blog archive for May 2008

Tried a new chip over the weekend. Made by FoodsShouldTasteGood, a company in Massachusetts, theses chips are super tasty. The Olive flavor I  tried is made from stone-ground white corn, black olives, green olives, garlic powder, sea salt, high oleic sunflower oil and canesugar fiber. Gluten-free and kosher, they're great for scooping dips (I served them with guacamole). Currently the company offers four flavors of tortilla chips — Multigrain, Jalapeno, Olive, and Chocolate — and distributes them through Whole Foods, Wegmans, Harris Teeter, Giant and several other retailers. For more information or to order online, go to www.foodshouldtastegood.com

I read that students at the Culinary Institute of America are complaining about their chefs’ jackets. “They’re poorly designed,” they say. There are other things the students are unhappy with, but jackets are at the top of the list. Anyone who doesn’t cook might think the budding chefs are making too much fuss about something that’s supposed to have a boxy fit and comes in loose, looser and loosest. But since I spend most of my waking hours wearing an apron, I know how important it is to be able to move your arms when you’re cooking.     

I’m the kind of person who puts on an apron to mix yogurt. When I visit my daughter, I pack an apron, and when I have to help set the table at someone’s house, I ask for an apron. It’s not like I wear designer clothes that would be ruined by spots, it’s that I never know when I’ll be asked to give something a stir.     

When people know how much time you’re in the kitchen, they buy you aprons. I have two drawers full of them, most of which I never wear because they don’t fit right. A few of the ones I like are worn so thin, the strings are practically threads, but I can’t bring myself to throw them away.       

Which brings me to my ideal apron. First, the fabric has to be soft.  It doesn’t have to drape like haute couture, but it shouldn’t feel like it’s been marinated overnight in a bucket of starch. The strings have to be long enough to wrap around and tie in the front, and the apron should have pockets big enough to hold more than a folded Kleenex. I know it’s chic to wear aprons that go from waist to toes, but they make me look like a cross between a French waiter and a grill cook at a roadside diner. I need protection from the waist up. When a pot of spaghetti sauce is bubbling on the stove, it’s my chest that gets splashed, not my knees.       

You would think an apron — basically a flat piece of fabric with deep pockets and two long ties — would be easy enough to find, but trust me, it’s not. Which is why I’m thinking about taking up sewing.

The tiny unincorporated town of Dixon Springs, Tenn., about 40 miles northeast of Nashville, sprang into the national limelight about three years ago as the home of the Great Tennessee Pot Cave. This natural limestone cave, 100 feet-by-500-feet with 20-foot ceilings, had been outfitted by an enterprising marijuana grower to the tune of a quarter of a million dollars.

When the grower was arrested, his cave was put up for auction, and Wisconsin cheesemaker Roth Kase bought it. The company has plans to work with local producers of of cow's, sheep's, and goat's milk and will use the temperature-controlled and humidity-controlled cave as a place to cure cheese.

Tennessee has a few cheesemakers already and, of course, welcomes Roth Kase, but it may be a while before we're in Wisconsin's league. A quick glance at Jeanette Hurt's new book, The Cheese of Wisconsin: A Culinary Travel Guide (The Countryman Press, 2008, $19.95) turns up dozens of cheesemakers in the state. She provides a list of facilities that welcome visitors and includes a map showing producer locations — all of which have us dreaming of a thriving cheese-making industry and artisans' shops to tour close to home.

A couple of years ago, my sister and I had dinner at a very nice restaurant in Nova Scotia. With our drinks came a small dish of salted almonds, which I thought was the classiest thing I'd ever seen.  hen and there, I decided small dishes were exactly what my supper table needed for an upscale look. Of course, my "little dishes" run more along the line of baby carrots, which are really grown-up carrots downsized, and tortilla chips, which I'll get to in a minute. When my sister visits, I add a little dish of the Kalamata olives she loves, and when my son is here, I make sure a bottle of hot sauce is within easy reach. I keep an assortment of salsas in the fridge for my daughter, and when we're feeling flush, I put out a dish of cashews.

On an ordinary night, I do the carrots and my husband does the chips, which is his idea of helping get supper on the table.  Before we fill our little dishes, I'm in the kitchen cooking and he's in his sitting room meditating — clearing his head and relaxing his body.  If I'm trying a new recipe or have more than three pots going on top of the stove, I am more than a little frazzled.  My husband, sensing I'm "in a mood" knows that asking, "Is everything all right?" would only make things worse.  But he also knows my favorite chips are the folded ones and the ones I'm really crazy about look like the sides are practically hugging each other. He says, "I found a folded one for you" and it usually works like a charm — all it takes to clear the air in our kitchen is a folded corn chip.

The highlight of my day is lunch, which tells you something about my life.  On a good day, I can manage to put it off until around three, which means while my husband is eating lunch at noon, I'm having a "midmorning" cup of coffee.  By the time I finish lunch, it's almost time to start dinner, so afternoons have sort of slipped out of my life.

You would think the reason for late lunch could be that it's very complicated and needs hours to cook, like veal Orloff or braised lamb shanks with exotic mushrooms and white beans.  The thing of it is my lunch is usually a piece of toast, a slice of cheese and a couple of pieces of tomato. In other words, it's an ordinary open-face sandwich that could come out of a cookbook for beginning cooks — like children.  

Occasionally someone wants to meet for lunch. I try not to sound wimpish by saying how nice it would be to have coffee, but that's pretty much what I say. If I want to be expansive, I throw in "and a muffin." The truth is, I cannot bring myself to admit I'm in a lunch rut I can't seem to pull out of.  

I have no idea why this lunch issue has become such a big deal. It's  not even my favorite meal.  That would be breakfast, but that's another story.

Want to do you part to end hunger in America and clean out your pantry at the same time? Here’s how. On May 10, gather together a collection of nonperishable food—canned soup, meats, fish, juices, vegetables and fruits; boxed goods (such as cereal); and bags or boxes of pasta and rice—and leave the bag wherever your letter carrier normally leaves your mail. The nation’s 230,000 letter carriers will collect these donations in more than 10,000 communities and deliver them to food banks and other hunger relief organizations. Last year, they collected more than 70 million pounds of food. For more information, go to the Stamp Out Hunger Food Drive's website.