a-tote-bag,” but I accepted their apologies without making a scene. The woman did offer to get us something from inside the festival, if we wanted.

The Greek festival may not be pet-friendly, but NoDa is. We thought we’d head over, check out some of the shops and galleries and maybe even see our friend, John, who owns Dogmatic Training. Faithful readers know that LA and I never end up where we plan to go. We missed NoDa and ended up in Plaza-Midwood. To be fair, LA thinks Plaza-Midwood is NoDa, so it was all good. Most of the stores were closed, so we opted to get a drink and some rest at Zada Jane’s. Their patio is pet-friendly and we were all hot and in need of refreshment.

We were told to seat ourselves on the patio, which we did. And then we waited. After what seemed like 10 minutes, we were brought menus and our drink orders were taken. A few more people and dogs arrived, including a giant Rottweiler named Tyson. He was quite interested in Cupcake, LA’s pooch, who looked remarkably like a tiny version of Tyson. The puppies were as impressed by the service as we were and promptly fell asleep in our laps.

LA and Cupcake

Cupcake in 2 years?

We settled on spinach artichoke dip to share, although The Trio did sound tempting. The trio was a scoop each of tomato hummus, black bean dip, and pimento cheese, served with whole wheat pita. Tyson’s owner did order that and I was very jealous when I saw it. I actually thought they’d lost our order, since the dip took so long to arrive. In all fairness, Tyson’s owner’s Trio did as well, and the kitchen had only to scoop the items on the platter. Considering that Zada Jane’s wasn’t busy, we were surprised that the food took so long. When the spinach artichoke dip arrived, it did not make up for the long wait. The overall taste was fine, but the consistency was far too runny. Both of us agreed that the same dip at Chili’s is a much better option. We didn’t have the money to order anything else from Zada Jane’s. The dinner entrees ranged from $15 for mushroom ravioli (which I don’t eat) to $27 for filet mignon. The salads were a less expensive option. Tyson’s owner ordered one and it looked quite tasty.

While the overall service was lacking, one server did bring around bowls and a water pitcher to all of the dogs on the patio. The bowls were bigger than our puppies, so we passed, but I did appreciate it. While I would return to Zada Jane’s for some sweet tea while I’m out with my dog on a hot day, I wouldn’t go back on my own. I’ve found plenty of other establishments that offer a similarly priced menu but with much better service.

Zada Jane’s is located at 1601 Central Ave. in Charlotte.

Dog Days of Summer

2010-09-12T22:26:00.000-04:00

In anticipation of the addition of two new family members, I thought I should do a little baking. Give the new girls a Welcome Home treat. So I cracked open the cookbook and baked something I’ve never baked before. Dog treats.

I’d run across a recipe for dog treats a couple years back in a dessert cookbook I’d picked up, but I never had a reason to try it out. From reading it, I knew that dog treats involved ingredients that I have in my pantry and that they didn’t appear to be too difficult to make. When LA first got a dog, we got some treats from Deborah’s Kitchen Kreations. Minimal ingredients and no preservatives. Plus, Mr. Piddlesworth seemed to enjoy them.

Once I knew I would be getting my own dog, I started looking at the dog treats on the market. The inexpensive ones had an ingredient list as long as my arm. The treats with a short, and reasonably healthy, ingredient list were prohibitively expensive. That’s when I decided to make my own.

Dog treat canisters made by LA

I ran across a dog treat cookbook that received rave reviews on Amazon. It even came with its own bone-shaped cutter! I bought the book and got to work. The cutter that came with the book was as big as my puppy would be, so I picked up some smaller cutters elsewhere. I also thought it might be a good opportunity to make treats in different shapes and sizes. To keep things interesting for the puppies.

The first batch I made was made with flour, margarine, chicken broth, and cornmeal. I went with a bone shape for those. They smelled delicious in the oven and tasted like a salt-free chicken cracker. The next batch had peanut butter, oats, whole wheat flour, water, and vegetable oil and were in the shape of gingerbread men. The dough smelled like cookies. We couldn’t wait to try them. Halfway through cooking, they began to smell like burnt peanut butter, which really is not all that appetizing. I bit into one once they were done. I couldn’t taste the peanut butter. They just tasted like dry. LA didn’t understand that description until he tried one, too.

Once we picked up the puppies, we wanted to try out the freshly-baked treats. The chicken treats were far too big, so I gave my puppy, Orson, a peanut butter man. She licked it. Then she ignored it. She had the same reaction to Deb’s chicken kitty treats and some puppy brownies (made with cream cheese and carob) that I got from another vendor at the farmers’ market. Her favorite treats are cheddar cheese and bananas. My dog treat baking days were over. And they only lasted for one day.

Burning Down the Flea Market

2010-09-03T21:43:00.000-04:00

Today the Webb Road Flea Market in Salisbury burned down. I don't have any details, but it makes me very sad. Since moving to Kannapolis, I've been to the flea market several times. On my most recent trip, I very nearly bought a puppy (although I decided that paying my power bill might be a better idea). The Webb Road Flea Market was also where I had my first deep-fried Twinkie. I couldn't finish it, but it was better than I had imagined. The cream filling gets oozy and the cake becomes one with the batter on the outside, making it softer and creamy. Almost like pudding. LA had a deep-fried Snickers. He bit into it too soon after the deep-frying and burned his tongue on it. The woman had warned him it would be hot.

But those days are over. So are the days of buying a goat, some bananas, a butter churn, and underpants all in the same location. RIP, Webb Road Flea Market.

On the Road Again

2010-08-30T23:21:00.001-04:00

Chez Lula was closed on Wednesday. I had places to go. And go I did. The day was definitely not food-oriented, but some of the high points will still make for fine reading. I’ll include what we ate, just so I don’t lose you.

LA and I started the day with the saltiest breakfast burritos either of us have ever eaten. Thank you, Sonic! But we were off, headed towards the NC Zoological Park in Asheboro. Neither of us had ever been, and we’d both heard fantastic things about the zoo. I can sum up the zoo in three words: plants and butts. In the North America section, we saw pretty much nothing but animal butts. We did get to see otters being fed whole fish and hard-boiled eggs. Otters look like they have thumbs, but the zoo worker and LA both advised me that they do not. I still think they do. The Africa section involved many more animal fronts, as well as a carousel and some ostrich eggs. I guess it was ostrich day—I rode one on the carousel, took a photo of a real one, then I even hatched out of an egg.

Grumpy, tired, and with sore feet, we finally left the zoo. Interesting side note, you cannot get a straw at the zoo, because they are “dangerous to the animals”, but you can get a spoon. Go figure.

We headed back to Asheboro to hit up Biscuitville for LA. Sadly, they were closed by the time we arrived. We got some sweet tea and bad directions, then were off to High Point for the World’s Largest Chest of Drawers. We stopped at Kosta’s Family Restaurant in Archdale, which may not have been the best idea. I did like their macaroni salad, since it wasn’t as sweet as most varieties I’ve eaten. LA still thought it was too sweet. The braised chicken was bland, the barbecue was fine, and the gravy both gave us what Morgan Spurluck delightfully referred to as “the McGurgles”. The waitress seemed afraid of both of us, but we did overhear the best conversation of all time. The woman behind me informed her friends that “I’ve just had my third eye transplant. Well, really just my cornea.” She proceeded to tell them all about her corneas and the long list of ailments from which her husband suffered. As we left, LA asked the waitress how far we were from the World’s Largest Chest of Drawers. She was not familiar with it, but told him she did know about the World’s Largest Chair in Thomasville. Not helpful. (Besides, it’s the World’s Largest Duncan Phyfe Chair. I suppose that makes a difference.)

We did ultimately find and photograph the World’s Largest Chest of Drawers, although the directions we had were wrong and I nearly wrecked the car trying to turn around to get to it. Completely worth it. We continued north to Winston-Salem to our next destination—the Shell station shaped like a shell. After much map consultation, we found the Shell station. Completely worth driving around lost through a not so great neighborhood for five minutes’ worth of photos.

We spent another 45 minutes driving around in all directions before accidentally ending up in Old Salem. We had hoped we would, but we don’t have a stellar record of actually finding our true destinations. Old Salem and Salem College are both interesting and beautiful. I took way too many photos to post here, so I recommend going there post haste to check it out for yourself. If you’re reading this from somewhere other than NC, I’m sure there is an interesting historic site in your area.

By the end of all our shenanigans on the highways and biways of NC, we were…

That's Just Poppycock!

2010-08-28T15:49:00.001-04:00

Every once in awhile, I’ll come across a recipe that looks so delicious, I can’t wait to try it. In this case, I wanted to try it immediately, but dragged my feet a little because I knew it would be a little bit of a pain in the butt. I was right, but it was so worth it!

The September issue of Bon Appetit magazine contains a recipe from Colt & Gray restaurant in Denver. Why couldn’t Colt & Gray have opened when I still lived there? I would’ve been there every night for their bacon and cashew caramel corn. Alas, they were not, and I was left to make it myself.

Bacon and cashew caramel corn? I saw the recipe title and my heart skipped a beat. I read it to LA, and I think his may have skipped a beat, too. Everyone loves caramel corn and everyone loves bacon (except you silly vegetarians who are missing out on the “meat candy”), so how could we not love bacon caramel corn? As far as I’m concerned, the cashews are just filler. The bacon and caramel are the real stars.

I bought all of the necessary ingredients, a bit horrified at the thought of actually having to cook popcorn in a pan. I grew up in the era of microwave popcorn. Now that I don’t have a microwave, I have to go old school. I was justly pleased with myself when the popcorn came out unburned and fully popped. The patron saint of popcorn popping must have been watching over me.

I’ve made caramel enough that it doesn’t even phase me, but there’s still a small voice at the back of my head that says “It’s going to crystallize and you’re going to have a bit pot of rock candy.” Take that, little voice in my head—my caramel was perfect!

The hardest part was waiting for the popcorn to cool enough so it wouldn’t burn off my fingerprints. Once it cooled, I couldn’t tear myself away from it. It’s sweet, it’s salty, it’s spicy, it’s the best caramel corn ever. I would describe it as Cracker Jack for adults, but that would be selling the bacon caramel corn short. Even though it will take 3-4 pans, the task of making caramel, and having on the oven in the middle of summer, I still recommend making this popcorn. You’ll never eat Fiddle Faddle again.

For the recipe, click here.

Lunch in Paris

2010-08-27T12:18:00.001-04:00

Cooking for someone else is always more fun than cooking for just myself. Besides, when it’s just me, I always end up with a fridge full of leftovers that I don’t eat in time and forget to freeze. The worst part is having to clean out the fridge when I remember the leftovers. I’m still working on a budget, so many of our meals involve some element of leftovers in disguise. Such was the case of the leftover bechamel.

I love bechamel sauce, but I can never get it to come out right. Since it did so for the lasagna, I wanted to make sure I used every last drop of it. My favorite use for new or leftover bechamel? Croque monsieurs. A croque monsieur is basically a grilled ham and cheese sandwich, then topped with bechamel and cheese and broiled, so the top is bubbly and brown. My mouth waters just thinking about it.

I marched myself up to the supermarket to get ham and bread. Can’t really have a ham sandwich without those. Swiss cheese was on sale. Today would be my day! Sandwich fixings obtained, I headed home.

I woke my slumbering roommate by informing him that Chez Lula’s kitchen was open, but only has one seating per meal. If he wanted lunch, he’d better drag his rear out of bed. According to the whiteboard, lunch would be croque monsieurs and a green salad, but I had more leftover magic up my sleeve. I chopped up the leftover “driest potato ever” and fried it with salt and garlic.

Blearied-eyed and on the phone with the NC Employment Security Commission, LA came to the table. He was greeted by a bubbling sandwich, some crispy garlic potatoes, and a green salad. Due to his conversation with “Tomas”, all he could manage for the sandwich was a thumb’s up. But he scarfed it down when the call ended. Creamy, cheesy, hammy, delicious were his descriptors. I overcooked the sandwiches a little, but the dark brown crust was hidden by the bechamel. Lunch was a hit.

Croque monsieur is probably one of my favorite things to eat. You can find it in Paris either with or without the bechamel, but I definitely prefer it with. Otherwise, it’s just a grilled ham and cheese sandwich. To make a good croque monsieur, I use Swiss cheese and Virginia-brand ham (honey ham and that boiled crap both make it taste funny). Also put a little smear of Dijon mustard on the inside of one slice of the bread. One of my former significant others said it wasn’t a real croque monsieur unless it was on a croissant. I think 40 million Frenchmen may disagree. Every recipe I’ve ever seen calls for white bread. But don’t even think of making it on wheat bread. Trying to make this a healthy recipe is really missing the mark.

LA loves to try pretending that he doesn’t like whatever it is that I’ve cooked. He didn’t even bother with this one. He was open in his love for this sandwich. I should probably stop all this cooking…he’ll never move out.

Dinner for Two

2010-08-26T17:52:00.001-04:00

While the Pigs and Potatoes endeavor doesn’t constitute a total failure, I was shooting for a slightly more impressive dinner using the three leftover spinach and garlic chicken sausages. I still had three containers of figs just waiting in the fridge to go bad, but I wasn’t entirely taken with the idea of a fig and chicken sausage casserole, although a variant of that was mentioned in my beloved Meats cookbook (chicken and peach casserole). The answer was lasagna.

Ok, I’ll admit I didn’t make the entire lasagna from scratch. I had half a box of lasagna noodles, plus a jar of spaghetti sauce that was just taking up precious space in my pantry. I’m sure I could’ve made both, but I did need to get rid of some surplus. Since only LA and I would be eating the lasagna, and neither of us are very good at leftovers, I made it in an 8”X8” pan, rather than the typical 9”X13”. We’d still have more than enough lasagna. My concern wasn’t the quantity, so much as the quality.

The chicken sausages were Target’s Archer Farms brand. LA felt they were the only bright spot of Pigs and Potatoes, so I assumed they would be good in the lasagna. I also like a bit of creaminess in my lasagna. This called for a bechamel (white) sauce. Luckily my milk still had a few days of life left in it, which saved me a trip to the supermarket in the rain. Bulking up the lasagna was the job of some wilting spinach I also had sitting in the fridge. I could saute that and add it as a layer. At least it would go with the sausages.

Finally came assembly. I chopped up the chicken sausage (I didn’t really want big pieces of it), added it with the standard ricotta/egg mixture, plus my jarred sauce. The spinach was the next layer. The final layer was bechamel and a heavy covering of mozzarella. I would like to take a moment to toot my own horn as well. I never measure when I make a bechamel. I just dump everything in and hope for the best, which I never get. My bechamel is always too thick and often tasteless. Today it came out perfectly. I was quite proud of myself.

I wrote up the evening’s menu on the dry erase board stuck to my fridge: figs, prosciutto, and goat cheese in phyllo tartlet shells; chicken and spinach lasagna; and oatmeal raisin cookies. I could pretend it was a real restaurant (Chez Lula).

We paid minimal attention to the fig and prosciutto tartlets. The golden, bubbling mass in the oven was our primary interest. I doled out “manly”-sized portions to both of us, and we dug in. LA made what I thought was the “I don’t like it” face. He finally admitted that he liked it but wanted to come up with a description more involved than “It’s good”. He finally came up with “It’s so good it makes me want to eat it on both sides of my mouth, even though I know I can’t.” I’d forgotten about his broken tooth. He ate the creamy top layer first, although I was saving this for the last. I always save the best part of my meal for the last bite. Neither of us finished the gigantic portion, even though we gave it our best efforts. LA was saving room for an oatmeal raisin cookie. I was sparing my self from a sense of gluttonous shame.

Before the cookies had even cooled, LA was sneaking one. “Best oatmeal cookie I’ve ever had.” Considering the dough has been in my freezer forever and I don’t even know where I got the recipe anymore, I was very pleased. I had sprinkled them with a little Fleur de Sel before baking, to give them a salty bite to offset the sweetness. I thought the touch added something. Based on the way in which LA inhaled three, I don’t think he had a chance to notice the salt. The inhalation of the three was compliment enough.

We’ve had two dinner services at Chez Lula: a potato stuffed with a sausage and a full 3-course meal involving lasagna. The second was definitely the more popular. I’m already planning future meals. Chez Lula is back in business and hopping, even if it’s only for two people.

Misadventures of the Clueless Tourists

2010-08-25T08:17:00.001-04:00

LA and I are the goingest people I know. We travel almost as much as Pope John Paul II, although, sadly, we don't have a Popemobile. Occasionally we have a plan, but usually the plan sort of craps out somewhere on the highway and we end up miles and hours from our destination. Some people may call it "lost", but we like to see it as an adventure.

I informed LA to put on his fancy pants and get ready to go to lunch at the 3rd best truck stop in America (or maybe in North Carolina, I couldn't remember which the sign had said). We drove north and didn't see anything which even resembled the 15th best truck stop in America. We kept going. We passed Salisbury. We passed the exit for Winston-Salem. LA said we may as well just go to his dad's house for lunch. In Virginia. I accepted defeat and turned around at a gas station in Lexington. We bought Cheerwine cake to stave off hunger. Two asides: I love Cheerwine cake, and Bryan, the cashier at Judy's Food Mart, was great. He told us all about the new scented Silly Bandz they'd gotten in. After agreeing on the friendliness of the people of Lexington, we settled on lunch in Winston-Salem.

Back south we went, figuring we could just have lunch in Atlanta if all else failed. The exit for Winston-Salem was closed! Now where are we supposed to have lunch? I saw the sign for the Historic Spencer Shops and NC Transportation Museum, then cut across two lanes of traffic to get off the highway.

We ended up at Our Place Cafe in Historic Spencer Shops. LA wanted to sit outside. He would later regret it. The waitress was very friendly, even explaining to us the renovations to the apartments upstairs. My patty melt was delightful. LA's enjoyment of his turkey club ended when a fly journeyed in and back out of his mouth. He was the one who picked outside.

Down the block is Bucky's Produce. Not to be missed! Handwritten signs throughout inform you that Bucky's has the most expensive produce in town. They may need to take a marketing seminar. Apparently, if you can find it cheaper somewhere else, that's your problem. LA left with a knitted donut pin cushion, and I with a recipe booklet called Southern Pot Pourri. The booklet was 10 cents, but she threw it in for free because of the donut purchase. I was less interested in the recipes than in the racially stereotypical stick figures on the cover.

Includes a suggested menu called "The Germans are Coming"

We bid adieu to Mr. and Mrs. Bucky and ventured back the the NC Transportation Museum. For those of you who say there's nowhere to take your kids, you should stop your bellyaching and head to Spencer. I'm no train fanatic, but the museum is great! For starters, it's free, which always adds to a museum's greatness. For $6, you get a highly informative and fun ride on an old locomotive. LA had never ridden a train before, so that made the trip even better. We saw the Wright Brothers' plane, old cars, and flight attendant uniforms from the 1960s. From the "gift station", I obtained the dining car menus for lunch and dinner from 1976. I talked LA out of buying the engineer's hat. We also learned a lot about trains. (Did you know that, when a train comes to a crossing, it blows its whistle two long times, a short time, and another long? And that all train whistle signals are standardized throughout the US and Canada? I live near a train crossing and have verified Point #1. And now you've learned something, too.)

Sadly, there are no photographic records of this journey. LA and I both forgot our cameras. We didn't think we'd need photos of the truck stop. Next time, we'll take the cameras. We've learned our lesson: we will never end up where we actually planned to go. But the day ended up even better for it. Had we found the 3rd best truck stop in America, LA wouldn't have had the pleasure of his first train ride, and I wouldn't have had the pleasure of seeing him eat a fly.

Pigs and Potatoes

2010-08-24T11:25:00.000-04:00

With LA back in my guest room, I now have a captive audience/guinea pig for some experimental recipes. I have a number of them in mind, but I decided to start slow. I'd found a wonderful-sounding recipe in the classic cookbook Favorite Recipes from Southern Kitchens: Meats. What's not to love about a book called Meats?

The recipe? Pigs and Potatoes. This recipe has everything that I look for: catchy title, short ingredient list, easy instructions, and the promise of an unusual dining experience. The ingredients called for are simply baking potatoes and sausages. The instructions were easier said than done: bore a hole in each potato with an apple corer and jam a sausage link into the hole. Bake until done.

Sounds easy enough. We picked our potatoes, ensuring maximum girth for the hole-boring. Next came the sausages. Spinach and garlic chicken sausages sounded tasty.

Breakfast sausages would be about the same diameter as the holes created by the apple corer. The chicken sausages were not. With a lot of elbow grease and laughter (and a little squirting from the sausages, I finally got the sausages into the potatoes and into the oven (at 425 degrees F for 45 minutes).

The smell that filled the house had us eagerly awaiting the ring of the timer. The potatoes were finally done and we dug in. The sausages were very good. Redolent of garlic, light-tasting, and not at all greasy. Surprisingly, though, the flavor of the sausage didn't permeate the potato. Not even a little. LA liked the sausage, but added, "This is the driest potato I have ever eaten." I rationalized it by saying that a normal baked potato would have butter and sour cream to help out with the dryness. LA wasn't buying it.

Beigest meal ever.

I haven't given up on Pigs and Potatoes. We'll be having it regularly until I can make it edible. Next time will be with Mexican chorizo. I say a greasy sausage will make for a better potato. LA prefers the word "moist". Either way, I see a lot of Pigs and Potatoes in our future.

Pumpkin and Spice and Everything Nice

2010-08-22T20:01:00.000-04:00

I'm not normally a huge proponent of Walmart (although I am there at least three timer per week), but I am advising everyone to put down whatever you are doing and head there right away.

My nearest Walmart has been undergoing "renovations" for two months now. As far as I can tell, "renovations" actually means "moving everything around on a daily basis so that I can never find what I'm looking for". The one constant is the candle aisle.

I often stop to smell all the candles, hoping for one, just one, that smells so good that I can't live without it. I finally found it.

Walmart's Mainstays brand Pumpkin Spice candle is my New Favorite Thing. The smell envelopes my entire living room and makes me feel as though I'm living in a pumpkin pie. And the small one is just $1! Plus, it comes in a jar, so it's portable and you don't even need a candleholder.

The only downside is that my New Favorite Thing is causing me to crave autumn and all the things that come with it. Like pumpkin pie. Until autumn officially arrives, I'll just be burning my pumpkin spice candle.

If you aren't a big fan of pumpkin pie (God forbid!), they have other scents too, like hazelnut, Cinnabon, and something involving cotton.

The Magical Fig

2010-08-21T21:52:00.001-04:00

Two weeks ago, I noticed a woman at the farmers' market inquiring about the contents of a basket. The vendor replied, "They're figs", at which point I shouted, "You just made my day!"

Fig season is my most anticipated. I eagerly await the appearance of the little nuggets of deliciousness each fall. Figs taste like nothing else, and I can't get enough.

