cook pot stories

Wow, it's been awhile, hasn't it. I've been consumed by NaNoWriMo, a challenge to write a 50,000 word novel in one month. I've finished, so can now think about things like blogging again. If you're interested in my NaNoWriMo experience you can check out my other blog . I wrote about it a little there and will be writing more in the next few days. Right now, I want to write about Thanksgiving. If you're not a denizen of the US, Thanksgiving is our November harvest festival. You can read the background here . What it's come to mean for many American families is a gathering in one home with enormous amounts of food prepared by one harried family member. The feast is eaten, then everyone sits around in a stupor. This year, I was the harried family member. It's the first time I've hosted Thanksgiving. It went well. I'm still exhausted. But boy, was it yummy. I made all the traditional stuff - giant roasted turkey, stuffing (three different kinds), cra

It's been awhile since I've written here, not because I've not been eating (ha!) but because I've not had anything that really inspired me. While on a recent trip to Vancouver BC I had some wonderful food - a great bowl of Chinese noodle soup, wonderful cod and salmon, so on and and so forth - but it didn't inspire me to write. I'm not sure why. Since coming home I've cooked a little of this and a little of that, all good, but not stunning. It's taken a cucumber to inspire me to write. I had leftover hot and sour soup for dinner. It was takeout from a local Chinese place , one I've written about before, so it was pretty good, but I found myself still munchie. I looked in the pantry and considered popcorn. I thought about heating other leftovers, maybe the chicken mushroom stew from last night. And then I remembered I had a cucumber in the crisper and all my prayers were answered. Or at least some of them, the prayers of the moment. Peeled, sliced (I

I'm a decent cook. Some days I consider myself a good cook; every once in awhile I'm inspired. And when I'm inspired as often as not it's for a meal that's cooked in one pot. You might call it stew or soup. I usually call it glop and no two glops are the same. Last night I was inspired. I made what was essentially a chicken mole but kept playing with it. I dredged chicken in a mixture of flour and mole seasoning, sauted it, then added onions, garlic, potatoes, a can of black beans, more spices (including more mole, pepper, salt and some adobo ) and water. I let this all cook for awhile and then tasted it. I found it to be a bit flat, so I added a little more pepper and the magic ingredient: molasses. Once it cooked down it was wonderful. The sauce was rich and savory, wonderful to eat by itself with bread, while the chicken and beans were tender and delicious. I'm feeling pretty smug about the whole thing. It could have been disastorous, but ended up delightful

You're hungry. You haven't had a good meal in who knows how long. You're cold and tired and just worn out. You don't have access to a computer to read this blog - or to look for a job, or for a recipe if you had enough money for food anyway. Poverty stinks. On Blog Action Day bloggers around the world unity to make poverty history. You can too. Donate. Give time, give money, give your good spirit. Thanks.

This past weekend my sweetie and I went to the Topsfield Fair, a large agricultural fair. It was full of everything you'd expect - barns with beautiful livestock (it's good to remember where the meat we eat comes from)(there was one cow who was, I swear, a ham. She loved having her picture taken and got sulky when no one was nearby), giant pumpkins (the winner was over 1,400 lbs, yikes), a midway with games and rides, infomercials everywhere, and of course, food. Cider, fried dough, hot dogs, turkey legs, french fries, on and on and on. My favorite bite was a hot cider donught and a cup of hot cider. The worst was a texas onion ring, covered with so much slightly-off batter I couldn't finish one. The smells were overwhelming. When we got home all I really wanted was something clean and simple. The next day for dinner I made a butternut squash. I quartered it (actually, Kevin chopped it up with a cleaver for me - those suckers are tough), scraped out the seeds, then put it

Today is Yom Kippur, the Jewish holiday of repentance. While there are many aspects to the observance of this Holy Day for the purposes of a food blog there is really only one point need to make. Today we fast from sundown to sundown. It's a powerful ting, fasting deliberately as an act of sacrifice, so we understand deprivation. I felt my stomach growling, felt the emptiness, and remembered how lucky I am to have plenty. At sundown I broke my fast with apples and honey, sweetness for the new year. I am cleansed, my mouth is sweet and I am reminded of the riches that surround me. (c) 2008 Laura S. Packer

