Yesterday I cooked up some home-made waffles. I made a double batch of batter, but that filled a two-quart pitcher all the way to the top! I cranked out a high stack of golden brown deliciousness, but had over half a pitcher of batter left. Pause for eating. Said waffles were filling, much more so than the wimpy toaster variety found at the supermarket, and no one was able to eat more than two, even Aran. (!) This was where Mackie said, "It's good to eat hot waffles on a cold morning."
After everyone was done, I reheated my cast-iron burner-top waffle iron and cranked through the rest of the batter, generating an even huger stack. These went into the freezer for other days.
We first encountered this treat in Ukraine when Irene, our housekeeper, made borscht. You peel a clove of garlic, dip it in coarse salt, and eat. Sasha has been doing this quite a lot lately, and Mackie has followed suit. It's been rather . . . unpleasant to stand close to him.
Aran wandered into the kitchen. "You're making pancakes?" he said. "I already ate pancakes. There were a couple in the freezer from last time, and I ate them while you were in the shower. But," he hastened to add, "I'm still hungry."
The final tally? Counting the pancakes Aran ate before breakfast, it was:
Maksim: 3
Aran: 8
Sasha: 9
Kala: 3
Me: 3
There were no extra pancakes for the freezer . . .
"This meal wasn't so much cooked as assembled," I remarked at the table.
"I want more," Sasha said, reaching for the fruit.
"Sometimes it bothers me," I said, "that I don't know how to butcher a pig or a cow, though I could probably do a chicken if I had to."
"Sometimes it bothers me," Kala said, "that you think about things like that."
"In my country," Sasha put in, "we killed pigs every year. We stick something in their chest, into their heart. They squeal for a long time, and then they finally die. Then we burn the skin to . . . to . . . "
"To get the bristles off?" I supplied.
He nodded. "Yeah. That's it. You know what my favorite food from a pig is?"
"What?" I asked.
"I don't know the name," he answered. "But you take the tubes from inside the pig and fill them with blood and cook them and eat them."
"That's blood sausage," I said.
"Yep," Kala said.
"It's delicious," Sasha said.
"Where the heck would you get blood sausage around here?" I asked.
Kala shrugged. "No clue. Zingerman's?"
We have some of the weirdest conversations at our table. And now we have to track down a supplier for blood sausage.
I saw no reason not to indulge.
I stopped at a donut emporium on my way in to my place of employment and bought a full dozen--no sense in depriving my fellow English educators--and dropped the box off in the local workroom. Deliciousness!
I like living in a country where I can get a box of fresh donuts whenever I wish.
What's your favorite "Mmmmm . . . " food?
- Mood:
full
Southern Fried Chicken
Ingredients:
Your favorite dry chicken rub or seasoning
4 pieces boneless chicken breast
1 1/2 cup self-rising flour
3/4 cup hot red pepper sauce
2 eggs
Directions
Heat the oil to 350 degrees F in a deep pot. Do not fill the pot more than 1/2 full with oil.
In a medium size bowl, beat the eggs. Add enough hot sauce so the egg mixture is bright orange (about 3/4 cup). Season the chicken with the rub or seasoning. Dip the seasoned chicken in the egg, and then coat well in the flour. Place the chicken in the preheated oil and fry the chicken in the oil until brown and crisp. Approximate cooking time is 10 to 12 minutes.
##
We accompanied it with corn on the cob and apple sauce. It was so very, very good. Mackie, who doesn't like meat much, ate every bite, and Aran, who has to be coaxed to eat, cleaned his plate and asked for more. This one's a keeper, though we almost never deep fry, so we won't make it too often.
Spatz's (properly pronounced "spot's," though no one does) is the best bread in the whole wide world. The bakery is a little, tiny place on State Street in Saginaw, a family-owned business that's been around for decades. They only ship to the mid-Michigan area, places they can easily reach from Saginaw. Their sales are brisk. Everyone loves their bread. It hasn't changed in living memory. You can't get it outside the Saginaw area, and people like me who move beyond the Spatz range buy it in quantity for freezing when we visit.
Every year, the bakery closes for two weeks for vacation. Just before that time, everyone buys the bread like crazy and freezes it so they don't get withdrawal symptoms.
It makes the absolute best toast and sandwiches. A Spatz grilled cheese is matchless. It always comes out crisp on the outside and tender on the inside. But eat it quickly! Spatz bread goes stale really, really fast because they don't put preservatives in it. And it comes in a paper bag with a wax paper liner, just like in the old days. A loaf still weighs a pound (no increasing the price by decreasing the weight here, thanks), and the wrapper's design hasn't changed one bit.
