As I’ve said before, I find it hard to cook for myself.  Boiling water or depressing the toaster lever is usually all the energy I put into Me.  I all too often fall into an eat-to-live rather than live-to-eat mode and the results end up being a kitchen full of mostly condiments.  Cooking is an activity I enjoy because it is one that so easily brings pleasure to others.  It is very easy to tell a meal that is made with love.  Whether in or out, it’s what makes something “good.”

There are times in life when loving Me is important.  And as attractive as that easy lever can be, I know that putting a little elbow grease in for tonight’s dinner might just make life a little rosier.

I can easily go overboard on my lust for carbohydrates, so I’ll just say that my white bread needed to be on the menu.  Pasta could be an obvious accompaniment, but that screams  emotional eating.  Especially when I had decided that I would make rice pudding for dessert.

Soup, then.

 

I wanted something healthy and hearty.  Not a cream soup.  And not a puree.  I just wanted to dump everything into a pot and wait.  This barley, lentil and chard soup from Bon Appétit did the trick.  I halved the recipe, but kept the same amount of tomatoes and topped up the red chard I was using. 

 

 

 

 

 

It was delicious.  The fresh dill was a nice change from a more expected herb like basil.  The lentils added a hidden body, and the barley gave the substance I was after.  You feel no guilt about a meal when it has something like red chard in it.  The soup nicely coated my bread when dipped—coat rather than soak is to me the mark of good bread and appropriate soup thickness.  The crusts served their purpose of pre-cleaning the bowl before dishwashing later.

 

I ended with what I can only call a Quick ‘n’ Dirty Rice Pudding.  Not much thought, only the effort of stirring, and hardly perfect.  But it was what I wanted:  sweet and creamy and chewy and vanilla-y.  And after being completely cooled in the fridge, it also had the sticky, glutinous texture I (maybe not you) love in rice pudding.

 

 

 

 

I sat at my table alone eating dinner, listening to Carlos Gardel, and reading a magazine.  I lit a candle and enjoyed the sunshine of the longer Alberta days.

I felt the warmth of the soup in my body and the love that was made just for me.

 

 

 

 

Quick ‘n’ Dirty Rice Pudding

 

Makes two generous servings.

 

0.5 cup Arborio rice

2 cups milk

3 tablespoons sugar

Pinch of salt

Seeds of one vanilla bean

1 egg yolk, lightly beaten

1 teaspoon butter

 

Bring rice, milk, salt, sugar, vanilla seeds, and now-empty vanilla bean to a boil.

Reduce heat to low and cover, stirring often, until rice is tender and pudding is to desired thickness—more milk may need to be added.

Take pudding off the heat.  Remove the bean pod.  Continually stir the pudding as you slowly add the egg yolk, which further thickens the pudding.  Stir in butter.

Enjoy warm or cool completely in the fridge (with plastic wrap pressed onto pudding for skin prevention).

 

I finish with a little cream as I like my pudding extra thick.

 

 

I’ve always been told that it’s the Anglo in me that craves bread and butter.  I like it soft, fragrant, and white.  A chewy crust.  Slathered with creamy (always salted) butter.  A large slice or two and it’s like I’ve been given a warm blanket and kiss on the forehead.  As a little girl, it was always my snack of choice.  One of my grandmas always had beautiful Italian buns waiting for me.  I remember a Dutch loaf from a Highlands bakery that was spongy and sweet.  One of my favourite parts of large family dinners was the basket of Safeway tray buns.  Baguettes in Vietnam hold a special place in my heart.  Even now, I’ll suggest the occasional excursion to the Old Spaghetti Factory just to have the cornetti bread. 

 

The process of making bread by hand with Sugar put me a little over the edge.  The kneading, the rising, the proofing, the baking…  I was as giddy as a school girl to see our loaves come out of the industrial oven.  The aroma from the oven hit me like pheromones.

Oh my.  I made that?

 

 

 

May I eat it now?  Hot and fresh?

No.

Our instructor told us that bread should be given 2 hours to rest before eating so that the flavours fully develop.

The good little students put their loaves in their bags and left the classroom to go home for the night.

Of course, cheating occurred.  And it was well worth it.

Even now, it’s hard for me to believe I made something SO good.  Dare I say that butter was hardly necessary?