There is a popular fairy tale from the Brothers Grimm that tells of a soldier, on his way home from war, who stops in a village and asks the townspeople for a bite to eat. They all refuse to share anything with him though they clearly have plenty. He is a wily man, so in his desperation he finds an old pot, builds a fire in the middle of the town square and heats the pot filled only with water and a stone. One by one the townspeople who had refused him come by to see what he’s doing; he tells them he’s making stone soup, the most delicious soup in the world. None of them want to admit they’ve never heard of it so all agree that yes, stone soup is exquisite. For every visitor who agrees with him he then sighs and says that his stone soup would be better still if only he had some carrots. Or cabbage. Or onions. Or… And one by one each of the villagers says that they have carrots. Or cabbage. Or onions. Or… They run back to home to fetch their ingredients for the pot. By the end the whole

Before I go any further in this post, I need to tell you that the name is borrowed from a wonderful creative space in Jamaica Plain, Massachusetts. Spontaneous Celebrations is a multicultural home for art and creativity. Check it out. My own spontaneous celebration happened this weekend. I believe it's important to live big, but know it's hard to do so; this weekend was a good example of the weekend conspiring to help me. I've blogged about the weekend as a whole in True Stories, Honest Lies . On Saturday my friend Serene called and asked if we would like to have dinner with her husband and herself. For once we could easily say yes and invited them for dinner. My initial thought was to order something in, but it's hard to eat healthy food when it's delivered. It is, at best, quick food . So I decided to cook. I wanted to use what I had in the house as much as possible, and I admit, I got a little excited. The first course: - dried apricots with a dab of chevre and

I should have taken a picture, but I didn't, so you'll just have to take my word for it. I made the best pork roast last night. It looked as good as it tasted. And I used herbs from the garden! I don't know how much the roast weighed, so you'll have to improvise. Take 1 boneless pork roast, the kind that's tied with string. It should have some fat on at least one side. Rub the inside (between the two halves) with a mixture of salt, pepper and a little sugar. Peel and roughly slice an entire head of garlic. If your fingers are garlicky afterwards you can always rinse them in lemon juice, that helps. Tuck maybe 12 pieces of garlic, four rosemary sprigs and at least four sage leaves into the roast, between the two halves. It will look nice if a little of the rosemary is sticking out. Preheat the oven to 450. Poke at least 15 holes in the less fatty side of the roast. Shove a garlic slice into each hole. Rub this side with the salt, pepper and sugar blend. Pull a rosema

I had a luxurious weekend. My friend Amy visited from the wilds of Maine and requested, nay demanded Chinese food. We met in Chinatown and began to eat our way into oblivion. We had lunch at Peach Farm , a restaurant with great food and the ambiance of a speak easy. It's a basement locale with no windows, some mirrors to lighten the space and formica tables. But the food.... oh, the food. We shared spicy salted shrimp with heads (they had been alive ten minutes before we ate them) and green beans with pork. The shrimp were oh-my-god-I'm-in-heaven good. They were crisp on the outside, succulent on the inside. Each one was a pink crunch of crispy sharpness in my mouth, followed by sweet and saltiness. Some people are put off by eating them with heads, but really they are the best part. Crunchy and flavorful. They looked something like this. The string bean with shredded pork was a wonderful accompaniment and allowed us to pretend we were eating something healthy. It was at least

you scream, we all scream for ice cream. Last night I went to Toscanini 's for a storytelling event. While I listened to some good tales I had one of my favorite decadent ice creams - butter chip. No, it doesn't have chips of frozen butter. Well, kind of no. Let me start at the beginning. Tosci's makes luscious ice cream. The building is cool and hip, it doesn't smell too sweet as do many ice cream places, the music is good and the furniture is comfortable. And did I mention the ice cream is out of this world? They used to make my favorite ice cream topping in the world, burnt caramel sauce, but not anymore, oh well. I still go for the 'scream. Their flavor selection changes regularly, but they often have some kind of spiced ice cream (cinammon, cardamon, etc) some kind of beer ice cream (Guinness) and all the standards. It's very rich and creamy, just the way ice cream should be. Except for butter chip. Imagine the best chocolate chip ice cream you've ever

