photo friday: it’s a party

Last weekend Swede and I had some friends over to watch the Oscars and eat pierogi.

Because nothing says slinky dresses and well-cut tuxedos walking the red carpet like shoveling Polish dumplings in your mouth. That is, when you’ve taken a break from stuffing your face with delicious, smoky kielbasa.

And yes, before you ask, the pierogi were homemade. And yes, before you ask, I made them myself. And yes, before you ask, I am a rock star.

And yes, you can come over any time and I’ll make some for you, too.

Slinky dresses and well-cut tuxedos not required.

 

stuffed peppers for your soul

I don’t know if you know this, but fall is my favorite season. By like, a LOT. Is there anyone out there who DOESN’T like fall? If so, I’m not sure I want to be friends with you. But that doesn’t mean you should stop reading this post. Particularly if you like stuffed peppers.

So to recap, if you don’t like fall, but you do like stuffed peppers, then let’s just agree to disagree, even though we both know that I’m right, you’re wrong, and the world is a better place now that that’s all figured out.

However, I’m still working on what to do if you like neither fall nor stuffed peppers. As of this moment it involves you going to Siberia, and NOT to train like Rocky in order to beat the man/machine Drago, played by the granite-faced Dolph Lundgren.

The greatest thing about fall is that it inspires me to cook, and the best thing about stuffed peppers is that you can stuff them with just about anything you have on hand. This is my most recent iteration of stuffed peppers based on two things: What was in the cabinets and my inherent laziness. Swede started pulling random cans out and putting them on the counter, and looking at what was available, I plucked a few items out of the lineup, closed my eyes and prayed that it would all work out, and if not, that there was enough wine in the house so that Swede would not notice dinner tasted like poo. My alternative to this potential disaster was to go to the Jewel and get something that made sense, like chicken wings, but that would involve putting on a bra, and it was just too late for that, my friend.

Thankfully, the stuffed pepper mix I came up with was a success, and I encourage all of you to try it, or try your own imaginative mixture and see what happens. Just make sure there’s enough wine in the house in case it all ends up being a disaster. But then again, if you have a good pizza place near you, nothing is ever a disaster because the worst case scenario is that you dump the ruined dinner in the garbage and call for a large cheese and sausage, and if that is the worst case scenario then I live to ruin dinner. 

Ingredients:

Peppers of any color—green, red, yellow, orange; whatever strikes your fancy

Cooked orzo pasta (about a cup)

Cheese of your liking (in this case, we used an asiago blend, I believe)

Pesto

Onion

1 can northern beans, rinsed

salt and pepper

Cut the top off the peppers and pull out the seeds. Save the tops (you’ll need them later), and discard the seeds. Parboil the peppers for three minutes. Parboil means drop the peppers in boiling water for three minutes. Then pull them out and let them cool off for a minute or two, until you can handle them without burning your fingertips.

Chop the onion and sautee it for about five minutes, until softened. Drain and rinse the northern beans. Mix the onion, cooked orzo, beans, about two tablespoons of pesto and the amount of cheese that your heart desires. More or less pesto can be used—you just need enough to get the mix to kind of “stick” together.

Divide the mixture between the two hollowed out and slightly softened peppers. Top with the pepper tops you cut off earlier, and place the peppers in a baking dish. Place in an oven at 350 for about 20-25 minutes, or until the mixture is heated through.

And that’s it! We ate these with baked chicken breasts on the side, but you can eat the peppers as a meal itself if that’s what your heart is calling for.

photo friday: living at home with mom and dad, part one

Dad walks into the kitchen from outside, and sees me perched on the island counter.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Taking pictures of my pickling cucumbers,” I say.

“Why?” he asks.

I pause, and shift, bumping my head on the light fixture above the island. “Don’t you photograph your pickling cucumbers?” I finally ask.

“No.”

“Oh.” I snap another picture. “Well, then you’re missing out.”

photo friday: spicy

I can take or leave shopping.

Unless you’re talking foodstuffs.

In which case what time are we leaving?

Seriously, what time?

You know what? I’ll just go wait in the car until you’re ready to go.

Needless to say when Turner suggested we take an overnight trip to Marrakech, and part of that trip was for the sole purpose of procuring spices, I practically pushed her out of the way and ran toward the door yelling, “SHOTGUN!”

So after enjoying a breakfast on the roofdeck of our riad, Turner and I wound our way through the Marrakech medina, because that’s the only way you can walk through a medina. MOROCCANS HAVE NO CONCEPT OF SYMMETRICAL STREET GRIDS. It’s all one f-ing maze after another, I tell you. Maddening, except that when you’re wandering you might suddenly find yourself in the middle of an open air market surrounded by vendor upon vendor hawking an array of colored spices that would make Rainbow Brite weep with jealousy.

I wanted to buy kilos of everything, even if I didn’t know what they were for. But I thought that might look a little suspicious at customs, so I settled on a small bag of pungent orange powder that Turner dubbed “Fadma’s Mix.” (Fadma being the woman who comes to cook and clean for them twice a week.)

