While some people are all freaked out about this tip from Lifehacker (fumes, pollution, etc.), I think it’s awesome look forward to getting all the grease off my tea kettle this weekend.

(Who looks forward to degreasing? I look forward to all kinds of intense cleaning when I have a million other things to do.)

My dream blog also has this to share. And so much more.  Just go over spend some time there if you haven’t already.

(Again, there is a certain pointlessness to this tip, but I’m so already boiling water.) 

First, I am a fan of MIA. Aurular is a great album to listen to while running. But you know what I really mean. It’s been a while since a good food photo or recipe.

Here’s the deal: between now and mid-December, school and my writing commitments are making my schedule a bit hectic. I don’t have time for impressive cooking. In fact, we’ve eaten pasta for dinner three times in the past week, twice involving a jar of ready-made marinara. Not worth writing home about, definitely not worth blogging about.

I’m sure that J-term will result in loads of fresh, homemade breads. That’s the goal, anyway. Also some short stories, but we’ll see.

So, we’re gonna shift gears and I’m just gonna post quick links to house spouse-y things I come across during my morning blog read.

This is not House Spouse in her Halloween costume.

Andrew’s on my case to hurry up this morning. I have a doctor’s appointment he’s gonna drive me to on his way to work. So my apologies or an abbreviated post about this simply delicious dessert.

I don’t follow a recipe when making crisps anymore, because I’ve made them so many times (using the More With Less recipe for Apple Crisp). They’re pretty impossible to screw up, anyway. Just cut together some brown sugar, rolled oats, butter or margarine and pinch of salt and you’ve got the crispy topping. I added some toasted hazelnuts that I processed in my mini food processor (the only one I own). Then, cut some fruit, stir it together with a little water (if your fruit isn’t already pretty juicy), flour, maybe some cinnamon and/or nutmeg, sugar and salt. Throw it into a casserole dish, sprinkle on the topping and bake for 35 minutes. Simple. If it doesn’t come out that crispy (this one didn’t), it will still be delicious. Spoon some vanilla ice cream on top, and you will be everyone’s best friend.

Above: the crisp before going into the oven. Right: my new pastry cutter.

So, originally I declared this week Soup Week, a week in which I would make a different soup each day. Problems arose immediately. The first was the amount of soup, because I planned on making a full pot each night, and there are only two of us here. I don’t have enough room in my freezer (or storage containers) for saving that much leftover soup. The second issue was that I haven’t been feeling well, mentally or physically. So, I began avoiding the kitchen by day two of Soup Week. Finally, none of the soups that I had on the menu were really doing it for me. Initially I was really inspired by the zucchini and pear soup recipe from the NY Times’ Mark Bittman last week, but the more I thought about it, the more repulsed I became. Which is weird, I know, because I’m the person who defends the practice of placing bacon on top warm, melt-y peanut butter on toast. Mere talk of flavor combos aren’t supposed to gross me out considering the words “Try it! You’ll like it!” could be (one of) my mantra(s).

So, now it’s Thursday. I’m still feeling meh, but the kitchen was calling to me. I walked in, proverbial tail between my legs, and said, “Sorry oven and stove top. Sorry tiny counter space. Sorry dishes, new bamboo cutting board, and extra special chef’s knife. I know I promised to hang out with you every day this week. Every day! But, sometimes, and you’re gonna learn this eventually so it might as well be from me, sometimes grown ups break promises.” And then I started dicing onions and slicing potatoes to make a rustic creamy corn and potato soup. Not the corn and chicken chowder you might already be familiar with. Nope, I didn’t use a recipe this time, but did take note of how much of everything I used in order to pass the recipe on. I also crumbled some chicken sausage, fried it, and sprinkled it on as garnish. (What’s with all the chicken sausage on everything? Yeah, so we got this Costco membership . . .)

Don’t you hate it when this happens? You are feeling inspired and confident and since you have some ingredients on hand, you decide to whip up a one-dish meal that’ll be so good, you know you’re gonna be bad and eat many dishes of it — in one sitting.

This happened to me last Saturday. I had a ton of spinach and baby portabella mushrooms that had to be used. I thought, in a Homer Simpson voice, “Mmmm, creamy pasta.” It was lunch time, and we usually make sandwiches for lunch on Saturdays. This would be a special treat. We’d even have wine. So I got to cooking.

I began by sauteeing onions, garlic, smoked chicken sausage and sliced mushrooms while I boiled water for the orzo. Then I wilted the spinach, set everything aside and started the sauce. (At this point, I put Andrew in charge of the orzo. He has an uncanny ability to cook pasta perfectly. I, on the other hand, do not. It’s always just overdone or just underdone.)  I made a basic cream sauce with chicken broth, white wine, half and half and skim milk.

