Knit Think

Friday food

Back when I tried the Enchilada Lasagne, I noted that I also had a stray recipe in ye olde recipe drawere that required overnight marinating. Not long after I made the lasagne, I set out to marinate a chicken in the Malaysian style.

I am by no means an expert on Malaysian food. But I can say that if you live in or near the Twin Cities and would like to try Malaysian food, get thee to Peninsula, on Eat Street in Minneapolis, which is a fabulous restaurant with a miles-long menu and amazing food. If this is what Malaysian food is like, I'm all for it. Bring it on. Open some more restaurants.

Or make this chicken. First you put together the marinade:

Oyster sauce, soy sauce, ketchup, brown sugar, shallots, garlic, fresh ginger, and hot chili paste. Then put the chicken in the marinade.

Cute chicken. Looks kind of shy, doesn't it? Like it doesn't like being photographed in the nude.

Now the recipe says to use a fork to puncture the chicken so the marinade will absorb into the meat.

Say. That was kind of fun.

Whee! Why, yes, I do like to play with my food.

Now you slather the marinade all over the chicken, cover, and refrigerate overnight.

Then you put it in a foil-lined pan and roast at 425F until done, about 60-70 minutes.

Voila! Malaysian Roast Chicken! Delicious. Served it with steamed rice and a salad. Yum. It made good leftovers, too.

But really--if you're around, try Peninsula. And if you're trying Peninsula, call me.

Merry Christmas to me

I know, it's not even December yet. But my bestest ever Christmas present arrived:

Holli, the border collie/Australian shepherd mix! No, she's not named for the holidays, her full name is Holliwood, but we call her Holli.

And yes, we've had her for several days now. For fairly obvious reasons, I didn't blog about her right away--but unlike poor Charli, Holli is an absolute sweetheart. Other than a couple of minor territory tussles--oddly, Holli objects when Gracie tries to steal the rawhide treat right out of Holli's mouth! Goodness knows Teddy could never even figure out what happened when Gracie did that--Holli and Gracie are fast becoming good buddies. It helps that Holli seems to view Gracie as another member of the pack rather than, say, an appetizer before dinner.

And going for walks? Oh my. How nice to walk a dog that doesn't think the leash is a signal to begin a canine search-and-destroy mission.

She's six years old. Victim of neglect (so bad the original owners were taken to court), but she's spent several months in rescue and is the sweetest, gentlest girl. Very happy to have a cozy chair to sit on. Very happy to have her ears scratched. Very happy to play fetch. Very happy to snore on the floor next to Gracie.

Oh, and those ears--don't know if they're from the border collie or the Australian shepherd part of her DNA, but when she's very interested or curious, she flexes those ears until she looks like the Flying Nun:

Hmmm...maybe we should have named her Sally?
We do like her. We really, really like her.

You knew that was coming, didn't you?

Friday food

This edition of Friday Food brought to you courtesy of the fine folks at Thyme for Cooking.

Another Thanksgiving has come and gone. Our table was loaded with all the greatest hits of the holiday, and I'm proud to say that our food was all home-cooked and delicious: our turkey was brined the day before, then slow-roasted with sage, onion, and celery stuffing; there were sweet potatoes, boiled, then sliced and fried with butter and brown sugar; mountains of delectable mashed potatoes, mashed with butter, cream, and salt. Three--count 'em, three--homemade pies from scratch: cherry, pecan, and pumpkin (well, OK, we used canned pumpkin for the latter, but the crust was homemade).

But those wise folks at Thyme for Cooking are sage (tee hee) enough to know that the most devoted cook probably has some kind of skeleton in his/her holiday closet. They want to know what item you put on the table that you are, perhaps, mostly inclined to leave off the official list of what was served. So they issued a challenge: come clean with your dirty laundry.

Here's mine:

The relish tray. Is this a Midwestern thing? I certainly grew up with it. No holiday gathering was complete without one. And truthfully, I'm very fond of the black olives that come in the tin cans, and green olives with pimento? C'mon, you know you like them. They're particularly good on pepperoni pizza.