I started this blog thinking I would write about transcendent food. I'm finding myself writing about comfort. About history. About the meaning of what I eat. And so often what is meaningful seems to be what isn't quite healthy. What that says about me may be transparent but I'll choose not to investigate it. I was in Philadelphia this past weekend, helping out a friend. I grew up in Philly, though I left 20 years ago. It's a city with a distinct cuisine, one I miss even though I have certainly embraced the cuisines I've moved to. Steak sandwiches. Soft pretzels. Hoagies (no, not subs or grinders or heroes. Hoagies). This is the local food of my hometown. Sure, you can get a steak or a hoagie anywhere. But it's not the same. Maybe it's the air, the water, the accent of the cook. I don't know. But local foods - should I say regional foods instead? - need local flavor to taste right. A steak anywhere else just isn't as good. When I moved to Boston so ma

Oh, this is embarrassing, but those things that offer us the most comfort often are. I have a friend who, in her darkest times, still sleeps with her teddy bear even though she's in her 40s. I have another friend who watches Sesame Street and counts along with the Count, even though he's been out of college for many years. And me? I could tell you quite a few secrets here, all the embarrassing comfort things I do. I won't. Instead I'll just tell you about dinner last night. I was tired. I was cranky. And I wanted something really easy. All the leftovers were just too... leftover. You know what I mean. I made Hamburger Helper. I didn't improvise with browned ground beef, fresh herbs from the garden with noodles and tomatoes and other yummy stuff. I didn't create some lovely faux stroganoff. No. I pulled a pound of ground beef out of the freezer, I grabbed the box off the shelf and I made dinner in 15 minutes flat. It was salty, gooey, unhealthy, comforting and yu

Can I just say I *love* sweet and spicy or sweet and salty? Thanks. I needed to say that. This past weekend I made brownies for a potluck. I used my current favorite brownie recipe (the one on the Baker's Unsweetened Chocolate package) and then added spices. Oh. Oh oh oh were they good. I often add a bit of chili powder but this time I added Indian spices and the brownies filled my whole mouth with long, lingering flavor and heat. Almost everyone at the potluck liked them, a few people thought they were too much, that's okay. Roughly speaking, here's what to do: Make a batch of brownies. When the batter is ready add a spice blend, including: - Cardamom - Cinnamon - Cloves - Black Pepper - Ginger - Nutmeg - Chili (not much) I can't tell you how much of each I added, I kept pouring it into my hand, blending and adding the mix about a teaspoon at a time. Alternatively, buy some Indian tea spice powder and use that. Keep mixing it in and tasting it. Bake as usual. Enjoy. Mm

When I was in first grade we were asked to name our favorite foods and television shows. I unfashionably answered, "Liver and creamed spinach and NOVA ." (For those of you who may not know, NOVA is a science program on PBS.) It took years to live that down. I still like unfashionable food and television. Among my old favorites are beets. They seem to be having something of a resurgence now, but for a long time people would squinch up their faces at the thought of them and say, "Yuck." I love them. Their ruby stain on the cutting board, the earthy taste and smell. They speak to me of health and time and old ways of doing things. As a kid we'd eat cold bottled borscht with a swirl of sour cream and it was heaven. I'd let it stain my clothing on purpose, watching the color run. A few nights ago I roasted beets from our farm share. They were wonderful. Roasted beets. One version. Take a bunch of beets. Cut off the tops and save them for later. Scrub the bulbs, c

I've been traveling for the last week, sleeping in a hotel room and eating in restaurants. I like eating out, but the town I was staying in didn't have much of anything I cared for. It was a tourist town and everything was quick food. Even the better restaurants were marginal. I'm home now. When I come home from long trips, I need to cook. It's one of the best ways I know to center myself, to feel as though I'm truly at home. By spending time in my kitchen, working with spices and good food, I re-establish myself in my own space. As I write, chicken is roasting. I've stuffed organic garlic slices under the skin and rubbed it down with salt and pepper. Brown rice with thyme is simmering. In a little while I'll chop and steam the chard I picked from the garden.  When I eat dinner tonight it will be good food, made with own hands in my own time. I'm home. (c) 2008 Laura S. Packer

