Godzilla Kisses

Dinner tonight: Greens Pie. (Made with last week's greens, not this week's.) I made this up! All by myself!


Slice an onion, or some leeks, or some other combination of alliums, and saute in oil until beginning to brown. (I had two leftover leeks and half a bunch of scallions.) Add 2-3 bunches of chopped cooking greens -- chard, kale, spinach, turnip greens, beet greens, collards, etc. (Turnips, beets, and collards, here.) Continue to saute until they are well-wilted. Salt and pepper 'em.

If you are using spinach, you'll want to squeeze out any extra moisture at this point.

This is a good place to pause if you're cooking ahead, like I was.

Make or buy a nine-inch pie crust and put it in the pan. I had a ball of short crust dough in my freezer, so I just defrosted it and rolled it out. Do whatever you want to with the excess overhanging crust. Me, I just pinched it back sloppily b/c I can't be arsed to flute it or fork it or anything like that.

Mix the greens together with two eggs, feta cheese, and some nuts -- walnuts or pine nuts; I used the former because I was out of the latter. Pile into the pie pan, smooth it down, and bake at 400 degrees for about 30 minutes.

You could add parmesan cheese, too, if you wanted. I sprinkled some on each slice as I served it.

Yum.

Dinner last night: Cornbread made with bacon fat, cooked in an iron skillet. Green beans sauteed with bacon. A simple tomato salad with shallots and basil. And iced tea.

Oh my yes.

I happen to have a package of schmancy chickpeas in my pantry. I think it is time to eat them up. The thing is, I usually don't eat whole chickpeas, so I am a bit at a loss as to how to use them. If you had a package of schmancy chickpeas in your pantry, what would you do with them?

1. It was *hot* today. So we went for ice cream. 2 pm at Ici in Berkeley is apparently prime stroller time; we fit right in. We were mean, mean parents in that G. and I ate ice cream in front of the babies and didn't even give them a taste. On the other hand, they have no way of knowing what they're missing.

2. Maybe I want to go to Diesel (the bookstore) for Mother's Day...

3. Right now I am reading The Flavor Bible, which is much fun, but also, well...it was when I was explaining to Steven my disappointment in the entry on cashews that it began to dawn on me how I sound to other people sometimes when I talk about food. (I was disappointed because all the flavor associations seemed aimed toward dessert, while I like cashews more in a savory/vegetal context. That's right, I am second-guessing something that calls itself The Flavor Bible.)

4. We broke out the barbecue for the first time this year on Sunday. A few lovely neighbors stopped by to say hello, hang out in the garden, and eat our food. Our nearest, newest neighbors (you know who you are) make a particularly charming couple; they are truly well-matched for each other. It was fun to have a chance to hang out with them and everyone else, too.

5. What's up with the sudden plethora of superhero novels?

1. I am a little perturbed by the idea of "loungewear" and "activewear" for infants.

2. Salad with spinach, strawberries, diced leftover chicken, and pine nuts = yum. More strawberries in the dressing, along with some orange juice, champagne vinegar, olive oil and hazelnut oil. I sprinkled on some poppy seeds at the end. A little scallion or red onion might have been welcome, too. I also think this would work well with arugula instead of spinach. Yet another possibility: a little mustard in the dressing, for sharpness? Or a different vinegar?

3. I went to the Old Oakland Farmer's market for the first time on Friday, and enjoyed it immensely. I only came home with a couple small sweet potatoes for the babies; they turned out to be white sweet potatoes, which will be interesting. G. bought strawberries that later made it into the salad, above. Next I would like to try out Temescal.

4. I have now seen the inside of Pixar. Or, er, inside the gates, but outside the buildings...

5. Writing for pay has been a mite vexing this week, from a number of different directions.

6. Friday night was very busy and very fun. First we [data embargoed], then ate dinner with Gina, then headed to the Hubba Hubba Revue. The band, La Plebe, was just amazing, and I loved the old-school mosh pit that popped up. Was told that G. and I are very cute on the dance floor. I saw many friends there who I hope to see more of when my ears aren't ringing.

7. I had a lovely chat with my brother this afternoon, after shamefully forgetting about his birthday last Monday. He told me fun stories about his sociology professor and who he does tech support for these days. We really should sit down and talk more often. And also maybe under less stressful circumstances on his part. (Note to E.: Good luck becoming a Master! ;) )

8. Today at the grocery store with Simone: "That baby's been out in the sun, hasn't she?" I believe the manga response to this is: "..."

Sunday night, at the request of G., I made spaghetti and meatballs for dinner.

The meatballs were tasty, but they had a tendency to fall apart. This is opposite from the last meatball recipe I tried, where the meatballs held together but I was unimpressed by the flavor.

I think perhaps browning them longer will help next time. Meanwhile, I have a container of delicious leftover mush in the fridge...

