Windy City Cooking: Week 17

(Ed.'s Note- Every Monday, Chicago's Jason Hissong writes Windy City Cooking, a column whose title says it all. Enjoy! -Max)

The Web Log

23 November 2009
by Jason Hissong

My good friend Joel used to run a blog about pop culture and other items he found of interest. His blog was full of links to other websites, because that's what the first blogs were. The word 'blog' itself is a contraction for "web log." So, in the tradition of early blogs, I present this entry in that style.

The first item is Colin Nissan's McSweeney's article. The column is the celebration of the ubiquitous fall decorative item: the gourd. Warning: some language is not appropriate for children and / or the work environment. The hook, from the opening paragaph:

"I don't know about you, but I can't wait to get my hands on some fucking gourds and arrange them in a horn-shaped basket on my dining room table. That shit is going to look so seasonal."

It's a comical piece, worth many laughs and a couple of reads. I don't know that I have much to contribute in an assessment of the piece other than it's really funny and you should read it. And if you read it and don't find it funny, well, that's not for me to inquire as to why.

The other item that crossed my radar this week was Adam Gopnik's article "What's the Recipe?" from The New Yorker.

Let me espouse my jealousy. I wish I was this articulate about cooking and writing about food. I'm not. But that's the sort of piece I'd love to write one day, with much more practice in both writing and cooking.

The hook comes from the central portion of the article, after Gopnik alludes to philosopher Michael Oakeshott. Gopnik writes:

". . . the real surprise of the cookbook, as of the Constitution, is that it sometimes makes something better in the space between what’s promised and what’s made."

This is exactly the kind of point I attempted to make a couple weeks ago when I wrote about my bookshelf of cookbooks. The cookbook represents the ideal of what could be, and yet the execution of those recipes reflects what actually is. And somewhere in between something gets lost, or changed, or added. And so, in that way, when I cook a recipe from, say, Mario Batali, I'm not making his dish. I make it my own.

Gopnik makes many great points in the article but the one that resonated with me the most is the question about learning to cook: can one really learn to cook from a book? Or is cooking something passed from generation to generation? The truth is probably somewhere in between.

I've learned much from cookbook cooking, even if I rarely follow an exact recipe. I've also learned from asking my mother what to do if, and when, and why. She doesn't always know the answers, and that's okay. What she does know she learned from someone else, and so on and so on.

Still, Gopnik's article breaks down modern cookbooks into two distinct categories: encyclopedic and grammatical. A cookbook either attempts to encompass every conceivable item in a certain style of cooking, or it attempts to teach the reader the basics of cooking in order that they experiment on their own. I own and have read both types. In fact, I own some of the books Gopnik references. This, again, shows the truth is somewhere between the poles.

It's a well-written, well conceived piece. It's something I'd love to have the experience to write someday. In the meantime, I'll continue cooking, and continue writing.

What I've Cooked, What Others Have Cooked For Me, Where I Ate

It was another crazy busy week. Monday brought me to Jimmy John's for a Club Lulu and jalapeno potato chips. Hummus and pitas comprised dinner.

Tuesday I had some canned butternut squash soup. It was okay but nothing spectacular. For dinner I went to Costello's sandwich shop, having a nondescript chipotle chicken sandwich.

Wednesday I shared with Ashley an order of mozzarella sticks and a cheese pizza from Bojono's.

Thursday I actually cooked. I made an acorn squash and some sausage. I had never made acorn squash before. It's delicious. Thanks to Kate for the suggestions on how to cook it.

Friday a bunch of us went to Cooper's. I had the Broodwich. It was okay, but nothing more spectacular than anything available at a worthy deli. The fries, on the other hand, were crisp and salty, which is just fine by me.

Late late Friday night, say 2:30 a.m. I made a stop to the local late night burrito stand for a chicken burrito supreme. Always so good, but only after 2 a.m. My friend Ben has told me repeatedly I need to do a column on late night spots for food like this. And he's right. Someday.

Saturday I attended a pot luck style event in the mid morning. There are too many people with too many dishes and it wasn't appropriate to take notes. Needless to say I wasn't empty-bellied after making my way through the line, or the desserts. Saturday night my friend Kimberly was gracious enough to have a few of us from the previous event over to her home. She made a vegetable soup for us, and then we went to the circus! Thanks Kimberly!