Due to the smart dealing of one farmer, I returned home today with four containers of figs. For lunch, LA and I had figs with prosciutto, goat cheese, and black pepper honey. After dinner, I had more figs with goat cheese and honey. I still have three containers left.

Tonight will be spent scouring cookbooks for new and interesting ways to cook figs. Or I could just eat the rest of the figs straight from the containers. That's the most likely scenario.

If you've never had figs before, now is your chance. If you decide to pass on them, that's okay, too. I'll just eat enough for both of us.

An Average American Weeknight Supper

2010-08-18T10:18:00.000-04:00

Actual telephone conversation:
Me: Sorry it's loud--I'm making dinner.
LA: What are you making?
Me: Broccoli and Brie risotto with chicken.
LA: Oh. Sounds good.

LA pointed out that this isn't a normal conversation between average Americans. I realized some years ago that a normal meal for me really isn't that normal.

I had some leftover pesto, plus cream in the fridge and a chicken breast in the freezer, so I thought dinner might be spaghetti with chicken and pesto cream sauce. But, alas, no spaghetti, and it was raining, so walking up to the supermarket was out of the question. I had lasagna noodles, but wasn't really feeling it. And I'll be the first to admit that I'm all thumbs when it comes to making fresh pasta. A quick inventory revealed arborio rice, frozen broccoli, and some left over Brie from God-knows-when.

I didn't grown up eating risotto. I grew up on tater tot casseroles and Hamburger Helper. My first encounter with risotto was in my own kitchen, when I tried a recipe for lemon and leek risotto, from a vegetarian cookbook I'd just purchased. The risotto was very al dente, but the guests were polite enough to eat it all. A short time later, I had risotto in a restaurant. I was hooked. I was also determined to become a risotto master. I'm not even close, but risotto has still become one of my stand-bys. I use it as a base for whatever is handy, and I have yet to be disappointed. Whether or not it my risotto meets the authentic Italian standards may be up for debate, but it's definitely not average American.

Food for thought: What kind of person tells her family members that her spouse has died when he really hasn't? On that note, I'd like to give a shout out to Uncle Bill, who, despite reports to the contrary, didn't meet his maker a year ago. Good to have you back, Uncle Bill!

Where's Lula?

2010-08-16T19:04:00.000-04:00

My recent posting hiatus can be attributed to two separate, but somewhat related, occurrences. First occurrence: I got a virus on my laptop. Yes, a virus. Please don't send me emails and comments asking if I'm really sure it's a virus. LA verified it for me as well. I can turn on my laptop and that's about it. Money being tight, I've had to put off getting it looked at or fixed. My sole method of posting at this time is by library visit. I've become a regular.

The second occurrence is directly related to the first. With my laptop out of commission, I couldn't spend my days surfing the web, watching TV (since I don't have a TV, my laptop plays this role), instant messaging people, what have you. This gave me a lot of down time, in which I looked around my house and realized just how much I hated my kitchen. Time to take matters into my own hands.

For one week, my intrepid sidekick LA and I painted the kitchen, including the cabinets. We disagreed over whether or not spraypainting the cabinets would be a good idea. Good idea or otherwise, we did it. Then realized the cabinets were sucking up all the paint. With our do-rags on, high from the spray paint fumes, we returned to our nearest home improvement store to buy a gallon of paint. In a can. They didn't appreciate our singing or our questions, such as "Can you make this white even whiter?" or "What do you have that will get paint off linoleum...and my feet?" By the time we got through with the cabinets, we were so tired of painting that we said to hell with painting the cabinet doors. They're still lying on my living room floor. The beauty of a lack of cabinet doors is that everything is super easy to get to.

LA in a fog of spray paint. It's a wonder we didn't die.

Once the cabinets were done, it was time to paint the walls. On LA's advice, I had chosen "Carrot" from the paint strip. I think "Cheeto" may have been a more appropriate name. The first coat that went on was ghastly. What was I thinking to paint my kitchen the color of a Cheeto? By the time the second coat dried, I was convinced I'd made the right decision. LA even agreed.

Was it worth it? While I still have to scrub the spray paint off the kitchen floor, the rest of the kitchen looks amazing. It's so happy and welcoming. I actually want to cook now. So look forward to hearing more about my culinary adventures, since I will be spending far more time in the kitchen.

The doors will be painted and added at a later date.

Have Your Cake and Wear It, Too

2010-08-07T13:39:00.000-04:00

I love food. I love big, tacky jewelry. I love when I can combine the two. Ok, I'm not the one doing the combining. A certain Handsome Savage dabbles in jewelry design. Just one of his many talents. While I often provide him with cooking advice and samples, I receive handicrafts in return. His newest jewelry adventure involves rings made out of tiny household products: toilet paper, trays of beer, and, my favorite, foods. Just yesterday, I became the proud owner of a cake ring. A ring with a cakeplate and a big sparkly pink cake. Everyone loves cake. It makes people happy. The same Handsome Savage is even having a cake tattooed on his arm as we speak. Now I can look down whenever I am feeling sad and be cheered up by my happy cake ring. It's fantastic.

If you are interested in your own piece of original household-item or food-related jewelry, you can contact LA by visiting the above link to his blog or following the link from the menu on the left. If that is too much work for you, let me know what you'd like and I'll pass it on. An Etsy boutique is also in the works. Be the first on your block to wear an authentic Handsome Savage beer tray ring!

It's Not Pronounced Kweesh

2010-08-04T13:35:00.003-04:00

Every time I hear the word "quiche", I think of the dinner scene in Sixteen Candles. The whole family is eating quiche, and Long Duck Dong asks how you spell it. Grandpa Fred replies, "You don't spell it, son. You eat it!"

I, for one, don't spell it. I do eat it. I think quiche is great: scrambled eggs, delicious add-ins, and a pie crust. What could be better? I know that quiche became ubiquitous in the 1970's, and the flavorless, rubbery versions ruined it for everyone. But for me, quiche never died and has no need to make a comeback. I've been eating it all along.

I briefly worked as the pastry cook in a Charlotte restaurant and was responsible for making the quiches, as they would offer a "quiche du jour". In case you didn't know, "quiche du jour" is French for "quiche made out of whatever is left over in the cooler and needs to be used up before it goes bad". I never eat quiche in a restaurant. At home is a different story.

Quiche recipes abound in books and on the internet, many claiming to be the "ultimate" or "best". Thomas Keller, who is a genius, has a recipe for quiche in his book Bouchon. He says that it's not really a quiche unless the crust is at least 2". Julia Child says the crust needs to be at least 1 1/2". Both suggest using a flan ring. Chef Keller also requires processing the eggs in a blender to make the quiche extra fluffy and not eating the quiche until the next day, when you cut out a slice and reheat it in the oven. I'm sure his version is delicious. And a lot of effort. Plus, I'd have to buy a 2" flan ring.

I do not claim for my version of a quiche to be the ultimate. I'll leave that to Chef Keller's 2" flufferated version. If I'm being lazy (as usual) and don't wish to make a pie crust, I'll buy either a full-size frozen pie crust or a refrigerated pie crust that I can cut into smaller sizes. I blind-bake it (with no filling) for 5-10 minutes, just to get it to set. I find whatever is in the fridge that I want to add to my quiche and prepare that. Finally, I mix 3 large eggs with one cup of liquid, be it milk, cream, half-and-half, whatever. Put the add-ins in the crust, pour over the custard, then bake until it's done (350 degrees F for about 40-45 minutes). Easy peasy. (If you're even lazier than I am, most supermarkets sell quiche custard in the frozen section. Just pour in the crust and you're done.) If you get heavy-handed with your add-ins and have custard left over, make another quiche or whip up some scrambled eggs for breakfast tomorrow.

A note on the liquid used in making the custards. I recently received a frantic call from a certain Handsome Savage regarding the liquid. Here's the conversation:

LA: Can I use water instead of milk for the liquid?
Me: You can, but it will be gross. Remember the omelet at Libby's that you didn't like because you said the eggs had been watered down? It will taste like that.
LA: Ok. I'll talk to you later. I need to go buy milk.

Your quiche, and anything you make, will only be as good as what goes into it. Garbage in, garbage out. It's worth repeating. Quiche's return to the mainstage is tenuous, at best. I'd like to see it stick around, so no crappy quiches, please. It's better to go without than ruin it for everyone.

We All Scream for Ice Cream

2010-08-02T13:52:00.000-04:00

Kannapolis seems to think that summer is over. We ended a "beach music festival", complete with fireworks, to mark the end of summer. On July 31. I don't necessarily buy into their theory that summer ends when July does. In Colorado, August brings fresh, juicy, ripe peaches. Here, in NC, the season begins a little earlier. Peaches have been showing up in the market for a couple weeks, but they just keep getting better. As you all know, I'm a bit lazy, and standing over the sink to eat a drippy peach is a little too much work. I like to find alternate ways to eat peaches. One of the very best is peach ice cream.

I'm sure I could find plenty of peach-flavored ice cream at the supermarket, but I'm talking real ice cream with real peaches in it. Where the peach flavor comes from the fruit itself and not from some lab on the New Jersey Turnpike. To be sure, I knew that I'd have to make my own.

Making ice cream is a lot easier than most people imagine, especially with the advent of the electric ice cream machine. I got one for Christmas several years ago. While I don't use the machine frequently, I do use it often enough to be glad I've got it. The most difficult part is remembering to keep the canister in the freezer. Now that my freezer is reasonably empty (thank you, Early Escapades!), I keep the canister in there at all times. When I decide it's time to make ice cream, I can do it right then. No advance planning required!

Peach ice cream is also a good option (as is peach cobbler) to use up some of those peaches just sitting around, getting a little overripe. But don't use any that are way past their prime. Remember, garbage in, garbage out. I picked up some blemished peaches for this purpose. They're cheaper and just as good in ice cream. Another bonus of homemade ice cream is that it tastes almost nothing like purchased ice cream. Unless you love the insipid taste of store-bought, generic ice cream. Then homemade may not be for you. But I love it. Maybe it's because I can taste the love in it. Love tastes better than something made in some lab on the New Jersey Turnpike (there's that phrase again). This way, I've got summer in the freezer until I decide that summer's over.

Peach Ice Cream
Adapted from Baking at Home with the Culinary Institute of America
Makes about 1 1/2 quarts

2 cups heavy cream
2 cups milk
2 cups sugar (divided use)
6 large egg yolks
1 tbsp vanilla extract or vanilla bean paste
1 lb ripe peaches
2 tbsp sugar

Prepare an ice bath: place ice cubes and cold water in a large bowl.

Combine cream, milk, and 1 1/2 cups sugar in a heavy, nonreactive saucepan over medium heat. Bring to a simmer, stirring constantly. Meanwhile, whisk together the egg yolks with the remaining 1/2 cup sugar until it thickens and turns pale yellow, about 2 minutes. Gradually add about 1/3 of the hot milk mixture to the egg mixture, whisking constantly. Pour the tempered egg mixture back into the saucepan. Cook over low heat until the custard coats the back of a spoon (about 180 degrees F), stirring constantly. Pour the custard through a fine-mesh sieve into a bowl. Place the bowl in the ice bath. Add the vanilla. Stir the custard every few minutes until cool. Refrigerate at least 4 hours and up to overnight.

Peel and pit the peaches, then cut into slices or chunks. Sprinkle with the sugar and refrigerate for a few hours. After the peaches have macerated, puree half. Crush the other half into smaller pieces.

Freeze the chilled custard in an ice-cream machine according to manufacturer's instructions. Towards the end of the freezing, slowly mix in the puree and the peach pieces. Pack the ice cream into containers and freeze 2-3 hours before serving.

Whole Lotta Bakin' Going On

2010-07-29T17:22:00.002-04:00

I’ll admit it. I’ve been lazy lately. I’ll blame the heat for part of it. It’s just been too hot to turn on the oven and bake anything. My air conditioner struggles to keep the house cool when I don’t have the oven on. But I’d been craving some jam thumbprint cookies. The weather finally cooled a bit (if you can call 90 degrees cool), so I decided that it was baking weather. Time for thumbprint cookies!

The reason behind the cookie craving was a photo I’d seen in one of my French cookbooks. I am one of those food nerds who flip through cookbooks and drool over all of the photos (not literally). The photo of the cookies always catches my eye. According to the cookbook, they’re very easy to make and inexpensive. I love that French cookbooks often tell you the ease of the recipe and how much you’ll be spending on it.

Jam thumbprints can be pretty boring and often need a bit of jazzing up. How did I jazz up mine? Apricot mango pepper jelly. With red pepper flakes in it. I picked it up from Joanie, of Ohana Favorites, at the farmers’ market. Sweet and spicy all at the same time. Perfect.

The cookies turned out a little less sweet than others I’ve made. I attribute this to the use of a French recipe. European sweets are often less sweet than American ones. That works for me. After trying several thumbprint cookie recipes, this is the one I’ll probably be sticking with. Plus it is very easy and inexpensive!

Petits-four a la confiture
(Jam Thumbprints)
Adapted from Francoise Bernard’s Ma Cuisine d’Aujourd’hui (Hachette Pratique)

Scant 1 cup flour
4 tbsp (1/2 stick) unsalted butter, softened
4 tbsp sugar
1 large egg, separated
¼ cup jam
Pinch of salt
Ice water, as needed

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees F.

In a mixing bowl, using a wooden spoon, cream the butter and sugar until they lighten. Add the egg yolk, flour and the salt. When the dough becomes too thick to beat with a spoon, continue mixing by hand. If the dough is too crumbly and doesn't hold together, add ice water 1 tsp at a time until the dough just comes together.

Make walnut-sized balls of dough and place them on a greased or lined baking sheet. Make an indentation in the middle of each ball with your finger or the handle-end of a wooden spoon. Divide the jam evenly among each ball of dough, just filling the indentation.

Lightly beat the egg white with a fork, then brush the beaten egg white over each of the dough balls. Cook for 20-25 minutes, rotating the pan once. Allow to cool on a rack. Makes about 24 cookies.

And the Winner Is...

2010-07-28T13:22:00.001-04:00

My friend, Vince, always says that customer service is a dead art. After spending a lot of time in customer service, I tend to agree. Phone specialists don’t care about your problem, and that’s assuming that they even understand what your problem is. After fighting with the USPS phone system for 15 minutes while trying to track a package, he hit 0 to get an operator and was promptly informed by the automated system that “there is no need for you to speak with a representative. The information you have been provided is correct.” Go into any retail outlet, and the odds are good that you won’t be spoken to or even acknowledged. Even the Walmart greeters are getting a little slack in this area.

My biggest irritation comes with the apparent disinterest in customer service on the part of waitstaff. I have been rushed out of restaurants by waitstaff ending their shift (this usually occurs around 4-5pm, when day shift leaves and night shift turns up). I’ve had plates stack up through the entire meal because the server didn’t feel like removing appetizer plates when bringing dessert. Or having to beg for a drink refill. I’ve been a server, so I know that it can be an extremely difficult job, especially during a rush. I also, however, tend to go to restaurants during the off-hours when the server may only have one or two tables. When I was surviving on tips, I made every effort to keep my tables happy. Chatting with my coworkers didn’t pay the rent.

When I see some spectacular customer service, I feel it’s important to recognize it. That’s why today I am presenting the inaugural Lemon Goodness Customer Service award. And the winner is…Paula from the Kannapolis IHOP. IHOP. Really?

LA and I weren’t really interested in anything specific, and we were going to be in the vicinity of the IHOP, so we decided to go there. Paula recommended the strawberry lemonade by saying that she takes a cup home with her every night. LA went with the recommendation, but I chose watermelon lemonade. After looking at their specials menu, we saw that the “Minionade” was strawberry lemonade with sprinkles on top. I asked Paula if LA could have sprinkles on his. She brought the sprinkles out and dusted his drink with him. When he needed a refill, she asked if he wanted sprinkles on it, as well as offering sprinkles on our to-go beverages.

As always, LA and I were laughing hysterically about jokes that only we find funny. Paula said that we seemed fun and wanted to work with us. We told her that we’re unemployed but not to feel too bad about it because we hadn’t liked our jobs anyway. She told us to apply for jobs at the IHOP because she’d love to work with us. LA and I agreed that we’d love to work with her.

When it was time to order, I told her that LA wanted the “Rooty Tooty Fresh ‘n’ Fruity”. Paula said many of her customers order it as “the Rooty Tooty, hold the Fruity”. Considering my dining companion, this was especially hysterical. In all honesty, LA didn’t want this, I just wanted to say it. We both ordered the special Minion pancakes: lemon pancakes with berry compote and whipped cream. If you stop by IHOP in the near future (while they’re available), we both highly recommend the Minion pancakes.

Paula told us that she’s been at that IHOP for 11 years. She isn’t worried about job security, because people will always want to eat. Even if they don’t have jobs. Like us. It was obvious to us that Paula must love her job. She’s been there for 11 years, which means she isn’t an aspiring actress or just passing the time until a better job comes up. While she joked around with us and was a pleasure to talk to, she also made sure that the service itself was good.

These days, it’s easier to find poor customer service than great customer service. We found one of the greatest. I also want to say that we left Paula a hefty tip. She deserved every penny of it. If you want to be treated like you’re actually appreciated as a customer, go see Paula at the Kannapolis IHOP. We agreed that we’ll be returning. We may even call and get Paula’s schedule first!

A Hummus Among Us

2010-07-26T22:23:00.002-04:00

Flipping through Stuff White People Like: A Definitive Guide to the Unique Taste of Millions, one discovers that white people love hummus. They (we) like to keep it in the fridge next to the Brita pitcher. Truth be told, my hummus is usually on the shelf above the Brita pitcher, but it's still there all the same. I don't know how, when, or why white people jumped up on the hummus bandwagon. According to the aforementioned book, we do love adopting other people's cultures.

I don't know when I had hummus for the first time. My mother and I would get gyros from a Greek fast food place in the mall, and maybe I had it there first. Or perhaps at Yum Yum Cafe, where I was first introduced to Chicken Shwarma. You'd never guess that Yum Yum Cafe was a Middle Eastern restaurant, going by the name alone. I can thank my friend Jon for taking me there for the first time. It was a block away from our dorm, and several of us took a little trip. I've been a sucker for Middle Eastern food ever since.

Where was I? Oh, right...telling you about how much white people love hummus. Or maybe just about how much I love hummus. Having it for the first time is a revelation. It's nutty, earthy, a little tangy, and very creamy. I would never have imagined that chickpeas would taste so good (or eggplant, in hummus's cousin baba ghanoush).

The best part about hummus may be how unbelievably easy it is to make. I will say that it's easiest if you have a food processor. I bought my food processor for the sole purpose of making hummus (I do use it for other things occasionally). The most difficult part is tracking down tahini, which is paste made from ground sesame seeds. Most large supermarkets are starting to carry it, and it's often found in either the Kosher section or near the peanut butter. Once you find it, stick it in the refrigerator and it will be there until the end of the world or you run out, whichever comes first. I have a giant jar that I bought over two years ago. I'm still using it. If you're really lazy, hummus can be purchased ready-to-eat in the produce or deli section of most supermarkets. Oddly, my nearest supermarket has it with the cream cheese and non-dairy creamer. Go figure. We've also found hummus nearly ready-to-eat in a can at the Super G Mart. Although it appears that you would just open the can and eat it (like Joe and LA did), the fine print on the side actually says that you need to add garlic and lemon juice. It's still easy.

LA has been making all manner of hummus lately, using beans other than the typical chickpeas, most notably black bean hummus. Google "black bean hummus" and you'll find scores of recipes. Hummus really is a great snack. High in fiber, no cholesterol. I suppose it would be even better for me if I ate it with carrot sticks, but I prefer the more traditional pita bread. Even if it is whole-wheat pita. With it being 100 degrees and humid every day, I'm looking for things to eat that don't require cooking. Hummus is the way to go. If you haven't tried it before, now is definitely the time to do so.

I have been making the following recipe for ages, and I have no idea where it comes from. LA has been substituting lime juice for the lemon juice and prefers it. I haven't tried it yet, but I wanted to throw it out there as an option.*

Hummus

1 14-oz can chickpeas (aka garbanzo beans or ceci beans)
3 tbsp tahini
2-3 tbsp lemon juice
2 garlic cloves, crushed
pinch of salt
cayenne pepper, to taste
1-2 tbsp olive oil

Drain the chickpeas, reserving the liquid. Put the beans in a food processor with the tahini, lemon juice, garlic and salt. Process until very smooth, scraping the sides of the bowl occasionally. Add the cayenne pepper and process until blended.

With the machine running, slowly pour in the olive oil. If it's too thick, add some of the reserved bean liquid to thin.

*When the weather starts to cool, I'll be posting a recipe for one of my favorite soups of all-time. It includes chickpeas and tahini. You can justify buying tahini for two recipes!

Mmm...Butter-Wrapped Margarine

2010-07-23T06:24:00.011-04:00

Yesterday I participated in a live online chat with Kathleen Purvis, the food editor of the Charlotte Observer (a link to her blog, I’ll Bite, can be found on the menu on the left). Most participants asked questions pertaining to seasonal items, such as zucchini or peaches, or about local restaurants. A participant named John asked the best question of the day:

Is margarine safe to eat straight from the tub? Or is there some sort of special preparation you use? I like to wrap margarine in butter before serving. Is that recommended?

Ms. Purvis, I, and, presumably, the rest of the participants were not prepared for a question of this caliber. In the case of John’s question, the whole is definitely not greater than the sum of its parts. Each part is a beguiling question all its own. Therefore, I’ve decided to break down the whole and attempt to answer or, at least, offer my thoughts on each part.

Is margarine safe to eat straight from the tub? Margarine has been around for over 130 years. While it hasn’t been available the entire time in tub form, I, and most of you, grew up eating margarine straight from the tub, most notably on toast. When my niece was about 3, I saw her eating a spoonful of a thick yellowish substance, but couldn’t make out what it was. When I asked what she was eating, she replied, “Butter” (I wouldn’t expect a 3-year old to say “Margarine”). Rather than trying to convince a 3-year old that eating a spoonful of margarine may not be the healthiest option, I instead asked my mother why she’d given it to her in the first place. Her answer? “That’s what she wanted.” My niece recently graduated from high school relatively unscathed and without dying a horrible margarine-induced death. I am aware of arguments on both sides regarding the safety and health factors of eating margarine. Trans fats, no trans fats. The argument is basically whether or not to eat it at all. I have yet to hear an argument regarding the tub.

Is there some sort of special preparation you use? I wish John had elaborated on this point. I’m not familiar with a “special preparation”. Maybe melt it and then chill it to get it back to its hardened state? Sprinkle it with lard? Luckily, John does have an idea.

