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The ritual scooping-out of the butternut squash Over the past few weeks, I’ve been cooking some squash-centric recipes, partly because the squash are out and about this time of year and cooking seasonally, beyond its current trendiness, proves quite practical in narrowing down the list of potential meal protagonists to a few targets theoretically guaranteed to be in their prime.

The other factor at play in the squash-focus is that October’s Canadian Thanksgiving provided an excellent way to the wet the new recipe feet, with November American Thanksgiving meal-making in mind.

For Canadian Thanksgiving this year, hosted by my (Canadian) friend Abby and her lovely husband Haaris, I brought a delicious savory bread pudding recipe from last month’s issue Bon Apetit, a Butternut Squash and Cheddar Bread Pudding.

What drew me to this recipe was the tantalizingly near-equal mix of fats, vegetables, and starch. By and large, the recipe delivered, though I may spice it a little bit more next time I make it. Red pepper flakes would add some nice bite. Tarragon and thyme would be good, too. Or, adding the surprisingly mellow (and pleasantly difficult-to-identify) knife-crushed anise seeds (plus the usual squash-spicing suspects of nutmeg, coriander, et al) of the second recipe I’m posting would be good, I think.

My only complaint is that if I’m cooking a dish with 2 1/4 cups of half-and-half, it really should taste as rich as it is: this recipe tasted deceptively low fat. It may have just needed a little more moisture, which could be solved by adding extra milk.

The assembled bread pudding, sans cheddar topping so to better show the other ingredients

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The second recipe, Roasted Corn Pudding in Acorn Squash, is also tasty and festive, and foregrounds the squash more than the pudding. I cooked this one because there was something delightfully old-fashioned and homey-sounding about corn pudding. Also, I had fresh corn, though frozen corn would work fine, I’m sure.

It didn’t blow my mind, but it was a very solid recipe, and satisfyingly unique. As is noted by Heidi on her recipe post on 101Cookbooks, the squash really does hold only a token amount of corn pudding, so another container for the leftovers  is almost required. To make this extras-cooking worth it, I’d make 1.5x what the recipe calls for.

Acorn squash, lovingly lubed with olive oil:

Acorn squash, lovingly lubed with olive oil

Roasting the squash before adding it later in the casserole is a little labor-intensive, but more aesthetically rewarding than most prep work

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The final product would have been more fetching not ringed by the lurid aluminum of a disposable pie pan:

 

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Nothing says vegetarian Thanksgiving quite like browned cheese.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In the spirit of the Native Americans with whom the first Thanksgiving was supposedly celebrated, do it Indians-style–a la putting all parts of a felled buffalo to good use–and toast the scooped-out squash seeds to tide you over while the pudding cooks: Rinse the gunk from the squash seeds in a colander and then array them on a foil-lined cookie sheet. Toss the seeds with oil, then sprinkle them with copious amounts of salt (or cinnamon-sugar) and bake for about 30 mins. at 300 degrees for a delicious  and high-protein snack. Or maybe look up another cooking method: I burnt mine. But ate around the blackened ones.

Mmmm…bear claws

This photo of (presumably local) ursine trophies comes from a taxidermy shop in Keene, off of Rte. 73 in the Adirondacks.

There were no corresponding breakfast pastries on hand, unfortunately, though I did pick up a horehound candy stick after being told its flavor was somewhere between root beer-a favorite-and licorice.

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Bear claws! Get your fresh, hot bear claws!

Try the Hushpuppies

With my mother coming to town in a few weeks, and my studio apartment–to lift one of her phrases–the size of a postage stamp, I’ve been scouting out NYC hotels, relying primarily on TripAdvisor’s user-generated comments and photos.

A write-up of boutique hotel chain Kimpton’s Times Square location, called The Muse, stopped me dead in my uncharitable, tourist-judging tracks with its gut-dancingly hilarious take on the hotel’s proximity to fine dining:

“Bubba Gump is my favorite resturant, which is in walking distance from the hotel. There is normally a 20 min wait–but it’s worth it (try the hushpuppies).”

