CTN: Lentil "Soup"

The fact this lentil soup was made in time for today's blog post is a miracle. I had no time on the weekend, and the week was looking bad for cooking. A last-minute cancellation of our usual Wednesday Girl Scout meeting meant I had time to get this done. It was actually a bigger project than I expected when I read the recipe, although pretty straightforward. The procurement of the lentils, however, was a story about the oddity of people.

I started working for Jim Hoey on 2/15/1989. Twenty three years ago. On Valentine's Day, Jim decided we would go out for lunch. We went to a new natural foods restaurant--which is next door to a natural foods store. I told Jim I was going to duck in there and see if they had red lentils. They had crimson lentils--$5.00 for a tiny bag. I bought them, and gave them a prominent place on the lunch table so I wouldn't forget them.

We got to talking, I lost my focus on the lentils, and the bus boy came to clear the table. I clearly remember that it was strange that the only thing left on the table after he left was my water glass. This seemed vaguely wrong, but my mind was not connecting the dots. When I got back to the office, I realized that he had cleared my lentils. I called the restaurant and asked if they had them. They did, and they would be waiting for me at the counter.

I went back a few hours later, only to be told that a man "wearing a suit, balding, and with glasses," came in and picked them up "for you." Nobody I knew. Honestly--who does that? Who sees a bag of lentils behind the counter at a restaurant and says "Those are my lentils, can you please give them to me?" Really?!

So I spent $10 on the lentils. They had better be good.

And I thought they were. This wasn't soup at all. This was lentils and rice. With onions. Lots of onions. Since I'm not a fan of onions at all, I was skeptical that I would enjoy this with all of the onions. Since the onions were caramelized, they were really good. They weren't crispy, but they were pretty darn tasty. I enjoyed the mix of spices (including the cinnamon stick, which apparently wasn't a favorite of Maria or Michelle). I made the buttery flat bread suggested as an accompaniment. Yum. Natalie and Cassandra also liked this. Pete, who again came home late after having dinner with Samantha, thought the house smelled terrible (the onions, I guess). 

And the leftovers were delicious for breakfast, as Melissa suggested.

My photography still needs work.  I tried to make this look beautiful. Not.

My ingredients. Note the tiny $5 bag of lentils. And I used the greens that came in my CSA bag.

This is A LOT of ginger!

And a lot of onions!

Bonus pictures:  Cassandra's cheese plate and my favorite new vegetable-the romanesco. A perfect example of a fractal and the Fibonacci number. Too perfect to eat. I'm obsessed with this vegetable.

(On  a side note, I can't figure out how to position photos where I want them to be. It is annoying me.)

CTN: Parsnip Soup

One of my maxims is that if you have no-to-low expectations for things (movies, vacations, restaurants, etc.), then you will almost always be pleasantly surprised. Thus was my experience with this soup.

I am certain I don't like parsnips. My grandfather, Pete, loved parsnips. I clearly remember bowls of whipped parsnips at family gatherings. And remember thinking that the contents of those bowls were suspect and not to be consumed by me. And I was a lover of all things vegetable. In fact, I am pretty certain that the only vegetables I don't like are parsnips and lima beans.

So I was happy when my first foray to the farmers' market yielded no parsnips. It was looking good for substituting something I like, such as carrots.

I'm not one to give up, however. I knew they would have parsnips at Chino's--which isn't too far from my office. I was prepared to pay the premium for Chino's parsnips. Plus, that would give me street cred. As it turned out, I didn't have to pay that price. I found parsnips.

The search for parsnips, as well as the other ingredients in this soup, taught me few lessons. One: Don't forget to take pictures. The parsnips had beautiful foliage which was photo-worthy. Two: Don't forget about the middle-eastern market. It has EVERYTHING.

