It's my first real snow day! What a great time to fire up the ol' Kitchen In America, upload some grainy pictures of dinners past, and relieve myself of some pent up thoughts on food.~~~~~
The Red Cabbage of Courage
What the hell do you do with a red cabbage? Ask the internet, and all you get is "shred and braise with some apples." Or meat. No can do, world. The red cabbage was one of the last items from our last CSA box, and I wish it hadn't been; it left me with a sort of helpless feeling, "well, I guess the rest of this winter's food is going to be just as floppy." It got braised. Once with apples and other stuff, and the other half with ginger and carrots. I don't envy the people who may have to eat this every day. Not that it was bad; the cabbage develops a nice earthy flavor that's balanced by sweet apples or the combination of ginger's zesty charm with the afterthought of sweetness from a good carrot. It seems a shame that there isn't more to do with such a pretty, underappreciated vegetable. Next time I have one, I'll be more aggressive.
What the hell do you do with a red cabbage? Ask the internet, and all you get is "shred and braise with some apples." Or meat. No can do, world. The red cabbage was one of the last items from our last CSA box, and I wish it hadn't been; it left me with a sort of helpless feeling, "well, I guess the rest of this winter's food is going to be just as floppy." It got braised. Once with apples and other stuff, and the other half with ginger and carrots. I don't envy the people who may have to eat this every day. Not that it was bad; the cabbage develops a nice earthy flavor that's balanced by sweet apples or the combination of ginger's zesty charm with the afterthought of sweetness from a good carrot. It seems a shame that there isn't more to do with such a pretty, underappreciated vegetable. Next time I have one, I'll be more aggressive.
~~~~~
I made seitan last week. It's another one of those meat substitutes that looks like poop but tastes awesome. It's especially good with scrambled eggs; spice it and shred it and it's almost chorizo. It would have been great in these stuffed acorn squash; they definitely needed something meaty, though they look cute enough to devour here. I've been devouring the Moosewood Cookbook's "at home" version, but finding that I already do variations on many of the recipes; their flavor combinations and cooking methods are very similar to mine.
I made seitan last week. It's another one of those meat substitutes that looks like poop but tastes awesome. It's especially good with scrambled eggs; spice it and shred it and it's almost chorizo. It would have been great in these stuffed acorn squash; they definitely needed something meaty, though they look cute enough to devour here. I've been devouring the Moosewood Cookbook's "at home" version, but finding that I already do variations on many of the recipes; their flavor combinations and cooking methods are very similar to mine.~~~~~
On To The Bread!
My new job, squeezing goats for money, left me a pretty tired after the first few days; the new sleep schedule altered my appetite/desire to leave the couch to the chagrin of my yeast addiction; I went into withdrawal, became pale and sour smelling, and ultimately deflated into a puddle of goo. I started a poolish last week with no particular intentions, just to have some bread around, when I remembered an article my stepmom sent me. On Saturday I split up the poolish and whipped up two doughs. The first was a pretty standard, too-wet-to-knead ciabatta dough, straight up. The second, based on the article, was thick and sticky with molasses, sugar, an egg white, and more flour than I thought reasonable. It took a long time and many gluten rests to get this mass to windowpane, and then even after two days in the fridge it had hardly risen. I was worried; I don't like to admit defeat and throw away dough (I never have, but I have choked down some mediocre loaves). I decided to trust the author, despite my having made a few alterations to the recipe, and plug ahead. I cut the dough into eight pieces, rolled those into tubes, and pinched the ends together. A short rise later I plopped them into some boiling water for a minute, and baked them on a wire rack.
Voila! Bagels! And without a hint of fat, either. The crust had that toothy rubberiness that bagel snobs seek out, so I hear. They were a bit dark from the molasses, but toasted and spread with some pear-anise goat cheese they were a rich, filling breakfast.
My new job, squeezing goats for money, left me a pretty tired after the first few days; the new sleep schedule altered my appetite/desire to leave the couch to the chagrin of my yeast addiction; I went into withdrawal, became pale and sour smelling, and ultimately deflated into a puddle of goo. I started a poolish last week with no particular intentions, just to have some bread around, when I remembered an article my stepmom sent me. On Saturday I split up the poolish and whipped up two doughs. The first was a pretty standard, too-wet-to-knead ciabatta dough, straight up. The second, based on the article, was thick and sticky with molasses, sugar, an egg white, and more flour than I thought reasonable. It took a long time and many gluten rests to get this mass to windowpane, and then even after two days in the fridge it had hardly risen. I was worried; I don't like to admit defeat and throw away dough (I never have, but I have choked down some mediocre loaves). I decided to trust the author, despite my having made a few alterations to the recipe, and plug ahead. I cut the dough into eight pieces, rolled those into tubes, and pinched the ends together. A short rise later I plopped them into some boiling water for a minute, and baked them on a wire rack.
Voila! Bagels! And without a hint of fat, either. The crust had that toothy rubberiness that bagel snobs seek out, so I hear. They were a bit dark from the molasses, but toasted and spread with some pear-anise goat cheese they were a rich, filling breakfast.
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