This past weekend I rode my bike in the Pan Mass Challenge , a fund raising ride for the Dana Farber Cancer Center. It was a long ride and truthfully, I wasn't prepared. You can read about the ride on my other blog . What was interesting and relevant to this blog was trying to figure out how to feed myself during the ride. Endurance sports have specific nutritional requirements - carbs, lots of hydration, some protein. And I had no appetite before the ride, so I was riding on very little fuel. I made myself eat the best I could, but nothing, and I mean nothing, tasted good. For those of you who know me, you know how odd that is. Midway through the only thing that tasted good was cantaloupe. Sweet, wet, orange and exactly what my body wanted. It occured to me that I might be able to eat and thus finish the ride if I just shut up and listened. I generally try to listen to what my body tells me it wants. Sweet, salty, savory, crunchy, soft, etc. It can be hard to really hear what my

This past weekend I went to the Lowell Folk Festival. There was a lot of great music and performance and Lowell, MA is a neat town. And there was food. Many of the local civic associations set up booths to highlight their cuisine. Lao. Cambodian. Polish. Thai. Portuguese. On and on. The single most amazing thing I ate was a Philipino fried banana. Wrapped in a lumpia wrapper (like a thin eggroll skin) and deep fried, it was simply ecstatic. And very hot. This is the closest recipe I could find, though I don't think the one I ate had cinammon. My mouth is watering just thinking about it. Turron (Banana Lumpia) 4 firm, ripe bananas 2 tablespoons brown sugar 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon 6 lumpia wrappers Oil for frying Cut bananas lengthwise into thirds. Combine sugar and cinnamon. Place two banana pieces on each lumpia wrapper; sprinkle sugar mixture over banana pieces. Wrap like an envelope, sealing edges with water. Heat oil and fry lumpia until golden brown. Drain on absorben

When I was a little girl we would go for long drives in our VW van around Pennsylvania and New Jersey (NJ is more than the Sopranos, you know). Sometimes we would go for camping trips with our old canvas tent, look at the stars and stop off at farm stands. Sometimes we'd go to some farmland we owned in rural Pennsylvania.  At the farm stands we would get tomatoes. Real tomatoes. Red and heavy and tangy and god! were they good. I still have not recovered from my love of Jersey tomatoes bought at farm stands. And peaches. A bushel at a time. We just couldn't resist them. They were so lovely and coy and cheap. The car would be redolent with that scent, warm and sweet.  As soon as we piled back into the van we would start to ask each other, "What are we going to with all those peaches?" But we knew. We would go back to our campsite or home and eat. I would press the fuzzy flesh to my lips, letting it tickle just a little bit and smell the dusty summer scent. My teeth woul

Last night I indulged in sushi. I went to my favorite local sushi joint, Sushi Corner in Melrose MA . It's a pretty basic place, but they have very good fish, well prepared and nicely presented. More importantly, they have excellent rice. The more sushi I eat the more I think it's about the rice. The fish, as you undoubtedly know, must be fresh, well chosen and well cut. The fish matters tremendously. Most people who are unsure of sushi are hung up on the raw fish aspect; I'm not going to try to convert you, but trust me, it can be wonderful. But the rice is the foundation of sushi. The word sushi refers to the seasoned rice, not to the rice and fish in combination (nigiri and maki refer to rice with stuff in different formations). If the rice isn't well cooked, well seasoned and well shaped, the whole thing just falls apart. Here's a quick look at each aspect and why I was so happy last night. Cooking. Let's face it, undercooked rice is crunchy and annoying. O

Somedays I love arugula . Other days it just seems harsh and bitter. No metaphor here, move along, this is a food blog, that's all. Today is one of the days where it tastes as though it's biting me back, too tart for my tongue. Other days I love it, the rich, robust earthiness of it. Funny how one day to the next, taste can change. Too, I think the plant itself varies considerably in it's flavor. Maybe this batch grew in soil where it was mocked by nearby plants and some of the bitterness seeped into its leaves. Arugula is also known as rockette, maybe because the wrong bite can set your mouth in fire. According to various foodlore sources arugula kills intestinal parasites, so can cause violent reactions when eaten. If this blog entry breaks off suddenly you'll know what happened. I'm looking forward to another batch of arugula that I love, one that isn't at war with my taste buds. For now though I can at least simply enjoy the word - arugula . Say it. It feel

