I Want to Break Free

Roasted Herb-Butter Chicken
Sometimes its fun to treat a small roaster with the care you would give your Thanksgiving bird, massaging with herbed butter, rubbing it under the skin, filling the cavity with goodies.  Chicken lives matter. 

Homemade Chicken Carcass stock
And then ensuring its entire carcass has been put to good use with a rich stock.

Turkey Vegetable Soup
And then making a vegetable rich soup with that broth.  

A pot of soup and a vat of shredded chicken buys you freedom all week.  

A blended onion, tomato, pepper slurry to thicken

She's a Killer Queen

Chocolate Chip Christmas Cookies

I set out to make fabulous Chocolate Chip cookies to gift my favorite coworkers and took the time to bag them up in festive wrappers.  I watched a gazillion videos and found one very helpful baker, Anna Olson, who gave tips that make the difference.  Creaming the butter against the bowl with a spatula rather than a mixer, is not only best to combine the sugar but serves as a therapeutic exercise. And a big one, adding a tablespoon of cornstarch, which I'd never heard of. Finally, shaping the cookies in uniform balls beforehand and chilling so that they all spread evenly.   These things changed my cookie game and I am related to the *Cookie Queen, so I need to represent! *my sis Rach. 

In Memoriam: the last of the White Bean Chile (RIP)

This is Ourselves, Under Pressure

Crock pot Black Eyed Peas and Hambone Soup

This is heavenly and you can make it as brothy as you like it.  Personally, I'm a thick and chunky lover.  As stated in yesterday's post, this is an excellent use of your holiday ham bone. 

I'm steadily working to finish my mate's record, including inviting in some professionals to help with artwork and production.  As my mate and I bump heads over which recordings to use or what style is appropriate I do worry a little now, whether I'm more Sandy Wexler than Jimmy Iovine. 

A lunch of delightful beans!

And Bad Mistakes, I've Made a Few

Some of my pals and sister, got their 2nd shot of vaccine today and P got his first.  Afterwards we had another trip to Verde on Smith, the Italian breakfast spot and the service was just as good, if not better then the last time.  The water guy brought cold water in a vodka bottle and came to the table asking if we'd like a morning drink.  Silly laughter ensued and then we were like best buddies afterwards.  The food was on point again, even though I got potatoes in my omelet and fries on the side, which was spud overkill.  That was my fault, in ordering.

Isn't it funny the stuff you constantly do wrong and never seem to learn how to correct?  What causes this gross malfunction and can you fix it?  Most major issues that I become aware of, I'm able to rectify but this one has plagued me all of my ordering life.  What failed to trigger in my brain?  I have always struggled with common sense.  My therapist used to tell me I had extraordinary uncommon sense, which that and a dime will barely get you a piece of bubble gum. 

Everybody Play the Game, of (food) Love

Sister's Red Chile Enchiladas

My Asian Cabbage Wraps

Before I saw a picture of my sister's, what she called 'quickie' enchiladas, I was feeling accomplished with my Asian Cabbage Wraps.  Lots of fresh ginger and garlic along with Hoisin sauce made these special.  Instead of lettuce cups, I blanched Savoy cabbage leaves until tender but still firm enough to be a vessel.  Somehow this made the wraps more substantial and memorable.  The spicy punch of the meat mixture, along with crunchy peanuts, went so well with the delicate subtlety of the cabbage.  Plus you get an extra serving or two of vegetables which is never a bad thing.

However in the rock, paper, scissor game world of food, I'm pretty sure enchiladas trump wraps any day of the week.

Gotta Leave It All Behind and Face the Truth

One of my mom's home dishes

Picadillo Mexicano

So normally you would have twice the meat and half the potatoes but I only had a pound of ground beef.  This is a dish that my mom would make on weeknights before they bought and managed a restaurant and we ate like kings at home.  I never knew it had a real name but found it on a recent You Tube food excursion.  Carrots are missing as well from my dish but the taste was there of the Cumino seed and rustic, earthy potato.  A great example of the peasant type of cooking she did at home.  Opposite of the cheese laden platters in the restaurant although those kicked ass as well.

My mom was a great example of someone who's presence gave so much comfort.  Her house, her food, her smell, her beauty, her essence.  Her mind tortured her own self with so much worry, negative thoughts and woe but yet she was sometimes able to show you how all your own worries were unnecessary.  And everything she touched had tons of love and care shone upon it.  Her plants were so happy.  Sitting on the steps alongside her hillside garden was one of my first understandings of zen as a young girl.  Seeing her joy and gentleness in the tiny flowers and giant leaves of the Rhubarb, the beauty of her roses on the trellis.  It was as if the whole yard was alive with her love, happy as clams.  And we could sit out there in the sun and eat the berries off of the mulberry bushes, just drinking it all in.  Even the grass seemed to grow especially deep green and thick.  Then the wind would bend it all to show the lighter shaded backside of the blades.  

She could never escape her mind's torment during her time here but I rejoice knowing that she shed it all before moving on. I choose to remember her spirit in all these incredibly delicious dishes and in the breeze from that back yard where all her love grew.  

Another One Bites the Dust

As I write this post months later, Pelicana Korean Chicken is all closed down here in Fort Greene.  I walked by it today and thought how amazing these sandwiches were for a take out alternative.  They had the spice just right where each bite rivaled that of a juicy burger.  Sometimes chicken can be void of deep flavors, just salty but they had heat and moisture, the perfect size and thickness.  The fries were good too.

It's a pity that with all these hungry people there are no longer great alternatives in the neighborhood.  We've lost the Academy Diner, Burger 67, Habana to Go, and now Pelicana. 