I like to wrap margarine in butter before serving. Again, John really could’ve elaborated on this one. This is, in fact, my favorite part of the question. I surveyed a couple people to see if they could figure out how John was accomplishing Butter-Wrapped Margarine. LA’s partner Joe and I both theorize that perhaps he softens a stick of butter, then wraps it around a chilled stick of margarine. My mother thinks he might soften the butter and just spread it on the margarine. Either way, I’d love to be in the kitchen with John when he’s wrapping his margarine. I’d also like to see how his guests react to this delight. Joe pointed out that John’s special preparation really does put you on the fast track for a massive coronary. Really though, more than knowing how he wraps the margarine, I'd like to know why.

Is that recommended? No. While I wouldn’t necessarily dissuade someone with John’s tenacity from wrapping margarine with butter, I cannot recommend or even endorse this solution. If you can really call it a solution. I would love to ask John where this suggestion came from in the first place. Is it an old family tradition? Did he hear about it on one of the morning TV shows that are always frightening my mother with how ubiquitous and relatively innocuous household products will kill or, at the very least, maim you?

John, if you’re reading this, please answer my questions, as I have answered yours. I eagerly await your response. Until then, I will be eating my margarine directly from the tub, as I am just too lazy to figure out how to go about wrapping it. Fingers crossed that it’s safe!

P.S. In case you're wondering, Ms. Purvis's response to John's question was "Why would margarine not be safe from the tub? I don't think it needs preparation. It's margarine."

Terror at the Supermarket

2010-07-16T14:41:00.000-04:00

Who knew that the supermarket could be such a dangerous place? I regularly walk to the supermarket, since it isn't that far. Today, on my trip, I got offered a ride from a very creepy guy, who turned around on the highway to come back to where I was walking, and who then chose to sit in his truck and stare at me. I made a side trip into another store, hoping to wait out the creepy guy. When I finally made it into the supermarket, he was waiting for me. Right by the door. He then proceeded to follow me around the store, and even went to the same checkout lane that I did, although it was the farthest from where we'd most recently been and not the shortest. Then stood unusually close to me. I practically ran out of the store and across the highway. I even had a plan hatched in case he followed me out. Miss Tammy and LB at the Grill would play a role as my protectors! Fortunately, he drove on by and didn't follow me to the Grill or home. I didn't have to use Plans A, B, or C (all of which were fully formulated in my head by this point).

I would like to thank Officer Zienka of the Kannapolis Police Department, who came to my house, took a report, and was very polite and sympathetic. Unfortunately, he said that the supermarket customer service manager is not overly helpful and doesn't usually cooperate in any investigation, even into shoplifting. Officer Zienka also said that "crackwhores" in an adjacent area will accept rides from strangers and that makes all the men offering think that anyone will accept a ride. I was advised to start driving to the grocery store. I really didn't need this much excitement in my day.

On a side note, I googled "Kannapolis police Zienka" to make sure I got his name right. One of my first results was "lesbian zdenka donkeyporn". At least I got a laugh out of all of it.

Menu Scolaire Update

2010-07-16T00:57:00.000-04:00

I found out today that my dad definitely still will not eat canned peaches. Thank you, School Lunch Program!

Riddle Solved?

2010-07-14T15:53:00.000-04:00

It seems that we may finally know the answer to the age-old question: Which came first, the chicken or the egg? British scientists have determined that it was the chicken! Read all about it here.

Menu Scolaire

2010-07-13T12:34:00.001-04:00

From 2nd through 8th grade, I went to school in a rural community. Lunch there was the same for everybody: meat, starch, veg, and dessert with a glass of milk. Well, okay, not for everybody. John was lactose intolerant, so he got water. But everything else was the same. I remember hot turkey sandwiches with mashed potatoes. Ketchup-coated meatloaf with cheese-topped mashed potatoes. My least favorite lunches included sloppy joes or sauerkraut. Karen would eat the sauerkraut, so the rest of us would put it in our hands and pass it to her under the table. Sloppy joes were not as easily passed, so we had to find ways to make them edible enough to get through half. My dad was the janitor there, and he can tell you about the canned peaches that were served. Or, in his words, “those damn slimy peaches”. To this day, I still don’t think he’ll eat canned peaches.

When I started high school, we moved to a larger town with a more “traditional” school lunch program. We had the regular school lunch line, with foods that most of us wouldn’t eat, and the pizza and burger line, filled with rubbery pizza and what appeared to be cardboard cutouts of burgers. My junior year saw the installation of a salad bar. If I did manage to eat school lunch, it was from the salad bar. More typically, it was a Dr. Pepper and Grandma’s chocolate chip cookies from the vending machine (sorry, Mom). The salad bar was a definite improvement and gave us the opportunity to eat something that resembled food. Many schools are “considering” this route, and I highly encourage it. Food service managers can say that kids won’t eat vegetables, but that’s because the vegetables they’re usually given have been overcooked to the point of grey mushiness. Or the vegetable is ketchup.

One of my favorite blogs is Fed Up with Lunch: The School Lunch Project. Mrs. Q eats school lunch every day, then photographs it and provides commentary. Most of what she eats falls squarely in the classification of “beige food”. Mrs. Q also allows guest bloggers. My favorite guest blogger is a resident of Toulouse, France, and provided a link to Toulouse’s website, where you can find school lunch menus all the way back to January. I had to take a look. Honestly, I nearly cried. I then called Vince and read some of the menus to him. He nearly cried. He also asked where these meals were when we were kids. Why don’t we deserve good food? I’ve decided to provide some sample menus as well. If you’d like to try your hand at reading them in French, they can be found here. Otherwise, please to enjoy in English.

Monday:
Mache and beet salad
Breaded fish
Pumpkin puree
Organic apple tart

Tuesday:
Leek tart
Organic roast chicken
Green beans
Chantailloux cheese
Fruit

Wednesday:
Radishes with butter
Salmon with sorrel sauce
Vegetable cakes
Strawberries
Cookies

Thursday:
Endive salad
Hamburger steak with tomato sauce
French fries
Roquefort cheese
Peaches in syrup

Friday:
Grated carrots
Ham or Fish sauteed in butter
Macaroni
Organic yogurt
Fruit

Other weeks, the kids got veal marengo, lamb curry, and beef stew. If the kids are eating school lunch, this is what they’re getting. If they don’t want what’s on the menu, they can bring their own lunch. No one is pandering to their tastes by saying, “Kids don’t want salmon in sorrel sauce, so we provide them with nachos and chicken nuggets.” The kids eat the salmon in sorrel sauce, and they grow up to have experienced a wider range of tastes. They’re also less likely to be picky eaters. Just ask LA about that.

I’m not saying that we have to take on the French menus in our schools. Maybe accept the spirit of what they do. We don’t have to serve our kids crap because it’s cheap and we think it’s all they will eat. Offer them something that actually looks appetizing (grey peas are no one’s idea of appetizing) and see what happens. You never know, we might end up with kids who like eating vegetables more than Flamin’ Hot Cheetos covered in nacho cheese.

Yum Yum and Other Tidbits

2010-07-12T13:13:00.000-04:00

While the American supermarket has every item that I want on a daily basis, sometimes I want to dress up, go to a fancy specialty food store, and make my pantry feel pretty. This was part of the reason LA and I ended up in South Park: I wanted to go to Dean & Deluca. I love Dean & Deluca. Mainly I love to go there and wish I had the money to buy all the things that they sell. I stand at the chocolate counter and stare in amazement like a...well, like a kid in a candy store. Fleur de sel caramel chocolates, strawberry balsamic chocolates, peach caramel chocolates. I want it all. But it's not just the candy.

They have a great selection of sanding sugars for baking, raspberry shallot mustard, a million types of salt. Plus they have a spectacular cheese and charcuterie section. We were looking at the cheeses and were offered some samples. First up, a smoked blue cheese. I can honestly say I'd never had one of those before. Not a creamy blue, it was still very smooth, with a mellowness brought about by the smoking. I didn't think it could get better. Next we had an ashed goat's milk cheese. I was surprised when LA took a piece, since he usually is fairly vocal about his dislike of goat cheese. The middle of the cheese had the slightly chalky consistency typical of a fresh goat's milk cheese, it was very creamy around the edges, similar in texture to a Camembert. LA and I both liked that one, although not as much as the blue. Finally, we were offered a piece of an aged sheep's milk cheese. When LA grabbed it, I knew he hadn't heard what she said. We both bit into it and declared it the best of the three. It was nutty and reminded me of Gruyere. While LA was contemplating buying some of it, I said, "It's sheep's milk", at which point he began to gag and carry on like it was the most disgusting thing he'd ever eaten. I reminded him that, only moments before, he'd loved it. Didn't matter. The love affair was over. He continued gagging until I took him to one of the sample stations around the store and he got a piece of bread.

We also considered buying some "Pepper Delights", although the card was laying on its side and I thought they were called "Peter's Delights". I'd hate to think of what those are. The Pepper Delights were small green peppers stuffed with prosciutto-wrapped mozzarella. A couple customers assured me that they were addictive. I asked the quite-attractive counterman if they were spicy at all. He said that they were far too spicy for him, but maybe we'd like them. After the issue 6 feet away at the cheese counter, I decided to forego the Pepper Delights. I didn't have any bread in the car to feed LA if he didn't like those. So far, I had avoided all traps, but I was unable to resist the pastries. My heart was set on a lemon meringue tart, but, at $7, my wallet was against it. My wallet won. I settled for a lemon cupcake. Which I ate the following day. That thing was huge! I ate it in one sitting and regretted it for several hours. I'm not used to having so much sugar in my stomach at one time. I had initially planned on eating the cupcake right away (in front of LA), so I needed a beverage with which to wash it down. Dean & Deluca carries bottled water in the shape of a flask! Was there any way for me not to buy it? I think not. Apparently I got some looks later, in the car, while I was taking a drink from it at a stoplight. I was actually proud of myself and the restraint that I showed in Dean & Deluca. I would've happily walked out of there with my arms (and LA's) full of gourmet delights. That will have to wait until the next trip.

Besides not wanting to torment LA, my other reason for not eating the cupcake right away was that I'd been informed I would be doing some pie testing later. I'm not much of a sugar fiend, so I have to limit myself to a small amount per day. When we got back to LA's, he provided me with slices of two pies. The first pie was a peanut butter pie, whose recipe had been given to him by a non-cooking friend. One cup of peanut butter, one cup of sugar, and two containers of whipped topping, combined and plopped into a graham cracker crust. I'm not a big peanut butter fan. I like it with jelly, and that's about it. I took a small sliver of that and still only ate half of it. If you are a peanut butter fan, then it's a great pie. He served it straight from the freezer, making it incredibly convenient as well. If you want an easy dessert for a hot summer night, that may be the way to go. Unless you don't like peanut butter. That's where the second pie comes in.

The next pie was blueberry yum yum. And it really was yum yum. Blueberry pie filling, sugar, Dream Whip, and cream cheese in a graham cracker crust. I'm not typically a fan of blueberries, but this was so good. LA gave me a small piece and took the larger piece. In retrospect, I should've distracted him and took the larger piece when he wasn't looking. The yum yum can be made with any berry pie filling, and, like the peanut butter pie, can be made and kept in the freezer. Both pies only require assembly. If LA can do it, so can you! (He'd probably tell you that, too.)

As a side note, I'm a little behind on my Saturday Night Live, but I caught an episode in which Zach Galifianakis (who I love), as a gay beauty pageant dad, tells his wife, "You smell like a bunch of stinky ol' Bojangles sausage biscuits." Do they even know what those are in New York? I, for one, love a Bojangles sausage biscuit. With some Bo-rounds. Hmmm, I might be going out for breakfast.

Blueberry Yum Yum
from L.A. Berlyn

1 purchased graham cracker pie crust
2 cans blueberry pie filling
1 1/2 cups sugar
1 box (2 packets) powdered dessert topping mix
2 16 oz packages cream cheese, softened
1 cup milk

Combine sugar, dessert topping mix, cream cheese and milk. Spread half of the cream cheese mixture over the pie crust. Top with the pie filling. Spread with the remaining half of the cream cheese mixture for a marbled look. To have a white cream topping, pipe the remaining cream cheese mixture on top, rather than spreading it.

Lunch Counter

2010-07-11T21:55:00.001-04:00

Some mornings come earlier than others. Yesterday's didn't come early at all. It came so late, in fact, that I missed the farmers' market. So LA and I had to find something else to do. Hmmm, what to do on a very warm Saturday? We headed on down to South Park. (Cue Les Claypool.) We did have ourselves a time, too.

The food court at the mall wasn't appealing to either of us. We passed on McCormick & Schmick's since they do steak and seafood, and I really don't want to deal with LA going into anaphylactic shock over lunch. He didn't feel like Mexican food, and M5's menu didn't appeal to him. That brought us to The Counter, for "Custom Built Burgers". The Counter is a small, mostly West Coast chain with a menu consisting, unsurprisingly, of mostly burgers. The restaurant is small and industrial, with high ceilings, visible ventilation, and a lot of blue paint. Too much blue paint, in my opinion. Even the staff wears blue t-shirts. While we were waiting for our food, we got to watch the World Cup. If you call periodically glancing at the monitors above the bar "watching the World Cup".

LA went the easy route and ordered the Hobo Pack. The menu describes this as "an assortment of grilled vegetables topped with fresh herbs". While it didn't specify which vegetables, LA was told that it did contain mushrooms and he would not be able to order it without them. He ordered it anyway, deciding that he would just pick them out. What he got was a parchment packet filled with an assortment of grilled vegetables. I saw corn, red peppers, zucchini, and mushrooms. He loved it and said he would start making it at home. Minus the mushrooms.

I like to make things difficult for myself, so I custom built my burger. While options are good, too much of a good thing can be overwhelming. For my burger, did I want beef, chicken, turkey, or veggie? 1/3 pound, 1/2 pound, or 1 full pound (post-cooking weight, not pre)? Did I want it on a bun or on a bed of lettuce? If I wanted a bun, did I want a regular bun, whole wheat, or an English muffin? Those were the easy choices. I was allowed one cheese, but had to pick from among 11 different options. I could have up to four toppings from a selection of 20. I can't imagine picking carrot strings, hard-boiled eggs, and pineapple as toppings for a burger, but obviously someone else can. Mustard and mayo aren't good enough for The Counter's patrons. I still had to choose from among 20 sauces. My mind was spinning by this point, and I wished I'd just picked the BLT from the standard menu. Before the headache kicked in, I settled for a 1/3 pound beef burger with Tillamook cheddar, bacon, dill pickle chips, scallions, and organic mixed greens, with garlic aioli on an English muffin. Oh, and the fries are extra. But what's a burger without fries? So I got those too.

The burger arrived perfectly cooked and one inch thick. Some may say that I have a big mouth, but I encountered some difficulty consuming the burger. I think "nibbled" best described how I ate my burger. The fries were shoestrings, sprinkled with seasoned salt. They were very good. I used the garlic aioli as a dipping sauce. Aioli is really just a fancy word for mayo, so I was expecting garlic-flavored mayo. I didn't detect even a hint of garlic. I also didn't detect a hint of cheddar on the burger, although I could see it was there. The bacon was a little on the undercooked side, but tasted fine. I was most happy with the scallions. They gave the burger an unexpected kick that was lacking from the cheese and the aioli. A tasty burger, yes. Worth the price? Not really.

I know this is South Park, where I should be happy to pay more for the privilege of appearing wealthy or trendy. The waitress told LA that she is a vegetarian. I said that of course she is. All servers in a place like that are vegetarians. It may even be a rule. She was friendly and polite, but more interested in chit-chatting with her friends than taking care of her tables. This also may have been a rule, since only one server spent more time serving customers than talking to coworkers. I wasn't unhappy with the experience at The Counter; just not impressed. The food was good, but not good enough for me to make another trip. I don't need 20 sauces and 11 types of cheese. I can get a burger with much less hassle anywhere, for the same price or less. And not have a headache when I leave.

Venice by Way of New York by Way of Kannapolis

2010-07-09T14:33:00.002-04:00

I may be living on a shoestring, but that doesn't mean that I don't want to treat myself periodically to a meal made by someone other than me. Especially if it's inexpensive. It was this desire that led me to Venice New York Style Pizza and Italian Cuisine. Not only is Venice located very near my favorite wig store (no, I don't wear a wig. Yet.), but they have signs advertising their daily lunch specials for $5.95. That's hard to beat.

On our first visit, LA and I were initially the only customers, but more people came in while we were there. We both immediately took to the decor, with LA saying that he felt like he was dining on a train due to the unique booths. We took forever to order, mainly because we were having too much of a laugh over their menu. The menu items weren't the issue. The spelling and grammar were. As a pizza topping, you have the option of getting "green papers" or "banana papers". The Buffalo shrimp come with a side of "Ranch Dre". The "Chicken Rap" includes "chider" cheese. Many of the pasta dishes are available "backed", such as Backed Cheese Ravioli. You can even get Spaghetti Wits Meatballs. Our personal favorite was the "Child Lasagna". I believe they mean it is a child's portion of lasagna, but, without an accompanying description, you really are left with just an assumption. The server must be used to people's reaction to the menu, because she seemed totally unphased by it. When LA asked for his stromboli with banana papers, she said that it was the printer's fault and that they'd be getting new menus. She even provided us with takeout menus, so we could enjoy the typos in the comfort of our own homes.

Enough about our spelling snobbery. LA ordered a small pepperoni stromboli. What arrived was almost the size of his arm. I can't even imagine what the large must look like. The stromboli was pretty standard, with a side of marinara. LA raved about the marinara. I ordered broccoli chicken alfredo, which, surprisingly, was spelled correctly on the menu. The fettucine arrived in a delicious cream sauce that was a little lighter on broccoli than I would have preferred. As promised, it was topped with grilled chicken. I couldn't make out the seasoning used on the chicken, but it was absolutely delicious. And it was grilled. Menus often say grilled, but the chicken is often either parcooked and put on the grill for 30 seconds, or it's cooked by another method altogether. While LA thought that the cream sauce was too thin, I thought it was perfect. It wasn't overly heavy, which I find is often the case with restaurant alfredo sauce. I'm going to go out on a limb and say that the chef actually knew what he was doing. Go figure. The pastas come with a side of garlic bread. In this case, it was a chunk of Italian bread, sliced in half, slathered with garlic butter and oregano and baked. I ate it all.

On our next visit, a few customers were already there. We began with the homemade potato chips with a side of ranch dressing. Maybe I'm too cynical, but I was more than a little surprised when homemade potato chips arrived. Very thinly sliced, skin-on Russet potatoes, fried until crisp. Some weren't as crisp as others. Just another way to tell that they were homemade. It's easy to forget just how good homemade potato chips are. I know I should stay away from the fried foods, but it's hard to do when they're that good. I would recommend the potato chips to anyone going to Venice.

LA ordered a personal cheese pizza from the Express Lunch menu. A larger-than-expected thin-crust cheese pizza was brought out on a pedestal (literally). When I asked LA how it was, he told me again how much he loves their marinara. That was far more descriptive than the "Good" that I normally get out of him. My side salad came first. Lettuce, tomato, carrots, and green olives with a side of not-homemade blue cheese dressing (despite what the menu says about homemade dressings). The side salad also comes with onions and green peppers, but I opted out of those. The only thing I really have to say about the salad is that it came too soon after the potato chips, so it just had to sit there on the table and watch me eat the chips. After the salad came my lasagna. The menu indicates that the lasagna is comprised of layers of pasta, ground beef (not child), and cheeses, topped with a homemade sauce. My expectations being low, I was prepared for frozen lasagna with some fresh sauce poured over it before heating it. (I worked in one establishment where the homemade lasagna was just that--frozen Stouffer's lasagna, topped with our own sauce.) Again, I was happily surprised. The whole thing was homemade. The whole thing was huge (I took more than half home with me). And the whole thing was delicious. It also tasted just as good the next day, when I reheated it. LA also took half of his pizza home with him, although he later ate it in the car, having been reheated in the heat of the car. Mmm, car pizza.

After two visits, LA and I both had the same impressions of Venice: good-sized portions for the price, all the important items are homemade (salad dressings notwithstanding), and everything we've had has been very good. We were highly impressed, moreso than expected, and we plan to make this one of our regular joints. We aren't, however, looking forward to the newly-printed menus coming soon. Part of the charm of Venice is the ability to laugh at the "printer's" mistake. I'll just have to keep my takeout menu to remind me.

Venice New York Style Pizza and Italian Restaurant is located at 1121 S. Cannon Blvd. in Kannapolis.

That's a Lot of Garlic

2010-07-05T15:26:00.001-04:00

I'm always eager to try a new food. I'd stumbled across a couple of recipes for garlic scape pesto, and, never having heard of garlic scapes before, I knew I had to try it. I love pesto and I love garlic. What could go wrong?

The garlic scape is actually the stem of the garlic plant. We most commonly eat the garlic bulb, but the stems are edible as well. Garlic scapes look remarkably similar to the green part of scallions, and I actually got them confused with scallions on more than one occasion. I'm sure I'd seen garlic scapes many times, only I assumed they were funny looking onions.

After reading the recipes, I decided to seek out the garlic scapes. I didn't have to go very far--I found them at the farmers' market. I duly paid the price for a bunch of the scapes, then put them in the refrigerator. Each day I would look at them and think, "I need to make pesto today." But I always had an excuse. After several days, I finally had the now-or-never moment and made the pesto.

The pesto is very similar to normal basil pesto. I used the garlic scapes, walnuts (they're what I had), grated Parmesan cheese, salt, and olive oil. Very straightforward. I put it all into the food processor and let it go until it was the right consistency. I then ate it with some cooked pasta.

The verdict? I thought I loved garlic, but apparently I don't LOVE garlic. The pesto was very garlicky. So much so that I couldn't even finish all the pasta. I must've had garlic breath for three days. It was garlicky and pesto-y, but I don't believe I'll be having it again. Garlic scapes are one product of spring and summer that I won't be looking forward to next year.

If you think that there's no such thing as too much garlic and you'd like to try the pesto anyway, click here for the recipe that I (sort of) followed.

That IS a Tasty Burger!

2010-07-01T20:23:00.001-04:00

At some point during my magazine-flipping or internet-surfing, I came across a photo of a pimento cheese bacon burger. It looked heavenly. I didn't read the accompanying article or recipe. I just figured I'd make my own with pimento cheese, bacon, and a burger. So I began planning.

With this recipe in mind, I bought some pimento cheese from Sandra with Harvest Catering. I've had good pimento cheese and bad pimento cheese. The supermarket variety is sweet and bright orange. I'd love to say that it qualifies as bad pimento cheese, but I can't. I happily eat it. But Harvest Catering's is very good pimento cheese. Grated cheddar, cream cheese, and pimentos. I didn't have any bread, and my ground beef was frozen, so I ate the pimento cheese with crackers. Until I ran out of crackers. Then I ate it with my finger. The point is that I'd eaten all of the pimento cheese by the time the ground beef had thawed, so I didn't get to have my long-desired pimento cheese bacon burger.

