Today I was waiting in the gargantuan line at Whole Foods that forms every day at dinner time. They are very smart with their marketing and placement and I'm always tempted with cupcakes and rice pudding and fancy chocolates and two-bite blueberry scones (which I have succumbed to the temptation before) and all sorts of other goodies. It's quite difficult to wait in that line without buying anything. Who wouldn't want a cupcake in its very own plastic cupcake carrying case?
While I was waiting in line today, my wandering eyes fell upon the parmesano reggiano display. Nothing exciting going on there (no chocolates exploding out of the display or anything) and just as my eyes were going to wander to something more interesting I saw the sign: "freshly grated parmesan."
Huh. That's funny, I had the impression that freshly grated cheese meant that it needed to be grated as needed. Like, for instance, if a recipe called for "freshly grated parmesan cheese" they meant, that you stop cooking, you pull out the block of cheese and the grater and you grate it. It does not mean GO TO THE STORE AND BUY PRE-GRATED CHEESE. Even if the sign on the cheese display says "freshly grated." At some point this must be false advertising, but I'm guessing the FDA does not regulate the time between cheese grating and putting it on display. Even if there was someone actually standing there grating the cheese, it would NOT be fresh by the time you used it. Even if you somehow managed to breeze through the Whole Foods line and ran out the front door. Hmmm...unless I guess you lived in Columbus Circle, then you're essentially home already, so it would be fresh (but you'd also have so much money that you probably also have a chef that would freshly grate your cheese for you). But that's only if there was a guy/gal standing there grating it. I can guarantee it was at the very least HOURS since it was grated.
So I went to the dictionary to see if maybe there was another definition for fresh that would explain this sign. Let's see...
"retaining the original properties unimpaired; not stale or spoiled" - no, definitely not. it's definitely been "impaired" in the grating process (fresh or not fresh).
"looking youthful and healthy" - nah, don't think so
"not tired or fatigued; brisk; vigorous" - hmm... maybe, but how can I tell if cheese is "not tired"?
"forward or presumptuous" - ha! maybe this is it. at the very least it's presumptuous to advertise the cheese as being freshly grated.
Anyway, all I really have to say is that the point of freshly grated cheese is that it actually tastes better. Plus it's just a big fat lie if they say that it is freshly grated, when clearly it is not. But I have to hand it to them, they are definitely capitalizing on people's stupidity.
Monday, March 26, 2007
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
Uncorned corned beef
I am a big fan of the corned beef, Jeff, well, not so much. Not that he doesn't like it, per se, more that he doesn't like to eat it. And one of the meals that I very much look forward to every year, next to Thanksgiving of course, is corned beef and cabbage on St. Patrick's day. Now last year I was an ambitious, do-it-yourselfer and made the whole thing start to finish. It was fantastic, but we ended up with about 4 pounds of leftover corned beef. So this year, I decided that perhaps it wasn't the best idea to spend a week corning beef and $30 (or whatever it is) for the meat, only to eat a half a pound of it.
So this year, I decided on Shepherd's Pie for St. Patrick's Day, much easier and quicker and simpler, and I didn't have to be on top of my game a week before I wanted to actually eat (to start the preparations). But somewhere between Monday and Friday I was watching a Food Network show, Everyday Italian, and she made an Italian pot roast that looked so delicious that I had to make it as soon as possible. I figured that I could make Shepherd's pie with the leftovers and that pot roast was kind of like corned beef in that it was slow cooked meat that was tender and delicious. It's almost the same, right? So what if it's a different cut of beef, not actually brined, and that we didn't actually eat it on St. Patrick's Day.
So I headed to the store for a four pound block of chuck roast, an unfamiliar cut of beef to me. Jeff asked me where it came from (to which I replied "the cow"), and all I knew was that it is a tough cut...that is, best cooked for a very long time. Which usually means it's from the shoulder area or some other part that gets a lot of exercise. I found this terrible diagram which lays it out, and as it turns out, it is from the shoulder (I sang a little "I am so smart, s-m-r-t" song in my head ... Simpson's anyone??). The diagram is terrible because it has things on it like "ground beef" and "stew" as if those cuts of meat come off the cow directly in their ground or chopped form. Anywho, back to the pot roast.
