Spinach & Bourbon

“I’m of the opinion that when it comes to Spinach, more is more.” –my husband, formerly anti-vegetable
This comes almost a year after, “I can’t believe I’m looking forward to a vegan meal.”


It’s amazing how marriage changes you.  


These last few weeks I have been thinking and writing about changing paths, or growing up, or just getting on with it.  All these posts are written by my 33 year old self thinking back to my ‘younger self’ (my entire 20s) and contemplating the difference.  Here’s what I realised recently.  


I’m married.


Right!?  It’s not like I woke up and suddenly figured it out.  I know I’m married.  
But what I’m forgetting in this reminiscing is that being married means I have someone else to consider in my plans and that I am a consideration in someone else’s plans.  
It’s simplistic, sure.  But it makes a hell of a difference.  The entire context is changed.  And not in a co-dependent way (although we are pretty inseparable) but in a completely supported way.  Like doing yoga poses at the wall or the mechanic on the trapeze.  You don’t need it, but the support is there, just in case.  


And that leads me to dinner the other night*…


My husband put ‘mac n cheese’ on this week’s meal plan.  I recently decided to quit giving my talents away for free to my ‘employer’ which means I am throwing myself back into house-wifery and giving my talents away to my faceless readers.  In my renewed zeal, I decided plain mac n cheese wouldn’t do. 


I attempted to find a recipe I vaguely remembered tearing out of a magazine, but then I found this recipe: Gnocchi with a spinach-broccoli-cheese sauce and pancetta.  Actually, the pancetta wasn’t part of the original recipe, but if it won’t completely ruin the taste of the dish, or if it doesn’t already contain a pork product, I can be counted upon to throw in pancetta.  Not really the same as mac n cheese, but I figure it’s carbs and cheese, so the basics are there.  


The first thing that happened?  I spilled my expensive bourbon.  Not a good start.  Everything halted until I rectified that situation.
Second thing that happened? I tied one on.  


An apron that is.  A locally produced apron, no less.  If the food isn’t local, at least the cooking apparel will be.  


When cooking while drinking, I recommend gathering all your supplies first.  Measure out each and every ingredient in its own individual bowl/measuring cup/glass.  This gives you the ability to just throw ingredients in, just like a TV chef.  This also gets all the prep time out of the way so that you have time to sip your drink while you wait for milk, butter and flour to boil.  This also clutters up your counterspace so that when you refill your drink, there is a very good possibility you will splash a bit of bourbon into the waiting milk.  


Other tips: 
Nutmeg. Nutmeg in a cheese sauce? Yes. Who knew nutmeg was the secret ingredient to cheese sauce?
Fried pancetta and bourbon is my new favourite cocktail.  This cocktail brought to you through extensive, measured, not-at-all-accidental, science. 


And then, 40 minutes later and an entire kitchen full of dirty dishes, I had gnocchi with spinach and broccoli cream sauce. Pancetta scattered across its top like beautiful bacon-coloured gemstones.


The verdict?  
More bourbon when cooking (that’s how marriage has changed me: cooking and bourbon.  It’s a good thing.)
More pancetta, less cheese sauce.  So he can taste the spinach.  


He pours me bourbon, I make him cheesy spinach.  It's a good thing, this marriage thing. 








*just go with it.

To thine own chocolate be true

I decided to finish the cake on a Demon Day.  Most people call it PMS or hormonal days. For me it's a Demon Day because when hormones, the housewife itch and my dramatic Sicilian tendencies mix, my husband hides in the lounge watching Formula 1 at unnecessarily loud levels.  If he has to cross my line of sight, he does it quietly like a mouse trying to get across the room with a sleeping cat (tail twitching) laying right in front of the mouse hole.  He's smart.  He's adapted.  It was the perfect day to make chocolate ganache from scratch. 




Let's back up.  The reason I decided to finish this particular cake on this particular day is because of our wedding.  On our wedding day I didn't get to eat my wedding cake.  I had the two ceremonial bites during the cake cutting portion of the evening (and also managed to drop one of those bites down my cleavage, a moment forever captured on the wedding video. Our vows didn't make it on film, but the classy cake cleavage was captured in full Technicolor with accompanying narration).  By the time I made it back to my table, the piece of cake waiting for me had been cleared.  


Last year for our first anniversary I made a small replica of our wedding cake.  I figured we had redone our wedding photos, redone our honeymoon, why not redo the cake fiasco.  I was also a little sad that, again, I would miss out on my wedding cake since the top tier was in a freezer in Cleveland and we were in London.  Dammit! I was going to have some cake!!! Last year it went relatively swimmingly, the frosting was a bit crumby, but it was brilliant. And so large and rich we had to cut it up into chunks to freeze.  We ate the last bit a few weeks ago.  


