Tag Archives: cooking

Kitchen Semantics

In cooking schools and in life, in a kitchen one knows to say “behind” or “hot behind” to keep a fellow cook from getting hurt or ruining your sauce.

One person on a cooking show I saw recently yelled “MOVE!!!” That is the antithesis of “behind.”

Behind lets one’s colleagues, competitors in this case, know that you’re running behind them with a new ingredient and not to step back. “Move” is a hostile comment that will get you pummeled by your fellow cooks a block away until you agree to an attitude adjustment.

The French brigade is legendary and how many chefs (see Ratatouille, based on Thomas Keller’s The French Laundry restaurant) are in the kitchen. There are rules. If one is washing dishes and dreaming of being on the line, behavior matters. So do tattoos (I don’t have any) but that’s another issue.

No matter what your career path, respect your elders and co-workers and people who work for you. No-one can ever go wrong with that philosophy. Everyone has their own job to do. Now MOVE, people, I’m coming through! No, in Italian it is “permesso.” Would you permit me to pass? I like that language better than MOVE! Cheers, too quiet around here and awaiting husband at midnight. Dee and Zoe

Timing

It is everything. Just as with a restaurant it’s location, location, location. Growing up, marrying, having kids in the right school district.

When it comes to cooking for guests, I’ve somewhat of a complicated menu. Simple, really, not seven courses or anything made for an international competition. But I time it. It includes a time for “turn oven to 350.”

I go back from serving time on a sheet of paper from when guests arrive to drinks, appetizers, seating, dinner, salad, dessert, coffee or tea. I bring it back to the roast and its accoutrements, everything in five minute intervals.

I like that it’s both old school and kind of strange and don’t do it for dinner with my husband, that’s just in my head. With guests everything has to be perfect, the menu and execution and friendship. Just a thought. Dee

ps People ask if I cook this way every night for my husband and he says, enthusiastically, “Yes!” Then they say he is a lucky man. I can only do it in my head because it just comes from the heart, and not after a day of cleaning the house and ironing the napkins and getting flowers and prepping and cooking and figuring out what to wear. Yes, for family meals I plan menus in my head as well, usually while walking through a good grocery store and seeing what’s fresh and knowing how to make the most of it, like garlic scapes, all fresh fruits and veg then to the butcher and afterwards, round it out. D

Compliments

We have people here who make our lives easier and more safe. I don’t believe they make much money for this duty, so when I’ve more than we can eat I often make a plate at night or cook something for the whole crew by day.

Last night the plate was grilled ribeye with a compound butter inspired by the herb garden I inspired! With scallion, basil, thyme, parsley and a bit of lime juice. I chopped and mixed the herbs, lime and butter and rolled it into a log in wax paper. Just twist the ends. Take off as much as you need at a time. After I used two medallions I just twisted it back up and placed it in the freezer.

I served it with simple scalloped potatoes, two russets peeled and sliced with heavy cream, salt and pepper (butter only if I make them with 2% milk). Also, a jicama and heirloom carrot grated slaw with lime juice and a bit of roasted poblano chile that was toasted on an open gas flame in the kitchen.

My husband leaves at noon today but will be home mid-week and work from here. It’s a blessing to have him home, but not 24/7. And I love cooking for him.

For the gent who received last night’s plate, he asked my husband “do you always eat like this?” He said yes. “You’re a lucky man.” For some reason, the simple, tasty food I make is miraculous to some.

I could never compete on a cooking show but love Top Chef and Top Chef Masters, and even Chopped when master chefs and judges are at bat.

In college I once made brownies from scratch for my roommates and several asked how I could do that because theirs were always from a box. Then I was awarded the title of “chef” because no-one could cook. I figured I’d never have to set the table, wash a dish or shop. Wrong on the last one. I sent them to find a 50# bag of potatoes and they said cans were on sale for $.20 apiece.

NOOOOOOO! I’d never had a canned potato in my life. I had five roomies and often there were several more for dinner so I cooked for an army, usually 12. Mostly healthy, inexpensive meals from scratch so after their first foray to the store Aunt Dee made a list and pushed the cart while they “fetched” what our $120/wk. grocery budget would buy. If a few dollars left, we could get ice cream.

One dish I remember from my mother. I must have changed it and haven’t made it in years. It’s just pasta with ground beef and onions, canned tomatoes and my roomies loved it and couldn’t believe it was not out of a box.

We had cheap pots and pans from the college apartment but I made do. And I only masterminded the meals, shopped the outside aisles except for rice and tomato sauce, and never set the table or washed a dish.

