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Can’t live without summer love Thursday

June 13, 2013 by Edlyn

The title of this post was going to be something so pretentious. I am so glad I cannot be such a fluffy pie snobby penguin sometimes. I would have no idea what to do with myself. One side of me would say things written by the Queen of England herself and then the other would jump out of a tree like Robin Hood and roll her eyes in sloooowwww-motion. Everybody would need to see this. The eye roll, I mean. It would be a spectacle. As for me, I’d contend with being somewhat of an enigma.

What I’m trying to say right now is also an enigma. Pretentious. YES. It’s all coming back to me now. Made you think of the Celine Dion song.

This past Sunday I made a grown-up decision to finally walk through a (here it comes) farmer’s market in Seattle. The walking through required prior bus-hopping and subsequent hill climbing. Such is this pretty city that was once full of shit. ATTENTION: THIS IS NOT A GRIPE. It was a good choice considering marital life partner numero 1 was going to be doing taxes and I was happy to stand back and give him breathing room. “Take as much room as you need marital life partner numero 1. I just need to go over here for jusssst a sec…BYE.”

Seattle has seven..count it…seven such markets and in the course of my wandering/walking/getting stranded this past year, I’ve slowly learnt what goes where. Cities are totally my thing. I love how you can never look lost because people mostly don’t give a crap. You can wear the strangest clothes, smell like a sewer, not comb your hair, forget your umbrella and before somebody realises how “unfit for consumption” you are, you’re just another face. Maybe they’ll go home and tell their cat about it or you’ll just fade away in another “let’s meet for Happy Hour”. Magical words.

I found the Broadway market through various connections I made in my head about where it could be. It was perfect! Lots of summer manifested itself into food from the earth, making me nod my head in approval. Something about a piece of land enveloped by concrete, with its inhabitants fawning over squash and strawberries on the streets makes me wonder why it’s not always this way. Let’s tear it all down and only take what we deserve. We could all be happy everyday of the week and not just on *insert odd day of the week and time I’m never going to remember here*. Food would be free. Nothing fancy. We would never have to say “farmer’s market” or memorise the schedule ever again!

That and I won’t have to feel like I’m being snooty pants. I’m really not. Local plants are just delicious.

Summer squash soup with parsley pesto

I have a recipe for vegetable stock on this blog but I didn’t use it in this recipe. Reason? Convenience mostly. What I did was put 1 onion, 1 tomato, 4 cloves of garlic, 1 potato and 3 stalks of rosemary along with salt and pepper in 3 cups of water. My take on a vegetable stock, if you want to call it that. I really wanted to make this soup and these were the ingredients that I had with me. Might as well, right?

Ingredients

3 cups vegetable stock
2 cups summer squash, cut into cubes
1 cup wild onions, trim most of the green part. Just use about 1/2 and inch of it with the bulb. Red or white onions will work just as well.
1 cup potatoes, cubed. I used Yukon Gold
2 cloves garlic, chopped roughly
Salt and pepper to taste
Parsley pesto to garnish (In the recipe from last Thursday)
Olive oil

Dial your stove to medium heat and put a soup pot on it. To the pot, add some olive oil. You will need enough to saute the onions. Swirl the oil around and once it’s hot, add the onions and garlic to it. Cook till the onions are soft. Add the potato and squash and coat them well with the onions, stirring for just a minute. Next add the stock and bring it to a boil. Once it hits the boiling point, reduce the heat and let it simmer with the lid closed. Make sure it’s constantly simmering until the squash and potato turn soft. Once this happens, take off the heat and let it cool.

Bring out the food processor and in 2 batches, blend the squash till it turns into a smooth puree. You can also leave it slightly chunky if you prefer it that way. Once it’s all done, pour the soup back into the pot and heat it up to simmer. Taste for salt and add more or less or nothing accordingly. As soon as you notice the soup starting to bubble, take it off the stove. It’s ready.

Serve it up into a bowl and stir in some parsley pesto and croutons. Season with pepper and enjoy the summer in a bowl.

