Am I Missing Something?

I want so badly to love this cookbook. It's cute and cheerful and it puts me in a good mood to flip through it. I've heard so many great things about it online, and from personal recommendations--one of my friends said "It got me through my first Whole30." That's a pretty big deal! I'm just not happy with how the food is turning out. Maybe I have different tastes than the author, who seems so delightedly enthusiastic about her recipes.

Then again, there is a little cartoon version of her kid with a comic book bubble coming out of his mouth, saying, "Watermelon is better than candy!" Batman took one look at that, scoffed, and said, "That kid ain't eating the right candy."

a) I died laughing.
b) He's totally right, and that level of fervor is something I need to bear in mind. I'll bet Michelle Tam and her family really do love these recipes that much. They also like watermelon better than candy, though, so, different.

First up, I had all the ingredients for Citrus Vinaigrette, so I went ahead and made that. For some reason, I expected zest to be involved. It wasn't. This is just lemon juice, orange juice, dijon, salt, pepper, and olive oil. The only thing that differentiates it from 1000 other dressings is the orange juice, which I can't even taste in the finished product. I expected this to be bright and identifiably citrus. Nope. Tasted like any other lemon/mustard based dressing. Needs zest, man.

Conclusion: Meh. Just okay.

Next up, Slow-Poached Magic Tuna. This caught my eye every time I flipped through the book, because magic. I like tuna, and I've never poached it in olive oil before, so I decided to give it a shot. I hesitated for a minute when I realized that I needed to make Magic Mushroom Powder first.

Magic Mushroom Powder is dried porcini mushrooms, blitzed with salt and other spices in the food processor. I hesitated because I've been rationing out the dried porcini that I brought back from our tour in Italy, and I was down to my last bag, and because, in general, they're expensive, so with the tuna, this was becoming a pricey meal.

I got suckered in by the description: "This spice blend is truly magical--and one of my most sought-after secrets...this stuff is powdered umami in a jar...sprinkle some of this flavorful dust on anything you cook, and bask in the admiring gaze of your dinner guests."

How do you not make that?

I should have saved my mushrooms for risotto.

It's a mushroomy powder. I don't know what else to say about it. Here's the thing. I don't think mushroom is a great flavor for "anything you cook." I certainly didn't love it on tuna.

Also, during the blitz, my kitchen filled with airborn mushroom particulate. Nugget and I could not stop sneezing. Pretty sure it's lodged in my lungs like asbestos now. Should have been more delicious for all that.

I have an entire mason jar full of this stuff now, and I don't honestly know what to do with it. She recommends sprinkling it on kale chips. I guess that could be okay.

Conclusion: Just okay

That purple sweet potato was bomb, though.

Now, as for that tuna. I cooked this according to her timing. It was gray all the way through. The oil was not infused with Magic Mushroom Powder in any delicious way. She says that the leftovers, stored in the braising liquid, will keep for a week. I tried to put some on a salad today for lunch, took one bite, and dumped it. Apparently, tuna gets reeeeeeal fishy when it's sitting in your fridge.

Conclusion: The price point tips this from Just Okay to Dislike.

Why Does That Kid Look So Happy?

Two recipes to report! The first is short and sweet. In the pictures in the book, Carrot + Cardamom Soup looks fresh and pretty. Mine looks quite unappetizing. No description necessary...

I added chicken, because carrot soup is not a meal.

That said, it tasted good. Nothing earth-shattering, but I seem to like anything with cardamom in it. Batman stubbornly sat, not eating, for an hour and a half. He said, "It's fine, if I could just get this flavor off my tongue." O-kaaaaay. When I told him it was time to get ready for bed, he finally ate it really quickly, saying that now that he'd let it sit, it tasted better, and he liked it as much as cauliflower soup. He advised that I write "let it rest a long time" into the directions. No.

Conclusion: Liked it.

In hopes that it would be a crowd-pleaser, I made Chicken Nuggets yesterday. The recipe has you brine chicken breasts, coat them in arrowroot powder, which I happened to have (WHY was this in my pantry??), and fry them in a cup of ghee. DO I LOOK LIKE I'M MADE OF MONEY? I couldn't bring myself to waste an entire cup of ghee on frying some chicken nuggets, so I used vegetable oil, ensuring paleo/whole30 ostracization. Spell check is telling me ostracization is not a word. I like it, though, and I'm keeping it. Now I'm banished by grammar purists. I'm on a roll today. (I just drank extra coffee. Can you tell?)

I had serious qualms about the nuggets while they were frying, because parts seemed crispy, but other parts were gummy. Like, melted cheese stretching between the tongs and the nugget type of gummy. In the book, the nuggets are golden. Mine mostly stayed white. Eaten immediately, the coating was surprisingly crisp.

This is my "this toddler is trying to kill himself while I cook dinner, I don't have time for vegetables!!!" plate.

However, these were overwhelmingly salty. The only salt was from the brine. Was I supposed to rinse the meat before I used it? The instructions didn't say to. I thought it was just me, but even Batman said they were "good, but TOO salty." We both actually felt sick to our stomachs after dinner, and he didn't want the leftovers for lunch today. I'm definitely bloated today, and chugging as much water as I can. I don't know what happened here. I can't imagine they are supposed to be like this. Batman looked at the cookbook while I was cleaning up and asked, "Why does that kid look so happy? Why doesn't his stomach hurt?" I don't know, buddy. I really don't.

Also, by the time i wrapped up the leftovers, the arrowroot coating had turned soft and gummy again.

Conclusion: No. No, no, no. A solid Disliked.