So I'm not exactly sure what a "normal" pot roast consists of, apparently because according to my mom "you didn't eat used to eat pot roast" - so not ever have really eaten it, I wasn't sure what to put in it. The one I saw on Everyday Italian was obviously Italian-ized and I wanted something a little more traditional. In typical fashion I found a few recipes and then made up my own. I think, however, the real success of this dish (those who tasted it feel free to contradict) was the sauce. And this was pretty much my own pure genius (not to toot my own horn or anything). After the pot roast finished it's 3 hour marathon braise, I took out the meat and surveyed the surviving ingredients left in the pot. It didn't look terribly appetizing, mostly mashed up vegetables and herbs floating in fat (I told you it didn't sound appetizing). Determined to make this into a sauce, I skimmed the fat and then surveyed the fridge. Wine and broth. Perfect.
I added some wine and some broth until it had enough liquid that I could use my handy-dandy immersion blender. I whizzed it up and gave it a taste...dee-freakin'-licious. So it wasn't corned beef, but it certainly hit the spot for my longing of tender slow cooked meat, plus I didn't have to do it a week in advance. Of course, we ate almost all of it and there was no hope of Shepherd's pie with the leftovers...maybe next year.
Pot Roast
1 3-4 pound chuck roast
2 T of olive oil
1 large onion, sliced
3-4 stalks of celery, chopped into big chunks
6-8 cloves of garlic, chopped fine
1 cup of mushrooms
2 sprigs of rosemary
4 sprigs of thyme
1 cup of chicken or beef broth
1 cup of the juice from canned tomatoes and a couple of the tomatoes too (or you could probably use 1 15 oz can of diced tomatoes)
1/2 cup red wine
broth as needed
Heat the olive oil in a dutch oven over medium-high heat until hot (not smoking). Liberally salt and pepper the meat on all sides and put into the pan. Brown the meat on all sides, and as tempting as it is to either a) move the meat a lot or b) not let it brown for very long, resist the temptation! The total browning time should take about 15 minutes, about 4 or so minutes on each side. Remove meat from pan and add onions and garlic and saute for 3-4 minutes and then add the celery. Cook until vegetables begin to soften, a couple more minutes. Add the 2 cups of liquids - broth and tomato juice, and scrape down the pan, getting all the luscious bits off the bottom. Add the herbs (whole, on the stem), the mushrooms and the meat and bring to a boil. Season with salt and pepper and turn the heat down and cover and simmer over low heat for about 3 hours until tender (knife should go in easily). Remove the meat, stems from the rosemary and thyme (all of the leaves should have fallen off) and the mushrooms and set aside. Skim fat off the top and turn the heat up. Add the wine and let it reduce for a couple of minutes and then add enough broth to be able to use the immersion blender (or alternatively, if you're putting it in a blender, add enough to make a thick gravy-like sauce). Taste it and add salt and pepper (or more broth or more wine) as needed. Let the meat rest for 15 minutes, cut, smother with sauce, and enjoy!
So this year, I decided on Shepherd's Pie for St. Patrick's Day, much easier and quicker and simpler, and I didn't have to be on top of my game a week before I wanted to actually eat (to start the preparations). But somewhere between Monday and Friday I was watching a Food Network show, Everyday Italian, and she made an Italian pot roast that looked so delicious that I had to make it as soon as possible. I figured that I could make Shepherd's pie with the leftovers and that pot roast was kind of like corned beef in that it was slow cooked meat that was tender and delicious. It's almost the same, right? So what if it's a different cut of beef, not actually brined, and that we didn't actually eat it on St. Patrick's Day.
So I headed to the store for a four pound block of chuck roast, an unfamiliar cut of beef to me. Jeff asked me where it came from (to which I replied "the cow"), and all I knew was that it is a tough cut...that is, best cooked for a very long time. Which usually means it's from the shoulder area or some other part that gets a lot of exercise. I found this terrible diagram which lays it out, and as it turns out, it is from the shoulder (I sang a little "I am so smart, s-m-r-t" song in my head ... Simpson's anyone??). The diagram is terrible because it has things on it like "ground beef" and "stew" as if those cuts of meat come off the cow directly in their ground or chopped form. Anywho, back to the pot roast.
