A Recipe for Success

People who like to cook like to talk about food....without one cook giving another cook a tip or two, human life might have died out a long time ago.


- Laurie Colwin
I still haven't been doing much in the way of cooking - and by "much", I mean virtually nothing. This is not to say we haven't had great meals - or that the notions of food and cooking have disappeared from my radar. I'm still obsessed with new recipes, meal planning, and consuming delicious dishes. It's simply that my obsessions have recreated themselves in a new manner of sorts.

I recently switched magazine subscriptions, so instead of my monthly Food & Wine, I now await the arrival of Real Simple and Everyday Food (not to mention the pass-along copies of Southern Living, Better Homes & Gardens, and Ladies Home Journal that my mom gives me once she has finished them). I have a system for reading magazines. The publications that are combinations of recipes, home tips, and stories are saved in the rack for a rainy day - but the ones dedicated to food and recipes receive a special sort of attention. I won't begin reading one until I know I have the time to enjoy it cover to cover. I dog-ear pages that I want to return to, add to my list of must-cook recipes, and make mental notes about which dishes I want to try first.

In addition to reading about food, I've taken to conducting a sort of cooking school in my kitchen. My husband loves to cook, and until recently has rarely been given the reins when it comes to preparing our meals. He is now in charge of dinner most nights, and breakfast and lunch on the weekends. This means I sit nearby, tossing out directions for the recipes he isn't as familiar with, and throwing suggestions his way that he probably doesn't need or want. The results have been incredible - biscuits & gravy from scratch, beef stroganoff, pan-seared salmon, pot roast hash with crispy roasted potatoes....the list goes on and on.

My odd cravings have also led us to many different restaurants around town - a late afternoon craving for sushi led us to one of our favorite spots, where I forlornly passed over the "real" sushi and settled for a cucumber roll. The need for smoked chicken ravioli took us to Amerigo's, the desire for a BLT and a spicy, salty pickle to a nearby deli.

Obviously, Thanksgiving weekend will provide plenty of additional food fodder - I'm responsible for macaroni & cheese and rolls at lunch with one set of family members, and pies for dinner with another. I've read many recipes, and assuming I can get my husband to help, I should be set.

A Change Will Do You Good

Life is always at some turning point.
- Irwin Edman



The past few months have consisted of many changes in our life and our routines. It obviously began when I quit my job, which affected us in many more ways than we could have anticipated - both good and bad. We went from riding to work together, working together, riding home from work together, and discussing work together, to seeing each other in the mornings and evenings and being able to discuss items outside of the other's realm.


The housework and errand system we'd set up was altered as well - since I was at home, I took care of it. Gone were the Saturday mornings trying to catch up on laundry, Saturday afternoons polishing the floors and sweeping the porch, the Sunday afternoons at the grocery store and Sunday evenings bathing the dogs. We now enjoy lazy weekends doing anything and everything we want, without guilt over what responsibilites may be falling by the wayside.


Without a doubt, the largest change we are experiencing is yet to come - but we are in the midst of preparing both mentally and emotionally for the increase in the size of our family. This not only means there are no more evenings spent enjoying a glass of wine with dinner (for me, anyway), but it now encompasses so much more.


The one thing that has been affected most by each of these changes is the way we eat. First and foremost, my being at home during the day has allowed for more home cooked meals, new recipes, and increased creativity in the kitchen. Breakfasts and lunches became more than a matter of convenience. I was able to delve into the piles of recipes in my "to cook" list.


Now, the way we eat has taken yet another turn. My queasy stomach, combined with the immense fatigue I've been experiencing, has removed me from the kitchen and put my husband in charge of meals- which has more often than not been little more than a can of soup and fruit (or whatever it may be that I can stomach at the time).


But finally - finally - I felt the desire to get into the kitchen on Friday. Our Friday evenings used to be spent decompressing from the week, relaxing and basking in the glow of knowing we could sleep in the next morning. This past Friday actually felt like that again - my husband brought home new records for us to play, we chatted about our week while we snacked on cheese, crackers, and smoked trout - all while a pot of roasted red pepper soup simmered on the stove. I got back in the kitchen, and it felt great...for a change.


Roasted Red Pepper Soup
1 stick butter
1/2 onion, chopped
1 tsp. minced garlic
2-12 oz. jars roasted red peppers
2 tomatoes, diced
14 oz. can tomato sauce
2 cups chicken stock
1 cup heavy cream
Basil, oregano, salt & pepper (to taste)


- Melt butter in skillet; add onion and garlic and saute until onions are tender

- Combine onions, red peppers, tomatoes, tomato sauce, and chicken stock in large pot; add seasonings to taste and simmer for about 25-30 minutes.

