Pho Happy

Butter, Please.

2010-02-17T22:03:00.000-08:00

There is nothing better than an omelet for a late dinner.

Protein + whatever vegetables around = reliable + delicious.

This evening I took my chances with a nutcracker and some dungeness crab. A couple legs and part of a back (?) I think.

I tried to cook the egg in some of the leftover butter with lemon, but I don't think that was quite as good an idea as I first thought. I kept it simple for the filling: crab, spinach, green onions.

Halfway through the omelet, I got the best idea ever. Top this thing with the butter and lemon.

Mmmmm. I know what I'm making for breakfast.

Dinner For Two

2010-02-15T22:39:00.000-08:00

My sister and I had a lovely little Valentine's candle-lit dinner together, as our sweethearts are currently long distance. We had ravioli with garlic, walnuts, and goat cheese over a bed of wilted spinach.

Wilted is really the only way to have spinach. The trick is to throw it in the pan for just a moment, give it a quick stir, and pour it onto the plate, letting the ravioli or whatever do the rest of the wilting.

Goat cheese is one of my absolute favorites. Its creamy tangyness brings this dish up a notch or two. If you want to use walnuts as a dressing like this, make sure to cook them - in lots of butter.

Ground salt and fresh cracked pepper and voila! Quick, beautiful, and tasty with a helping of iron. All you need is a glass of wine and a French film.

A Night at the Opera

2010-02-07T21:42:00.000-08:00

I've been thinking about macarons recently. Everyone seems to be talking about them. When I looked up the recipe, however, I got too overwhelmed and decided to make a 6 layer cake with a three page recipe instead. Why? I don't know.

Here's a picture from the beginning of this expedition. This is the part where I fold the 6 egg whites in with the 6 whole eggs and over two cups of powdered sugar.

This recipe requires over a dozen eggs and about 3 and a half sticks of butter. I am not kidding. I am not exaggerating. Oh, plus whipping cream.

This took me many hours. One trip to the store included, due to my poor planning. I don't think people usually make opera cake on a whim. I also had to redo the coffee syrup because I accidentally added it to the buttercream frosting. It was an easy mistake to make -- both require coffee. And that's my excuse. The results, however, are fabulous.

This is a serious cake at 20 servings. I followed advice on the recipe (thank you, Lynne Rossetto Kasper!) and cut it into pretty blocks to freeze. Drop by my house soon and I'll make espresso and share cake with you.

Oh, I made quite a mess.

Make-shift Asian

2009-10-02T17:48:00.000-07:00

My supply of rice noodles is rapidly depleting. This evening, I made faux-pad thai. I probably should be ashamed of using peanut butter and soy sauce as my main flavors, but college is college and this is the Midwest. I glanced at a couple recipes for pad thai before attempting to concoct my own dish. I didn't have even most of the ingredients for any of the recipes, but it turned out alright.

I am wincing as I write this:
I brown some ground beef with pepper flakes and garlic powder while I cook the noodles. When the noodles are just right but not overdone, I put them in the pan with the beef. [Note to self: add more oil next time -- I had a few too many noodles turn into insta-crust]
Here goes the peanut butter! [Only half a teaspoon or so, so it doesn't taste like a peanut butter sandwich gone awry.]
I add an egg and stir gently.
A couple dashes of soy sauce and a bit of white vinegar finish my main dish.
I top with bean sprouts, chopped peanuts, basil, and green onions. I would not attempt this without the green onions.

I long for fresh vegetables at school. The vegetable of the year last year was kale, cheap and green at $0.79 a bunch. It was perfect. Since I have a kitchen available this year, I intend to do more cooking. This means I will need to have more fresh ingredients on hand, so I search out the longest lasting, most versatile, and cheapest vegetables. I splurged with my purchase of bean sprouts: expensive, very short life, and best in Asian food. A bottle of lime juice would probably serve me well. Green onions, onions, carrots, and whatever kind of greens were on sale made the cut.

My Thai inspired dinner was a reminder to me of why I love my favorite Thai Restaurant so much.

