Return of the Mac

To make a long story short, my husband is a genius and my hero. His Internet searching prowess led to the miraculous resurrection of the Oracle, also known as my trusty MacBook Pro. Its malfunction? A problem with the graphics card, subject to a recall. So the expired warranty ceased to be an issue. The Mac is back, and it didn't cost us anything. They even fixed the battery and disc drive! Hooray!

I always try to savor it when things break our way. It's a precious experience around here.

Anyway I've spent this evening catching up on the 45 blog posts Google Reader saved while I was in the laptop desert. And a couple of my Internet friends -- by whom I mean my only friends, for I am a hermit in my old age -- have been writing about life struggles. My heart aches with theirs, and I wish them comfort and courage.

Food photo break!

I love late summer...

That's a couple of tomato slices, with fresh mozzarella, basil leaves, and a sprinkle of salt. Crusty bread or crackers make it the best lunch of the year. I had this like, three days last week. Though I have to admit: that fresh basil did a flat number on my breath. Sorry, front row public speaking students.

Now back to that comfort and courage. Man I have been on the receiving end of a Cosmic Screw-You or two. Of late, comfort has come to me in simmering pots and sizzling pans. I get courage from my friends and family, and a stubborn, inflated belief in my own genius.

My grandma always says you speak into existence. As in, if you say you're having a bad day/week/life then the bad will keep coming to you. In my experience, it totally works. So, listen up, universe. Give my girls a break. Share some of this love you've been giving me lately. There's plenty enough blessing to spread around. I claim their victory.

You know who you are if this crack at encouragement is meant for you. Much love, ladies. It passes. I promise.

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I am computerless

Call it the perfect example of how the universe likes to test me. Early this morning I was online, reading the news, peachy as pie. When I got home from campus this evening, nothing. It powers up but displays nada. Not even on an external monitor.

Now... Get this... My warranty expired... THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY. I shit you not.

There are bright sides. Like how I procrastinated buying the new battery I've needed since April, at least. Like how I put off upgrading my OS & Office software. Like how we just got the Airport to work with Doug's laptop on Sunday.

So, I don't even know what this post will look like. Hopefully Blogger will cleverly interpret the html I've punched in here. If not I humbly apologize for the eyeball-assaulting block of text with pointless tags crammed in.

Oh yeah, and, Casey was soooo right about the other day's chili recipe. It was short on beans. Thanks for calling me out, bitch. I was gonna write up some variations today, but for now I'm getting carpal tunnel from Blackberry typing. Stay tuned...

Sent via BlackBerry by AT&T

Pull it together, sister

Oh, the dog days of summer -- an expression which, I read somewhere, has to do with the dog star Sirius. And the fact I couldn't even sustain a thought train through my first line of typing today ought to tell you something about my state of mind. (Hint: steaming hot mess.)

The food-blogging drive has abandoned me. Not for lack of cooking -- my kitchen is kicking out luxury! Like the day I fixed chicken nachos...

Which I set out intending to write about

Or when I lost my mind and just had to make these brownies I found on The Food Blog...

Hooray for my Green Boxes!

Gotta love those Blackberry pictures, huh? Anyway...

I'm sort of out of my mind prepping one of my classes. Apparently I have a limited daily allotment of creativity. Which? For now is going into assignments I hope won't provoke my students to mutiny. The previous syllabus included a lot of "type memos" kind of projects. I don't mean to be a hater, but when's the last time you saw a typed memo?

It's been fun though. No really! It's just sucking away all of my time and attention. Poor Doug must think he's married to the back of a laptop. And just wait til speech season kicks off in earnest.

Can I just marvel at my privilege of having a job to bitch about? Also, can you just marvel at how that's my idea of a positive attitude? I am sunshine incarnate, I tell ya.

Happy Friday the 13th. There's a slasher movie marathon in my future. Sweet.

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Downs and ups

It was tough to admit.

Doug lacked to have fainted when I copped to him.

I never thought I'd feel this way.

I -- um -- well -- I miss Bowling Green.