Looking at my schedule for the week, I knew that the only day I had available to make this soup (and to bake the White Loaves for TWD:BWJ) was Sunday. I got up bright and early on Sunday and made the bread dough. As soon as the dough was in the bowl to rise, I ran out to the farmers' market. I'm pretty sure I was the first customer. I scoured the farmer's market with my list: parsnips, leeks, celery, thyme, garlic, pumpernickel. Leeks, celery, and garlic were easy to find. But there were no parsnips, no thyme, and no pumpernickel.

In desperation, I asked one of my favorite vendors about parsnips. "Parsnips?" he asked. "Nobody ever wants those. But yes, I believe I have a few in my truck. We decided this is the last year we will grow them." He pulled a big bunch of parsnips out of the truck. As I said, the foliage was spectacular. Not so the disgusting looking tubers at the end of the foliage. He GAVE me the parsnips.

Parsnips in hand, I jammed over to the middle eastern market. I was worried that my bread was overtaking the bowl and spilling onto the floor, so I needed to rush. I LOVE this market. It closed for a little while and I had not returned once it reopened. Why? Where else can you find a counter where there is nothing but different types of baklava? Or vats of olives? Or 10 different kinds of feta? I wanted it all. I walked over to the spices to look for Aleppo pepper. As I did, I spied the beautiful parsnips in the produce aisle. I could have bought everything at Vine Ripe! Who knew? After carefully analyzing my many options for Aleppo/Turkish pepper (all of which involved a large quantity of pepper), and procuring the smallest loaf imaginable of pumpernickel bread, sans caraway seeds, I returned to my bread dough (which was fine).


Making the soup wasn't as full of adventure as procuring the ingredients. I did make homemade vegetable stock, which was delicious in its own right. I made the recipe exactly as written except I believe I used a few more potatoes than the recipe called for (I had a bag of potatoes that were covered in little spider-sprouts--they needed to be used.)

My celery was a bit aggressive, as can be seen by my horribly tied bouquet garni. I didn't have twine so tried to tie it together with thread. It didn't work. I had to fish this stuff out. Fortunately, my celery leaves were huge



And here is the final soup. Not a very good picture. The soup itself was the consistency of baby food. But it was delicious, especially drizzled with excellent olive oil and liberally sprinkled with the Aleppo pepper. Everybody loved it.

TWD:Baking with Julia--White Loaves

I was very excited that the TWD group chose "Baking with Julia," because I had baked my way through much of this book when it was first published in the 1990s. My family was struggling financially at the time, and I was making almost everything from scratch. With 2 young children, bread was a constant. So these White Loaves were pretty much a staple recipe.

I have not made these in years, so it was a pleasure to go back to this recipe. During my former bread-baking days, I always kneaded my bread by hand because I had a lot of stress to get out of my system and the kneading was very therapeutic. I went back and forth trying to decide whether to do that this time, but the machine won out. It was funny--I've had this KitchenAid mixer for over 25 years, but I think I have only used the dough hook two or three times before.

Action shot of the dough trying to escape the bowl.

After mixing the dough, I put the dough in the "herp room"--otherwise known as Natalie's room-- to rise. I have a Red-Tailed Boa Constrictor, who needs an ambient temperature of 80 degrees, so this one room in our house is always 80--perfect for bread rising. I ran out to the Farmers' Market, and when I came back, the dough had risen very nicely. I punched it down and divided it up into loaves. This is when I discovered I only had one regular loaf pan. I guess it has been a while since I have made bread regularly. I have also given away a lot of my kitchen equipment. I found a weirdly-shaped loaf pan and figured it would do.

Here are my lovely loaves before baking. I decided that I liked the weirdly-shaped pan at this point. It made a nicely shaped loaf of bread.

And here are the baked loaves. I took the shorter, squatter loaf to a Super Bowl party. Bread is a very strange thing to bring to a Super Bowl party. The hostess, however, had just bought some delicious strawberry-rhubarb jam, and we polished off the loaf. The second loaf we ate with dinner the next night, with a little left over for toast.

These White Loaves were exactly what I remembered them to be. The type of homemade bread that my mom made in the 60s and 70s. A somewhat plain, but very delicious loaf of bread.