No Imagination

2009-09-29T21:19:00.000-07:00

The Midwest has no ethnic food. I am convinced. Fortunately, my mother is an excellent woman and mailed me delicious sweet chili sauce. [This delightful sauce has, in the past, made claims to be ideal with "chicken, pork, shirmp," etc. Shirmp? Shirmp. For the record, and aside from the sketchy label, this stuff has no preservatives and is delicious.] On my trip out here, I packed rice noodles instead of another pair of shoes. I can't get a ride to the store for fresh tomatoes, mint, cucumber, lime or lettuce, but my friend is willing to sacrifice a basil plant for our dinner.

Digging through the communal spice cupboard, I season the chicken with salt, pepper, lemon peel, and accidentally too much garlic powder. A few hours prior, I sliced some onion to create a fresh pickle - sugar dissolved in hot water, white vinegar, salt + whatever vegetables look tasty [only a lone onion is available in my case].

Noodles, sweet chili sauce, chicken, topped with fresh basil and my lightly pickled onions. 100% better than Saga.

Something Green

2009-09-26T10:00:00.000-07:00

Today, we missed the farmers market. Again. I've had enough college food for a while and am ready to eat something intensely green.

Currently, I live in a crumbling Michigan town. Yesterday, I decided to walk downtown and gather flowers from empty lots and sidewalk cracks. Peering through the windows of abandoned retail and restaurant spaces, I feel sad. The architecture is beautiful, the brick intereriors and exposed beams are exquisite, but there is no one to turn these places into businesses for more than about two seconds. And there is no one to dine.

Still, it is good to dream. So I dream.

A Different Life

2008-08-25T07:29:00.000-07:00

I no longer have a garden.

I no longer have a kitchen.

I have a shelf full of crackers, a shared mini-fridge, and no possibility of salad rolls in the near future. Welcome to college, Abbie Maynard!

It's going to be fun seeing what I can do with a hot pot in my room and a microwave down the hall.

Uh oh

2008-04-27T19:20:00.001-07:00

My oven is broken!

Mum

2008-03-24T19:59:00.000-07:00

My mum made these. They are beautiful and she made them in little knots and little pokey things and little sets of triplets! It is exciting.

A Grain of Salt

2008-03-22T12:57:00.001-07:00

For dinner, I grill asparagus. Drizzle with olive oil, sprinkle with salt, cracked pepper and put them in the oven. I love the crispy heads. If I was more selfish than I am, I would bite them all off before they ever reached the table.

For the al dente fettuccine, I make brown butter. I cook the butter over very low heat then slowly increase the heat as I grow more and more impatient. A little shy of medium would have been fine to start out with, I note for future reference. It bubbles then darkens. I am unsure what to do with the mushrooms. In the end, I decide to cook them in the butter right before serving. I'm using button mushrooms, but I would like to try this again with a more exotic mushroom. I am working on creating something that is subtle, but not bland. This really isn't a bad start. Sea salt and cracked pepper, naturally.

The French

2008-03-21T13:53:00.000-07:00

Today, I go back to Tour de Crepes, a favorite of mine. I order the salmon crepe. Several crepes here are worth trying, but the salmon is the only one worthy of a shout out. Smoked salmon, dilled chèvre, spinach, and capers in a buckwheat flour crepe - delicious.

It's changed a bit in here since I've last graced this converted carriage house with my presence. [The kitchen is out back in an Airstream trailer. A little sketchy, but I'm not above food from a trailer.] They have new tables, I think. Other improvements have been made: a small vase of flowers now adorns each table, the heater has been turned to more efficiently warm the often chilly room, and the row of theater seats no longer are backed against the wall - a door is used as a coffee table in front of them. I love the worn pink furniture and the kitchen table [we sit there when we want to argue].

In a bold moment, I decide I will try the housemade vanilla bean custard. The flavor is nice, but the texture is grainy. No good! I send it back to the kitchen. She blends it for me and this is much superior. It's a bit runny, but I am sure it firms up when chilled. I like the little tiny crunch the vanilla bean brings.

I like the French music. The service here isn't particularly attentive, but help was found when I truly needed it. She helped me find out the name of the woman singing rich, glorious music through the stereo - and thus entered Madeleine Peyroux into my life. Sometimes I've eaten here completely alone. It is quite pleasant if that is what you are seeking.

Today is French Film Friday. I've never been, but I am charmed by the idea and wholeheartedly intend to show up by 7pm some Friday evening.