Only on Saturday morning, I swear! Specifically, I miss my old farmer's market. Something awful. My weekly jaunt to the hospital parking lot brought me such joy. I saw classmates and teachers from WKU -- even bought stuff from a few of them! I built relationships with local farmers. I even got to listen to a family bluegrass band from time to time. I looked forward to the market. Couldn't wait for Saturdays. Felt a little lost when fall arrived and I got stuck with Kroger.

It's not like that here. I have a choice between two markets and both leave something to be desired.

If I want better selection, I go to Marietta. It's my worst nightmare. Instead of being spread across a spacious parking lot, it's crammed into a single block of a single street. It's worse than Walmart at Christmastime.

Y'all know how I feel about crowds.

Smyrna is a nicer experience. Baptist church parking lot, same vendors every week -- it has a lot of the qualities I loved about Bowling Green. But it's teeny. Two stalls of vegetables. Two. Also, you have to be there before 9:30 a.m. if you're gonna get eggs. Ugh.

Also... well I don't know this for sure, but I have a suspicion I'm not seeing actual producers. I hear tell one of the biggest farmer's markets in the world is in the city. And that most suburban vendors go there first, then set up stalls elsewhere to resell. I know that's the story in Marietta. And it seems to be the case in Smyrna too.

This is not what I got into the farmer's market scene for. One of the problems with reselling is the markup. Back in Kentucky, I used to laugh at the suckers paying outrageous money for Chilean produce at Kroger. Not around here. Half the time the vegetables are more expensive than the grocery store. I have to poke and pick to find actual producers selling their own stuff.

So I miss Bowling Green...

Until later that day, when I realized I had ten stores to visit in search of new work clothes. TEN! As opposed to the showstopping two stores to check out in Bowling Green. You give and you take, right? More to come on my buying binge, over at AKoP.

How was your weekend?

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Chili for realz

I'm informally designating today as my one-year anniversary of hardcore cooking. Good friends and regular readers already know this story. So y'all can skip the next two paragraphs. Go on ahead, I'll never know.

Last August, I came home from a month of speech camp with massive anxiety. No job, no prospects, and badly banged-up self-esteem. I decided, if I wasn't going to be adding any income to the household, the least I could do was contribute work that would cut down our weekly expenses.

Hence, the cooking. For less than a hundred bucks a week we could both eat really, REALLY well. This year, as I'm about to re-enter the workforce, I'm feeling kind of angsty about where the time to cook will come from. Gotta work on my repertoire of things that re-heat well. Gotta do something, cuz the thought going back to takeout kinda disgusts me now.

Yep, I've turned into one of those a*hole food people.

One thing on the agenda is to make gallons -- literal gallons -- of chili. Right now, while tomatoes are cheap and taste perfect. Chili keeps well in the freezer for months, so the more I crank out, the more quick meals I'll have through the fall.

I know I've covered chili on this blog before, but I wanted to share the recipe with fresh tomatoes instead of canned. The process isn't substantially different. Just a little more prep but a lot more flavor. I don't know who invented chili, but bless their memory all the same.

Chili on the "For Real" (a.k.a. with fresh tomatoes)

What I used:

• 1/2 cup dry red kidney beans, rinsed and soaked overnight
• 8 or 9 medium tomatoes (I can't remember for sure -- say a pound pint* and a half)
• 2 pounds ground beef
• 1 large sweet yellow onion
• 1 medium green bell pepper
• 1 small red bell pepper
• 4 stalks celery
• 4 large garlic cloves
• Anaheim, serrano, and red and green jalapeno peppers
• 5-6 shakes mild green Tabasco sauce
• Cumin, parsley, cilantro, and cayenne
• Salt and pepper

Phew! Okay, so the first thing was to pre-cook the beans. Following the package directions, I let them go for a good hour before starting the chili prep proper. Next I put the ground beef on medium heat with some salt and pepper, and blanched my tomatoes.

In two batches, because I was using my big pot for the chili -- duh...

