cook pot stories

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...