Chicken-in-the-pot

Last night when I couldn't sleep I started going through pictures of myself on Facebook, which is narcissistic, but also, I guess it's in the perpetual attempt to try and figure out where I actually am, versus where I actually was, and actually how is it that anyone gets from Point A and arrives at Point NOW? 

I don't know. 

I've been thinking about the past year a lot, because years always seem to sort of roll themselves over in the summertime for me, and also I've been thinking about the future. 

I think I'm supposed to be thinking about my "career" and "the job market" and other imposing, adult, grey-sounding words that make me want to bury my head in the sand. 

Instead though, I just daydream about being home with my little brothers and making chicken-in-the-pot. 

I want to make this chicken every day for a week, because it smells like the actual smell of heaven, and I want to make it with bright sweet potatoes and fat sticks of celery and thin, translucent slices of yellow bell peppers and the rinds of pickled lemons. 

I want to make this more than almost anything else right now, but at the moment, I don't have a kitchen. 

I don't know what I'm supposed to do with all the past selves, that linger on various social media platforms, and I don't know what I'm supposed to do with the future cubicle that real adulthood sometimes appears to be. 

I'm trying to trust that even when I can't fall asleep, everything is still okay. 

I think this is what they call "faith." 

Besides, the future isn't here yet, and the past went. 

So I'm craving chicken-in-the-pot. And for the time being, I can't have it. 

It's okay. 

So I guess I'm here, at Point NOW. 

And really, it ain't so bad. 

Chicken-in-the-Pot Makes 4 servings (but you can multiply the recipe easily)
from cookbook goddess Dorie Greenspan 

Approximately 2/3 cup extra-virgin olive oil
4 heads of garlic, broken into cloves, but not peeled
16 shallots, peeled and trimmed, or 4 onions, peeled, trimmed and quartered, or 4 leeks, white part only, halved lengthwise
8 carrots, peeled, trimmed and quartered
4 celery stalks, trimmed and quartered
Salt and freshly ground pepper
4 sprigs fresh thyme
4 sprigs flat-leaf parsley
3 sprigs fresh rosemary
Grated zest of 1 lemon
16 prunes, optional (apricots or dried apples are also good in this dish)
1 chicken, whole or cut-up
1/2 small (2 lbs or less) cabbage, green or red, cut into 4 wedges (try Savoy cabbage)
1 cup chicken broth
1/2 cup white wine, or another 1/2 cup chicken broth
About 1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour, for the seal
About 3/4 cup hot water, for the seal

Preheat the oven to 450 degrees F.

Set a large skillet over high heat and add about 2 tablespoons of the olive oil. Toss in the garlic cloves and all the vegetables, EXCEPT the cabbage - you might have to do this in two batches, you don't want to crowd the skillet - season generously with salt and pepper and cook, stirring, until the vegetables are lightly browned on all sides. Spoon the vegetables into a large Dutch oven with a tight-fitting lid - you'll need a pot that holds at least 5 quarts. Stir in the herbs, lemon zest and prunes, if you're using them.

Return the skillet to the heat and add another tablespoon or so of oil. Season the chicken with salt and pepper and brown the chicken on all sides. Put the chicken in the casserole, nestling it among the vegetables. Fit the cabbage wedges around the chicken.

Stir together the chicken broth, wine and 1/2 cup olive oil and pour the mixture over the chicken and vegetables.

Now you have a choice: you can cover the pot with a sheet of aluminum foil and the lid, or you can make a paste to seal the lid. To make the paste, stir the flour and water together, mixing until you have a soft, workable dough. Working on a floured surface, shape the dough into a long sausage, then press the sausage onto the rim of the casserole. Press the lid into the dough to seal the pot.

Slide the pot into the oven and bake for 70 minutes. If you need to keep it in the oven a little longer because you're not ready for it, don't worry - turn the heat down to 325 degrees F and you'll be good for another 30 minutes or so.

The easiest way to break the seal, is to wiggle the point of a screwdriver between the dough and the pot - being careful not to stand in the line of the escaping (and wildly aromatic) steam. If the chicken was whole, quarter it and return it to the pot, so that you can serve directly from the pot, or arrange the chicken and vegetables on a serving platter.