But that third item--ah, that's the embarrassment. That is celery. Filled using spray cheese in a can. You know the stuff--the "pasteurized cheese product." It's not cheese, it's a cheese product. It's shelf stable--once you open the can, you can just keep it in the cupboard. No need to refrigerate. It's very, very orange.

This is my brother's favorite relish. He doesn't ask for much. It must be provided. So every year, in November, I buy a can of this spray cheese product and put out a relish tray. Since I don't use up the whole can at Thanksgiving, I can keep it (in the cupboard) until Christmas, when I use it again.

The really sad thing is that I, um, kind of like it too. As do the kids.

There. You know my deep dark holiday table secret.

What's yours?

Why I love November

Friday food

Besides having too many cookbooks that I've never tried, I have this:

A recipe drawer. Full of things I've clipped from magazines and newspapers, printed off the internet, pulled from emails. My interest in food appears to far exceed my ability to actually try new things.

So for this edition of Friday food, I pulled out a random recipe, which turned out to be Enchilada Lasagna by Alton Brown, from the Food Network.

Actually, I pulled out a different recipe, but it required 24 hours to marinate meat, which at 5 p.m. last night didn't seem very practical.

But Enchilada Lasagna--that sounded promising. The date on the printout indicated it's been in the drawer for several months. This is what happens--it sounds good (c'mon, enchiladas AND lasagna? How can it not be good?), I print it out meaning to try it soon, very soon, it gets buried under layers of other "soon, very soon" recipes in the black hole known as the recipe drawer, and it may never resurface.

SoI felt virtuous, rescuing this lonely recipe. It starts out easily enough, with tomato sauce and chicken broth, garlic, chili powder, cumin, and chipotle peppers, stirred and simmered.

Then--and sorry, Youngest Son was distracting me so I didn't get pictures of this (an aside: my kids think this business of taking pictures of things I'm cooking and posting them on my blog is the Lamest. Thing. Ever), but you saute some diced chicken (breast or thigh, I used breast, boneless and skinless), garlic, oregano, and some onion (OK, a lot of onion--I love onion and routinely put more than any recipe calls for into my cooking, to the occasional chagrin of the other eaters in the house).

When the sauce is simmered and the chicken/onion mixture is cooked, the assembly begins. First the sauce, then corn tortillas dipped in the sauce, then the chicken/onion mixture, then shredded Monterey Jack cheese. Two layers like this, then finish with more dipped tortillas, the rest of the sauce, and cheese.

Bake, covered, at 350F for 30 minutes, then uncovered for 10 minutes. Voila!

This was pretty darned good, and very easy. And I think it would take well to playing--using beef or black beans instead of chicken, adding some diced green chiles and black olives, maybe even shrimp. And it's really good with sour cream on top. Because all that cheese just doesn't add enough calories. 

Thinking about tinking

I've had lots of time recently (lots and lots) to think about tinking. Unknitting. For the moment, I'm taking the glass-half-full approach to this train of thought.

Here's what I've been thinking. Of all the things I've learned so far about knitting, tinking is maybe the most valuable. It wasn't that long ago that if I made an error, I had two choices: ignore it and hope no one else noticed it, or rip the whole damn thing out. Then I learned to unknit. Wow. What a difference.

Look at this:

The Cat's Paw Lace Shawl. It may not look big, but this thing is--for me--huge. It's got about 230 stitches currently, and every other row involves four increases. Somewhere around 90 rows, I discovered a mistake that couldn't be ignored, especially in light of the fact that this is a gift. Having to rip all that out would have been, well, emotionally trying--not to mention it would have jeopardized the entire Christmas gift schedule.

Instead, I figured out where and what the error was, about six rows back. So I sat down and slowly, carefully, knit back. Tedious? You bet. Thank goodness we had just gotten the last season of The Sopranos from Netflix, so I had that excitement to keep me going (although can I just say, did anyone else find that last season incredibly depressing? I'm not talking about the last episode--the whole season. Good grief. Talk about midlife crises. Debt, mortality, Alzheimer's, murder). I fixed the error, and began adding to the row count again. Now I have 12 rows left--quite doable for Christmas, even with blocking time.