I was thinking the other day, I don't believe I've ever broken down my blanching philosophy. I bring the water to a good rolling boil, then carefully add the tomatoes (or peaches, or green beans, or whatever). Then I bring the water back up to boiling, and let it go for 3-5 minutes. For these tomatoes, I gave them the whole five. After that I fished them out with a slotted spoon and gently relocated them to a giant bowl of ice water.

While all that browning and boiling were going on, I was chopping up all the veggies except the hot peppers. Those go in later. Then I put the browned beef aside and drained most of the grease, using what was left to sweat down the veggies.

Oops. Over-drained the grease. No worries, just sprinkle in some olive oil.

You'll notice I used celery here, which falls outside my usual onion-bell pepper-garlic trinity. In this recipe it adds some much-needed moisture. Without the extra juice from canned tomatoes, that's a big bonus.

Once the onions started turning slightly transparent, I dumped in the beef and beans and reduced the heat to low.

The beans should be *almost* done at this point. Think al dente.

Next went in the tomatoes. Again, to conserve moisture, I peeled and shredded them right over the pot. That way all the drips ended up in the chili and not on the cutting board. I hope it goes without saying, I cut out and discarded the stems.

It was looking a little dry, so I added in a few ladles of the tomato-blanching water. Then I stuck a lid on all that and let it simmer while I diced up the spicy peppers.

L-R: 1/2 a serrano, 1 red jalapeno, 1 green jalapeno, and 1/4 Anaheim

I chucked those in the pot and added the Tabasco, cumin, parsley, and cilantro. Taste. Oddly not that spicy. So I added some cayenne. And a little more salt and black pepper.

Stick on the lid and it's ready to simmer.

Now my favorite part of chili making. Walk away. Go do other stuff. I mean, I do check on it from time to time, give it a stir and a taste, maybe adjust the seasoning. But the standing around, bent over a cutting board? That crap is over. I gave it an hour, maybe more. The biggest thing was making sure the beans were good and tender.

Actually, forget what I just said. THIS is my favorite part of chili making...

You know, the eating.

We had some for dinner, and lunch the next day. The rest I stored in a freezer bag. I'll be super grateful to thaw that out, some chilly night this fall. (See what I did there? That joke's for my Dad.)

Yeah, it took a while, but most of that time was spent sitting on my butt. And it's so worth it, to have real-life-from-scratch chili! I bet this would be awesome in a crock pot too. If I had a crock pot. Are you listening, Santa?

I close, dear readers, by begging for your favorite freezable recipes. I've got two weeks until school starts and I need to do some hoarding. Recommendations?

Updated Aug. 10: Pints? Pounds? Whatever! Read what you write, girl.

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I'm so mean I can't even stand myself

Maybe it's the cosmos punishing me, for bragging on this blog about how much my lady problems have eased. Because this week, I'm in hell. I start work in less than two weeks, and still haven't seen the textbook from which I'm supposed to prep a class. And this morning, I stepped on a bug. Some kind of GIANT MUTANT bug. In my bare feet. A steaming shower didn't un-gross-me-out.

*Shudder*

I'm also stinging from another gumbo mega-fail. I don't know what my problem is either. I learned to make gumbo last summer, and my very first batch came out awesome. Every attempt since then has gone to hell. Beginner's luck I guess.

Now a disclaimer. Any proper Louisiana cook would probably give me a slap for what I call gumbo. For one thing, I don't use a roux. I know. I too felt that rush of wind as the whole gulf coast just gasped. I tried it a few times, and it turned into the nastiest gloop you've ever seen. So, I just rely on the rice for thickening. Don't even get me started on the "right" sausage...

Anyway, as of this week I hadn't given up yet. Okra's in high season right now, so I nutted up and bought some. Now for, ahem, "gumbo." Everything seemed in order...

Andouille

Chicken 

(Not pictured because raw chicken looks gross)

Onion, celery, bell pepper, garlic

Okra

Anaheim, serrano, and red and green jalapeno

All slow cooked with chicken stock, and mixed with rice at the very end.

Spicy and savory... 

It was really good when it was fresh.

Looks good, right?

