A Treat for Dad

It's a pretty well-known fact that I inherited my insatiable sweet tooth (and snacking tenancies) from my father. When I discovered that I would be treated with a Father's Day visit from my parents, I immediately got to work, swapping my cook's hat for that of a baker -- admittedly, a more familiar character for me to play. In keeping with the season, I first decided to whip up some fresh strawberry ice cream. Perhaps that would have been enough, but my inner baker had been pushed to the back burner for too long of late, and she stubbornly insisted I do more. What would satisfy my poor, neglected oven? And what could go with a sweet, creamy ice cream? If you're thinking profiteroles, you're absolutely right. Time to face down the puff pastry challenge.

The ice cream was easy enough to pull together, as the recipe I used did not include egg yolks. Sugar, dairy, and a bit of food-processing later, I had a milky mixture sitting in the refrigerator awaiting its time in the ice cream machine.

Go, chopper, go!

With the main event chilling away, I began my prep for the puffs. The recipe I used suggested using a hand mixer as an alternative to transferring from stove to mixer bowl, so I seized the opportunity to use mine -- or rather, the one I "borrowed permanently" from my mother. It's used so rarely these days, I had almost forgotten why.

Seafood (and Eat It)

Confession: I dislike fish. I can nibble a bit of salmon if it's cooked just right, but put anything else that swims with fins in front of me and I'll politely take a pass. But my aversion to fish is amply compensated for by my love of shellfish and other seafood, namely clams, scallops, mussels, and lately lobster & shrimp. J shares my love of seafood, but is also a fish lover and will happily order mahi-mahi and cod, or will munch away at a tuna sandwich (as far from me as possible).

Needless to say, J has been hounding me to make something of the seafood variety for quite a while. I'm not entirely sure why I've been avoiding it, but late last week I resolved to break my habit of ocean-creature-cooking avoidance. After considering -- and dismissing -- the various possibilities, I decided to go easy on myself and settled on shrimp.

Once I chose the little pink crustacean, I knew what I wanted to make: angel hair pasta with shrimp & veggies in béchamel sauce. I still had some of the peas & carrots from the pot pie, so I figured I could splurge a little bit on the shrimp. And besides, a pasta dish is always a good weapon in an exhausted cook's arsenal, and it was high time I added one to mine.

The speed and timing are what make this dish so pleasant to make, so J quickly set the table while I prepped.

A Balancing Act

I wish I could say that this post included a fabulous towering cake, a perfectly puffed pastry, or at least a stack of gooey cookies. I suspect that at least one of those treats will make an appearance in the future, but right now the balancing act I'm working on isn't nearly as tasty -- or as simple.

I'm talking about balancing time and money. As a relative newcomer to the home cuisine domain, I'm understandably enthusiastic about my hobby and newfound love of all things kitchen. But with that enthusiasm comes a sudden need (read: desire) for new cookbooks, new gadgets, and of course new ingredients. I frequently salivate over exotic dishes and novel techniques, but more often than not these involve food & gear I simply don't have... and certainly can't afford to buy.

This leaves me a little sad, on occasion, as I feel that certain dishes are off-limits to home cooks on a budget just because they include one or two "special" ingredients or ultra-specific gadgets. I'm sure that, with careful management, I'll be able to buy a treat or two. I certainly don't skimp on quality when it really counts (chocolate, anyone?). But someday it would be nice to try the grass-fed fillet, the truffle oil, or the $38-dollar-an-ounce cheese... even if only for one special meal.

As far as budgeting my time goes, lately I've had enough spare moments to make some of the more time-consuming dishes (I'm looking at you, pot pie). But in the very near future that time will be drastically reduced, and I predict that my energy levels won't be far behind. I hope to push through it, get myself motivated, and set some time aside just for me and my kitchen. But if I don't, and I find myself serving salads with a side of mac n' cheese, well... try not to be too hard on me. I will continue to look for new things to make, even if they don't get made right away. And hey, you never know -- maybe I'll end up cooking long into the night, bringing the fruits of my labor to work in the morning! Hollandaise, anyone?

"Peasant Food"

J and I have lately had the pleasure of sharing a delicious meal with some friends while also partaking in some good dinner conversation. It will come as no surprise that the subject of food was a frequent topic, and in the midst of nattering on about copper pots and gas vs. electric, someone dropped in the phrase "peasant food." Fear not, foodie friends, I'm not talking about pseudo-country-style, over-seasoned, baby-portioned, restaurant interpretations of medieval fare. I'm talking about simple ingredients combined in a single dish, the likes of which have been enjoyed by the international middle and lower classes for centuries. Yep, real household versions of much older dishes.

Coincidentally enough, I'd been planning to attempt chicken pot pie as this week's challenge -- a true bit of peasant cooking indeed. So with mild trepidation, I began:

Empty dish awaiting its cargo

Is that pastry dough? From scratch?!

The Sweet Taste of Success

I know plenty of people who will confess to having envy. House, car, career -- any of these can inspire the little green-eyed monster in the best of us. But what about... kitchen envy? Or I guess in this case, gadget envy, which I experience nearly every time I pass by a glittering Fancy la Pants or Chef-Wannabe storefront display filled with every gotta-have-it thingy and whatchamacallit. You know what I'm talking about... toys.