The Spatz family could easily expand their bakery--they have more than enough demand--but they never have because they're afraid that expanding the business will diminish the quality of the product. So they continue puttering along, putting out the most wonderful bread ever, and it languishes in obscurity in this mid-sized city in Michigan.
And I say, thank heavens! Our country has become so homogenous with chain stores and chain restaurants that there are almost no regional treats left. Spatz's bread is one of them, and all the more delightful because of it.
http://laughlines.blogs.nytimes.com/2008/0
A half-pound hamburger. With an egg fried in butter on top. And bacon on top of that. Sandwiched between two Krispy Kreme donuts. Over 1,000 calories and a bazillion grams of fat.
The frightening thing is, I want to try one.
- Mood:
exanimate
Last night, I decided to try making sushi for the first time. We had the necessary utensils for it and most of the ingredients. The only things we were missing were medium-grain rice and rice vinegar. I dashed out to the store for those two things and had at it.
First up was making the rice. Sushi rice is different from "regular" rice. I read the recipe in the sushi cookbook I now have and also looked up a couple of on-line videos so I would know what I was doing. Measured the rice, rinsed it (I had no idea how dirty rice is!), and put it in our new rice cooker. Then I mixed up the rice flavoring--rice vinegar, sugar, and salt--and started cutting up the filling.
I wasn't making a particular kind of sushi. We had lots of shrimp left over from the New Year party, and that was what I was mostly using. Since the shrimp were curly and unsuited for rolling, I cut them up. Then I cut long strips of carrots, scallions, and cucumbers. I was just about done when the rice finished.
I spooned the rice into a big, flat wooden bowl and poured the rice flavoring into it, fanning and cutting the rice all the while as the recipe said to do. The texture seemed right to me, and it tasted good.
I laid out the seaweed nori on the bamboo mat, coated it with rice, and laid out the shrimp, scallions, cucumbers, and carrots. I rolled it carefully, applying pressure like the recipe and videos said. Everything held together well. Ta da! Sushi roll! I wet a knife and sliced the roll in half, then in thirds for six pieces. Arranged these on a big sushi platter, and went on to the next one.
Some of the rolls came out better than others. And the rolls came out really, really big. The recipe said to cover the nori to half an inch of the edges, but next time I think I'll either cut the nori in half or not fill it quite so far because the pieces were a little to big to eat in one comfortable bite. There were lots and lots and lots of pieces, with rice left over. Whew!
I set the table with plates and soy bowls and chopsticks. The boys were enthusiastic about it, and ate quite a lot of sushi. Delicious!
At 7:15 the first set of guests arrived, a bit early because they'd gotten the times mixed up. That was fine--we put them to work with last-minute prepping. :) We munched on Irish Nachos:
IRISH NACHOS
kettle corn style potato chips
grated cheddar cheese (or bleu cheese, if you want to go fancy)
bacon bits (crumbled real bacon is best, if it can be arranged)
sour cream
scallions, chopped
Arrange chips on microwavable platter. Top with cheese and bacon bits. Microwave until cheese is melted. Top with sour cream and scallions. Serve.
A bit later, I put The Clogger in the oven.
THE CLOGGER
2 c mayonnaise
2 cans Mexican-style corn (with peppers in it)
1 small can chilis
2 c shredded pepper jack cheese
1/2 c parmesan cheese
Mix all ingredients. Back at 350 d. until heated through and bubbly. Remove and serve hot with corn chips for dipping.
Downstairs in the kid area, I put bowls of Oreos, Doritos, dip, crackers, and Chocolate Fondue for Cheaters
CHOCOLATE FONDUE FOR CHEATERS
1 box graham cracker sticks
1 can chocolate frosting
Dip the first into the second. Eat!
Other guests began to arrive. One member of the UWG showed up with a complete fondue set with chocolate! They swiftly chopped up an entire set of treats for dipping and filled two pots.
CHOCOLATE FONDUE
16 oz. (1 pckg) semi-sweet chocolate
1 can condensed milk (or 1 1/2 c cream)
1 t vanilla
Granny Smith (green) apples
pound cake
peanut butter cookies
marshmallows
Oreo cookies
fresh pears
stick pretzels
Melt first three ingredients together slowly in microwave or on stove. Pour into fondue pot and light to keep warm. Chop up rest of ingredients and arrange on platter. Dip each with fondue fork into melted chocolate and eat.
Delicious!
The party got into full swing fairly quickly. The basement was full of children rushing around, playing computer games, playing hide-and-seek, and doing other things. The only mishap of the evening was a stubbed toe.