First Forays

Well, look at that! I came back! That, my friends, is a step in the right direction.

I've cooked a few things from Nom Nom Paleo since we last spoke.

The best of the bunch was the Roast Beast. I followed this more for the method of cooking it at a low temp for a long time, than for the details. She rubs hers with dukkah. I didn't have dukkah, or the ingredients to make my own, so I rubbed my beef down with my own spice blend. I also was not able to put it on a wire rack in the oven, because mine do not look oven-proof, and I didn't feel like taking chances. I also wasn't able to let it sit for 15 minutes once it was out of the oven, because the children were turning ravenous. I still contend that I followed the recipe. HA!

Conclusion: A strong Liked it. This may be my new go-to method from now on, time-willing. Despite my tinkering, the meat came out tender and pink and juicy. I'm sure it would have been even juicier if I'd let it sit, because a ton of liquid seeped out when I cut it.

With it, I made Garlic Mashed Cauliflower. I tried to make mashed cauliflower once, 15 years ago, and thought it was NASTY. I never made it again. This does not and can not compete with actual mashed potatoes, and anyone who says that they're close has never had good mashed potatoes, but, if I thought of this as some other food, this was pretty good. If it didn't have a hit of nutmeg, I don't know that it would have enough flavor, but as it stands, this was pretty good.

Conclusion: Liked it.

Last night, I made Coconut Pineapple "Rice". I've become a really big fan of cauliflower rice in the past year, and make it almost anytime I cook something saucy (thank you Costco, for your frozen bags of cauliflower rice). I thought this sounded like an interesting variation, but honestly, it didn't turn out so well. I followed the short-end of her cook time, and the cauliflower was straight-up mushy. Blech. My pineapple wasn't sweet enough to lend good flavor, and the whole thing just tasted bland. The hint of onion from the scallions did not go very well with pineapple.

Conclusion: Disliked. I wouldn't make it again.

My Paris Kitchen: Belgian Beef Stew with Beer and Spice Bread

On the one hand, I was looking forward to a nice long day of slow cooking. On the other hand, I'm admittedly not a huge fan of stews. Especially stews that require you to make a separate recipe, for pain d'epices, a day or two ahead of time. However, some of Dorie's recipes in Around My French Table have opened me up to enjoying stew--sometimes--and the honey spice bread sounded delicious on its own. The idea of slathering slices of it with mustard and stirring it into the stew? Odd.

I'm not sure that my bread turned out the way it was supposed to. The photo in the book is domed and looks like it has an airy crumb. Mine came out of the oven already sunk in the center, and it was dense and kind of chewy. It tasted good, but I kept re-reading the recipe to see if I had missed a step or an ingredient. Nothing jumped out at me.

I started the stew right after I ate lunch. It smelled amazing while it was cooking. I wish I'd followed my gut and crisped up the bacon a bit before adding the onions. I know perfectly well that any time a recipe tells me to add bacon and onions together, the bacon stays flaccid and fatty. Yuck.

Maybe I didn't cut my chuck roast into small enough pieces. After five hours, it was still not fork-tender.

I cut the difference on adding the spice bread to the stew, and only used two slices. I'm glad I didn't use the full four slices, because I think it would have made the broth too sludgy.

I ate a little. I didn't really love it. If the meat had broken down more, I'd have been happier. The flavor was okay. The meat was way too tough for me. I didn't have more than five hours to let it simmer.

Conclusion: Liked the spice bread, especially slathered with plum jam. Didn't really like the stew.

Gut-Buster

I made Daddy's Carbonara (pg 36 of The Food52 Cookbook), primarily because I had all the ingredients--spaghetti, bacon, eggs, parmesan, and the unconventional choice of peas, and secondarily, because I knew Charlie would eat it.

This really wants a lot of bacon. A pound. Holy moly. I used half, and it still seemed like more than was necessary.

The peas were fine. I don't know that they really added much, regarding flavor or texture.

I ate way too much of this. I love carbonara. Lately, I've been eating whole wheat pasta. Carbonara is all about luxurious caloric excess, and demands normal pasta, even though one of the notes for this recipe suggests that you could use whole wheat. Nope. I protest. This is not a meal that should be approached with any intention of cutting calories.

I asked Charlie how it tasted. He said, "Good. Delicious, actually. Why has it been so long since we ate this?" Because Mom has no self-control, my dear.

Conclusion: Liked it. Charlie approved.

In an effort to replace my heartburn-inducing lemonade addiction, I figured I'd try Mint Limeade (pg 362). Lime juice, mixed with mint simple syrup and club soda sounded like it might fit the bill with a bit less acid.

Turns out, this is a very strange flavor combination. I had one glass, and no desire to drink more.

Conclusion: Disliked.

Thanksgiving with Pioneer Woman

I've made a bunch of recipes from The Pioneer Woman Cooks: A Year of Holidays. Most of them are from the Thanksgiving section, but not all of them are.

First up, Drop Biscuits (pg 346, the Christmas section). I brought these over to a friend's house a few week's ago. She made soup and mulled wine. I made biscuits and dessert. I've had a hit-or-miss relationship with biscuits in the past. I always blame my failures on my Yankee-dom. These Drop Biscuits are simple to make (put the ingredients in the food processor. Whir. Scoop spoonfuls on to a baking sheet. Bake.) and turned out to be delicious. I need to make biscuits more often.

Conclusion: Loved them.