Let me be your teacher.

March 28, 2013 by Edlyn

Promising people (chocolate) cake does not get you internships. Or work. Whatever. This is all you need to know about the real world. It’s a sham but if you’re reading this, together we can change the world.

Next time, I will promise beer too.

Can’t live without butter, garlic, rum Thursday

March 7, 2013 by Edlyn

No, no, no. I checked with myself before I typed that title and I say I’m not going overboard. There is nothing grand about that title. I’m diving right into life with this one. It’s about time I did too. I owe it to my friend.

Rudra (whom I wrote about waaaaay back in the far reaches of last month) and I had another one of our meetings in Bangalore in 2011. A big part of me wishes it was in 2012 so I didn’t have to feel it was so long ago. I loved that trip. I was there for a concert and for the rest of the days, I planted my muddy feet at his and his friends’ flat in New-Thippasandra. As the perfect friend, he took me to all the best places to eat in Bangalore, me sitting at the back of his bike. By best, I don’t mean fancy and by that I mean the food was extra loved.

The one fancy restaurant we went to, we waited forever for our food. It was a few hours before I had to catch my plane back. To say I was cutting it close would be an understatement if you knew how far the airport was. At the restaurant, they had a basket of bread and some fancy butters on the side. One of them was the garlic butter and we both liked that the most. Me being the sometimes show off that I am told him how easy it would be to make. I had never even tried it before but he held me to it. After all the food he led me to in Bangalore, I had to.

I love the way Rudra loves Bangalore; mostly from behind the camera. He’s a quiet person..I am too. We don’t talk TALK much but when we do, I sense his joy living the city as much as his pain looking at the monstrous change it’s going through. He never brags about his work but I love every single picture he makes. He’s one of those people that will stick a camera right at you and you wouldn’t even notice he’s there. He’s at home one day, Bangladesh the next and who knows where else. My cat Bidli got to travel and give me 2 small heart attacks because of him. I still like you Rudra Rakshit Sharan.

I like you so much that I sat and wrote down a garlic butter recipe for you. And because I made you wait so long, I threw in a rum butter recipe too.

Garlic butter + Rum butter

I’ll start with the Garlic butter because it’s been 2 years and I could live without the guilt that we’re going to have another one of these chats.

Ingredients

1 head of garlic
1 stick of unsalted butter, softened (If I break it down, that makes 7 tbsp for the garlic butter and 1 tbsp for roasting the garlic)
Sea salt to taste

Heat the oven to 400 degrees F.

Cut off the top of the head of garlic. I was confused about which side was the “top” so I went with cutting the pointy side (the side opposite the “brown cap”). It was easier to cut and also easy to let the garlic “sit” in the oven without toppling over. I can’t believe I had that question in my mind to begin with. My brain sometimes…geez.

Now when you cut it, you’ll notice that not all the garlic cloves on the side will have their tops exposed. You’ll need to individually cut these off so the butter seeps through. Don’t hesitate to peel off some of the flaky skin if it obstructs the cutting process. Just make sure you don’t completely peel them so the butter doesn’t just slide off. You want the garlic to roast with the butter.

Once this is done, line a ramekin or a baking dish of your choice with foil and place the garlic head within. Take a tbsp of butter and place it on the head of the garlic. Break it up a bit so it gets to all the cloves. Cover them up with the foil and roast for 45 minutes to an hour.

The garlic should look like this.

Let it cool for a bit and then pick out the mushy garlic from its skin with a fork or fine knife. Place it in a bowl and mash it into a paste.

In another bowl, whip the butter with a spoon until it’s smooth. Add the roast garlic paste to the butter and mix well. So fragrant. Can’t handle it.

Don’t forget to add the salt for taste. Put the butter in some parchment paper, fold and store in the fridge. You can spread it on bread or even use it to roast veggies or meats as you prefer.

