Sunday, May 30, 2010
Saturday, May 29, 2010
The Soundtrack to My Summer (with video #1 of several)
(Videos will be appearing on my blog at random. Tracks in no particular order)
Dashboard Confessional: "Don't Wait"
Journey: "Don't Stop Believing"
Modest Mouse: "Float On"
The Killers: "Smile Like You Mean It"
Everything: "Hooch"
Green Day: "Whatsername"
Santana ft. Rob Thomas: "Smooth"
Finger 11: "One Thing"
Hot Action Cop: "In A Little While"
Our Lady Peace: "Somewhere Out There"
Sublime: "Badfish"
Silverchair: "Without You"
Fall Out Boy: "I've Got a Dark Alley and a Bad Idea That You Should Shut Your Mouth"
Something Corporate: "Fall"
Clutch: "Electric Worry"
The Dissociatives: "Horror With Eyeballs"
Brand New: "The Quiet Things No One Ever Knows"
Finch: "What It Is To Burn"
***The only criterion needed to make my soundtrack for any particular summer is that the song needs to "feel" like summer to me, for lack of a better way to phrase it. It should lift me up (whether the lyrical content is happy or depressing or completely random), and make me think of other summers. All of these songs do that.
Here's a video from my summer 2010 soundtrack.
Dashboard Confessional: "Don't Wait"
Journey: "Don't Stop Believing"
Modest Mouse: "Float On"
The Killers: "Smile Like You Mean It"
Everything: "Hooch"
Green Day: "Whatsername"
Santana ft. Rob Thomas: "Smooth"
Finger 11: "One Thing"
Hot Action Cop: "In A Little While"
Our Lady Peace: "Somewhere Out There"
Sublime: "Badfish"
Silverchair: "Without You"
Fall Out Boy: "I've Got a Dark Alley and a Bad Idea That You Should Shut Your Mouth"
Something Corporate: "Fall"
Clutch: "Electric Worry"
The Dissociatives: "Horror With Eyeballs"
Brand New: "The Quiet Things No One Ever Knows"
Finch: "What It Is To Burn"
***The only criterion needed to make my soundtrack for any particular summer is that the song needs to "feel" like summer to me, for lack of a better way to phrase it. It should lift me up (whether the lyrical content is happy or depressing or completely random), and make me think of other summers. All of these songs do that.
Here's a video from my summer 2010 soundtrack.
Navel-Gazing
I've seen and done many things in the past twenty-seven, nearly twenty-eight years. I've lived all over the northern portion of this state. I've burned more bridges, both deliberately and accidentally, than I can remember. While I am not haunted by my past, there are certain nights where I can feel it swirling around me, thick enough to breathe in, a taste on my tongue like the ghosts of all the cigarettes I've smoked, all the hard alcohol I've consumed.
I miss aimless late night drives behind the wheel of my old Chevy Cavalier, arm draped out the window, headlights cutting through the fog as another sad acoustic song played on my stereo and I sang along.
I miss walking through razor-edged grass near my childhood home, bare feet on warm sand, as the sun set over Lake Michigan and my body was surrounded in the borrowed golden glow reflecting from beach and water.
I miss sitting outside my apartment down on Clarion, lighting a new cigarette from the butt of the old one, riding high on an intoxication born of youth and love and copious amounts of Captain Morgan's.
I miss walking home from the pub at two in the morning, confident in the amount of space my body occupied, stomach flat and tanned, shoulders broad, the smell of the asphalt rising up through a humid July night in this small town.
I miss looking up through the lilac streaks in my once-long hair, not in a flirtatious way, but in a questioning one.
Going back further, I miss cradling my guitar against my chest and belly in the days when I still played. I miss B.'s overnights at my house, when he'd play "Hotel California" and we'd both sing. I miss sneaking cd's to J. and hoping his mother wouldn't find out.
I miss making snow forts out of the giant piles created by the plow when they came to clear our driveway, the way the cold never seemed to touch me until I went inside. Running down a dirt road, then cutting through the woods to get to the beach, calloused feet oblivious to the stones and sticks.