Matt and I haven't been overly impressed with our Thanksgiving stuffing for the past few years, so we decided to mix it up this year and use Ree's Basic Thanksgiving Dressing (pg 258). This uses three types of bread: cornbread, Italian bread, and ciabatta, and a host of standard stuffing flavors: celery, onion, parsley, thyme, rosemary, and basil. She uses dried herbs. In the future, I'd like to try it with fresh herbs. I think this was a good starting point. I felt it needed a bit more flavor, but I'm not totally sure what to do to it. I liked that the cornbread practically turned to breadcrumbs and coated all the other breads. There was a lot of different texture.

Conclusion: Liked it, but it needs some fiddling. We didn't salt it enough this time. Needs more oomph.

For the dressing, I made Ree's recipe for Skillet Cornbread (pg 268). This was easy to make, and it worked fine in the dressing, but I don't like it on its own. The cornbread is VERY salty and gritty. This may be why Matt undersalted the dressing--I warned him that the cornbread was salty. I like sweet, wet cornbread. This was the opposite. Different strokes for different folks.

Conclusion: Disliked, but it worked fine for the dressing.

I almost forgot about the Giblet Gravy. Matt is the Bird-meister, so he made the gravy. I was uninvolved, so I have no input regarding the process. All I can say is that it was deeeeeeelicious. I can never be without it again.

Conclusion: Loved it. 

I'm roasting a chicken tonight to use up our leftover dressing. For a side, I decided to try Ree's Cranberry Sauce (pg 256). This was a last-minute decision, and so I don't have the orange zest and juice that I'm supposed to. I threw in a splash of mandarinetto instead. Figured it couldn't hurt. I normally make a basic cranberry sauce with sugar, orange zest, and juice. The difference here is that, instead of sugar, Ree uses a cup of maple syrup.

I'm torn about what to think. I love the smokey maple flavor that the syrup gives to the sauce, but it's too sweet. It's possible that the orange zest and juice might have cut the sweetness a bit. I'm not sure. I may continue to play with this, cutting back on the amount of syrup used until the balance tips over a bit in favor of cranberry tartness. It's cranberry sauce. I want to taste the cranberry!

Conclusion: Liked it, but it needs tweaking.

Let's Get This "Long Term" Ball Rolling

I recently asked Charlie to pick a recipe out of C is for Cooking. He went with Ernie's Fruity Frozen Fun Pops. I like the idea of these a lot more than either one of us enjoyed the outcome.

Blitz banana, canned crushed pineapple, plain yogurt, and a little sugar in the blender. Fill an ice cube tray with the mixture. Put them in the freezer, and when they're half frozen, stab them with straws.

These were annoying to eat, because the second they get a little melty, they fall off the straw and make slow-eating 4 year olds scream. Also, the straws that I used weren't sturdy enough to support the weight of the cube, so they bent. Refer back to the screaming 4 year old.

My biggest problem with this, though, was that the texture of the cube was unpleasant to eat. There weren't fruit chunks, but there was a lot of fiber from the pineapple, so you almost had to chew it. Not ideal.

Charlie barely ate his first one, and never wanted another. I felt the same way.

Conclusion: Dislike.

My first two forays into Pioneer Woman Cooks: A Year of Holidays have been delightful.

First up: Sticky Cherry Cake, from her Valentine's Day section. This cake uses canned cherries in the batter, and then the syrup from the can is cooked down with sugar and butter, and poured on top of the cooked cake.

Holy moly. This thing was rich, sweet, and delicious. The chewy, caramelized edges were the best part. For me, a little went a long way, and my family didn't eat much of it on the day I made it. However, our friends and their kids came for dinner the next day. We demolished the rest of the cake. One of the kids may have licked the pan clean.

Conclusion: Loved it. Sometimes you need something this decadently sweet.

The Chipotle Chicken Chili from the section for "The Big Game" is, hands-down, the best chicken chili I've had. I think that the element that sets it apart from other recipes I've tried is that, in the last few minutes, you add a mixture of beer and masa harina. This provides that nice, earthy, corn flavor, and also thickens the chili beautifully. I'm also a huge fan of the flavor that chipotle peppers in adobo give to any recipe, so this wins points for using them.

I realize this looks like a pile of cheese, with no chili.

Conclusion: I loved it. Matt loved it. Charlie ate an English Muffin.

Bookending Bologna

On Friday, two hours before we were scheduled to leave for the train station to head up to Bologna for the weekend, Charlie requested pancakes. This kid asks for specific food so infrequently that I decided, sure, let's have pancakes for lunch.

I've had Nigella's Cheesecakelets (pg 191 of Feast) in my head for quite a while, ever since I first saw her whip them up on her tv show. Despite the name, these don't much resemble cheesecake. They have cottage cheese in them, and she says that they remind her of her grandmother's cheesecake. Who am I to argue with an individual's food associations?

There's not a ton of flour involved (only 1/3 cup), especially when taking into account that there are 3 eggs. The eggs are separated, the whites whipped, then folded into the batter.

I found these pancakes to be impossible to handle. They stuck to the griddle and were very slow to cook through, meaning that I kept flipping too-wet pancakes to try to keep the glued-on bottoms from burning. It was a hot mess. Maybe it was my fault. Maybe my pan was too hot. I didn't heat the pan any differently than I normally do for pancakes.

I managed to get one to stay intact for Charlie, and he ate it (including cottage cheese) without complaint. I wound up with the torn up messes, and didn't bother cooking the remainder of the batter. The flavor wasn't unique or interesting enough to make this recipe instead of a normal pancake recipe, especially when taking into account how difficult they were to actually cook.

Conclusion: Dislike. Pain in the ass. I may try and slip some cottage cheese into our normal pancake recipe in the future though, for extra protein, since it didn't seem to bother Charlie that it was in there.