So as this anniversary approached, I prepared to do it again.  The actual baking went fine.  I make it a few days early as it only gets better with age.  It was the assembly that went tits up. In fact I woke up that day with sore tits, I should have known it wasn't the day to mess with chocolate and cream.  




I retrieved the fancy French chocolate I decided on for the ganache and got to work. Breaking it up with my mezzaluna knife, I was feeling very smug and assured in my ability to make this concoction from scratch and memory. The melting and gently folding begins and right away something is wrong.  The chocolate is melting in a gritty fashion.  Hmm, well, it is French, maybe it melts gritty and then emulsifies in to a beautiful smooth ribbon. 


No, it starts to release oil.  Oil!  What the F**k!!  All my domestic bliss and superiority begins to disappear and I start to feel the ugly cry bubbling up.  I take a few deep breaths trying to contain the completely irrational crying jag that is about to start.  It's just chocolate.  I sprinkle in a little powdered sugar thinking it is like whipping up double cream. Nope.  More oil is released.  Maybe a little raw cocoa powder.  Nope.  It begins to look more and more like something you would find in a diaper than in a beautiful chocolate stout cake.

F**K!!


At this point I start to think about how everything I attempt recently has failed and this is just one more thing to add to the list. This isn't really true, I have actually been having a run of good fortune, but what is a meltdown without letting those irrational hormones take the wheel?! With that ride comes some tears.  Why not? At this point I have lost all sense of reason. 


 F**k it!!


I pour out some of the oil in our kitchen sink,  praying it won't make that particular fixture any worse and let the chocolate slide (slide, like a big oily sh*t) into the glass measuring cup and then into the fridge thinking maybe it will cool and solidify into something usable, but at this point, pretty sure it is just going to be a cold lump of sh*t.  


I retreat to the bathroom to try and get a hold of myself before I lose it and start throwing stuff around the kitchen.  Pete is still sequestered in the lounge with one ear pricked for the pounding footsteps of his wife on the stairs so he can jump to and be the supporting husband.  He's already attempted the half hug, 'there, there' move which only makes me more frustrated because it is just pointing out that I have become completely irrational when I really just want to ignore that fact.  


Back to the fridge.  The chocolate sh*t has released more oil which is now cooling in a halo of yellow fat.  F**K!!!  


After throwing some utensils around in the sink I decide to head out to the offie and see if they have anything to offer to fix this situation.  I am routinely surprised by their offerings so I am moderately sure they will have something.  


Not today.  Today is not the day.  They have cake mix, but no frosting.  They have everything you might need to concoct an elaborate Indian feast, or just a meal with every known legume, but these Turkish brothers have nothing in the way of cocoa solids or even Betty Crocker frosting.  They have the fancy paste food colouring and three different kinds of yeast, but no baking chocolate. 


They do have Nutella.  I grab a small jar, the Sunday paper and at the last minute some chocolate bars from the candy rack.  


I hand over the change and walk outside.  The sky opens up and I walk the 500 yards back to the flat in pouring rain, dropping everything at least once.  I slam our front door with an expletive and the sun bursts forth.  


Back down to the kitchen I root around in the baking cabinet and find a small bag of baking chocolate that is probably past its 'best by' date, but what the hell, and break that up with the cheap chocolate bars I bought on impulse.  I'm going to give it one more go before I resort to the Nutella.  That's when I discover I have a huge glob of oily chocolate on the collar of my sweater and the inside of the apron.  Another glob on my neck.  


That's it.  Just pile it all on.  


At some point I have the fleeting thought, again, that this is just indicative of the past year, but, again, actually it isn't. There is a limit to the melodramatic. (Progress!) And again, I remind myself that while this past year hasn't been the best of my life, it hasn't been one f**k up after another either, even if it feels like it in this moment.  


I check the chocolate sh*t in the fridge one last time in a desperate hope.  It has released even more oil.  Where is it all coming from?  What kind of chocolate is this?  


With all patience and sense leaving me, I throw the cheap chocolate and the old chocolate into the pot with a bit of double cream and dare it to burn.  Just give me an excuse to really lose it.  As I move it gently around the pot (because even in my distress, I somehow have the patience to treat the chocolate with care) it becomes a beautiful smooth ganache.


That puts me in my place.  Who did I think I was, showing off with fancy French baking chocolate? 


I spoon the beautiful brown silk on the first layer, slice off the top of the second layer and suddenly all is right with the world (or so it seems after devouring the largish piece I sliced off).  I still have the buttercream to throw on and if last year is any clue, it won't be pretty, but it's out of a tub so at least I don't have to worry about it separating or going runny.  I don't have enough for a pure white coating but I have a new palette knife so at least it will be evenly spread.  And really, half the reason I am doing this is to have an excuse to use the palette knife. 