When You're Feeling Down and Your Resistance is Low

For a couple of months this fall our restaurant at work went out of commission.  Nothing worked and we were told stories of new equipment that needed to be made or pipes that had burst.  Other folks told chilling tales of infestations and detailed accounts of rats falling from the ceiling.  Then an official statement was sent as to what to say to customers and more importantly, what they were going to serve in the staff cafeteria for my belly!  And it was good.  They would cater in food from neighborhood businesses.  My favorite being El Mexicano.  A banquet set up of all their offerings and 3 meats, including this almost sweet shrimp concoction that the kids just couldn't get enough of as well as 3 different types of hot sauce.  I had to pace myself because I wanted to do some serious damage to that bar by lunchtime.  But you live and learn.  Go slow, don't be a glutton, choose wisely and enjoy it.  Be in the moment when you're devouring this amazing dream food.  This is a treat. 
When I like something a great deal, it's hard not to obsess over it and overindulge.  Tough not to completely envelope myself in it. I try so hard.  But as you live this life, the awesomeness is less and less.  The thrills are fewer and farther in between.  What was once a fun-filled daily ride is now a grind, a tiring grind, sometimes devoid of any fun at all.  You come to realize that all those flowers along the road were not permanent.  Things from the past that bring you pleasure are treasured keepsakes that you store in your mind and bring them out to admire and adore in private moments. 

But it's sad because those things are gone now, dead for all intents and purposes from my real life.  But all the what could be's are waiting for me, supposedly.  I read that on some meme.  I still want to believe it's true but sometimes in these moments of lost faith I just see myself as walking the earth like a corpse, a shadow of what I once was or could have been.

A pizza slice is the image of hope later that night.

Oooh, You Make Me Live

My mate has a very all consuming personality presence.  It wasn't apparent when we first met.  He filled the room with a calm, engaged self-driven energy way back in San Francisco.  I went to his apartment and watched him smoke his cigarettes while he prepared to play us his short films and interesting but very sad songs on his guitar.  He always seemed so busy in his head yet constantly putting out some form of art and life to share with friends over beers and conversation.  After almost giving up on becoming attracted to any sex for a length of time, I remember thinking this is exactly what I am looking for in a partner.  I felt creativity boiling up inside of me at the time and if I could be near someone of that mindset, it would be able to flow, I would find a way to pull it out. 

Now I realize that two creative people are not always the best compliment to each other.  In some ways certainly.  But when having a tough time, we crave attention and demand time of our other to mull over all our objections to life.  Like right now, this minute.  You need someone to listen at the drop of a hat.  You also want the other to become enthralled in all of the details of your hardships, genuinely giving their all because of course it's the most important thing going on at that moment.  And what that is, that is exhausting and almost impossible.   

But you find ways to adjust and contort yourself to accommodate partnerships.  It's like a game that you reach the next level before continuing on or you can fail, failure is always an option.  Game over.  But not tonight.  On this night, as I'm listening and commenting on P's fascinating problems, on the inside I'm patting myself on the back for these incredible pork, apple, kale burgers with pan fries.   Chunks of red apple, chopped kale, garlic, oatmeal, green onion and to finish a little sprinkle of bleu cheese.   They were so good and ready in less than 30 minutes from conception to table.  All the while from the front door on, juggling considering someone else's life troubles. 

Keep Yourself Alive, Keep you Satisfied

Don't Forget the Gravy Blog

This breakfast is in dedication to a fellow foodie and Virgin coworker named Spike.  His food vision is based on late night and morning after cravings and different non-traditional combinations.  His blog is fun and just about the food experience. 

I connect on his view because I'm a lover of the leftover, so that lends itself to odd pairings.  I don't like to waste but I also see how a dinner item could match very nicely with breakfast if you have it on hand.  Like this tangy tomato salad.  And this spinach ricotta slice of pizza.  Generally not considered breakfast, but with an egg poached on top and a little extra cheese, it quickly became exceptional.  This breakfast was gigantic to mock a hungover morning type plate.  I was just extra hungry.

Foodies like Spike help us all to relax a lot about what constitutes a meal and how you eat it.  The significance of what you serve with what from a fresh perspective and the importance of feeding your own individual stomach desires no matter how silly it may seem to another.  And fittingly he is a drummer.

http://dontforgetthegravy.blogspot.com/

When I'm Holding Your Wheel, All I Hear is Your Gear

Pizza turkey burgers over quinoa

I used a quick very simple pizza sauce that I made with leftovers from a can of whole tomatoes, garlic, oregano, salt & pepper and a few fresh golden cherry tomatoes. Big leaves of Romaine lettuce act as edible spoons.

On the ride home from work as I'm going along a street I realized all the cars were vintage, possibly they were shooting a scene for a movie.  I had to stop and just walk among them, take in the way it felt to be in another time.  Back to when cars really had a presence on the street. Such works of art. And bigger. I remember riding in our station wagon that felt like a boat going down the road, even tilted and rocked.  When the dashboard was a giant hull and you could barely see beyond the front hood.   I loved when cars weren't perfect and your shoes told a story.  

The thing that was most attractive about that time was it was less attractive.  Things were not as perfect.  Cars had personalities.  At least there were more varieties on the street.  A car pulled up in the early 70's and you'd have a conversation about it.  There was more apparent history, wrecks and broken windshields, busted headlights, dragging tailpipes to discuss.  Every car wasn't grey and clean.  They had detail and craftsmanship. Like shoes now. No one wears old shoes much anymore. As soon as they start to show signs, we get new ones.  You could tell a lot about someone by the wear on their shoes.  The heels had depleted corners where you could tell they leaned more on one side.  Someone would pull up, get out of there car and I knew everything I needed to know.

Someone says pizza burger and that's all I need to hear.  I know I'm gonna like it.