Some Girl Scouts, a baby, and a Pomeranian go for a walk

As part of the celebration of the 100th anniversary of Girl Scouts, Troop 3116 has organized 100K of hikes. The number of participants dropped dramatically once the hikes were more than 5 miles. Normally, it is only Lisa, me, Natalie, Jessica, and Wendy and/or India.
Today's hike was Mt. Woodson. Our crew was Lisa, me, Natalie, Jessica, Wendy and India, Bob, Tara, Nora (the baby--she is actually 3) and Kirby (the Pomeranian). This is the third time that Wendy and I have done this hike.  I really like it because it is difficult, but not too difficult. Jerry Schad says that it is "moderately strenuous." That is a good characterization. The trail is an out-and-back 6.8 mile trek through chapparal. The payoff is an incredible view on top of a mountain which is bristling with radio towers. Great view; ugly surroundings.
And it was another spectacular day in San Diego. The temperature when we started was 62, and it was sunny and clear. There was a junior fishing tournament going on at Lake Poway--so parking was at a premium.

 The hike skirts around Lake Poway.

 There are actually super nice bathrooms along the trail. You can see one behind Lisa. Natalie was feeling good about life at this point. We had maybe gone 1/2 mile.

The Girl Scouts plus Kirby with Lake Poway in the background.

We apparently ignored the part of this sign that said 2.9 miles to the summit. Too busy taking the picture.

 All the girls with the 2.9 miles to the summit sign.

 And here is Tara with Nora. She carried this 25-pound child up and down the 6.8-mile trail. It was incredible.

 The ceonothus were in bloom and very beautiful. There were plants with white flowers and plants with purple flowers. I didn't capture how beautiful they were.

 Mt. Woodson is fun because of all the rocks.

Beautiful view to the west. That is the ocean off in the distance.

 Natalie started feeling bad shortly after the picture with the sign. She is feeling really bad in this picture. But she wasn't going to turn back because she needed the miles. Wonder where she gets that.

 This is my favorite place on the Mt. Woodson trail. It is a beautiful tree surrounded my rocks and there is a spectacular view. It is the kind of place that makes you think that you probably have gone far enough. But you know you haven't.

 It was a complete surprise to us that we still had this far to go. We had apparently ignored all of the prior signs.

 Lisa took a nice picture of Natalie and India hugging the cold rock. I took a picture from the other side.

 Cool rock formation. I wanted to go climb it.

 The "potato chip." There was actually a line of people waiting to stand on this rock.

I elected not to take a picture of the top bristling with radio towers. And my view photos were too view-y.

Jerry Schad says this hike take 4 1/2 hours. His time predictions are almost always spot-on for us. We left the parking lot a little after 8:30. We took our time getting to the top, stopping several times for snacks and stopping at the top for a nice break. And we were back to our cars right at 1:00.

 Natalie was feeling much better at the bottom and went to hug the cat.

Everybody else came over to hug the cat too. Even Nora.

It was a fun hike. It was, however, uneventful. We have found that eventful hikes are the ones we remember the most. This was just a moderately-strenuous hike on a beautiful, sunny San Diego day.

CTN: Garlicky Squid

I have never, ever cooked a squid before. I have been cooking consistently since 1978, and I have never cooked a single squid. I have eaten a lot of squid. Some of it has been horrible, some of it has been decent, and some (like the Calamari at The Prado) has been amazing. I was very worried that my first attempt at making squid would end up like the horrible squid I have had. I was pretty sure this would turn out like little garlicky rubber-bands.

Which is the reason I picked this recipe. While deceptively simple, I figured it would have a huge downside if not done correctly.

The seafood market had both "tubes and tentacles" and "steaks." I elected "tubes and tentacles." Knowing that many in my family would not eat this, I also picked up a loaf of fish market bread. Fish markets always have the best sourdough.