Three hours from the start and the cake is done and sitting under a tent of cling film.  I read the morning paper, Pete escaped the worst of the meltdown and the sun is shining.  




Perspective.  
A few years ago I wouldn't be able to tell you the difference between chocolate ganache and chocolate frosting.  I had a better chance of correctly identifying an obscure wrench than a palette or mezzaluna knife, let alone know how to use either.  


Lately I have been in a rut.  In writing, in life, in cooking.  Flying on auto and too distracted to do the work and remember what it was I really enjoyed about cooking, loving, writing.  


The cake was fabulous. 
From beginning to end.  

On to the show...

I woke this morning with the memory of trudging through high, heavy snow clutching my stick blender to my chest like a bouquet.

A few days ago I was sure piles of crumbly white cheese were waiting for me in the kitchen.

The title of housewife has now attached itself to my unconscious identity.

Or, I'm inordinately fond of my stick blender and crumbly cheese.

Both these statements are true.

If you recall, in my Christmas recap I mentioned I received a lot of domestic gadgets. I have finally used them all and am here to tell the tale of one in particular.

Like any housewife worth her salt*, I lust after a Kitchen Aide standing mixer and its rainbow of attachments. Also like many housewives, I do not have the counterspace for such a gadget. This Christmas, I got the next best thing. A stick blender with numerous attachments. Thus far I have only used it to blend my soups. But it is a treat. (It is no secret that Pete is also excited about this particular gadget. It came with a large whisk attachment which means I now have no excuses to not try and produce a Pavlova for an upcoming birthday.)

Before the sleek little thing that is the stick blender entered our lives, I was constantly pulling down my blender from its perch high on the bookshelf/pantry and risking an avalanche of glassware every time. (I also was enduring random displays of sparks and flying vegetables.) Now I have my zippy stick blender. Name to be determined.

We are now fast friends, however the initial stages of our relationship were rocky. We found each other through the medium of Pete. I admit I was a bit apprehensive about the stick blender the first evening. And like dogs it sensed fear and proceeded to spray the kitchen backsplash with puree carrots and butter bean. Pete took over and muscled the blender and soup into submission. The next time, the damn blender suctioned itself to the bottom of the pot despite my careful and measured angle of usage. Again, a backsplash of pureed vegetables, this time potato and leek. Again, Pete took over.

The third time was charmed. We were familiar with each other. We calmly discussed our issues. The lentils and pepper swirled themselves into a beautiful harvest orange.

Of course the reality of the situation was more about me being in a hurry and a bit miffed about dinner and not having enough free mind space to be concerned about the damn stick blender and just shoving it in the pot and getting the damn soup on the table.

Let's stick to the charmed version of events, shall we?


So now we are fast friends and working together like an athletic team with potential but we all know will choke when it comes to the Big Show--The Pav




*This saying, or at least its meaning, apparently dates way back to when salt was worth more than gold, according to our Moroccan tour guide. He was asleep and/or possibly hung over for the majority of our trip so this could be cmplete BS.

Two for One

You thought I forgot about you.  Not so at all.  I also did not forget about my promise last Friday. 

However, yesterday I was having one of the those great days where all your effort is validated.  I was too busy celebrating with baked goods and wine to put my gratitude into words. 

So today, you get two stories of gratitude and a soup recipe.  What a deal.

28.  A really great day

Yesterday was my first day of volunteering.  It has been a long slog to get a volunteer position anywhere and we moved our Moroccan holiday back so I could attend the interview for this position.  The slightly embarrassing part, for me, about this volunteer interview is that I applied for the position of the woman who interviewed me.   We also did our PhDs at the same university at the same time.  Regardless, I have the volunteer position and yesterday I walked to ‘work.’  It was a great fall morning.  The morning rain shower was over and it wasn’t too cold.  In a fit of optimism, to go along with my excitement about this first day, I packed a bag to hit the gym on the way home. 

The day went well.  It is a very self-directed position, but I got to show off my people skills, handled some Tudor artefacts, and proposed a new project.  Perhaps a bit overkill on the first day, but my boss sent me a very excited email at the end of the day, so I think I am on the right track.  It felt good to be back in this particular field and it validated my choice to step away from traditional Academia.

On the way home, I talked myself into actually going to the gym for my run.  Which at first I was regretting because running on a treadmill SUCKS HARDCORE after running on the street, but I sweat more than I have in a long time, so I figure that is a bonus.  When I got home and immediately ate a brownie and the last slice of pumpkin cheesecake, I felt completely justified in my snack choices. 

When the days are getting shorter and you feel your mood dimming with the sunlight, a day like yesterday is needed to remind you that it is just the season that is going dark, not your life choices.  It gives you something to talk about when the day goes dark at 3 instead of desperately looking for a re-run you can stomach watching, yet again. 