Rum butter

Ingredients

4 tbsp dark rum (I used Captain Morgan Spiced Rum but I wish I could’ve used Old Monk. Indians please represent.)
1 stick of softened unsalted butter
6 tbsp brown sugar (I used sugar in the raw because I wanted crunch in my butter. But if you want smoother butter, use muscovado or brown sugar)

Pour the rum into the butter and mix well.

Add the sugar to the mixture and mix it with a hand blender for about 5 minutes. It breaks down the sugar slightly and make the butter easier to spread.

Place the butter in parchment paper and refrigerate until you’re ready to party with pastry in the AM.

Or not.

I’ll go now.

Before Rudra pretends he doesn’t know me.

Red pepper and goat cheese frittata (sort of)

March 3, 2013 by Edlyn

Stick to the Sunday program, dude.

I am. I am.

I woke up in the way I want to wake up everyday: To the sun. The blinds were closed but I knew it was there. My roomie and I knew we had to put breakfast of hold. You don’t ignore the sun in these parts.

We took the dogs and our lazy selves for a long walk and then had short playtime, which was interrupted by a black cat. More than other cat colours, black cats don’t give a shit about you or your smelly puppies. Dogs of every other shade, colour or size however, make up for that deficiency. How? They chase them. If you don’t want your dog to get run over, you chase back.

It’s a slightly inconvenient but we do what we do…for love or something.

When we got home, I remembered I made crepe batter. Too much crepe batter. So much crepe batter that it was interfering with my eggs on a Sunday. Gah.

And you know what I did? I made them anyway. In 10 seconds. So I could eat crepes with my roommate, shoo away dogs, AND get the goat cheese out of its case without my life falling apart.

Typical Sunday morning.

Red pepper and goat cheese frittata

You’ll need 2 eggs, half of a half of red pepper, chopped, (I could’ve just said quarter), 2 tbsp of chopped red onion and some goat cheese to sprinkle on the top.

Set your oven to broil. In the real world, that’s 500 degrees F. Our oven doesn’t know what that means. It goes up to 450 degrees F and decides it’s not worth the trouble. My scrapyard threats have stopped working.

Break the eggs into a bowl and whip them with a dash of salt and pepper.

Cook the onions and red pepper in a frying pan with oil until the onions get soft. It should take about 2 minutes. Once this step is done, pour the eggs into the frying pan and cook them for 3 minutes, constantly stirring so they don’t set. They need to be only partially cooked.

Since I don’t own a skillet I can put in the oven, I had to transfer the eggs to a ramekin. I topped it with goat cheese and cooked it for 6 minutes in the 450 degree F oven. Your eggs will be done once they puff up slightly and turn golden on the top. Let it cook and serve with chopped chives as garnish.

Or don’t.

I’m clearly not one for rules.

Now can you guess where the oven gets it from?

Poached eggs on parmesan potato hash + A chocolate box

February 24, 2013 by Edlyn

Hi Gayle, (My youngest sister who actually knows how to cook and doesn’t pretend like me.)

I made poached eggs! Do you remember when you’d say, “Make! It’s so easy” or something like that? I don’t either but every time I make poached eggs, I think of you for some reason. It’s not the first way I choose to cook my eggs because my eyes are usually blind when I wake up. I’m not saying they’re difficult to make either BUT it involved a bit more than a simple scramble and putting effort into anything food-related makes me think of you.

L’aubergines also remind me of you.

I’m not even close to you in cooking skill level. You’re a lot more stubborn when you cook, choosing to break rules and not use measuring spoons. I can’t ever tell if that’s a good thing of a bad one but as soon as we get to taste it, all doubts are put to rest. BECAUSE IT’S FREAKIN GOOD. Duh.

You’re only 22. At that point in my life, I was working at a silly newspaper. Before that I was deciding whether I should have 1 or 2 vada pavs from the canteen. I usually went with one plain vada and one complete vada pav. At 20, you laid the foundation of your own home business, designed a logo, made chocolates and went out and learnt skills that will help you be the best at your craft. You see what I’m trying to say here?