The only difference years later is that I want the freshest ingredients possible, do not usually have a master list, shop alone, have a pantry full of great herbs, spices, oils, vinegars, soy sauces, and many other ingredients I never would have gotten my hands on (especially Italian OO flour for my pizza dough) back then.

We have a “tech center” next to the kitchen. It looks at a blank wall. We have a wonderful view. I placed my desk by the view and we used the blank space for a huge open pantry. It’s organized by sweet, savory and other stuff and even has a power strip for a spice grinder and a molcajete for grinding stuff.

Once I asked how much to tip the staff here over the holidays and was told, “Don’t you feed them all the time? That’s more than enough!” These folks watch over me when my husband is away, if I have to take the dog out in the middle of the night. Nobody cooks, don’t worry, Aunt Dee is here. Cheers! Dee

Potato Salad

Yesterday, I gave an employee here some potato salad, and a shaved salad of cucumber and carrot with a light vinaigrette. He said he always wanted to know how to make potato salad.

I couldn’t believe that an adult, male or female, does not know how to make a potato salad and this is disturbing… until I realized that my husband knows how to make toast but not how to make a grilled cheese sandwich, or potato salad. When I first made him a tasty potato salad years ago, he said potato salad is only for funerals! It made him feel sad.

I’m going to make a pretty plain potato salad tonight because I boiled un-peeled Yukon Gold potatoes yesterday. If I were to dress them up I’d add a chopped scallion, two slices of cooked bacon, crumbled, 1/2 of a red pepper, charred, peeled and seeded. Perhaps some ancho chile powder and celery seed. That’s just how I’m feeling today. Some folks use pickles and hard-cooked eggs and miracle whip. I am not of that school. Talk to me tomorrow and I may have some new ideas. Right now it’s just salt, pepper, mayo and scallions.

Today I was introduced to (haven’t tasted yet) a local version of a French hard apple cider. I added some fresh sage and rosemary and dried thyme, salt and pepper and drowned two pork tenderloins in the hard cider to marinate.

I found gorgeous Saturn peaches and will make a peach, honey, chili and rosemary glaze to crust the pork. Also said potato salad and a green salad with my husband’s favorite, ranch dressing. Please. A hundred vinaigrettes come to mind and he wants bottled dressing. Last night he slightly overcooked two NY strip steaks, breaking in the new grill brush (what we need is a new grill). Then after I seasoned it perfectly he went to the frig and placed ketchup on his plate.

Luckily our old dog has taught me to perfect “the stare” that has served her so well in life. I gave it and he said, “I don’t plan to use the ketchup.” I even made a maitre d’hotel butter for the top and he chose ketchup. Why are we married? So I could create a food snob/snubber of haute cuisine?

No-one, including him, puts ketchup on Dee’s steak. The next morning, with leftover steak & eggs, he can use a steak sauce. That’s the way it is in Dee’s kitchen. How about yours? Dee

Preserving

My husband just got me a new hard drive and it messed some things up, sorry!

I remember when I first got bay leaves off a tree in Northern California. It was a revelation. Nowhere near there now, once a year I find fresh bay leaves at the market, rinse and thoroughly dry them, bag and freeze them. They’re so much better than dried bay leaves.

In addition, with the reboot/computer overhaul today I found a photo of my father and I, I was about five months old, given I was born in November and we were picnicking in short sleeves (ok, I was in a onesy and not standing).

Dad was seated behind me on the blanket and was making sure I was safe by having his arms around me, yet a dog came up to me and I had my arms out to pet the dog and he let me reach out and connect.

All my life I’ve always reached out to people, dogs, cats, anyone in need. I just didn’t know until today when it started. I thank my Dad so much for keeping me safe and letting me go. This is about preserving memories, Dee

How We Remember

I remember things by aromas such as bacon cooking, Mom’s Viennese Chocolate Pecan Torte we got for birthdays (still don’t have the recipe), cookies and stews.

Tastes, like your first cassoulet. Or beef carbonnade. I can’t even tell you except to say that whatever I tasted raised my expectations and made me want to cook. No, not in my Easy Bake oven. That was used twice and placed in the trash.

Hearing a steak cook is a memory in itself. I know how to prepare it and my husband mainly knows how to cook it, overcooked is bad.

Seeing a completed dish on a plate or plated family-style is always a treat. So is MYOP night where I teach kids to make and dress their own pizza’s starting with dough I made in advance and they make more to take home. I do remember cooking a leg of lamb, roasted potatoes and green beans for my mother’s family many years ago. I dressed the beans too early and they turned grey but that’s just a lesson in my lexicon.