I was counting the days until I'd run into Sandra at the farmers market again, and today was the day! Sandra has two varieties of pimento cheese: mild and jalapeno. For a change of pace, I opted for the jalapeno. While I was out, I also picked up some Arnold's Select Whole Wheat Sandwich Thins, which look like really thin English muffins. I prefer to use English muffins as hamburger buns, so I figured the Sandwich Thins would work just as well.

Dinner time had finally arrived. I was using ground beef from Scally's Natural Beef for my burger, with some bacon from my freezer, and Harvest Catering's pimento cheese. I also added lettuce, pickle, and mayo to make it a traditional burger. Before final assembly, I toasted the bread. Just as protection against sogginess. So how was the burger? More heavenly than the original photo had led me to imagine! I almost cried when I finished eating it, because I didn't want the deliciousness to end. I was even tempted to make another one, but that would just be gluttony. I think I've discovered my new favorite burger.

Harvest Catering is at the Winecoff School Rd farmers' market on Tuesdays and Saturdays, and at the Kannapolis Research Campus market on Thursdays. The Scallys are at Winecoff School Rd on Saturdays.

Super G is Super Awesome!

2010-06-28T17:26:00.001-04:00

Sometimes two occurrences take place simultaneously that cannot be explained away as mere coincidence. Fate, destiny, serendipity. Whatever you want to call it, they happen and you are compelled to action. My serendipitous moment came when 1) I learned of the Super G Mart's opening in Charlotte, and 2) I ran out of banana ketchup. Time for a road trip!

The first thing we noticed when we walked in was the smell. I've found that all "international" markets tend to have the same fish smell. The second thing we noticed was the huge produce section. We saw things we recognized and things we didn't. I saw one woman stuffing handfuls of hot chile peppers into a plastic bag. Whatever she was making, I was glad I wouldn't be there for it. We also spent a fair amount of time making fun of herbs that we'd never heard of. Not so much the herbs themselves, but their names. Lemons were 7 for 99 cents, which was a much better deal than LA had gotten at his neighborhood supermarket, where they were 75 cents each.

A walk through the meat section of any international or ethnic market can be educational, and Super G Mart's is more educational than most. I was eyeing pig uteri when I turned around and came face to face with a whole frozen pig. I think it was staring at me. Less disturbing, but far more horrifying, were the beef lips. We couldn't spend too much time pondering those, because we were getting a little creeped out by their appearance. I didn't get a good look at the variety in the fresh seafood case, as we walked past quickly. The look on LA's face told me that his morning smoothie may make another appearance if we didn't get out of the area. I did see live blue crabs, lobsters, and Self Serve shrimp.

In the frozen food section, I picked up a package of shu mai. I love shu mai. LA wanted some red bean buns, but all directions where in what I assume was Chinese. The illustrations on the back led us to believe that the buns could be cooked in a bamboo steamer, a microwave, or a rice cooker. We couldn't identify any numbers or additional cooking directions, so LA put them back.

Our favorite aisle was probably that containing the canned foods. Not because we loved canned foods so much, but because the packaging on the generic brand was so inventive. The label on the creamed corn had a cartoon corn cob sitting in a creamed corn hot tub, which another corn cob stirred with a giant spoon. The French green bean can was my favorite: Two green beans dancing the tango, one outfitted in a stripped shirt and mustache, the other in a pencil skirt and beret. Another had a mess of beans all wrestling in a ring. Food labelling doesn't get any better than that.

We hurried past what we called the American Food aisle. We were there for the strange products with the funny markings on them. We were successful in the hunt for banana ketchup. Three large bottles went into my basket. Any Asian, Middle Eastern, Indian, or Hispanic product that you may want can probably be found at Super G Mart.

Since we were there on a weekend, another product available in mass quantities was the clueless white Looky Lou. No matter how long and hard you may stare at a label written entirely in Korean, you are not going to spontaneously begin to understand the Korean language. The English translation will not pop out at you if you look long and hard and squint with one eye, like the 3-D pictures that were available in the late '90s. If you can't figure out the label quickly, look at the tag on the shelf. It's in English. Then get out of the way of people who are actually trying to buy things. I'm not against the supermarket tourist, but it's only good manners to go during off-peak hours and move out of the way of paying customers.

I left Super G Mart with three bottles of banana ketchup, frozen shu mai, and a package of tostada shells. LA left with a head filled with ideas of meals to come. We'll definitely be back. Only we may bring our noseplugs next time (and go on a weekday).

The Super G Mart is located at 7323 S. Independence Blvd, in what was previously a Bi-Lo. While they do accept credit and debit cards, they are not currently set up to accept EBT/food stamps. A number of signs around the store, including on the doors and all cash registers, will inform you of this. If you still try to use your food stamps, please know that the cashiers (and other customers) will laugh at you. It's not like you haven't been warned.

P.S. This post was going to be far more interesting and eloquent, but my laptop turned evil as I was trying to post and I lost everything I had typed. I apologize for leaving you with the "I hate my laptop" version.

So, How's It Going?

2010-06-23T17:36:00.001-04:00

I've been asked a few times how the Escapades v. 2.0 are going. Honestly, some days are easier than others. I find myself craving familiar foods, although they are different than those that I would normally crave. Last week, I had a mystifying craving for ham. I broke down and bought some NC-produced country ham. And it was delicious. I'm eating less meat, which any dietitian will tell you is a good thing. I'm also eating a lot more fruits and vegetables--another good thing. Overall, I'm pretty pleased with myself.

Yesterday, I made a quiche using Miller Produce eggs and zucchini, with Cackleberry Farms' feta. I also threw in some jarred red peppers that were sitting in the fridge. I haven't had quiche in ages, but it seemed an appropriate use of the many ingredients I had.

LA bought a smoothie recipe book (I don't know if that would be considered a "cook"book, since nothing is cooked), so we've both been making smoothies left and right. He's sticking with the more traditional fruit-and-yogurt smoothies, while I'm branching out. I bought peaches and blackberries, then threw them in with some (organic) vanilla yogurt. That was a satisfying, albeit crunchy smoothie. Lesson learned: strain the blackberries after pureeing to get rid of all the seeds. I made another one, utilizing the lesson that I had learned, and the results were even better. I made another with cucumber, avocado, and kale. I didn't realize at the time that my yogurt was vanilla, instead of plain, so it made for an odd smoothie. Not bad, but not at all what I'd expected. After buying some plain yogurt, I decided to give it another shot. This time I added a small can of V-8 that I had sitting around. The resulting smoothie was a most unsettling color. While it tasted okay, I think the vanilla version had been tastier. I should probably stick with the fruits, since those turn out the best.

Lunch today was the result of needing to use up the rest of the kale that I'd picked up on Saturday. I was planning to cook it with garlic, then toss with spaghetti. That would've involved at least two pans, and I'm lazy. I bought some new potatoes from Miller Produce last night, thinking I'd make more Spanish potato salad, but soup sounded like a better idea. I'm a huge fan of the Toscana soup at Olive Garden (even if it does come out of a microwavable bag), and I had the majority of the items to make something similar. The Toscana soup has spicy Italian sausage in it, and I was going for a vegetarian version. A diced onion, quartered potatoes, shredded kale, some water and a little milk all made for a delightful soup. I got a little heavy-handed with the salt, but it all worked out in the end. As usual, I measured nothing. When I make potato soup, I think about the soup that my Grandma B. used to make, and I try to imitate the flavor of hers. Her soup never included kale or potato skins, but she may have still recognized it.

I've done pretty well in other ways, too. I'm drinking a lot more water, as well as herbal tea. The teas I've gotten from "the tea lady", as we call Linda, owner of Indigo Tea Market. She has a plethora of different teas, my favorite being the Long Island Strawberry, which is a green tea. The Moroccan mint is also wonderful. LA mixes the peach tisane with normal orange pekoe to make a flavored sweet tea. I actually bought a kettle for all the tea I've been drinking. Yesterday I fell off the wagon and had a Diet A&W root beer. No sugar and no caffeine, but plenty of other questionable ingredients that caused me to feel guilt for the rest of the evening. It was, however, the first soda that I'd had in a week and a half! I've also (mostly) stopped eating sweets. I've never had much of a sweet tooth, but what little I had is in decline. I ate one of my beloved Cheerwine truffles, and it was so sweet! No sweeter than it had been the last time I'd had one, but I'm apparently getting more sensitive to the sweets. I have to give LA props, too, since he's been eating a lot fewer sweets, and that's really an accomplishment for him (we won't mention the toaster pastries that he bought at the dollar store).

All in all, this has been easier than I thought, although still a struggle at times. I'm still getting enough to eat, I'm eating foods I enjoy, plus I'm having to broaden my horizons and try new items and recipes. I've got garlic scapes waiting for me, as well as an eggplant and a horribly ugly tomato. Guess I know what's on the menu for dinner!

So Meaty!

2010-06-21T12:39:00.000-04:00

In the case of the beef stew, I can’t say which proverbial chicken or egg came first. Did I want to make dinner with as many local ingredients as possible because I’d decided to be a locavore, or did I want to be a locavore after making dinner? Either way, I was determined to make a full dinner for LA and I using as many ingredients purchased from the farmers’ market as possible.

After reviewing the list of items from Scally’s Natural Beef, I settled on some chuck roast. I hadn’t run into Sandra Scally at any of the markets before. I initially planned on getting beef from T&D Charolais, but they were apparently scared off by the storm that evening. Sandra had stuck it out, so I bought the roast from her. She even invited us out to visit their farm. We’ll be making the trip in the coming weeks.

Now that I had chuck roast, I had to formulate a plan for dinner. I still had some creamer potatoes that I’d gotten from Miller Produce. We got to the market late on Saturday morning, so the pickings were a little slim. No carrots? Everyone had sold out. I managed to find a bunch of meager-looking purple carrots from Barbee Farms. I also bought garlic and an onion from them. My dinner was starting to come together. I had gotten some rosemary from Deborah’s Kitchen Kreations, which I could put to good use in the beef stew.

While looking for carrots, we saw that Ohana Favorites was selling cherries. I love cherries. I grabbed a bag and instantly set my mind on cherry clafouti, a French dessert that falls somewhere between a custard and a bread pudding. I told my dinner plans to Joanie, the owner of Ohana Favorites, and she asked if she could move in. The custardy aspect of the clafouti would come from eggs that I’d also purchased from Miller Produce.

For the sake of full disclosure, I do have to admit that some supermarket items were harmed in the making of dinner. I used beef broth that I already had, as well as half a bottle of red wine, plus tomato paste from a tube (just like toothpaste!). Dessert involved sugar, flour, and milk from the supermarket.

The day of dinner had arrived. LA and I would be eating after completing a visit to the China Grove Roller Mill Museum. We learned all about how flour was produced in the last century. The museum was far more interesting than either of us had imagined. The day was exceptionally hot, and we both looked forward to returning home for a hearty meal.

First up was the beef stew. LA was concerned by the sight of rosemary in the stew, but I’d used a light hand. The rosemary enhanced the flavor of the stew without overwhelming it, as rosemary is often known to do. The stew was full-flavored and delicious. How beef stew should taste—meaty, savory, full of meat and potatoes. Even better was the tenderness of the beef. We ate it with a spoon, and it melted in our mouths. We sopped up the remaining gravy with homemade rosemary foccacia.

The clafouti came next. A sprinkling of Cognac and powdered sugar on the top, and it was ready to go. The cherries were sweet, although a little masked by the other flavors in the custard. I was concerned that it wouldn’t be custardy enough, since the eggs I used were medium-sized, rather than the more standard large ones. It didn’t matter. We each had a sizable portion and nearly licked the plate clean. Later that night, I finished off the rest of the clafouti. I told myself that it wouldn’t be as good after having been refrigerated. In reality, I just wanted to eat it all!

After the meal, we tried to take an honest assessment. Had it been cheap? No. Had it tasted differently than it would have using supermarket ingredients? No. The beef was more tender than what I’ve typically found in the supermarket, but the taste was imperceptible. With all that being said, I had to ask myself if it was worth the extra cost. My answer? Absolutely! I felt good afterwards. The meal had been quite hearty and filling, but didn’t sit like a brick in our stomachs. While I hadn’t grown the vegetables or slaughtered the beef, I still got a sense of accomplishment. I’d searched for some of the ingredients, rather than showing up and finding them. Plus, the menu had been modified based on what I found. I had a pseudo shopping list, but it wasn’t as easy to fill as if I’d run to the supermarket for everything.

While future meals may not involve as much thought and effort, I’ve decided that the source will still be the same. The farmers’ market sells everything I need to feed myself daily. If it’s not in season or the vendors are out, I guess I just won’t have it that day. That suits me just fine. I’d rather have a locally-grown in-season tomato than some wilted asparagus from Peru. Sorry, Peru. If I want your asparagus, I’ll just have to eat it while I’m visiting Macchu Picchu. Otherwise, I’ll stick to my local vendors.

Escapades v. 2.0

2010-06-14T15:04:00.001-04:00

I watched Super Size Me. I read Fast Food Nation. I was indignant about what I was seeing and hearing, but my indignance slowly waned. I went back to my fast food diet, and, as I’d been warned, I gained weight. I can honestly say that I was living on a fairly steady diet of fast food. Fast food is so much easier than going shopping, picking things out, preparing them, and finally cooking them. Fast food is one stop. You order it, they give it to you, you eat it. It is fast.

I’ve had The Omnivore’s Dilemma sitting on my bookshelf for two years. The book came highly recommended by my friend Russ. He had stopped eating French fries after reading it. I had started reading it, but then walked away. In the course of those two years, every time I’d considered picking it up again, my mind had said, “I’m tired. I don’t want to have to think. Read something that is easy and requires no mental effort.” Whenever my mind puts up an argument like that, I tend to acquiesce. Last week, I decided that the time had finally come. I’d been spending a lot more time at the farmers’ markets, meeting wonderful people who were active proponents of fruits and vegetables and a healthier lifestyle. I wanted to know what my dilemma, as an omnivore, was. Now that I’ve read it, I don’t think I have much of a dilemma anymore.

I learned that one of the antibiotics given to cattle on industrial feedlots is erythromycin. I’m allergic to erythromycin. Is that why I got a stomachache every time I ate beef? Supermarket beef is out. Even if it doesn’t all contain erythromycin, there’s no label telling me which does and which doesn’t. I’ll have to avoid it all. I’m left with natural farm-raised beef. I know just where to find that.

As I’ve mentioned before, supermarket foods travel an average of 1,500 miles to get to me. That’s a long trip. I don’t want my food to be better travelled than I am. I guess that means that I’ll be eating local fruits and vegetables, which have come an average of less than 50 miles to get to my plate. If I don’t need to get meat, fruit, or vegetables at the supermarket, what does that leave? Soda.

But soda’s out, too. Whether you are for or against high fructose corn syrup, the simple fact is that soda provides empty calories. No nutritional value, outside of the sweetener. I’ll stick with water, tea, and juice, thank you. If I’m getting no nutrients, I don’t want the calories. Diet soda doesn’t have any calories, but much of it has caffeine. I’m pretty sensitive to caffeine. I can drink small amounts, but I’ve avoided energy drinks due to the high levels of caffeine. I’ve looked at the labels on diet, caffeine-free soda. Basically it’s brown carbonated water containing a lot of things I can’t pronounce. I could find that for free in some puddle in the street. I’ll pass.

On a recent visit to the supermarket, we mentioned to the cashier that we’d been to the farmers’ market. The cashier replied, “The farmers’ market is so expensive!” I’ve found some items to be more expensive, some less. In the case of those items that are more expensive, I’ll save up the money that I would normally spend on sodas. That should cover the difference. Another noticable difference may be in the overall value. I recently spent $15 for a roast from Scally’s Natural Beef. My mother bought a comparable roast from the supermarket for $10. The one I bought was so tender that I was able to eat it with a spoon. My mother complained that all the roasts she ever bought at the supermarket were tough, regardless of how long or low they’d cooked.

Hmmmm, it sounds like I’m on a new form of escapades. Instead of eating all of the processed foods from my pantry, I will try to stick to local and/or healthy foods. Fresh foods, like zucchini, tomatoes, and blueberries. Local, natural meat and poulty. No soda. I’ve been doing this for about a week, and I already feel a lot better. Hopefully, this version of the escapades, Escapades v. 2.0, will last longer than the previous version. Wish me luck!

Taste of Charlotte

2010-06-11T22:11:00.000-04:00

I just got back from the Taste of Charlotte, and, boy, are my arms tired! Oh, wait...that's not how it goes. Actually I just got back, and, boy, are my feet tired! The Taste of Charlotte is in a small area, but we walked up and down it several times. As usual, LA was with me, and we met a couple friends there as well. Since it was called "Taste of Charlotte", taste was exactly what I planned to do. I did a lot of tasting, and it was not cheap. But I did have some good things and some great ones.

In order to purchase food or drinks, you need to buy tokens or "coins". You can buy 7 coins for $10 or 15 for $20. I started with 15 coins, and ultimately had to buy another 7. The variety was really quite impressive. I started with the bacon-wrapped scallops from Brazas Brazilian Steakhouse. I got two scallops and a skimpy portion of beans and rice. The scallops were well-cooked, although I'd recommend the chicken or beef and get more for your money. You couldn't really taste the scallop, so get something more flavorful. My next stop was Namaste India. LA and I both got the "vegetarian platter". The platter consisted of a good sized portion of aloo palak, or potatoes cooked in creamy spinach, with basmati rice and naan bread. The spinach was quite spicy. I was unable to finish mine because I ran out of bread and rice and had no more water to temper the spice. Namaste India's booth was right next to Brazas. Their real stores actually share a building on Independence Blvd. as well. I've eaten at both and recommend the lunch buffet at Brazas, as it includes the option of going over to Namaste to load up on some Indian side dishes to go with your Rodizio.

I stopped in for the crab cakes from Dilworth Neighborhood Grille. The crab cakes were low on crab and high on filler. They had a subtle spiciness and were served with a mildly spicy remoulade. I wasn't expecting much from their outward appearance, but I was pleasantly surprised. Their menu says that they are "award-winning". Maybe they are better at the restaurant. They were good enough, but I wouldn't give them any sort of award. After having the crab cakes, I found that Caffe Siena had a Chilean sea bass cake with curry aioli. My friend Dawn and I both agreed that this was absolutely delicious. It blew the crab cakes out of the water (no pun intended). One large cake was served, full of chunks of sea bass. I knew I was eating fish and not just filler.

Ri Ra Irish Pub provided ruben bites and Guiness barbecue wings. The ruben bite was corned beef with melted swiss served on a piece of bread with what the menu refers to as "marie rose sauce". I'm not crazy about Thousand Island dressing, but the marie rose sauce was great. Sweet and a little tangy, but no "islands". My only complaint with the ruben bite was the level of difficulty in eating it. The dish was definitely made for a knife and fork, but only a fork was provided. I gave up and ate it with my fingers, getting sauce all over me. Luckily, a hand-washing station is located at the north end of the festival, and that's where we'd stopped to finish the ruben bite. Shelby had also gotten this and had the very same opinion that I did. She also said cabbage or sauerkraut would have been a nice touch. Dawn and Shelby shared the Guiness wings and said they were fantastic. I passed simply because I didn't feel like dealing with walking, crowds, and chicken bones simultaneously. But the wings were highly recommended. Soul food always draws me in, and Mert's Heart and Soul was no exception. Dawn and Shelby are both fans of the restaurant and suggested I get something. I got the Soul Roll, an eggroll filled with black-eyed peas, collard greens, rice, and chicken. The chicken was unnecessary, as I didn't realize it was even there, and the roll wouldn't have been any less good without it. If all of the food at Mert's is as good as the Soul Roll, I may have to find my way back there. I was still eating it while standing in line at another booth. The young man ahead of me turned around and asked what was in my egg roll. As soon as I listed the ingredients, he said, "Mmmm, a Soul Roll! I just had one."

The best item that I tasted was the Avocado Chill from Blynk Organic. The chill was a very smooth, pureed soup, similar to gazpacho, made with avocado, cucumber, tomato, and lime. Tortilla strips were added on top. The day was hot, my feet were tired, and the hordes of people were getting on my nerves. Yet the avocado soup refreshed me and momentarily took my mind off my complaints. While everything else I'd consumed cost 3 coins, the avocado chill was only 2 coins. If I went back, I would spend all my coins on cups of avocado chill. LA made a horrible face when I finally coaxed him into tasting it, and Dawn and Shelby passed on it altogether.

I still had 3 coins left. By this time, I had tasted everything I wanted to taste, plus the lines were starting to get a bit long. The coins were worthless once I left, and I didn't want to waste any money, so I stopped at Salsarita's and got some beef nachos. For fast food Mexican, Salsarita's is actually my favorite. The portions at the Salsarita's booth were bigger than most of the other vendors, which was a selling point in my mind. So I ended the evening on fast food.

Charlotte has such a variety of independent restaurants; it would be nice to see more of them participating in the Taste of Charlotte. I'm not too familiar with the Charlotte restaurant scene, and even I knew of most of the vendors there. We went there at 5pm today. Although it was hot, we managed to get there before the crowds really turned out. By the time we left at 8pm, the place was hopping. All four of us hate crowds, so I'm glad we all chose to go in the heat of this afternoon, rather than wait until this weekend or even any of the three evenings. I still recommend going, if you like food. Just be aware that you'll spend a lot more than you're expecting.

Side note: many parking garages were advertising "event parking" for $10. I parked across the street from the Epicentre and ended up paying $7 for the three hours that we spent there. We only had to walk a block and a half to get to Tryon St.

End of the Escapades Part I

2010-06-10T10:36:00.001-04:00

There are worse things in life than being called a quitter, and I’ve probably been called a few of those things. But now, I am calling myself a quitter, and I am proud of it! I have decided to quit the escapades. Is it the end of an era? Not really. I’ll gladly provide my justification for this decision.

I knew going in that I had a lot of packaged, processed foods which were probably not very good for me. I bought them for the same reason most people do: they were cheap, filling, and quick to prepare. Cheap is still ideal, as I am on a reasonably tight budget. Filling is always a plus. Now that I’m not working, quick to prepare isn’t as high of a priority as it used to be.

While I was still working, I didn’t cook much, even the packaged foods take longer than I was willing to spend. I ate a lot of fast food. When I stopped working and started the escapades, I ate much less fast food and cooked at home. I also realized that I wasn’t losing any weight. You’d think that I would, if I weren’t having McBurgerjangles all the time. But I wasn’t. I actually started gaining. Maybe I’m getting less exercise, since I was often on my feet and walking around the office. I was eating more junk food at work than I ever do at home. I was baffled.