I haven’t used the spice yet since I’ve been back, but I  have a feeling that once I start I won’t be able to stop. I’M LOOKING AT YOU, TRADER JOE’S COUS COUS.

photo friday: wine and dine

On the Friday after Thanksgiving, The Swede, his two sisters, and I took his mom to a cooking class to celebrate her birthday. I’ll tell you more about it later, but know that we now even stellar-er cooks than before, had an excellent group of participants (besides, us, of course), about 15 in all, and there were massive amounts of food.

And knives.

And you can bring your own wine. As much as you like.

Thankfully, we all walked away with all of the fingers and toes and appendages we entered with.

Along with a new fondness for using bricks as cooking utensils.

no photos for you: potato leek soup

I was a little bummed when I started this post, because I realized that I had no photos to show you the step-by-step process, or the finished product. But then I had a talk with myself and said, “Self, nobody wants to see photos of potato-leek soup anyway. It’s the blandest, pastiest most blah-looking soup on the face of the planet. It is even whiter than you. And that is really saying something.”

And I was all, “Yes, but Self, it tasted so good!”

And then I was all, “But Self, seriously. Get a grip. Those photos would have been fugly.”

And so I was all, “Fine.”

And then I was all, “You know, I can just show everyone a semi-artsy picture of a pumpkin instead, because it’s almost Halloween.”

And I responded, “Good idea.”

So here’s a semi-artsy picture of a pumpkin, taken last weekend at a pumpkin “farm” just north of Baltimore, in honor of the upcoming Halloween holiday.

And here’s the recipe for potato-leek soup, which I made as part of my cookbook club this month, because Yours! Truly! got to pick the recipes, and then promptly only made ONE of them.

But lo! How it was a good one to make. This soup is stupidly easy, and it might seem a little odd at first, but trust me, follow the directions and you won’t be disappointed. And even better, it’s one of those soups that gets better when it’s been in the fridge for a day or so. Like chili.

Mmmm…chili.

Sorry.

Soup!

The recipe. Here you go:

Potato-Leek Soup from Not Your Mother’s Slow Cooker

4 medium-size leeks (white part only), washed well and thinly sliced (about 4 cups)

4 medium-size to large russet potatoes, peeled and diced

4 to 6 cups of water or vegetable or chicken broth

Salt to taste

2 tablespoons unsalted butter

French bread for serving

1. Put leeks and potatoes in the slow cooker. Add enough water or broth to just cover them. Cover and cook on low until the potatoes are tender, 5 to 7 hours.
2. Puree the soup with a handheld immersion blender or transfer to a food processor or blender and puree in batches. Add the salt and the butter, swirling until it is melted. Ladle the hot soup into bowls and serve immediately with French bread.

Variation: Pea and Watercress Potato-Leek Soup

Follow the recipe as directed. One hour before the soup is done, add the leaves and tender stems of 1 bunch of watercress and one 12-ounce package of frozen petite peas, thawed, to the crockpot and cover. When done, puree the soup and serve immediately; it will become dull as it sits. We never strain this, we love the bits of green vegetables.

I didn’t make the chicken and rice casserole, though I’m sorry to say that my friend Anastasia did, and it didn’t go over swimmingly. So chances that I will make it? Slim to none.

I wonder what’s cookin’ next month?

join up: cookbook club

So my friend Steph came up with a great idea for a new club. (Okay, I guess she actually ganked the idea from Rachel Ray, but seeing as how I actually know Stephanie and I do not know Rachel Ray, I’m giving Stephanie the credit.) One that involves cookbooks and cooking, which, you know, are two of my favorite things.

I’ll let Steph tell you the details, but suffice it to say, I’m way pumped. And I hope you’ll join as well! (Even if you don’t have a blog. Is totally fine, no biggie.) Between this, and the CSB getting ready to start a new baking book (and I swear I’ll be better this year about making the cakes in a timely fashion, but I can’t guarantee that I’ll be able to frost them any better), and Calliope’s Photo Fridays, I may never have to come up with an original post idea again.

readers ask

Dear McPolish,

My darling husband will soon be celebrating his first Father’s Day and has a hankering for banana cream pie. He was quite adamant that it be a good, rich, custard-y type pie, not some banana-flavored thing with 6 inches of fake whipped cream on top, a la Denny’s.

Now, when I think “custard,” I think, “Oh shit, I’m going to have sugary scrambled eggs or raw-egg soup.”

I found a recipe by Emeril Lagasse that I think I’ll use, but sure enough, I’m forewarned not to fuck up the custard during the whisking process when the egg yolks hit the stove. He says to whisk frantically for 5 minutes, but I’m then told to go more by consistency than time.

What, exactly, is the consistency I’m looking for?

—Custard, Not Cus-terd.

Dear Custard,

First of all, there is not a chance in hell you will fuck up the custard, because I know you and I have faith in your baking abilities. Secondly, even if you did fuck it up it would still be okay, and your husband will just have to like it because you birthed a human, for Christ’s sake, and what did he do? He got all the fun part.

What?