I know right? What was I thinking?! Skim milk? I wasn’t, obviously, but I didn’t have whole milk or heavy cream, so this would have to do. I added asiago cheese, salt, pepper and nutmeg. Asiago was also a questionable choice, too because its flavor is so much smoother than other aged cheeses. I think that for this meal, in which the other ingredients were so mild, a stronger-flavored cheese would have helped out some. What I ended up with was a very pretty dish that kind of lacked in flavor and creaminess. The orzo was, of course, the perfect texture and the best part.

I think that if I hadn’t been so hungry by the time I was finished cooking, I could have helped the meal along by throwing it into a casserole dish, stirring in some more cheese (maybe even with some of the eleven thousand slices of Tillamook cheddar I’ve been cursed to endure after a recent trip to Costco) and topping it with buttered bread crumbs. It’s totally something Rachel Ray would do, right? And, it would make my Methodist in-laws proud. Save for the wine I used to make the sauce (and wash it down).

I want to add that I’m sorry for not posting for nearly a week. I haven’t been feeling well and actually haven’t really been cooking, despite determining that this week would be Soup Week. While I did churn out a potato leek soup on Monday, I’ve avoided the kitchen since then.

Behold the first meaty dish I’ve made in some time: Tacos de Tinga Pollo

On Monday, I was surprised by a buzz at the door. When I walked down the stairs to see who it was (our intercom system goes in and out…it was out that day), I discovered a package addressed to me at the bottom of the stairs. It was obviously from Amazon, and I had an idea that it was one of the cookbooks on my wish list. It was Rick Bayless’ Mexican Everyday, sent to me by Andrew’s parents. I imagine that they decided on this one after recalling the flank steak and poblano tacos I made for them when they visited in June. I also made a point of showing them all of the “exotic” and essential ingredients for Mexican cuisine I can find just a half-mile away at a Mexican grocery. It was a good choice on their part, and of course, I’ve already read through it, each and every page, including the introduction and index. OK, maybe not the index, but I definitely did sit down and read through all of the recipes and the introduction on Monday night before going to bed. And I decided which recipe I’d start with: Tacos de Tinga Poblana con Augacate y Queso Fresco. While Bayless’ recipe calls for boneless pork shoulder,
I used chicken breasts. Andrew ate pork tamales last night at Neuvo Leon and I wasn’t really up for pork tonight. I also did something a little questionable. Instead of buying some homemade (Mexican) chorizo to sprinkle on top, as the recipe suggests, I defrosted some soyrizo that I knew we had in the freezer. Like I said, questionable, but surprisingly good. Especially if you fry it up pretty crispy in some oil. It’s not like I was using it for my health after all, rather it was one less thing to buy (and carry home).

Again, I find myself writing this when it past my bed time, so I’ll post the recipe later in the week with some more thoughts and comments.

Andrew was wary when I bought figs last week. He said, “I don’t like that weird fig fruit spread that you and Johnna like. The seeds are weird.” I said, “You’ll like whatever I decide to make with these. I promise.”

And when I handed him a slice of warm Fig and Toasted Fennel Focaccia, he said, “Mmmm, this looks great!” But I could tell that he was suspicious. Then, he bit into it and raised his eyebrows in pleasant surprise. “Told you,” I thought, sing-songy in my head. His socks, however, were still on his feet, so I went into the fridge to find the saltiest thing I could find to compliment the slight sweetness of the bread. Kalamatas? No. Capers? Nope. Asiago cheese? Yikes, that’s been in there for a while. I need to pitch that. Ah ha. Chicken sausage. Yes, that will have to do. (I had looked at some pancetta yesterday while grocery shopping and decided against it. Now I wish I had picked it up.)

I sliced up the chicken sausage length-wise into about five or six pieces and grilled them in a hot pan. When the sausage was ready, I cut each piece in half and placed two smaller pieces next to each other on 2-inch x 2-inch squares of the flat bread. Then I brought this plate out for Andrew.

His response? “It’s like it’s my birthday, not yours! Thank you, thank you, thank you! This is amazing!” (It’s not actually my birthday until tomorrow.)

Again, I thought “I told you.”

Here’s the recipe. It’s somewhat of a hybrid between a recipe for Fig and Fennel Bread from Bon Appetit (which uses dried figs and untoasted fennel–is that a word? untoasted?) and Fresh Fig Focaccia from Cooking Light.