So I'm not exactly sure what a "normal" pot roast consists of, apparently because according to my mom "you didn't eat used to eat pot roast" - so not ever have really eaten it, I wasn't sure what to put in it. The one I saw on Everyday Italian was obviously Italian-ized and I wanted something a little more traditional. In typical fashion I found a few recipes and then made up my own. I think, however, the real success of this dish (those who tasted it feel free to contradict) was the sauce. And this was pretty much my own pure genius (not to toot my own horn or anything). After the pot roast finished it's 3 hour marathon braise, I took out the meat and surveyed the surviving ingredients left in the pot. It didn't look terribly appetizing, mostly mashed up vegetables and herbs floating in fat (I told you it didn't sound appetizing). Determined to make this into a sauce, I skimmed the fat and then surveyed the fridge. Wine and broth. Perfect.
I added some wine and some broth until it had enough liquid that I could use my handy-dandy immersion blender. I whizzed it up and gave it a taste...dee-freakin'-licious. So it wasn't corned beef, but it certainly hit the spot for my longing of tender slow cooked meat, plus I didn't have to do it a week in advance. Of course, we ate almost all of it and there was no hope of Shepherd's pie with the leftovers...maybe next year.
Pot Roast
1 3-4 pound chuck roast
2 T of olive oil
1 large onion, sliced
3-4 stalks of celery, chopped into big chunks
6-8 cloves of garlic, chopped fine
1 cup of mushrooms
2 sprigs of rosemary
4 sprigs of thyme
1 cup of chicken or beef broth
1 cup of the juice from canned tomatoes and a couple of the tomatoes too (or you could probably use 1 15 oz can of diced tomatoes)
1/2 cup red wine
broth as needed
Heat the olive oil in a dutch oven over medium-high heat until hot (not smoking). Liberally salt and pepper the meat on all sides and put into the pan. Brown the meat on all sides, and as tempting as it is to either a) move the meat a lot or b) not let it brown for very long, resist the temptation! The total browning time should take about 15 minutes, about 4 or so minutes on each side. Remove meat from pan and add onions and garlic and saute for 3-4 minutes and then add the celery. Cook until vegetables begin to soften, a couple more minutes. Add the 2 cups of liquids - broth and tomato juice, and scrape down the pan, getting all the luscious bits off the bottom. Add the herbs (whole, on the stem), the mushrooms and the meat and bring to a boil. Season with salt and pepper and turn the heat down and cover and simmer over low heat for about 3 hours until tender (knife should go in easily). Remove the meat, stems from the rosemary and thyme (all of the leaves should have fallen off) and the mushrooms and set aside. Skim fat off the top and turn the heat up. Add the wine and let it reduce for a couple of minutes and then add enough broth to be able to use the immersion blender (or alternatively, if you're putting it in a blender, add enough to make a thick gravy-like sauce). Taste it and add salt and pepper (or more broth or more wine) as needed. Let the meat rest for 15 minutes, cut, smother with sauce, and enjoy!
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
First outdoor run of the year...
...SUCKS. But you don't think it's going to suck, and that's why it sucks even more. This is how it goes.
You're at work, it's nearly 60 degrees outside and it's sunny. Daylight savings time came early, so it's light later. You think to yourself, "wow, it's so warm out and it'll be light for many hours after I get home from work. It's a perfect day for a run in the park. I'm so smart." All afternoon you check the weather and it looks like perfect running weather, not a lot of wind, cool, but still warm enough. You fly out the doors like a school kid leaving for summer break, nearly dancing in the street.
You get home, pet the kitty and pull out your fancy new shorts that you got at the trendy new workout/yoga apparel store down the street (thanks to a fantastically smart Santa who got you a gift certificate). You put them on and wonder for a moment whether or not your legs are in appropriate summer shape (especially in the new shorts that are on the short side). Who cares! It's running outside time! You grab your keys and your iPod and head down the stairs.