I don’t have any kids. I’m going to shut my yap now.

So!

Banana Cream Pie!

Oh, how I love pie. PAH!

But to be honest, having only ever made two pahs in my life, I can’t answer this one from personal experience. But being fantastically resourceful, I researched the interwebs and have an answer for you.

Ready?

It should be thicker than a pudding, but not as firm as a crème brulee.

Ta-Daaaa!

Does that help?

Probably not.

It makes sense in my head.

Damn.

I’m sorry.

Why couldn’t you have asked about the many uses of butter? Or how not to frost a cake?

Let us know how the pah! turns out, and if it doesn’t, can I at least locate the nearest Baker’s Square for you?

Other readers, do you have any advice for Custard? Or is this Custard’s last stand with pah-making? Leave your thoughts, opinions, and tips in the comments section!

****************************************************

On a completely other note, a new food magazine (and crafts and such) recently launched, called Sweet Paul. It’s free! It’s completely online! And it’s pretty good! Check it out if you’re into that sort of thing. Fair warning: the photography is practically lickable.

this one’s for you, cass

Remember when I did my Fantasy Football draft? And had no idea what I was doing? Guess what?

I came in last in my league!

I win! For the least amount of games won! And points scored! Or something like that!

But I win!

Alright, technically speaking, I broke even, because the prize for being the best of the worst (wait…what?) is $20, which is what it cost me to get into the league in the first place. So I’m happy to say that my first—and last—season of Fantasy Football was a success. And by success I mean a wash.

On to chicken!

My friend Cass, who was the co-person-in-charge of the fantasy football league sent me  a package the other day, and besides said package containing a check for $20 and a very lovely note informing me that I was the best of the worst in our league (awww, shucks!), she also enclosed a pair of onion goggles and an apron. The onion goggles, she explained, were something she saw and had to get for me, because she has so enjoyed my cooking adventures on this here blog over the past almost-a-year. But then she thought it would be weird just to send me onion goggles, so she sent me an apron she’d made herself as well, which is a lovely red and green striped to-do, and for some reason she thinks that the apron strings are WAY too long and will wrap around me twice, though clearly she underestimated the power of my eating skillz and those apron strings? They wrap around only once, thank you very much. I HAVE THE MAD EATING SKILLZ! It is okay to be jealous. But be more jealous of my awesome new apron, which I haven’t taken a picture of, but of which I will, so I can show it to you.

Anyway, so now I have onion goggles.

And lo! How they are stylish.

But yet I wondered….are they functional?

So of course I had to put them to the test.

Enter spiced chicken with black-eyed peas and rice.

It’s a pretty simple dish, and from Cooking Light, no less. Which means you can eat extra.

Totally.

So I didn’t do a step-by-step of photos for this one, because, well, I kind of forgot. But trust me when I say it’s super easy, and can be boiled down to the following:

Make some rice. Set it aside. Sprinkle the seasoning mix on the chicken, the cook it in a pan for a few minutes on each side. Then throw the pan in the oven for about 10 minutes.

And then this is where the onion goggles come in. Granted, I’ve made this, and many other dishes before this sans goggles, but I will be honest when I say my life? It has now changed because of the onion goggles.

For the first, it has upped my Stylish Quotient at least tenfold.

For the second, donning the goggles while chopping onions really does save your eyes from watering and tearing and thus ruining your mascara. HOORAY! And even if you aren’t worried about your mascara, but simply do not like it when your eyes get all teary when you chop onions, they are stellar for preventing that, too.

What’s peculiar, though, is that obviously the goggles do not stop the pungency of the onions from wafting up your nose and tickling the little hairs in your nostrils. The sensation is somewhat bizarre in that you feel like you need to sneeze or blow your nose, but you can’t, because the accompanying eye-waterworks that egg the process on are blocked. Peculiar, but not unwelcome.

Thus: Happy chopper!

And so I cooked my chicken dish in peace and dry eyes.

So! After you chop the onion, and some garlic for good measure, feel free to leave the goggles on while you cook the rest of the meal. It’s just funner that way, let’s be honest. So you cook the two fragrant ingredients together in some olive oil for about three minutes.

Then add in your cooked rice and a can of black-eyed peas, undrained. That’s the important part. You will WANT to drain those peas, but don’t. DON’T! Trust This Girl on this one. The juice (what?) is key. Add in some Tabasco sauce for kick, and let it all heat through.

Then dish it up with a chicken breast on top, and if you want, sprinkle some chopped green onion on top (which, whoops, I forgot here, and now have a bunch of green onion sitting in my fridge) and waaa-laaah, you have dinner!

Or in my case, lunch for the next day!

Because sometimes I can actually get it together enough to do things like that. You know…planning ahead for the week and whatnot.

It’s the onion goggles! They make me invincible! And organized!

Or something.

Fritatta? Frittata? Or Simply: An Egg Dish

This one is filled with spinach, green onions, mushrooms, and parmesean cheese, and I must say, it was delicious. One of my favorite things to make, a fritatta…frittata…whatever…, because it’s really hard to screw up.