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February 2012

A New Game and a Broccoli Rabe Recipe

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I’ve long been in charge of what happens at our family table, and as Nina and Pinta’s ages have climbed (and my eyesight has worsened), what happens around it has started to advance, too. We started with breast feeding and bottles, moved onto mashed up bits of sweet potato, and onto more or less adult food. I would feel that my work is done, but there’s always another dinner to cook. And that’s what I live for.

But if cooking is what I live for, I realized last night that there’s even more that can happen around the table. I had set Santa Maria up with my new favorite roast chicken (one of the things I have learned is to do the prep work in the morning, so the after-work cooking is easy) and roast potatoes, and I had chopped and washed broccoli rabe, so I thought things would be calm and easy when I got home.

But Santa Maria was at the end of her rope. Forty-five minutes of homework with the eldest and a recalcitrant younger one had worn her out. Pinta was supposed to draw a picture for school, but she wouldn’t do it. She didn’t think she could draw anything good. So Santa Maria got out her “Janson’s History of Art” from her undergraduate days, and started showing her a variety of eras, during which non representative paintings were considered quite great, and they don’t look like what they purport to be about (My favorite, which is above, was Chaim Soutine’s “Dead Fowl,” because that’s what we were having for dinner).

But no one was happy. Everyone was suffering from a blood-sugar deficit, and it was up to me to restore equanimity to the house. Having long ago learned Never to Come Home Hungry Myself, I was in good shape to help out. (These days I’ve been eating an orange on the way home; why is it that they are so filling?)

I finished off the broccoli rabe, carved the chicken, plated the potatoes, and put the ketchup on the table. Dinner was served. But the atmosphere was tense. Everyone was still cranky. What could be done?

I thought quickly, and started a game. I told everyone I was thinking of something, and that they had to guess what it was. They asked me questions, and I answered yes or no. The game captivated the children, got a smile out of Santa Maria, and then we couldn’t stop playing it. We played it through dinner, and we started again at breakfast this morning.

And what was that original thing I was thinking of? An apple crisp, of course. It’s my favorite dessert, but desserts aren’t something I have time for. Maybe someday.

Broccoli Rabe

  • 1 head of broccoli rabe, washed, stems peeled if necessary, and diced
  • 4-5 cloves garlic, chopped (or to taste)
  • crushed red peppert, to taste
  • olive oil

Sauté the garlic in a large pan.

Add the crushed pepper.

Add the rabe, and cook until the stems are tender (usually  about 5-10 minutes; pull one out and take a bite to see how the are doing).


Roast Duck With Lavender and Honey

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I had fun writing about what to cook for Valentine’s Day—and I’m happy to report that at least one reader made and enjoyed the rabbit stew I mentioned—but I couldn’t then reveal what I was planning to prepare myself. I wanted to surprise Santa Maria, and she reads this blog so I had to wait until after the big day to share what I made.

I served a fantastic roast duck, and I meant to write about it sooner, but you know how life is. It’s still mighty hectic, never mind my recent bouts of leisure, such as when I spent a perfect Saturday drinking coffee and looking at cookbooks, or how I hosted a dinner party last night that didn’t end until 1:30 a.m., and only after I sauntered into the living room and said to Guest No. 1 and Guest No. 2 “Ok, it’s time for you to leave.”

Hence, I’m only getting around to the duck now. Years ago, before we had kids, Santa Maria made a roast duck with honey and lavender, and we served it to two friends who are big Francophiles. They brought an exquisite wine, and I experienced that rare alchemic moment when the food and the wine combine in the mouth to create a hitherto unknown delicious flavor. And the more the years passed, the greater that duck loomed in my memory.

I love duck, and I often order it when out at restaurants, but I long thought of it as something that was too complicated, to rare, too expensive, to cook at home. One must be brave in romance, though, and I decided to recreate the honey-lavender duck for Santa Maria on Valentine’s Day.  Early in that week, I bought a duck from D’Artagnan, found some dried lavender at my local food coop, and I thought I was ready. A duck is just a fattier chicken, right? How hard could it be to cook?

The closer the day came, though, the more I started to get concerned. I mentioned to a friend that I was making duck, and she said, “Oh, don’t you have to prick it all over as it cooks?” “What?” I thought, “was she talking about?”

So I looked on Mark Bittman’s How to Cook Everything app on my iPod. And I looked in my heavily-stained hardcover copy of “D’Artagnan’s Glorious Game Cookbook,” and I combined a couple of recipes. As it turns out, duck is easy to roast, and this recipe is elegant, and more importantly, foolproof. Basically, you put lavender in the cavity of the bird, and it flavors the meat.

