Two-headed ’snake’ strikes

Allow me to speak figuratively. The ’snake’ refers to sickness and, this week, I’m feeling two types: one a sore throat and the other, oh, is nasty – buyer’s remorse. It centers around a helpless chicken. A chicken that left me $17.30 lighter in the wallet. I came down with a scratchy throat on Tuesday, and, allowing the sickness to decide a meal, had a hankering for chicken noodle soup, like my mom makes. So, I set out for a place that is growing to be one of my favorites in Boston’s South End (I won’t give the name because I don’t want to give the wrong impression that they overcharge for chickens. The shop supplies poultry, meats, produce from farmers who practice sustainable, humane methods of raising animals and tending the land). For that reason alone, I like the shop. But along with that comes more expensive prices compared to supermarkets. One grocer had whole chickens going for $1.59 per pound. I paid around $4.50 per pound for my chicken. So I’m left with a chicken that will go into a pot, with water, two bay leaves and later, pieces of carrot, onion and celery, for tonight’s chicken noodle soup with good ol’ Jiffy corn muffins. A man at the store suggested I roast the chicken, but my throat is in the mood for soup. Tyler Florence’s blog has a recipe for bone-in, skin-on chicken breasts roasted with lemon and herbs with smashed broccoli and garlic.

Thus, Thursday afternoon and into the evening, the thought, “I spent too much on myself,” haunted me. Well, giving some soup to roommates could soothe the guilt.  But buyer’s remorse has hit before. I paid $10.50 for a quart of vanilla ice cream in August at one ice cream retailer. So what do I see Thursday in a supermarket ad? One company sells their ice cream (in 48- to 56-ounce containers) for $1.99. I called another ice cream retailer in town and a quart there sells for $9.50. I guess that is what you pay for premium ice cream, premium chicken, premium anything.

It comes down to cost and conscious. Do you sleep better at night knowing you paid a little more but have a chicken in the refrigrator that was allowed to run free, or paid less, but have a chicken cooped-up alongisde other chickens in a pen similar to travelers on a crammed Boston subway train?

While I like buying produce procured from local farms and fair-trade coffee, I’ll take spending less. Spending more causes guilt. But it’s ironic since most of the money I spend revolves around food (excluding bills). And, perhaps this is self-centric because the buyer’s remorse only affects me whereas how I spend money says a lot about what I support, a topic for another discussion. For this instance, it’s a process of learning to make budget-conscious choices. It took ice cream and chicken to reveal that I am a slave, somewhat to money, which is not a good thing.

Buyer’s remorse is like a nagging sore throat that strikes on occasion. To answer both sicknesses, there’s the key step: praying to God for healing. Then comes a little help from a chicken, pot of water, carrots, onions, celery.

Trying turnip greens

 

I’m searching for the tastiest way to prepare turnip greens. I didn’t know that pulling those roots about a week and a half ago from the community garden plot would turn into an experiment. But it has. I’ve tried them raw and steamed, neither to satisfaction. In the raw state, it feels like grainy paper on the tongue. They were bitter and tasted like pepper and mustard. Steamed, the leaves turned a deep green and the stalks remained crunchy. The flavor here was less appealing than the raw greens. They were more bitter and peppery. A dose of maple syrup would have done good. As it was, I used olive oil, balsamic vinegar, Kosher salt, ground black pepper, and added dried cranberries and walnuts.

I haven’t blanched them or added the greens to cream yet. Perhaps blanching would rid the greens of some bitterness. There’s only one way to find out.  I’ll keep you posted.

Have any of you found a way to make turnip greens taste good? Please tell. Thank you.

Oh, please help me find a way to make these things taste good. I tried boiling them with half a leek in some lightly salted water for about 22 minutes. Boiling removed all bitterness, along with pepper and mustard flavors. The result was dismal. These greens had no flavor. Last night I tried mixing some powdered Parmesan into them, but it didn’t help. They needed salt and some sprucing up. I can see why you would want to saute the greens in some bacon fat or boil them with a ham hock. But is there another way besides pork fat to make these stubborn greens taste good?

Well, there’s progress on the turnip greens front. As a side dish to leftover black bean, salsa and goat cheese pizza, I plucked some turnip greens from the garden and lightly dressed them (raw) with olive oil, lime juice and…maple syrup. Kosher salt and ground black pepper went in, too. But the maple syrup’s sweetness played the key contrast to the green’s pepper taste. The combination of maple and lime is intriguing – a bright hint of acidity to go with smooth, comforting sweetness. The combination might be especially appealing with sweet potatoes. I’m still searching for a cooking method and ingredients that will make greens taste good. For now, thank you maple syrup.