Recently I finally figured out that I was gaining weight because of what I was eating. All the high sodium foods that made me thirsty and all the soda that I was drinking to quench that thirst. A few days ago, I was reading an article on the effects of high-fructose corn syrup and other sweeteners. Thursday was a rough day, and I did, in fact, have some soda. Those days are over. I’ve given up soda before, but I always return to it to comfort me at whatever high-stress job I accept. I don’t have a job, so I don’t need soda.

Like Morgan Spurlock, in his movie Super Size Me, I also noticed that I had less energy, less desire to do anything, and I was getting fat. Also like Mr. Spurlock, I attribute that to my diet. When I eat fruit and veggies and wash it all down with herbal tea, all that I’ve gotten from one of my many farmer’s markets, I feel so much better. I eat something from the pantry and leave the dishes on the table. I eat something from the market, and I have the energy to clean the kitchen and maybe still write something.

It’s doubtful that I will give up junk food for good. I’m not going to claim to try. I know I will still be tempted from time to time, and I am fine with that. For now, all the processed food in my pantry will either stay there or make its way to a new home. Or get thrown out, since I am not thrilled at the prospect of giving unhealthy food to someone else. Either way, I am proud to be a quitter and look forward to the better health that will come with it!

I Love the Smell of Bread Baking in the Morning

2010-06-09T18:21:00.002-04:00

A few weeks back, at a yard sale of all places, I bought three loaves of Pepperidge Farm bread. The kind that is available in any supermarket. The seller was an employee of Pepperidge Farms and had trays of the stuff. I think I paid $1 for three loaves. I froze two loaves for later use, then ate one, then another, until I’m now down to my final loaf. Usually that would mean going to the store to get more (or hope for another bread-themed yard sale), however I’ve decided against it. I’m not giving up bread. I’ve just come to the conclusion that it would be better and cheaper to make my own.

While it may come to a surprise to many of the people who know me, I actually enjoy making bread. Not only do I get to determine what goes in to my bread, I can even use it as a sort of barometer. I hadn’t been outside yet today, but I knew it was humid based on the stickiness of my dough. I had rosemary and Parmesan cheese that I decided to put to good use, along with a healthy dose of black pepper. The reason my friends don’t realize that I enjoy it is because I just don’t do it all that often. In my head, it’s a very time-consuming process. In reality, it takes less time and energy than a trip to the supermarket. The hardest part of making bread is waiting for it to rise. I’m an American, and we like prefer immediate gratification to delayed. The preparation and mixing only took 10 minutes, but I’ve still had to wait through two rises. I want my bread now!

The easiest and best-tasting bread recipe that I’ve uncovered is for focaccia. The name sounds fancy, but belies a simplicity of ingredients. Flour, oil, water, salt, yeast. Plus anything you want to add to it. One of my most popular versions included Cheddar cheese and jalapenos for a Southwest version. Today’s made use of what I had available.

I had barely gotten the bread out of the oven before I had eaten some of it. I opted to forego the more usual sheet of focaccia in favor of small, individual loaves. My whole house smells of freshly baked bread, and I get the smell (and the bread) all to myself. Since my oven will already be in use for roasting potatoes for potato salad, I may as well throw some bread in there too. Who needs the supermarket when I can make the best bread at home?

(Yes, I know it looks like a biscuit.)

Focaccia
makes one 11"X17" loaf

5 cups bread flour
2 teaspoons salt
2 1/4 tablespoons (1 package) instant yeast
1/4 cup plus 4 tablespoons olive oil
2 cups lukewarm water (105-110 degrees F)

Combine flour, salt, and yeast in the bowl of an electric mixer. Combine water and oil and add to the dry ingredients. With the dough hook, mix on low speed for 1-2 minutes, then raise speed to medium and mix for 5-7 minutes, until the dough is smooth and sticky. The dough should clear the sides of the bowl but stick to the bottom of the bowl. Add flour or water as needed.

Line an 11"X17" rimmed baking sheet (half sheet pan) with parchment paper. Drizzle olive oil on the paper and spread with a brush or your hands to cover the entire surface. Lightly oil your hands and transfer the dough from the bowl to the pan. Maintain a rectangular shape as much as possible. Allow to rest for 5 minutes.

Lift the dough from each end and fold it, letter style, returning it to a rectangular shape. Dust lightly with flour, loosely cover, and let rest for an hour. The dough will swell, but it may not double in size.

Drizzle 2-3 tablespoons of olive oil over the dough. Using your fingertips, dimple the dough and spread it to fill the pan, maintaining a uniform thickness. If the dough springs back as it's being pushed out, let it rest for an additional 15 minutes. After spreading the dough, allow it to rise for 1-2 hours.

Preheat the oven to 500 degrees F. Place the baking pan in the oven and lower the heat to 450 degrees. Bake for 10 minutes. Rotate the pan and bake for another 5-10 minutes, until the top is golden brown.

Remove from the oven and move to a cooling rack. Allow the bread to cool for 20 minutes before cutting it.

Long Live Potato Salad!

2010-06-08T15:11:00.000-04:00

Potato salad is one of the joys of summer. While you can eat it in the winter, I always think of it as a summer dish. When we would take day trips to the mountains when I was a kid, my mother would pack fried chicken and potato salad. I’ve never been a fan of cold fried chicken, but I did love potato salad. During my years in 4-H, we would make potato salad in 5 gallon buckets, stirring with a clean arm, since no spoon would reach the bottom of the bucket. I’ve toyed with any number of potato salad variations, searching for the embodient of potato salad perfection.

The French make their potato salad with a vinaigrette and sometimes smoked sausage. This is a great picnic main course. Highly portable, delicious at room temperature, meat and potatoes all rolled into one. Generally, however, I prefer mayonnaise based potato salads. Heavy on the mayonnaise, with a hint of mustard, maybe some chopped egg or even celery seed. But never pickle relish. I don’t do pickle relish.

Today I tried a new potato salad recipe and may have found my new favorite. French potato salad is good, American potato salad is great, and I’m going out on a limb to say that Spanish potato salad may be the best. I bought creamer potatoes and garlic yesterday specifically for this dish, since I’d seen a recipe and wanted to try it as soon as possible. Beware—this is very garlic intensive! If you don’t love garlic, you could reduce the amount used, but that would be a crime. I say get your breath mints ready for later and give this a try! You may be able to get 3 servings out of this, but I only got 2 since I couldn’t stop eating it.

Spanish Potato Salad
Adapted from a recipe by MySocialChef

1 pound small white creamer potatoes
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon ground black pepper
4 cloves garlic, crushed
¼ cup mayonnaise
1 tablespoon lemon juice
2 teaspoon Dijon mustard
½ teapson hot smoked Spanish paprika (optional)

Preheat oven to 400 degrees F. Quarter or halve the potatoes, depending on the size. Toss with the olive oil, ½ teaspoon of salt, and the pepper. Spread the potatoes on a baking sheet in a single layer. Bake the potatoes for about 40 minutes, turning 2 or 3 times, until the potatoes are fully cooked and browned. Allow to cool.

In a bowl, combine the remaining salt, garlic, mayonnaise, lemon juice, mustard, and paprika (if using). Add the cooled potatoes and stir to combine.

Hot smoked Spanish paprika is a wonder to behold, but can be difficult to find. It’s available online, in speciality food stores, and I’ve made a replica in a pinch using chipotle powder and regular grocery store paprika. While this potato salad will still be good without it, the paprika does add a smokiness that cuts through the mayonnaise.

I was willing to share this with my lunch guest until after I tasted it. He was then told that he would only get one bite. His opinion of that one bite? “That is outstanding.” How often do you hear the word “outstanding” used to describe potato salad? In this case, it’s apt. This potato salad is outstanding and will be a staple for the rest of the summer, and possibly through the winter too. I don’t normally like running the oven for almost an hour during the height of summer, but I’ll make an exception for this.

We Got the Beet

2010-06-06T21:46:00.001-04:00

Weaning myself off of junk food may not be the easiest endeavor that I’ve undertaken. I’ve been addicted for quite some time, and old habits die hard. While I’ve never had much of a sweet tooth, I still enjoy sugar now and again. I’ve found a helpful and unlikely remedy for the removal of junk food from my diet: beets.

I often get the impression that the Beet Fan Club is a small but devoted group of beet fanatics. I love beets. I’ve loved beets for as long as I can remember eating them. Canned beets are a cheap and easy addition to salads, but the flavor is often lacking from sitting in the water for so long. At the supermarket, beets are seldom inexpensive. At my local supermarkets, beets are typically sold in bunches of about 3, for $3-4 per pound. Maybe it’s a deal when you figure in the cost of gas to bring the beets to the supermarket and all of the production, but I want more beets for my money.

This past Friday, I bought a bunch of beets from a very pleasant gentleman who was selling the extra that his family had. I gladly spent $1 for a bunch of about 8 small beets. When I came home, I grated one of them and had it with lettuce and vinaigrette. Tasty, but it was still missing something.

I had been thinking about the remaining beets sitting in my fridge and decided that today would be the day for a salad. I peeled the raw beets, which is easier than rubbing hot beets to get the skin off. I put them in a small pie plate, drizzled them with orange juice and salt, and then put them in a 350° oven for about 45 minutes. I wasn’t exactly timing them—I pulled them out of the oven when I could smell the juices start to burn. While they were still hot, I tossed them in a bit more orange juice. I quartered each beet in an attempt to get them to cool faster. I couldn’t wait. As soon as the steam stopped coming off of them, I started popping them into my mouth. Still warm, the natural sweetness enhanced by the orange juice.

I arranged some mixed lettuces on a plate, added the remaining beet quarters, then drizzled it all with the Stone House mustard vinaigrette. This was topped with the sweet and spicy pecans and the creamy feta that I’d picked up at the farmers’ market yesterday. I almost cried as I neared the end of my salad. While I still have more of the other ingredients, I’m out of beets! I don’t know if I’ll make it until tomorrow to get more! The feta producer apologized that he only had the large container of feta and asked if I’d be able to eat it all. As long as I can get my hands on more beets, it won’t be a problem. Who needs candy when there’s sweet deliciousness to be had in a beet?

The Beet Fan Club is always looking for more members. I will be retaining my lifelong membership and may even begin a recruiting campaign. Long live the beet!

It's Just a Little Kibble

2010-06-05T20:38:00.001-04:00

Today being a Saturday, LA and I were off to the Winecoff farmer’s market. We were on a quest for something a little different than the standard produce. LA found out that he would be the owner of a new puppy by the end of the day. To create a welcoming environment for Mr. Piddlesworth (you don’t want to know his full name), LA wanted to buy some dog treats. I wanted feta cheese. That’s the beauty of the farmer’s market—you can find just about everything there.

Away from the main building, Deborah’s Kitchen Krafts was set up under a canopy. Not only does Deb make some great mustard and tapenade, she has expanded into the world of dog biscuits. These are available in cheese, applesauce, and carrot flavors. Deb recommended the applesauce variety, but LA ignored her and went for carrot. A carrot dog biscuit? As Deb pointed out, she had samples. I tried the carrot one. I could see the carrot but not taste it. LA was a bit appalled, but it was basically a thick, very dry cracker. I made him try it too. Homemade dog biscuits have very few ingredients and all of them are found in typical human food. The dryness was the most unpleasant aspect. So yes, today I ate a dog biscuit. A gourmet dog biscuit.

We took our dog biscuits and headed up to the main building. The heat was overwhelming but worsened as we got inside. Today was the busiest that I’ve seen the market so far this season. People were out in force, many with their kids in tow. We stopped and got peaches for later. We headed to the Cackleberry Farms booth (next to Darryl’s Copper Workshop) for feta and some hard Cheddar-like cheese. All I’ve heard it called is “hard cheese”. We’d tasted it before but never bought any. I’m looking forward to some grilled cheese sandwiches.

As we swam through the crowd into the heart of the market, just past the many bins of different soaps, a man collecting food donations stopped us. Not to ask for a donation, but to ask LA how often he changes his hair color. He’d seen him “around the village” and knew it hadn’t been red before. Then he gave me a high-five for my willingness to walk next to LA in public. But he did call me “striking”, so that was a plus.

We stopped by Ohana Favorites and tried some of Joanie’s Hawaiian pepper jelly. It started out sweet, with a taste of tropical fruit, then turned spicy. An added bonus was that it covered the dog biscuit taste in my mouth. We didn’t get a chance to talk to Joanie, as she had several paying customers in her booth. Along with the jellies and cereals, she also has started selling boiled peanuts. I’ll have to give those a try in the near future.

The booth in the back is occupied by Miller Produce. I wanted to get some honey, so that’s where I headed. LA is a bit of a honey-snob and wanted to know what type of flower their honey comes from. Laura Miller explained that they grow beans, potatoes, okra, zucchini, tomatoes and all kinds of other things, so the honey has a little bit of everything in it. She offered us a sample, but we both turned her down. I tasted it once I got home and found it to be very mild, much more so than wildflower honey. And lighter in color.

As we were leaving, I wanted to stop by Harvest Catering’s booth. On Wednesday nights, Harvest Catering offers takeout meals, including a meat, two sides and a dinner roll for $6. This past Wednesday, I had the pot roast with mashed potatoes and macaroni and cheese (this coming Wednesday's option is baked ham). I was told that the pot roast was fantastic and wanted to find out for myself. I had to give Sandra my opinion. The pot roast was fantastic. Also, the mashed potatoes included chunks of red skin potatoes and a hint of garlic. Delicious! I didn't initially think I cared for the mac & cheese, but then realized I was inhaling it. Although it was baked, it was cheesy and not eggy; just the way I like it. While I was picking up my dinner, I had been talked into some chocolate banana pudding too. Talking me into it didn’t involve much arm-twisting. It was definitely worth the $1.50. During the winter tailgate market, I’d gotten some Candy Apple Jelly from Harvest Catering. I don’t care for cinnamon, and the smell of it was the first thing that hit me when I opened the jar. I forged ahead and discovered some truly yummy jelly. I may be a cinnamon convert. Today I also bought some sweet spicy pecans from Harvest Catering to add to my beet and feta salad. I tried one when I got home. I popped it into my mouth, chewed a little, and thought, “This isn’t spicy at all.” Then it hit me. I take back what I said. They are sweet and spicy and will be an excellent addition to my salad.

With our bag filled with goodies and our constitutions weakened by the heat, we left the market. I was so thrilled to see all the people that turned out today, despite the temperature and humidity. Maybe they had all heard the same piece of trivia that I had: according to the Leopold Center for Sustainable Agriculture, most fruits and vegetables sold at U.S. supermarkets travel an average of 1,500 miles from their source, whereas farmers’ market produce is usually sold less than 50 miles from where it’s grown. I know how wilted I am after a long trip, and I’m sturdier than an ear of corn or a tomato. I was a fan of the farmers’ market before reading that, and I’m even more devoted now. I’ll be heading over to Harrisburg on Monday, and I hope to see some of you there!

I Like Big Melons

2010-06-04T19:30:00.001-04:00

I ventured over the China Grove farmer’s market today with every intention of buying a cantaloupe. I’d gotten a slice last week, but opted not to buy a whole melon. Then I spent the rest of the week regretting my decision. The call of the cantaloupe prompted me to leave the air-conditioned sanctity of my home.

The China Grove farmer’s market is located in the parking lot of the roller mill museum in downtown China Grove. This market isn’t as organized as the Piedmont Farmer’s Market, but it draws a number of local producers, some I know and some I don’t, and has a very informal feel. Carla and Mark Whaley from Carla Anne’s Homestyle Cookies are there, as is Miller Produce and T&D Charolais, all of whom I know from the Piedmont market. I talked to one man who had a small selection of items on a card table. He said they bring whatever they have in excess so it doesn’t go to waste. I bought beets and lettuce from him, and I was tempted to buy some eggs as well. My tote bag was getting a little heavy by that point, so I opted against it.

In the end, I had quite a bounty, while only a small dent was made in my wallet. The final tally?

2 cantaloupes (one for today and one for Sunday) - $3
Tomato – 50 cents
Onion – 35 cents
Zucchini and squash - $1.15
Beets - $1
Lettuce - $1
Oatmeal cranberry cookie - $1.50

Total - $8.50

What did I make with all of this? I grated one beet (after washing and peeling), then tossed it with the lettuce and drizzled with the Stone House mustard vinaigrette I keep in my fridge. A little ground black pepper on top made for a fantastic salad. Hopefully Cackleberry Farms will be at the market tomorrow, and I can get more of their delicious feta. I’d like to have that to add to my beet salad.

I sliced half of the onion, then sauteed that in a little olive oil until the onion was soft. I added some minced garlic that I keep in my fridge, then threw in the zucchini and yellow squash, which I’d sliced into thick half-moons. Once they began to soften, I added the entire tomato, which I had diced, as well as some chopped rosemary that I’d gotten at the market a week ago. I let it cook down until the tomato was soft and the squash was crisp-tender. A little salt and pepper, and it was done. It was just that easy. And that good. The dish tasted so fresh; I was tempted to do like a woman I spoke with at the market and eat the whole lot of it in one sitting. It may look like a mess, but it was the best tasting dish I've had in weeks. And that includes restaurant meals.

I didn’t forget about dessert. I had half of the oatmeal cranberry cookie. It’s a big cookie, and I don’t have much of a sweet tooth anyway. My late night snack will be a bowl of cantaloupe chunks that I cut. I’ll probably end up eating the whole cantaloupe in one sitting. After all, it’s what drew me to the market in the first place.

Enchiladas in the Rain

2010-06-01T13:31:00.003-04:00

It was a dark and stormy night. Two hungry, wet travellers sought refuge from the rain. A sign beckoned. The place was brightly lit, yet empty. “Do we dare go in?” “I don’t know—it’s kinda creepy.” They had travelled this far, too far to turn away now. They went in…

Or rather, slid in. The rain was coming down in sheets when LA and I pulled up in front of El Campeon, one of Kannapolis’s newest Mexican restaurants. We were both sporting flip-flops, which are not known for their traction. LA nearly took a digger. I nearly peed my pants from laughing at him.

The only signs of life were the two staff members looking out the front door when we arrived, but they scurried back to the kitchen as we entered. The walls were bright yellow, made even brighter by the overhead fluorescent lighting. Metal wall art hung around the room, in an effort to make a strip mall restaurant feel more like a Mexican casa. The menu was small but had all of the heavy-hitters: tacos, burritos, enchiladas. According to the sign out front, El Campeon has all-you-can-eat tacos for $6.99 from 5-8pm. We studied the menu. The server asked if we were ready to order. Uhhhh, no. Give us a few minutes please. She made a circuit through the kitchen and back out. We still weren’t ready. LA was disappointed that there was no “cheese dip” on the menu. We were, however, both pleased with the salsa. Chunks of tomato and onion, plenty of cilantro.

LA, as usual, ordered a chicken quesadilla. I can always count on him for a thorough and eloquent description of the food. Is it good? Yes. Is it just chicken and cheese? Yes. I don’t suppose there is a lot more to be said about a chicken quesadilla. If there is, LA wasn’t saying it.

I, as usual, ordered the enchiladas rojas. The server asked if I wanted them “with everything”. I didn’t know what everything was, but I said yes anyway. A plate arrived with what I guessed contained my enchiladas. I was sure they were under there somewhere. The everything was lettuce, onion, sliced radish, Mexican crema, and queso fresco. I pushed all of that aside to get a look at the enchiladas themselves. I found four (!) enchiladas filled with chicken that had been simmered with onions. Rather than the typical enchilada sauce served by most Mexican restaurants, these were smothered in a spicy tomato gravy. Spicy may be an understatement. I actually noted “spicier than crap”. I forgot to mention that part when I told LA to try the sauce. I am a little bit of a spice wuss, so it may only be spicy to someone like me (or LA). Take a bite of enchiladas, take a drink of tea. That was my system. I went through a lot of tea. But the enchiladas were delicious. They came with the ubiquitous sides of beans and rice. The rice was fairly flavorless, or it may have been that my taste buds were seared off. The beans were from a can and very salty. I could do without the side dishes.

While we were eating, more patrons came in. One man ordered the all-you-can-eat tacos, and they definitely kept coming. No sides come with it, but I’d be happy with just the tacos and no salty beans or bland rice. For $6.99, it’s definitely a deal. When it was time to go, we asked the server for separate checks. She said “Of course” and walked away. Less than a minute later, she came back and asked if we wanted separate checks. We responded in the affirmative, and she said “Of course”. It was like déjà vu all over again.

I will definitely visit El Campeon again. The all-you-can-eat tacos are a great deal for dinner, as is the lunch buffet. I recommend it as a place to go with friends or family, but the ambience isn’t romantic, so it may not be the best option for a date. Unless that date loves tacos.

El Campeon is located at 900 Cloverleaf Plaza in Kannapolis.

We All Cheer for Cheerwine!

2010-05-31T15:06:00.004-04:00

After living in North Carolina for three years, I’m becoming familiar with some local specialties. I had enjoyed boiled peanuts in Florida and was thrilled to see them here as well. I love sweet tea. Thanks to Matt and Ted Lee for recommending Duke’s mayonnaise. Cherry Lemon Sun Drop took some time, but it too has grown on me. As has Cheerwine.

Cheerwine is a cherry-flavored soda that was first bottled in 1917. Rowan County, NC, has the highest consumption of Cheerwine. Since it’s a native of Rowan County, that’s really no surprise. I wouldn’t say that Cheerwine tastes like cherry soda. The flavor is hard to describe, so I will go with cherryesque. Once you get accustomed to it, it’s quite enjoyable. Since I live in Rowan County, I frequently run into items made with Cheerwine, most notably Cheerwine slush and Cheerwine cake. The best product that I’ve discovered, however, is the Cheerwine truffle.

Carla and Mark Whaley are the owners of Carla Anne’s Homestyle Cookies in Spencer, NC. After passing Mark and Carla’s booth at any number of the farmer’s markets I’ve been to, I stopped in. The Cheerwine truffles caught my eye. $3 for four truffles? That’s a steal. LA eyed them ominously, but took one anyway. The center of the truffle is a very moist red cake, almost like red velvet, but with the cherryesque flavor of Cheerwine. These are then coated with white or milk chocolate. I inhaled mine. Carla explained that she was asked to come up with the truffles and a barbecue cookie (I didn’t ask) for the Salisbury Rowan Cultural Arts Festival. Cheerwine syrup is purchased directly from the Carolina Bottling Company for the truffles, which gives it a stronger flavor than using a can of the soda. If you’re listening, Cheerwine, you should definitely endorse this product!

Carla and Mark moved here about a year ago from Modesto, CA. They had wanted to get their bakery up and running there, but, as anyone who’s ever met a Californian knows, California certainly loves the regulations. I’m glad they moved here. I wouldn’t have known the joy of the Cheerwine truffle otherwise!