The D’Artagnan book said to truss the duck “or close with a skewer.” I looked around my kitchen, but couldn’t find any skewers. The best I could do was a paperclip. I rinsed one off, unfolded it half way, and poked it through the skin, and folded it back again. It worked like a charm.

The duck was scrumptious. The lavender suffused the meat with its aromatic flavor, and this dinner will live a long time in my memory, too. Plus, I now know that I can make it anytime I want. You should try it. Just remember, you can do it.

Roast Duck with Lavender and Honey

  • 1 whole duck, 3 to 4 pounds, giblets and excess fat removed.
  • 2 tablespoons, plus dried lavender
  • ½ cup niçoise olives
  • 4 tablespoons honey 

Preheat oven to 450 degrees

Put about half the lavender and the olives in the cavity of the bird, and close with a skewer (or paperclip!).

Mix the remaining lavender with the honey, and spread some of it over the skin of the duck as best you can. Save some for later.

Salt and pepper the bird.

Put the duck breast side down (wings up) on a rack in a roasting pan, and add water to the pan until it’s just below the bird on the rack.

Roast for 30 minutes, undisturbed. Prick the back all over with the point of a sharp knife, then flip the bird onto its back. Brush or otherwise spread some more of the honey and lavender mixture on the top of the bird. Add a bit more water to bottom of pan, if fat is spattering or the pan is dry. Be careful not to get the bird wet.

Roast for another 20 minutes, then prick the breast all over with a point of a knife, and if you have any honey-lavender mix left, spread that on the skin again.

Roast for another 15-20 minutes, or until the duck is beautifully brown all over, and an instant-read thermometer inserted into the thigh measures 155-165 degrees.

Let rest 5 minutes before carving.


Thinking about Exercise

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“We humans are microwave ovens,” was the thought that leaped into my head after reading Tara Parker-Pope’s latest column in the Times, “Exercise Fuels the Brain,” about how new research suggests that cognitive function can be improved by working out.

Let me explain. Do you know how a microwave oven works? Do you in the least understand the science behind what happens when you push the button for 30 seconds and reheat a bowl of rice or warm your forgotten cup of tea? Probably not, right?

And do you have the least idea about how your brain creates thoughts, and feelings, and memories? Or how that thing you’re carrying on the top of your shoulders actually works? How the cells in your head acquired language, how they solve puzzles, respond to your spouse’s requests? I doubt it.

Does anybody really know? I'm not sure, but Parker-Pope’s article shows that researchers are slowing starting to better understand how our brains function. According to her, exercise makes the brain work harder, and the following happens:

This increase in brain activity naturally increases the brain’s need for nutrients, but until recently, scientists hadn’t fully understood how neurons fuel themselves during exercise. Now a series of animal studies from Japan suggest that the exercising brain has unique methods of keeping itself fueled. What’s more, the finely honed energy balance that occurs in the brain appears to have implications not only for how well the brain functions during exercise, but also for how well our thinking and memory work the rest of the time.

The result, as one of the researchers puts it, is that “’it is tempting to suggest that increased storage and utility of brain glycogen in the cortex and hippocampus might be involved in the development” of a better, sharper brain.’” I’m not really sure what that means, but I know when I go for a run and then have a good breakfast, I can think better. Or at least I think I can think better.  What about you? How do you incorporate exercise into your day?


Roast Chicken Italian Style

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As I mentioned over the weekend, I had a perfect Saturday afternoon looking through cookbooks and planning dinner. It was a rare moment for me—for whatever reason, I haven’t reached that point in my life where I can sit down and do something as simple as look at some cookbooks on a weekend.

Well, I’m getting close. Last Saturday, that’s exactly what I did. I was seeking something to pair with Debbie Koenigs’s “Baked Macaroni with Ricotta, Spinach, and Mint,” from her new book, “Parents Need to Eat Too,” and I wanted an Italian roast chicken. Marcella Hazan’s “Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking” was the logical place to turn, so I pulled my copy down off my shelf and opened it up.

I combined two of Hazan’s recipes into one, borrowing her idea to put white wine on the chicken (an old trick of mine, and the rest of the world’s, I’m sure) from a recipe of hers that used chicken parts. I wanted a whole chicken, though and her suggestion, on another page, to use just a few ingredients—garlic and rosemary—was perfect. I was looking something clean and simple. Just like my life.