Chicken Curry with Cashews

My whole life I've struggled with self-doubt. 

I've wasted so much time asking myself "Am I worthy?" of work and love and questioning over and over and over again if I am enough or capable or deserving. 

So much doubt. 

I don't know why. 

I don't know where doubt comes from. 

Fear, I guess. 

And specifically the fear of failure and pain. 

I don't doubt myself when I cook. 

Because there is something to measuring, there is something to learning how to knead bread, and follow a recipe-- that makes my doubt melt away. 

Because all you have to do is whatever comes next, and that is enough. 

That's all you can do. 

And if the recipe is bad, or you mess something up, fundamentally, it doesn't really matter. 

So I like taking risks in the kitchen. 

Because why not? 

Because thinking that I'm not capable of cooking something is stupid and only leaves me hungry. 

So I made my first ever curry, because surprisingly, I had all the right ingredients.  

And I made it and I liked it. 

And making it made me feel capable. Like I was enough. 

Of course, doubt comes back to me, all the time. 

It's a problem that all the curries in the world probably can't solve. 

But maybe. 

Maybe with each new recipe,  I'll keeping doubting a little less, until all the doubt is finally gone. 

I hope so. 

I love you. 

XOXOXO

m 

Chicken Curry with Cashews

from Gourmet Today by Ruth Reichl 

NB: Though the recipe calls for a cut-up whole chicken, you can use an equivalent amount of chicken parts or all thighs. 

1/2 stick (4 tablespoons) unsalted butter

2 medium onions, finely chopped

2 large garlic cloves, finely chopped

1 tablespoon finely chopped peeled fresh ginger

3 tablespoons curry powder

2 teaspoons salt

1 teaspoon ground cumin

1/2 teaspoon cayenne

1 (3 1/2 to 4 pound) chicken, rinsed, patted dry, and cut into 10 serving pieces (breasts cut crosswise in half) 

1 (14 to 15 ounce) can diced tomatoes in juice

1/4 cup chopped fresh cilantro 

3/4 cup cashews (toasted or raw) 

2/3 cup whole-milk yogurt 

garnish: chopped fresh cilantro

accompaniment: basmati or jasmine rice

Heat butter in a 5 to 6-quart wide heavy pot over moderately low heat until foam subsides. Add onions, garlic, and ginger and cook, stirring, until softened, about 5 minutes. Add curry powder, salt, cumin, and cayeene and cook, stirring, for 2 minutes. Add chicken and cook, stirring to coat, for 3 minutes. 

Add tomatoes with juice and cilantro and bring to a simmer; then cover and simmer gently, stirring occasionally, until chicken is cooked through, about 40 minutes. 

Just before serving, pulse cashews in a food processor or electric coffee/spice grinder until very finely ground (do not grind to a paste). Add to curry, along with yogurt, and simmer gently, uncovered, stirring, until sauce is thickened, about 5 minutes. 

Serve chicken over rice, sprinkled with cilantro.  

Omelettes

I like my omelettes a little crisp and lacey, almost an eggy snowflake, folded over cheese and greens. With an extra grind of salt on top. 

I like the sameness of omelette making. The technique might vary, but in the end, you always get an omelette. 
Or hopefully you do. 

I talked to a friend today, I told him how much the transience of life has been scaring me lately. 
Change. 
And he looked at me and said simply, "That's the way it's always been."
He's right. 
But I can't shake the fact that most of the people I know now, I probably wont know in five years. 

Despite the aches and bruises, the same/dullness of school, that guy who never called me, the cruel thing she said, the times I cried in the shower, and all the breaking aching disappointments of growing up and living more, I love this now. 

I love these people and laughing until crying with them, the dreaminess of Friday afternoons, my neighborhood grocery store, the fact that I live above a doughnut shop, running in the quiet neighborhoods around the university, coffee shops and conversations that roll and unwind endlessly... 

These are things worth remembering. 

These are things to love. 