Carla Anne’s sells a number of baked goods, as well, such as cookies, brownies, and cupcakes. I’ve had the chocolate chip cookie. It’s moist, as a good chocolate chip cookie should be. Carla and Mark attend all of the markets in the area—Kannapolis, Winecoff School Rd, China Grove, and Salisbury, and they have a schedule on their website. You actually have to try not to run into them somewhere. You can’t miss their booth—they have a giant banner that says Carla Anne’s. They also have samples of some the cookies and brownies. Definitely buy some of the truffles. If you’re not a fan of Cheerwine now, you will be after you’ve eaten just one of the truffles.

P.S. The Cheerwine website is awesome.

I'm Hot

2010-05-30T19:46:00.001-04:00

The theme of Thursday’s farmer’s market in Kannapolis? I’m Hot. That was the conversation heard between all vendors and customers. “How are you doing today?” “I’m hot.” I was wishing that I had a pith helmet with a fan in the brim. Or a spray bottle with the little fan attached. Maybe even an umbrella hat. Anything to provide a smidgen of relief from the day’s heat. I shouldn’t complain. The vendors had to sit out in the heat for three hours. I was only there for 20 minutes.

I had been dreaming of potato salad, so I bought some white creamer potatoes. I’ll admit I picked out some of the smallest ones. I am intrigued by tiny potatoes. I later boiled the potatoes whole, then halved or quartered them (depending on the size) and tossed them with the Stone House mustard vinaigrette while they were still hot. Potatoes absorb more flavor when they’re hot than when they’re cold. After they had cooled, I mixed some Duke’s mayonnaise (my favorite) with a little Stone House mustard and tossed the potatoes in it. I had to restrain myself so I wouldn’t eat the whole bowl right then and there.

After talking to Todd from T&D Charolais on several occasions, I decided it was time to try some of his products. I’m on a budget, but I wanted something that I could eat unadorned (unlike stew meat), so I bought hamburger patties. I wanted to taste the beef and not all of the other ingredients in a stew. I’m not a fan of the hamburger bun, so I had my burger on toast. My burger actually tasted like beef! It’s easy to forget what beef is supposed to taste like when all you’ve eaten in years is shipped-in, hormonal industrial beef from who knows where. Todd’s beef is all-natural and raised on a ranch in China Grove. I won’t be buying any more beef from the supermarket. Todd’s beef may be a little more expensive, but it’s worth it. And the price difference isn’t that much anyway.

I also decided it was time to procure one of Darryl’s silverware items. The blade of a hollow-handled dinner knife was cut off, leaving the handle much like a bud vase. Then a pin was attached to the back. I bought this for my bag. Maybe I’ll put a flower in it, maybe I won’t. Either way, the pin is unique and I love it. Darryl had made it on request, but the customer never returned, so I got it. It’s one-of-a-kind. Just like me.

I also spent several minutes talking to Joanie, of Ohana Favorites. Joanie makes the apricot mango red pepper jelly that I love. LA has nearly finished the apple butter that he purchased from her. I’ve sampled a few of her other jellies as well. One of the best that I’ve tasted is the lavender chamomile jelly. I don’t care for lavender or chamomile, but the combination works. Joanie also sells cookies and brownie bits. For 50¢, I got a tropical cookie that was made with oatmeal and chopped tropical fruit. It was very sweet, so I didn’t finish it all. The chocolate chip cookies were less expensive, but I was quite happy with my 50¢ purchase. I have a jar of dried tropical fruit, so I may attempt some similar cookies in the near future. Joanie has other products as well, including vegetables and grains, such as quinoa.

While the Kannapolis market is smaller than some of its other counterparts, I still see several familiar faces. Plus it’s closer to my house. While it may not be as close as my local supermarket, I will happily travel the extra distance every Thursday for the rest of the summer to buy what I can. I just need a dairy farmer to turn up!

Proud to be a Kannapple

2010-05-26T19:40:00.001-04:00

Kannapolite? Kannapolitan? How about Kannapple? From all the options available to call myself as a resident of Kannapolis, I think Kannapple is my favorite. It reminds me of Snapple. Who doesn’t love Snapple? It’s made from the best stuff on Earth. It’s a fitting tribute.

I moved to Kannapolis less than a year ago, after a decade spent in “the big city”. The rent was cheap and the commute to work was short. The decision made itself. Having been raised in both small and miniscule towns, before moving to the big city, I was ready to feel like part of a community again. The day after I moved in, one neighbor brought me tomatoes from his garden. No one in the cities had done that. Another worked out an arrangement with me to mow the lawn. How neighborly. (I can actually hear her mowing as I type this.) A statement that I’ve heard many times since moving here is that no one uses their turn signal when driving, because everyone knows where they’re going. I think that may be true. I don’t bother anymore.

The downside of a small town is that everyone knows your business. Or what they think is your business. Kannapolis is big enough that it isn’t a problem. But I was determined to feel like a local. My accent alone sets me apart, but I was hoping to be adopted by the community. Once LA signed on as my roommate, we were determined to become “regulars” somewhere. Turns out, that’s easier than we expected.

Due to its proximity, we chose the North 29 Grill as our regular spot. The North 29 Grill is known to many locals by its former name, The Humdinger. That explains why one of their menu items is a burger named The Humdinger. And a humdinger it is. It’s one of our favorites. After a few visits, we were asked our names. A few visits later, our names were remembered and used whenever we arrived. We no longer had to order drinks, as those turned up when we walked in. The food is not fancy, just burgers, salads, fried items. But we love it. It doesn’t hurt that the cook, LB, is so easy on the eyes. The head waitress, Miss Tammy, is our favorite. She once threatened bodily harm to LA if she turned up in one of his videos. LA and I are both far from our families, so a visit to the North 29 Grill is like a visit with an adopted family. And like family, they accept us as crazy as we are.

I didn’t plan on becoming a regular at Acapulco Tacqueria. That happened quite accidentally. Acapulco is in a former fast food joint, and it still has the drive-thru window, plus menu items listed all over the windows. The building next door is a decrepit laundromat. Overall, it’s not much to look at. I wanted authentic Mexican tacos, not the Taco Bell variety. Acapulco has an extensive menu, with your run-of-the-mill Mexican food, as well as the variety less common north of the border. We learned very early on that we don’t like the mole sauce there, but everything else has been good. They have barbacoa on the menu, which I often order. The waitress that we most often get doesn’t speak English, so she will then get an English-speaking waitress to explain to me that they don’t have the beef barbacoa, they only have lamb. The first time I got the speech, I responded that I was fine with that. I was then interrogated. “Lamb. Are you sure? Lamb?” It was delicious. I have recommended it to others, but they always opt for something a little more ordinary. LA and I have gone several times and have even taken another friend with us on occasion. We are always seated in the same booth. One day, I decided to go by myself. When I walked in, the waitress gave me a funny look and said, “Just you?” Yes, just me. No crazy-looking sidekick today!

Now that I have more free time on my hands, I can (and do) visit the farmer’s market as often as possible. I find that the people we meet there are all strong believers in community. I had visited the Winecoff School Rd. farmer’s market once before I moved to Kannapolis, but it was too long of a drive to make regularly. The farmer’s market nearest me at that time was only open when I was at work. I read articles in many food magazines about the wonders of the farmer’s market, and I wished I had more opportunity to go. I’m now making up for lost time. The food magazines all focus on the food that’s available at the market. I go less for the food and more for the people. Everyone there has a passion, whether it’s for growing vegetables, raising cattle, or making jewelry out of spoons. I feel like I’m among brethren when I’m there. That’s a great feeling.

A friend who was raised in Kannapolis told me recently that I know a lot more about Kannapolis and what’s here than she does. Would you like to know where the lingerie store is? How about the pest control building with the giant cockroaches painted on the side? Are you interested in a bust of Thomas Edison? Or the salon with an arrow labelled “Tanning” that points to an empty field? I can even point you in the direction of a bruja. All it takes is an open mind and a willingness to leave the house. The rest takes care of itself. And when it does, you, like me, will be proud to be a Kannapple!

The North 29 Grill is located at 2800 N. Cannon Blvd. Acapulco Restaurante y Taqueria is located at 530 S. Cannon Blvd. at the corner of Cannon and Fairview.

Old Stone Vino is the Place to Be

2010-05-25T23:18:00.002-04:00

Kannapolis has a lot of restaurants, but very few qualify as the “nice” restaurant, or the one you go to for special occasions. A couple of those are only open on the weekends. Where to go when you want a nice lunch or dinner, but don’t feel like going to a chain? Old Stone Vino. Old Stone Vino is in a stonefront house, sitting next to the train tracks. The house was being remodeled when I first came to town, opening a few months later. It would still be a few months after that before I finally decided to check it out.

Old Stone Vino has a beautiful stone stairway leading to the front door, but they have decided not to make use of it. To get to the door requires a long walk up a wooden ramp from the parking lot. I was actually a bit confused when I initially went, since there is another wooden stairway next to the ramp. I haven’t yet figured out where it leads. The beautiful stone stairway is blocked by either a piece of fabric or a patio table. Either way, it’s confusing.

While the stonework on the outside seems to be new, the same thing can only be said for the paint in the interior. In a style typical of older homes, the house is sectioned into many small rooms, each with two doorways. If the doorframes and some other architectural details were not original, the restorer did a fine job. Along with the new paint are some new light fixtures and molding. All the chairs and tables are black wood. Each dining room houses 2 to 3 tables, and all rooms are painted a different color. The effect is not jarring; rather, the colors work well to separate all rooms while providing a unified feel. Patrons are spread out amongst the rooms, which means that you may have a dining room all to yourself. I quite like this. Lunch feels like an intimate affair, and yelling is not required when communicating with your dining companion. Chain restaurants could learn something from Old Stone Vino.

Our first visit was to celebrate LA’s birthday. Old Stone Vino offered an all-you-can-eat lunch menu, with options including salads, soup, and sandwiches. LA and I each started with creamy tomato basil soup, with a spinach salad. The soup tasted like smooth tomato cream sauce, but more subtle. The woman at the table behind us told her friend that she goes there for the soup alone. LA didn’t care for it, but I did, although I wouldn’t go there solely for that soup. Our salad was composed of spinach, red onion, blue cheese, candied pecans, slices of Granny Smith apple, and an apple cider vinaigrette. Never one to enjoy the flavor of a raw onion, I picked all of them out. LA, being smarter than me, asked for his without the onions. While we both enjoyed the salad, the cook was more generous with LA’s than with mine. He got more apples, more pecans, and more blue cheese. In both cases, the cook was a bit heavy-handed with the vinaigrette. Next we both had a steak panini with carmelized onions. The steak was tender, with the sweetness of the onions making for a delicious sandwich. For a side, we both had the macaroni and cheese. When ordering Old Stone Vino’s mac and cheese, you are given the option of the type of cheese you want for it. The macaroni was cooked in a cream sauce, then topped with your selected cheese and baked before being brought out. LA got his with mozzarella, which I felt was too mild. I could feel the cheese but was unable to taste it. He enjoyed it, and that’s what matters. Mine came topped with melted cheddar, for a much more flavorful dish. While both were good, they were also greasier than I would have preferred.

Old Stone Vino recently changed their menu. We gave them a week to work out the kinks, then went for our second visit. Our first visit had been on a busy weekday, but our second visit was quieter. Our server was very friendly, if not a little too forthcoming. Gone was the all-you-can-eat lunch. The waitress explained that it had been very good for the customers, but was not “cost-effective” for the kitchen. Fair enough. We started with the warm artichoke dip, served with flatbread. The dip was a mix of spinach and artichoke hearts, with tangy goat cheese, topped with mozzarella and diced tomatoes. I felt that it needed a bit of pepper to offset the tanginess, but LA disagreed. Although we loaded up each piece of flatbread with dip, we still ran out of bread with a good deal of dip left in the dish. I asked if we could get more bread, and the waitress replied that it was $1, since giving it away wasn’t “cost-effective”. There’s that word again. I let her know that we would make do without additional bread. Old Stone Vino has the creamy tomato basil soup on the menu every day, plus they have a “soup du jour” listed as well. This always reminds me of the truckstop scene in Dumb and Dumber, but I try not to go through that scenario with every service person I encounter. Both times we have been to Old Stone Vino, we’ve been informed that they only have the tomato soup. Maybe this was my lucky day. The server advised me that the chef was making lobster bisque, but she didn’t know how long it would take to be ready. I ordered a club sandwich with a side of soup. Lobster bisque if it was ready, or tomato basil if it wasn’t. It was ready! The club sandwich arrived on three slices of country bread, with thick-sliced roasted ham and turkey, bacon, lettuce, Roma tomato, and pesto mayonnaise. The menu said the sandwich was made with garlic mayonnaise, but I wasn’t going to send the sandwich back to the kitchen because the mayo was wrong. I happen to like pesto mayo. The sandwich was difficult to eat because a) it was huge, and b) the crust was so crisp that I couldn’t bite through it. Not a sandwich to get if you’re there on a first date. If it’s not your first date, go ahead and order it. Just plan on taking part of it home, as I did. The lobster bisque was a light coral color, drizzled with parsley oil. It had a subtle lobster flavor, with a creamy texture interrupted by small pieces of tomato. I offered a taste of the soup to LA, but he opted not to risk impending death by ingesting shellfish.

LA ordered a vegetable flatbread pizza. Before I could even snap a photo, he had a piece of the pizza in his mouth. When I asked for a description, I got “mmmmmm”, which was then amended to “very light, very tasty”. The pizza was fully loaded with spinach, tomatoes, red pepper, onions, and mozzarella cheese. The new lunch menu is considerably larger than its predecessor, with the inclusion of the pizzas and an expanded salad selection. Apparently the chef loves onions—regardless of the type of salad you order, it will have onions on it. The good news is that the menu states that so people like me can order it without the onions. LA also felt it very important that I mention the decorative jar of lemon slices sitting on the windowsill. He was quite obsessed and told me several times to include that. So, for LA: we noticed a decorative jar of lemon slices sitting on the windowsill.

I believe that the restrooms can say a lot about a place. They are easily overlooked, but very important to me. The restrooms at Old Stone Vino were well-maintained and clean, although the men’s was out of paper towels. There was even a choice of hand sanitizer and hand lotion that looked remarkably like mayonnaise. I asked our server if they had recently gotten a new chef, which may have accounted for the menu change. She said that Brandon Turner became chef a few weeks ago and had been working on the menu since. Making it more cost-effective, I’m sure. So far, I’m impressed. My next visit will be for dinner, since they offer free wine-tastings on Tuesdays and live music on the weekends. While Old Stone Vino is out of my current budget on a regular basis, I like knowing that Kannapolis has a good restaurant where I can go when I want to feel like a grown-up.

Old Stone Vino Bistro & Wine Bar is located at 515 S. Main St. in Kannapolis.

The Best Mustard Makes the Best Vinaigrette

2010-05-24T16:51:00.002-04:00

I have been cooking since I was 9 years old, when I joined my local 4-H chapter. I am professionally trained. But I start to sweat when I am asked to come up with a recipe. It’s not that I don’t have the ability to do so. I am just not a measurer. When explaining to someone how to make one of my dishes, it usually goes something like, “Dump in this until it looks the way you think it should. Add some of that. If it doesn’t taste right, add some more.” It has worked well for me so far. Until I am asked for the recipe.

I was asked to provide a recipe for a vinaigrette using the Stone House Mustard, about which I am always raving. And I did it! I devised a recipe for the vinaigrette that I would be proud to offer to others or with which to have my name associated. When making a vinaigrette (or anything, really) for my own private comsumption, I rarely follow standard vinaigrette measurements, which means using far less oil than what others before me have dictated. Since this recipe was for the sake of the general public, I opted to be slightly less radical. If you’re a vinaigrette purist, do not send me nasty emails about how the ratio of mustard is off, as the whole point is for some of the spotlight to be on the mustard. Please also bear in mind that this recipe was formulated specifically for the Stone House Mustard. If you make it with a different mustard, start with less. If you use a spicy brown mustard or Dijon mustard, you may also want to add a bit of sugar to tame it. The Stone House Mustard is sweet, with a hint of spiciness, which is why I didn’t add any sugar to this recipe. And, if you make this with a mustard other than Stone House and don’t care for it, you have only yourself to blame.

Stone House Mustard Vinaigrette
Makes about 1 ½ cups

1/3 cup apple cider vinegar
1 shallot, minced
2 tbsp Stone House Mustard
½ teaspon salt
¼ teaspoon ground black pepper
1 cup light-flavored oil, such as canola or grapeseed oil

Combine all ingredients except for the oil in a bowl, stirring until the mustard dissolves. Whisking constantly, slowly pour in the oil. If the vinaigrette separates, whisk it to emulsify.

One of my recommended uses for the vinaigrette is to serve it with spinach, sliced apples or pears, candied walnuts, and blue cheese. That’s actually the salad that prompted the recipe. I like to keep a batch of the vinaigrette in a jar in the fridge. When it’s time for a salad, I give the jar a good shake to combine all the ingredients, then pour over the salad. It will easily keep for a month, which means always having dressing on hand.

Banana Ketchup Makes Food Tasty!

2010-05-23T14:22:00.003-04:00

One cold, rainy day late last November, LA decided that he was tired of sleeping on the floor and waking up with carpet bits in his hair. He was ready to buy a bed. A stop at a local furniture store secured him one bed, to be delivered the following day. As we walked out of the furniture store, I mentioned running across the street to the “Oriental Market”. Initially, we were unable to get in and thought the door was locked. A woman let us in and told us that the door was sticking. We sadly discovered that Ventiane Oriental Market was in its last few weeks of business. The shelves were on the barren side. Towards the back, near the freezers that were no longer running, was a large wooden table filled with ketchup bottles. We picked up a bottle, labelled “banana ketchup”. LA made a face. I had read somewhere a year or two before about banana ketchup and its deliciousness. To LA’s horror and dismay, I bought a bottle. We walked out into the rain, where I immediately opened the bottle and stuck in a finger. I wanted to try it. It was delicious. Full of doubt, LA did the same. We walked right back in (after a brief fight with the door) and each bought another bottle.

Although we had tacos for lunch, we ordered a side of fries as a testing ground for the ketchup. French fries had never tasted so good. The meatloaf I made using the hot and regular varieties of banana ketchup garnered a marriage proposal from LA. While I did turn down the proposal, I was able to appreciate the sentiment. It was that good. A friend recently stopped by with a fast food lunch and asked if I had any ketchup. Regular ketchup. He doesn’t know what he’s missing.

If you give someone banana ketchup and ask them to describe the taste, you will invariably hear, “I dunno. Weird barbecue sauce?” Weird barbecue sauce perhaps, but also the best culinary discovery that I had made in quite some time. Banana ketchup is brownish in color, unless dyed red to look like tomato ketchup, and very similar to barbecue sauce in that respect. The consistency also isn't as smooth. As the name implies, banana ketchup in made with bananas instead of tomatoes. Banana ketchup does not taste like bananas, and you would be hard-pressed to identify any banana flavor at all. Even the taste more resembles barbecue sauce than tomato ketchup. Banana ketchup is a bit sweeter and less acidic and vinegary than its tomato counterpart. Many varieties include no vinegar at all, unlike tomato ketchup.

I felt I needed to do a bit of research on the banana ketchup. Where did it come from, and why had I never had it before? Turns out, banana ketchup, or banana sauce, is the #1 condiment in the Phillippines. The Filipinos are really on to something! They put it on spaghetti and pizza—uses that Americans would traditionally give to tomato sauce. LA decided to try it on noodles and declared it a winner. I prefer the more traditional American roles of French fry partner and meatloaf assistant. I may also be hesitant to use it on pizza or spaghetti because I am running low, and it is not as easily acquired now that Ventiane has closed. The most readily available brands of banana ketchup are Baron and Jufran. Jufran is owned by the H.J. Heinz company, which could mean banana ketchup turning up in more traditional outlets in the U.S. than just Asian markets. Baron is a St. Lucian company. A visit to their website begins with calypso music and lyrics devoted to their variey of products, including tomato and banana ketchups and mango chutney. You’ll be singing the song for hours. Both brands are available on Amazon. Another option for the truly adventurous is to make your own banana ketchup. Recipes abound and can easily be found by doing an internet search of “banana ketchup recipe”. I haven’t made any of these yet, although I’m sure I will be before too long. My bottle is almost empty, and I don’t want to envision a future without banana ketchup.

I Can't Hear You Over the Farmer's Market

2010-05-20T20:01:00.001-04:00

80 degrees. Sunny. Low humidity. Slight breeze. Put all of these things together, and you get a fantastic day to go to the farmer’s market. The NC Research Campus farmer’s market opened today, although the name is a bit misleading. It has typically been held on the Research Campus, but this year has moved to a parking lot on Main St. across the street from the Kannapolis train station. LA would be riding the bus from his house, so I was to meet him at the bus stop/train station. Since it was such a lovely day, I decided to go to the market a little early. I drove around Cannon Village, looking for the best parking spot, and I saw a firetruck pulled up in front of the storefronts, taking up several spaces. Maybe someone was hurt or one of the empty locations was ablaze. Fortunately, the fireman had just stopped for some ice cream. It really was a good day for it. I went through the antique store, sat at the bus stop and played Sudoku, then finally decided that I’d been stood up. So I went to the farmer’s market alone.

The market was small, with about 10 vendors, many of whom I recognized from Saturdays on Winecoff School Rd. Darryl Mall was there with his silverware and sculptures, so I took a few more photos of his smaller pieces. Only the larger pieces are shown on his website, and I would like everyone to see how cool his jewelry and smaller pieces are. We did talk a little about his background, as Darryl’s dad is from Boulder, CO. Small world!

The NCRC market even has live music! I didn’t realize this until I was in the middle of a conversation with Darryl, and suddenly I couldn’t hear him over the singing.

Three local bakeries were represented, all offering some handsome goodies. I was highly tempted, but I did not succumb! The jellymaker was there, with her small jars of unusual jellies. She was doing a good business, so I didn’t talk to her today. I’ll have many more opportunities and will be profiling her in an upcoming post.

I stopped and talked to Todd Mauldin of T&D Charolais and stated that he owes me an email! He promised that he would send me additional information about his farm, the history, and their products. I’ll be posting that as soon as possible. We talked a little about the ability to get almost everything you could possibly need at the farmer’s market and my hopes to get all of you readers out of your seats and up to a market ASAP. Seriously, guys, what’s the hold up? You see that I’m meeting some great people, finding some fantastic food, hearing live music. And you don’t even have to pay an entrance fee. I also encourage people to take their kids. We are getting further and further away from our food sources, so I feel it’s very important that our kids understand where food comes from and what it tastes like when it’s grown with love.