I have a sock I'm working on, the Straight-Laced socks from Knitty, and same thing--albeit on a smaller scale--with finding errors that would have annoyed if I'd had to rip out from the beginning. I'm still not comfortable with the idea of partial rip-outs--I tried that with Hypoteneuse, and it was a disaster. Somewhere stitches got lost and out of whack, and I ended up having to rip it out altogether. Discouraging as that was, I could console myself with the fact that someday I'll learn how to do that too.

That's really not a bad average--out of three screwed-up projects, only one had to be taken all the way back to the beginning.

This is maybe what I really like about knitting. There's always something new to learn, or something newly learned to feel good about.

If only I could take that patient approach to other parts of life. For example, when yesterday I found myself circling Loring Park, in complete view of the Walker and the Frida Kahlo exhibit, but unable to actually get there, because of the police officer's funeral.

It appears more time spent tinking in the hopes that that patience will permeate the rest of my emotional life would be a good thing.

Friday food

I love eggs.

Remember the old jingle, "The incredible, edible egg"? So true. There are so very many things one can do with an egg. Boil, fry, poach, coddle, scramble. Eat by itself. Eat with meat. Eat with cheese and black beans. Top roast beef or corned beef hash. Heck, I've even had raw quail eggs on sushi, and that was mighty fine too. I could--and have--eaten eggs every day, sometimes more than once a day.

By the way, those goodly people at the American Egg Board have a wonderful website about all things egg, including some fun trivia. Did you know, for example, that if you're not sure if your boiled egg is hard-boiled, all you have to do is spin it? If the interior is still liquid, it will wobble; if it's solid, it will spin.

And did you know the color of a hen's earlobes determines the color of the eggshell?

But I digress. Eggs.

Obviously these particular eggs, besides coming from Kowalski's, came from chickens with white earlobes. And they spin beautifully, which means they've been hard-boiled.

I'm afraid I don't really have a recipe for this. It's just a eyeball-it, taste-it, trial-and-error concoction. It's based lightly on some wonderful tea sandwiches I used to get at the long (and lamentably) departed Bronte Teahouse in Minneapolis (blogless Heidi, surely you remember the Bronte Teahouse?). Here I've used my handy-dandy egg slicer to chop the eggs, added a spoonful each of sour cream and mayonnaise, and a hefty dose of capers.

Then it's time for a little salt, a bit more curry powder, some fresh dill, and some white pepper. Again, all to taste. I have also been known to add some Dijon, chopped celery, chopped scallions or shallots, and even some black pepper. Chicken and cashews also work well.

And that's it. Curried egg salad sandwiches a la Knit Think.

A note about bread: This goes well on just about any kind of bread. I've had it on multi-grain, onion rye, whole wheat, and white. I do like it best on white, a nice soft white, but really--a good curried egg salad tastes good on almost anything.

One last bit of trivia: that old phrase "pecking order"--it's a real function within the chicken world. Large farms trim the beaks of chickens to keep them from hassling each other, which is rather like trimming a dog's nails. Organic farms aren't allowed to do this, but consequently, the mortality rate of chickens in organic farms is higher. Hen-pecked indeed.

Calendar

Last year, Deb talked about a photo calendar she'd created for herself with a lovely knitting theme. I suggested at the time that she think about making it available for sale. It must have been popular demand--now everyone can get a 2008 Chappysmom calendar!

Look how pretty (and please be aware that my photography skills don't begin to do justice to the rich colors of these calendar pages):

Mmmmm.....prettttttttyyyyyy.......

A very knitterly way to approach the new year, don't'cha think? Oh--and yesterday was Deb's birthday, so c'mon, give her a big happy birthday and give the calendar a place in your home! And in your friend's home, and your sister's home, and...you get the picture.

Soapbox Monday

Don't worry, it's not going to be a regular feature.

But I'm feeling a tad bit rabble-rouser today. The reason? An email sent to a huge group of people in my neighborhood by another neighbor. I've only met this neighbor once and it was very brief, so I don't know a thing about her. Clearly she doesn't know everyone on the list well either, since she sent the email to at least three people that I know for sure are atheists and one who is Jewish (this will soon become important).

In the email, she forwards several alarmist emails she's gotten from others, urging everyone to avoid the movie The Golden Compass like the plague, because the author is an avowed atheist and the message of the movie is to promote atheism, and for heaven's sake, don't let your children be exposed to such malignity.