But five years from now it wont really matter. 
So I look forward and smile. 
Hopefully by then I'll be writing better songs and living in Brooklyn, with an apartment full of plants and twinkle lights. 
And it will be better. 

But five years from now, no matter the location, no matter who I still know, or who I am. 

I will still be making omelettes. 

They're the perfect comfort food for when you are hungry and maybe a little lonely and need a hot meal. 

Omelettes: a meal for every now and every future. 

XOXO

m

L'Omelette

from Mastering the Art of French Cooking by Julia Child

2 or 3 eggs

Big pinch of salt

Pinch of pepper

Beat the eggs and seasonings in the mixing bowl for 20 to 30 seconds until the whites and yolks are just blended.

1 tablespoon butter

An omelette pan 7 inches in diamete at the bottom

Place the butter in the pan and set over very high heat. As the butter melts, tilt the pan in all directions to film the sides. When you see that the foam has almost subsided in the pan and the butter is on the point of coloirng (indicating it's hot enough), pour in the eggs. It is of utmost importance in this method that the butter be the correct temperature.

Let the eggs settle in the pan for 2 or 3 seconds to form a film of coagulated egg in the bottom of the pan.

Giving the handle of the pan with both hands, thumbs on top, and immmediately begin jerking the pan vigorously and roughly toward you at an even, 20-degree angle over the heat, one jerk per second.

It is the sharp pull of the pan toward you which throws the eggs against the far lip of the pan, then back over its bottom surface. You must have the courage to be rough or the eggs will not loosen themselves from the bottom of the pan. After several jerks, the eggs will begin to thicken. (A filling goes in at this point, if using.)

Then increase the angle of the pan slightly, which will force the egg mass to roll over on itself with each jerk at teh far lip of the pan.

As sson as the omelette has shaped up, hold it in the angle of the pan to brown the bottom a pale golden color, but onlya second or two, for the eggs must not overcook. The center of the omelette should remina soft and creamy. If the omelette has not formed neatly, push it with the back of your fork.

Turn omelette onto a plate and rub the top witha bit of butter and serve as soon as possible.

Macaroni and Cheese and Roasted Broccoli

What College Has Given Me:



-4am
-The Smiths
-Sleeping until noon
-Ability to wear bright lipstick
-Mild  Severe coffee addiction
-Friends who are so smart and so kind
-Roommates who see me at worsts and bests and somehow still tolerate me
-Overall improvement in personal style
-More facebook friends
-Fewer real books read



-Ability to ignore mountains of homework to write this blog
-Realization that truly brilliant professors are few and far between
-Desire to be Better
-Late Night Doughnuts
-Lots  of knockout conversations
-Realization that everyone is basically the same and simultaneously very different and very weird
-Opportunity 
-Realization that just because someone is hip does not mean that they know what is actually good
-Appreciation of cheap-ass champagne
-Decreased fear of meeting new people
-Every Wes Anderson movie (other than Bottle Rocket)
-Mistakes



-Ability to use bed for studying, sleeping, eating, AND drunken jumping
-New understanding of the relationship between race and dance in America
-Twinkle lights
-Several tremendous, Vesuvius-like, emotional meltdowns
-Ability to wear a dress and heels while riding a bicycle
-Less socially awkward (kinda sorta)
-Emojis
-Sunroofs
-Coffeeshops
-Clouds



-Re-realization that life is not fair
-Letters, received and sent
-Lots of milkshakes
-Unintentional over-sharing
-Fake it till you make it

Also. 

College and cooking for myself has also instilled in me a deep appreciation for pasta.
 Specifically macaroni and cheese. 