The grownup party ranged from large group conversation to small group conversation to board games to karaoke. And of course we watched the ball drop and drank champagne at midnight. The party broke up at about 1:30--we's gettin' old, and the kids were gettin' cranky. (Interestingly, none of the children conked out except Aran, who went to bed at midnight.)
We did minimal cleanup and fell into bed ourselves, then finished up this morning. It was a fine, fine New Year's party!
Happy New Year!
- Mood:
bouncy
Saturday I started baking. First up, a trip to the store. Much chocolate to buy, and oh no! Peppermint extract was one sale, but was all out. Meant I had to make another stop on the way home. This all took longer than I thought it would, so I didn't actually start doing anything in the kitchen until after 2:00.
First, I made up a batch of Cocoa Peppermint Thumbprint Cookies snurched from
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tammylc . Every year I try to make one new recipe, and this was the one. I could see that the recipe was for a small amount, so I doubled it. They came out very well.Also made some chocolate macaroons, since my sister-in-law can't eat wheat flour without getting sick. Macaroons have none, so they're Kristi-safe.
I tried making fudge. Aaaand, true to form, it came out as chocolate sauce instead. Oh well. We'll use it as dipping sauce with fruit at the New Years Party.
By then I was abruptly tired, so I stopped for the evening.
- Mood:
tired
MAKSIM'S SPECIAL SANDWICH
2 tb peanut butter
1 tb Miracle Whip
1 tsp yellow mustard
2 tb Asiago cheese
Spread peanut butter on one slice of bread. Spread Miracle Whip on other side. Drizzle mustard over Miracle Whip. Sprinkle Asiago cheese on peanut butter. Assemble sandwich, cut on diagonal, and eat.
Well, he liked it.
- Mood:
nauseated
We ended up at Red Robin because we were hungry and it was close.
I don't like Red Robin anymore. Their prices have risen sharply (thanks to rising gas prices, I assume), but their food quality isn't all that fantastic. (How good can it be when it comes in a red plastic basket?) I could handle all that, I suppose, but for one thing:
The place is NOISY. A dozen TVs blare from the ceiling. The kitchen is open to the eating area, so you get food prep noise and conversation. The walls and furniture are all hard wood, which bounces and magnifies sound. Whenever someone has a birthday, half the waitstaff joins a clapping parade that sings at the top of its lungs. The loudspeaker music is loud enough to dance to. It's like eating in a sports arena. I had to lean across the table to hear whenever Mackie wanted to talk to me.
It was definitely not what I was hoping for in an evening's repast. The boys like the food, but next time I think I'll go someplace else entirely or just bag the idea. Red Robin just sucks all the way around.
And I really wanted sushi!
- Mood:
disappointed
Maksim helped me remove the bone (Sam was pleased and spent considerable time with it in the back yard). Then we pulled the meat apart and put into another pot. Next, we peeled and chopped onions. I showed him how to saute them, which he thought was pretty cool. He tasted a bit of raw onion and didn't like it, then was quite surprised at how the taste changed after sauteeing. We added them to the pork, then stirred in the barbecue sauce for simmering.
Next we put together a salad. It was all greens, so I had Maksim get out some carrots and we grated them over the top. "The carrots taste good," I said, "and see how the orange looks nice on the green?"
"Yes," he said. "It's pretty."
"Yep. Food should both taste good and look good. The carrots make the salad look nicer, so we add them."
We also cut up some musk melon, another light side dish to complement the heavy pork sandwiches.
Aran set the table, and we sat down to eat. Mackie ate enormous portions of everything!
Joy! It was.
Sushi Narn's main attraction is the conveyer belt. It's a small one that loops around the booths. On it are little plates, each with three pieces of "chef's special" sushi and a sign explaining what they are and what's in them. The plates are $2.50 each. If you want one, you just snag it and eat. The server counts the plates to figure out how much to charge you. They also have a regular menu of both regular dishes and more sushi.
Sasha loves sushi, and fearlessly chows down any kind (except overly spicy types). Maksim likes it well enough. And Aran loves udon--as long as we call it Raman Noodles. Aran, you see, picked up on the idea of Raman Noodles being a cool food from various anime cartoons. Finally--a use for Pokemon!
We sat down and ordered. Kala got a couple of sushi rolls. Sasha and I said we'd eat from the conveyer belt. (Sasha was particularly fascinated by this concept.) For Maksim and Aran, we orded a single udon bowl. This turned out to be a good idea, because the bowl was the size of a stew pot! Aran happily slurped down noodles, and Maksim alternated between those and bites of sushi. Sasha loved being able to snag whatever kind he liked whenever he liked it, and Kala and I knew from our previous visit that we really liked their food. Everyone ate to bursting!