Yesterday I was thankful for this great day and the validation it brought to a very hard decision.

27.   Homemade soup

Another great part of the day was making dinner.  There are some days when I can’t be bothered making dinner.  It doesn’t usually come from exhaustion, but lack of inspiration. 

One of the contributors to our travel exhaustion at the end of Morocco was linked to food.  We were exhausted with the lack of choices.  For almost as long as we have wanted to go to Morocco, we have wanted to own a tagine.  A conical baking dish and the meal prepared within.  We kept ignoring the ones that would pop up at TK or at John Lewis.  We were determined to get an authentic one from Morocco.  After about Day 7, we were over it.  If I never see another tagine in my life, it will be too soon.   Don’t get me wrong, we had some wonderfully flavourful tangines in our 18 day adventure, but we also had a lot of not-so wonderful concoctions. 

On our first day home we made Potato Leek Soup.  It is an incredibly simple recipe.  But for some reason it is also a magical one.  I am not alone in this thought.  Julie Powell, author of Julie & Julia, cited Julia Child’s version as the spark for the year-long cooking project which ‘saved’ her life.  In my kitchen it served as a bit of a saviour as well.  But for our stomachs.  I was still throwing up from my last round of Moroccan Malaise and this stayed down nicely. 

Creating this very simple meal revealed to me perhaps why I was so reluctant to eat in Morocco near the end.  I had no hand in the creation of the food.  In this last year (and a bit) as a housewife I have found much joy and inspiration in cooking.  I complain and moan and pout, but overall I find it very calming to go through the motions of creating meal from scratch and watch it come together just as it should.  When my timing and rhythm is right, the plate-ing of a dish is the equivalent of a circus TA-DA.

Today, I am thankful for home-made soup. 

‘SPICY’ RED LENTIL SOUP

2 Tbl olive oil

1.5 tsp cumin

.5 tsp coriander

.25 tsp cinnamon & red pepper flakes

1 medium red pepper (de-seeded and diced)

2 medium carrots (peeled and chopped)

850 ml veggie stock

225g split red lentils

Salt*

Heat the oil in a soup pot.  Add the cumin, coriander, cinnamon & pepper flakes for about 30 seconds.  Mix with the oil.  Add the pepper and carrots and cook until tender (about 5 minutes).

Add the stock and lentils and salt.  Bring to a boil, then simmer until the lentils are tender (about 20 minutes).

Blend in whatever way works best for you.  I do batches in the blender with the steam vent open.  Others use a food processor. 

Serve with either a dollop of plain yogurt or onion bagel & Gruyere croutons.

* these are the measurements from the original Weight Watchers recipe.  I don't measure anymore and just sprinkle spices and salt flakes until it looks and smells right.  The spices are usually are a bit more equal in my version.

Life as Ginger Chicken Salad

It’s Friday!  Welcome to ‘The Chronicles of a Reluctant Housewife’ where I document my love/hate relationship with my current occupation.

I have a lot of thoughts about house-wifing today.  I haven’t been able to put them in a sensible form, although I think this picture sums me up right now.

Maps, Laundry & Sparkle.
(please ignore the dingy bath towel)

And I’m kinda fine with that…for now.

Despite my muddled brain, I wanted to give you something today, so I am offering up my ginger chicken salad recipe.  This started as a recipe I tore out of a magazine and now I can’t even remember the original.  I pre-made this yesterday afternoon.  This is not a usual or necessary step, however, I had defrosted the chicken the day before and we ended up having pizza for dinner (I know, housewife fail) and yesterday we were both out doing our own thing and ate separately so it needed to be done.  Luckily, it is not a hard recipe, but the chicken does have to marinade, so allow time.

What you need:

-Enough chicken for however many people are eating.  I would say a breast each is fine.  Cut into whatever form you wish.  For salad I like strips, for pasta, maybe chunks. Your call.

-Stuff to make your favourite salad base. This time around I used Red Cos Lettuce, seedless cucumber, spring onions, red and orange peppers, strawberries, sliced almonds, feta, cran-raisins, avocado, Newman’s Own balsamic dressing

-olive oil

-runny honey

-garlic cloves crushed (or garlic powder if you’re feeling lazy)

-Chinese five spice (or black pepper, powdered cloves, powdered cinnamon, which does not make Chinese five spice, but is what we use and prefer)

-grated ginger root (or powdered ginger, which is what we usually use)

-griddle or grill pan

-baking sheet covered in foil

-oven

For the marinade:

This depends on the amount of chicken, and your personal tastes.  I no longer measure, but I will give it a shot. I marinade in a bowl but I am sure it works just as well, if not better, in a large freezer bag. All measurements are ‘-ish.’  Feel free to experiment.

