Toast and Jelly

It is the elixir that many grandmothers over the years use to wield their most powerful mojo.   My own grandmother was her own exception, and even today when my aunts get together inevitably her chicken soup, and all of their inability to recreate it, comes up as a topic of conversation.  Her belief in the soup, went well beyond the cold.  While my brother suffered through numerous knee surgeries throughout his late teens and early twenties, my grandmother would always arrive at the hospital with casserole of chicken soup for him.

She did nothing fancy that I knew of, except for the pinch of saffron near the end, a nod to the cooking education she received.   Shortly after being married, my grandfather returned to Spain with his bride.  It was there that she learned to cook.  She learned to cook specifically to please my grandfather, so it was the food he was accustomed she learned.   Over the years, some of the food from her heritage crept back in, such as stuffed cabbage, and her yearly perogie festival, which was more like a holiday than a  food item.   But the daily cooking and the holiday cooking was usually Spanish food for my grandfather.

Despite my mother’s penchant for making everything from scratch, I only ever remember chicken soup out of a can at home.   I don’t fault her for this, it was just plain old survival at that point.  Raising four children, canned soup was the best instant food of her time.   But it was that canned soup, that really brought me to indifference about soup in general. 

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When I am asked one day, by hopefully my children, where I was the night Barack Obama was elected President, I will say I was home sick on the couch with the flu.    Despite all of that, I am so excited to have voted, and witnessed this momentous day in our nation’s history.   

Hopefully I will get back to posting soon.    

I left work early this afternoon due to a bad cold.  (I don’t want to use the ’f’ word)  I spent it on the couch watching a marathon of the first season of Top Chef.  I am grateful to Bravo for the marathon and the ability to just sit and chill, not that I have much of choice.  Hopefully, I will be up to more meaningful posts soon.

I am an hors d’oeuvres snob. Or, hopefully, in recovery from being an hors d’oeuvres snob. I am told the first step is admitting that I have a problem.

This weekend we went away for a friend’s wedding.  At the cocktail hour, I was seduced by a new passed hors d’oeuvres. It was the mini Rueben. A miniature one bite sandwich of toasted rye bread, with briny corned beef, the sweet russian dressing, the tangy sauerkraut, and the cheese to smooth is all out. Yet, all of that packed into one bite. It was perfect.  It is this wonderfully combination of one bite flavor that makes me want to confess.

I tell people it is bacon wrapped scallops that are my favorite, and I do like them, but they are my hors d’oeuvres beard, just so I don’t have to admit that my favorite hors d’oeuvre is the same it has been since I was 6.  I can do without all of the stuffed mushrooms, most of the bruschetta. Occasional sate is okay, as is the little mini lamb chop, yet most are lacking in flavor, and with no flavor, it is just a meat popsicle, which is kind of gross.  I would like to tell you that I prefer all sorts of seafood, and fancy cheese, and fruit and all of that hors d’oeuvres which are all fine, but really, it is the simple familiar flavors that get me. Which leads me to admitting that my favorite of all passed hors d’oeuvres is the humble and ubiquitous pigs in a blanket.

And as T and I drove home, we discussed which appetizers would be passed for our wedding reception. Although I have been putting pigs in a blanket on the list the entire time I have been telling him it is for my neices and nephews.  But now, I am finally able to admit, that it is for I that I want pigs in a blanket passed at our wedding.  I am not sure if they can do the miniature reuben’s for our cocktail hour, but the rehearsal dinner is a different story.

       This salad was an inevitable collision of random events.   Somehow, I got inspired to make my own ricotta cheese, realizing how easy it was.   And, the first organic tomatoes appeared at the Friday Farmers Market.   That afternoon, I bought the tomatoes, and that night, I made the ricotta.
     On Saturday, I pondered what to do with the ricotta as a bowl, of cherry tomatoes were staring me in the face. The rest just fell into place.

     When I was a kid, there was always a tomato discussion throughout the summer.   Besides getting home grown ones from family and neighbors, which were most prized, there was also the discussion of which farm stand had the best ones. I didn’t particularly like any tomato as a kid, and I certainly didn’t want some gnarly and mottled misshapen thing grown in my aunt’s back yard.   The only acceptable tomatoes, not that I would eat them mind you, where perfectly and evenly red unblemished abominations, that I would now consider flavorless.
    I now know better, and long for the home grown variety or at least from a farm stand, and look forward to next week when my next door neighbors will be on vacation, leaving their lovely tomato plants unchaperoned.