Where do I even start? How about with the atheists and Jewish person she sent this email to?

Please don't get me wrong. I have a deep and abiding respect for the varied belief systems that exist in our world. I'm not going to go into what my own belief systems are, because frankly that's irrelevant. I will say, however, that my own beliefs have been enriched and enhanced any time I've been exposed to different viewpoints. It makes me think harder about what I do and don't believe, and opens my eyes to new possibilities. So for someone who doesn't know me to say--don't see this movie, it's religiously offensive--well.

And also don't get me wrong--it is completely within each individual's right to decide what they should or shouldn't see or read. It's also a parent's right to decide what their own children should see or read.

But it is not someone else's right to tell me what I should see or read, or what my children should see or read.

How about the fact that the movie isn't even out yet, so the person who sent the email can't possibly have seen it?

These kinds of attitudes scare me more than I can possibly say. How can we teach our children about tolerance and acceptance in an environment like this? And for goodness sake, The Golden Compass was first published over ten years ago--can anyone point to a noticeable decline in Christianity since its publication?

In general, just so you know, it's never a good idea to tell me what I should or shouldn't do, if I haven't asked your opinion. :-)

I was going to ignore the email, but finally decided to respond, and this is what I said:

"You probably don’t realize this, but there are at least three “avowed atheists” and one Jewish person in the group of people you sent your emails to. Presumably none of them are going to be too worried about the movie’s supposed “anti-Christian” content. As for myself, I prefer to judge things on my own, not based on group hysteria, especially hysteria generated by people who haven’t even seen the movie yet. If I went with that mentality, I’d have missed the wonderful experience of reading the Harry Potter books and seeing the Harry Potter movies. Many great literature, theater, and movie experiences have been created by people with different belief systems, and the world would be a poorer place without diversity of opinion and belief."

{steps off soapbox}

That is all for today. Now I have to go find my copy of The Golden Compass, as it's suddenly leaped to the top of my TBR stacks.

Friday food

Warning: some of the images which follow are graphic and may induce queasiness, particularly among people who hate slimy fishy things. But really, the recipe's quite good.

This is a case of a recipe which sounded good at the outset; didn't seem too great while cooking, from either a sight or smell perspective; but ended up absolutely delicious.

First of all, is there anything less appealing to look at than raw chicken?

Blurgh. I love chicken, it's so versatile and can work in almost any cuisine or with any spice, but raw chicken--blech. Icky to look at, icky to touch.

It looks much better once it's been dredged in flour and lightly browned in oil, doesn't it?

Yeah. OK. So, this is where the graphic photos come in. While the chicken is cooking, the recipe calls for the preparation of a sauce involving chopped anchovies. Youngest Son came along and said he'd always wanted to try an anchovy. DH also came along and suggested that he'd pay Youngest Son a buck if Youngest Son ate a whole anchovy, $2 if he'd eat two. Never let it be said that Youngest Son isn't up for a challenge.

That was #2. He claimed #1 was yummy. He looked less sure after #2. But he did earn his $2. After declining the option to earn a third buck.

By then the general sliminess of anchovies had caught up with him, and he thought maybe he needed, what, a chaser? A palate cleanser? Warning--if you haven't been queasy yet, prepare yourself.

Yup--nothing goes down better with anchovies than a chocolate-iced Krispy Kreme doughnut.

Gads.

Fortunately, I still had some cooking to do. Very strongly scented cooking. While the chicken finishes, you make a sauce in a separate pan, which involves using red or white wine vinegar (I used red) and reducing it by half before adding chopped anchovies, capers, garlic, and parsley. The vinegar smelled amazing--to me--while cooking, but I bet to some people it's a bit much.

Overall, though, this was absolutely wonderful. Really, once you chop the anchovies, you hardly notice them. This was divine comfort food.

Oh--and it's called Chicken in Vinegar and Anchovy Sauce, and you can find it here.

Note to all who wondered how my mental health would be after seeing Frida Kahlo today: the trip to the Walker has been postponed due to Youngest Son's illness today. Unrelated to anchovy consumption.