-2 TBL olive oil

-1 TBL runny honey

-1 tsp Chinese five spice (or equivalent)

-2 tsp grated ginger (or equivalent)

-2-3 cloves crushed garlic

Pretty, No?

Mix it all up, throw in the chicken pieces, mix it up again making sure the pieces are equally covered.  Unlike most marinades, this isn’t really liquid-y.  When you first throw the chicken in, it may appear that you haven’t made enough. You have, just keep mixing, it will eventually coat all the pieces. 

Let the marinade sit, preferably in the fridge, for at least a half hour. 

While the chicken is relaxing in its spice rub, do a few pre-dishes* and prepare the baking sheet with foil.  Get out the grill pan, find some tongs or other implement to handle the chicken, and turn on the oven.  I think I pre-heat mine to about 180-200C, but I can’t be entirely sure. 

After 30 minutes:

-Turn up the heat on your grill pan/griddle.  NEVER oil the grill/griddle.  It will smoke you out.  ALWAYS oil the meat/veg.  Your chicken pieces are good to go due to the oil in the marinade.  Make sure the griddle is HOT!!  If not, you will lose most of your chicken to the grill.

-When hot, start laying the pieces of chicken onto the grill.  They seriously only need to be on there for a few seconds each side.  The object is to ‘mark’ or sear each piece, not cook it.  You are locking in the flavours and moisture (I think).  If you’re reading this while cooking, you probably have already left the chicken on too long! Go! Turn them or get them off the grill! Transfer the ‘marked’ pieces to the baking sheet.  Depending on how much chicken, you might have to do this in a few batches. 

I think the red salt-pig in the back makes the shot, yes?

-When all pieces are seared and on the baking sheet, take a brush and brush any remaining marinade onto the seared pieces.  There really shouldn’t be much left in the bowl, but you want to get the most out of those spices. 

-Then pour some boiling water into your grill pan (heat is obviously off at this point).  You have inevitably left a lot of chicken on the grill and this will enable you to wash it a bit easier. 

-Throw the baking sheet into the pre-heated oven for 15-20 minutes.  Check around 15. 

-During this time I like to make the salad bases and do some more pre-dishes.

After 15 minutes:

Check the chicken.  Depending on your taste, you may want to remove them.  We like ours a little bit crispy, so we go a bit longer.  However, we have a fan oven and the food at the front cooks faster if we don’t rotate (I rarely rotate) so we get a nice selection of juicy crispy pieces. 

When the chicken looks right to you, pull it out, turn off the oven (I do tend to forget this step) and divide between salad bases.  Add dressing.  Enjoy.

No, it's not a salad balancing on a fork.
Blogger flipped the photo and I can't be bothered to fix it.

This is a regular meal around here and if you have timed it right, you only have the dinner plates, cutlery and baking sheet to wash at the end.  Extra Bonus!!

A meal that is tasty, quick, and allows for housework multi-tasking.  It's the perfect recipe for the Reluctant Housewife.   

*pre-dishes are dishes washed during food preparation, before the meal is actually consumed.  I like to get as many done as possible during this time.  It isn't always doable, but with meals I know well, and a good soundtrack, I can manage it.  Sometimes.

Happy S'mores

Two weekends ago I had a hankering for s’mores.  No real reason.  I just decided I had to have some melted marshmallow.  Actually, I think it started when we popped into an Antipodean food shop a few weekends ago and in the Canadian section they had bags of proper marshmallows.  I bought two. 

I was hard pressed to find the other ingredients.  Maybe if I had planned ahead they wouldn’t have been, but I decided Saturday morning I wanted s’mores Saturday night, so I was limited to the local shops.  Instead of Graham Crackers I got Digestives, and instead of Hershey’s I went for a bunch of small Lindt Dark Chocolate bars, and instead of sticks from the woods for roasting I dug out some bamboo skewers. 

We fired up the chiminea (which makes it sound like a faster process than it is in actuality) and got to roasting. 



I won’t lie, it was a tad dangerous.  The skewers were short and we had to basically stick our hands in the flames to get the right roasting angle.  I was going for the nice uniform camel brown that my mom was always so good at obtaining. 

Well that didn’t happen.  After waiting like an impatient child, skewered marshmallow in hand, for the chiminea to be ready, I was waiting no longer.  Into the flame it went.  There is nothing like a flaming marshmallow to bring back memories of childhood camping mishaps.  How many burnt fingers and tongues?  How many lost mallows in the fire? How many flying flaming mallows?

Ah memories. 

Then, yesterday I heard it was National S’mores Day.   See?  I am psychic!  So we just had to have s’mores again.  However, this time I wasn’t willing to wait for the chiminea. 

This time the chocolate had bits of orange.  (I had eaten all the bars I bought for last time.)

YUM!!! 