I miss the days of being responsible only to and for myself, the freedom of being single and broke but capable of working whatever hours were necessary, however many jobs it took to get what I needed.
I miss sitting down at the pub and staring into Jeremy's eyes as we got progressively more and more drunk, then walking out, stopping at 7/11 for cigarettes and snacks, and making our way home, sometimes with friends, sometimes not. Nights spent sitting in my unfurnished living room, an afternoon lying on the floor listening to Bill Hicks, that sexual tension between us thick and heavy.
There are so many things I miss, and yet, I doubt I'd go back and relive them, for fear of messing up my chances to get to where I am now.
I miss a lot. But every bridge burned, from my first conscious decision to cut some unhealthy tie, to the events of the past few days, has been for my good, and while I spend my introspective moments looking back on my past, examining every path that's parted from mine of my accord, I refuse to feel grief, and I refuse to question those decisions.
They are in my best interest.
I miss aimless late night drives behind the wheel of my old Chevy Cavalier, arm draped out the window, headlights cutting through the fog as another sad acoustic song played on my stereo and I sang along.
I miss walking through razor-edged grass near my childhood home, bare feet on warm sand, as the sun set over Lake Michigan and my body was surrounded in the borrowed golden glow reflecting from beach and water.
I miss sitting outside my apartment down on Clarion, lighting a new cigarette from the butt of the old one, riding high on an intoxication born of youth and love and copious amounts of Captain Morgan's.
I miss walking home from the pub at two in the morning, confident in the amount of space my body occupied, stomach flat and tanned, shoulders broad, the smell of the asphalt rising up through a humid July night in this small town.
I miss looking up through the lilac streaks in my once-long hair, not in a flirtatious way, but in a questioning one.
Going back further, I miss cradling my guitar against my chest and belly in the days when I still played. I miss B.'s overnights at my house, when he'd play "Hotel California" and we'd both sing. I miss sneaking cd's to J. and hoping his mother wouldn't find out.
I miss making snow forts out of the giant piles created by the plow when they came to clear our driveway, the way the cold never seemed to touch me until I went inside. Running down a dirt road, then cutting through the woods to get to the beach, calloused feet oblivious to the stones and sticks.
I miss the days of being responsible only to and for myself, the freedom of being single and broke but capable of working whatever hours were necessary, however many jobs it took to get what I needed.
I miss sitting down at the pub and staring into Jeremy's eyes as we got progressively more and more drunk, then walking out, stopping at 7/11 for cigarettes and snacks, and making our way home, sometimes with friends, sometimes not. Nights spent sitting in my unfurnished living room, an afternoon lying on the floor listening to Bill Hicks, that sexual tension between us thick and heavy.
There are so many things I miss, and yet, I doubt I'd go back and relive them, for fear of messing up my chances to get to where I am now.
I miss a lot. But every bridge burned, from my first conscious decision to cut some unhealthy tie, to the events of the past few days, has been for my good, and while I spend my introspective moments looking back on my past, examining every path that's parted from mine of my accord, I refuse to feel grief, and I refuse to question those decisions.
They are in my best interest.
Friday, May 28, 2010
One Way To Achieve Temporary Tranquility
There's a world of difference between cooking at home and cooking professionally. I spent ten years of my life - well over a third - in professional kitchens, doing everything from washing dishes to prep work to desserts to single stations to swing and float. (Float, aka all-around, meant that on busy nights, rather than have an assigned station, meant I ran around the kitchen and bailed out anyone in danger of going into the weeds. Swing, to put it simply, meant that I covered the station of whichever cook had the day off.) I've worked brunches, lunches, and dinners. I've worked in high-volume kitchens and kitchens where a good day's take was 350 covers. It's intense. You get burned, cut - my hands and arms still have scars, nearly ten months after leaving my last position. Every movement needs to be precisely calculated for speed, agility, and grace, while be being economic - after all, coffee and Red Bull will only get you so high on caffeine before you crash. It's crazy, it's hectic, it's harsh and unforgiving. Part of me misses it.