Valentine

2008-03-20T18:37:00.000-07:00

I want to feed my man. I want to lean over and watch him take that first bite and see if he likes it. I want to delight him and impress him. If the way to a man's heart is through his stomach, I am right there. Long distance makes this difficult. I send him pictures of my lunch, pictures of my dinner, pictures of the groceries I am buying for tomorrow's dinner, but the poor guy isn't getting any of it. The time I send him beautiful chocolate cupcakes with ganache filling, he shows up at my door in Portland while they show up in his mailbox in San Diego. I am a woman on a mission. I cannot set steaming bowls of soup before him, but I will find a way.

When he returns to his mailbox five days later, he finds my cupcakes still in excellent condition. My baking isn't too shabby, and apparently I have mad packing skills.

Peace on Earth

2008-03-12T23:00:00.000-07:00

It's a rotten day. To explain would be to relive and to relive would make me miserable. It's just one of those days. Ironically, all the troublesome events of my day occur while making World Peace Cookies. I shape them into logs and wrap them in plastic. They relax in the fridge for three hours - I sulk. I want to drive fast and listen to loud music.

At the gas station, I reply to a cheerful "how are you?" with a sullen, "good." He hands me a sesame cookie with my receipt. I want to be much angrier than I am. I drive to the top of Rocky Butte before heading off again to my original destination.

I walk into Dorene's kitchen to hear the tail end of Happy Birthday sung over the telephone. I'm not ready for a Bible study, but that's why I'm here.

I was asked to come with something to say, but I have nothing besides a bad attitude and World Peace Cookies. [I slice them as admirers look on. They come out of the oven just as they should: warm, salty, melting, sweet. My cookies are adored (Holly asks for the recipe).]

My eyes are salty, my heart is melting, my soul is warm, my friendships sweet. The High Priest was Himself sacrificed, His blood sprinkled at the temple!

I apologize when I return home.

Delicious

2008-03-07T14:41:00.000-08:00

This is my experience in food.

Bumblekiss

2007-09-11T14:59:00.001-07:00

Monday. Not only do I have to drag myself from bed half an hour to an hour earlier, I also have nothing to eat. Tuesdays and Thursdays and Fridays and Wednesdays I can head to a local haunt for sustenance. Not on Mondays.

Monday is a double cursed day. If lunch was open, I wouldn't much mind Mondays. Today, however, is the day I cannot dine at my favorite crepe shop. That funky soup and sandwich shop is closed on Mondays -- I found that out two weeks ago. The pizza place is deserted.

I decide I'll go down to Fremont street and give another try to a brunch place with book pages on the walls. I check the website. Closed! Closed on Mondays? I wonder if the Thai restaurant next door to it is closed on Monday as well. I cannot remember the name, but there are other cafes on Fremont; I venture out in search of food. I feel like a hunter. An animal on the prowl. I'm hungry! My stomach growls.

The Thai place looks closed, but I am unsure. I park down the street. Do I play it safe and go to the Thai place the other direction down the street I know is open? I've eaten there before and it was only alright. The food was fine, but I also seek charm with my peanut sauce.

I start walking toward uncertainty. I hesitate. I cross the street and walk halfway down the block. I hesitate again and pause. I feel it's too late now. I continue on my chosen course. But wait, a bold sandwich sign with "Open" across is pointing to the brunch place I originally wanted to go to! What once was closed now is open. "New hours," it says.

I seat myself in the sunshine at a table for four. Lord Emsworth will be joining me shortly. A perky woman with curly hair sets a menu before me. I make up my mind quickly. She takes no notice of me, however -- she's discussing jeans and jobs and mutual acquaintances with her friends at the table behind me. She takes their order before mine, although I was seated first. I am annoyed.

I don't much care for menus that have special names for standard fare. I can't bring myself to say those names. "I'll have the salmon sandwich," I say. "The Salmon and Goatfunkle?" The waitress asks. "Yes, please."

I won't say it.

When my lunch is set before me, I realize it's the same thing I ordered the other time I was there. It is good, though a little stingy with the asparagus. The wait, however, is far too long. I probably won't be going back for lunch.

Gelato across the street might make a nice meal.