I made sure I had all the ingredients on hand to make Penne alla Vodka (pg 133 of Feast), because it seemed like it would be easy enough to throw together on Monday, after a day of travel. It was. This was very delicious, and it tasted like home. Not my actual home, because vodka sauce was not something my mother ever made, but my neighbors did, and I used to like ordering it in restaurants. Kids need vodka too. What? haha.

One thing I found odd, and that I'm not sure I would do again, is that, instead of adding the vodka to the sauce, which is the only way I've ever seen this made, Nigella has you mix butter and the vodka in with the drained pasta, prior to adding it to the sauce. This made it much more obvious that vodka was involved, which may be why she prefers it. I don't know. I think it tastes smoother and less jarring when mixed with the sauce. Also, on Monday night, I'd pulled out Charlie's pasta prior to adding the vodka, and he inhaled his entire plate of pasta and sauce. Last night, I tried to give him the leftovers (which included the boozified pasta), and we fought about it for two hours. In retrospect, I'm wondering if he could taste the difference. It's equally likely that he was just being a pain. The majority of our meals turn into fights, so who knows.

Conclusion: Loved it.

We adults ate Dominican Chimichurri Burgers (pg 152 of The Epicurious Cookbook) last night. The intro describes this as a "messy masterpiece." Messy, yes. Masterpiece? Let's not go crazy.

The basis of this burger--ground beef mixed with diced onion and red pepper, garlic, cilantro, oregano, soy sauce, and Worcestershire, topped with a mixture of mayo, ketchup, and mustard--was very good. I know, because I had the leftover patty for lunch today, minus all the extra unnecessary hooplah. The hooplah in question is sliced cabbage and shredded carrots cooked for two minutes until wilted (huh? Why? It was still crunchy. Not sure what the point of this step was.), grilled tomatoes, and grilled onions. I don't like all that messy crap on top of my burger. The whole thing fell apart while I was eating it. It's just a peeve of mine. The cabbage and carrot was especially unnecessary. Out with it!

Conclusion: Liked it, minus the toppings.

Another Round-up

I really need to start posting about these recipes closer to the time I've prepared them. Some are a little fuzzy in my memory. Maybe that should tell me something.

Peruvian Grilled Chicken (pg 143 of The Epicurious Cookbook) doesn't resemble any Peruvian chicken I've ever had. Once in a blue moon, for a treat, my dad's best friend would stop at a Peruvian chicken place and bring a few birds to my house, where we all descended upon them like a pack of rabid zombies. They were salty and juicy and delicious. Same goes for the ones we used to get when we lived in Norfolk. This version was tasty enough, when looked at objectively, but did not come anywhere close to being delicious enough to be called Peruvian chicken. It was, however, easy. Just marinate chicken parts overnight, then roast them in the oven for a half an hour at really high heat. It was good, but not great. It will not satisfy a Peruvian chicken craving.

Conclusion: Just okay. If it were called Soy Sauce Chicken, I might score it higher, but this is no substitute for the real thing.

Southwestern Lime Chicken (pg 145) is another marinate, then grill recipe. There are other spices in the mix, but the only two flavors that stand out are lime juice and soy sauce. If limey and salty, with a finishing touch of melted Monterey Jack, is your thing, then this is a recipe for you. I liked it. My chicken took a lot longer to cook through than the designated ten minutes. Another easy recipe that I'm glad to have in my pocket.

Sorry, I cut them all to make sure they were done, so it looks a bit dismembered.

Conclusion: Liked it. Can anyone tell me how to use a cast-iron grill pan without smoking out my house?

Thai Fried Eggplant with Basil (pg 273) is technically supposed to be a side dish. I probably should have paid attention to that fact prior to preparing it. This was mighty tasty (especially to my deprived-of-Asian-food tastebuds), and healthily veggie-laden (4 WW points, without counting the rice), but Matt and I were both starving by bedtime. Stomach-growling hunger. No good. However, the protein of your choice could easily be tossed into the wok and stir fried with the rest, so I'll know better next time.

Conclusion: Liked it.

Last night, as a side to a rotisserie chicken, I made Wild Rice with Pecans, Raisins, and Orange Essence (pg 354). Despite the fact that I cut a tablespoon of olive oil, and halved the pecan and the raisins, in order to bring the points value into a more reasonable range (7 pts), this was still very good. There's lots of good flavor here, with the zest and juice of one large orange (or 2 tangerines, in this case), balsamic vinegar, mint leaves, nuts, raisins, and green onions. It's meant to sit for an hour or two, then be served room temp, so it's another easy do-ahead recipe.

Conclusion: Loved it. This tastes extremely orangey, which I like. The whole "essence" business made me expect less flavor.

Lastly, as part of Charlie's Curious George themed birthday party, I made monkey and banana shaped cut-out cookies, using Nigella's recipe in Feast. I can't say I was very impressed. Matt and Charlie had a stomach virus earlier in the week, and I came down with it the night before his original party date, and was congested before that, so it's possible my tastebuds were off, but these cookies didn't have much flavor. They cut well and were fairly sturdy, but if they don't taste delicious, I don't need them in my life. Unfortunately, I wound up having to toss them out because we were all too sick to be interested in eating them before they went bad, and I didn't get a chance to make new ones for his belated party, this past saturday. If I had made new cookies, I would have used a different recipe.

My icing skills need some work.

Conclusion: Disliked. Don't care if they look cute. I want my cookies to taste good.

Chilis

I'd made Epicurious' Chicken Chili (pg 251 of The Epicurious Cookbook) when my in-laws were here. At the time, I remember a) being able to blitz the soup base in my food processor without any overflow, b) being surprised at how thick the chili was, and c) loving it. It reminded me of the inside of an enchilada at Don Pablo's.