I gifted one of my loaves to the hands of another; its mate was cut in half and placed in my freezer.

 

When might a half come out?

Stay tuned.

 

 

 

 

 

Basic White Bread By Hand

 

Remember, baking is a science.  It’s all based around percentages, so accuracy is important.  Ingredients should always be measured by weight, not volume.

This recipe makes 4 loaves that are approximately 625 g each.

In class, we cut the recipe in half.  Everything was done by hand—no mixers, no special tools.  Just the two Mother Nature gave you.

 

Bread flour*   1.4 kg

Water   950 g

Yeast (fresh)**   45 g

Salt   35 g

Sugar   35 g

Milk powder   30 g

Shortening   55 g

 

Blend milk powder into flour, then rub shortening through flour.

Dissolve sugar and salt in water.

Make a well in the flour.

Pour water mixture into well and crumble yeast into mixture

Slowly combine ingredients and mix until gluten window is formed.

Rise for 1 hour, punch back.  Rest another 15 minutes then round.  Rest another 15 minutes then form into loaf.

Put in loaf pan.

Proof*** for 1 hour.

Bake**** at 425 degrees F for approximately 30 minutes.

 

Don’t eat for 2 hours! 

 

*All purpose or whole wheat flour can be substituted.

**If using active dry yeast, use 40% of this amount.

***To proof:  Place a 9 x 13 pan in your oven full of boiling water.  Place the dough in with it.  Do not turn on oven… yet.

****To bake:  Keep the pan of water in with the bread until it turns golden.

 

 

 

Few things are better than Sunday morning breakfasts. Its allowance for salty, sweet, and everything in between, is delightful. It can only be made better when the only thing between the bed and the eating is a little kitchen magic. So in pajamas until far too late, I love to concoct morning (well, really early afternoon) treats. My love affair with breakfast started as a wee toddler with a hankering for pancakes. My annual Saturday morning ritual at the age of five was to rise and shine bright and early to watch the Little Rascals under the protection of my little satin trimmed yellow blanket, which was always followed by making pancakes. With parents still asleep, I would haul out the Aunt Jemima, push a chair up to the stove, and get cooking. How hard could it be really? In no time at all I was a fully independent pancake maker...except for the time that somehow I managed to produce a blue pancake product, they were pretty good for a toddler. No more Aunt Jemima for me. Now my weekend carb fix is all about the stuffed French Toast and perfect buttery pancakes. Carbohydrate number one goes something like this with two variations....

Banana Brie French Toast & Ham Gruyere French Toast 2 eggs 2 Tbsp whole milk 8 thick slices of French bread 1 sliced banana or pear (as pictured) if you prefer 4 slices of brie 4 slices of Swiss Gruyere 4 slices of Tuscan ham maple syrup Lightly beat eggs and milk in a shallow dish. Set aside. Cut a slit in the French bread slices as though you were slicing them into thinner slices, but don't cut all the way through. Stuff half of the slices with a layer of bananas and brie, and stuff the other half with the Swiss Gruyere and Tuscan Ham. Heat a cast iron pan or griddle to medium/high. Lightly dip both sides of each piece of French Bread and place on hot buttered grill one by one. Flip when golden brown and serve with maple syrup for the sweet version, and Dijon mustard for the salty version.

Carbohydrate number two is courtesy of my friend, and brilliant artist, Dana Holst. A fellow connoisseur of the pancake, we talked about the attributes of the little fluffy pan treats. We reviewed density (can't be too heavy), crispiness (has to have a little crunch along the delicate edges), fluffiness which is of course essential, and memories of pancakes from days gone by made by the hands of women we love. So when Dana told me she had discovered the perfect recipe for a light, fluffy, crisp, thin pancake, I was thrilled. She was right. Sunday morning perfection!

Dana's Pancakes 1 ½ cups flour (wholewheat if you want) ½ tsp salt 1 ½ tsp baking powder 2 eggs separated 1 2/3 cups milk ¼  cups canola oil Butter for cooking Sift dry ingredients together.  Blend egg yolks, milk and oil well in a blender.  Beat egg whites until stiff in separate bowl.  Add wet ingredients to dry and stir until just mixed and still lumpy.  Gently fold in egg whites until just mixed.  Cook in butter, on medium/high heat. Butter and syrup....yum!