Some days, when the daily grind begins to wear you down, all you want is macaroni and cheese. 
With some roasted broccoli. To make you feel better about all those late night doughnuts and milkshakes.


xoxo

Stovetop One Pot Macaroni and Cheese 
via whiteonericecouple.com

• 2 cups large elbow Macaroni, uncooked (about 1/2 lb)
• 2 cups low fat Milk (about 16 oz) , or more if needed
• **if more milk is needed, additional 1/4 cup milk at a time for final cooking. **Macaroni pasta varies so much! have additional milk on hand, or be ready to increase the heat if your macaroni doesn't absorb fast enough.
• 1 tablespoon Butter, for flavor
• 1/2 teaspoon Mustard powder
• 1 teaspoon Salt, plus additional for final season later
• generous dash of Nutmeg
• 1 cup Grated Cheese, any one or combination of  ( jack, cheddar, swiss, mozzarella, gouda)
• black pepper to taste (optional)

Place raw pasta in colander and quickly rinse under water. Let it drain.In medium sauce pan add milk, raw elbow macaroni, salt, butter, mustard powder and nutmeg.On medium heat, slowly bring milk/macaroni mixture to a simmer, stirring the macaroni frequently as it comes up to a simmer. Stirring keeps macaroni from clumping together, keep an eye on things to make sure that mixture doesn't boil over. Once at a simmer, immediately turn to low (too high heat will evaporate milk) pasta will cook in milk.  Continue to stir the mixture frequently so that macaroni will cook and absorb milk. Keep stirring to prevent the pasta from clumping. It's a little bit like making risotto.  Cook for 15-20 minutes or until milk has been fully absorbed.

If macaroni is not fully cooked, add some extra milk or water, and anticipate spending about five more minutes stirring the macaroni to absorb the extra liquid. Once milk has evaporated, stir in grated cheese, and throughly combine. Turn off heat. Place lid on top of pan and cover for about 5 minutes. This lets the macaroni absorb liquid. Stir a final time and salt to taste. 

Serve immediately.

Roasted Broccoli 

via amateurgormet.com

Two large bunches broccoli (about four lbs)

Lemon

4 garlic cloves

Olive oil

pinenuts (optional)

parmesan (optional)

Preheat oven to 425 F. 

Put broccoli on a cookie sheet. Toss with olive oil, salt and pepper. (She says 5 Tbs olive oil, 1 1/2 tsps kosher salt, 1/2 tsp fresh ground pepper, but I just eyeballed it.) Now add 4 garlic cloves that are peeled and sliced and toss them in too. Roast in the oven 20 to 25 minutes, until “crisp-tender and the tips of some of the florets are browned.”zest a lemon over the broccoli, squeeze the lemon juice over the broccoli, add 1 1/2 Tbs more olive oil, 3 Tbs toasted pine nuts (I left those out), and 1/3 cup of freshly grated Parmesan cheese (I left these out as well.) 

How to Be Brave With Squash

A letter to my brothers:

I miss you.

I miss your hands and your smiles and the real talk and I miss how noisy you are and how nosey you are, and even though we live in the same city, I'm living such a different life now, and I wish I could share the best bits of it with you, because I know you'd like it.



I want to tell you some stuff that has been in my head.

I want to tell you that people are awesome. That if you ask, people will tell you really magical things. That there is so much learning you can do, if you just listen. No one ever told me. 
I want to tell you that people are disappointing. That given the chance, people will disappoint you. And that this is the hardest lesson to learn. No one ever told me. 



I want to tell you that no one is actually judging you, and if they are: fuck 'em. 
I want to tell you that you should not be afraid, that whatever you are doing in this moment, is okay.
I want to tell you that sleep is really grand. 
I want to tell you to hold doors open. 
I want to tell you to stay away from users and losers. 
I want to tell you that making things is good. Even if what you make is shitty.

I want to tell you about this squash.

It was too big.

THE BIGGEST SQUASH.

I bought it with some friends at the Hope Farmer's Market. I think the name of the squash is "Marrow Squash." It was huge. As big as a medium sized pumpkin. Which is very large for a squash. 
I called it my baby. 
Which was awkward when I cut it up and roasted it and baked it into a savory tart. 



And it was really fucking good. 

Darling boys, here is what I really want to tell you. 

Be brave. Be brave. Be brave. 

Be brave in the kitchen, especially with intimidating squashes. 
Be brave with putting yourself out there. 
Be brave with friends. 
Be brave with strangers. 
Be brave enough to go to the party, and brave enough to leave when you're ready.