I decided to make it again, in what I thought was exactly the same way, apart from the fact that this time I used pinto beans instead of white beans. The recipe actually calls for "pink beans," but I don't even know what that means. The cannellini worked better than pinto, flavor-wise. Both times, I used canned chiles in adobo sauce instead of "dried New Mexican or guajillo chiles."

I don't know what happened, but this time, when I whirred the broth, chiles, canned tomatoes, onion, garlic, cilantro, peanuts (!!), cumin, cilantro, and salt, it was too much fluid for my food processor and it leaked out all over my counter. The finished product was much soupier than it was last time.

Did I forget to add the broth the first time I made this?

I have no idea. I think I must have. I really need to try it again and figure out what the difference was, because I preferred it before.

Another problem this time was that, because my food processor was leaking, I didn't blitz the base well enough. Instead of turning into a nice, thick puree (I must have forgotten the broth before), the peanuts were too chunky. Last time, they helped thicken the soup. This time, they were annoying to chew.

Conclusion: liked it, but loved it the first time. I must determine what I did "wrong" on the first go.

Several weeks ago, I made Nigella's Cornbread-Topped Chilli Con Carne (pg 399 of Feast). I'd totally forgotten about it until I flipped by it in the book, so that should tell you something. The chili itself was okay. Not disgusting, but not good. Unmemorable. I baked the cornbread separately, in a pan, rather than dolloping it on top of the chilli and baking the whole in the oven. This recipe serves 20. I was serving 2. I had a hunch that cornbread was going to turn into a soggy, vile mess upon sitting in the fridge and reheating. Anyway, the cornbread itself was disgusting. Totally flavorless. It would have been gross whether I followed her instructions to bake it on top of the chili or not.

Conclusion: Disliked.

Clearing the Slate

I've accrued a backlog of recipes from Rome that I've cooked, but haven't posted about. None were exceptional, so I'm just going to blast 'em out.

Conchiglie alla Caprese (pg 105) takes all the delicious elements of a caprese salad, adds capers, olives, and anchovies, then dilutes the whole thing with pasta. The best part of a caprese salad is the flavor union of mozzarella, basil, and tomato. It may not be impossible to get all three of those things in one forkful once pasta is thrown into the mix, but it doesn't happen organically.

Conclusion: Just okay. Bland. I bought the cute little trulli house-shaped pasta during my Columbus Day trip to Alberobello, which you can read about here.

Insalata Rossa (pg 151): snoozefest. Tomatoes, carrots, green onions, basil, balsamic vinegar, and olive oil do not come together as more than its individual pieces.

Conclusion: Just okay.

Pollo alla Romana con i Peperoni (pg 144), or Chicken with Tomatoes and Sweet Peppers, is the standout. The drumsticks didn't take on much flavor, so they were just normal drumsticks, but the sauce and the peppers were out of this world. I could have eaten a giant bowl of rice drowned in sauce (crisped prosciutto, a glug of white wine, tomatoes, oregano, with the soft peppers added in at the end), and been perfectly happy. No chicken necessary

Conclusion: Really liked the sauce and peppers.

I saw some parsnips (a rarity) at the Commissary last week, so I snagged them, without a plan. Feast has a recipe for Maple-Roast Parsnips (pg 25). Holy mother of God. These things are candy. Nigella says in her intro that she used to use honey and has changed it to maple syrup because it's "sweetness (is) less cloying." I can't even imagine how sweet the honey ones must have been, because I could barely make myself eat these. I am sure Charlie would have liked them, but he refused to put one in his mouth. I gave up after an hour and a half. He informed me he wanted to go to bed hungry, and so that is what he did. Grrrr.

Conclusion: Disliked. If Charlie had eaten them, I'd make them again in the future, but since he didn't, I won't. Too sweet.

Tangy

The Chilled Avocado Soup (pg 109) from Meatless suffers from the very description which initially interested me in the recipe: that it is "tangy with buttermilk." All you do to make this cold soup is whir avocado, walnuts, buttermilk, red onion, dill, vinegar, and salt in a blender. I just bought myself a new blender, so my desire to give it a go also attracted me to this soup.

Whatever else, I like the color.

It tastes like dip. If this was touted as a veggie dip, I might like it. As a soup, it's unbearable after a few spoonfuls. It has the thick texture and a buttermilk tang of ranch dip.

Conclusion: Dislike, as soup. I may dip some carrots in it with lunch tomorrow and see if that improves matters.

The other night I made Broiled Zucchini with Yogurt Sauce (pg 327) to go with the Indian Spiced Lamb Chops from Nigella Kitchen. I only mention its accompaniment because those lamb chops were awesome, and you should go make them. Anyway, this one was pretty straightforward. We often grill zucchini on the BBQ during the summer, and did so here instead of broiling. The yogurt sauce was spiced with coriander, ground mustard, and lemon juice, and it complemented the lamb nicely. It was a good little alteration on a standard recipe, and I can see myself making this one again.

Not a looker, but it tasted pretty good.

Conclusion: Liked it.

I'm Not Sure We Can Be Friends

I really do feel like I'm the lone person who has cooked/is cooking from Jerusalem who is experiencing more flops than expected.

A few weeks ago, Tara over at Tea & Cookies blogged about Ottolenghi's Shakshuka (pg 66), which she prepared for guests. On a side note, Tara writes a lovely blog and you should go check it out. She's who I want to be when I grow up: a writer, a grower of abundance, a photographer, a lover of Nature, who gets out and appreciates where she is, in the now. I planted some vegetables this year--that's a step in the right direction.

