Comfort Food = Mac & Cheese

I love pasta. I'm sure I would have made my grandmother's family proud. Somewhere out there is a distant Italian relative who just shouted 'hurrah' across the ocean.

I have always been a macaroni and cheese kind of gal -- of course as a child, it conveniently came out of a box, and was one of the first things I probably learned to 'make'. Most of my pasta still comes out of a box, but only the pasta itself, and not the packet of orange powder.

When the Sailor isn't home, I tend to eat far too much pasta. He doesn't eat it, nor do I ever expect him to. A friend's father in England often used to say, 'If God wanted me to eat pasta, I would have been born in Italy.' 

The Sailor tends to agree with that line of reasoning. 

So the only pasta dish that gets made when he's home is the occasional lasagna, or some sort of dough stuffed with either potatoes or meat -- a pierogie, for instance. Floating noodles (like in the case of Pennsylvania Dutch Pot Pie*) are also acceptable, perhaps once if not twice a year. 

With temperatures at -19 F this morning (seriously, Old Man Winter -- isn't that a little chilly, even for you?) I was craving comfort food. 

I also wanted any excuse to use this gorgeous 2.5 quart Butterfly Gold vintage Pyrex casserole dish I found last week, at an antique store with a friend (it's the one on the bottom. The top one is a 1.5 quart I found ages ago.)

I had been lamenting not nabbing this piece months ago at the Weekend Antique event I went to, but at $20, I couldn't really justify it. Plus, I already found the refrigerator dishes I wanted that day. Sometimes you need to space out the joy.
 
But last week, I had just put down several pieces of Butterfly Gold that I didn't really like or want (the divided casserole... a few bowls that I already had...) and then I spied this lovely beast in a corner, for only $4. 

That's right. FOUR dollars! It had a few burn marks on it -- and it came with a clear lid, not the white patterned lid like some of the casseroles did, but I couldn't have cared less. I wanted the actual dish! 

 Turns out 2.5 quarts is just the right size for this classic mac and cheese casserole. 

I based the recipe off of this one from Annie's Eats. After I threw the casserole in the oven, and double checked the cooking time, I realized that I somehow completely skipped an entire main ingredient. 

I didn't add any colby jack cheese. 

(Not only did I not add it, but I didn't make up for it with any other cheese. How sad is that?)

I also had about half the amount of panko bread crumbs the recipe called for in my cupboard, no parsley, and no chicken broth (how is this possible? I ALWAYS have chicken broth somewhere.) Fortunately, I happen to save the turkey juice from Christmas lunch, so I used that instead, along with a little bit of veggie broth to get it up to the required amount. I was pretty chuffed with myself, since I do like to use up what I already have in most cases.

And, I used almond milk instead of regular milk, and quite possibly more garlic -- this dish definitely had some heat.
 
In my world, classic macaroni and cheese pairs perfectly with stewed tomatoes. But I only had a handful of cherry tomatoes that I needed to use up, so I sliced them in half and tossed them on top of the casserole. 

Regardless of my kitchen mishap with both directions and ingredient lists, the dish was delightful edible. And I have more than enough leftovers for lunch until the Sailor gets home.

I think next time though, I'll definitely try to stick with the original recipe -- with one exception. I will most certainly keep the tomatoes in there.

* For my true opinion on Pennsylvania Dutch Pot Pie, click here.

Kitchen Disasters

Awhile back, after posting about this lovely orange marmalade cake, and my holiday soirée, I promised a soon-coming post on kitchen disasters. Well, here it is. 

Meet my kitchen. 

Meet the magic that sometimes occurs even with limited counter space.

(What you see above is the counter. All of it. Seriously.) 

 Now meet even more kitchen chaos:

 Including the cake that simply fell apart when I tried to move it:

(For the record, that was supposed to be a chocolate peanut butter marble cake -- but I'm going to guess the original recipe didn't use natural peanut butter like I did, which is probably what should have kept it together.)  

Then there's the ganache that was far too gooey to roll into truffles: 

And oh so many more dishes that never get photographed...

The bottom line? For every wonderful creation I make in the kitchen, there is often a kitchen disaster story to tell. It might be a ruined dinner, a cake that somehow didn't bake properly, or something as silly as a dropped egg. (My mom used to say that eggs make the same sound no matter which floor they drop on... I have dropped enough eggs in several kitchens to know she speaks the truth.) Usually that dropped egg is the last one I have on hand and necessary for the recipe.

Thankfully, the Sailor doesn't mind a disaster every now and again -- as long as we have pizza delivery on speed dial, charcoal for the BBQ, or a Five Guys within driving distance, we'll be okay. He has also encouraged me on more than one occasion by reminding me 'that's how we learn...' 