The bird turned out perfect. It was so good, in fact, that I’m tempted to make it again tomorrow night for my in-laws last night here. Stand by for details, and if you have a moment, tell me what you are making for dinner tonight.

Roast Chicken Italian Style

  • One 3½ lb. whole chicken, rinsed and patted dry.
  • 3 garlic cloves, peeled.
  • 1 Tablespoon plus dried rosemary
  • Salt and pepper
  • 1 cup dry white wine

Preheat oven to 375 degrees.

Put the garlic, rosemary, and a bunch of salt in the cavity of the chicken, and then toss some more rosemary and salt and pepper on its outside*.

Put the chicken on a rack in a roasting pan and put about a cup of water in the base of the pan (just enough to cover the bottom, and not enough to come up to the chicken; this will keep the bird from smoking and make the clean up easier).

Roast the chicken for about a half hour and then douse with wine.

Roast another half hour or until an instant-read meat thermometer inserted in the thigh reads at least 165 degrees.

 

*Note: I dressed the bird about an hour before I was going to cook it, and I left it sitting, uncovered, in the roasting pan on the top of the stove, which brought it up to room temperature before I put in the oven. If you have time to do this, I suggest it.


Four Stars for Baked Macaroni with Ricotta, Spinach, and Mint, from “Parents Need to Eat Too”

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As I mentioned on Saturday, I was planning to make Debbie Koenig’s “Baked Macaroni with Ricotta, Spinach, and Mint,” from her forthcoming book, “Parents Need to Eat Too,” for dinner. I wanted to serve the dish to help stretch a roast chicken I was making for my in-laws and my family.

I’m not so keen on baked pasta dishes, but this one promised something different. It had mint in it, and that sounded great. Also, my kids love mint. They pick it in the back yard of their grandmother’s house and eat it by the fistful every time they visit her. And sure enough, when I was done washing the mint, Pinta wanted not one, but two and not just two leaves, but two big ones. And she brought the same to her sister, Nina. And then did it over and over again. I was starting to think I might not have enough mint for the recipe.

Because this was the first time I was making the recipe, I tried to stick to its exact measurements and suggestions. All the same, I couldn’t help myself. I just had to make a few changes, and that to me is the beauty of cooking for yourself—you want to put marshmallows in your risotto, be my guest. That might not be the way I would make it, but, hey, I’m not you.

All I wanted to do was to add a little garlic, and to change the way she adds the spinach. In her recipe, she has a great time-saving technique of cooking the spinach with the pasta. I wanted to chop up the spinach so my girls wouldn’t object to its presence. Little bitty pieces, I figured, would go unremarked upon, and may even be mistaken for mint.

I didn’t actually think my girls would eat the dish, though, because they have a heartless way of rejecting all new things these days (unless, perhaps, they have marshmallows in them). So figured, what the heck, I’ll try and make it as delicious as possible. They do eat spinach pizza, so a little spinach and garlic might just work.

I sautéed the spinach with the garlic in advance, and then chopped it finely. After the penne was par-cooked per the directions, I tossed it in with the pasta.

I also made a few other changes as I went along. I doubled the amount of mint—from ¼ cup to ½ cup, chopped—because I happened to have washed more than I needed, and I figured more of a good thing would just be better.

And I just about doubled the amount of ricotta—from 1 cup to 15 ounces, because that’s the amount that was in the container I bought, and frankly, what was I going to do with a spare seven ounces of ricotta?

I followed the rest of Koenig’s directions to the letter, and in the end I think I would have put even more cheese in the dish. And more pasta sauce. But that’s just me

As for the ultimate arbiters of the dish? Nina and Pinta firmly rejected the pasta at first offering. I didn’t make too big a deal of it. I reminded them that it had mint in it, and that they had been gobbling that up before dinner. I pointed out that it was full of just about the same ingredients as pizza, but then I dropped it.

Frankly, it didn’t matter to me if they ate it or not. The rest of the dinner consisted of roast chicken and a romaine salad. They love both those things, and if that’s all they wanted, I was content with that. That menu is a bit Atkins, but they get plenty of carbs and calories elsewhere during the day.

And so my light touch paid off. Nina ate her small serving and said, “I liked it but I didn’t like it.” And, after pointing out to her that she ate it all, I left it at that. Okay, when she asked for plain pasta, I told her I didn’t have any. If she was hungry, she could eat the pasta I made. And sure enough, as dinner was winding down, she sheepishly requested some more.