- Using an immersion blender, puree mixture until creamy

- Add heavy cream and let simmer another 5-10 minutes

The Newest Addition

The primary requisite for writing well about food is a good appetite.
- A. J. Liebling

I feel it coming back - the desire to get back into the kitchen. I have a grocery list written that does not contain ginger ale, crackers, or chicken broth - and this afternoon will be spent trying some new recipes that I'll be sure to share.

In the meantime, I have a new blog under my ever expanding belt - I'll be updating baby news there, while keeping Any Little Reason purely about food. The Littlest Reason is up and running, for anyone interested in hearing me ramble about something other than my culinary preferences.

To Eat, or Not To Eat

So where did these cravings come from? I concluded it's the baby ordering in. Prenatal takeout. Even without ever being in a restaurant, fetuses develop remarkably discerning palates, and they are not shy about demanding what they want. If they get a hankering, they just pick up the umbilical cord and call. 'You know what would taste good right now? A cheeseburger, large fries, and a vanilla shake. And if you could, hurry it up, because I'm supposed to grow a lung in a half hour.

- Paul Reiser, 'Babyhood'

At this point, I don't know what is stronger - the cravings or the aversions. The constant nausea (whoever coined the phrase "morning sickness" apparently never experienced midday sickness, late afternoon sickness, evening sickness, and in-the-dead-of-night sickness) is only eased by allowing food to pass my lips every two hours. It's the most bizarre sensation to use food to comfort a stomach on the verge - and yet, it's the only thing that works (resulting heartburn aside).

I'm snacking between meals on applesauce, crackers with peanut butter, fruit, cheese, and carrot sticks - the only things that sound appealing. As far as meals go, there is a short list of options - cereal, soup, waffles, grilled cheese - with the occasional wild card thrown in, such as tacos, beef stroganoff, german potato salad.

Enter the aversions - there are the foods that I've always loved, that have been my go-to meals in a pinch - that send me reeling at the mere mention or thought of them. Eggs, chicken, pizza, pasta...

The scariest and saddest thing for me at this point is my pure avoidance of the kitchen. I have no desire to cook, I extract no joy from planning meals and flipping through my favorite cookbooks, and I'm lacking both the energy and the capacity to stand in front of the stove while enduring the smells and sights before me.

Everything I've read and heard leads me to believe this will soon pass - and I'm encouraged that will be true.

The Days of our Lives

Ponder well on this point: the pleasant hours of our life are all connected by a more or less tangible link, with some memory of the table.

- Charles Pierre Monselet

We all have them - the days that we count as significant and meaningful, that we celebrate year after year. The most obvious of these are birthdays and anniversaries, but there are others that can be included in the history of who we are.

August 25th, 2005 is the day I'll always remember as the first time I saw the man that would become my husband, while October 27th of the same year holds a place as the first time we had a conversation and I realized he was the one.

By January of 2006, we were all but living together - and we signed the papers on the purchase of our first home six months later, on June 30th.

Almost a year later, on June 6, he asked me to be his wife - and on September 29th, 2007, we stood before friends and family to say our vows and begin our lives as a married couple.

Now, we have a new date to add to the list.

June 19, 2009 - the due date of our first child.

Turned Off

Once you get into the groove of things and in the mood you are usually fine; it is before the event that you get nervous and irritable.

- John Gallagher

I am uninspired. I am uncertain as to what's causing it, therefore unable to undo it. Lately, I can only summon the energy to eat out, order in, or throw together the simplest of meals. Breakfast is a bowl of cereal with fruit, or toast with apple butter. Gone are the biscuits and gravy made from scratch, the quiches, pancakes. Lunches have consisted of BLT's, grilled cheese sandwiches, cans of organic soup heated up and eaten standing over the sink. Midafternoon snacks have returned in the form of popcorn, peanut butter & crackers, fruit, and ice cream. Dinner is Chinese takeout, a taco bar thrown together just in time for Monday Night Football, or pot pies.

I open the fridge or freezer on a daily basis, and I see brisket, tilapia, filets, sweet potatoes and fresh produce light up with the prospect of being plucked from their perch. I then plunge them back into darkness as I reach only for a bottle of water.

I hope this passes soon - I long for the day that the urge to tie on an apron and spend hours in the kitchen overcomes me. I anticipate the late afternoon question of "What's for dinner" - and instead of the blank stares I emit currently, I am eager to be filled with inspiration and desire to create something new, or at the very least, an old favorite.

