Tag Cooking

Eggsactly My Point

Michael 1 Comment

I have cookbooks. Boy do I have cookbooks! I have gadgets too but that’s a post for another time. Now we’re talking  cookbooks. I have books that are classics like Betty Crocker, books by famous chefs like Mario Batali, books by famous non-chefs like Fannie Flagg, books based on TV shows like Good Eats and on movies like Casablanca (with some really cool recipes). I have books with nothing in them but meat, others with nothing but veggies, and others that are all pasta, all the time. I have fundraiser cookbooks, overpriced cookbooks, and some with more post-it notes marking more pages than Bushes have beans. You’d think somewhere in there I could find a decent recipe for hard boiled eggs.

I admit it. I can’t hard boil an egg. I can soft boil an egg. I can fry an egg, I can turn an egg over without the use of a spatula, I can poach an egg, I can even make egg salad as long as somebody else does the boiling for me. And it’s not as though I’m a dolt around a stove top. I can make a carbonara with my eyes closed. Risotto? Child’s play. But a hard boiled egg? Not so much.

I think the problem is in all those cookbooks. I have run across at least a dozen (no pun intended) recipes and quick tips for hard boiled eggs. There are the boiling methods, the simmering methods, the off the heat methods.There’s even one recipe that calls for baking the eggs to get a perfect hard boiled egg. And there is the time element. There are recipes calling for 8 to 30 minutes. One method alone claims perfect hard cooked eggs in 8,10,12,15,and 20 minutes.

I’m just going to stick with my over easy eggs. At least they aren’t hiding behind a shell to thwart your breakfast.

That’s what I think. Really. How ’bout you?

Cleanliness is next to the scrambled eggs

Michael Leave a comment

Regular readers know we like to go out to eat.  We’ve mentioned it in more than a few posts.  Usually we also mention our likes and dislikes and usually there are more likes than dislikes.  Usually.

Recently we were at a national chain family restaurant.  To hear them say it, they are the ones who invented wholesome long before your great-grandmother thought of it.  They also invented hearty, healthy, hunger-satisfying, and home-style.  Unfortunately, they didn’t invent the dishwasher.

It was a Sunday morning, late enough that most of the after church crowd had already been through but early enough that the mid-day crowd hadn’t.  We didn’t even have to wait for a seat, and once we were seated behind the faux barn rails it didn’t take much time for us to make our choices.  And although it took a bit longer than it really needed for our choices to be turned into food, they should have taken a bit longer and washed the plates.  Yep, dirty plates.  Two of them.  Both served to She of We. 

She beckoned to the waitress and expressed concern over having to eat from a dirty plate.  At this point she had only been given one of the dirty dishes.  Waitress Lady told us that we shouldn’t be too concerned.  “They’re working back there with lots of grease you know.”  The rim of the plate was clearly soiled and She of We let Waitress Lady clearly know she’d wait for a clearly clean one.  So off it went – plate 1 of 2.  (Why is it that breakfast combinations always come on two plates?)   While waiting for a new Plate #1, Plate #2 came out and Waitress Lady hustled back to the back and was soon back again with replacement Plate #1.  Back she came just as She of We was scraping along the rim of Plate #2.  More former food residue.  “Can I have this redone also please?” and off it went back to the back.

Soon, much too soon, Waitress Lady was back again with Plate #2.  “I lifted up the pancakes and it looked clean under there so I put them on a new plate for you,” and she beamed the smile of one who had discovered penicillin.  As perhaps she had.

“Thank you,” said She of We, “but I’ll wait for new pancakes.”  (Which were remarkably tasty and fluffy when finally they did appear but that’s a whole different post.)

To make a long story even longer, after more excuses about all the grease they’re cooking with back there (there was nothing about lard on the menu but Waitress Lady has us wondering), we finally got clean plates, full meals, and a check.  The check was for the table next to ours but it was a start.