And don’t forget to take the NJ Transit or LIRR out of the city first thing the next morning to sample Denny’s classic “Moons Over My Hammy!”

Snacks in the Kitchen

Since the dawn of time, man has asked himself, “What kinds of individually wrapped snacks does Katy keep in her kitchen?” Today: answers.
The thoroughly modern Caramel Apple pop: No muss, no fuss, no bulky apple!

The thoroughly modern Caramel Apple pop: No muss, no fuss, no bulky apple!

Pop Rocks. But X-treme. Now, in a tube-thing, not a rectangular packet for maximum snarf-age! Like Go-gurt. But not gooey.

Pop Rocks. But X-treme. Now, in a tube-thing, not a rectangular packet for maximum snarf-age! Like Go-gurt. But not gooey.

Leftover wholewheat saltines from my cheese plate on the train from DC to NYC. Positively at sea without its Baby Bel...

Leftover wholewheat saltines from my cheese plate on the train from DC to NYC. Positively at sea without its Baby Bel...

Whistle pops, worth their weight in tickets at Dave & Busters

Whistle pops, worth their weight in tickets at Dave & Busters

Compliments of Mama Ball before a recent flight back to NYC

Compliments of Mama Ball before a recent flight back to NYC

Carbon dating shows these raisins to have spontaneously began to exist in my kitchen circa dawn of time, i.e. genesis of snack queries regarding my kitchen

Carbon dating shows these raisins to have spontaneously begun to exist in my kitchen circa dawn of time, i.e. genesis of snack queries regarding my kitchen.

During a neighborhood wine run following a restaurant dinner at which my visiting sister ate naught but a side of broccoli rabe (while I made significant headway with a dish of fancy mac n’ cheese), a “$2 chicken nuggets” menu listing at a small, non-chain fast food-type place caught her eye. Stars were in the eyes. I tried to steer her to the whole chickens charring away on a grill inside thinking they’d be more like nice, real food, but her sights were set on those crispy nuggets. 25 grease-smoked minutes later we were headed back to to my apartment, nuggets and cheap champagne in hand.

We’d just bought a bottle of the stuff to celebrate the fact that champagne is good and we were together and wanted some drinks at home. The unexpected and perhaps a little chilling proposition of nugget paired with ‘pagne was too ripe for documentation to pass up, so I present here the evidence of possible folly, most visibly enjoyed:

M-Ball with her dinner spread

M-Ball with her dinner spread

Crispytime with bubbles.

Crispytime with bubbles.

Aaruul, Mongolian cheese

Aaruul, Mongolian cheese

Mongolia has been on my short list of countries to visit for a while, sandwiched tantalizingly as it is between the radically different cultures of Russia and China. Tonight I found a new reason why I have got to go: apparently dairy products–delicious, delicious dairy products–are a key component of the Mongolian diet, and a vital part of the country’s culture and traditions.

Conversely, the general absence of all things lactic from the Asian diet probably explains my lack of urgency about a visit to China or Southeast Asia. Not that I’m not suitably chastened by the observation–an excellent reason to write off a country, I know–but being excited to sample local foodstuffs, or at least theoretically on board with ingredients, can be a fun as well as sensible consideration when deciding where to travel.

Still: Yurts + ponies + cheese. Beguiling as hell.

Which raises the question: why haven’t I heard of people making cheese from horse milk? Someone’s got to be doing it. I see some evidence that horse milk cheese might be tangy and/or sour, but people enjoy all kinds of flavors and aromas from cheese, so that’s not a satisfying explanation for why it’s a virtual unknown.

I understand that some people don’t wIMG_1305ake up hungry, and think it’s weird to, but I really enjoy rolling out of bed with such an achievable, practical want, and find no cuisine as worth desiring in the morning as Mexican.

During my recent visit home to the Bay Area, I ate Mexican food for breakfast every day. Tragically–and tangentially–the only favorite food for which I didn’t have time was the Round Table green pepper pizza I usually carry onto the plane for the flight back to New York.