Sunday I found myself cooking two scrambled eggs and the rest of my sausage. Sunday night I was over at Ashley's and we resigned the fact that neither of us felt like cooking, or having Thai, so we had Bojono's pizza again.

Windy City Cooking: Week 16

(Ed.'s Note- Every Monday--even when (still!) recovering from surgery!--Chicago's Jason Hissong writes Windy City Cooking, a column whose title says it all. Enjoy! -Max)



The Revisionist
by Jason Hissong
16 November 2009

       It starts with an idea. I hear a word, or see something on the television. Acorn squash. Risotto. Tomato bisque. I think: how? I think: what does that taste like? I think: what goes with that? I think: how do I cook that?

       I skim my cookbooks for a general idea. And it's at this point, I think, that I could do better. I am not a recipe chef. Part of that is a self-centerdness of me wanting to do it all. Part of it is that I just don't have the patience to go step by step. I figure I'll make it up as I go, and it will turn out one way or another. Maybe I should cook from some recipes and then modify. I digress.

       I try something for myself. It's okay. I can do it better, and will, when I serve it to others.

       It's Saturday afternoon. I have no plans for the evening. I call some people. "Hey," I say, "Do you want to come over for dinner?" Soon enough I realize I'm cooking for five or six. The rest of the day I spend cleaning and going to the grocery store for the ingredients I need, and then some.

       I make the dish. I serve. Everyone likes it, says it's really good. If they're lying they swallow those words. I think it's probably okay. It would be better if I cooked it from a recipe, I think. But it's over and done with at this point.

       That might be the most difficult part, really. The realization that, at some point, I have to serve this dish as is to other people. I can make sub par food for myself, no problem. I can take a failed experiment for myself and live with it. But when I have to feed others? There's a risk there. A risk of failing. A risk of looking a fool. A risk of hurt pride, and shot confidence and that sends me to question my cooking skills.

       That sequence never happens. My friends are too polite for that, if they even think those things at all. I know when my food's bad, when it doesn't work, how I could do it better.

       It's always a process, though. Of nipping here, and tucking there, and refinement. Practice. Making something over and over and over until I settle on how I want to do it and then when that status quo sets in I try something else to make it different, and new.

       * * *

       It starts with an idea. I hear a word, or see something on the television, or read something in a novel or comic. Mood Seven Mind Destroyer. I think: whose mind? I think: who's doing the destroying? I think: what's Mood Seven?

       I start by writing a brief little something with pen and paper. Or drawing something. I get no more than five paragraphs with pen and paper before I switch to my keyboard. I think it might serve me as a writer to try to attempt a first draft with nothing but pen and paper. To make me slow down. Sometimes my Romantic ideas of writers overtakes my pragmatism and I think, despite knowing that I hold my pens too tight, I could do that. Write an entire manuscript by hand.

       I get a draft down.

       I don't necessarily like it.

       I send it to people I trust to get feedback. I want them to tell me it's great as is, even though I know it's not. It's going to take another draft, or three. I know it's good, but not as good as I want.

       I get the feedback. It's good information from trusted sources to make my writing stronger.

       I print out a manuscript for myself and use a red pen- 'cause I'm neurotic- and I color my pages red.

       I sit down to write a new draft and I open a completely new document to do so.

       I finish and send it out again and this is where the doubt waxes and the self confidence wanes. Is it good? Is it better than the last? What am I doing with this piece?

       It's always a process. I could tweak a manuscript for a year and still not be done. I finally settle on a level of satisfaction, partly out of attrition, and let it go. It sits in my folder or on my hard drive, waiting for me to drum up the confidence to send it for submission somewhere, sometime in the future.

       * * *

       I love them both, of course. And when I look at the process I realize that they're the same thing. Idea, execution without full research, refinement, execution, refinement, execution. Somewhere in there I have to present my work to someone else. I have to break out of the invisible bubble of self and take a risk- a risk of failure and success. It's the same thing.

       What I've Cooked, What Others Have Cooked For Me, Where I Ate

       It's been an interesting week for food as I recover from my wisdom teeth extraction. It turns out I came down with the dreaded dry sockets which is really painful and annoying, by the way.

       I ate a bowl of macaroni and cheese from Au Bon Pain for lunch all three days I went to work last week. It's so good. Creamy and rich and normally I don't like those sort of mass batch foods but this turned out really well. It was soft and flavorful and good.