Here are my ingredients. Not all the squid is depicted here (some of it made a break for it and swam down the drain while I was rinsing the squid) but it is a good representation of tubes and tentacles. And I decided not to buy fresh herbs, but simply use the "floppy" herbs that came in my CSA bag. One of those floppy herbs was parsley. I really don't know what the other one is.

Here is a picture of the little rings of squid bubbling away in their garlicky, buttery sauce. Yum.

And here it is plated with the Israeli couscous and a side salad.

Natalie and Cassandra don't like calamari. They ate the couscous with the sauce, which they loved, plus each tried the rings of squid. They still don't like squid. The bread was, as expected, great.

Pete had gone out to eat with Sam so he wasn't hungry. He didn't even taste the squid, but did complain about how the house smelled like Kings Fish House, and opened all the doors.

So I was the only person who ate this meal as it was supposed to be eaten. It was decent. The tentacles were the best, because all the little flavor bits in the sauce clung to the tubes and stuck in the little crevices. If this was entirely tentacles, sauce, and couscous, I think I would have liked it a lot. The tubes were disappointing. At least they didn't taste like rubber bands. But they didn't really taste like anything, actually.

So here is the recipe. It comes together really fast, so if you are going to have sides (salad, bread) you need to get them ready before you start on the squid:

Buttery, Garlicky, Spicy Calamari with Israeli Couscous


1 1/2 cups Israeli couscous
2 1/2 T olive oil
1 1/2# squid, cut into 1/2-inch pieces and patted dry
3 T unsalted butter
2 T chopped fresh parsley
1 T chopped fresh basil (or other "floppy" herb)
A whole lot of red pepper flakes (probably put in 1/2 teaspoon)
3 minced garlic cloves
Salt and pepper to taste
Fresh lemon juice to taste

Cook couscous in a large pot of boiling salted water until it is tender. This took about 4 minutes for the couscous I bought, even though the bag said 6 minutes. Drain, toss with 1/2 T olive oil, and keep warm.

In a large skillet, over high heat, heat the remaining oil until it begins to smoke. Add the squid, butter, herbs, pepper flakes, and garlic. Saute this for about 3-4 minutes, stirring frequently. The squid will be opaque when it is cooked. DON'T OVERCOOK or you will have rubber bands. Season with salt, pepper, and lemon juice.

You are supposed to add the couscous to the pan at this point and toss it with the squid and sauce. That probably would have been the best way to do this, but with squid-naysayers in the house, we had them separate.

Bankers Hill

It is a gorgeous weekend in San Diego. The kind of weekend that makes living in this city so incredible. It is January 29, and I am wearing shorts. I really, really wanted to go hiking in the desert this weekend, but nobody else wanted to go because it would be "too hot." So we went through my giant list of possible hikes and picked two: Tour of Bankers Hill and Three Sisters Waterfalls. My vote was Three Sisters. Everybody else voted for Bankers Hill.
So we went to Bankers Hill today. 1.5 mile stroll down beautiful, architecturally-significant streets. I took pictures.

A building designed by William Hebbard in 1913, stylized after the San Diego Cable Railway powerhouse.

The Quince Street footbridge, built in 1905. I love this bridge so much. You can see the Bay between Point Loma and Downtown.

A home built in the classic revival style.

 The largest camphor tree in San Diego. Behind it is a home built in 1898 by William Hebbard and Irving Gill. But you can't see it because the tree is so huge.

 This was at the Self-Realization Fellowship Center. The building itself was an Irving Gill design, but I was more interested in the elephants.

 This house was designed by Richard Requa. It has been divided into four apartments. I trespassed and walked around the perimeter of the home. What a great apartment house. Very luxurious.

This is the Spruce Street suspension footbridge, built in 1912 to give access to the streetcars on Fourth Avenue. Sam is taking a picture of Natalie jumping the air.  I captured the moment. I'm sure Natalie will be happy.

 This house was designed by Hebbard in 1907. I wish I could have gotten a better picture. This was the best house we saw. It was so beautiful. Every detail was perfect.