Weekend Report

Weekends don't count unless you spend them doing something completely pointless.

- Bill Watterson

* Our youngest dog, Chet, following a walk

We typically spend our weekends balancing between work and play. Despite our best efforts, we do not have the ability to simply relax and be lazy for long periods of time. We inevitably come up with a project, or we schedule plans to the point that we're going nonstop.

This weekend, however, we allowed ourselves to be completely lazy. We slept late, took long walks with our dogs, watched football, and ate. And ate.

Friday night we went to Margot, one of our favorite restaurants. We enjoyed hand-cut potato chips with creamy aioli while we waited for our entrees - pan roasted chicken with a potato cake atop creamy leeks for me, fettucine with turkey meatballs for him.

Saturday we went out to my mom's to watch football - and in typical fashion, we ate until we were stuffed. We snacked on salty roasted peanuts, spicy crab spread, tangy cheese dip, and buttery popcorn while we waited for the chili to reach its perfect harmony of flavor. Following that, I wouldn't have thought I'd be hungry for the rest of the day, but later that night we had a quick and comforting dinner of BLT's (with the last of our sweet red tomatoes) and macaroni & cheese.

Sunday morning came in the form of biscuits slathered with butter and apple butter, along with sliced strawberries. After a walk in the crisp fall air, feeling our faces warmed by the afternoon sun, we settled in for a few hours of football watching before we fired up the grill for dinner. Within ten minutes, we had a tender flat iron steak resting on the cutting board waiting to be carved, served alongside corn sauteed in lime, cilantro, and paprika, as well as edamame tossed in sea salt.

The sense of accomplishment we normally feel after a weekend of projects pales in comparison to the sense of contentment we feel today, knowing that we simply enjoyed ourselves, each other, and our meals.

The Glass is Always Half Full

There comes a time in every woman's life when the only thing that helps is a glass of champagne.

- Bette Davis in Old Acquaintance

I am blessed. I am fortunate enough to have a rock-solid group of girlfriends. I can recall the exact moment I met each of them, the first time we cried together, the addresses of the crappy apartments we shared, and all of the relationships that brought us all to this point.

We are all quite different - yet all so similar that we can finish each other's sentences, can laugh hysterically at the same dumb jokes, and can annoy our spouses & significant others for the same reasons. No matter how much time has passed since we've all been in the same room together, it takes mere seconds to pick up where we left off - which usually means holding a glass of champagne.

Our tradition of "Champagne Saturdays" started years ago. One Saturday morning we were all nursing a hangover from a girl's night out the evening prior, so we decided that we needed breakfast. We stumbled upon a place that had great food and cheap Mimosas - and we sat there for hours in our pajamas, calling attention to our table with bouts of laughter and accusations about who did what the night before. After we paid our checks, we decided the best way to ease into the afternoon was - you guessed it - more champagne. I don't think a single one of us could have foreseen the impact this would make on our lives for years to come.

Champagne Saturday has become a sacred encounter, enhanced over the years by the addition of new friends, new homes, and new recipes - and most certainly, new life phases. We've seen marriages, children, new jobs, and new pajamas - but the formula never changes, aside from the fact that we've now allowed it to fall on any given day.

Yesterday was no exception. Our friend Hillary is getting married in less than two weeks, so in typical fashion, we honored this next step in her life with a champagne brunch. I have no photos to document the spread we had, but as is usually the case, we had all the standbys - good food, amazing friends, and champagne glasses that are never empty.

(Photo courtesy of platinumplanet.co.uk)

If Loving You is Wrong, I Don't Wanna be Right

Well, if you put it that way, I think you’ve got a point. Have another biscuit, sorry.
- Eddie Izzard

I hate to admit it when I'm wrong. The defiance I experience when I realize I've misspoken, or argued a point to death - only to realize I won't win the debate - presents itself in a very stubborn, pouty-mouthed apology and the admission that maybe I am mistaken.

When I was younger, my parents dealt with my ability to stand firm when I believed in something, even it were blatantly obvious to be false. They coined me "the little lawyer" and swore I'd have a career in the courtroom. One of my long-standing nicknames is "sassafras", due to my tendency to toss attitude in the general direction of anyone on the other side of the fence.

When I'm faced with the realization that I am incorrect, I have to dig deep to find the ability to step down and confess defeat. I employ distraction tactics at rapidfire speed, hoping to deter my opponent and cause forgetfulness of the issue at hand. The most surefire tactic I've found is food.