       On Wednesday night I went to a place in Wicker Park called Zen Noodles & Sushi with my friend Johnny. We went to a reading/signing at Quimby's right after. I had the sesame chicken. It was not the wisest choice as that was my first foray into solid food since the teeth came out. I kept chewing with my front teeth, which is difficult.

       Thursday night my friend Andy had me over to cook. Amy and Ashley joined us as we watched the San Francisco 49ers intercept Jay Cutler and the Bears five times. At least the food was good. Tomato soup with a grilled Gruyère and bacon on sourdough. I also made an arugula salad with a honey-dijon dressing.

       On Friday night I went to Orange Garden with my roommate Jason and Elizabeth. I had the Mongolian Chicken. Their dishes escape me at the moment and I didn't write them down when we got home. If you're reading, kids, pipe in and tell me what you had.

       Saturday I had an impromptu dinner party. Only two others attended- Jonathan and Ashley. I made asparagus with lemon-thyme butter and purchased Brioche rolls. The main course was chicken with forty cloves. That's right, forty cloves. And, of course, one would think that after knowing the man as well as I do for nearly a decade now I would be observant as not to include mushrooms in anything I cook for Jonathan. This escaped me Saturday night, and for that, I am sorry. Still, the chicken was very good and I have enough leftover that I'll have to make something new with it by Wednesday.

       The Brioche's lightness and sweetness made it perfect for Sunday morning French toast. It also made the last of the rolls perfect for cubing and making croutons that then went into the onion soup I made Sunday evening.

Chicken with Lime Dressing, Avocado Mash and Red Bell Pepper & Almonds

Today's dish goes great with those homemade flour tortillas we made yesterday, and is a multicomponent meal that's not terribly time-consuming, but definitely does take some time and effort to prepare. This is a dish Jen taught me how to make--it's from the South Beach Diet cookbook (neither of us are on the South Beach Diet, but for some reason it's a legit good cookbook), but you can see the recipe online here--that I greatly enjoyed when we first made it together, and still am a big fan of today. I think it's the avocado mash that really makes the dish, but perhaps you'll be more partial to the charred RBP & almonds, or the chicken itself. I've made a couple of modifications to the recipe, but we'll get to those in a little bit. Onto the recipe.



The first thing you'll need to do is juice a few limes until you have 2/3 cup lime juice. We're making a double recipe, so just halve these measurements if you're cooking two portions and not four. I used this awesome Cuisinart citrus juicer from Big Lots (refurbished, $15 or so) to juice the limes. It works like a dream, the price was right, and it makes juicing lemons, limes, and oranges far easier than the elbow grease normally required to get just a few drops of juice free of its pulpy prison.



Next, remove your lime juice to a small bowl.



Then you'll need a small bunch of cilantro, washed off and ready to be chopped.



You'll need 1/2 cup. The cool thing about chopping cilantro is that you don't need any special knife to do so. You can use a basic knife or a chef's knife, most sharp kitchen knives will work for this purpose (except one with a serrated edge). All you need to do is bunch up the cilantro, and make a sweeping motion through it, with the knife's blade touching the cutting board throughout. Repeat until you've got enough chopped cilantro.



Add the cilantro to your lime juice--



Along with 2 tbsp EVOO, 2 tsp sugar, and 1 tsp salt--



--and whisk it up.



We're going to make this whole pack of eight chicken tenders, but feel free to use half of the package if you like.



Place your chicken is a deeply kitschy but surprisingly useful bright red mixing bowl.



Pour 6 tbsp of the lime dressing over the chicken.



Mix it all up, cover your bowl, and fridge it up for a good 45 minutes to an hour. The recipe says to only marinate it for ten minutes, but we're doing this longer marinade so we can skip the flouring step later. The recipe has you later flour the chicken before cooking to seal in the flavor, but because the flour adds a weird and unnecessary texture to the exterior of the chicken, we're going to marinate the chicken a little longer so it can be plenty flavorful on its own.



After about 45 minutes (just enough time to watch this week's House), take out a small bowl, squeeze 2 tbsp worth of fresh lemon juice, pour it into your bowl--



--and spoon in 4 tbsp of the lime dressing.



Add one avocado.



One more.



And a third.



