FOOD ON THE FOOD

Coleslaw: Deconstructing My Pulled Pork Sandwich

Now that you have my recipe for pulled pork, let's sliiiide that bun over and talk about the coleslaw. Because you're probably getting lots of cabbage in your CSA shares right about now. You know you are!

Husband loves coleslaw, specifically my coleslaw. It's one of the reasons he keeps me around. For my part, I put up with him because of his tremendous dishwashing skills and the fact that he eats my coleslaw. That's not something every guy likes, you know? Coleslaw and piles of dirty dishes? My prince!

Coleslaw (print-friendly version)

In reality, I eyeball all the measurements, and it comes out slightly differently each time but always good.

1 pound cabbage, red or green, cored, shredded
1 carrot, peeled, grated
1/2 small onion, finely chopped
1/2 cup mayo
2 tablespoons rice vinegar
Kosher salt
Lots and lots of freshly ground black pepper

Set the shredded cabbage in a colander set over a plate, and sprinkle it all over with about 1 teaspoon of kosher salt. Let it sit for an hour or two to wilt. The cabbage will become increasingly wet as it releases its liquid. I like to gently squeeze it dry a bit with a towel as I transfer it to a bowl, fistful by fistful. Having the veggies not be sopping wet helps the dressing cling better instead of sliding off into the bottom of the bowl. Squeeze the shredded carrot over the sink and then add to the cabbage.

In a small bowl, whisk the mayo with the vinegar. Add lots of black pepper, but hold off on the salt for now. You may not need much or any. Toss the vegetables with the dressing. Taste for seasoning and add more salt and pepper if necessary. Let chill in the refrigerator. Stir again just before serving.

Local Ingredients:
Cabbage, carrots: Waltham Fields Community Farm, Waltham, MA

Pancakes (and Parentheses)

I haven’t cooked that much this week due to a looming deadline I foolishly thought I’d be up for.  (Note to self: Get your life in order first.  You have all the time in the world for this kind of stuff later.  Maybe.) 

Happily, Husband made his famous Eat Local blueberry pancakes (along with Codman Farm bacon) for dinner last night, or “brinner” as the First Grader likes to call it.  I always find the act of eating pancakes to be not only delicious but therapeutic.  My ritual has been the same for as long as I can remember:

Place pat of butter on top of each warm pancake, preferably on a stack three high, to induce at least partial melting (soft, partially melted butter is always better than fully melted butter; cold, hard butter is unacceptable).  Pour maple syrup over the stack, making sure most of it drips down the sides forming pools for dipping.  Gravity has never let me down so far. (Over the years, I’ve settled on the dipping strategy because dry pancakes with the syrup already soaked in might as well have no syrup at all.  You can keep pouring more syrup on top, but it’s just going to keep soaking in.  How big is your maple syrup budget?  My rule of thumb is, if the piece of pancake I’m about to eat doesn’t shine with syrup, then there’s not enough syrup.  (Hence the dipping.)). 

One side of the stack at a time, cut off the edges, dip them, etc. (I tend to cut them into smaller pieces to make the process last as long as possible).  That leaves me with a square stack of interior pancakes soaked with maximum butter, which gets cut into four equal squares (NOT triangles) to mop up the syrup until it’s gone.  Add more syrup to finish off squares.  Note remaining syrup.  Get more pancakes to finish off syrup.  Repeat.  (Pancake-to-syrup ratio is similar to the milk-to-cereal ratio discussed in previous guest post.)

You could analyze this all sorts of different ways, about saving the best for last or trying to exert some control over one’s environment, but I think it’s just that I really like butter and maple syrup.  Needless to say, my manner of pancake consumption drives Husband crazy.  For me, it’s comforting because it reminds me of who I am.  This becomes increasingly important the less physically recognizable I become.  And, who I am, apparently, is someone who likes to subject herself to alternately stressful and euphoric manic writing binges with unreasonable deadlines. 

(And pancakes.)

 

Blueberry Whole Wheat Pancakes

I’m reprising this recipe from a post a few years ago, it’s such a favorite.

4 eggs
2 cups milk
¼ cup vegetable oil
6 Tbsp. butter, melted
1¼ cup whole wheat flour
1¼ cup all-purpose flour
2 Tbsp. baking powder
2 Tbsp. maple sugar
1 tsp. salt
1½ cups frozen blueberries, defrosted

Beat eggs in a large bowl until light and foamy.  Add milk, oil, and butter, and whisk to blend.  Sift dry ingredients over wet ingredients in bowl, and whisk until combined.

Heat nonstick frying pan over medium heat until hot (test by flicking some water into the pan; the water droplets should sizzle vigorously and disappear).  Pour batter into pan in the size you prefer, and sprinkle blueberries over the batter.  Let the pancakes get some color, then flip.  Repeat with remaining batter.  Apply butter and maple syrup, and you’re good to go.