Again, we went for the flaming option.  What is s’mores without a bit of charring?

Sadie's Kitchen

I'm hungry today.  I want to eat every meal on our list this week all at once.  Instead, I am posting some photos of dishes that seemed to warrant a photo at the time.  It's a safe bet I wasn't as ravenous as right now.  Because right now, the idea of taking photos of the plate before diving in (in fact, who needs a plate? I have been known to eat directly out of the pot, although I usually managed to get the pot to the couch.) seems like a huge waste of time. 

But here you go, recipes to follow the next time I decide to add them to the meal list.  Most of these I make frequently, but I still pull the recipe out each time, even if I never look at it.  That way, if something goes wrong, I can blame it on the oven or the stove because obviously it wasn't me, I was *following* the recipe.  No operator's error here.


This first one is a staple soup for the rainy/cold months (so every week).  In the winter we enjoy at least one soup a week in lieu of big comfort food dishes.  They prove just as comforting but keep the winter insulation layer to a minimum.

Carrot, Red Pepper and Cumin Soup

Counter to that, in the warmer months we make big salad dishes twice a week.  This one is a bit of an ongoing experiment.  The first time I fried the chorizo to within an inch of their 'lives' to accidentally create a new kind of crouton.  Still good.  Is chorizo ever not good?  It's like bacon. 

Chorizo and Roast Veggie Salad

In more chorizo adventures, this is the dish we take to all BBQ/Picnic to which we are invited.  This summer (i.e. those two weekends in April that made us all believe we may actually get a summer this year.  Silly us.) we made this three times in two weekends.  Love it!!!!

Chorizo Potato Salad

This next one is also a staple.  It's different everytime, but always good.  This was the first time we added beansprouts (they were hanging around the fridge threatening to go slimy).  Pete usually handles this meal.  I do the cabbage underneath, but Pete mixes the sauce depending how he is feeling that day (the secret is in the sauce).

Soy Chicken on a bed of Savoy Cabbage

I haven't made this next one in a while, but it always surprises me.  It is a simple recipe, if I am remembering correctly, but the flavours are awesome.  Of course, fresh dill is mandatory, no exceptions. 

Courgette and Prawn Pasta

I am in no way a chef/foodie, but I think these attempts put my single-gal one-pot boiling cooking to shame.  Still eating on the couch, though.  Baby steps.  Baby steps to the kitchen table. (Anyone else have a flash to 'What about Bob?' there?)  Funnily enough, it would only take a baby step to reach the kitchen table, but we still prefer to carry dinner up eight steps to the couch.  A mindful attempt to insert exercise into our daily lives or an addiction to 'Friends' repeats? 

Maybe we just focus on the food here?  Agreed?

With that, I am heading to the kitchen to rustle up another chorizo dish.  We may have two addictions to deal with...

Shop Well

It’s Friday!!   Welcome to ‘The Chronicles of a Reluctant Housewife’ where I document my love/hate relationship with my current occupation.

And…Scene. *movie clapper*  Demon day ended much as it began.  Unexpectedly.  I finally dragged myself off the couch and went for a run (mostly because I have a dress to fit into for Ascot next week and it might be a stretch) and then everything that comes after the run (stretching, showering, etc) which led to more activity and by the time Pete came home I was feeling slightly better and really looking forward to our Turkey Tacos (we have gotten almost too healthy over here) followed by the last big slice of ginger cake with vanilla thick cream. 

As with last week.  I don’t feel like I have much Housewifey stuff to talk about today.  At the book club last week we discussed this term, ‘housewife’ a bit.  Why do I feel like a housewife now when I am pretty much doing everything I did when I was a student?  I guess the answer is, before, the housewife stuff (chores, food, etc.) was a side venture to my studies, now it is my only focus beyond job searching and putting off writing.  And I guess I prefer the housewife title to the job-seeker title.  Maybe if I was a competent sewer or hobbyist of some sort, the housewife stuff would again be a side venture but, I don’t really have any hobbies.  It was one of my resolutions for this year to find a hobby I really enjoyed.  Six months down and I’m not quite there yet.  Still searching. 

But I do have to say that since taking on the Housewife title I have enjoyed cooking more and more.  I still detest creating the meal plan for the week but I do enjoy the actual cooking.  I am trying out new recipes each week and have started making notes for the next time.  I know this doesn’t sound like a big deal, but this is coming from the girl that thought throwing some canned tuna and frozen peas into Kraft Mac n Cheese was gourmet. 

In light of this budding hobby I am going to let you in on my meal strategy.  I know you didn’t ask, but I’m putting it out there.  Here is why I call it a strategy.  A fridge that is full but cannot offer up a meal is a huge annoyance to me.  Before I learned to cook, I didn’t notice this phenomenon, but now it drives me a bit looney.  Actually, now that I think about it, I’m pretty sure my single-hood fridge was a victim but since I considered a bowl of instant rice or popcorn a suitable dinner, I didn’t notice.  If your fridge suffers from this disease, here is the cure. 