You get to the park and realize everyone has the same idea as you, it's crowded and they all appear to have been running all winter long. You, alas, have not, but you have good music and you're in the park! Then you start running and things feel creaky. And then the memories of running begin to trickle back, the pain, the misery. But by now you're rounding the bottom of the park, but that's when the horse sh*t smell starts, and it's not even that warm out. You start to think you're not actually going to make it home again.
And that's when the hills start, and your chest feels like it's the size of a pea, afterall it's not THAT warm out. And you realize that only your right earbud is working. But you press on, running slower than some are walking. Finally you make it up to the reservoir loop, taking a moment to stop running and trudge despairingly up the stairs. It's packed...with tourists...taking pictures, oh and couples that are walking slower than a snail in their "workout" clothes, carrying a water bottle and holding hands. Well, just one of those couples, but STILL! That does not a workout make, you do not need a water bottle if your workout involves holding someone's hand.
Finally you make it around the reservoir and head back out to the main road of the park, so close, so close! And just as you come down the very last hill you see four teenagers/college kids walking in a line shoulder to shoulder across the entire walking/running lane and the bike lane. You don't make a move, because to avoid them you would have to run in the middle of the street, so you keep running straight...now it's a game of chicken, they're not moving, you're not moving until, WHAM! Just kidding, you don't actually hit them but you have to STOP while they decide to make a 6 inch space between their shoulder so you can get by. But it's over, and you go home and the kitty is excited because you're stretching on the floor and she gets lots of pets. At least someone felt good after the first outdoor run of the season.
You're at work, it's nearly 60 degrees outside and it's sunny. Daylight savings time came early, so it's light later. You think to yourself, "wow, it's so warm out and it'll be light for many hours after I get home from work. It's a perfect day for a run in the park. I'm so smart." All afternoon you check the weather and it looks like perfect running weather, not a lot of wind, cool, but still warm enough. You fly out the doors like a school kid leaving for summer break, nearly dancing in the street.
You get home, pet the kitty and pull out your fancy new shorts that you got at the trendy new workout/yoga apparel store down the street (thanks to a fantastically smart Santa who got you a gift certificate). You put them on and wonder for a moment whether or not your legs are in appropriate summer shape (especially in the new shorts that are on the short side). Who cares! It's running outside time! You grab your keys and your iPod and head down the stairs.
You get to the park and realize everyone has the same idea as you, it's crowded and they all appear to have been running all winter long. You, alas, have not, but you have good music and you're in the park! Then you start running and things feel creaky. And then the memories of running begin to trickle back, the pain, the misery. But by now you're rounding the bottom of the park, but that's when the horse sh*t smell starts, and it's not even that warm out. You start to think you're not actually going to make it home again.
And that's when the hills start, and your chest feels like it's the size of a pea, afterall it's not THAT warm out. And you realize that only your right earbud is working. But you press on, running slower than some are walking. Finally you make it up to the reservoir loop, taking a moment to stop running and trudge despairingly up the stairs. It's packed...with tourists...taking pictures, oh and couples that are walking slower than a snail in their "workout" clothes, carrying a water bottle and holding hands. Well, just one of those couples, but STILL! That does not a workout make, you do not need a water bottle if your workout involves holding someone's hand.
Finally you make it around the reservoir and head back out to the main road of the park, so close, so close! And just as you come down the very last hill you see four teenagers/college kids walking in a line shoulder to shoulder across the entire walking/running lane and the bike lane. You don't make a move, because to avoid them you would have to run in the middle of the street, so you keep running straight...now it's a game of chicken, they're not moving, you're not moving until, WHAM! Just kidding, you don't actually hit them but you have to STOP while they decide to make a 6 inch space between their shoulder so you can get by. But it's over, and you go home and the kitty is excited because you're stretching on the floor and she gets lots of pets. At least someone felt good after the first outdoor run of the season.
Monday, March 12, 2007
Gravy, Alfredo and Ranch Dressing
So this past weekend we made an unexpected trip back to Michigan for my great-aunt's funeral. I actually prefer to think of it not as a sad funeral but more of a celebration of her life, seeing as she lived to be 101 years old. Aunt Stel was a rockin' lady and a fantabulous cook and baker. World reknowned for her paczkis (or at least reknown in our family). She also made sure to tell Grammy that I needed to use fresh poppy seeds for my poppy bread, so I will try the bread again with new fresh poppy seeds and see how it turns out. I therefore made it a point to at least get some new recipes when I was back in Michigan celebrating her life. Of course I managed to forget them all at my parents house (mom, can you bring those with you next week?). But none of this has to do with gravy, alfredo and ranch dressing.