A tasty discovery

 

 How could I dress up pasta in a new way? In search of a different direction than tomato, olive oil or even pesto, inspiration, whether I knew it or not, subconsciously seeped into my brain from two, possibly three sources. From the book, “A Homemade Life” by Molly Wizenberg (author of the blog Orangette), which I recommend for anyone who appreciates good writing and likes food, to a pasta with creamed leeks and BACON recipe I printed months ago. When I grab the carton of half-n-half for my morning coffee, I’m reminded of that creamed leek pasta recipe. Inspiration might have come from time in America’s Test Kitchen as an intern. So the two ingredients that came to the forefront are bacon and half-n-half. Now, half-n-half (besides baking or for sweets) and bacon are two ingredients I hardly ever cook with. I’m more a fan of vinaigrette dressings and pasta sauces with tomato or olive oil as the main ingredient. I worry about the salt content and fat of bacon and the fat in cream. But after tasting the whole wheat spaghetti  I made with bacon, leeks, navy beans and half-n-half, a splurge every now and then is quite alright.

Perhaps cooking with bacon fat is the key to unsurpassed flavor. This dish brought salty crisp bacon together with creamy, mild leeks in a sauce that coated the pasta without running onto the plate. There wasn’t really a sauce left. It made the leeks stick together. I don’t think I added any salt to the dish. I’ll give the recipe below with rough estimates of ingredient amounts but the idea is: Cook pasta in boiling, salted water until tender and drain, reserving about two, 8-ounce ladles of cooking liquid. Cook bacon until crisp, saute leeks in some of bacon fat, add cooked navy beans (which are more filler than anything), reserved pasta cooking liquid and half-n-half. The sauce was runny with half-n-half, so I sprinkled about 2 tablespoons over leeks and heated it through until it thickened. If you use heavy cream (which I recommend) you might not have to add the flour. Add pasta to ingredients in skillet and combine. Crumble bacon and scatter it on top and serve. Please try this. Chances are you won’t be disappointed.

Whole Wheat Pasta with Bacon, Leeks, Navy Beans

Serves 3 moderate eaters

6 ounces whole wheat spaghetti

Kosher salt

1 tablespoon canola oil

2 slices bacon

3/4 large leek or 1 medium leek, halved lengthwise, washed clean of all dirt, sliced into 1/4-inch half moons

3/4 to 1 cup cooked navy beans

1/4 cup heavy cream

Ground black pepper to taste

  Fill a medium pot three-quarters full with water and bring to boil. While that’s going, pour canola oil into large, non-stick skillet, add bacon and cook over medium heat until crisp. Drain bacon on paper towels and cool. Pour off all but 1 tablespoon bacon fat and add leeks. Cook leeks over medium-high to medium heat until they soften and start to brown with a caramel color.

Once water for pasta comes to a boil,  add about two teaspoons kosher salt and spaghetti and cook until tender. Reserve two, 8-ounce ladles of cooking liquid. Drain rest of pasta and reserve.

Once leeks cook, add in beans, reserved pasta cooking liquid and cream. Combine ingredients, bring to a boil, then reduce to a simmer. Reduce cream enough to where you can run your finger along the back of a wooden coated with the sauce and sauce doesn’t drip or run across the line. Taste for salt (you may not need to add any) and add black pepper to taste. Add pasta to skillet and combine to coat spaghetti strands. Crumble bacon over top and serve.

Attack on joy

Today I’m veering from talk about food or a restaurant. It’s been a difficult week, mentally, and I feel the need to release a tad bit. Please bear with me. Last Friday marked the end of the internship at America’s Test Kitchen and with no job, yet, the days become more of a blank canvas. Thus with nowhere to be in the mornings, my mind is left open to guilt, worry, thinking about what I said. I won’t go into finite details here, but it’s a struggle. The challenge is filling the day in productive ways. The lazy side wants to relax and welcome the job into my hands. I’ll be honest. I don’t want to look for a job. The motivation and enthusiasm aren’t there. Oh, that Jesus would change my outlook, to delight in the task. He wants to teach me something through it. I can worry about it, but it only harms my relationship with God and Jesus, goes against God’s Word and harms my body. Nothing good comes from worry.  Please pray for me.

I turned in an application at a bakery and have an interview for a line cook position today. The interview is a step. There is joy in each step, if I only relax and look for it.