Local Sources:

Eggs, bacon: Codman Farm, Lincoln, MA

Milk: Stonyfield Farm, Londonderry, NH

Butter: Cabot, Cabot, VT

Whole wheat flour: Wood Prairie Farm, Bridgewater, ME (mail order)

Maple sugar: The Warren Farm & Sugarhouse, North Brookfield, MA (Waltham Farmer’s Market)

Blueberries: Wyman’s, Milbridge, ME

Maple syrup: Butternut Mountain Farm, Morrisville, VT

Tortilla Soup for Optimum Marital Health

This recipe for tortilla soup is courtesy of my BFF who really ought to start her own competing food blog since I’m always stealing her recipes.  It’s a good use for any post-Thanksgiving turkey stock you might have on hand.  You did make turkey stock, right?  Right?  If not, please deposit your unwanted turkey carcasses in my mailbox.

It was too dark to take a photo when I first made the soup (I rely heavily on natural light to compensate for my failings as a photographer).  Instead, I fried some extra tortilla strips and set them aside in a little plastic baggie for the next day when I would be recreating the whole experience.  Don’t eat them, I told Husband.  I won’t have time to fry more.  I have a very narrow 8-hour window of daylight in which to work.  Please, for the love of God, don’t mess with them.  Then we went through the usual spousal push and pull involved with trying to verify whether or not the request was heard and would be honored.  In the end, though, he agreed.

Cut to the next day.  I heat up my soup and get ready to apply the appropriate garnishes.  Sour cream?  Check.  Shredded cheese?  Check.  Avocado?  Check.  Tortilla strips?  Che…wait a minute.  Where the hell are they?  They’re not on the counter.  I yell up to Husband.  He insists they’re on the counter, but they’re not.  They’re just not.  I check all the cabinets.  Nothing.

After several maneuvers not unlike trying to dislodge a mule from his favorite resting spot, I manage to get Husband downstairs to confirm that, indeed, there were no tortilla strips on the counter.  Or anywhere.  And now I’m starting to get mad because the sun is poised to do a swan dive into the deep, dark night, and did we not have a whole conversation about this?  I have pretty low standards for photographic composition, but I think tortilla soup should at the very least include some visible tortillas.  And he’s mad because I’m making such a big deal about chips.  Which is clearly not the point at all.

Me: FIND ME THE STRIPS.

Him: They’re not here.  I put them here and they’re not here.  I’m sorry.

Me: THE STRIPS!!!

Him: I put them right here.  It’s not my fault.

Me: STRRRRRRIIIIIIIPS. 

It went back and forth like this for a while.  Voices were raised, several levels of maturity were disproven, in what was shaping up to be one of our worst fights ever.  So this is it, I thought.  The straw that breaks the camel’s back.  Tortilla chips. 

Until…

Him: Oh…oh, wait.  (fixes gaze up over my head)  Now I remember where I put them…

He reaches up on top of one of the blades of the motionless ceiling fan and produces my bag of chips.

Him: I forgot.  I was going to play a trick on you, but I forgot…

Then he ran up the stairs as fast as I’ve ever seen him move. 

The sad thing is, after all that, I couldn’t even get mad about it.  Well, I was a little mad.  The kind of mad where you alternate between sighing and laughing and shaking your head.  His punishment?  You’re looking at it.

 

Tortilla Soup for Optimum Marital Health

Cheaper than counseling and just as ineffective.

¼ cup vegetable oil
4 6-inch corn tortillas, halved and cut into strips

8 6-inch corn tortillas, cut into bite-sized pieces
1 medium onion, chopped
6 garlic cloves, minced
½ cup cilantro, chopped
1 15-oz. can diced tomatoes in juice
6 cups chicken or turkey broth
1 Tbsp. ground cumin
2 tsp. chili powder
2 bay leaves
4 skinless chicken breast halves
¼ tsp. cayenne pepper
2 cups sharp cheddar cheese, shredded
2 avocados, pitted & diced
Sour cream

Heat oil in small skillet. Add tortilla strips in batches, frying until golden.  Drain on paper towels.  Salt well and set aside.

Pour frying oil into large, heavy pot over high heat.  Add tortilla pieces (not the ones you just fried, the other ones), onion, garlic, and cilantro, and sauté about 3 minutes.  Stir in tomatoes with juices, and bring to a boil.  Add broth, cumin, chili powder, and bay leaves.  Return to boil.  Add chicken and cayenne pepper, and reduce heat.  Simmer until chicken is cooked through, about 15 minutes. (I didn’t actually add any chicken here; my homemade broth already contained some shredded chicken.  Not a lot, but enough.)  Remove soup from heat.  Using slotted spoon, remove bay leaves.  Transfer chicken to a plate, and let cool.  Shred chicken and return to soup.  Ladle into bowls.  Top with cheese, avocado, dollop of sour cream, and FRIED TORTILLA STRIPS.

Who Wants to Be a Moron? (Major Appliance Edition)

Well, I’m surprised it took me this long to get to our second installment of Who Wants to be a Moron?, but here we are at last.  As always, the object of the game is for you to make me feel better by providing SPECIFIC scenarios in which you were stupider than I was.