In typical fashion, after the ceremony we go for lunch at a hall type place. It was a buffet lunch and we were informed (immediately after grace) that we would be having roast chicken, salad, penne pasta in a cream sauce, mashed potatoes, meatballs and "chef's extras" (which mostly included random salads: bean salad, potato salad, lots of pickles and olives and things). Seeing as I never make real meatballs, I was uber-excited for those.
Our turn FINALLY came when our table got excused to go up to the buffet and I made a bee-line for the meatballs...well, after filling my plate with salad (with ranch dressing), about 2 cups of mashed potatoes and a pile of penne alfredo. I balanced the meatballs on top of my mashed potatoes, poured on the gravy and headed back to the table. My mouth was watering like Water Works as I dug in to my lunch, and in typical fashion I started with the salad. I made my way around the plate ending up with the pile of meatballs on the mashed potatoes. I went to town on those bad-boys and found myself left with nothing left on my plate except all the remaining saucy juices. And since the food was so good I knew I needed to get every last nugget of fatty goodness. Luckily, I was thinking ahead and saved half of my roll (that was oozing butter), for just this occasion. I wiped my plate clean, pulling a "kurt" as we call it (or I guess, as I call it), for my brother-in-law who notoriously cleans his plate such that it doesn't even need to be washed.
Just as I finished wiping my plate with my roll my aunt looked up from her plate and commented how well all of the various sauce components of the dishes went together. I couldn't have agreed more. The beef gravy, the ranch dressing and the alfredo sauce mixed in perfect harmony on my butter oozing bread (although we agreed it would be better without the pickle juice). And I'm not even being sarcastic, I'm 100% serious. It was delicious! It's funny how well some of the most unexpected things come together. I'm not sure I'll ever make a dish with a beef gravy, alfredo and ranch dressing sauce on top, but it's a good lesson, you never know what combination of things is going to work well together!
Another lesson learned thanks to Aunt Stel.
In typical fashion, after the ceremony we go for lunch at a hall type place. It was a buffet lunch and we were informed (immediately after grace) that we would be having roast chicken, salad, penne pasta in a cream sauce, mashed potatoes, meatballs and "chef's extras" (which mostly included random salads: bean salad, potato salad, lots of pickles and olives and things). Seeing as I never make real meatballs, I was uber-excited for those.
Our turn FINALLY came when our table got excused to go up to the buffet and I made a bee-line for the meatballs...well, after filling my plate with salad (with ranch dressing), about 2 cups of mashed potatoes and a pile of penne alfredo. I balanced the meatballs on top of my mashed potatoes, poured on the gravy and headed back to the table. My mouth was watering like Water Works as I dug in to my lunch, and in typical fashion I started with the salad. I made my way around the plate ending up with the pile of meatballs on the mashed potatoes. I went to town on those bad-boys and found myself left with nothing left on my plate except all the remaining saucy juices. And since the food was so good I knew I needed to get every last nugget of fatty goodness. Luckily, I was thinking ahead and saved half of my roll (that was oozing butter), for just this occasion. I wiped my plate clean, pulling a "kurt" as we call it (or I guess, as I call it), for my brother-in-law who notoriously cleans his plate such that it doesn't even need to be washed.
Just as I finished wiping my plate with my roll my aunt looked up from her plate and commented how well all of the various sauce components of the dishes went together. I couldn't have agreed more. The beef gravy, the ranch dressing and the alfredo sauce mixed in perfect harmony on my butter oozing bread (although we agreed it would be better without the pickle juice). And I'm not even being sarcastic, I'm 100% serious. It was delicious! It's funny how well some of the most unexpected things come together. I'm not sure I'll ever make a dish with a beef gravy, alfredo and ranch dressing sauce on top, but it's a good lesson, you never know what combination of things is going to work well together!
Another lesson learned thanks to Aunt Stel.
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