Tlaquepaque, in San Jose (there are 3 locations now), will have my heart forever for reasons including but not limited to their spicy but not deathly hot salsa and thick-cut, warm, fittingly greasy chips. I did however manage to try out another place on El Camino Real called Taqueria El Grullense (of which there are dozens in the area, though I don’t think it’s a chain). The standout there was huevos rancheros, for its tantalizing and unique sauce that hovered somewhere near the intersection of salsa fresca, buttery vegetable sautee, and enchilada sauce. I wasn’t able to get to it before my sister started, and I finished, the dish, so pictured are only our leavings.

Suburbia gets knocked around a fair bit in general conversation, but I find the possibility of pulling into a scalded-looking strip mall and eating at a great Mexican place, or even a great sushi spot, to be thrilling. Some much-lauded restaurants and sandwich counters in New York seem to receive extra marks for being unassuming in appearance, but it’s New York, how surprised can a person reasonablly claim to be by encountering a great restaurant? To not overlook a depressing strip mall takes a larger leap of faith, I’d say, and there are plenty in the Bay Area for the finding if you aren’t road-blinded by the admittedly steady stream of Taco Bells and Burger Kings.IMG_1293

IMG_1369While back in the Bay Area for a friend’s wedding, my sister and I were giving my other friend the world’s fastest, and probably shoddiest, tour of San Francisco. The lion’s share of it involved driving around Dolores Park (no parking spots…) and stopping for a beer at a nearby bar in the Castro.

Our beers were served on the rainbow-bedecked Bud Light beer mats you see here, which elicited an immediate internal WTF. A swathe o’ rainbow jauntily sweeping around the stick-straight man-hips of a bottle of Bud Light? “Be Yourself?” Seriously? Budweiser has historically marketed itself as the everyman’s beer, if not the rough and tumble working man’s beer, so I was surprised and somewhat amused to see them courting the gay bargoer so unabashedly, as if a critical mass of patrons’ entire previous collection of Bud associations might be blown away and scattered like dandelion fluff in the face of such a dazzle of LGBT identity-affirmation.

Spreading your branding messages a little thin, Bud Light. Just be yourself. Budweiser tastes better than PBR, anyway (at least in a can-to-can comparison).

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Puke in a Pot

Black beans and tofu make awkward bedfellows on their own.

Black beans and tofu, awkward bedfellows.

Call me confessional, but I occasionally feel the need to share my most orchestral of bad calls and so direct your attention to the accompanying photo:

No, an obese seagull with the trots did not waddle into my kitchen under cover of night to painfully relieve itself in my crockery. I simply made the unfortunate mistake of crumbling firm tofu into a pot of black beans, with a dash of cumin and garlic salt (no redemption there), for dinner one night.

Now, I usually like to think that I have something of an instinct for what can, and what probably should not, be combined, flavor-wise. Given this spectacular failure (that may seem obvious to some), I tried to put my finger on what exactly went so wrong, what particular factors elevated this meal from a vaguely unsatisfying one to such a virile gestalt of culinary horror?

Beyond the much-discussed visual aspect, the texture of the dish was all wrong: the wateriness of the bean mixture coupled with the graininess of the actual beans–which would usually be tasty, and convey wholesomeness–together with the lumpy slipperiness of the tofu was textural overload. I don’t think it helped that from a nutritional standpoint, I created a veritable protein Frankenstein: there’s just no call for that much protein, especially with so little fat and carbs to soften the edges, and create a varied and balanced meal.

So, lesson learned: Beans and tofu. Just say no. Or be sure to add lots of salsa and some corn (and maybe some sour cream, and chopped spinach?) to the mix and eat it with an oven-toasted tortilla, or some kind of carb, for god’s sake.

Lemon-Thyme Muffins

A friend turned me on to www.101cookbooks.com recently, which I hadn’t realized was the creation of one person (and just one facet of the very enviable life of blogger Heidi Swanson) because it comes up so high in search rankings when I lazily troll for recipes involving specific ingredients (versus going to an actual recipe site like www.epicurious.com). I was impressed by how cleanly executed and recipe-driven a food blog it is while still being quite personal. I was even more impressed–and by way more senses–by the revelation of a savory muffin recipe I found there.