Cooking at home is a different story entirely. At home, I achieve a state of calm usually only attained by a large dose of Xanax. It's my home kitchen. I listen to the music I want, the counters are at a proper height for me, my standard four-burner gas stove and oven are familiar to me, my pots and pans are great non-stick non-Teflon (a Christmas gift from Jeremy's dad and stepmom three years ago), and there's no pressure, no machine spitting tickets or irritated expediters telling me to hold or fire on salads for table 409.
I love the challenge of buying cheap, tough cuts of meat and doing something other than stew them. Being in dire need of some tranquility today, I got in the kitchen and did some messing.
First step: I pulled out three chunks of bottom round. The butcher had sliced them in such a way as to make them unsuitable for grilling. I used one of my favorite knives, one that I highly recommend to everyone, to slice the meat cross-grain on the bias.
8 1/2" high carbon molybdenum vanadium steel blade, anti-stick coating, super-light, high clearance to avoid knuckle bumping
I set the meat aside. In a medium sized sauce pot, I placed fresh rosemary, two crushed cloves of garlic, a single juniper berry, some freshly ground black pepper, and a few shots of balsamic vinegar. I then filled the pot 3/4 full of beef stock. I brought it to a boil, boiled it for ten minutes or so, then turned off the heat and let it sit.
After turning off the heat under my jus, I melted butter in a large, heavy skillet over medium heat. Once the butter had foamed and subsided, I browned my strips of bottom round, after seasoning with kosher salt and some freshly ground black pepper. Once the meat was browned, I placed it in the pot with the jus in it, then sampled a piece. Tasty, flavorful, but very chewy and tough. No biggie. I turned the heat under the jus up to medium-high and brought it to a rolling boil. While the meat boiled in its sauce, I threw some butter into a smaller, heavy skillet, turned the flame to medium high, and melted it. Again, I waited for it to foam and subside. Once it had, I added sliced white button mushrooms, added a pinch of salt, and sauteed them till they were dark golden brown on both sides.
I turned off the heat under both skillet and pot. We placed meat on soft white rolls, Jeremy added his mushrooms, we each added a slice of mozzarella cheese, ladeled out small bowls of jus for dipping, and feasted.
This is one of my favorite things to cook. Stripping rosemary leaves from their stems, slicing the meat and the mushrooms, tasting, correcting seasoning, tasting again... We have a curtain over the kitchen door. Its intended purpose is to keep the cool air from our window A/C unit in the living room and bedrooms. It also serves well to muffle sounds. So while Jeremy was watching wrestling on his computer and the boys were playing and watching kids' movies on the TV, I was in the kitchen listening to a mix of Journey, Green Day, and The Killers, singing along, and not allowing my brain to process anything. I've made these sandwiches so often that I don't have to think about what I'm doing. It's the closest I can get to autopilot, and being on autopilot for an hour or so was exactly what I needed. Yes, I could have boiled the jus while I browned the meat and saved some time, it's true. But I did it the way I did it for the simple reason that I was at home, I didn't have a ticket time I was trying to achieve, and I was relaxing. Those sandwiches gave me peace, relaxation, and inner quiet.
Plus, they were damn tasty.
Cooking at home is a different story entirely. At home, I achieve a state of calm usually only attained by a large dose of Xanax. It's my home kitchen. I listen to the music I want, the counters are at a proper height for me, my standard four-burner gas stove and oven are familiar to me, my pots and pans are great non-stick non-Teflon (a Christmas gift from Jeremy's dad and stepmom three years ago), and there's no pressure, no machine spitting tickets or irritated expediters telling me to hold or fire on salads for table 409.
I love the challenge of buying cheap, tough cuts of meat and doing something other than stew them. Being in dire need of some tranquility today, I got in the kitchen and did some messing.