Papillon? No, That Was About a Prison Break

2010-05-19T20:29:00.001-04:00

I was expecting a dinner guest this evening, which meant that I had to put a bit more than the usual effort into my offerings. “Welcome to my home. Would you like some Pasta-Roni?” would more than likely ensure that the dinner guest did not return. That wasn’t the desired outcome, so I worked up another option. In all honesty, I had an idea in my head in the event of an unexpected visitor. All I had to do was make it. Some of the items in my pantry had been beckoning me—“Make something delicious out of me. I don’t like collecting dust.” Of course, I had been offering excuses to them about why they needed to be patient. They were special and would be eaten when the unattractive items were gone. But a dinner guest deserves something better. Something that looks like I slaved over the meal for hours on end, gently coaxing out flavors and perfecting the presentation. This was a job for Mediterranean Chicken en Papillote!

I love the idea of cooking en papillote, which is French for "in a packet". A big, golden, delicious-smelling packet is brought to the table, with each diner tearing it open to see what magnificence awaits inside. Cooking en papillote is usually done with parchment paper, although aluminum foil is a very common substitute. I have an industrial-sized box of parchment paper, so I use that whenever possible. The beauty of cooking anything in a packet is that clean-up is so easy. All you really need is a baking sheet to hold the packets. Everything cooks in the paper, and you just throw that away at the end of the meal. Food cooked en papillote is also healthier. Enough oil is needed to prevent your protein from sticking to the paper, but the selected foods just steam inside their packet. Very low-fat! The downside to cooking anything in a packet is that you don’t have the ability to check for doneness. It really is a test of faith. If you undershoot it, you have to wrap everything back up and continue cooking. The other possibility is overcooked food. This may not be a problem if you’re cooking only vegetables, but no one wants to end up with dry and rubbery chicken or fish.

My guest was a no-show, but I decided to proceed with the meal. I had been planning dinner in my head for the last 24 hours, and I wasn’t going to miss out simply because I’d be dining alone. I would like to take a moment to congratulate myself on this being a true escapade. Everything was already in my fridge, freezer, or pantry; I didn’t buy a single ingredient for use specifically in this dish. Since this is another pantry meal, I can’t give measurements. Everything is just a guideline for making your own. I eyeballed it to give me a good meat/veg ratio, but you may want to omit or double some of the items. Other herbs, seasonings, flavoring liquids may also be added. Knock yourself out! I wanted to include oregano, but I discovered that I didn’t have any. I guess Herbes de Provence would be an acceptable substitute. That didn’t come to me until after I had scarfed down the chicken, and that was just a hair too late. I know you’re thinking that I should just get on with the ingredient list, instead of rambling on and making you wait. If you’ve never made the parchment packet, you can find step-by-step directions here.

Mediterranean Chicken en Papillote

1 4-6oz boneless, skinless chicken breast half
Marinated artichoke hearts, drained
Roasted red pepper, from a can or jar, drained
Diced tomato (mine was from a can)
Olive tapenade (I used Deb’s tapenade)
Salt and pepper to taste, plus any dried or fresh herbs that you desire
Oil, for the parchment paper

Preheat the oven to 450° F. Using the parchment paper heart or prepared foil, oil just enough so that the food won’t stick. Near the crease, place the artichoke hearts, red pepper and tomato on the parchment. Top with the chicken. Season with salt and pepper, then dollop olive tapenade on top. Fold in the edges of the parchment to completely seal the packet. Fold the end piece of the parchment under the packet. Place the packet on a baking sheet, and bake for 18-20 minutes, until the parchment is puffed up and brown. If you are cooking fish, it only takes 5-8 minutes in a 425° oven. Easy peasy.

I still have chicken and fish in the freezer, so I have the feeling that I will be seeing this dish or a similar one again in the coming weeks. You probably figured this out already, but cooking en papillote really is great for entertaining. All the prep work can be done in advance. Just pop the packets, already on the baking sheet, into the refrigerator, then bake when your guests arrive. They will marvel at your skill and genius as you bring the packets to the table, the smell wafting from them, taunting them with the mysteries that lie within. You don’t have to tell them that it was the easiest thing you’ve ever made. Just revel in the glory.

The Copper Ran Away with the Spoon

2010-05-18T21:36:00.005-04:00

Today was the opening day of the Tuesday edition of the Winecoff School Rd farmer’s market. It was a cool day, so LA and I decided to walk from his apartment. We went through mud and knee-high weeds, got barked at by several large dogs, crossed over the interstate, and stepped over a few dead snakes and squirrels. The market itself was not nearly so adventurous. Only 10 or so vendors had come, and they still greatly outnumbered the customers. I would like to believe that it was due to the earliness of the hour, as we were there around 4:30, when many people are still at work. Unless you are unemployed like we are and can be there when the gates open. Deb from Deborah’s Kitchen Kreations was there, and this time I did cheat and buy some of her olive tapenade. I also bought some delightful strawberries. I love the concept of strawberries, but I usually find them to be sour. Ever the optimist, I continue buying them in the hopes that I will find good ones. The local, homegrown ones I got today are small, sweet and very juicy. I told the grower that I was going to make sorbet with them, and she asked me what that was. While I was still formulating an answer, she asked if it’s like sherbet. Yes, yes it is.

One vendor there isn’t a grower, a farmer, or a cook, but I like to think his items are still food-related. His name is Darryl Mall, and he makes cool jewelry and household items from spare copper and old silverware. Darryl worked in the construction business for many years and saw all of the scrap copper that was being thrown away. He decided to salvage this and began making pot racks and pot hooks out of this copper. One day, his wife, who is an avid garage-saler, brought home some old silverware. New products were born. Initially Darryl was making jewelry with the silverware, using only the handles, for watches and bracelets. This left him with tops from the many forks and spoons that he’d used. With these, he began making necklaces, napkin rings, and garden sculptures. Darryl’s items are definitely unique. He brings many of his smaller items, such as jewelry, pot hooks, and winestoppers, to the farmer’s market, as well as some of the smaller sculptures. Scrap copper is no longer discarded in the way that it was when Darryl first began 30 years ago, but he uses his contacts from the construction industry to buy copper bits at the same price that the recycling companies pay.

Many people are concerned these days about their carbon footprint, the use of fossil fuels, and recycling. When copper is recycled in a facility, a considerable amount of energy is used. Darryl is recycling the same copper, but in a much more eco-friendly way. His sculptures are far more interesting and aesthetically-pleasing than your typical piece of copper pipe. We saw flowers that included door knobs found at garage sales. Darryl’s items are made using predominately reclaimed or recycled products, which appeals to many people, including me. While you can buy larger pieces on Darryl’s website or through his ebay store, many of the smaller items are only available in his booth at one of the many markets he attends. His items are reasonably priced and impressive in their uniqueness. If you are looking for an unusual gift for a foodie, or someone who seems to have everything, I recommend a visit with Darryl. While you might go for the items, take a moment to talk to Darryl about his hobby. It’s worth it.

Darryl attends the Winecoff School Rd market on Saturdays and Tuesdays, the Harrisburg market on Mondays, and the NC Research Campus market on Thursdays. Plus you can view his wine racks, pot racks, and other large items on his website or his ebay store. With that availability, there’s no reason for you not to give it a look.

With the limited number of vendors and customers, we had an easier time seeing everything that was available and talking to sellers. One vendor had small jars of a large variety of jellies. Some of the jellies were pretty standard, such as mint and apricot. Others, such as dill and lavender, were not. LA bought rose jelly, of which I am quite fond, and apple butter, of which I am not. Being the more adventurous of the two, I bought apricot mango pepper jelly. For the sake of impartiality, I did taste the apple butter. While I don’t care for apple butter, I am quite familiar with it, as my mother is a fan and always had a jar in the house. To me, this apple butter tasted the same as all of the other apple butters that I have ever had. No better, no worse. The rose jelly was a bit tasteless, but it may be different eaten on something other than the end of a spoon. Vince had brought back rose petal jelly from France and given the nearly-full jar to me when he moved from Colorado to Florida. I doubt if any rose jelly will ever surpass that one in my mind, so I may be judging LA’s newly-purchased rose jelly unfairly. We also tasted my apricot mango pepper jelly, making sure that we didn’t get any of the red pepper flakes floating on top in our spoonful. The apricot was the dominant flavor, but the mango was detectable. The pepper flakes didn’t impart any flavor, but they did give the jelly a heat that toned down any sweetness. I was quite pleased with my purchase. The jelly-maker (jellier?) will also be featured in an upcoming post. Until that time, if you have a desire for some uncommon jellies, you will have to go to the farmer’s market and find them.

Maybe I am a food nerd, but I find having the ability to meet with the people growing or making my food to be much more satisfying than a trip to the nameless, faceless supermarket. At the farmer’s market, I have met Deb, Todd, and Darryl, and I will be meeting many more throughout the summer. I recommend going to your nearest market and taking the time to speak to some of the people. They have a lot of interesting stories to tell, and the food’s not bad either.

At Least It's Not Casserole of Meat

2010-05-17T20:58:00.003-04:00

What do you get when you cross a chicken pot pie with a shepherd’s pie? Answer: my dinner. The second week of the escapades is coming to a close, and I’m already beginning to run out of creativity and imagination to turn my questionable options into gourmet fare. I could’ve eaten a can of black-eyed peas. Just by itself. But where’s the fun in that? I’m sure no one would want to read about that. I have a cookbook that was given to me by my grandmother, and it includes such post-War classics as “Casserole of Meat”. I’m hardly down to the dregs of my pantry, but I’m getting very bored with what’s available. This is why I made tonight’s version of Casserole of Meat. Or, as I like to call it, a Salute to the Freezer. I heated some of my frozen diced chicken, tossed in some frozen peas and frozen mixed vegetables, added half a can of cream of chicken soup, then topped it all with leftover instant mashed potatoes and baked it until bubbly. As odd as it was, my Salute to the Freezer was better than some restaurant meals that I’ve had. I still have half a vat of minestrone in my refrigerator, so I am loathe to make another dish that will involve a week’s worth of leftovers. Instead, I made a single serving of chicken pot-herd’s pie.

When I started the escapades two weeks ago (!), I thought this would be a lot easier. I said to myself, “I have such a variety in my pantry that I can have something new all the time, I won’t get tired of it, and it will go quickly.” Ha! Who was I kidding? LA was in the same predicament , in that he and I had purchased many of our packaged meals at the same time. He told me over the weekend that he couldn’t stand another boxed meal. Last night, my dinner was Apple Jacks. I did have milk with them, but that still constituted my dinner. It was a welcome change from what I typically consume. I felt like I might actually be intaking vitamins.

I have worked very hard up to this point to stick with my escapades. I resist temptation whenever possible. In the checkout line at the supermarket, LA was eyeing a box of julienne potatoes, and I ordered him to step away. For the sake of our sanity, if not our health, we cannot go down the path of the boxed food again! We must take the road less travelled, for it will make all the difference! My Salute to the Freezer was a welcome break in the monotony of dried starch. Ok, it did have the potatoes on top, but they were remnants of the last package, so I won’t have to eat those again! As determined as I believed myself to be at the beginning of the escapades, I am starting to reconsider. Two additional farmer’s markets will be opening this week. I don’t know that I’ll be able to handle three days of seeing and smelling fresh fruits and vegetables only to come home to Kraft dinner. I want to stay strong. I want to succeed. I want to eat something that tastes good! I think this may be a losing battle. To my credit, I am eating at home much more often and saving money. So I guess I’m still winning. I may lose the battle of the pantry, but I still win, because I will be eating foods that are fresh, delicious, and, best of all, homemade.

FYI, the Piedmont Farmer’s Market on Winecoff School Rd. will now be open on Tuesdays from 4-7pm, as well as Saturday morning. The NC Research Campus Farmer’s Market begins this week and will be held on Thursdays from 4-7pm, across from the Kannapolis train station. I’ll be on Winecoff School Rd. tomorrow night. Tomorrow’s post will be full of photos and I will regale you with stories of fresh produce. It should be a much more interesting post. A bientot!

Amigos Siempre?

2010-05-16T16:18:00.002-04:00

I am a Mexican food addict. I could eat Mexican food every day and never tire of it. Authentic Mexican, Tex-Mex, burrito places. I love it all. Southern Colorado, where I grew up, has a very large Hispanic population, and Mexican restaurants abound. My fondness for Mexican food started early, when my parents would take me to La Cocina. I remember La Cocina being a very 1970’s restaurant, with carpeting and old sewing machine cabinets for tables. I also remember the sopapillas. Pillowy squares of dough, served straight from the fryer, with honey to pour inside them. If I do make it to Heaven, I hope it’s just like La Cocina. 70’s décor and all.

El Amigo is the “#1 Mexican restaurant in Kannapolis”, and they have the newspaper clippings to prove it. Why would I not want to eat there? They must have some spectacular food! I know I have high expectations—rice and beans are the first foods I remember eating (unless you count the lollipop that I had at my parents’ wedding). I try to put all of this aside and gauge the food on its own merit. Our visit on Saturday marked the second time that I’ve been to El Amigo. They seem to do a healthy business. I go past El Amigo regularly and have never seen an empty parking lot, even in the middle of the day. That’s a good sign! As always, my trusty sidekick, LA, was with me. I don’t remember the food from our first visit. It was good enough, but nothing stood out. What we both remember is LA taking a drink of his iced tea and our waiter snatching it out of his hand in order to refill it. When we left, the waiter waved and called out, “Good-bye, amigos!” Tea-snatching aside, it was good experience and we enjoyed being considered amigos.

El Amigo provides a comfortable and fun atmosphere, with murals and architectural details to remind you that you are in a Mexican restaurant. As soon as you are seated, the chips and salsa arrive. Our chips were still hot from the fryer. The salsa tastes similar to that at most other Mexican restaurants. My theory holds that there is only one salsa recipe and all Mexican restaurants share it. I ordered the queso fundido to get us started. In my heart, I know that I need to allow the queso to sit a few minutes to cool down enough so that it doesn’t run straight off the chip, but my mind refuses to acknowledge this information. LA and I both dug into it as though we hadn’t eaten in days and promptly dripped queso fundido everywhere. I’ve seen multiple recipes for queso fundido, involving fresh chiles, various cheeses, or no sausage. My personal favorite is the type served at El Amigo: a bowl of melted Mexican cheese, brimming with chorizo, with a layer of copper-colored grease floating on top. You can feel your arteries clogging a little more with each bite, but it is too good to stop. El Amigo’s was a bit salty, which I ascribe to the chorizo used. LA’s first bite garnered the comment, “It tastes like pepperoni gravy. Don’t ask.” I heeded the advice, although I was secretly curious about the pepperoni gravy experiment.

After only a few dips, even before the queso was allowed time to reach the optimum consistency, our entrees arrived. I prefer having a bit more time between appetizer and entrée, but I will always pick food arriving too soon over having to wait for it. LA was insistent upon ordering a quesadilla, but when asked by the waiter what he wanted, he ordered chicken enchiladas. He got two enchiladas in a “ranchero” sauce, with refried beans and rice on the side. The ranchero sauce is a red sauce more commonly known to gringos like you and me as “enchilada sauce”. I didn’t give it much thought until he asked me if I wanted a bite, warning me that they were “bland”. These were cheese enchiladas that were topped with chicken and smothered in red sauce. Different than what I had ever seen before, but I’m an open-minded person. LA’s assessment hit the nail on the head. They were bland. He was also quite convinced that the chicken was from a can, but I was unable to form a full opinion on that subject. While it is true that the chicken didn’t have much flavor, I chalked it up to poaching and a lack of seasoning.

I ordered what the menu called the “BTO California”. Based on the description, I correctly assumed that it was a burrito. I ordered it with the beef, incorrectly assuming that it would be ground beef. The BTO California consisted of a large tortilla filled with rice, refried beans, guacamole, and strips of grilled steak, smothered in white cheese sauce. Basically it was the queso minus the fundido. The steak was very tender, leaving me quite happy that I had made an incorrect assumption when ordering. My burrito had much more flavor than did LA’s enchiladas, owing mostly to the well-cooked and -seasoned steak. I offered LA a bite of it, but, upon hearing the word “guacamole”, he declined. The portions are large, even for the lunch specials. I took half of my burrito home with me (smothered in the extra queso fundido. Is there such a thing as too much cheese?).

My greatest complaints about El Amigo were not with the food or the atmosphere, but with the service. We were seated promptly, our food came out quickly, and our glasses stayed full. All good. But small things add up. Our waiter had a lip ring, which he kept biting. The constant lip biting was a source of great irritation to my dining companion, who self-admittedly looked like an “escaped mental patient”. The waiter splashed LA with tea while refilling the glasses and seemed quite put out when I asked for separate checks. The impression left with both of us was that our waiter did not like his job. While entering the restroom, I had to hold the door for a server who was exiting. I was opening the door and about to step through when she brushed past me, bumping into my shoulder. In my restaurant years, it was an expectation that staff would hold the door for the customers and not vice versa. Maybe I’m old-fashioned that way. LA said that he would not go back to El Amigo because of the food. The food is average or a little better, but it is the service that will keep me from returning. We didn’t even get a “Good-bye, amigos” when we left. I guess the friendship is over.

El Amigo is located at 1776 S. Cannon Blvd in Kannapolis.

He's a Real Fungi

2010-05-14T17:20:00.007-04:00

When I was growing up, my parents were of the mindset that simply warning a child of the dangers of society is not enough. No, a far better option is to create a phobia. I will only begrudgingly go into the ocean, as the potential for a jellyfish attack is so great. Don’t even ask about hitchhikers, although my mother will gladly tell you all about that if you’re truly curious. These dire warnings even extended to the foliage in the backyard. “Don’t eat the mushrooms! You could die!” I was an intelligent child, but I was still unable to make a distinction between the wild mushrooms that would lead to my horrible and mouth-frothing death and the canned mushrooms that my mother put in the spaghetti. Mushrooms are mushrooms. Why take chances? In France, autumn brings to the forest scavengers for the best mushrooms. They then take their hard-won selections to the pharmacist, who tells them which are toxic and which are not. No, thank you. Everyone, be it a passing acquaintance or a dear friend, knows that I do not eat mushrooms. As I sat picking the mushrooms out of the above-mentioned spaghetti, my father would say, “I hope you don’t do that in public!” Well, Dad, if I’m given mushrooms in public, I will, in fact, still pick them out. If Thomas Keller handed me a plate of mushrooms that he’d sauteed especially for me, I would take a bite out of politeness. One bite. And I would probably spit it into my napkin when he wasn’t looking. I know many people who feel the same way I do, and many more who think I am crazy for the disdain I feel towards mushrooms.

I would like to clarify my true feelings toward the fungus. I am not generally offended by the taste of mushrooms. I am offended by the texture. I imagine an eyeball would have the same textural qualities. I do not eat eyeballs, therefore I do not eat mushrooms. I often make mushroom gravy to accompany meatloaf. While my dinner companions are raving about the gravy, I am busy pushing the mushrooms to the side of my plate. You know, where the parsley used to be. (Maybe I’m dating myself with that statement, but anyone my age or older remembers the sprig of parsley, and sometimes a lemon wedge, that was sitting at either 1 o’clock or 11 o’clock on the restaurant plate.) Beef bourgignon would not be the same without the mushrooms. But I don’t have to eat them. Stuffed mushrooms are delicious—I can often be found eating the stuffing and leaving the base.

“Have you ever actually eaten a mushroom?” I get asked this all the time. Yes, I have eaten a mushroom. The cause of this is usually someone who feels that they alone have the power to change my mind and cause me to love something that looks and feels like a small, spongy hat. They tell me that they can make me love a mushroom, that they have the recipe that will cause me to shout “Eureka!” and bless them and their mushroom strudel. To that I respond, “Better people than you have tried and failed.” In a battle of wills over mushrooms, I always win.

I wish I liked mushrooms. The variety is overwhelming. Wild mushrooms. Cultivated mushrooms. Dried mushrooms. Chinese mushrooms. The list goes on and on. The vegetarian option at most restaurants invariably involves mushrooms in some form. Even fast food restaurants are beginning to offer portobello “burgers”. That’s not a burger—it’s a salad on a bun. I just can’t do it. I have been told that your taste buds change every 7 years, so you may now enjoy foods that you detested a few years ago. While this may be true in some cases, my taste buds have gone through many revitalizations, and still I cannot eat mushrooms. With one exception.

I was flipping through a Japanese cookbook a few years back, when I came upon an odd-looking creature wrapped in bacon. It looked a bit like a space alien, or maybe an anemone like you would see on the Discovery Channel in a program about the weird and wonderful species living on the bottom of the Marianas Trench. But it was a mushroom. An enokitake mushroom, to be exact. I had never seen anything like it. They were so intriguing. I knew I had to find some immediately.

The enokitake get their name from the tree (take) on which they grow, the enoki (hackberry). In Japan, wild enokitake may still be found in markets. These look similar to the cultivated variety, but the caps are a darker color. In the US, wild enokitake are rarely available. The cultivated variety are much more common, with a flavor that matches the wild variety. Enokitake mushrooms are, in fact, very subtle in flavor. While often cooked in Japan, in dishes such as shabu-shabu, they are frequently eaten raw in the US. I have occasionally seen enokitake mushrooms in the supermarket, usually on the top shelf of the produce section, with many other foreign and infrequently-purchased items. They are more easily found in Asian markets. This is where I first was able to find the mushrooms. I bought them, as well as a package of bacon, so I could make obimake enoki. This is a wonderful and unusual dish that is great for parties. The unusual appearance will appeal to your guests, and the ease of preparation will appeal to you. I guarantee that even die-hard mushroom-haters will be impressed!

Obimake Enoki
Enokitake Mushrooms with a Sash
Makes 24
Adapted from The Cook’s Encyclopedia of Japanese Cooking, by Emi Kazuko (Anness Publishing Ltd., 2002)

1lb fresh enokitake mushrooms
6 strips smoked bacon
lemon wedges and ground pepper, to serve

Cut off the root part of each enokitake cluster ¾ inch from the end, making sure that you do not separate the stems. Cut the bacon strips in half lengthwise.

Divid the enokitake into 12 bunches. Wrap one halved strip of bacon around the middle of the enokitake, so you have an equal amout of mushroom showing on either end of the bacon. Tuck any short stems into the bacon . Secure the ends of the bacon with a toothpick. Continue wrapping each bunch with one halved slice of bacon. You should have 12 wrapped bunches when done.

Preheat the broiler to High. Place the enokitake rolls on an oiled wire rack. Broil for 10-12 minutes, turning as needed, until the bacon is crisp and the mushrooms begin to burn.

Remove the enokitake rolls from the rack. Cut each roll in half in the middle of the bacon belt. To serve, arrange the top half of the enokitake bunches standing up, with the lower half lying on the platter. Serve with lemon wedges and ground pepper.

Why is the mushroom the life of the party? Because he's a real fungi!

Hurray for Soup!