I was asked at school what was the best chef’s tool and said knives but was told hands. I beg to differ. I cook with my heart. Every day. Dee

Guy Questions

Number One.

Twice in the past three years I’ve scraped a post with the old car I love, in our very tiny underground garage. Less than 1 mph, first was a guy racing up on his cell phone. Second was a neighbor waving hello while walking into said garage.

Both times my husband and any male friend I saw asked two questions. Are you OK? Is the post OK? No woman would ever have asked that second question. They would have asked about the car, not the post.

Number Two.

Hugging. Kissing male friends and relatives. You never know to do the French single or double cheek or just hug. I’m sorry but if the man has to ask you on a date or to marry, he should decide and move in. Otherwise it’s awkward.

And Finally, Three.

No, you’re wrong. He always puts down the toilet seat so I won’t fall in. Gotcha! I’m certain he never did that before he met me.

Aside from spilling many Dr. Peppers, waters and others and only coming into “my” kitchen for ice and beverages I would like to not just cook for him, I’d like us to have the time to make a meal together once or twice a year. We may start with pizza with OO Italian flour, of course I have it. Friday night is pizza night.

Texas chili, my version of Lady Bird Johnson’s chili she served on the Pedernales ranch to 5,000 guests including JFK in 1962 is an option. It was the most requested document from the White House until JFK’s death. We could do that with cornbread and a salad. Dessert, well, we’ll talk about that. If his mother was visiting I’m sure she’d take care of it!

I love him dearly and while he’s not military, I feel for those younger wives who are alone for so long with young kids. My husband has been gone seven months and is back at least for a few days and we just have a dog. A spoiled dog at that.

This post is dedicated to the Americans who serve our nation and the families who miss them. Dee

 

Mis En Place

I learned several key things in cooking school besides how to buy a knife and that my hands (I added my brain) are the best tools.

From when I was a little kid I would always place everything out before I started to make something, years before Julia Child and mis en place. Asian food, you’ve ginger, garlic, soy, mirin, hot peppers…… The bowl was in the middle and my mother said I always used every dish in the kitchen! Good thing is that the cook didn’t have to do dishes!

I learned to shop the outer rim of the grocery store from produce to fish to meat, dairy, cheeses and only go inside for things like chicken broth, rice, pasta, canned tomatoes. Herbal tea, of course, and extra-virgin olive oil. The dog still doesn’t like it when I steal from her chicken broth stash, 1/4 cup for a sauce. Luckily she forgives me as I do feed her as her Food Wench.

Sometimes I wish I was more religious about packing/unpacking boxes and preparing for a move. My life has revolved around change and some day I’d like to settle in for a while and actually have a home. I’m more disciplined in the kitchen with mis en place.

There are these small dishes in which I can place soy sauce and horseradish paste in which to dip sushi. Sometimes they’re used for spices and I wash the dishes by hand. Yes, I’m chief cook and bottle washer here, including dog feeder and waterer and walker.

As a kid, I and my younger sister used to try to make breakfast in bed for our parents. It never worked, they always put on their robes and walked into the kitchen. That’s probably because Mom bought the can of pastries so kind of knew what we were up to. Cinnamon or Orange, usually both. We were only eight and six then but were allowed to turn on the oven and perhaps even allowed to scramble eggs. Toaster was a no-brainer.

I don’t remember when I was old enough to use a knife. Probably eight. I do remember when my little brother, age three, stuck a screwdriver into an electrical socket and got the shock of his life. And when my sister showed off by demonstrating that our neighbors’ fence was harmless. It was “hot” at the time. They both learned lessons back then but it didn’t stop my brother from climbing up to a 30′ TV tower. I bet the view was gorgeous! He’s a great cook and so are my sisters, and they bake.

Cooking school was more of a way to get out of corporate America using my life savings. It taught me a lot more about myself and my passion for caring for both people and shelter animals. Today, I do just that. Cheers to you, Dee

 

When at First…

you don’t succeed try, try again. I find it amazing that I ever learned how to cook, went to cooking school, have the recipe collection I consult regularly and write a “foodie” blog and contribute to other sites.

Back in the day my parents gave me an EZ-Bake Oven, yes, the one that cooks with a 120 watt light bulb. There were probably three packets included (what a scam) and the first I chose was pretzels. I ended up with dough-encrusted hands and nothing to show for my efforts. Had I known to add more flour because it may have been humid that day or their measurements were off, I would have corrected the situation. But I was probably six years old.

I never made pretzels again, nor do I wish to do so. But I tried again and after two times with the infernal light bulb machine I graduated, well before age ten, to the real oven and stove.