As we were on our way out the young lady working the cash register asked those ominous words, how was everything, and got to hear everything.  She of We was very polite and said the food was very good but she had to wait for all of her selections because they kept coming out on dirty plates.  And everything was a bit cold.  And we got the wrong check.  And the young lady asked us to wait and the manager was soon out and expressed his concern over our concerns with an immediate discount.

And even though it was a remarkably unremarkable meal, we’ll probably go back because we’re pretty sure that the manager was on his way to see the dishwashers.  Whether they deserved it or not, he probably gave them another chance.

And so will we.  

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?

 

Bon Appetite

Michael Leave a comment

We’re used to being a day late.  We’re usually much more than a dollar short.  But we still like our food and one of the best foodies hit her milestone yesterday, even if she wasn’t around to celebrate it. 

Julia turned 100.

For many, Julia Child never died.  Neither did Lucille Ball, John Wayne, Marilyn Monroe, or Dean Martin.  As long as television reruns and movies on demand, DVDs and U-Tube, video archives and PBS are around, so will be our favorite chefs, singers, actors, and whats have you.

How often have you held this conversation in your house when you heard of the death and/or the upcoming concert of a celebrity?  “I thought he was dead already.”  We aren’t sure if it’s a good thing or not.  We go on watching cooking shows every Saturday morning never even considering how old the show might be.  It doesn’t matter if it was taped in 1967, 1987, or 2007.  Cooking doesn’t change much.  With cooking shows because the hosts are usually wearing aprons, you don’t even have the cues of fashion to narrow things down to a decade.  (Now in the real, real old ones the hair can still give it away and that rarely leaves you muttering “they don’t make ‘em like that anymore.”)  (The hair, that is.)

But they still make a few like our girl Julia.  You can probably still catch the shows with Julia and Jacques Pepin (who is a very youthful and quite alive 76) and would wonder who will out-compliment the other.  Now there are two people on television who you wish could come out of that box and make us dinner.  But we think we’d like them to do it one at a time.  We can double our pleasure that way.  

John Folse (a veritable television child at 66) could make us dinner also.   His choice of protein might be a bit unusual.  Not often do you see a television chef make goose cacciatore or squirrel with pan gravy but he does and does it in a manner that leaves you wondering “I bet that’s even good with plain old chicken.” 

John’s twists on the prizes of Louisiana leave us thinking a bit of Justin Wilson but with a more understandable accent.  There wasn’t a crawfish that Justin Wilson didn’t like and even though we aren’t sure if we like them, how could you turn down dinner and a show when the show comes in the form of the stories that made Chef Wilson the “Louisiana Original.”  You’ll still see Justin on U-Tube and hear him on radio and he would be closing in on 99 if he was still around to close in on anything.

There are some younger television chefs – yep, even younger than 60! – who we wouldn’t mind if they pulled into our driveways, knocked on the front doors, and greeted us with “Dinner’s on me tonight.”  But we’ll wait a few years before we reveal them.  There’s not as much fun in it if you can’t ask, “isn’t he dead yet?”

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?

 

Hell’s Chopped Kitchen Star

Michael Leave a comment

“I learned how to cook at my grandmother’s house who took us in after Mom and Pop died in the car wreck when the telephone pole fell on the car that first smashed them, then electrocuted them.  Grandma went to the community college to learn English so she could raise me and my 14 sisters and one brother who wore dresses a lot but could make the fluffiest soufflé.  And if I win today’s competition I’m going to take the $300,000 prize and buy her the stove she’s always wanted assuming I can still find a 1965 Amana and let her teach my children all that she taught me.  Even the autistic ones.”

We’ve been watching a lot of cooking competition shows lately.  But not the cupcake people.  We hate the cupcake people.  What they do to cupcakes you shouldn’t be allowed to put on TV.  Anyway, we’ve been watching a lot of cooking competitions and swearing off as many as we watch.  Why?  Because the competitions are becoming less of a challenge among those who can cook as they are now a contest of who has the bigger sob story.