Move into a flatshare where you get two shelves in the fridge, one shelf in the freezer and one cupboard to store all your food.  I’m completely serious.  Okay, if you don’t want to sell your home and move into a flatshare, downsize your fridge or, at the very least, declare particular DFZ (de-foodized zones) shelves in the fridge and cupboards.  Here’s why.  When you have limited space you really have to pay attention and plan ahead in order for you not to waste food or money. 

Sit down with your partner or family and think about what is coming up in the week.  If that isn't possible, sit down with yourself and a nice cup of tea or coffee or whatever.  How many meals need to be provided from your kitchen?  Do you have dinner dates or potlucks or whatever?  Do you make breakfast and lunch everyday or do you purchase?  Do you need left-overs for lunches? You get the picture.

Now, decide what those meals will be.  I know this sound Herculean if you have a bunch of people to satisfy, but it is possible.  We do this a few ways.  We have a running list of meals we have a hankering for, or really love, or want to try out.  This has been built up over the past five years.  When we started planning meals we did the same three every week; ‘spag bol,’ sweet ‘n’ sour chicken from a jar over instant rice, lasagna and then some take-away.   We have progressed a bit since then.  When planning the meals, don’t worry about figuring out which meal will happen when, just know that you need to come up with 6 dinners, 7 breakfasts, 3 lunches, 1 potluck, etc.  You may also take a look in your fridge and freezer and cupboards and see if there is something that needs to be used.  It may also help to make sure you have quick meals as well as time-consuming meals.  So those nights when you just can’t be asked, you know there is a fast meal waiting.

For example, this is what we had down for this week (pay no attention to the effort required, I obviously have more time on my hands than some).

Chicken Pad Thai

Chorizo & butternut salad

Egg, spinach & pepper bake

Carrot & bean soup with leek & feta toast

Turkey taco kit

Pork chop, butternut & tenderstem broccoli

Prawn stirfry (precut veggies and sauce packet)

Pete buys his breakfast and lunch during the week.  I have porridge and blueberries every morning and left overs for lunch or a salad with tuna.  This week I left out the dessert, but we still had half the ginger cake from last week.

Next, figure out what you need to make these meals happen.  What ingredients do you already have?  What do you need to get?  Make a list of what you need to complete these meals. 

That’s it.  Your food shopping list is done and you know that everything you buy is going to be used by the end of the week.  Every time you open the fridge you know that there is a meal that can be made.  It takes the guess work (and so some of the stress) out of meal prep.  Yes? But here's the thing, you still have to go to the store and purchase it all.  With list in hand and meals planned out, I find we don't wander aimlessly up and down the aisles just buying random stuff that looks good.  We also always go together.  I know this isn't possible for everyone, but we go together and we have a system while we are there that we have honed so that we are normally done with groceries (door to door, and we walk there and back) in an hour.  Pete heads straight for the fruit, I gather up the veggies.  We head to the meat which Pete picks out while I move through dairy.  We meet up in the grains, discuss and move off again.  We usually end up in paper goods, take one last look on the list and then Pete heads to a check out line while I run for whatever we forgot.  In line, I pack (four bags at most since we are walking the stuff home), he pays and we are off.

So there it is.  That’s our strategy.  If all goes well, we have a fairly empty fridge by the time we go to the grocery each week and have enjoyed some nice meals with minimal stress. 

Go forth!  Plan, cook, enjoy.

Asparagus!!!

Today’s post is brought to you by the letter A.  A for Asparagus.

I didn’t eat Asparagus until I moved to London.  I don’t know why I agreed to eat it in the first place, I mean it looks bizarre and not at all appetizing, but I will never look back.  It is currently asparagus season and if you can get fresh asparagus it is like 5 million percent better.  Today I bring you the two ways we eat asparagus around here. 

Simple Grilled Asparagus

What you need:

Fresh asparagus, hard bottoms trimmed

A little olive oil

A stovetop grill pan

Parmesan shavings & lemon juice (for garnish)

What you do:

After trimming the asparagus, spray or gently drizzle with olive oil. (a little tip, if you oil the asparagus on the grill, or oil the grill, it will smoke you out of your kitchen)

When the grill is really hot, lay the spears out, perpendicular to the grill ridges.

Let the asparagus sit here until they start turning a richer green, then turn over so they are equally ‘marked’ by the grill.  The timing really depends on the thickness of the asparagus.  If you have a diverse range of asparagus width, I recommend putting the thicker ones on first.

When ready, gently lift the spears off the grill onto a plate.  Drizzle with a few drops of lemon juice and garnish with parmesan shavings.  Done. 