Mash everything up. Sometimes I like to listen to music when I cook. If you do, too, a mash-up would be an appropriate genre of tune to choose for this step. You can use a potato masher, a fork, your hands--whatever you like. I hear avocado baths are en vogue at local high-end spas, so this could be a good way to get your exfoliation on.



Add 4 tsp salsa or picante sauce--



--and mix the whole thing once more. Then refrigerate for the remainder of the cooking process so the ingredients have some time to intermingle.



One trusty cast-iron skillet, on a medium-high flame.



Preheat the oven to 350 degrees, then add 2 tbsp EVOO to your skillet. Don't be alarmed by the warped mirror reflection in the oil. Please try not to confuse it for an Alice in Wonderland-style portal into another dimension.



Add your chicken and cook for 5 minutes....



....and five more minutes on the other side.



Then transfer your skillet to the preheated oven to finish cooking, for 10-15 minutes or until chicken is done. Halfway through cooking, baste chicken with juices.



Okay, while the chicken's finishing up, let's make that red bell pepper & almond mixture. Chop about 1/3-1/2 cup almonds (depending on how much you like almonds) in half, and set those aside. Then wash three RBPs.



Slice the first RBP like you slice an apple.



Repeat with the other two.



Chop your RBP slices, and preheat a small cast-iron skillet over medium-high heat.



Add 2 tsp EVOO, then your RBP, to the skillet.



Cook for 5 mins or so, until the pepper turns bright orange and has softened.



Mince 2 cloves of garlic and add to the pepper. Cook for 30 seconds or until browned.



Add your almonds--



And stir everything together.



Plate your RBP & almonds, avocado mash, and chicken. Enjoy!



Thanks for stopping by Beach City Cooking, and I'll see you all later on tonight for another post. Have a great night, and stay cool!

Homemade Flour Tortillas

Now back to our regularly scheduled programming. I've wanted to make homemade tortillas for a long time. When I first got into cooking last year, my friend Antonio raved about director Robert Rodriguez's tortilla-making video which came as a special feature on one of his movies. I never saw the feature, but Antonio's excitement about the video was palpable, and that, along with my love for Mexican food (my favorite cuisine, actually), got me interested in trying to make my own tortillas. I finally got around to doing so last week, and the results were plate-sized chewy deliciousness.

I found this great recipe on TexasCooking.com that looked easy enough to attempt, and was off to the kitchen. Thankfully, these tortillas are ridiculously cheap to make, and require only kitchen cabinet staples. Okay--onto the recipe!



Start out by grabbing your large mixing bowl.



Add two cups of flour. Note: that's f-l-o-u-r, flour. This note is for the person who emailed me asking if dandelions would make for a good base for a pie crust.



Rumford Baking Powder. Touted as aluminum-free, but comes in an aluminum-based container. Just a little Beach City Cooking dramatic irony for you.



Add 1.5 tsp of this stuff. The container is set up so it's really hard to measure teaspoons of baking powder and not get some all over your fingers. You know, just to make things more interesting.



Whisk it up.



Heat 3/4 cup milk (whatever % you like should work, I used 1%) on the stovetop or in the microwave. You'll only need to bring it to lukewarm.



Add 1 tsp salt and 2 tsp vegetable oil--



--and then get a little more use out of your beloved whisk.



Pour the milk into your mixing bowl, little by little, stirring with a spatula as you go.



You should end up with a sticky dough that looks something like this.



Next, gently dust a wood surface with flour.



Take your dough, and place it on the floured surface.



Knead well for about 2 minutes--



--and return to the infamous mixing bowl.



Cover with a damp kitchen towel, and take a 15-minute break. 15-minute break ideas: read one chapter of Jonathan Lethem's new book, Chronic City; take a foot bath; eat an oreo in 10 bites, one per minute, taking a one-minute break after every two minutes.



*tweet* Break's over! (That's the noise of a whistle! Not to be confused with a single utterance from a Twitter user.) Line a baking pan with baking powder's BFF and worst of enemies: aluminum foil.



Uncover your cloaked mixing bowl and tear your dough ball in two.



Divide each of those pieces in two.



And, one last time.



Shape your eight pieces of dough into balls, and arrange them on the baking sheet--



--and cover them again. This time, you get a 20 minute break. See how generous I am? You're welcome. It's my pleasure, really. Let's watch an episode of Curb this time. Those episodes are usually more than 20 minutes, but it's okay--the dough's not rising, just resting, so we can totally finish the ep without worrying about over-rising dough.