I know you feel like nobody takes you seriously at home. It’s mostly true. It’s not your fault nobody can see beyond your unruly hair that you have combed since Roma left. It’s also not your fault you were born last and mama and D love having you around more than acceptable parental levels (haha). The part that I (and I hope everybody else) take seriously more than anything is your talent. Yes, you are lazy (sorry) but when you’re at work, you’re every thing a future chef is supposed to be. You may not be able to prove that you’re 22, when you’re forever 6 but it gets a bit easier to let go when we see your passion. We’re proud.

You need to keep doing this. There’s a reason that I see your face in ever corner bakery I walk past. You’ll be the owner and maybe you’ll let me wash the dishes and make good chai. You’ll call it “Little Chocolate Box” (OBVEEESILIOUSLY) and you’ll be the happiest when you go to bed because you’re living your dream.

I am happy for you, I really am.

Now shut up and eat these eggs. And don’t wear my clothes. I’ll check when I come home, 9 months from now.

Poached eggs on parmesan potato hash

Err..how did I make thiiiss…..Oh yes. This was enough for 2 people.

For the parmesan potato hash, I used 1 potato, grated parmesan (go nuts…or not), salt and pepper.

I grated the potatoes on a cheese grater and drained then of the starchy water with a cheesecloth. It actually quite a pretty sight. I added grated parmesan, salt and pepper to the potatoes and fried them in a lightly buttered pan. Form the potato mix into a ball and flatten it on the pan. Cook on one side till it brown like in the picture and then flip it over. Repeat the browning process and set on a plate.

I used 2 eggs and poached them one at a time. I let a pot of water come to a boil. I then added a little salt and a tablespoon of vinegar to the water. I reduced the heat so the water would be set to a simmer. I broke 1 of the eggs into a cup and gently placed it into the water. I cooked it for 4 minutes because I like my poached eggs to be a little runny as well as a little firm. If you want the egg to be more undercooked, leave it in only for two minutes. You’ll have to use your kitchen judgement to get the egg cooked the way YOU want it. Take it out of the water and place them on a paper towel to dry off. Repeat with the other egg.

Place the eggs over the potato hash. Crack a bit of pepper, add some salt, toast some bread (butter it) and eat.

Gayle, why aren’t you eating?! Oh wait, you’re not here. Whatever man. More for me.

“Can’t live without” Pasta Thursday

February 21, 2013 by Edlyn

What am I doing right now?
Taking note of the time. It’s 5.51 pm
Why?
There are approximately 7 (is that right?) hours left for Thursday to end and scatter-brain McGee just realized that she forgot her silly “Can’t Live Without” post.
Scatter-brain?
That would be me.

I should give myself a reward for even remembering. I’d like to say I was sailing on Lake Union past Tom Hanks’ house in Sleepless in Seattle (swoon) but I was doing something even more glamorous. I was making running food to feed my quarter-life crisis. I’ll explain later.

As badly as I want to take a nap right now, this can’t-live-without dinner is too perfect not to share. I make it with my eyes closed. I practiced so many other cooler lines to describe its sex appeal (say whaa) but as usual, I forgot to write them down.

Since I’m in the last-minute spirit, let me try remembering:
This pasta sauce is the next Pope.
No.
This pasta sauce can have my hand in marriage.
Weaaaak.
I love this pasta sauce so much, I set it free. In my mouth.
Stop me right now.

I failed, I know. But I also win. After, this Thursday, your socks will never be the same. Because they will have been rocked to the ends of the earth.

Welcome.

Spaghetti in grape tomato sauce

Ingredients

Spaghetti (or any other pasta) serving for 2 cooked according to the instructions
1 whole box grape (or cherry) tomatoes. Mine was a pint (16 oz).
4 cloves garlic
2 tbsp olive oil (add more if you like your sauce to be oilier)
1/2 tsp coarse salt
Some freshly cracked pepper
Dried basil (this is optional)
Parmesan cheese, freshly grated (not optional)

The first time I made this, I messed it up badly. Despite it all, I knew I had something special in the mess I made. Since it’s so easy to put together, I didn’t tear my hair out about trying it again. So I did. Over and over and over again.