But by the next day, when I heated up some leftovers for lunch, it had turned into an icky mess. Shoot me. If I could just remember exactly what I did that first attempt... Too bad I wasn't blogging all my cooking at the time.

The worst news is, I made a shitload. I kinda had to, in order to use up all that okra. If you put it in the freezer before you add rice, it's supposed to keep for a couple of months. Now I'm worried when I thaw that base, it's gonna be inedible. Sigh... Obviously, I'll need to be ready with a backup when it's gumbo time again.

There's always Papa Johns I guess.

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Mm mm peach cobbler

Hooray for summer!

Hooray, because, this is the best time of year for fresh, seasonal cooking. Tomatoes, peppers, green beans, okra -- all kinds of yummies in abundance!

This being Georgia, y'all can well imagine the peaches. I can smell them walking around the farmer's market. Sweet and tender and two-napkin juicy. And even though I know I'm running the risk of spoilage and waste, I can never resist the bursting half-peck paper bags. They call to me.

Miiisssty...

So despite the heat I was inspired to bake last night. Baking at night = not unbearably miserable. Chef Google hooked me up with this recipe for fresh peach cobbler, and get this: I even tinkered a little. I'm gettin brave y'all.

So here we go: I set out a stick of butter in a 2-quart casserole to start getting soft.

Total health food here

Then I put a huge, covered pot of water on medium. Once it was boiling I dropped in 5 peaches and let them go, covered, for 5 minutes. Meanwhile I added 1/2 cup sugar to my large mixing bowl, which got me to thinking. I bet a teaspoon of cinnamon would be brilliant in there. Only one way to know for sure right?

Looks brilliant!

When the peaches were sufficiently boiled I transferred them to a big bowl of ice water, where I left them for another 5 minutes. After that, the skins just fell off. Sweet. Then I sliced up 2 and 1/2 cups' worth, which was 4 and a half large peaches. I ate the leftover half, and gently combined the slices with the sugar mixture.

Screw the cobbler. Gimme a spoon!

At this point I turned the oven on 350° to pre-heat and set the peach filling aside for a few minutes. I sifted 3/4 cup of flour with 2 teaspoons of baking powder, while I melted the butter in the microwave.

NOTE: Here you see the biggest challenge I faced with this here cobbler. That would be finding a surface in my kitchen level enough that all the butter didn't run into one corner of the casserole.

I actually had to make shims.

Then I added a cup of sugar and 3/4 cup of milk to the flour mixture. The recipe instructs, "Pour batter over melted butter. Do not mix or stir together." So that's what I did, even though...

Is it just me, or is this kinda gross?

Then it says pour the peach mixture over the top of that. Okay... That helped...

Is it just me, or is this kinda awesome?

Then it went into the oven for about an hour. The house filled up with the cinnamon fragrance. My tummy growled like a sasquatch. And this came out:

Makes me think of church potlucks in my youth.

By the time it had cooled about 20 minutes, I could wait no longer. Into a bowl with a scoop of vanilla. I almost fell off the couch.

Oh. So. Worth. The effort.

Two things:

One, Doug promised if I made this he would try some. But he better get on the stick, because I can't stay the hell out of it. He may find it all devoured before he works up his nerve.

Two, this actually doesn't remind me of the church ladies' cobblers from back in the day. I remember a crust that was flaky and crisp, kinda pie-like. This has a cakey crust -- a lot like pancake, in fact. Which is not a complaint, just a "wonder" I guess. I wonder what kind of batter I'd need to get that old-school crispy cobbler?

Probably a really difficult one. But I'd love your suggestions!

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Thanks Mom!

 A knock at my door last week startled the crap out of me. Who could it be?

"UPS delivery."

Huh? I haven't ordered anything...

But check this out. My adorable mom, home shopping addict she is, had sent me a lil som' som' -- stackable green boxes. Sweet!

Bless her!

I'm a sucker for these green boxes. A lot of that As Seen On TV crap is, well... you know... crap. But these actually do what they promise: keep food fresher longer. Especially awesome since I'm a farmer's market shopper. Perfectly ripe peaches will go bad on the counter in a couple of days. In a green box, they've stayed good up to two weeks!