And as we all run into strange new worlds, in which we lose touch more easily and speak less, I just want you to know this:

If nothing else, be brave with the squash. 



XOXO

How To Be Brave With Squash

I cut my monster baby squash in half, scooped out the seeds, and rubbed the insides with olive oil, salt, pepper, paprika, red pepper flakes, dried thyme and basil. I cooked it for half an hour, at 4oo degrees, until the flesh was soft. And then, when it was cooked through, I scooped the insides out, chopped them into a soft pulp, and added more salt. Then I patted it into a soft shell of uncooked pie dough that I hadn't used yet, grated Some Very Fine Irish Cheddar Cheese over it and baked it at 375 for 30 minutes. 

It tasted good. 

I was lucky. 

I Don't Know Pasta

I have been trying to write to you for an embarrassingly long time. 


But sometimes words just do not come to me. And so I sit and I type and I write many personal things that you do not want to know about that I do not want you to know about. 


I made pasta tonight:





Understand that this is something of a feat. Lately cooking for me has been things like, making toast, pouring coffee, adding water to raspberry Emergen-C powder, and buttering/cheesing/jamming/egging/putting-a-topping on said toast. 
And even this has felt like an ungodly amount of work. 


So. Pasta made: I grated three yellow squashes, and cooked them down in butter and bacon, and added some fresh basil, and then a spoonful of pesto, because I like extra basil. And then I wanted to make a cream sauce, but we had no cream. So I added a lot of mozzarella cheese and some parmesan cheese and some freshly cut tomatoes. 


And suddenly I had a meal that was not toast. 

I keep wondering what might happen have happened. 


Would I have succumbed to another toast meal if I hadn't made pasta? Might we have gone out to eat? What if I had made cookies instead? What kind of caloric difference would there be in my day if I ate cookies for dinner instead of pasta? Would I be asleep right now if I hadn't had that coffee at 2pm? 


This is what is so tricky about being alive sometimes. 


What opportunities do you take? Which ones do you hold onto? Opportunities are like friends, sometimes you slowly welcome them into your life, other times you let them go. 
But the knowing what to do? Knowing if you should make pasta or toast? Knowing which impulse or instinct to trust? 





It's so gosh-darn-well-dammit-I-don't-understand-why-everything-has-to-be-so-fucking-difficult.  


What do you do? 

I don't know. 


The point is. 


I made pasta. 


Huzzah. 


I Don't Know Pasta


I don't know how I made this. But there is bacon and grated squash and a lot of butter and cheese and some basil and pesto and pepper and salt. And tomatoes. Open your refrigerator door and use this as an opportunity to contemplate the confusion of opportunities. 

Pasta with Creamy Tomato Sauce

Here is the true story of me and this pasta:


I just finished my freshman year of college. Talk about VICTORY. 


Talk about OH BABY I AM SO GLAD IT IS SUMMER. 


Talk about time to de-stress,time to sing really loud 100% of the time, time to go to the pool, time to dance again, time to read a real book, time to sleep in, time to work, time to contemplate and party and not think at all, time to adventure, time to clean my closet, and perhaps most important, time to eat real food again. 





As my first meal back at home, it seemed appropriate to make pasta. I'd been envisioning it for several days. I wanted to make a bowl of pasta that was thick and rich and a little heavy, the sort of bowl of pasta that would take me half an hour to eat. A bowl of pasta I could luxuriate in. The kind of pasta I would want to take a bath in. I mean, it would be a sludgey bath, but a bath, nevertheless. 


I do not believe in many things, but I believe in kindness and more than 6 hours of sleep and dessert first and indulgence and comfort food. 





And for me, comfort food is this kind of pasta. It's flavorful but not overwhelming, not exactly healthful but there are vegetables in it so you can feel mildly virtuous, and  as with most foods, it's very filling if you eat a lot of it. 


This pasta heralds the depths of summer we're about to encounter, barely hints at all the homemade pasta and fresh tomatoes and salads I plan on eating, all the watermelon that I can't wait for, all the mangos that I'm going to devour, all the pies I'm going to make. 