Heat the oven to 350 degrees F. Line a shallow baking tray or dish with aluminium foil and place all the tomatoes you own in it. Smash the garlic cloves with the back of a knife, peel and cut them in half. Don’t worry about cutting it more than this because it’s just going to get blended into a sauce. Place the smashed cloves around the tomatoes. Sprinkle the salt, pepper and olive oil over and marvel at your handiwork.

That’s what I always do.

Make a little cocoon with the foil without covering the tomatoes completely. Do you understand what I’m trying to say? Sometimes I’m confusing. Pop it in the oven for 40 minutes.

If you’ve played all your cards right, and you’ve haven’t passed out from the joyous aromas coming from your kitchen, this is how the tomatoes should look.

I’m so excited that my favourite part is coming up. And calm. But soooooo excited.

Put all of this oven roasted happiness (including the juices that have oozed out) into a blender and press go.

(Favourite part) Look down.

Once it’s all blended into a smooth sauce, pour it over the spaghetti. Allllllllllll of it. Grate parmesan cheese over it and pounce.

Juicy little things doing wonderful deeds for the benefit of mankind, I bow to thee.

You love the drama, admit it.

Trying to stay Goan.

February 20, 2013 by Edlyn

(looks for Red Bull. realises she doesn’t drink Red Bull. hands in the air like you just don’t care)

Either I needed a mighty boost of confidence for writing this recipe or I earned one after trying it myself. I cannot decide the tone I want to go for. My mother might roll her eyes at me as mother’s all do but I won’t be there to see it. I’m a thousand miles away from the land I call home. The sun’s on my side and my family is unmistakably tucking into afternoon leftovers and bread.

I’m the one who should be rolling my eyes or throwing a tantrum at my proximity to a home cooked meal. But hell, I got some skills. I can cook stuff up to. Yes, this is what I usually do. My need for a particular taste is not always in sync with Indian Standard Time. While I prefer my mother snapping a picture of a recipe from that famous blue book (if you’re Goan, you’ll know), I don’t always get my way. Especially if it’s 1.30 am.

The Internet is not always friendly too. If only all the world’s problems could be cured by the #1 most annoying search engine result allrecipes.com. Alas, it sucks. If you don’t know any better, more so.

So I did what I do best. I shut my eyes and imagined everything as it was in my family’s kitchen.

And then, this happened.

Ingredients

30 gms cilantro (or 1 American sized bunch)
50 gms coconut
1/2 small onion
2 cloves garlic
1 tsp ginger, grated
1 green chili, chopped (I used a Serrano pepper)
2 tbsp lemon juice
1/2 tsp sugar
1/4 tsp cumin powder
1 1/2 tbsp oil (I used peanut oil)
2 tsp mustard seeds
Salt to taste

That’s all we have for today, folks. See ya next week!

Okay since you’re arm-twisting, here’s what I got for you.

Apart from the oil and mustard seeds, place all the ingredients into a blender. Fun, right? Add 2 tbsp of water to the mix and blend. If you watch closely, you’ll notice the contents coming together like a paste. Give it about 1 minute, turn it off, stir and then turn it back on. If yours isn’t yet forming into a paste, add a tbsp more of water (slowly) through the opening on top of the blender while it’s still on. The slower you go with water-addition, the less likely you are to get a watery chutney. Those are the worst! Once you’re done, scoop out the chutney in a bowl. Add salt to taste. If the chutney doesn’t have a slightly sour taste, add a bit more lemon juice.

Heat the oil on a pan and then add mustard seeds to it. I also added a sprinkle of whole cumin seeds because I felt like it. No real reason when flavour is in season. Once they start to pop, quickly take the pan off the flame and pour the mustard-y oil on top of the chutney and stir it around.

This is a pre-stirred around picture.

In Goa, we eat this on sandwiches (one side butter, other side chutney) or as a something on the side with our pulao, which I will be making this week. Hopefully I will have motherly help this time.