Okay, now comes the fun part. Preheat your cast-iron skillet to medium high, so it can get very, very hot very quickly.



Take one ball of dough and flatten it in your hands, then work it into a 4 or 5-inch circle.



Dust your rolling pin with a little flour, then roll out your dough patty into a circle with an 8-inch diameter.



Carefully place your almost-tortilla onto the hot cast-iron skillet.



These only need 30 seconds on each side (or less--I frequently found the tortillas only needing 15 seconds on the second side), so flip your tortilla as soon as it begins to blister.



Allow your tortilla to finish cooking.



Remove, let cool, and enjoy. These are great for burritos, tacos, whatever you like. Just make them larger or smaller depending on your preference. You can also freeze them and reheat them, wrapped in that dreaded/beloved aluminum foil, in the oven, until they reach your desired temperature (like any tortilla, they're good at room temperature but great when heated).



Thanks for stopping by Beach City Cooking, and I'll see you all tomorrow for another post. Have a great night, and stay cool!

Windy City Cooking: Week 15

(Ed.'s Note- Every Monday--even when recovering from surgery!--Chicago's Jason Hissong writes Windy City Cooking, a column whose title says it all. Enjoy! -Max)

Extraction
by Jason Hissong
9 November 2009

       This is going to be a bit of a different column. Essentially, it's an extended version of what I do at the end of my columns in the What I've Cooked, What Others Have Cooked for Me, Where I Ate feature. Why? Extraction. I now have four stitched up sockets where my wisdom teeth used to be thanks to Dr. Katabi and his staff at Armitage Oral Surgery.

       Because of said stitches I can't really use the back of my mouth to chew. So I've had to find ways to get all my requisite nutrients and protein/fats/carbs. It's a different way of thinking about food. A challenging way.

       So, what have I made and purchased? Well, I purchased a two pound container of yogurt. That has been my breakfast for the most part. And it's gone after three days. Also, pudding. Both are soft. Both taste good.

       On Thursday night I made my tomato bisque. It's smooth and creamy. It starts with the aromatics- garlic, onion, celery, carrots. I added four cups of stock after sweating the aromatics. To the stock and aromatics I added quartered tomatoes. I used an entire package of small tomatoes I got at Trader Joe's. I think it had eight or nine medium sized tomatoes. Anyway, I added the tomatoes and then after letting it simmer for about half an hour I added a cup of milk, two tablespoons of butter and used my stick blender to puree it all into a smooth, creamy soup. I also added some blue cheese to melt and blend into the mixture. Usually I'd serve this with some bread, but, alas, I can't chew bread.

       I also purchased some hummus. Usually I like to make my own hummus, but it's been a crazy week. Hummus is good because it provides me the protein I need while I can't really chew.

       Also, there is ice cream. I've had two wonderful friends- Ashley and Kara- each bring me ice cream. And I've eaten it all. Because it's ice cream, and ice cream makes everything better. I even purchased some more tonight. Because it's ice cream.

       I made scrambled eggs for breakfast. That experiment worked better in my head than it did in execution. It was fine, but I had to cut each bite further than normal to get the smallest pieces possible without chewing. Or, without chewing much, and definitely with only using the front part of my mouth.

       Mashed potatoes. I made a huge pot of mashed potatoes last night. Mashed potatoes are so good. And so easy. Way easier than I realized. It's literally just boiling the potatoes until their done, draining then adding some milk and butter and mashing them. I also added cheese to mine, because I like the undercurrents of cheddar in the middle of all that starch.

       So it's been an interesting experiment attempting to figure out how to satisfactorily feed myself without chewing. And, a bit fun. I fee like I've eaten way too much. And I don't know if it's always been the healthiest way to go about it. I need to go to the store tomorrow to re-stock on yogurt and some other things, because I think I have three or four more days of eating without chewing.

       The good news is that my mouth now has room for all its teeth. And I look forward to being able to chew again.

What I've Cooked, What Others Have Cooked for Me, Where I Ate

       On Monday I actually brought my lunch to work. Of course, it was leftover Orange Garden from my trip with Ashley the previous Friday night. And, like Panda Express from the outset, Orange Garden is never a good idea re-heated. I had Ashley's leftover fried rice from Orange Garden for dinner on Monday, and I had maybe five bites.