Anyway, Tara made shakshuka sound pretty awesome, and I'm sure it was, when she cooked it.

Not so much, in my kitchen.

Shakshuka is a fun name for peppers and tomatoes cooked down into a thick sauce with harissa, cumin, tomato paste, and salt. I used a lot less harissa paste than called for. Once again, Ottolenghi instructs for 1 TB. This man must suck on habanero peppers for fun. I put in a dab. It was plenty. Once that's all soft and good-looking, you make divots in the sauce and crack an egg into each divet. Simmer gently for 8-10  minutes, until the whites are set and the yolks are still runny.

I timed my eggs for 8 minutes on the lowest flame my stove could muster. Things looked good when the buzzer rang...

Perfect, right?

No. The yolks were cooked through, and the whites had acquired a disgusting rubbery texture.

Ewwwww. Worst yolk ever.

Couldn't eat the egg. It was gross. I did eat as much tomato and pepper glop on mashed black beans as I could muster. I'm still hungry.

Methinks my time with Yottam is nearing an end. I'm heading to NY in two weeks, so I'll stick with him until then, but I'm no longer itching to cook from this book, beautiful as it may be.

Conclusion: Disliked. A lot.

This Burger Has No Integrity

In Jerusalem, the photo of Turkey & Zucchini Burgers with Green Onion & Cumin (recipe on 200) is gorgeous. Bright green shreds of zucchini contrast against the reddish browning on the patties. Irresistible.

They didn't turn out at all as I expected.  The outcome may have been different if there was a step in which you drained the shredded zucchini for a half hour, but there wasn't, so these burgers were wet. I don't mean that they were moist and delicious. I mean that they were wet. I found it unpleasant to eat, and they were hard to cook. Because they were so wet, the patties lacked integrity and were falling apart in the pan. Very difficult to flip. The zucchini released so much water that the oil was spitting all over my stovetop. It aggravated me, because it felt like a poorly written recipe. Something must have been missing, because I can't imagine they're meant to be so difficult to work with. I did not make the yogurt dressing for the burgers, because I'm not supposed to eat dairy on my diet. I'm sure the sauce would have jazzed it up a bit, but the burgers themselves weren't very flavorful, despite all the mint, cilantro, garlic, cumin, cayenne, and sumac (which wasn't technically part of the burger recipe, but it was part of the sauce, so I added it to my meat). If I had to describe these burgers in one word, I'd stick with "wet."

They looked much more fetching in the book.

Conclusion: Disliked. I didn't even keep the leftovers. Charlie did eat half a patty, but I disliked these enough that I will not be making them again.

I also made Spicy Carrot Salad (pg 65). I was excited to try out my new tube of harissa paste. Holy mother of God. A tablespoon of harissa is WAY TOO MUCH spice for 3 stinkin' carrots. I'm just glad I'd halved the recipe, because this salad was inedible. Even Matt, who enjoys much hotter food than I do, stopped at one carrot slice. These went right into the garbage.

MOLTEN LAVA.

Conclusion: Hated it.

I'm beginning to suspect that Ottolenghi and I have very different food preferences. Too many of these recipes are too much--too salty, too spicy--for my taste. However, the ones that are good are great, and there are lots more I want to try. It's unsettling to me that the recipes yield such unreliable results, though.

Holy Salt-Bags, Batman!

Woah. Jerusalem and I are having some problems. Tonight, I made Lemony Leek Meatballs (pg 44, 9 points, I think, though nothing about the recipe seemed right, so I make no promises.)

I couldn't help but feel, all the way through, that something was wrong. First of all, I was a little short on leeks. The recipe calls for 6. I had about 4. When the steamed, pulsed leeks were mixed together with ground beef, a cup of breadcrumbs, and eggs, this was still a big bowl of meat, given that it was only meant to make eight 2 3/4 by 3/4 inch flat patties. I don't understand. Mine were giant hamburger size, and would have been even bigger if I'd used the correct number of leeks.

As I added 1 1/4 teaspoons of salt, I thought, "Hmm. That looks like a lot," but I forged ahead and followed instructions.

Once the patties are browned on both sides, you add chicken broth and lemon juice and simmer it for half an hour. Fortunately, I tasted a patty at this point, because the instructions say to add another half teaspoon of salt to the broth. I couldn't see why I would possibly want these patties any saltier than they already were, so I omitted that round of salt.

Again, the instructions seemed off. I needed to use more stock than specified to "almost, but not quite cover the patties."

After 30 minutes of gentle simmering, covered, you're supposed to remove the lid and cook for a few more minutes until almost all the liquid has evaporated. There was nearly as much liquid in the pan as I started with, and I didn't feel like boiling away nearly 2 cups of stock, so I just plucked the patties out.

I meant to put this on top of a salad, but my lettuce was all moldy in its bag. Yuck.

The recipe intro says "what makes these fritters so special is how well the flavor of the leeks holds its own against the meat, while the latter is more in the background..The result is featherlight texture and a sharp lemony flavor."

Um. Okay. I didn't get any of that. I definitely found the beef to dominate the leeks. All the leeks seemed to contribute was a mushy, though not unpleasant, texture. There was no lemon flavor, much less a sharp one. Perhaps if I'd boiled away all that broth, some lemon flavor would have materialized. I don't know. What I expected from this dish did not in any way match the turnout. Definitely wish there was a photo of what these patties were supposed to look like.

My tongue is salt-swollen after eating 1 of 8 patties. What's left after Matt eats will likely dawdle in my fridge, then get tossed.