In my freezer, I have managed to accumulate quite a collection of fats and stocks. I have goose fat and duck fat and two kinds of lard. And probably some schmaltz and a little bit of bacon fat, somewhere or other. I have blond chicken stock from the French chef, several containers of my own homemade blond chicken stock, roasted chicken stock, duck stock, and shrimp stock.

Yeah. I think it's about time I did something about that. So I can buy more big chunks of meat instead...

To change the subject completely!

If you were gifted a quart of blond chicken stock by a very skilled, very French former professional chef...what would you do with it?

1. I would like to request my readers send me their very favorite chili recipe, please. Preferably with meat (inc. chicken etc.), but not required. Beans and/or veggies OK; meat substitutes (e.g. TVP) are not. I am having a huge craving and I have no definitive version of chili of my own to sate it with.

2. If you had some Spanish-style (i.e. dry) chorizo, what would you do with it?

3. Similarly, if you had on hand a couple links of Merguez sausage, what would you do with them?

(Veggie queries later. Right now I appear to be covered in that department.)

I just made the most glorious supper.

And you can make it too!

If you want to be fancy, you can call it "Baked Eggs Florentine." All that means is I had spinach and eggs (on toast). But, ah, what results from simplicity.

(0. Preheat your oven to 400 F.)

1. Butter some individual ramekins, or else a small (9x9) casserole dish if you don't have ramekins.

2. Wilt some spinach in some butter. Be generous with the butter: I used 2 Tbsp. and one large bag of spinach. Don't worry if the butter browns a bit, but don't overcook the spinach -- it should be *just* wilted.

3. Put the spinach in the ramekins (say, four for one big bag of spinach), or in a layer along the bottom of your casserole.

4. Make a small well in the bottom of each ramekin, or four wells in your casserole.

5. Break an egg gently into each well. Keep the yolk intact.

6. Pour a couple tablespoons of dairy product per egg around the well. Top choice: creme fraiche. I didn't have any, so I used buttermilk, and it was more than fine. You could also use just regular milk, or cream if you were feeling decadent. I'd worry that sour cream or yogurt would separate, though. If you can't tolerate dairy, I imagine you could even do this with a little stock and it would be fine. Or try it without any extra liquid whatsoever. I bet it would work.

7. Sprinkle it all with salt, pepper, and a little nutmeg, preferably fresh grated.

8. Bake at 400 F for ten minutes or so, until the whites have set but the yolk is still runny (unless you hate runny yolks, in which case, bake longer).

9. Eat over toast. Or not.

10. Swoon.

I was in Baltimore for the first time, staying with imnotandrei's father for the holidays. I was upstairs in the attic, which was also Steven's room. I was more or less hiding, b/c I am shy and was experiencing a bit of culture shock, and most of all I was trying not to fuck up and cause a scene somehow.

Steven came to the foot of the stairs and called up. "Dad says to tell you we're having filet for dinner."

"Filet of what?" I asked.

Steven laughed. "Filet mignon," he clarified.

My reply has become a bit famous. "I'm sorry," I said, "but in my family, we're not on a first-name basis with expensive cuts of meat."

Merriment ensued.

(It's true, too -- I can't remember ever eating a cut of beef more fancy than round steak.)

I made dinner tonight. Pumpernickel toast, sauteed greens (mostly spinach), Welsh rarebit, and poached eggs, all piled together (in that order). The poached egg yolk cuts the bitterness of the beer in the rarebit; the beer cuts cheesiness the of the sauce; the sauce and the yolk soften the chewy bread; and there are so many different textures.

Good to the last mopped-up bite. Easy and quick, too. Nice food for the first rainy day of the season.

Once upon a time, I was given a large slab of pork belly.

I am having a hard time deciding what to do with it. (In the meantime, it lurks in my freezer, taking up valuable space.)

I red-cooked my last slab of pork belly, which was fun, but maybe something different this time?

I don't want to cure my own bacon, thx.

What else, what else?

This small discussion of another aspect of my foodways is part confession. I'm honestly embarrased by it. It sounds hopelessly superstitious and non-rational, but I can't think of any other way to put it:

Home-cooked food has mana. Other food -- from the hautest of the haute, to fast food, and most importantly, everything in between -- does not.

This is how I know:

If I don't eat home-cooked food in a certain span of time, I start to wilt. Seriously. I start to have cravings, I start to feel vaguely ill. Tired. Run down. This span of time? A week, maybe two.

I don't have to cook the food myself, mind you. Any home-cooked meal will do.

I don't know how to explain this phenomenon without referring to something akin to the concept of mana -- the idea that there's something immanent in home-cooked food that just doesn't exist in commercially prepared food, no matter how fresh, how quality, how attentively prepared.

All I know is, I recognize the wilting, its cause, and its cure.