First step: I pulled out three chunks of bottom round. The butcher had sliced them in such a way as to make them unsuitable for grilling. I used one of my favorite knives, one that I highly recommend to everyone, to slice the meat cross-grain on the bias.
8 1/2" high carbon molybdenum vanadium steel blade, anti-stick coating, super-light, high clearance to avoid knuckle bumping
I set the meat aside. In a medium sized sauce pot, I placed fresh rosemary, two crushed cloves of garlic, a single juniper berry, some freshly ground black pepper, and a few shots of balsamic vinegar. I then filled the pot 3/4 full of beef stock. I brought it to a boil, boiled it for ten minutes or so, then turned off the heat and let it sit.
After turning off the heat under my jus, I melted butter in a large, heavy skillet over medium heat. Once the butter had foamed and subsided, I browned my strips of bottom round, after seasoning with kosher salt and some freshly ground black pepper. Once the meat was browned, I placed it in the pot with the jus in it, then sampled a piece. Tasty, flavorful, but very chewy and tough. No biggie. I turned the heat under the jus up to medium-high and brought it to a rolling boil. While the meat boiled in its sauce, I threw some butter into a smaller, heavy skillet, turned the flame to medium high, and melted it. Again, I waited for it to foam and subside. Once it had, I added sliced white button mushrooms, added a pinch of salt, and sauteed them till they were dark golden brown on both sides.
I turned off the heat under both skillet and pot. We placed meat on soft white rolls, Jeremy added his mushrooms, we each added a slice of mozzarella cheese, ladeled out small bowls of jus for dipping, and feasted.
This is one of my favorite things to cook. Stripping rosemary leaves from their stems, slicing the meat and the mushrooms, tasting, correcting seasoning, tasting again... We have a curtain over the kitchen door. Its intended purpose is to keep the cool air from our window A/C unit in the living room and bedrooms. It also serves well to muffle sounds. So while Jeremy was watching wrestling on his computer and the boys were playing and watching kids' movies on the TV, I was in the kitchen listening to a mix of Journey, Green Day, and The Killers, singing along, and not allowing my brain to process anything. I've made these sandwiches so often that I don't have to think about what I'm doing. It's the closest I can get to autopilot, and being on autopilot for an hour or so was exactly what I needed. Yes, I could have boiled the jus while I browned the meat and saved some time, it's true. But I did it the way I did it for the simple reason that I was at home, I didn't have a ticket time I was trying to achieve, and I was relaxing. Those sandwiches gave me peace, relaxation, and inner quiet.
Plus, they were damn tasty.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Ricotta and Ravioli Recipes
Ricotta Cheese:
1 gallon whole milk (will make about 1 lb of cheese)
1/4 cup white vinegar
a large colander lined with fine cheesecloth or butter muslin. may use
ham bag or jelly bag in a pinch
Pour milk into large non-reactive pot. Heat SLOWLY to 200 degrees,
using candy thermometer to check temperature. Once milk hits 200
degrees, add vinegar. Milk should instantly separate. If it doesn't,
continue to heat. Once it's ready, it will react nearly instantly.
Once it separates, remove from heat and let sit 5-10 minutes, giving
it an occasional stir. Place lined colander in sink over open drain
and slowly pour contents of pot into it. Do not skim anything off! Let
sit over drain till cloth is cool enough to handle. Gather the ends of
the cloth up and tie into a bag which must be suspended over the sink
until it stops dripping. Let drain about an hour. Add salt if you
like. If you are using for a dessert such as cannoli, mix in some
heavy cream and stir well. Store in a tightly sealed container in the
fridge for up to three days, or freeze.
Easy Homemade Ravioli:
pasta dough:
2 1/2 cups AP flour, plus extra for dusting
1 cup very hot water
pasta filling:
3/4 cup whole milk ricotta
1 egg
1/4 cup grated parmesan
2 tbsp fresh finely chopped basil leaves
1/2 tsp salt
1/4 tsp freshly ground black pepper
For the dough:
Combine flour and water in large mixing bowl. Using a wooden spoon,
stir to combine into a large ball. Cover with plastic wrap and let sit
for 10 minutes.