Now keep those PJs on and get cooking already. I won't tell.....

You can’t really get any better than an Easter brunch of pancakes, bacon, sausages, sweet and savoury versions of French toast, frittata, tea, lattes, and champagne cocktails.

Oh wait, you can if that brunch is homemade.  Check.

And you can if that brunch is made by Sugar.  Check.

 

When your plate looks like the following, there’s nothing left to do but smile, pick up your knife and fork, and dig in.

 

 

 

The bliss that comes from eating such food confirms why breakfast is the most important meal of the day.

A high from sugar, white flour, cheese, pork, butter, pork and butter fat, alcohol, and caffeine is the stuff of legend.

So, what’s that red stuff on the plate?

 

Overheard:  Fruit at breakfast is like green vegetables at Thanksgiving.

An unnecessary reminder that you’re not being as good as you could be in the health department.

That’s where the Barefoot Contessa comes in.  Like many contemporary chefs, she’s not shy of adding a little richness to her fruit and veg.

 

For Easter brunch, I made our fruit fat (read: delicious) by making her mascarpone fruit dip.  It was like melted vanilla ice cream.  Rich, but not crazy-rich like whipped cream.  Not too sweet.  Just perfect.

 

 

 

Mascarpone Fruit Dip

 

1 small tub (around 250 g) of mascarpone cheese

2 tablespoons of honey

Half a teaspoon of vanilla extract

Seeds from one vanilla bean

 

Mix—you can thin with cream if you like.

 

Then, serve.

Lastly, enjoy.

 

 

 

There are certain cuisines that dazzle me. Now I fancy myself quite confident in the kitchen where most things are concerned, however, there are whole realms of ingredients that I avoid like the plague. These mysterious goodies, when combined by an expert, are some of my favorites. I can eat good Italian food, break it down, experiment, and recreate....and then there's Thai food. Its salty, sweet, fresh, crisp, rich, light, fresh herb, perfect noodle, spicy perfection had remained mostly a mystery to me, so upon deciding to take my first NAIT Culinary Institute Cooking Class, I determined that unraveling the mystery would be my first adventure. I admit that I went in with certain trepidation about the risk of cooking watered down "Thai-ish" food. I was pleasantly surprised and have since recreated these dishes at home, and with friends, to rave reviews. Delicate and perfectly fresh salad rolls with mango and prawns, succulent satay, Thai curries, and of course the obligatory full fat coconut rice. Not only were recipes revealed, but more importantly, the mysterious ingredients and where to buy them unfolded. Suddenly the shelves at the always incredible T&T Supermarket were filled opportunity instead of question marks. Here are my versions of two dishes that are now kitchen staples with tips on brands to seek out on your next T&T outing...

Chicken Satay with Spicy Peanut Sauce 1 kg or boneless skinless chicken breast Marinade: 2 tsp black pepper 2 Tbsp canola oil 2 Tbsp soy sauce 2 Tbsp lemon juice 2 tsp fish sauce (squid brand is recommended) 6 Tbsp coconut milk 2 Tbsp sugar 2 tsp ground cumin 2 tsp ground coriander 1 tsp turmeric 3 cloves of crushed garlic bamboo skewers Cube chicken breast into 1" pieces and set aside. In a separate bowl, combine dry ingredients, and then add all liquid ingredients. Toss chicken in marinade and refrigerate for a minimum of 1 hour. Soak skewers in hot water for 20 minutes to prevent burning. Preheat BBQ to Medium-High and oven to 350° . Thread chicken onto skewers and spray lightly with oil. Grill on an angle to get nice grill marks until golden. Finish in the oven to retain grill marks, but prevent drying (5-10 more minutes). Serve with Warm Peanut Sauce and Lime Wedges. Peanut Sauce: 1/4 cup finely diced onion 2 Tbsp minced garlic 1 Tbsp butter 1 cup chunky peanut butter 1 cup whipping cream 1 Tbsp sambal olek (chili garlic sauce) 30 ml coconut syrup (creme de coco) In a small sauce pan, saute garlic and onions in butter until translucent. Add peanut butter, cream and sambal olek and mix well. Slowly bring to a simmer and cook uncovered for 20 minutes. Add coconut syrup and cook 10 minutes longer. Remove from heat and keep warm until ready to serve.