I have definitely learned a thing or two.

Years ago, I paid too much money for a little black book on basic cooking. I thought I could use some help in the basic area of cooking some days -- most days in fact. 

Sure, I could do a lot of basic things. Growing up, I always prided myself on being able to boil an egg -- that often seemed to be the standard by which people judged someone's cooking ability: "So and so can't even boil an egg."

But I'd never poached an egg before, and my omelettes sometimes turned to scrambled eggs. Ironically, my egg timer supervised this sauce-of-something-or-other that turned whatever cake I made into a dish nobody should have to taste. So awful was the cake, I've completely blocked out the name of it. I couldn't tell you what was actually bubbling below except for that lonely cinammon stick.  

Like that cake, this basic book was a major disappointment. You see -- it was almost too gourmet to be 'basic'. They used words like 'chiffonade' and 'poivrade sauce'. It had recipes for lobster bisque and snail butter -- foods I never actually wanted to eat, let alone create from scratch.

When I wanted to make some simple scalloped potatoes, I searched high and low in this book for the recipe. I just wanted to know the cooking time and temperature. The book contained more than half a dozen potato recipes but nothing for scalloped spuds. (I eventually found the recipe in that old wartime cookbook...) 

Yet even though I keep wanting to just get rid of this book, something stops me every time I put it in the 'giveaway' pile. I think it's because I need to just try something 'basic' out of it -- even if I can't pronounce it -- even if it might be a flop.

Tonight, when I picked the book back up and flipped through it, I saw the instructions for how to poach an egg. 

I suddenly realized that after all of these years, I have still never tried to make poached eggs before. They are pretty basic, after all.

Perhaps it's time. I think my little kitchen can handle it -- as long as I don't drop the eggs on the floor first. 

If I master that, maybe I can work my way up to snail butter. I've discovered there are no snails actually in the butter -- just garlic, parsley and shallots.  

And when all else fails, I know I can still boil an egg. I can also make oatmeal like a champ. I'm also convinced that anything tastes better in Pyrex. Read more here at the Pyrex Collective III about my hunt for cereal bowls.  

Family Kitchen Mergers

Growing up without much money, my family got creative with how we entertained ourselves. As a child, I would page through my mom's old, dog-eared wartime cookbook whenever she used it, especially for baking. I loved the photos -- they transported me to another era with pictures of dinner parties, jello molds and decorative cookies.  

When I was old enough to understand the significance of this cookbook in my mother's life, I told her it was the one thing that I wanted her to leave me when she died. The book had been my grandmother's, passed on to my mom at a young age. 

Several years ago, my mom decided that I shouldn't have to wait until her funeral to have my own copy. She found another one online and presented it to me as my very own -- yet still promising me her heirloom edition one day.

I have several old cookbooks from yesteryear, but this one is by far my favorite and I use it frequently. Recipes may have changed over the years, but some things are still classic -- like Yorkshire Pudding. Now I have my own notes and bookmarks falling out of my copy. 

Nowadays, I also appreciate the back section of the book with wartime recipes on a budget.

Around the same time my mom gave me the book, I had recently returned from the Sailor's hometown. During my stay there, I made the Sailor's family a pie. I searched high and lo for a rolling pin -- frustrated that I didn't know where anything was in the kitchen. (Read more about that here.)

My mother-in-law saw my frustration and dug into the cabinet. She handed me what appeared to be a glass bottle. 

I looked at the lid on one end and then I looked at her.

She explained that it was for keeping pastry cold -- you load the rolling pin with ice-cubes and then it keeps the dough chilled while you work with it. 

This was ingenious! I had never seen such a thing before. I somewhat joked with her that she could leave it to me in the future. Sometime later, I realized I needed to acquire my own rolling pin, before I continued to covet the one in the South African cupboard.

Last week, I found myself in the throes of antique hunting in Tennessee. I have spied a few glass rolling pins over the year, but they were always out of my price range. This time, on my second trip through the store, I found one for only $8. It's missing the lid, but I'm sure the Sailor can find something for me that fits. Besides, once the ice-cubes are in there, they're  not really going to 'fall out'.

This week, I realized that I now own two kitchen items that are symbolically related to my mom and mother-in-law -- and I still get to ask them both cooking advice. A perfect family history and merger. The only question remains is which recipe from that cookbook am I going to try out first with my new rolling pin?

Festive Merry-Making

I felt festive this week, and wanted to share a little merriment with some friends I've known for most of my life.

Plus, since the Sailor isn't home, somebody needed to eat all of the goodies I've been making. 

 What better way to share the joy than by having a little holiday-inspired soirée?