For the filling:
Combine all the ingredients in a medium bowl and stir to combine.
To form the ravioli, cut the dough into 4 evenly sized pieces. The
dough should be slightly sticky. Add extra flour as necessary for
rolling, but use only a little as necessary. Form each piece into a 2
by 6-inch rectangle. Recover the dough with the plastic wrap.
Lightly dust the work surface and a rolling pin. Working with 1 piece
of dough at a time, roll the dough into a 4 by 19-inch rectangle.
Place 9 rounded teaspoons of filling about 1-inch apart down the
center of the dough. Fold the dough over the filling. Press down
around the edges of each of the ravioli with your fingertips. Cut the
ravioli into small squares and press down around the edges again with
your fingertips to seal. Place the finished ravioli on a baking tray
and continue forming the remaining ravioli.
Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil over high heat. Add half
the ravioli and cook until the ravioli float stirring occasionally,
about 3 to 4 minutes. Drain into a large bowl and cook the remaining
ravioli.
1 gallon whole milk (will make about 1 lb of cheese)
1/4 cup white vinegar
a large colander lined with fine cheesecloth or butter muslin. may use
ham bag or jelly bag in a pinch
Pour milk into large non-reactive pot. Heat SLOWLY to 200 degrees,
using candy thermometer to check temperature. Once milk hits 200
degrees, add vinegar. Milk should instantly separate. If it doesn't,
continue to heat. Once it's ready, it will react nearly instantly.
Once it separates, remove from heat and let sit 5-10 minutes, giving
it an occasional stir. Place lined colander in sink over open drain
and slowly pour contents of pot into it. Do not skim anything off! Let
sit over drain till cloth is cool enough to handle. Gather the ends of
the cloth up and tie into a bag which must be suspended over the sink
until it stops dripping. Let drain about an hour. Add salt if you
like. If you are using for a dessert such as cannoli, mix in some
heavy cream and stir well. Store in a tightly sealed container in the
fridge for up to three days, or freeze.
Easy Homemade Ravioli:
pasta dough:
2 1/2 cups AP flour, plus extra for dusting
1 cup very hot water
pasta filling:
3/4 cup whole milk ricotta
1 egg
1/4 cup grated parmesan
2 tbsp fresh finely chopped basil leaves
1/2 tsp salt
1/4 tsp freshly ground black pepper
For the dough:
Combine flour and water in large mixing bowl. Using a wooden spoon,
stir to combine into a large ball. Cover with plastic wrap and let sit
for 10 minutes.
For the filling:
Combine all the ingredients in a medium bowl and stir to combine.
To form the ravioli, cut the dough into 4 evenly sized pieces. The
dough should be slightly sticky. Add extra flour as necessary for
rolling, but use only a little as necessary. Form each piece into a 2
by 6-inch rectangle. Recover the dough with the plastic wrap.
Lightly dust the work surface and a rolling pin. Working with 1 piece
of dough at a time, roll the dough into a 4 by 19-inch rectangle.
Place 9 rounded teaspoons of filling about 1-inch apart down the
center of the dough. Fold the dough over the filling. Press down
around the edges of each of the ravioli with your fingertips. Cut the
ravioli into small squares and press down around the edges again with
your fingertips to seal. Place the finished ravioli on a baking tray
and continue forming the remaining ravioli.
Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil over high heat. Add half
the ravioli and cook until the ravioli float stirring occasionally,
about 3 to 4 minutes. Drain into a large bowl and cook the remaining
ravioli.