The bill, when it arrived, was eminently reasonable.
It's a splendid thing to find a restaurant where the boys will eat that doesn't serve french fries, hamburgers, or grilled cheese!
- Mood: full
Sasha drinks coffee. He's the only one in the house who does. We bought him a little coffee maker last Yule, though we have to police its use. He has a penchant for making a pot at 8:00 at night. Firm rule: no caffeinated beverages after 7:00.
Anyway, he likes coffee but has a distinctly . . . teenage male sensibility about it. He makes a carafe in the morning, drinks some of it, and lets the rest sit and cool off. He revisits the machine ever so often, pouring himself a cold cup of coffee and reheating it in the microwave. I've seen him reheat coffee that's more than 24 hours old.
I don't drink coffee at all and know almost nothing about it, but even I know that coffee gets nasty if you leave it sitting around. I've mentioned this to Sasha.
"The point of having a little coffeemaker is that you can make just one or two cups at a time," I said. "You don't have to make a whole pot. Make it fresh each time."
"Dad, no," he said. "I like to have it all ready whenever I want it."
Okay, whatever. It's his coffee.
Bleah!
- Mood: nauseated
Yesterday we decided to order delivery food. I was working on my laptop, so I thought I'd use the pizza place's web site to place the order.
Never again.
I put the order in--two subs and a pizza--and entered the debit card info. But all the confirmation page did was hang. It wouldn't give a confirmation of the order and it wouldn't give an error. It was stuck loading. Finally I called the pizza place, which sort of obviated the whole Internet thing. The surfer dude on the phone said, "Wow. The web page usually works real good. Hey Jake! Is the web page working?" (muffled reply) "Hold on, dude."
Some time passed and the surfer dude cambe back on the line. "Okay, we got the order. I'll put it in."
Considerable time passed and the order didn't show up. Then the pizza place called and said the debit card didn't go through, dude. Could I give them the numbers again? I did, teeth clenched, and it went through just fine.
"None of this would have happened if your web page had been working properly," I said. "If there were a problem with the card, the web page should have alerted me right away instead of hanging."
"We have the order right here, dude," the guy said. "We'll send it right out."
Which meant it had been sitting on the counter all this time. Great.
Another half an hour passed. No food. I called again. "Where's our order, please?"
This time I was talking to the manager. "The driver left with it about five minutes ago," he said.
So our food had been sitting on their counter for over an hour.
The food finally arrived. It was barely lukewarm. The pizza was made wrong. And it came about about three minutes before Comrade Sarah was supposed to pick me up for the bi-weekly writers group meeting. I had to bring my sub with me and eat during the meeting, which was extremely awkward.
If this is the worst thing that happens to me all week, I shall be pleased, but here's some advice: pizza companies make pizza. They don't do tech. Mixing food and the web is a mistake.
- Mood:
annoyed
The way home from the meeting, everyone was =so= hungry. Kala was planning to make a chicken and potato dish for supper, but it would take over an hour to make and we didn't want to wait that long. So we stopped at a 50s drive-in.
A real one. It's called the Chick-Inn Drive-In and it's not far from out house. It opened in 1953 and was the normal drive-in. You drove up to a menu and a waitress (probably in roller skates) came up to take your order, then brought it to you on a tray or in a paper bag if you weren't staying to eat. At some point, someone installed intercoms beneath the menus so you could call your order in, and it's remained that way to this day. You can still eat in your car or drive off. The place still looks much like it did in the 50s, or so I imagine. Neon rims the eaves and windows, a rotating sign announces the name
of the restaurant and asks you to stop in. The phone number on the sign still uses letters for the first two numbers of the prefix, so it's HU3 to call them, probably has been for fifty years.
I've passed the place thousands of times by now but never eaten there. Today, needing food and not passing any take-out places on the way home, we decided to grab supper there.
I drove up and Kala, who was sitting near the menu, leaned out to thumb the intercom. She called in the order and, after a fair wait, eventually a server came out (no roller skates) with several paper bags of food. We drove off and got home before the fries cooled.
The food was very good, actually. A major step above fast food, and at least as good as Red Robin, but about fifteen dollars cheaper. The boys loved the home-made milkshakes. I had snagged a take-out menu. We can call an order in and have it ready for us when we get there.
- Mood:
cheerful
Update:
They came out pretty good. Baking time needed to be longer than the recipe's stated time of 35-40 minutes. The undersides were clearly still damp, so I flipped them over and left them in for an extra ten minutes. Quite tasty with cream cheese bought just for the occasion! Nom nom nom!
Supper will be late.
- Mood:
pleased
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