Now, your regular savory muffin isn’t much to write home about: same basic ingredients as the sweet breakfast standard, but with blueberries swapped out in favor of, say, gruyere and grated zucchini. I don’t turn my nose up at that kind of muffin (though my torrid muffin phase did crest and taper off after age 15) so much as I’m uninspired by them, transparently composed cakelets that they are. So what’s so special about these muffins? They are really mini-quiches, for one, and are aggressively tasty and receptive to flavor experimentation. Secondly, they have cottage cheese and ground almonds as the base: not a combination I would have ever predicted, but the spongy density and general heft and richness were so right, I couldn’t believe I’d never used that kind of mixture as a base for anything before. Also, the fact that this is a “throw everything in the bowl and stir” recipe makes it really easy to make. A good hangover breakfast for the somewhat ambitious (grocery store trips can be prohibitive)!

I don’t even like cottage cheese, usually: it reminds me of the anthropological distance and wistful, lightly naseauating time travel that happens when I scan the diet plates section of the menu at old-fashioned diners. Cottage cheese, tomato slices, served on a bed of romaine with a fruit cup. Or cottage cheese served with bun-less burger patty which, even as a non-meat eater, makes my heart sad.

Ok, back to low-carb muffins. (Low carb for variety, not for low carb sake! I weary of my bread-as-first-fiddle sometimes.) Heidi suggests lots of different flavoring options from chipotle to pesto, but I was taken with the simplicity of chopped thyme and lemon zest. The original recipe calls for sun-dried tomatoes, but those chewy monsters–whose late 90’s omnipresence I’ve still not forgiven them for–are best substituted out. Even after day 3, I was only borderline weary of eating these, and the shredded broccoli and carrot slaw I made to go with them. (NB: 2 parts greek yogurt to one part sour cream with a little sugar and whole mustard makes a great mayo-free dressing for coleslaw-type chilled salads.)

Without further ado, here is the recipe, now twice-removed, from Rose Eliot’s Vegetarian Supercook. My notes are in somewhat alarming caps throughout (can’t find the font color option…):

Sun-dried Tomato Cottage Cheese Muffin Recipe

You can use the flour of your choice in this recipe. The original recipe calls for soy flour (great for people looking for a gluten-free option), I use white whole wheat flour – unbleached all-purpose flour will work as well. To grind the almonds I gave them a whirl in my food processor. You are looking for a flour-like consistency – be sure to stop short of turning them into an almond paste.

1 cup plain cottage cheese (low-fat is fine) TRUE
3/4 cup parmesan cheese, freshly grated I’M A CHEESE GLUTTON, AND YOU CAN USE LESS HAPPILY
1/4 cup flour (see headnotes)
1 cup almonds, very finely ground ALMOND FLOUR, 3/4 CUP, WORKED GREAT
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 cup sun-dried tomatoes (in oil), finely chopped
1/4 cup basil, finely chopped
1/4 cup water
4 eggs, lightly beaten
1/2 teaspoon salt

Preheat oven to 400F degrees. Line a muffin pan with medium-sized paper baking cups, you’ll need nine of them.

Put the cottage cheese into a bowl with all but 1/4 cup of the Parmesan cheese, the flour, ground almonds, baking powder, sun-dried tomatoes, basil, water, and eggs, and season with salt, then mix all together.

Spoon the mixture into the muffing cups 3/4 full, scatter with the remaining Parmesan, and bake for 30-35 minutes, or until set, risen, and golden brown. Serve as hot or at room temperature.

Makes 9 muffins. MY MIX MADE 12. I HAVE NO THEORIES ON THAT, THOUGH.

Here’s the link to the full recipe, post, and comments: http://www.101cookbooks.com/archives/cottage-cheese-muffins-recipe.html

The urge to make a wince-worthy thyme/time-related joke for closure is almost too much…Um, yay for a most welcome new (to me) breed of muffin?

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