I gave it to her without any fanfare, and then her strident younger sister who had been firm in her resolve not to touch the pasta, starting eating her serving, and asked for more, too, when that was gone.  If this website had a star-rating system for new recipes, based on their reception of it, I’d have to give it four stars! And maybe make it 4.5 stars, because I had the leftovers for lunch the next day, and they were quite yummy.

Here is my adapted recipe. For Koenig’s original recipe, click here, or better yet, buy a copy of the book. It’s on sale tomorrow, Feb. 21, here and a bookstore near you.

Baked Macaroni with Ricotta, Spinach, and Mint, adapted from “Parents Need to Eat Too”

 

  • 3 cloves garlic, minced
  • 8 ounces baby spinach
  • Olive oil
  • 2 cups part-skim ricotta
  • 2/3 cups grated Parmesan
  • ½ cup chopped mint leaves
  • One 14.5- to 16-ounce box whole-wheat or whole-grain ziti or penne
  • One 24- to 26-ounce jar marinara sauce
  • ¼ teaspoon pepper
  • 1 cup shredded mozzarella

Preheat oven to 375°F.

Grease two 8-inch square baking dishes or one 9 x 13-inch dish.

In a frying pan, sauté the garlic and the spinach until the spinach is completely wilted. Remove from the heat, and chop finely. Toss spinach on paper towel to remove some of the liquid while preparing the rest of the recipe. Set aside.

Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil

Cook the pasta for 1 minutes less than directed on the package.

While the pasta is cooking, combine the ricotta, Parmesan, mint, and pepper in a small bowl and set aside.

When the pasta is cooked, drain well, then return pasta to pot and add the spinach. Mix well.

Add the entire jar of sauce to the spinach and pasta and stir to combine.

If using two 8-inch baking dishes, spread about one quarter of the pasta mixture on the bottom of each prepared dish (use one half of the pasta mixture if using one 9 x 13-inch dish). Spoon all of the ricotta mixture on top of the pasta layer (it will be too stiff to spread). Top with remaining pasta mixture.

Sprinkle the mozzarella on top, and bake until the mozzarella is melted and golden- brown, about 20 to 25 minutes.


The Picture of a Perfect Saturday

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The house was quite as I sat down to plan dinner. Santa Maria was on the playground with Nina and Pinta. I was just back from a run, and after I showered, I poured myself a big cup of coffee with steamed milk and opened two cookbooks, Debbie Koenig’s “Parents Need to Eat Too” and Marcella Hazan’s “Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking.”

My in-laws were coming to visit, and I was going to make a roast chicken. We eat organic, free-range chickens, and they are great, but they are small. One usually feeds the four of us. Now, I had two more mouths to feed with the same-sized bird.

I decided to make Koenig’s “Baked Macaroni with Ricotta, Spinach, and Mint” to stretch the meat. Her dish is nominally Italian, with a ricotta and red-sauce base, so I figured my usual ginger-lemon-thyme chicken might not go so well. I thought Hazan might have a good recipe for an Italian roast chicken.

She had did have one, with rosemary and garlic, and it was divine. I also made the pasta, and it was a big hit. “I like it but I don’t like it,” Pinta said. But then she asked for seconds, and you can't argue with that. I’ll have the full report, complete with recipes, early next week.


Cookbook Giveaway Time! "Parents Need to Eat Too"

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Ever since I started into blogging about cooking for my family, I’ve been following Debbie Koenig’s site Words to Eat By, which is now Parents Need to Eat Too. She switched the name of her blog, because she has a new cookbook “Parents Need to Eat Too” coming out shortly.

Recently, she invited me to participate in its promotion. With a name like that, how could I resist? “Parents Need to Eat Too” is my driving philosophy, though I would put it a bit more succinctly: Parents Need to Eat. Period.

I will do almost anything to advance the cause of home cooking, so I’m happy to get behind her book. Also, the publisher offered me a chance to win some kitchen gear, and some books to give to my readers: “Parents Need to Eat Too” or the “The Treats Truck Baking Book.”

“Parents Need to Eat Too” is a fine book for folks with a new baby in the house. I can say this because I once had a new baby in the house. Well, not once, but twice, and I can’t tell you a thing about what you should do. I’ve forgotten everything. It’s biology. Who would ever have a second child if they could remember the exhaustion and terror of the first? And I’m just the man. I didn’t give birth to anything other than my own anxieties."Parents Need to Eat Too" will answer a lot of your questions. And if you pre-order here, you will get a few bonus features.