So thanks mom. Even though you turned me into an info-mercial. Teehee.

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Beef and broccoli for cheaters

You know how sometimes, you get to the end of the week, and you don't want to deal with the grocery store, but you still have to cook, because -- well, you know -- you're hungry? That can't be just me, can it? I hope not, because it sure happens around here, allthefreakintime.

When it does, I find myself with my head in the fridge, inspecting the slim pickings, and trying to imagine how they all might go together. It doesn't always work out. Sometimes a grocery run is totally unavoidable. I thought I'd come to that point with this dish, before I figured out a cheat.

So what did I find when I raided the fridge?

These veggies...

and this meat.

Broccoli, onion, garlic, and beef -- making Cantonese style beef and broccoli an obvious choice. Except that Chef Google was adamant that authentic beef and broccoli required ingredients I didn't have. Well screw it then. I was gonna have to cheat.

Beef and broccoli for cheaters

First I put on some long-grain white rice, according to package directions. Then I set a skillet over medium to preheat. Last, I started heating about 2 inches of lightly salted water in my stove-top steamer.

Forgive me, folks, for the gross lack of pictures here. A three-burner project is a lot to manage, especially when I'm starved and cranky. But wouldn't I be a condescending bitch if I explained how to steam broccoli anyway? Just go with me...

Once the skillet was hot I added a tablespoon or two of sesame oil and brought that up to temperature. Meanwhile I was slicing up the beef into thin strips.

They call this cutting "on the bias." Why not just "diagonal?"

I used cubed steak for this particular dish. I like it because I find it on sale pretty often, and it's useful for a variety of applications. If I ever master chicken-fried steak, for example, you'll be sure to see this ingredient again.

I also broke down the broccoli into florets, and the onion into smallish slices. The garlic, I minced.

By the time all that chopping was done, my steamer water was boiling and my sesame oil was sizzling. So, into the oil went the thin-sliced beef with a bit of salt and pepper. The broccoli went into the top tier of the steamer.

I let the beef get slightly brown before tossing in onion and garlic.

Imagine the burst of aroma!

After a minute or two I turned the heat to low, and proceeded with my cheat. I had about 1/4 of a bottle of oyster sauce in the fridge, which I dumped in the pan.

I'm guessing this is not authentic.

Before long, my broccoli was getting done steaming: bright green and just fork tender. I stirred that into the skillet, and realized I had two problems. One, there wasn't enough sauce to coat everything. Two, I wasn't really digging on the flavor I'd created.

The solution to both problems came in the form of some soy sauce, lemon juice, and ground ginger. I couldn't begin to tell you how much of each of these went in there. I just kept sprinkling and tasting until I was happy. But when all was said and done, damn I was happy!

Except with this picture. 

But overcooking was not an option.

I served the beef and broccoli with the long-grain rice I breezed over earlier. Which? Led to an important discovery. If you want a good, sticky, chopstick-friendly rice, you gotta skip the butter called for on the rice package! Duh, I guess. But, live and learn...

Not bad for a dirty cheater

Doug flat freaked out over this. And it was super yummy, if I do say so myself. Guess I ought to fix Chinese more often. Only next time I'd like to try a more authentic approach.

Last thought: even though this dish uses three burners, it's an ideal summer dinner. The whole thing took no longer than 25 minutes, brilliantly limiting the heat I kicked out. Hooray for late-week desperation dishes. They are my enduring inspiration.

What inspires you to try new things?

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Sunday brunch: Black bean frittata

"You've been quiet," said Gina in a text exchange yesterday.

I know. Stuff going on, man. Class prep, Tour de France, and using the laptop as a DVD player have cut severely into my blogging time.

Sadly, Lance Armstrong got his ass handed to him on Sunday. But I hold out hope for Levi Leipheimer, maybe Cadel Evans. Actually anyone but that dick Alberto Contador. Because you guys sooo care about the Tour de France. Anyway...