I eat too much crap. I'm not alone in this, most people I know do, but jeez... the eternal conflict between time, nutrition and yumminess is a tough one. I've read the books - Real Food , The Omnivore's Dilemma , Slow Food , etc etc. I know the arguments for eating well, taking your time when preparing a meal, savoring what you eat. I believe this is a better way to live. It's better for body and spirit. But I don't always have the time. I have trouble believing anyone - alright, anyone who has a job - does. I try to eat food that honors the earth and my body. And I often fail. When I can, when I have the time, I cook good meals; I use good ingredients, I think about what I put into my body, I close my eyes and savor my bites. But when I'm getting ready for work in the morning I'm in a rush. I need stuff I can deal with quickly, pack easily, eat at my desk without much fuss, mess or aroma and it's off to the races. If I'm careful I pack fruit, cheese

When I was in Rio a few years ago I was served a slab of palm heart, bark still attached, in a fancy restaurant. I was told it was a salad, though it looked kind of like a tree to me. I ate it with some initial trepidation, not quite sure how to eat a tree, but found it had a wonderful taste and texture. I felt like a panda might feel upon finding a particularly delicate bit of bamboo. I remember slicing into the ivory flesh in that dim space, surrounded by voices full of silibant Portuguese and knowing I was someplace very far from home. I have become fond of palm heart salad since then. It's as much a textural food as a taste food and, while I can't duplicate the slab-o'-tree, with canned palm heart and good olive oil I can pretend I'm in the tropics again, surrounded by heat, humidity and possibility. Palm heart possibility salad Drain one can or bottle of palm hearts. Give them a quick rinse in a stream of cool water, but don't let them soak or linger in the wat

I love chinese food. This is not a short-lived, little fling, no, not this love. This is one of the great passionate true loves of my life. Actually, let me clarify. I love good chinese food, not cheap suburban overcooked, too-greasy, chinese food cooked by people who have forgotten the history and mystery of the land that spawned the cuisine. I know saying chinese food is a misnomer. China is a huge place, encompassing many different languages, cultures and foodways, but at least in America when we say "chinese food" we're referring to a general type of cooking. It's likely the food is cut into pieces small enough to be handled with chopsticks, there is a wok in the kitchen and white rice is served. And for me, it includes comfort, variety of flavor and texture, potential adventure and more. A few nights ago I had wonderful spicy dumplings from my local chinese restaurant, Fuloon . I'm fortunate, this place is within walking distance and is very good. I don'

This is what made me decide to start this blog. In my other blog I was writing about the afterlife and declared that I hoped there would be tomato-cucumber salad there. I included the recipe, though it wasn't quite relevant for the conversation. Here it is again, just for fun. Tomato-cucumber salad Inspired by various Mediterranean chopped salads, made up by me. Perfect for a summer day. Or when you want to be reminded of summer. Take a couple of lovely, heavy, ripe tomatoes. Cut them in half and scoop out the seeds. This will sting if you have any scrapes or cracks in your hands. Chop the tomatoes into small pieces. Put it in a good sized bowl. A pretty one. Take a cucumber. I usually peel it some, but not entirely. Slice it in half the long way and run your thumb down the inside, scraping the seeds out. You can use a spoon, but this is more fun. Chop up the cucumber and add it to the tomato. Find an onion that seems non-threatening. Peel it, dice it and add it to the bowl of vegg

Fine. I did it. I'm starting a food blog. I've been resisting writing about food in my other blog because that's supposed to be about writing, storytelling and life. But I keep wanting to. So here. I've given myself a place to write about eating, cooking, chopping, smelling, stirring, spices, etc etc. What finally launched me was that salad I made yesterday. We belong to a farm share , a way to get fresh, mostly organic veggies that are locally grown. It's a great idea, but means we end up with a lot of radishes (or other stuff) sometimes. It can be hard to use everything and I hate to see it rot. So I made this last night. Like most of my recipes, all amounts are approximate. Miscellaneous chopped salad Mix in a bowl: 1 kholrabi, peeled and julienned 4 salad turnips, peeled and julienned some tender bok choy stems (8? 9?) chopped 6 or 7 radishes, chopped a bunch of scallions, chopped I imagine you could also add: water chestnuts and other crunchy not-too-sweet veg