Green Thai Curry with Prawns 1 pound large prawns 1 1/2 cups unsweetened coconut milk 1/2 cup whipping cream 1 Tbsp green curry paste (Mae Ploy brand is recommended) 1/2 tsp sugar 2 lemon grass stalks 2 red chilies cut into thin strips 1/2 onion coarsely chopped 2 carrots peeled and sliced on the diagonal 1 zucchini cut in half length wise, cored, sliced 1 cup fresh asparagus cut into 2" pieces 1/4 bunch of cilantro 6 limes wedges 1 package of rice stick noodles (steamed, rinsed and set aside) Peel and devein prawns and set aside. Bruise lemon grass stalks by bashing with the blunt edge of a knife to release fragrance and chop coarsely. Place half of coconut milk in a pan and bring to a boil. Add curry paste and lemon grass. Stir and simmer for 10 minutes. Add sugar, remaining coconut milk, and whipping cream. Simmer 5 minutes longer. With a fine sieve, strain mixture to remove lemongrass. Reserve. In a wok or pan, heat oil and saute onion, carrot, zucchini, and asparagus until tender. Add prawns and saute an additional minute. Add reserved green curry sauce and simmer until prawns are cooked through. Toss with noodles or serve over rice. Garnish with red chilies, cilantro, and lime wedges.

I have a problem with meat.

Not in the eating part, but in the cooking part.

Firstly, I am paranoid about undercooking and overcooking.  Salmonella, E. coli, Tough, and Dry hover above me while I cook and make me a Nervous Nellie.

As well, I can’t remember a time when handling raw meat was acceptable to me.  It’s hard for me remove myself from the fact that I’m touching carcass.  I grab those little strings of fat from a chicken breast and look down at my own thighs.  I see the blood run from the Styrofoam tray of beef and I remember the cut on my finger from earlier in the day.  Looking for the grain while cutting causes a mind leap to muscle fibres flexing.

Do you get the picture?

 

Don’t get me wrong, I’m no vegetarian.  I just prefer to take an Ignorance is Bliss attitude and have my meat prepared for me.  For some reason, cooked fibres and fat don’t bother me.  They’re too delicious.  Thus, I’m largely a veg when eating at home.

Sometimes I suck it up and plough through.  Like for a date night.  My inner cavewoman feels like she must attempt cooking meat for the Y chromosome.

And as this Little Cavewoman is unschooled in the ways of the (edible) flesh, every recipe is a new recipe.  Because I totally rely on “Oh well, it’s a new recipe” as my fallback line.

 

 

This one was for lamb chops.  Simply marinated and quickly broiled.

Rosemary, lemon, and garlic brought it to the table as a warm, Mediterranean present on a cold night.  I served it with your basic Risotto Milanese and a green salad.

The bite of the garlic and lemon was soothed by the richness of the risotto, which was then only to be refreshed by the greens.

Nervous Nellie overcooked the lamb (Is it done?! Is it done?!) to medium-well, but its reception was good enough that no fallback line was necessary.

 

 

Appropriately, Little Cavewoman and a Y chromosome then took their tummies full of meat to the theatre to watch Mickey Rourke flex his muscles and stretch his fibres in "The Wrestler."

 

 

 

 

The ease with which we tend to take Sundays—the day of rest—often means dinners that can take time and involve the word “slow.”  But, the phenomenon of a Lazy Sunday also exists.  And it exists a lot in my life.

So, a post about a lazy meal on a lazy Sunday is going to be just that.  The laziness also extends to it being posted a week late.  But as it’s Sunday again, it all works.

 

The most effort this lazy salad required was making the red wine vinaigrette and slicing the fennel.  Otherwise, everything was simply chopped:  pre-washed baby romaine, kalamata olives, tiny sweet peppers, avocado, yellow tomatoes, fennel, fresh basil, store-bought rotisserie chicken.

The modified ham and cheese required the use of the broiler.  Therefore, I technically cooked.

After slicing the cheddar biscuits (from the freezer), I placed shaved prosciutto, sliced Granny Smith, and goat cheese on top.

 

 

Dessert was Breyer’s.  The digestif was a good dose of laughing while watching the gang of 30 Rock with my Lazy Sunday partner in crime.

 

I did not make a Sunday roast, but I did turn the oven on and the chicken had been roasted at some point.

So there.