Conclusion: Like the idea, and maybe it would be good with major tweaking, but dislike how this turned out. Bummer. I will not be making these again.

Uneven Start

Remember when I said I wasn't going to "do" Weight Watchers? Nix that. haha. I signed up for the online plan. We'll see how it goes. I don't intend to talk about it much. However, I do think it's interesting (though annoyingly time-consuming) to figure out the points of real-world recipes that I want to be cooking. Should anyone care, I'll mention the point value of what I'm cooking, best I can figure it out, just in case it would spare someone else the aggravation of "the Recipe Builder."

I received another gift-pile of fava from my landlord's uncle last week. Instead of once again making Marcella Hazan's crazy-delicious Roman Style fava been recipe, I decided to try Fava Bean Kuku (pg 39 of Jerusalem. Wasn't adhering to WW yet, so don't have points for you.) I was undeterred by the weirdness of the recipe, but perhaps I should have been. It's basically a frittata with fava beans, sugar, dried cherries (substituted for barberries, per the instructions), onion, garlic, saffron, and fresh mint. It's also supposed to have a full cup of dill, but I can't find dill here. I bought a seed packet and will try to grow my own, but that didn't help me now. I used some dried dill, instead.

Get out of my eggs, cherries.

This thing was really weird and unpleasant. For starters, it was very salty. The second major problem has to do with instructions. The chopped dried cherries, being the heaviest item in the bowl, sank to the bottom and dumped into the pre-heated pan unevenly. I didn't notice this problem as it happened, but I can't imagine I'm the first person it happened for. A quick instruction to stir the mixture one in the pan would have helped matters. As it was, my first slice of kuku had no cherries. My second had a thick layer that was so discordant with the other flavors that I have a visceral revulsion to the memory of it.

Conclusion: Disliked. The first, cherry-less slice wasn't terrible, but I can't get past how awful my second slice was.

This initiation into Jerusalem left me rattled. Would I be the only person who doesn't love this book?

Never fear.

Baby Spinach Salad with Dates and Almonds (pg 30, 9 WW points) is one of the best things I've ever eaten, and sumac is my new favorite spice. How have I never come across it before? Why did my friend have to go all the way to Morocco to secure some for me? It smells like it belongs in the cinnamon/nutmeg/clove family, but the flavor packs some heat. Yum. I kinda want to throw some in gingerbread, just to see what happens.

So, the salad was easy enough. Soak dates and red onion in white wine vinegar. Toast torn up pita and chopped almonds in butter and oil, then mix with sumac, chile flakes, and salt. Mix the whole lot with spinach, lemon juice, and salt. I also added a shredded turkey cutlet.

Mmmm. I want more RIGHT NOW.

This is a diet worth starving all day for. (Sorry. I'm a dramatic dieter.)

Matt's response after one bite: "That was one amazing mouthful of food. I don't think I've ever said that about a salad before." I must agree.

Conclusion: Loved it. I want to hug this salad. Spicy, sweet, chewy, and crunchy. This one needs to become a regular. Until I run out of sumac, that is.

Yick

I had misgivings about Nigella's Speedy Seafood Supper (pg 193 of Nigella Kitchen) from the outset, based upon the fact that I don't really trust frozen seafood. Especially shellfish. There are certain things in the world that just seem to demand they be eaten fresh. Mussels are one of them.

Still, every supermarket around here prominently displays packets of frozen seafood. It's usually a mix of calamari, mussels, and little shrimp. I figured I'd give it a shot, rather than potentially miss out on some easy way to keep seafood on hand.

Should have gone with my gut. I don't know that there was necessarily anything wrong with the seafood. I'm very careful when I cook fresh mussels, though, and if the shell is cracked or open and won't close when tapped before it gets cooked, I toss it without question. If the shell refuses to open after all of its buddies have given up, I toss it without question. The fact that the mussels in this frozen mix were already split in half meant that I couldn't check for these telltale warnings.

I made too much pasta. Woops.

The sauce for this seafood is quite nice. It's a lightly-flavored mix of saffron, tomato, garlic, scallions, tarragon, and white wine. But then you dump the still-frozen seafood in and only cook it for 3-4 minutes. The shrimp hadn't turned pink yet in that time, so I let it go longer. A crustacean who was in the pack (I forget what they're called. It looks like a miniature combo of a shrimp and a lobster) didn't change color at all by the time the shrimp looked done. I know when I had one of these guys in my pasta at a restaurant, it was definitely not a pale blue color. I let the sauce simmer a little longer. I don't know how you tell when mussels are done, if they aren't capable of opening their shell.

I just couldn't get past my distrust for the seafood. The mussels looked weird. I can't explain it.

Matt thought his first bite tasted nasty, but liked the rest of it.

We didn't get sick, so that leads me to believe that the seafood was fine and I'm a drama-queen. I don't think I need frozen seafood in my life, though. Matt asked me why a person would use frozen seafood when they have access to fresh. Before I started to eat, I told him that it's all about being able to throw together a nice dinner in no time, without having to stop at the store. After eating, I have to agree with him. I'll save seafood for nights when I have time to deal with the fresh stuff.

Conclusion: Dislike. The sauce would be good for fresh seafood, though.

A Quicky

Sorry I've been slow to post. A little old long-weekend trip to Barcelona interrupted the flow of things. I love Barcelona. That is all.