       Tuesday I had lunch with my friend Kara at Cosi. I had the steakhouse Gorgonzola. It's a great combination and one I'll have to attempt myself. For dinner I attended a potluck. I'd like to to thank: Robin for her homemade salsa and chips. Sarah for the steak tacos and guac from Tony's Burrito House. Erin for the relish tray. Lea for the pita chips and hummus. Terry for the walnut and raisin salad. Kim for the taco salad. Elisa for the tamales and salsa. Suzanne and Norah for the spring rolls. Jennifer for the rice and beans. Nadia for the chips, salsa, and hummus, and Anne for the brownies. Apologies if I missed anyone.

       Wednesday I had a Baja turkey sandwich from Au Bon Pain. For dinner I had a bowl of cereal.

       Thursday I cooked for Ashley. We had a risotto dish- again. This time with black beans and blue cheese. It was delicious.

       Friday I had yogurt and cereal for breakfast. And then I fasted. And after my fast, I ate foods without chewing them.

Windy City Cooking: Week 14

(Ed.'s Note- Every Monday, Chicago's only Jason Hissong writes Windy City Cooking, a column whose title says it all. Enjoy! -Max)



Gear
by Jason Hissong
2 November 2009

       I get suckered in, too. They're so pretty- images of complete kitchens with all the gear. Racks of pots and pans. Blocks and blocks of knives. The advertisers are so charming in their made up world of perfection. I fall for it all the time. I think: if only I had the entire pot and pan set I would be a better cook.

       And it's not true. I'll be a better cook when I cook more, and better. The thing with gear is that there's so much of it that it's hard to know what's vitally necessary and what's advertisers' attempts at selling product. And it's difficult to discern.

       Alton Brown has a book on kitchen gear. It's worth a library check out. I enjoy Brown's thought process when it comes to food- exploring the why of food as much, if not more, than the how- and his approach to gear is no different. One of his main points is to make sure you go after gear that can be used for more than one task, instead of buying a single item for a single task. It makes complete sense. Brown also does a great job of exploring the differences between metals and why different metals do different things in pots and pans. Or knives. Or why garlic presses are useless.

       I don't have a lot of kitchen gear, personally. But I am, of course, always wanting more. So what do I have? What do I love that I think helps me cook well?

       It starts with my 8" chef's knife. It's from Chroma, and designed by F.A. Porsche. Yes, that Porsche. You can see it in the picture above. It's a delight to hold. Light. Well balanced. It's made from a single piece of molded steel. Most importantly, of course, it's sharp. It's going to last a long long time.

       Knives, more than any other piece of kitchen gear, I will shell out top dollar for. Why? Because it's the piece of equipment I use most often. I use it every day. For everything that needs, dicing, slicing, chopping. It cuts through vegetable, herbs, and meat. It's the backbone of any cooking process, really, as few things are rarely cooked as they are at the time of purchase. Buy a knife- again just one, not the entire block- that will last. It's worth the money.

       The second piece of equipment that is indispensable in my kitchen: my 12 inch cast-iron skillet. I always joke that if there's a day I didn't touch my cast-iron skillet I didn't cook at home. Cast iron is indestructible. It's going to be here long after I'm in the ground. My great grandchildren could use this skillet. Cast iron is such a great tool for cooking because of its heat retention and even distribution thereof. It can also withstand huge amounts of heat, so I can take it from my stove top to my oven no problem. Another great benefit of the cast iron skillet: it's relatively cheap. I paid about $20.00 for mine.

       There are other, ancillary items I use frequently. My wooden cutting board for one. Wood, or bamboo, are much better surfaces for knives. Granite, marble, ceramic, glass, and plastic are all going to destroy knives in due time. Wood and bamboo are the way to go.

       I also have to have a spatula for my skillet. I use one made by Zyliss. It's made with silicone, so it can withstand super high temperatures and just fits my hand perfectly.

       I also use a paring knife for smaller tasks, but it's not essential. Again, when I look for knives I look for molded knives, not stamped. Molded last longer. They're stronger. Everything about them is better.