I'll be posting again shortly after I try one of her recipes, but speaking of being a man, there’s a chapter in the book, “Un-Recipes For Partners Who Can’t Cook,” that is clearly directed at the fathers. It starts with an anecdote from a reader of her blog, “Emily O., Brooklyn NY,” who writes “I have a 21-month-old and another due in August, and my husband, while a great dad, is also  a stereotypical Irish man in that he’s never learned to cook…”

"Stereotypical Irish man who never learned to cook?" Ahem. So, here’s how you can win a copy of “Parents Need to Eat Too” or “The Treats Truck Baking Book”: tell me a story of your first cooking experience as a new father. The tastiest one will get the book. Personally, I started with Bolognese and roast leg of lamb. What about you? 

 


How to Get Your Kids to Help You in the Kitchen

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The other day, for the first time in my life, I grabbed hold of the holy grail of cooking for the family—I had my kids to join me in the kitchen, where they actually helped.

I was making Danish meatballs called Frikadeller, along with green beans as a side dish. Pinta was intent on being with me. I’ve learned that having her wash a vegetable is a great way to keep her occupied in the kitchen. She loves playing with the water, so I set her up with a strainer and a bunch of the green beans. She started washing, and would have continued until the next morning, but eventually it was time to move on.

So, I stood her on a chair, gave her a knife, and showed her how to trim the ends off the beans. She’s not yet five, but I think that's old enough to start learning some knife skills. Still, I didn’t give her a big chef’s knife, just a small and sharp steak knife. We went over some basic terms: blade versus handle, and I kept an eye on her to remind her not to get distracted, lest she poke herself in the eye, or gouge me in the arm while wildly making a point with her hands. She was good about that. And she loved cutting off the ends of the beans.

Her sister, Nina, saw what was happening, and wanted to join in. I was happy that Pinta was engaged with the beans, and I didn’t want to mess up a good thing. I told Nina that I’d find something else for her to do. I was about to fry up the Frikadeller, and had her stand with me and flip them in the pan. I let her hold the spatula by herself, and she only burned herself once.

 Frikadeller

  • 2/3 cup cold water
  • ½ cup homemade, unseasoned breadcrumbs (or a little more, depending)
  • 2 eggs, slightly beaten
  • 1 teaspoon salt
  • 1 teaspoon pepper
  • 1 tablespoon apple-cider vinegar (or white wine, if that’s all you have)
  • ¼ cup chopped fresh parsley
  • 1 small onion, minced
  • 2 lbs ground turkey

In a large bowl, combine all the ingredients except the turkey. Stir well until mixed together. Let the mixture rest in the refrigerator for about ten minutes, until the breadcrumbs absorb the liquid

Add the ground turkey to the bowl and mix well

Heat oven to 350 degrees.

Oil a baking sheet and set it nearby.

Heat a large frying pan with some oil for frying.

Using a spoon and/or your hands, make small balls out of the mixture and place the mixture in the frying pan. Flatten the balls so the are no longer round, and are more oblong than circular.

Fry on one side until brown, and then flip.

When brown on both sides (more or less), remove the meatballs from the frying pan and slide them on the baking sheet.

Repeat until all the mixture is used up and you have a baking sheet full of meatballs.

Bake the meatballs in the oven for 20 minutes.

This recipe is adapted from Laurie David’s excellent book, "The Family Dinner." The recipe comes from David’s personal chef, Kirstin Uhrenholdt; it was her grandmother’s.


Rabbit Stew with Sage and Bacon for Valentine's Day

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Tuesday is Valentine’s Day, and if you’re the guy in the kitchen and you’re not eating out, you probably know in advance what you plan on cooking. And if you’ve been reading this blog for any time, and if you have any sense of your own, you have already done your shopping for the big night.

But if you haven’t yet gotten ready, I have a money-saving, potentially romance-saving tip: Make a rabbit stew, it’ll be far less expensive than eating out, and you’ll have a night you’ll always remember. I’ve written before about how crowd pleasing rabbit can be. Rabbit seems to get everybody excited. It sounds so exotic and sophisticated, but it’s really as easy to cook as chicken (at least almost), as easy to prepare (almost), and as tasty (more so).

The following rabbit-stew recipe is an old one, and I’m not sure where I found it. I first made it some fifteen years ago for two close friends, and then in an unintended coincidence, I made it for the same friends again just recently. I remembered it as delicious, and it was. It’s a combination of bacon and sage, with a dash of Balsamic vinegar over a base of chicken stock and white wine.