Blargh
Tonight's post was meant to be a real introspective one, the kind of cringe inducing too-personal writing that I excel at. But it's 4:30 in the morning and my boys just now fell asleep, so it won't be happening till tomorrow. I'm sorry. I promise it'll be up tomorrow, along with my ricotta and ravioli recipes (I know you're looking forward to those, Rose!) For now, I've got a belly full of pasta, my herbal muscle relaxers are kicking in (Hyland's Calms Forte, for anyone else with back/hip issues like I have. They're great if you're one of the uninsured like me, who can't afford to get into the doctor for anything non-life-threatening. I picked up a month's supply at Meijer for $4.95.), and I've got a busy day ahead of me tomorrow - we're getting ready to rip out the carpet and see what lies beneath. Fingers crossed I can sleep in a bit - the relief of knowing Grandpa is out of the hospital and at home, and the relief from finally being able to get Jonah in for his consult with the surgeon, have combined to make these shoulders a little lighter, and I'm thankful.
Mom, Dad, Mary, Diddy, Phil, Rose, Aimee, Mat, Betina, and as always Jeremy, thanks for being reminders that it's good to get out of my head once in a while (although being in my head helps with the blog posts). I love you all.
Mom, Dad, Mary, Diddy, Phil, Rose, Aimee, Mat, Betina, and as always Jeremy, thanks for being reminders that it's good to get out of my head once in a while (although being in my head helps with the blog posts). I love you all.
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Marinara Sauce
Marinara
*sorry I don't have exact measurements on this one, it's just something I taught myself how to do, out of a profound dislike of canned foods
Bring a large pot of water to a boil. Have another large pot of ice water ready next to it.
Using a wok spider or a strainer insert, lower several large tomatoes into the boiling water. Cook for four minutes, then immediately submerge them into the ice water.
Gently, using your bare hands, rub the tomatoes. The skin should slip right off.
Cut your peeled tomatoes into large rough chunks. If you don't want the seeds, pick them out, but save as much of the pulp and juice as possible.
In a large heavy skillet, heat a few tbsp of olive oil over medium heat till it shimmers. Saute 3 minced shallots and 2 minced cloves of garlic till translucent.
Reduce heat to low-medium-low and add your tomato chunks. Add 1/8 cup white wine or rose. Add 3 cups BOTTLED (not canned)
tomato juice. Cook fifteen minutes, stirring frequently.
While that's cooking, mince 2/3 oz fresh basil and 2/3 oz fresh rosemary. Strip the leaves from 2/3 oz fresh thyme. Add to pan.
Using a slotted spoon or potato masher (or immersion blender, if you have one), crush the tomatoes, stirring with your mashing
tool as you do so. Once you have a more or less smooth mixture, cook another five minutes.
Increase the heat to medium-low and cook, stirring occasionally, until sauce has reduced to desired thickness. Serve immediately.
***I like this with my homemade ravioli, but Jeremy's had it on spaghetti too.
*sorry I don't have exact measurements on this one, it's just something I taught myself how to do, out of a profound dislike of canned foods
Bring a large pot of water to a boil. Have another large pot of ice water ready next to it.
Using a wok spider or a strainer insert, lower several large tomatoes into the boiling water. Cook for four minutes, then immediately submerge them into the ice water.
Gently, using your bare hands, rub the tomatoes. The skin should slip right off.
Cut your peeled tomatoes into large rough chunks. If you don't want the seeds, pick them out, but save as much of the pulp and juice as possible.
In a large heavy skillet, heat a few tbsp of olive oil over medium heat till it shimmers. Saute 3 minced shallots and 2 minced cloves of garlic till translucent.
Reduce heat to low-medium-low and add your tomato chunks. Add 1/8 cup white wine or rose. Add 3 cups BOTTLED (not canned)
tomato juice. Cook fifteen minutes, stirring frequently.
While that's cooking, mince 2/3 oz fresh basil and 2/3 oz fresh rosemary. Strip the leaves from 2/3 oz fresh thyme. Add to pan.
Using a slotted spoon or potato masher (or immersion blender, if you have one), crush the tomatoes, stirring with your mashing
tool as you do so. Once you have a more or less smooth mixture, cook another five minutes.
Increase the heat to medium-low and cook, stirring occasionally, until sauce has reduced to desired thickness. Serve immediately.
***I like this with my homemade ravioli, but Jeremy's had it on spaghetti too.
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