You’re welcome!

Creamy Prawn Pasta

What you need:

3 servings of raw jumbo prawns

4 large cloves of garlic, crushed

Asparagus spears (at least 10, more is better, obviously), trimmed into about 1.5 inch sections

5 fl. oz. double cream

Olive oil

Pasta for 3, whatever kind you prefer (we do bowties)

Salt & pepper

Fresh basil  (optional)

What you do:

Get your water boiling and throw in your pasta (feel free to salt or oil as you prefer).  With a little olive oil, sauté up the asparagus pieces to your liking and remove to a bowl.  Turn off the heat and add a little more olive oil.  Let it cool a bit and crush the garlic directly into the olive oil, then turn the heat on (this keeps the garlic from browning too quickly in the oil).  When the garlic is a delicious golden brown throw in your prawns.  When they are nice and pink and curled in on themselves (meaning cooked), throw the asparagus back in and then pour the double cream over the mixture.  You may want to turn the heat down a little here.  Let the cream bubble away, stirring occasionally until it starts to thicken.  Season with salt and pepper to your taste.  We prefer freshly ground black pepper and Maldon sea salt flakes (they just make you feel like that much better of a cook).  Your pasta should be done at this point, so dump it out, rinse it and mix it in.  Serve immediately.  Garnish with fresh basil leaves,  if you like basil.  Pete doesn’t, so we usually leave this step out. 

(We first made this recipe with peas instead of asparagus, which is a good option if there is no asparagus to be found)

Go forth to your local farmer's market and get your asparagus on!

Rejection, thy name is Banana Cake

I have slowly been collecting proper kitchenware.  I used to have a thing for office supplies.  Now I get excited about mixing bowls and lemon zesters.  Mostly this has just meant swapping out my plastic IKEA kitchen starter set bowls with nice ceramic LeCreuset items (it’s not as expensive as it sounds.  T.K. Maxx is awesome for these deals) and acquiring non-stick pans.  I find that cooking is just so much more satisfying when you have proper grown-up tools. 

My last two purchases have been specifically for one particular recipe; Banana Cake. 

This is usually Pete’s recipe.  He was the cook when we got together.  I could barely make rice.  This cake is suppose to be a tiny layer cake, but Pete always makes it in a loaf tin. It still works but just takes longer to cook and tends to get a crispy crust.  Always lovely.  The two times I have attempted the cake it has gone horribly wrong.  I then gave up and left it to Pete. 

As I have slowly taken over the majority of our culinary life, I refuse to let this simple recipe get the better of me.  It only has five ingredients and three directions.  I was going to make this cake. After the disaster of the flourless cake last weekend, I went out and got a hand mixer (the better to cream the sugar and butter of this recipe) and a proper round cake tin.

Today, after I got a personal rejection for the job I have been daydreaming about, I decided it was the perfect time to bake a cake.  (You’ll be happy to hear I took the rejection well. No tears, no wobbly chin or voice. I even managed a smile.)  I took off my jewelery and got stuck in. 

Out came the mixer, the new tin and the new bowls.  I haven’t used a hand mixer since I was a kid helping my mom.  And then I think all I really did was lick the cage-looking things that do the actual work.  I dumped the butter and sugar in a bowl and started up the mixer. 

Clumps of butter and sugar went spinning out the bowl.  I wiped my face off (good thing I had an apron on), tied my hair back and tried again.  I finally got the hang of the creaming situation and continued on.  I needed sifted flour.  I don’t have a sifter so I propped my IKEA wire strainer over a bowl and gave it a little shake.  It was all coming together.  I folded in and gently stirred and poured the yellow batter into the cake pan and into the oven it went. 

As I was washing up I noticed I had somehow managed to get batter on my trouser leg.  Didn’t feel so great about getting properly dressed  this morning at that moment.  I didn’t even get through the day without dropping something on myself.  Typical. (Stay tuned for more on this adventure later in the week.) 

25 minutes later, the timer went off and I peered into the oven expecting an unrisen mess.  But low and behold, there was a beautiful golden brown cake that ‘sprung back when lightly pressed.’ 

SUCCESS!!!

Rejection, thy name is no longer banana cake.

BANANA CAKE

4 oz. butter

4 oz. caster sugar

2 eggs

4 oz. self raising flour, sifted

2 bananas, mashed

Icing sugar, to dust

Grease a 9inch cake tin and pre-heat oven to 180 (350)

Cream the butter and sugar until light and fluffy.  Add the eggs, one at a time, adding a tablespoon of flour with the second egg.  Fold in the remaining flour with the mashed banana.

Pour batter into greased tin and bake for 20-25 minutes until cake springs back when lightly pressed. Turn out on a wire rack to cool.  Dust with icing sugar.