Saturdaying

January 30, 2010

At first glance, you might think that this picture has nothing to do with food.

Wrong.

See, I was holding a croissant, a cup of coffee, and a large bunch of keys while trying to take this picture with my iPhone (which, as you may know, most definitely requires two hands if they happen to be scrawny ones).  The result?  To protect, in the order of importance:

  1. iPhone
  2. coffee
  3. croissant

…I ended up dropping the keys into a crevice between two boulders.  Five-foot tall, closely spaced boulders.  By a frozen lake.  On a 5-degree day.

So yeah, this has to do with comestibles.  Apparently, to my subconscious mind, they are more important than access to my home, job, and car?

And the rest…

January 29, 2010

A peek at a few dishes that I’ve been hiding from you out of sheer deep midwinter lethargy:

We’ll miss you.

Roasted vegetable lasagna

January 25, 2010


Here’s the recipe I was originally going to share:

Wretched January

  • 1 earthquake
  • 1 removal of limits on corporate campaign financing
  • 1 healthcare reform bill at risk of deflating like a botched soufflé
  • 1 f#@%ing roof leak
  1. Combine all ingredients.
  2. Season with endless hours of darkness.
  3. Serve cold.

But, I actually have a cheery addendum.  Mr. Onepot informed me earlier that a lasagna would make him feel better–this from a man who never makes food requests!  I mean, he’s equally happy regardless of whether he’s eating a decadent multi-course meal or some strange whole grain/mystery fungus experiment of mine.  So how was I to say no?

Roasted vegetable lasagna

  • 3 red bell peppers
  • 2 zucchini

(What’s that?  You’re about to tell me that those are not in season?   You know what’s in season in Chicago right now?  Icicles.  So let’s move on, shall we?)

  • 1 medium onion
  • 1 lb frozen spinach
  • 1 lb cottage cheese
  • 1 28oz can diced tomatoes
  • 2 8oz cans tomato sauce
  • 1 box no-boil lasagna noodles
  • a fistful of shredded cheddar, a bit of parmesan, and some gorgonzola crumbles
  • capers
  • salt and pepper to taste
  1. I seasoned the first 3 ingredients and roasted them at 400F for 25 minutes.
  2. Then I combined them with spinach, cottage cheese, and diced tomatoes.  Yup–all together just like that.
  3. Then it was time to layer, and there’s really nothing to tell.  I used 1 little can of tomato sauce under the bottom noodle layer and the other on the very top.  In between: a layer of vegetable+cottage cheese mixture, a sprinkling of other cheeses, a layer of noodles, and so on and so forth until I ran out of ingredients…
  4. …and heaved the overflowing dish, cursing a little, into the 380-degree oven.  It spent the first 45 minutes in there bashfully covered with aluminum foil, and the final 10 minutes naked, under a sprinkling of cheese and capers.

Ah, it was good.  And, as we patted our full bellies, we started to feel just a tad hopeful again.

For starters: the roofer comes tomorrow.

Saturdaying

January 23, 2010

You know what I cooked on this lusciously lazy Thursday night?  Not a damn thing. (Well, I guess I did brownify the garlic in some olive oil before tossing it over the arugula–but that hardly counts.)

And now, having licked my fingers, I’m wondering why we don’t have sandwiches more often.  Why is my imagination a barren tundra when it comes to thinking of scrumptious, non-traditional things to squeeze between two chunks of bread?  Dear reader, please help me out.  What must I try?

Banana “ice cream”

January 19, 2010

Have you tried The Kitchn’s banana “ice cream” recipe?  You know, the one where frozen bananas are supposed to magically morph into creamy perfection?  I had been meaning to give it  a shot for a while, and was finally propelled into action when faced with three sad frozen bananas during our empty-the-freezer-for-Mr.-Repairman process the other night.

It really is as simple as it sounds: you blend frozen bananas.  And, it’s rather decent.  I mean, it tastes just like you imagine it would: cold, fluffy ‘nanas that you can effortlessly tackle even if you accidentally leave your dentures upstairs by the sink.

What was that, reader?  Not enough animal flesh chez Onepot?  Well, does a bird’s breast count?  If so, this one is for you: a dish inspired by two chicken breasts in desperate search of a recipe following their eviction from out of our soon-to-be defrosted freezer.  (Hello, obscenely expensive refrigerator repairs!)

Baked chicken with pesto + yellow peppers + olives + tomatoes

  • 2 chicken breasts
  • 1 small onion
  • 1 small yellow pepper
  • 3 tablespoons pesto
  • 1 can diced tomatoes
  • a handful of black olives
  1. Cut the first three ingredients into strips and toss with pesto.
  2. Bake at 400F (if your oven is puny like mine… but perhaps yours would tackle this even at 375F?) for approximately 20 minutes.
  3. Cover with olives and tomatoes and bake for another 10 minutes.
  4. Admire the prettiness!  (Accompanying couscous and green salad highly recommended, but certainly not required.)

Sundaying

January 17, 2010

You know what I just spent 74 minutes doing?  Chiseling ice out of a troublesome spot on our rooftop deck, prompted by a fresh ceiling stain on the floor below.   The endeavor involved a hair dryer, an extension cord, a towel, a broom, a pair of scissors, copious cursing, fingertips teetering on the very edge of frostbite, and a moist wind nipping at my arse three stories above a frozen lake.

So!  Now that you know all about my Friday evening, how about that soup I promised you in the title?

Leek and potato soup with a twist

  • 4-5 fingerling potatoes
  • 1 blue potato
  • 2 purple yams
  • 1 turnip
  • 1 leek
  • 10 cups water
  • 1 can coconut milk
  • something pretty for garnish
  • salt and pepper to taste
  • any other seasonings you feel like (let’s see… I seem to recall some lemon pepper and oregano)
  1. Boil all the vegetables in seasoned water until tender (approximately 20 minutes).
  2. Add coconut milk.
  3. Blend in the food processor, or with one of these magic bunnies.

The end product was rather surprising to me, I must say.  It almost had a licorice-like undertone (purple yams, is that you?), but not to the point where a licorice-hater (moi) would be turned off.

And let me just say, on a final note, that I fully realize that my faint ceiling spot and my soup with fancy tubers are truly ridiculous compared to what’s going on in Haiti as I type.  My heart hurts.