Knowing each of my husband's favorite foods, I'm prone to stockpiling the ingredients necessary on the chance that I'll be faced with the possibility of a discussion on the downward spiral. I can argue while I cook, so it's a matter of continuing to save face while I prepare one of his guilty pleasures or comfort foods. This method also allows the ability to stall, because he knows better than to interrupt me if I'm mumbling to myself about whether a dish needs salt or contemplating if it needs another three minutes in the oven.

He's like a kid who just met the Tooth Fairy when he sees me pulling out the makings for biscuits and gravy, and I can usually count on turning away from the stove to see him sitting on a barstool at our island, gazing at me adoringly and awaiting what's to come. In an instant, he's given up on trying to prove his case, and he's content that in mere minutes, he'll have a mouthful of delicate biscuits topped with a creamy peppery gravy generously studded with aromatic sausage.

So right.

Biscuits & Gravy

1 lb. sausage, 3 tbsp. butter and flour, 3 cups milk

- Brown sausage in large skillet, remove and drain, reserving drippings

- Add butter and flour to skillet and combine to form a roux, then add milk and stir constantly, scraping up the brown bits from the pan

- Once mixture has thickened, add sausage, salt & pepper to taste, and stir to combine. Serve over warm biscuits (I take the lazy way out and make White Lily frozen biscuits - they are incredibly good.)

Take Five

The ambition of every good cook must be to make something very good with the fewest possible ingredients.
- Urbain Dubois

I read today that “You’re a combination of the five people you spend the most time with.” For me, that evokes a combination of fear and relief. These emotions present themselves in the same sense that they do with my parents – being afraid that I’ve inherited only the bad qualities from both, while being glad that there are good qualities in each to which I’ve been exposed. Unfortunately, these things aren’t like items on a buffet line – “Yes, I’ll have some of the humor…but I think I’ll pass on the temper today”, but I do think it’s possible to learn from what you see in the people around you and then make the choice on whether or not to let them integrate your personality.

For instance, I know that if I had the opportunity to adopt my husband’s positive nature and ability to enter a room and change the atmosphere within seconds, thereby drawing people in and making them happier, I’d take it. On the flip side, if I am faced with taking on the characteristic of my mother and how easily she gets ruffled (that is, if I don’t already possess that quality), I’d politely decline. All in all, I know that the five people I spend the most time with – my husband, my friend Jessi, my mother and her husband, and our animals (do they count?) – I’d undoubtedly be pleased at the concoction which would result from very different and unique perspectives, tastes, and personalities.

On a similar note, think of the five ingredients you use most, or the five meals you eat most. Couldn’t these be taken into consideration the same way people are? They are based on your choosing (and I’m led to believe most of us have the ability to choose who we spend time with, as opposed to being forced into companionship); they are more likely than not all the same, or at the very least they’ll have some notable differences; they are undoubtedly called up for different reasons, based on different moods; and they are always reliable and available.

On any given day, you can look in my kitchen and find the following five items: chicken broth, edamame, pasta, cheese, and sweet potatoes. This does not include the snack staples such as tortilla chips, popcorn, and fruit. I’m talking about ingredients that I always have on hand. Now, obviously these are not ingredients that could necessarily be thrown together to create a meal. Close, but not quite…and a meal comprised of those five things is certainly not balanced.

In terms of the five meals we eat most in our house, based on convenience, ease, and most importantly, preference, I’d quickly rattle off chicken pot pie, baked pasta, steaks, salmon, and beef stroganoff. This certainly doesn’t mean we eat nothing but those five things – but on average, that’s what pops up the most. Reason? We can pull each of them together in less than 30 minutes, with little effort and minimal cleanup afterwards.

There's also the matter of the 5-ingredient meal - this has almost become a game in our home, a challenge of sorts - especially when it's time for a trip to the grocery store or farmer's market and I'm trying to cull together a meal with the odds and ends we have around the house. This recipe came about on such a night.

Steakhouse Stuffed Potato

Medium baking potatoes scrubbed and pierced several times with a fork
Steaks (any cut you prefer I used filets)
Crumbled blue cheese
Prepared horseradish
Butter
Salt & pepper to taste

- Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Bake potatoes until tender, approximately 35 minutes.
- Meanwhile, grill or pan sear steaks to preferred level of doneness (I did medium-rare) and slice into thin strips.
- Remove baked potatoes from oven and allow to cool briefly, then slice the top of the potato lengthwise and scoop out the pulp into a medium mixing bowl.
- Mash potatoes with butter, blue cheese, and horseradish, and then fold steak slices into mixture.
- Scoop mixture into potato shells and return to the oven for 10 minutes or until potatoes are slightly browned on top (may use broiler function for this).