Though I’m sure I won’t. I guess I’ll resign myself to after-the-fact-comparisons.

Now eat!

How to conquer the world.

February 15, 2013 by Edlyn

I may not have all (or any) answers, but I know I’m the happiest when these feet are tired.

….when the fog does little to hide it

….when the winter sun makes me forget what a wuss I am without my fleece

…and when I get to call this my most important meal of the day.

Thanks for the sunshine today, Washington.
Herbert, thanks for the tour. Your mother is a saint; something my unholy self needed to hang around. And Bruce, you’re insane.

INSANE.

I loved every second of it.

“Can’t live without” Chocolate Thursday

February 14, 2013 by Edlyn

Did you know there’s no appropriate time in the day of the week of the month in a year to eat chocolate? None. I checked. The consensus says it’s now or never. The people have spoken! I’m shaking a little from this powerful information. It’s a mix of excitement and all the sugar I just consumed….

“Can’t live without” Thursday

February 7, 2013 by Edlyn

YES! It’s still Thursday, which means that I can still write this and not be a cheater. Phew. That’s not the image I was going for. I wouldn’t lie to you about important things such as this. I mean you deserve to know that I hate taking showers and always wish they’d invent car washes for humans.

Now I made myself sound like a smelly hobo. I’m not. I still shower. I just don’t like it very much. Social order be damned. It’s perfectly okay to have your own way of doing things. If you want to eat 8 pieces of chocolate, eat, I say. Research shows that people who ate 8 pieces a day were having more sex because it’s basically the same thing. I conducted that research by the way. Conclusion: You can buy happiness.

Freshly baked bread has that same effect on me. I remember the first time the bread man (called a “poder” in Goa) brought some “pao” to the house. You don’t know it what joy is until you spread a dollop of butter on it. Once you do, there’s no turning back.

Bread-making is something I’ve never done before. I always said I would try it but I kept lying to myself. This week was different. I finally moved my butt and did it. I made “Pain de Me” because I am too good for “Pain de Mie”. If you don’t get the joke, forget it. It’s not that funny. I did take two tries to get it right. I was starting from nowhere and a recipe I saw on Give Me Flour. That was alright with me. My kitchen is an extension of who I am. I don’t take myself too seriously and most of the cooking I do is not down to a science. I’m imperfect. My bread would probably be to some. I did it anyway and just those two tries made this experiment the best thing since sliced bread.

Ingredients

2 cups all-purpose flour
2 cups whole wheat flour
1 tbsp yeast
1 tbsp sugar
1/2 tbsp salt
1 1/3 water
1/2 cup olive oil

Add the sugar and yeast into the water and let it sit for 5 minutes until it gets all frothy and bubbly. Isn’t this part the best?! It’s beautiful, unlike those other yeast-related things that give yeast a bad name.

While the yeast is doing it’s thing, mix the flours, salt and olive oil in a large bowl. You can do this with your hands. Clean clean hands. Five minutes later, when the yeast is raring to go, pour it in the bowl and mix it all up until it forms into a dough. It might be a bit sticky but don’t worry too much about that. Knead it for 5 to 8 minutes on a lightly greased surface. Place the ball of dough back into the bowl, cover it, put it in a dark, enclosed space (like a kitchen cupboard) and let it rise for 45 minutes. I learnt from the recipe that the rising depends on how warm the area is so make sure you pick the best spot.

Grease a bread loaf pan and bring your dough out of hiding. Pat out the risen dough, fold it over and then form it into a long oblong shape to fit the greased pan. Remember the clean clean hands? Use two of those. Sprinkle some flour on the top, cover the pan with plastic wrap and put it back in the earlier space for the second rise. This should also take 45 minutes.

Heat the oven to 375 degrees F and pop the Jesus bread into the oven for 50 minutes to bake.

Cool it for 10 minutes before you start getting any dirty thoughts.

Like this.

Or like this.

What did you think I meant?