OH BABY I AM SO GLAD IT IS SUMMER. 


xoxo

Pasta with Tomato Cream Sauce

from ThePioneerWoman.com

I added some fresh tomatoes and bell peppers to my sauce, but ended up blending them in, because sometimes I just can't handle vegetables. I topped the pasta with some arugula, because I like it, and some more cheese. I was very happy. 

2 tablespoons olive oil

2 tablespoons butter

1 whole medium onion, finely diced

4 cloves garlic

2 cans (15 ounce each) tomato sauce

salt and pepper, to taste

1 cup heavy cream

grated parmesan cheese

1-1/2 pound fettuccine or bowtie pasta

Cook pasta according to package directions. Drain, reserving 1 cup of pasta water.

Heat butter and oil over medium heat. Add onions and garlic and saute for a minute or so. Pour in tomato sauce and add salt, pepper, and sugar to taste. Stir and cook over low heat for 25 to 30 minutes, stirring occasionally.

Remove from heat and stir in cream. Add cheese to taste, then check seasonings. Stir in pasta and chopped basil and serve immediately. (Thin with pasta water before adding basil if needed.)

Sweet and Sour Carrots

So there is this wonderful test you can do if you want to know if the music you listen to is hip or not.

You go to a Pilates studio and see if they're "playin' you jam" there. If they are the unfortunate truth is: "your jam" just isn't that hip.

For example, I'm totally loving this guy named James Morrison, who I had no idea existed till the other day, and he's some kind of British pop star, but I'D never heard of him. And I was so excited, because HEY I'M FINDING HIP NEW MUSIC. And then I passed by the Pilates studio at my dance school, and they were playing his songs and seriously, the little part of me that is truly indie/hipster/alternative wilted and died in embarrassment.

Granted, the millions of views on YouTube should probably have tipped me off.

And yes, I'm aware of the cliche idea that it's "cool" to be confident in what ever it is that lights your fire. But you have to be confident in a slightly "ironic" way to be considered "hip" so I guess I'm doomed as far as being a hipster goes, because I'm just not that ironic. BUT I STILL LOVE THIS GUY:

He is VERY earnest.

On a similar note, not too long ago someone asked me what my favorite thing to cook was. I think he expected me to say seven layer cakes or cassoulet or something, because my answer obviously dissapointed him.

I said, "I like to make eggs."

And he sneered a little and said, "My favorite thing to make is Creme Brulee."

And I thought to myself: what a pretentious little twit. Because, in case you didn't know, custards always use a lot of dishes and unless you have a serious THING for dishwashing, you're just not going to have a wild time in the kitchen.

Anyways, I really like eggs.

They are absolutely my favorite thing to cook.

So the other night, we had a very simple dinner of sunny-side-up-eggs sprinkled with sharp cheddar cheese over sweet and sour carrots with bread and a very simple salad of avocados and lettuce, tossed in vinaigrette. And it was wonderful and easy and unpretentious. And very, very good. But maybe not hip.

And I'm okay with that.

Sweet and Sour Carrots

from Italian Home Cooking by Julia Della Croce

This is the only recipe I'm including today. You can figure the rest out on your own. These carrots are excellent, they're cooked so long they become almost meaty- like sausage or something. They are very rich. And that is a very good thing. But you have to eat them with an egg on top. Because I said so. Also, I used baby carrots, because that was all I had.

About 10 carrots, or a few handfuls of baby carrots

4 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil

3 tablespoons unsalted butter

2 onions, thinly sliced (I just used one and it was more than enough)

1/4 cup sugar

1/2 teaspoon salt

2 tablespoons red wine vinegar

Peel the carrots and cut off their tops. (Or not.) Slice them in 1/4 inch rounds. (Or not.)

In a skillet, warm the olive oil and butter together. Add the onions and carrots and 1/2 cup water. Cover and allow the carrots to cook over medium heat until tender and the water is evaporated, stirring frequently, about 30 minutes. Sprinkle with the sugar, salt and vinegar. Continue to cook, uncovered, until the carrots and onions become caramelized, crisp at the edges, and cast with a mahogany sheen.

Serve at once.