What I didn’t remember is how simple it is. It can be made in less time than it takes to pick out a Valentine’s Day card on Feb. 13th.  And don’t fret if you don’t yet have a rabbit. Check with your local butcher, and if you don’t have one near where you live, D’Artagnan can ship you one overnight. You can do it. 

Rabbit Stew with Sage and Bacon

 

  • 4 slices of bacon
  • 3 or more garlic cloves
  • 6 or more fresh sage leaves
  • Flour for dredging (optional)
  • Salt and pepper to taste
  • 1 3lb rabbit, cut into pieces*
  • ¼ cup olive or other vegetable oil
  • 2 cups chicken or vegetable stock
  • 1 tsp. Balsamic vinegar
  • 1 cup dry white wine

 

Chop the bacon in to small pieces.

Mince the garlic.

Chop the sage in to small pieces.

Combine the bacon, garlic, and sage, and mince again until nearly a paste.

Combine the flour and the salt and pepper and dredge the rabbit pieces in the flour

Heat the olive oil in the bottom of a large casserole, and fry the rabbit until brown. Turn as necessary.

Remove the pieces as they brown. Don’t crowd the pan. Work in batches if necessary. Set pieces aside.

Drain off any excess oil, and add the bacon/garlic/sage mixture, and cook on moderate heat for about three minutes.

Add the Balsamic vinegar and wine, and simmer for about five minutes.

Add the rabbit and the stock, cover, and simmer for about forty-five minutes, stirring every so often and adding stock if necessary to keep the meat moist.

Remove the meat when it is tender and reduce the sauce.

Serve over couscous or rice, or with a piece of hearty bread.

 

*Cutting up a rabbit is easy. It’s just like cutting up a chicken, if a chicken had four legs. Cut the back ones off at the joint (always driving the knife through the knuckle of the joint; find it by moving the limb back and forth), and cut the front legs off the same way. Cut the legs in two at the joints. Take a cleaver, and hack the saddle (the long part with the backbone) into about three pieces. You can do it. 


A Little Advice

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Here’s the thing about successfully cooking for your family: never stop doing it, no matter how busy you are working, socializing, helping the kids do their homework, watching sports, or hanging with your wife. Whatever it is you do with you life, make sure cooking is as a central part of it as breathing.

As I write this, I have a pot of stock on the stove that I’ve been trying to get into the freezer for the past week. Maybe when I finish this post, I’ll ladle it out into quart containers and finally put it away. Or maybe I’ll just stick it in the fridge again for a few days. I just boiled it, so it should be fine, either way. And someday I’ll be ecstatic to have the stock on hand.

How do I know? As sure as the sun rises in the east and sets in the west, there's nothing better than a fully stocked larder. This evening, I didn't have time to cook, and I was overjoyed to have leftover Harried Dad’s Aloo Gobi and roasted pork loin on hand. I had whipped up those things the night before, when I had a bit more time, and all I did was make a bit more (actually twice as much) as I needed. You can do it, too.

Quick and easy Aloo Gobi
  • 1 head cauliflower, cut into 1 inch florets
  • 1 potatoes, cut into small cubes
  • 1 twenty-eight ounce can of peeled tomatoes, chopped
  • 2 tablespoons vegetable oil
  • 1 cup frozen peas
  • 1 tsp. whole cumin seeds
  • 1 tsp. cumin powder
  • 1 tsp. turmeric
  • 2 tsp. coriander
  • 1 dash cayenne pepper
  • 1 cup boiling water
  • salt and pepper to taste

Heat the oil in a large pan.

When it is smoking, add the cumin seeds and cook for about twenty seconds.

Add the remaining spices and then the potatoes and cauliflower.

Stir to coat the vegetables with the spices.

Add the tomatoes and the water and simmer until the potatoes are soft, about twenty minutes.

Add the peas and cook until they are defrosted.

Serve and garnish with chopped cilantro.

Roast Pork Tenderloin

 

  • Olive Oil
  • A bit of Garam Masala, about a teaspoon
  • A bit of mustard, to taste
  • Salt and pepper, to taste
  • 2 pork tenderloins, about 2 lbs


Turn on the oven’s broiler.
Mix the olive oil and the spices and the mustard in a bowl.
Lay the pork on a roasting sheet and coat with the mixture.
Put the meat under the broiler for about ten minutes a side, until it browns.
Cook it to an internal temperature of about 150 degrees, which will leave a little pink but be safe to eat.

Note: This makes great, low-fat sandwiches when put on bread with caramelized onions.