 This was attached to a Palladian-style mansion which was built in 1927. I liked the sign better than the house.

 This is an Irving Gill "canyon house" built in 1912. It was intended to blend harmoniously with the natural landscape.

This Queen Anne Victorian home was built in 1892 two blocks from where it presently stands. It was moved to this location in 1911. It reminded me of the homes in Arcata and Eureka. Really beautiful. You can see the pool peeking out on the left of the house. There was a guesthouse next to the pool.

So it wasn't a hike, but we saw a lot of great things, and got to walk over two historic bridges. As anybody who walks with me knows--I love walking over bridges. The suspension bridge is especially fun because it bounces and sways.

Mascarpone

Here is a picture of our completed, perfect mascarpone:

It is difficult to do justice to a picture of mascarpone. Especially when you are a poor photographer like I am. But this mascarpone was special.

Cassandra is a 13-year-old cheese hipster. She adores artisan cheese. The more obscure, the better. I gave her a subscription to the artisan cheese-of-the-month club for Christmas. Plus a book about making cheese. The book is designed to build on your cheese-making skills and techniques; so begins with the "easiest" cheese. Mascarpone.

The picture above is our fourth attempt at making this cheese.

Attempt 1: Cassandra was in the kitchen trying to make the cheese while I was playing "Let's Dance 3." The recipe is simple, bring 2 cups of cream mixed with 1/3 cup nonfat dry milk powder to 180 degrees. Then stir in lemon juice, refrigerate for 8 hours, and drain liquid. At least it should have been simple. While I was "busy" dancing badly to various songs, Cassandra was struggling in the kitchen. The thermometer kept falling into the pan. Her entire leg got burned by molten cheese. It was very upsetting to her. I finally came into the kitchen to look at what was going on, and discovered that she had a pan of very nicely caramelized milk. It was pretty, but it was not mascarpone. The $30 dairy thermometer I bought for cheese-making purposes read 140. Since I knew mascarpone cheese is supposed to be white, I knew this had to be wrong. I pulled out my cheap grocery store thermometer, stuck it in the brown caramelized milk, and it shot way up. We threw that away.

Attempt 2: I tried a different pan--a 2-quart Le Creuset pan. This was on my instinct that it would be easier to tell if the milk was starting to change from white in that pan, plus the cast iron would be a better conductor of heat. We tried to find out what the boiling temperature of cream was, but could not find a reliable source for that information. So I just made the executive decision that the 180 degrees was probably the boiling point and brought the cream/dried milk to that point, since the thermometer was continuing to be a huge problem. It would read 140, then go down to 100, then back to 140. It was all over the map and super frustrating. Put in the lemon juice, stuck it in the fridge, waited 8 hours, and found a pan of slightly thickened liquid. It was very tasty, but more like salad dressing than mascarpone. Threw that away.

Attempt 3: I discovered, by accident, that there is a cheese- and wine-making shop in San Diego called Curds and Wine. Cute. So I dragged Pete and Sam there on a Sunday to buy a new thermometer. This on the assumption that my expensive thermometer was defective. Used the same 2-quart Le Creuset pan. And found that the new thermometer did exactly the same thing as the prior thermometer. Once the mixture got to about 140 degrees, the thermometer stopped reading it accurately and moved all over the place. Never to 180. When I noticed that the mixture was starting to move from white, I took it off the heat, added the lemon juice and stuck it in the fridge. 8 hours later, I had a ball of "cheese" which was the consistency of frozen butter. I tried it on toast. It wasn't good. Threw that away.

Attempt 4: I thought and thought and decided that the problem was that the cream mixture wasn't deep enough for the thermometers to get an accurate reading. So I used my 1-quart Le Creuset pan. Mixture came right up to 180 degrees. And came out perfectly.

I looked through the cheese-making book, and at some cheese-making websites and saw nothing at all about this problem. I have the feeling that this is one of those things that is so basic to people who make cheese that they would never think to specify the size pan that should be used. Well, they should!