     Making your own ricotta might seem like a reach, but it is a rather simple procedure.   I was inspired by a post at 101 Cookbooks.    It is well worth it making your own ricotta, the flavor difference is enormous, however in a pinch, buying it will be just fine as well. 

     And if you haven’t checked out 101 Cookbooks, definitely do.  Spend some time with the archives, there are a lot of great recipes in there.  

 The Salad of Summer 2008

Ingredients

• Cherry Tomatoes
• Salt
• Pepper
• Balsamic Vinegar
• Fresh Ricotta
• Fresh Herbs
• Extra Virgin Olive Oil

For side salad

 I used about 4-5 cherry tomatoes person.  Make this salad when you are ready to serve.

1. Quarter the tomatoes, place in the bowls or plates you are going to serve in
2. Spinkle tomatoes with a little sea salt
3. Drizzle a little bit of balsamic vinegar over the tomatoes
4. Place the ricotta on top of tomatoes, a couple of tablespoon of ricotta per serving
5. Drizzle extra virgin olive oil.
6. Season with salt and fresh cracked pepper.  
7. Sprinkle fresh herbs on top.
    

I would like to tell you that I live in an old farmhouse located someplace in Vermont, southern Vermont to be more precise. The exact year it was built is uncertain, but we can find records dating back to the 1830’s. Most of the farm was sold off years ago, but we still have about 15 acres or so. About ½ of the acreage we lease to some local farmers who use it for hay.

We have a couple of old apple trees across the driveway. When we moved in we had to nurse them back, but they have started to produce some wonderful fruit. In the fall we have a weekend in which we invite our families up; we call it our “Cider Fest.” I spend a good solid week cooking and preparing for everyone’s arrival. Although the trees are producing, we still have to supplement the weekends activities with some apples from a local orchard. 

We have a couple of chickens in the yard that keeps us in fresh eggs although there is one particular hen that just plain old refuses to lay. She is the patriarch of the clutch keeping the other girls in line.

We have a garden in the backyard, that now pretty much encompasses most of the yard. When we first moved it was just a little plot of about 5 feet by 10 feet. I spend my days dependent upon the season, the weather and my deadlines.  I still keep all of the herbs close to the backyard, so when I am cooking and in need, I can just run out and cut some.

I have been waiting for that farmhouse and for Vermont, along with the lifestyle I imagine that would come along with it.  But my reality right now, and for the foreseeable future is a bit different.  I don’t live in Vermont.  I live in Central New Jersey, in the bottom floor of a two family house.  The house was probably built in the 30’s and retains some of the original charm.   Our house is separated from the houses next to us by a driveway and a sidewalk.  I like it and for now it is home, just as this area has been my home for a number of years.  The kitchen is very accommodating, and that is pretty much all I need.  And even though our home is in the center of town, it is surprisingly quiet.  The old floors squeak, and the windows are drafty, but that is part of the charm of living in an older home.   Friends and family come regularly, and we are grateful to have a dining room in which to host meals.  Last year, we had Christmas eve here with my family.

The backyard, besides having a gravel area large enough to hold four cars, has a patch of weeds and grass not much larger than a parking space.   There is a nice old tree over the patch of grass that provides much needed shade, and I have a lovely view of the neighbor’s deck and asphalt driveway when I sit out there.  I have yet to garden the backyard, but have some potted herbs out the back door, along with some houseplants that are summering. 

It is in this environment, living with my partner, that I look for the good life.  A life lived with finesse and joie de vivre.   And the good life begins with the right attitude, and good food. 

As this blog has had many incarnations of many years, so have I.  Over the past year or so, I have indulged my passion for cooking and home culinary techniques greatly.   I have read a number of wonderful writers, writing about food and cooking, both in books, and on the net.   Some of food blogs that I read regularly are highlighted on the right side of this page. 

Cooking and eating does so much more than just provide us nutrition.  Both provide us with an opportunity to explore all of our senses, which connects us to ourselves.  Sharing a meal with others, connects us with friends and family.  What we cook and eat reminds us of where we came from, where we are, and where we are going.  

What we eat, tells a story about ourselves.