First, let me just say that there’s been a lot of vomit in our house lately.  Just the Toddler’s, but what he lacks in size he makes up for in volume and frequency.  As a result, nobody’s been getting much sleep around here, and the laundry and dishes have been piling up.  Not a good time for a major appliance to break. 

The trouble started with a jeweled goblet (doesn’t it always?).  We got one for each kid at a medieval-themed birthday party over the weekend.  The Preschooler became so enamored with his goblet that he has since requested that all of his beverages be supplied in a vessel encrusted with rhinestones.  Luckily, our entire house is constructed of rhinestones, so this is not a problem.

For some reason that even I can’t understand, it ended up in the dishwasher.  By my own hand.  (The left is blaming the right, and the right is blaming the left, but I know my precious left hand would never do such a thing.)

Does this look dishwasher-safe to you?

How about now?

The gems have mysteriously disappeared, which may explain the horrible grinding sound emanating from the dishwasher motor.  It's worse than fingernails against a chalkboard.  I’m sure the trolls that live deep within the manifold (kin to the sock-stealing trolls that inhabit the dryer) are dancing a gleeful jig right now, proclaiming, “We’re rich!  We’re rich!  We’ll never work again!” 

In the meantime, I’m trying to figure out how to break the news to Husband.  Maybe I’ll just wait until he reads it on my blog!

So, spill it, people.  Has anyone ever destroyed a major appliance in a more idiotic fashion?  Please spare me no details.  I need something to carry me through all of the dishwashing that lies ahead of me.  In keeping with the bacon prize theme, I have some lovely bacon band-aids for the person who has the best story.  Ah, the healing power of pork products…

Carrot Cake for President

Wow.  Three whole days without posting.  That must be some kind of a new record for me.  If you must know, I’ve been very busy honoring our presidents, past and current.  But especially current.  God, I don’t think we’ll ever be able to top him.  Is there any way to keep him in there for a third term?  Any way at all?

Apparently, I’ve chosen to honor our presidents by eating all of the carrot cake I made for Husband for Valentine’s Day.  Presidents like cake, right?  And this exercise of honoring our presidents made me remember just how good this carrot cake is, which is why I’m back with the recipe. 

The single most important thing about this cake from Husband’s perspective is that it’s totally raisin-free.  Not a single raisin in sight, though there are pecans aplenty, which ought to make Jimmy Carter happy (what did he grow again?).  Lucky for FDR, there should be no Pearl Harbor flashbacks since there’s no pineapple or coconut or anything weird like that in here, either.  Just carrots.  Carrots in a cake aren’t weird.  Right, Bill Clinton?  And, of course, it has cream cheese frosting, which is the other obvious requirement.  And if anyone liked cheese, it was Calvin Coolidge.

I always make a habit of doubling frosting recipes.  Even my own, which I had already doubled the last time I made it and probably the time before that.  I hate the idea of running out.  This policy just guarantees that the cake gets better and better every year, just like our presidents.

Husband's Favorite Carrot Cake

1½ cups canola oil
2½ cups sugar
4 eggs, separated
5 Tbsp. hot water
2½ cups flour
1½ tsp. baking powder
½ tsp. baking soda
¼ tsp. salt
1 tsp. nutmeg
1 tsp. cinnamon
½ tsp. cloves
1½ cups grated carrots (about 3)
1 cup chopped pecans

Frosting
½ lb. butter, softened (2 sticks)
1 lb. cream cheese (2 bricks)
1½ lb. confectioner’s sugar

Preheat oven to 350°F.  Grease two 9-inch circular cake pans.  Line bottoms with parchment paper and grease that, too.  Dust with flour by shaking it around the pan until it completely coats the bottom and sides.  Shake excess into the other pan and repeat, emptying the extra flour into the trash.  Set aside.

In a large bowl, mix oil and sugar until well blended.  Beat in the 4 eggs yolks.  Add the hot water and mix well, scraping down the sides.  In a large bowl, sift flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, and spices.  Beat into sugar mixture until just combined.  Stir in carrots and nuts.  Batter will be very thick.

In a medium bowl, beat the egg whites with an electric mixer until stiff peaks form.  Stir about a quarter of the egg whites directly into the batter to lighten it up.  Then, gently fold the rest of the egg whites into the batter.  Pour into cake pans to the same height and bake 50-60 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out pretty cleanly (a few moist crumbs are okay).  Let cool.

To make frosting, whip together butter and cream cheese with an electric mixer.  Add confectioner’s sugar and mix until lumps are no longer of a worrisome size.  This varies from person to person.

To assemble, remove cakes from pans and arrange one cake on a plate.  Spread top with frosting and stack second cake on top.  Frost the sides, then the top.  If you’re getting crumbs in the frosting and it’s pissing you off, do a thin coat of frosting and then refrigerate.  That will lock in the crumbs so that you can use the remaining frosting to give it a final, crumb-free coat.  Decorate attractively.  Or stupidly.  It’s a free country.