2010-05-13T19:09:00.004-04:00

I was joylessly contemplating another meal made from the prepackaged contents of my pantry. Ugh—macaroni and cheese or Rice-a-Roni? I couldn’t bear another meal of dehydrated cheese with a side of sodium. But what were my other options? Then lightning struck! Crushed tomatoes. Canned corn. Elbow macaroni. With some ingenuity and a few other ingredients, I could have minestrone! I excitedly collected everything that I thought might make an acceptable soup.

I wouldn’t call my minestrone “traditional”. I prefer to think of it as Kitchen Sink Minestrone. Everything but the aforementioned kitchen sink went into it. My ultimate goal was to make something that would pass as edible, while being healthier than the majority of my recent meals. Healthier than Tuna Helper? Unbelievable, I know.

My final ingredient list was:

1 ½ tbsp of minced garlic
About 1 cup of frozen Southern-style hash browns
28 oz can of crushed tomatoes
5 vegetable bouillon cubes
2 quarts of water
14 oz can of corn
14 oz can of chickpeas
2 oz elbow macaroni
8 oz of frozen peas
5 cubes of frozen chopped basil (5 tsp)

I heated 3 tbsp of oil in my 7 quart Dutch oven, since I figured I would end up making a very large amount of soup. I quickly cooked the garlic, and then added the hash browns. Right from the freezer. Why thaw? Then I dumped in the tomatoes, chickpeas, corn and the water. I crumbled the bouillon cubes right into the soup. I know they say to dissolve them in the water, but that’s really just an extra step. I brought this to a boil, then reduced it to a simmer and covered it.

After about 30 minutes of cooking, I added the macaroni, which proceeded to stick to the bottom of the pan. Rather than stir the soup, I had to scrape it. Eh, it won’t affect the flavor, and I’m probably the only one who’ll be eating it. I covered the pot again and let it cook for an additional 15 minutes, stirring/scraping occasionally. I then added the peas and the basil. Again, right from the freezer. I let it cook another 5-10 minutes, adjusted the seasoning with salt and pepper, and decided that enough had gone into it.

When I served it (to myself), I topped the soup with a bit of shredded Parmesan cheese and some chopped parsley (from the freezer). To be honest, it tasted better than I expected. I was quite pleased with myself. But did I achieve my goals? I feel a lot better knowing that I’ve gotten some vegetables into my body, as this hasn’t happened too often in recent weeks/months/years. I can also say with no small sense of accomplishment that the soup was edible, and quite possibly even tasty. Another bonus is the realization that I have an option other than dried noodles in a powder sauce. Of course, I did end up with a vat of soup. If anyone wants to partake of the Makeshift Minestrone (oooh, that’s an even better name), come on over!

One final note. I rarely use spell check, but decided to give it a go today. Spell check was not pleased with my use of "oooh" and recommended that I change it to "pooh". Thanks, spell check!

“Cold soup is a very tricky thing and it is the rare hostess who can carry it off. More often than not the dinner guest is left with the impression that had he only come a little earlier he could’ve gotten it while it was still hot."
--Fran Lebowitz
Metropolitan Life

A Little Taste of Italy (in a can)

2010-05-11T15:44:00.001-04:00

I try to support the independent business owner. I frequent local Main Street businesses, whenever possible, rather than the big box stores or chain restaurants. I want to see the small businesses succeed and prosper! Kannapolis has an abundance of small, family-owned restaurants, and I prefer giving them my patronage. The restaurant industry as a whole has a notoriously low profit margin. It can be difficult to make money when the economy is good, let alone when it isn’t. If I find a place that I like, I will keep going back. I will also tell everyone about it, in an effort to keep it in business. If you know either LA or me, you know our local haunts and how much we love them. In return, I expect the business to make an effort to keep me (or anyone else) coming back.

Palermo’s Italian Restaurant opened for business a few months back. The building had been empty since I moved to Kannapolis, but, in a previous life, it was most likely a Burger King. Where the children’s play area used to be there is now outdoor seating. The terra cotta tile floor and large windows all around especially lend to the fast food feel. The owners have made an effort to improve the décor, with a trellis and ivy around the cash register, traditional Italian-restaurant checked tablecloths, and some new light fixtures. LA feels that the décor is lacking, but I understand that Palermo’s was probably opened on a shoe string. At least they tried to improve the appearance!

LA and I decided to give Palermo’s a try shortly after they opened. Palermo’s has a daily lunch menu for $5.99, which includes an entrée and drink. They have a respectable selection, including chicken parmigiana, lasagna, chef’s salad, pizza, or a variety of sandwiches. We went on a Saturday, and the restaurant was hopping. Most of the seats were filled and everyone seemed happy. LA and I both opted for the chicken parmigiana, which came with spaghetti and a side of garlic bread. Our waitress was friendly, but not overbearing—the kind of service person that I prefer. She kept our glasses filled, which is always a welcome, if not rare, touch. The garlic bread was comprised of baguette slices that had been coated with garlic butter and then baked. They probably would’ve been very good had they not been overcooked, bordering on burnt. The chicken was the pre-breaded and frozen variety that is brought in by a national distributor. While I can’t report for certain that the sauce was from a can as well, I would be shocked if it had been homemade. The taste was fine, but it was quite watery and left a pool of thin liquid beneath our spaghetti. If it is homemade, they should either get a new cook or considering getting it from a can, along with the frozen chicken. Overall, we were satisfied, but not impressed.

We felt that Palermo’s needed a second chance, so we returned last week. We arrived at 1:30 on a Saturday afternoon. No one was there! The surrounding establishments had half-full or more parking lots, and Palermo’s had us. We were greeted at the door and immediately seated. Our waiter appeared and took our drink orders. LA chose not to eat anything, as it may have interfered with the giant bowl of mashed potatoes that he eats every day at 5pm. I, however, was not there for the atmosphere. From the $5.99 lunch menu, I ordered the NY Buffalo Chicken sub, described on the menu as “chicken tenders in a spicy Buffalo sauce, with lettuce, tomato, onion, and ranch sauce”, with a side of fries. Hold the onion and tomato, please. I wasn’t planning to kiss LA later, but we would be riding in the same car, breathing the same air. The buffalo sauce would be bad enough, without the raw onions to top it. The second thing that we noticed (the first being that the place was empty) was the music. It was loud. The volume would have been appropriate for a crowded room, but it was too loud for only two customers. The stereo system was also scratchy. Of great amusement to us was the musical variety. We had Shania Twain, the Isley Brothers, and Andrea Bocelli, to name a few. Not only was the music louder than necessary, but the conversation among the staff was as well. Our waiter was providing details of his previous night’s date to the other server, and we got to hear all about it. Maybe I’m just jealous that someone had a date. The food took longer than expected to arrive, but it was hot when I got it. That’s always a plus. The chicken wasn’t in the typical Buffalo sauce, and this one had a slight Italian-y flavor to it. I chalked this up to oregano in either the chicken breading or the sauce. While it was a very drippy sandwich, it was also pretty good. The roll had been crisped up in the oven, which is a nice touch. The fries were undercooked and undersalted. I can’t speak for anyone else, but my opinion holds that an unsalted French fry is one of life’s great disappointments. French fries are meant to be crispy and salty. Not limp and bland. Speaking of limp, LA wanted me to mention the pickle that came with the sandwich. The notes that I took on that subject are rather succint: limp pickle. For those who don’t know, I worked for three summers in a pickle factory. I know pickles. I hadn’t really planned on eating it; it was just an observation. Overall, we left this visit with the same opinion of the food as we had the previous time. It was satisfying, but not memorable. Considering the price, it’s a good value. It’s essentially the same price as a fast food combo, but you get a better selection. We finally left at 2:15, and no one else had ever come through the doors. I hate to sound the death knell for any restaurant, but it felt to both of us like it was coming sooner rather than later. Since it’s cheap and relatively decent, I would recommend going to Palermo’s while you still have the choice. Just don’t go with high expectations. Think of it more in terms of Italian fast food.

A Lot Like Hitting a Telephone Pole

2010-05-10T20:21:00.000-04:00

Every Saturday, after going to the farmer’s market, LA and I visit as many yard sales as possible, in a quest for cheap old furniture in need of a little love. A few Saturdays back, we found two end tables for $1 each. Score! We happily paid the sellers our $2, then loaded the tables into the back seat of my car (after chasing a giant spider off of one of them). As we were backing out of the driveway, we were jolted to an abrupt stop. We’d hit something, but what? We thought maybe it was another car. No. The couch sitting on the curb? No. Then we saw the telephone pole that was directly behind the car. We sheepishly drove away, too embarrassed to leave the car to assess the damage. After putting some distance between us and the onlookers, we pulled over. We had to see it. “There must be a giant dent where we hit the pole.” “It’s going to be huge.” We found a small scratch on the bumper that wasn’t there before. We hit the pole with such force that the sunroof opened. We nearly died (of embarrassment, anyway)! Yet there was only a small scratch.

Why am I telling you all of this? I started my kitchen escapades one week ago. I have eaten two meals in a restaurant, and the other 19 at home. 19 meals! Three meals per day, seven days per week, minus the two meals out. Surely I’ve made a large dent in the inventory in both pantry and freezer. I’ve hit it with such force! No, there’s barely a scratch. You have to look closely to see it, and even then, you have to know what you’re looking for. I attempted to eat some “chow mein” last night, but I threw it out. Maybe I’ll give the two remaining packages to LA; he seems to like them. I’ve eaten spaghetti and meatballs, Rice-a-Roni, beets, cereal, bacon. Even Girl Scout cookies and Chex Mix. And I’ve just scratched the surface. Sadly, I’m already tired of my choices. I vow that I will never again buy five packets of instant mashed potatoes, simply because they’re on sale. If I’m smart, I’ll never buy them again, period. I’m trying to consume the least interesting foods first, which will leave the good stuff for the end. As my reward. My logic is that, if I eat the gross stuff to start, I won’t still have a stockpile when I’m through eating the things that I want. You don’t have to agree with my logic. The other option would be for me to give away all the food that I dread having to eat. If I did that, I’m just wasting money that I need right now. And why did I buy it if I dreaded eating it?

None of the 19 meals this week would qualify as interesting to anyone reading this. I didn’t find them interesting when I was eating them. How much can really be said about a roast beef sandwich? I did turn leftover instant mashed potatoes into soup. The result tasted like instant mashed potato soup. I contemplated making something with my nine pounds of butter, maybe brioche. On second thought, I would have to a) eat, or b) find room for the brioche. The butter is just hanging out in the freezer, not hurting anyone, so it may as well stay there until I need to make bread. Or a cake. Or put a whole stick on a baked potato, like the Buttertons do in the commercial.

The most difficult time for me in this first week was our trip to the farmer’s market. They had strawberries. They had tomatoes. They had pie! I couldn’t buy any of it. I didn’t even buy any of Deb’s olive tapenade. Secretly, I wish I’d cheated and bought some of that. The best part of my experiment is the one big lesson that I’ve already learned: it does not make sense for me to buy packaged foods or anything that makes more than two servings. I get bored with it, and it’s not good for me anyway. Once I’m able to buy a variety of food items again, I will buy only what I need. I will not be on Door Knock Dinners; that show isn’t even on anymore. So I can stop stockpiling! Until then, I still have Tuna Helper and Rice-a-Roni waiting for me.

Happy Mother's Day!

2010-05-09T14:13:00.005-04:00

Today we celebrate our mothers, grandmothers, and any special woman in our lives. I thought it would be appropriate for me to take a few minutes to look back at the women in my life and what they gave to me in the way of physical and emotional nourishment.

My paternal grandmother, Bertha, (Grandma B.) was a farmer’s wife who raised three children and cooked for her family and all of the farm hands that worked for them. In the small community where she lived, Grandma B. was well-known for her cooking. Anyone attending a potluck or bake sale sought out the goods that Grandma B. had made. She was quite modest about her ability and would tell me, “Even bread and butter tastes better when someone else makes it.” To this day, I still hold up her potato soup as the pinnacle of the potato soup experience. When I visited as a child, she would make me hamburgers or fried egg sandwiches. The fried egg sandwich is still one of my stand-bys, and I even had one last night (while thinking of Grandma B.). Although she had six grandchildren, two of them are much younger than the rest of us. When the four oldest of us were kids, Grandma B. had a dog named Taj. Taj was a farm dog and only allowed onto the back porch of the house or into the kitchen. Grandma B. usually had a full cookie jar, and we would call Taj into the kitchen to feed him cookies. In retrospect, I think she actually baked the cookies because she knew we liked giving them to the dog. And he liked eating them. All of her cats lived outdoors, next to and under the rosebushes, and she would get up in the mornings to make a pan of gravy to take out to the kittens. As great as Grandma B.’s cooking normally was, though, she seemed to struggle with the holiday meal. The family still jokes about the scorched mashed potatoes and dry turkey that we happily drowned in gravy and inhaled every Thanksgiving and Christmas. Towards the end of her life, I asked Grandma B. for her recipe for cinnamon rolls. She was in failing health and was losing her memory, so I wanted the recipe while I could still get it. She brought out a cookbook from 1943, a copy of which both she and my great-grandmother had purchased from a door-to-door salesman during the war. She gave me this cookbook, as well as a locally-produced cookbook, and said that all of her recipes were in them. I later flipped through both books, seeing several different recipes marked “Good” in my Grandma B.’s recognizable script. I did find one for meatloaf that she had marked “Tried”. Grandma B. had a wonderful sense of humor, and, every time I see “Tried” in that cookbook, I laugh and think that it was probably her polite way of saying that it was a miss. Needless to say, I doubt I will ever make that recipe.

Not a cook like Grandma B., my maternal grandmother, Blanche, (Grandma R.) still provided some great memories growing up. In reality, I don’t remember Grandma R. making much of anything. When my cousin, Kari, and I would visit our grandparents, we usually subsisted on toast. Or, we would hold out until early afternoon, at which point Grandpa would say, “You girls want a weenie?” We would enthusiastically answer in the affirmative and find ourselves in possession of a hot dog wrapped in a slice of white bread, slathered with ketchup. For her lack of cooking, though, Grandma R. often had the oven on, with a pan of eggs inside. Not to cook them, though. To incubate them. We would sit in front of the oven like expectant mothers, waiting for the first chick to poke his way out of the shell. “Hurray! We have chickens!” Along with a zoo of furry and feathered friends, my grandparents also had a large garden, full of rhubard, grapes, and raspberries. Kari and I would be sent to the garden with two bowls and the task of picking raspberries. The harvest typically went something like, “One for me, one for the bowl. Two for me, one for the bowl.” We would be purple and nearly sick by the time we took our half-full bowls of berries back in; me covered with mosquito bites while Kari would be hardly touched. Grandma R. would freeze our harvest in 1-quart bags. In the winter, she would take a bag of berries out of the freezer for Kari and me to share. When the berries had only just begun to thaw, we would dump them in a bowl, cover them with sugar, then begin chipping away at the raspberry-ice block with our spoons, too impatient to wait for them to defrost. After the raspberries were devoured, we would fight over the sugary syrup left in the bottom of the bowl. Grandma R. would also make grape jelly, using the grapes from her garden. The jelly with the piece of wax inside the jar that you had to break and pick out to get at the grapey goodness contained inside. I miss that grape jelly. Grandma R. cooks even less now that she lives alone. The last time she turned on her oven, she forgot that she was using it for storage and had to call the fire department when smoke started billowing out. Maybe it’s a good thing she’s not cooking anymore.

I saved the best for last: my mother, Carolyn. My mom enjoys baking, but admits that cooking isn’t her favorite task. It’s pretty obvious if you know her at all. Every Christmas, my mom makes up huge batches of anise-flavored pizzelles, Chex Mix, and banana bread. At a craft sale a few years ago, my mom spotted a vendor with all of her breads baked in small jars. Since that time, my mother always makes hers in mason jars, too. My mom’s jarred banana bread was one of the only things that Grandma B. would eat in her final months. The beauty of baking it in jars is that the bread is sealed and lasts indefinitely. Not that I know how long that is. The bread usually doesn’t make it until the end of the week before it’s gone. My friend Vince raves about it, and he hasn’t had any in several years. To make it, she simply makes up a batch of her favorite banana bread (or any quick bread recipe), then fills the jars half-full, bakes according to the recipe, then puts on the lids while they’re still hot from the oven. I make it this way now, as well. We lived on a farm while I was growing up, my mom worked, and we didn’t have a lot of money, so I learned to appreciate the humble casserole. If memory serves me, one that Mom would make was with ground beef, cream of mushroom soup, green beans or corn, and a layer of tater tots to top it. Just thinking of that now makes my mouth water. My mom’s real claim to fame, in my immediate family at least, is a casserole known as Creamed Tacos. Every naysayer who has taken just one bite has found it to be delicious, albeit a bit unappetizing in appearance. We have creamed tacos on Christmas Eve, birthdays, and any other day that my dad complains loudly that he never gets them. She then calls me to say, “I’m making creamed tacos for your father, since he says I never make them for him.” Don’t feel too sorry for my dad and his pitiful casserole deprivation, since I get the creamed taco phone call several times per year. If I were asked to come up with my best memory of my mom, it would probably be an incident that occurred when I was around nine years old. My mom was driving a tractor, and I was along for the ride. Our dog was running behind, barking, until we eventually stopped to pick him up and let him ride, too. If you know my mother, I’m sure you’ll get a laugh at the thought of her driving a tractor, especially with a kid and a dog as passengers. I know I still do. I love you, Mom!

Creamed Tacos
Serves 6-8, depending on the gluttony of the diners
Adapted from a recipe in the 1975 Karval Country Cookbook.

1-2 tbsp vegetable oil
1 small onion, diced
2 lbs. ground beef
1 14-oz can condensed low-sodium cream of chicken soup
1 14-oz can condensed low-sodium cream of mushroom soup
1 14-oz can green enchilada sauce
1 jar medium taco sauce
1 4-oz can diced green chiles
Non-stick cooking spray
8-10 corn tortillas, torn into pieces
1-2 cups shredded Cheddar cheese

Preheat the oven to 375°.

Heat the oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add the onions and cook until soft. Add the ground beef, then continue to cook until the beef is no longer pink. Add the soups, enchilada sauce, taco sauce and green chiles to the pan. Stir until thoroughly combined.

Spray a 9”X13” baking pan with the cooking spray. Ladle a small amount of the beef and soup mixture into the bottom, just to cover it. Top with a layer of tortillas. Ladle enough beef and soup mixture on top to cover the tortillas, then continue alternating layers of the beef mixture and tortillas. The final layer should be the beef mixture. Top with the cheese. (I get very heavy-handed with the cheese, since I like mine extra cheesy and gooey.) Cover with aluminum foil and bake 30 minutes. Remove the foil and bake for another 15 minutes, or until cheese is melted and bubbling. Allow to rest for 5 minutes before serving.

This Little Piggy Went to Market

2010-05-08T18:59:00.004-04:00

Every year, with the coming of spring, I count the days until the farmer’s market opens. While I enjoy seeing, smelling and poking all the seasonal produce, brought by local farmers and growers, my heart skips a beat when I contemplate the various and sundry other items on offer. I frequent the Piedmont Farmer’s Market in Kannapolis, which is conveniently located near LA’s apartment. During the winter, a few sellers turn up for a “tailgate market”, but the full market every Saturday, from May through November, brings in the big guns. Not only can you buy produce, but also birdhouses, a bedazzled butterfly blouse, wine stoppers made out of old silverware, and soaps in every color and fragrance. Meats, cheese, and eggs are available from multiple producers (more on those in future posts). Two bakeries were offering breads and pastries. The market isn’t yet in full swing, which left several stalls unoccupied. The pimento cheese lady was missing, as was the blueberry man. I’m sure they’ll turn up as the season progresses. I’ve got my fingers crossed.

One stall that I was very happy to see occupied was that of Deborah’s Kitchen Kreations. LA and I first encountered Deb’s wares at one of the winter tailgate markets. She was offering lemon poppy seed bread and small-batch mustard. Deb’s lemon poppy seed bread is like a pound cake, but lighter. And more heavenly. Full of lemony deliciousness, without the over-processed and stabilized taste of a store-bought cake. (Entenmann’s, eat your heart out.) Better than the bread, however, is the Stone House Mustard. Deb offers samples, and you will be hooked after one taste. The mustard is sweet, like a honey mustard, but not at all cloying, and with a little spiciness. LA and I each bought a jar that day and it became the centerpiece for that lunch and several that followed. I made a vinaigrette using the Stone House mustard and apple cider vinegar. We drizzled (or maybe poured) the vinaigrette over spinach, sliced Granny Smith apples, candied walnuts, and feta cheese that we’d also grabbed at the market. For the sake of full disclosure, the salad is an adaptation of one served at Old Stone Vino, but the salad is delicious whether made at the restaurant or at home. (I would recommend using blue cheese, rather than the feta that Old Stone Vino uses.) Old Stone Vino also offers Stone House mustard with their cheese tray. This mustard has become a go-to every time I make a vinaigrette. Deb recommends it as a glaze for meats and poultry, and LA puts it on all of his sandwiches. I could go on and on about my love of the Stone House mustard, as it is officially my second favorite condiment (nothing can top banana ketchup), but another of Deb's items merits mention. Today Deb also had an olive tapenade. I love olive tapenade in all its guises. Deb uses a variety of olives and leaves it chunky, more like a relish. You would be correct if you already guessed that I wanted to put it on everything. While the products are fantastic, Deb herself will keep you coming back. She obviously enjoys what she’s doing, and this is apparent in everything she sells. She only began selling her items at the markets in November, so anyone who hasn't gone to the markets since last summer may not be familiar with her. Deb is definitely worth seeking out; she'll be the one in the yellow apron.

Now that I’ve thrown a craving on you for some mustard and lemon poppy seed bread, I do have a bit of bad news. Deb won’t be at the Piedmont Farmer’s Market for the next two Saturdays. She will be in Belmont at the Belmont Garibaldi Festival on May 15, then in Harrisburg for the Harrisburg Heritage Craft Day on May 22. She’ll be returning to the Piedmont Farmer’s Market on May 29. You can call or email Deb to order any of her products , then pick them up at one of the markets she’s attending. If you’re smart, you won’t waste any time in doing so.

Please visit Deb’s website Deborah’s Kitchen Kreations for a calendar of events, to find out a little more about Deb, and to order any of her products. You won’t be sorry that you did, but you may be sorry that it took so long!

We are so used to buying everything from corporate giants or faceless producers that it is gratifying to meet and talk to the person growing, raising, or making what it is we’re eating. “Buying locally” is a catchphrase that we see or hear all the time in magazines, books, and on the Food Network, but I remember the days when that was our only real option. I’m less interested in how far the strawberry has traveled than I am in the person who grew it. Everything tastes better when you know it was raised or made with care and attention. I will be returning to the market every Saturday and possibly Tuesday, and a different vendor will be highlighted each week. Check back to find out what items are available and to read about the wonderful people selling them!