I made these brilliant little sugared-cranberries, thanks to 
one of my favorite food blogs: Annie's Eats. 

I used them to decorate the otherwise bland cracker tray, and then I also made a ring around the orange marmalade poppyseed bundt cake. I originally planned a different cake, but it was a complete flop, so I went with the old standby -- this is the third one I've made in two weeks. (Stay tuned for a post on kitchen disasters...)

The cranberries that didn't make the sugared-cut got left out for the birds. 

They didn't seem interested though. 

My friends, however, devoured the sugared cranberries. 
Who knew such a simple decorative dish could be so delightful?

I also made some cheesy onion pull-apart bread, and at the last minute, 

threw together a simple (and delicious) roasted chickpea salad.

There were also chocolate truffles.

(Half of which did not go as planned -- again, stay tuned for kitchen disasters...)

 

And of course, what's a holiday party without cookies? Check out how I scored this lovely vintage pink fridge dish, plus more baking prep photos here. 

 Wishing you all a wonderful holiday season!

Orange Marmalade Cake

Poppy seeds remind me of Ukraine. I ate more than my fair share of poppy seed layered cake in that country. I wanted to bake something equivalent over here in America, so I purchased what seemed like a ton of poppy seeds and scoured my numerous books for a recipe. 

I never did find the Ukrainian one. But I had all of these poppy seeds, and I also had a neat vintage bundt pan waiting to be used, so instead I made an orange marmalade cake. I have made it several times this year for guests, and even people who don't like oranges or marmalade (or even poppy seeds) loved it.

It became my go-to dessert, much like my potato salad has become my go-to side dish to bring to a picnic. 

Today, I made it again for my knitting guild party. The first time I ever baked it, the power went out 10 minutes after I put it in the oven. I don't remember why it went out -- but I do remember the cake didn't turn out at all. I needed to start the whole thing over once the power came back on.

I used the giant bundt pan I found at a thrift store for only $2. The recipe called for a 'large' bundt pan... but the cake turned out super short. The recipe was from a South African magazine. Apparently their large isn't quite so big as this thing:

While the cake tasted great, it was somewhat short. The next time, I used a smaller bundt pan I also found during a thrifting hunt -- the cake came out the perfect size. 

Today, while making it again, I don't know whether I was more excited to use that small bundt pan, or the juicer I scored during a weekend antique hunt. 

They both made me happy. The whole process made me again thankful for my own little kitchen. The finished cake made me smile, too. The gals at the knitting club hardly made a dent, but I won't be complaining when I have a slice for breakfast. I'm sure my elderly neighbor will also be thrilled when I give him a piece or two, tomorrow.

I'm still on the hunt for the Ukrainian poppy seed cake recipe, though. This cake is great, but it's not quite the same.

Pilgrim Boots and Second Thanksgiving

In early fall, I knit these fabulous legwarmers. I had a friend model them for me, along with a pair of boots I purchased for my recent trip. 

I have strayed far from my college Doc Martin and Birkenstock days... and while I wear the latter obsessively over the summer, I usually wear boots with heels when I go out in colder weather. (I am short. Every little bit helps.) When I planned to visit a friend in Idaho, the Sailor suggested I get a more practical pair for both the plane and the trip out West. 

My friend's son thought they looked like pilgrim boots. 

I concur a little, but I'll bet the pilgrims didn't have boots quite so comfortable. 

I also thought the pilgrim boots comment was somewhat appropriate, since last night, we celebrated Thanksgiving again. 

There were cranberries, and mashed potatoes and stuffing and a turkey and of course... pumpkin pie. I have made lots of pies in my life, but for some reason, I have never once made a pumpkin pie. 

So, for Second Thanksgiving, I made the pumpkin pie. This is the work of art, fresh out of the oven. We also experimented and cooked the filling without the crust as a sort of custard. It too, was fabulous

Maybe it's funny that we celebrated Thanksgiving a second time, two weeks after the first one. But really, why shouldn't we celebrate Thanksgiving more than once? Every day, we can find things to be thankful for. 

I am thankful for many things, but today, I'm especially grateful for my boots. It's been raining all week, and now today the snow finally started falling. 

My boots, paired with last year's woolly knit socks similar to these, create the perfect winter footwear.  

The Dishes

Dishes are an inevitable part of life. We eat. Then we eat again, and again, and again. And unless you eat out three times a day, or use paper plates in your house daily for every meal (or you eat a meal over the sink, which I have been known to do on occasion when the Sailor is not home) then you need to do the dishes at some point. 

Modern conveniences mean many of us in the Western world simply rinse the dishes and load the dishwasher. Unless you have a grimy pot, no elbow grease is required. 