The day after Nigella's wonderful, gut-busting meatloaf, I figured that a lighter meal was in order. Vietnamese Pork Noodle Soup (pg 82 of Nigella Kitchen) caught my eye. I wasn't expecting greatness, but it seemed like a good way to use up some leftover roast beef that I had in the fridge (technically, the recipe calls for raw, thin-sliced pork, but I think Nigella would approve.) Much to my surprise, I was able to find bok choy at the Commissary. I used spaghetti instead of ramen noodles. In the end, the soup could have used a splash of hot sauce, but otherwise, it was pretty tasty, and a good way to breathe new life into that roast beef.

Conclusion: liked it, though I don't know that I'd go out of my way to make it if I didn't have leftovers on hand.

Arugula and Lemon Couscous (pg 90) accompanied our Valentine's Day steak. This tasted fine. Nothing special. It was very difficult to eat, though. Tiny couscous pebbles are not a complementary shape to long, unwieldy leaves of arugula.

Conclusion: Disliked, not because of the flavor, but because it was super annoying to eat.

I kept feeling like something was amiss with my Chicken with Greek Herb Sauce (pg 102). The photo in the book shows chicken that has clearly been seasoned with dark spices--paprika or something. The recipe does not instruct you to season with anything other than salt and pepper. Matt came home from the store with boneless thighs instead of bone-in, so instead of roasting the chicken, I grilled it, which I think I prefer anyway. The herb sauce was a nice mixture of yogurt with scallions, green chile, garlic, cucumber, cilantro, and mint.

Conclusion: Liked it. Easy.

If Not For the Carrots

I have several dishes from Indian Cooking to report on, and with the exception of a carrot side dish, they were all winners.

My eternal quest for different ways to cook the lowest maintenance seafood in the world (assuming that you buy them debearded, and they don't poison anyone) made it a sure-fire bet that I'd make Goan-Style Mussels (pg 117). This broth is very different from any other mussel recipe I've cooked before, and I loved it. One qualm I have, and this isn't the first of Jaffrey's recipes that's given me this problem, is that she says to make a paste of ginger, garlic, and water in the food processor, which you then cook in oil with other spices, and it becomes the base of your broth. Sounds lovely, except for one thing...

The liquid I produced from using her measurements could not in any way be considered a paste.

This recipe calls for fresh coconut, but that is just not something I feel like dealing with, so I used dried, unsweetened coconut. I was surprised by how much coconut flavor seeped into the broth.

Conclusion: Loved it. The flavors--especially the coconut--worked perfectly with the mussels.

If you can make meatloaf, you can make Jaffrey's Turkey Kebabs (pg 104). Ground turkey, mixed with spices, is formed into hamburger-sized patties, dredged in breadcrumbs, then pan-fried. I would have preferred smaller patties, but the big ones cooked through perfectly according to her timing instructions.

Conclusion: Liked it.

With it, I served Red Kidney Beans (pg 169). Man, these were delicious, but with 2/3 cup of heavy cream and three tablespoons of ghee (clarified butter, which I scored at the organic market), they're a cardiologist's nightmare. Especially because you'd never guess all that fatty goodness was in there. Oh well, it was a delicious treat, which I won't be making often.

Mmmmm. Heart attackey.

Conclusion: Loved it.

And now I come to those carrots. Carrot and Onion Salad (pg 217) didn't sound exceptionally tasty, but I had the ingredients for it, so I gave it a shot. Matt said it tasted like carrots in vinegar, which is an accurate description, despite the absence of vinegar. The dressing is lemon juice, cayenne, salt, pepper, and grated ginger. Neither one of us ate it.

Curses!

Conclusion: Disliked.

A chai-loving friend came by one morning, so I brewed up Spiced Tea (pg 234). Six teaspoons of sugar for two cups of tea is excessive for my taste. Still good, but I'd use lots less sugar in the future. Scanning the recipe, my friend said, "Wait, you just so happen to have cardamom pods in your pantry? Not cardamom, but cardamom pods?" That made me laugh. It's weird to think that a year ago, I didn't even know cardamom pods existed.

Conclusion: Liked it.

FFwD: Gerard's Mustard Tart

This week's French Friday's with Dorie selection of onion biscuits was another duplicate recipe for me, and one that I thought were good hot out of the oven, but didn't eat much of once they were cold, so I opted to cook another catch-up recipe instead. Most of the catch ups that I have left to cook are dishes that I've been avoiding for one reason or another, so I really need to buckle down and just power through them. I may be surprised.

The universally loved Gerard's Mustard Tart (pg 150 of Around My French Table) seemed like a relatively safe choice. I don't dislike mustard, exactly, but given the choice, I make sandwiches without it. I'm always shocked when the cheeseburgers at McDonald's are topped with mustard. Who does that? In Brooklyn, your McDonald's burger comes with ketchup, onions, and a pickle, as it should be. Out of state, I never EVER remember to ask them not to put mustard on it, and am always disappointed to find it there. Anyway, my point is that the only time I deliberately use mustard is on a hot dog or other sausagey treats, or as a salad dressing component. In no way was I looking forward to adding four tablespoons of it to an egg mixture, then topping it with carrots and leeks.

As my tart baked, my naysayer tune began to change. It smelled wonderful.

Hours later, when we finally ate dinner, the expectations that I'd built up around that smell crashed back to reality. Normally, Matt and I take down entire quiches in one meal (not something I advocate, unless you're a fan of bellyaches). I ate one dainty slice of this tart, and really didn't want any more. It's too one-note mustardy. Matt suggested that next time I make it, I add bratwurst to the mixture, so that it would taste like the mustard was going with something. I told him that there wouldn't be a next time. If I'm going to spend my time putzing about with a crust, it's going to be for something I want to eat.

Conclusion: Dislike. It's pretty, though.