We’ve always liked the Food Network show Chopped.  The premise of real chefs being dealt real but unusual ingredients fascinates us.  Most of these people are real working chefs and know exactly what to do when given chicken feet, dragon fruit, clove candy, and 20 minutes to make a scrumptious appetizer.  But now it’s not good enough to see 4 chefs, then 3, then 2 turn the bizarre into the palatable.  Now we have to ask what will you do with the money if you win.  Who would have ever thought that cooks had so many physically challenged children?  Or how many have an elderly parent yearning to see the homeland one last time?  Or how many are supporting their nieces and nephews?  We know what we’d say if someone asked us how we would spend a prize.  It’s found money.  We’ll blow it all on us.

Gordon Ramsey has to be the king of shock cooking.  We’ve come to if not love, appreciate Hell’s Kitchen because he’s not going to hold anything back. If you’re not cooking, you’re not contributing.  Leave now.  The little snippet interviews with the contestants are the best part of that show.  It gives each contestant a little face time with the camera and by extension, the viewer.  We hear how this person is a dolt, that person can’t boil water.  Petty gripes and foul mouths.  But then after the service they go to their sleeping areas and talk to the pictures or their kids, and parents, and partners and how much they love them, and love (sniff) being here, and really (sniff, sniff) want this (boo hoo).

Another of our favorite cooking contests also has Gordon at the forefront.  Master Chef.  This competition among home cooks has us wondering if the professionals on Hell’s Kitchen shouldn’t stop by the studio next door and get some pointers on, well, on cooking.  These non-professionals are very good at their limited challenges and usually work without complaining.  But even here we have the boo-hoo crowd sneaking in and has us wondering how far a blind cook can go in a kitchen competition with real knives, hot stoves, and open flames.

Not long ago we were watching one of the previous winners of Food Network Star whose show came on right after another previous winner.  And at that we were stuck. Both of the former winners with real shows who have now been on for what seems like years and have books and CDs and probably hats and T-shirts were winners when food was the competition and they left making a good promo up to the PR department.  This year’s finalists seem (emphasis on seem) to know their difference between a whisk and a dutch oven.  Could it be that after all the tears a cooking competition might actually be decided on cooking?  It could happen.

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?

 

Food Rules!

Michael Leave a comment

“It was some sort of curry but it needed something,” She of We was telling He of We of her supper a little earlier that evening.  It seemed to be not very memorable, but then, “but then I thought ‘I bet it will be better if I add some parmesan cheese to it’ so I did and it did.  You’re probably not supposed to add parmesan to curry.”  And that started us down the path lined with food rules.

Food should be fun to make, to serve, and to eat.  There shouldn’t be any rules.  But there are rules all over food.  Don’t add cheese to fish.  Serve red wine with red meat.  Add oil to vinegar.  Parmesan and curry don’t go together.  As far as we’re concerned there is only one food rule.  Enjoy what you eat.

Recipes are just rules lined up in numerical order.  Sometimes, recipes are so daunting and the ingredients so obscure that it’s impossible to satisfy We’s Rule of Food: Enjoy What You Eat.  The way we figure, unless you’re a restaurant and you want every crab cake to taste exactly the same or the enchilada on Tuesday to taste just like the enchilada on Saturday you don’t really need a recipe.  A guide, yes.  A formula, no. 

When we look for recipe books we look for the ones with the stories about the food and the cooks.  What was the author/chef thinking, or doing, or remembering when he or she first put those ingredients together.  How many times did the middle child serve as tester before it came out right?  What are the stories behind the food?  How your grandmother taught you to spot the freshest chicken is a much more interesting tale than how much chicken to bone for the lemon chicken salad.  If we like the story, we’ll try the food.  And if we don’t like the food, we’ll at least have read a good story.

Food rules (the noun) have no place in your kitchen.  Food rules (the verb) is what makes a kitchen. 

Food Rules!  We like that.

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?