I've never had a dishwasher in my life. I'm not sure I ever want one. I'm one of those people who doesn't mind doing the dishes. To me, it's always been part of the whole 'cook it, then clean it up' process. 

To make the process more enjoyable, I employ good soap (always natural -- I have a weird allergy to any type of blue dish soap and many green ones) and I like to use fun sponges or dishcloths to clean up.

I had quite a bit of yarn leftover from the Bullion Beach Blanket, so I whipped up some basic garter stitch dishcloths and crocheted tawashis -- perfect for scrubbing. 

Recently, I gave a few to a friend as a gift. I smiled, as I did the dishes at her house, using the bright green dishcloth to clean the counter.

Leftover Turkey Pie

Thanksgiving yields a bounty of leftovers -- no matter how big or small your gathering is, it always seems like there's at least some extra turkey in the end. 

I make two things incredibly well -- my potato salad and real chicken pot-pie. When in doubt, I make and bring either of these two items to pot-lucks or I make them for guests. People have different ideas of pot-pie though.

I grew up in Pennsylvania Dutch country, and the first time I ordered pot-pie in a local restaurant, I looked up from the floating noodles in dismay. My mother must have seen my face, because she calmly explained to me that this was not pot-pie. 

My Chicago-born parents made it clear for me at a very young age that chicken pot-pie has a crust. As the floating noodles were not encased in either a top or bottom crust, it would stand to reason that I never ordered that version of the dish again (although I did finally yield to hometown tradition... and I learned to make the PA Dutch version. It's not bad, but I still don't think they should have called it pot-pie. It's more like chicken noodle soup with chunks of potatoes.) 

Pot-pie to me is pure comfort food, all in one dish. The standard recipe I use calls for carrots, celery and onions, all tossed with chicken broth, milk and a little flour. The recipe also calls for peas, but as the Sailor can't stand them, I always omit them, even when he's not home. This time, I added some leftover spinach that has been staring at me from the fridge for the past few days. And of course, instead of chicken, I used the turkey leftovers from Thanksgiving. Flaky pastry dough tops off the pie. (I'd love to use a bottom crust, but considering the amount of butter that goes into the dough, I usually just put a top on the pie.)

There is no photo of the finished pie because let's face it, it never lasts long around here. 

I still had tons of both white and pumpernickel bread leftover from the stuffing I made last week though, so I decided to make croutons with them while the oven was still warm. The pumpernickel took forever to dry out, and I'm not convinced the cubes are fully dry. They are however, delightful while they are still warm, with a few chunks of cheese. 

(Never mind those mini pumpkins -- they're another leftover on the list...)

Stuffing and Stuffed Apple Pies

Tonight was a baking feast, even though I'm not even the one making Thanksgiving dinner. My mother has the whole dinner planned out, but ever since last year and thanks to a Food Network magazine mix-in recipe, I've declared the stuffing to be the tradition that I make and bring every year. (Mom never made stuffing in any case, so it's not like I took anything away from our Thanksgiving... I just added to it...)

Tonight there was stuffing prep: 

More stuffing prep:

And yes, even more stuffing prep. This stuffing rocks. Seriously.

Sometime after that, I got around to the dessert. My mom already has the pumpkin pie sorted, but since I had leftover dough from a meat pie I made when the Sailor was still home, I thought I'd make individual apple pies -- easier to freeze in case there are any leftovers. (But realistically, who said there would be leftovers?) I've already devoured one (not including that mini leftover test chunk in the middle of the tray...)

Happy Thanksgiving!

Butternut Squash Soup

Ever since I picked up a copy of the The New Covent Garden Soup Company's Book of Soups (say that with a mouthful of creamy tomato...) over a decade ago in London, I have loved making and creating soups. Veggies that will soon spoil? Too much rice from dinner? An extra cooked chicken breast? Throw it all together and make soup! 

I think my love of soup also stems from so much time spent in Ukraine -- there soup is a staple. Even so, I never tired of it. 

Tonight's offering -- Butternut Squash Soup. In early October, just as the Sailor and I returned from our month-long road trip, I went to a nearby farm and bought up a bunch of butternut squash to turn into soup. I went crazy that week... a month on the road and I was ready to get back to my kitchen. I knew this was my favored soup of last fall and even into winter, so I wanted to whip up enough to stash for later. 

Sadly, tonight's dinner was one of the last of that batch! There is one more single serving left, but I don't think that will even make it through November. Oh well, there is always leftover pumpkin. Stay tuned.

 
Full disclosure: this photo was actually taken during the Butternut Squash Soup cooking craze six weeks ago. I also made croutons with leftover bread that week. Tonight's dinner made due with crackers from the cupboard.