Also on Sunday I decided to try a certifiably snooty-sounding late breakfast: black bean frittata. Well, actually I decided that on Saturday night, which is good because dry beans have to soak.

Black Bean Frittata

 What I used:

• 1/2 cup dry black beans
• 2-3 tbsp olive oil
• About 1/3 cup each onion and bell pepper
• About 1/4 cup tomato
• 4 eggs
• Splash of milk
• Tasty herbs and spices (I know I used marjoram, garlic powder, salt, and black pepper.)
• Handful of mozzarella

So like I said this recipe started on Saturday night, when I measured out and sorted a half cup of black beans. Theoretically, sorting beans just means making sure you get all the rocks out. I also prefer to pull out any broken or shriveled beans -- they just don't cook up right in my experience.

 Yuck

Next I give them a good rinse right in the pot.

Still feeling for rocks, by the way

Then pour off the rinse water.

 Also still checking for broken beans

Now the beans go back in the pot with 2 cups of cold water. I stuck a lid on there and left it to soak overnight.

First thing Sunday morning, I did another quick rinse and sort, before adding a fresh 2 cups of water. Then the pot went on the stove with its lid tilted. I simmered the beans over low heat for about 2 hours. Now you see what makes this a lovely brunch, but a lousy breakfast. That is, unless you pre-cook the beans or (gasp) just open a can.

The picture with the lid was useless.

Fast forward through a couple of hours of Tour de France coverage. Now, I know the ingredients gave actual measurements for these veggies, but I have to admit that was pretty much a guess. "What was left in the fridge" sounded super lame, despite its truth. How about...

...this much?

I poured a generous amount of olive oil into an enameled iron skillet. Then I let it get hot enough for a sprinkle of black pepper to sizzle.

Possibly the best trick I ever learned

Meanwhile I combined the eggs, milk, and spices. Basically it's just like mixing up scrambled eggs, except for the addition of the garlic powder and marjoram. Into the skillet went the onion and green pepper.

Just the lightest sautee

Next went the tomatoes and about half* of the black beans.

Don't waste time here, lest the tomatoes turn to goop.

As soon all those ingredients were stirred together good, I poured in the egg mixture.

Okay, this bit isn't tricky, but kinda hard to describe (and a nightmare to photograph). Basically, once the outside edges of the egg get solid, you want to carefully run your spatula between the egg and the skillet. Then gently pull the solid egg away from the edge, and let the liquid part from the middle run down in there.

The best of probably 15 pictures

Making frittata is basically repeating this step over and over. I stopped when the most dramatic pan-tilting no longer produced any eggy runoff.

Almost done!

Next, I sprinkled on a generous helping of mozzarella, and some parsley to make it pretty.

In hindsight, I shoulda used basil.

Here's why I love that enameled cast iron. It's small across, but deep, which is perfect for this recipe. It has a nonstick coating inside, but not a wussy one like T-Fal or whatever. You can even use metal utensils in it! Most important, it's safe to put in the toaster oven.

Rapidly becoming my new BFF in the kitchen

It just takes two or three minutes to melt the cheese. And then?

Mmmm... melty...

I cut it into quarters and served it with some crazy farmer's market bread Doug picked out.

So this bread? Had seeds in it! I felt so betrayed.

But who was I kidding with that one-egg portion? I went back for seconds without a second thought.

One important note: I meant what I said above about using basil. I mean, this was yummy and all, but my mouth could just imagine a little extra, awesome kick. Sadly, I'm not convinced Doug was as impressed as I had hoped he'd be. Next time, if there is a next time, basil is in.

I am sad to report, by the time I finished typing this, Cadel Evans cracked on the slopes of the Alps, falling out of contention in the Tour de France. Gonna have to put my money on Alex Andy* Schleck I guess. Cuz I'm serious. Anyone but Contador. That guy is a dick.

*Edited July 17: My husband read this post, and called me out on two bonehead mistakes. I only used about half the cooked beans in our frittata. We had the rest later as burrito filling. Also, it's Andy, not Alex, Schleck. Oops...

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