Normally I can resist the siren song of the Kitchen Stuff because I have neither the money to buy them or the space to put them in. But just this once, I answered the call -- with J's full support and approval! It won't take much to understand why when you see...

THIS! Cuisinart 1 1/2 quarts

Home Grown

The kitchen has had a rather slow week, thanks to busy lives and full schedules. When you're cooking and baking for only two, it's easy to make an abundance of goodies that end up partially uneaten -- and this chef really doesn't like wasting good food. So I'm pacing myself, researching new recipes and ideas, and hoping that the summer months bring some friend or family get-togethers and the opportunity to whip up something fun and delicious (hint, hint).

Now, the kitchen may have stood empty more often than not, but that doesn't mean it's been off my mind.

Eating Like a Locavore (Part II)

I'm back on the blog with the conclusion of this week's new meal challenge, and unfortunately, the results are decidedly mixed. I ask J to rate every aspect of each dish individually, and usually only post the overall average score. This week, however, J suggested I give the full breakdown, considering the fairly wide grading margin he gave.

First up was the dish I intended to make: potatoes (remember  Part I?) and baby carrots tossed in a mustard and rosemary sauce. I altered a recipe from a certain domestic queen's magazine, and the actual sauce came out light and flavorful. It pairs well with small golden potatoes, and is absolutely perfection on the carrots.

Whipping up the sauce...

... while simmering the taters and carrots.

Unfortunately, that lovely strong flavor is probably best for someone who loves mustard, lemon juice, and a bit of "bite," and that someone is not J. He initially gave the entire thing a "generous C" but later revised it to a C+ for the sauce and an A- for the perfectly-cooked veggies themselves. Myself, I thought the intense flavor wasn't too overwhelming, but would've tasted better if left to rest and served not-piping-hot. 

Eating Like a Locavore (Part I)

J and I are fortunate to live in an area with one of the best "locavore" communities -- for the uninitiated, the term refers to a person who prefers to eat foods grown or raised locally, as opposed to sourced from long distances. In fact, our weekly Farmer's Market opened for the season last weekend, and we finally had the chance to check it out today. Why eat local? Well, aside from the obvious lower-carbon-footprint advantage, the food is super fresh, typically hormone-free, often from family farms, and offers a better value than supermarket stuff. While we don't choose to eat exclusively local, we both prefer the combined benefits of helping the community and eating better.

So today, we set out to explore the market with an eye for a new recipe for the week, and to start pricing some things we haven't tried yet. Last year we stuck to mainly fruits and veggies (with some wine and maple syrup thrown in for good measure), but I'd like to try out the grass-fed meats and free-range eggs soon. We happen to have a very good butcher shop/market in our area that we've relied on for meat products for a while, but it would be nice to make a truly local-sourced meal this summer.

After making the circuit once to get a feel for what the sellers had to offer, I honed in immediately on this display of potatoes:

Look at 'em all! 

From the folks at Heron Pond Farm

I had a recipe in mind already for this week, and seeing these gorgeous golden taters just sealed the deal. In the bag they went.

(Secret) Family Recipes

One of the greatest obstacles I face in taking on this challenge is our wacky, ever-changing schedule and the havoc it wreaks on our meals. With a pilot for a husband, there are some days I'm sure about, some days I'm not, and a whole lot of "maybe" in between. J's schedule takes him away more often than not, so the time we do have together is precious -- but that doesn't stop life from happening. All efforts to the contrary, we can't always eat dinner at home (or together, for that matter) and we have learned to celebrate holidays and life events when it's convenient, not when they're supposed to happen.

This is the second year in a row that J has been away for both of our birthdays. Happily, I was lucky enough to spend mine with both of my parents this year, a rare treat indeed. They certainly know how to brighten my day (food and shopping are pretty safe bets).

A lovely birthday bouquet. Thanks, guys!

I thought I'd take advantage of my cooking lull to mention the influence my parents have had on my relationship with food and cooking. I know I already discussed  my mother (and her apron) here, but I neglected to show off my little treasure chest of the classic family recipes I learned while growing up.

There's something special about the notion of a family recipe -- or better yet, the secret family recipe. It sounds so mysterious, lending an otherwise simple dish a status it wouldn't normally enjoy. I'm fortunate to have a number of these little gems in my make-it-in-my-sleep arsenal, and have made many of them with great success. I do play favorites, however, and I have one from each parent that I make with pride to share -- but never share the recipe.

The treasure chest

Sunday is Baking Day

In between cleaning the bedroom and working on a curriculum proposal, I managed to squeeze in a little bit of baking. I chose something easy and fast: spritz cookies. Actually, I'd only heard they were easy and fast, since I've never made them before. Happily, these little cookies lived up to their reputation.

The main reason I had yet to attempt this recipe was a lack of tools. One must use a cookie press to spritz the dough through a disc, thereby making a pretty and consistent shape... and I didn't have one. But through the wonders of wedding gifts and pair of psychic **friends , I received this. I've been meaning to put it to good use, and finally seized the opportunity.

A match made in kitchen heaven