In college my mother got her first Cuisinart and I looked at Jean Anderson’s recipe for pizza dough and have refined it over 30 years in regard to proportions of dry to wet ingredients, amounts of flour, type of flour (now I only use Italian 00) and judge the amount of water by atmosphere and altitude. Three feet above sea level is much different than 6,400 feet and one must roll with the punches.

These days, I would get a stool with rails and bring an interested child up to counter level and let them do what they were able to do. Stir a batter, taste a Bolognese sauce, measure for a roux, butter and flour a pan for his sister’s birthday cake.

A while ago a family came to visit and we had MYOP (make your own pizza) night where every family member got to roll out their own dough and top it with any of about 18 ingredients I’d also prepped beforehand. The older child wanted plain cheese pizza but the three year-old wanted olives, caramelized onions and garlic. And anchovies. There’s the kid who doesn’t need (sorry) the Fischer-Price toy kitchen, but needs to learn from the source or if her school has a program, use it. Her palate is very sophisticated for a now four year-old. Place her in a school garden program and she’ll go places.

Many things happened at age eight as I went to the library every weekend and learned the importance of reading, kept one book longer than I should have, costing $.31 of my $.50 allowance but my parents bought Betty Crocker’s Boys and Girls Cookbook a few weeks later for my 8th birthday.

I learned to leave unnecessary appliances off the counter (like E-Z Bake) and learn the real stuff, how to host parties – my younger brother had theme parties pre-Kindergarten I organized based on royalty (the Castle cake) and Pirates.

No matter how many culinary errors were made I kept at it and even quit the NYC rat race to spend my life savings on cooking school. Now I cook at home and my husband credits me for making him a “food snob.” When I met him he was living in a man cave with only a 72 oz. Dr. Pepper and individually wrapped string cheese in his frig, with cheese wrappers littering the carpet between the frig and his computer. Now he opines about the difference in mature cheddars.

I kept at it and never gave up. I don’t bake as my siblings are great at that. I cook with my heart and soul and make dishes to make people happy and enjoy good company. I made chicken skewers tonight (hubby grilled them) but the marinade is a mystery to me as I just tossed things in. It was really good, chicken with pineapple, tomato (I had a couple on hand), scallions. Indonesian soy sauce, mirin, a few drops of sesame oil, scallion tops, grated garlic and ginger. Served over Israeli couscous. Good stuff. If I try it a couple more times I might send a recipe along. Oh, you can get sweet soy sauce on Amazon. Amazonazingly,Dee

Mistakes

First of all, never try a new dish for a dinner party. I haven’t made that mistake for a very long time. My rule was always to try a recipe first (unless I make one up, and I try it first as well) as written.

Now I had this surprise dish that turned out to be OK, not great, for my Texan husband. The butchers had to talk to each other to figure out the best cut of meat for the Chicken Fried Steak. I ended up with top round (on sale) and hit it with the heavy flat pounder before messing it up with the Medieval cruncher.

My mistakes were: substituting rice flour for regular, but the seasonings of garlic powder, ancho chili powder, salt & lots of pepper were spot on; substituting buttermilk for milk; and not using eggs. The batter just didn’t adhere as it should.

Sometimes I think cooking allows one to make mistakes. I know that whatever I make will taste good, it just may not look perfect. Neither do I, so for 13 years I’ve had a “guinea pig” husband to try things out. Yes, he’s gone from man caves with one frozen dinner (from his mother) and a 72 oz. Dr. Pepper and individually wrapped string cheese with wrappers going from the frig to his computer, which he made from scratch of course. The computer, not the cheese.

Now he critiques everything I do in the kitchen and even helps out sometimes. Don’t worry, I always set him up with everything on the other side of the island. That’s why we always have to have an island, and comfy stools to sit on. But as a string cheese maven, he now opines on 4-5 year cheddars and says I made him a food snob.

The good things about the night’s dinner were my first milk gravy, which is really just a bechamel sauce with lots of freshly ground pepper. My mashed potatoes were terrific. And I decided to saute the baby arugula in olive oil with chopped garlic. I loved it. He called it a bit “stout” in flavor. At least we had some green on the plate and I tried the steak but the potatoes and veg and sauce were my game.

Thank you Ree and Trisha, for giving me Southern inspiration for my Texas guy. Tomorrow I’ll turn Trisha’s biscuits that I messed up a bit into gold. I’ll halve and toast them, cook up some sausages, make eggs and I made a whole extra cup of gravy that awaits re-heating.

What cowboy doesn’t like biscuits and gravy? Dee