One of the deepest and strongest underpinnings of my foodways is an inherited tendency toward frugality.

My mother is a notorious penny-pincher in some ways. I was thinking this morning about how it took her becoming a professor of packaging for our household to begin investing in Saran Wrap -- because the other, cheaper plastic wraps used a different, less effective plastic. I was thinking about how we never consumed boneless, skinless chicken breasts, because they were too expensive. We never ate beef more costly than round steak. We ate fast food a lot, and a lot of things from cans and boxes, but never any fancy prepared foods.

And I learned very early on that raw ingredients were a lot cheaper than finished product. (My mom was a gardener, too, because seeds are even cheaper than produce. She canned, too, though mostly tomatoes and jam.) Thus, learning to cook was economical, a natural choice.

As my palate grew and diversified, I learned how to cook a lot of things my family would never have thought to attempt. But I never quite graduated to "fancy" food -- although lots of people I know would think the stuff I do at home *is* fancy! But it's still "home cooking."

And I still hesitate to buy boneless, skinless chicken breasts. Or spinach in a bag, or baby carrots, or anything like that, while we're at it. And man, if I let myself, my freezer would be full of scrap ends of all sorts of things for making stock, bread crumbs, sauces, and so on.

I'm thinking of this partly b/c of various conversations floating around this week about "foodie" meaning "snob" to some people, and how bewildering that can be for me. But I am also thinking of this because I looked at my cookbook shelf this afternoon and thought, "yep, rustic." And also, "what would I do with those chicken breasts if I had them? I'm not sure." And then there was that box of Saran Wrap.

I made homemade meatball sandwiches last night. As in, meatball sandwiches with homemade meatballs.

I have never made meatballs before. I never really liked them as a kid, and I do not really like the gigantic incarnations I sometimes run into as an adult. I do, however, for some perverse reason, like meatball sandwiches, and G. was having a craving, so I decided to give it a go.

Meatballs are really easy! I used the recipe from Bruce Aidell's meat cookbook as my base, and they really take about a half hour at most to put together, maybe ten minutes in the pan.

I made them on the smallish side, which I think helped my appreciation in the long run. And they were so good! Moist but not greasy, lightly seasoned but definitely tasting like more than just ground beef. Yum, yum. Especially on a bun adorned with mozzarella cheese and tomato sauce, but I'm sure it's just as lovely the traditional way with spaghetti. (Maybe I will find out over lunch or dinner!)

I am trying to remember what I did with the last pound or two of Key limes that I picked up at the store a while back -- and I'm failing failing. Key Lime Pie is not my favorite, so that's out. I could make limeade if all else fails, or fruit salad...

P.S. Brief research has led to statements that Key limes are both more and less acidic than the usual run of limes. :P

I made a ridiculously easy and tasty dip on Saturday:

Take one medium container (ETA: 16 oz.) of Greek-style (or similar) yogurt. Add zaatar (a Middle Eastern spice mix you might have heard me talk about before -- made of sumac, thyme, sesame) to taste -- use more than you'd think; I used at least 1/4 cup. Add a crushed garlic clove. Beat everything together with a fork or a spoon until creamy.

Eat, eat, eat!

I've seen people proclaiming themselves Bad Queers for missing various parts of Pride this year. If so, then I am a Bad Queer. I don't feel bad, though. I feel like I was taking care of myself. Running errands, hanging out. Much as I love the Dyke and Trans Marches, I don't think I could have taken the heat and the standing around and the crowds this year. My feet hurt just thinking about it. I know, this bodes ill for Dore and Folsom, too. Oh well.

For the record, I liked Juno a lot after all. It's got its problems as a text, sure, but as entertainment, it's a win. My youngest sister Emma is now allowed to recommend movies to me any time she wants.

I also made a very yummy fruit salad with the first melon of the year (a Galia), strawberries, blueberries, raspberries, peaches, a little maple sugar and a little orange flower water (just a drop or two!), plus a big handful of peppermint and spearmint from the porch. And I still have lots of peaches and strawberries in the fridge.

Now I am concentrating on nailing down the details of my leave at work, nailing down some appointments (thus the haircut), and organizing some parties in August. Also, I am watching a baseball game tonight.

When the weather gets this hot, I get a strong craving for guava nectar.

I can trace this craving back to a specific moment, over a decade or so now. I was riding shotgun across Nevada in August. We stopped off at a small rest area off the highway at some point in the late morning, as the sun was climbing the sky. My companion bought me a can of Kern's Guava Nectar and insisted I try it.

I am so glad she insisted. That stuff hit the spot in a way that can only be described by cliche. It was heaven. Cool, pink heaven.

Any time it's less than 85 degrees out, guava nectar tastes good, but not outstanding. As the temperature climbs, however, it just gets better and better and better.