       Do I want more? Of course. If my budget were unlimited I'd have it all. Cast-iron Dutch oven. Green Egg. A complete set of copper pots and pans. Not that I need them. I do hope someday to own a home. And there's no question that I'll be paying the most attention to the kitchen. But just because I lack a lot of kitchen gear right now doesn't mean my food suffers. In fact, just the opposite. I used to think that becoming good at something meant having all the stuff that the people who are good at that something have. But that's a consumer-centric, advertiser-driven logic. The truth is that I'm good at something, and become better at those things, because I do them. Cooking is no different. Are there a couple of essential pieces of equipment necessary to cook well? Sure. But not a lot. You just have to use what you've got.

What I've Cooked, What Others Have Cooked For Me, Where I Ate

       It's been a super busy week, and I once again failed at keeping a detailed map of what I've eaten. I do know this:

       On Monday I went to Panda Express for the Orange Chicken for lunch. I knew it was a mistake even before I went, but I went regardless. Sure enough, my afternoon was spent inhaling that inescapable smell that is Panda Express Orange Chicken while my stomach worked overtime to digest that ball of food. Why do I do these things to myself? I have no clue. For dinner I had a bowl of Honey Bunches of Oats cereal. Sometimes it's just one of those days that cereal for dinner is the way of things.

       Tuesday I treated myself slightly better with a chopped salad from Corner Bakery followed by a steak burrito from Tony's Burrito House. It's that cheap, ubiquitous fast Mexican that's the most incredible meal ever when drunk at three a.m. For dinner, while sober, it's serviceable.

       Wednesday had me at Jimmy Johns for a Club Lulu with cheese. I didn't eat dinner on Wednesday. I'm not sure why.

       Here's where my note-taking fails. I have zero clue what I had to eat on Thursday.

       Friday I went to Orange Garden with Ashley. She had the combination fried rice and I had the sesame chicken.

       Saturday I don't remember eating much until dinner. I spent most of the day sleeping and and trying to get over my sugar-induced coma. I did, however, go to Julius Meinl for dinner with some Friends. I had the turkey and avocado sandwich that came with a small garden salad and a cup of coffee. There were some desserts our table shared. They were good. But I don't remember exactly what they were. They were delicious. I'll tell you that.

       Sunday was a caloric feast. I had an English muffin for breakfast. After running a 5K I had hot chocolate and chocolate fondue with bananas, pretzels, graham cracker, and apple slices. Sunday afternoon I met with some friends and everyone brought dessert or a dish: Ashley made her incredible crab dip. Laura made cookie bars. Kara made a pudding dish called Ghost in the Graveyard. Erin made a pumpkin mousse. Dan and Larissa made a carrot cake with buttery cream cheese frosting. I contributed my Gruyère crisps.

       Another amazing, expensive week for food. It's a good thing I run.

Weekly Bento Round-Up #10

This week, three Bentos to share. The other two days were just repeats of earlier Bentos, so we'll skip those. For the time being, I'm still trying to make a new Bento nearly every weekday, and it can be a bit of a challenge some days, but mostly it's been going pretty smoothly, I think. Without further ado, let's take a look at those Bento boxes.



On Monday, I wisely heeded Jen's request for her first-ever Fluffernutter, which was recently made the official sandwich of the state of Massachusetts, along with the elephant (?) the official state mammal, and Leonard Bernstein the official state conductor. Perhaps the state will commission a poster of Leonard Bernstein conducting a symphony orchestra of elephants playing tubas for an audience of cute cartoon fluffernutters, in order to commemorate these crucial new bills. I suspect they'll all be making their way onto the national stage soon enough! Anyway, the rest of this lunch consisted of fresh (and delicious) blackberries, some carrot sticks, and the requisite bagged snacks.



Tuesday's lunch was a DIY bagel sandwich with a little cream cheese, some alfalfa sprouts, and a couple slices of off-the-bone turkey. This is actually a sandwich we used to get at the now-closed Hayfield's sandwich shop in Northampton, MA. Somehow I ended up really representing our old state in this week's Bentos!



The final Bento this week consisted of leftover quesadillas, freshly-baked Tollhouse chocolate chip cookies, and carrot sticks. The quesadillas contained griddled tofu that I'd marinated in a little Pico Pica, shredded smoked Gouda, and cast-iron skillet-cooked red bell pepper, with the charred skin of the pepper removed, leaving a delicious roasted red pepper-y flavor and consistency, but with a little smokiness to it.



Thanks for stopping by Beach City Cooking, and I'll see you all tomorrow for another edition of Windy City Cooking. Have a great night, and stay cool!