A culinary report

Last night I fixed Welsh Rarebit, something my mom used to fix. No, it's not rabbit. Somewhere I read a colorful description of the term, indicating it meant "small serving," but now all I can find is the idea that Welsh peasants ate it when they couldn't afford rabbit--or weren't allowed to eat rabbit by the Lords of the land. (I may have blogged about the other version and if so I apologize for repeating myself.) At any ate, it is a thick, seasoned cheese sauce served over toast--Mom used to serve it on saltines for Sunday supper. The best recipe I have calls for stout and white cheddar, but I'm a believer in using what you have--and I had Coors Light and Cracker Barrel extra sharp cheddar. You make a butter and flour roux, seasoned with Worcestershire and dry mustard, and then stir in the cheese. This particular recipe calls for pickling red onion slices in vinegar, water, sugar and salt--they do add a piquant touch. Anyway, I served Jacob his (sans onons), and he, the child who loves cheese toast, took one look and said, "I don't like it." I ate mine and part of his and ended up fixing him a hot dog, but I swear I am going to stop substituting for foods that he doesn't like without even trying. I'm ready to believe kids have innate dislikes--Jamie, my best eater, couldn't and still can't abide mushrooms and lamb. So be it. But not without tasting. I raised my kids with a three bites for politeness rule, and I still think it's a good idea. Meantime, I like the the rarebit.
Tonight, sans Jacob, I fixed sardines and spaghetti. The sardines were good but what makes the dish is a topping of sauteed capers (have you ever fried them? They blossom (open) and turn a darker shade--delicious). You mix the capers with fried bread crumbs, a bit of dill (I couldn't taste it, which was okay), and salt and pepper. It's a recipe I'll keep and try again.
I went through recipes today, looking for casseroles for a couple of upcoming dinners and finding things I wanted to cook for myself, like tuna cakes, a layered dish of green beans, smoked salmon, and egg salad (why can't I use the spinach in my fridge), and a salad dressing I haven't made in ages that is, to say the least, robust.
Jamie is in New York and called Thursday night to say he sent me an innovative present but had to send it overnight and it would come Friday. It didn't but it was here today--a 2 lb. corned beef brisket from Carnegie Deli in Manhattan. Pre-cooked. I invited Jay and Susan to share it Monday night and will invite Sue to join us tomorrow. I'll serve it with a salad of avocado, watercress and beets and that robust dressing and then colcannon. The latter is an Irish recipe mixing mashed potatoes, cooked cabbage, and onion. I debated between that and Reubens, but colcannon won out--I've always wanted to cook it.
All this about food is not making me the least bit hungry--that sardine pasta was filling!
The sun came out today, the snow melted, and we almost have our world back, though it will take a few days for all the snow to disappear. Meanwhile, it leaves mud in its wake. When I set off for the grocery this morning, the driveway was iffy--Jordan was sure I couldn't make it, but I did. Then she couldn't walk down the incline and had to cut across the yard to the sidewalk--I almost offered her my cane. When I came home, it was a bit iffy getting up the incline, but I held firm--and slow--and all was fine. Tonight all snow on the drive is gone except for the grassy (mud) portion in the middle. I honestly do remember how to drive on snow but that was the only time today I had to use my great skill. Streets were clear, and it was lovely to see the sun and to get out of the house.

So many recipes, so little time

Tonight I was leafing through my file of "Entrees Tried," looking for my tried-and-true directions (mostly time per lb.) for roasting a turkey. (Jean reminded me by phone that it will take a lot longer at 9500 feet in Breckenridge.) But I found lots of things that made me think, "Oh, I haven't tried that in a while." One was Welsh rarebit made with stout--delicious! Another was my wine casserole that I always called Judy's Sloppy Joe. And there were others--sometimes it makes me long for the days when I cooked for five of us and could use those recipes and many more over and over. You just don't cook things like that for one.
So what did I cook for one tonight? I kept eyeing the leftover roast chicken in the fridge, but I wasn't sure what to do with it. Besides, I keep remembering that Christian found the cat nibbling at it. But then I remembered I had mushrooms and a zucchini, so I sliced some of the zucchini, drizzled it with olive oil and Parmesan (the good grated parmegiano Reggiano) and broiled it--found when I ate it I should have added salt, so rushed back to the kitchen for a pinch of Kosher salt. I wiped the mushrooms with a wet paper towel--my mom used to douse them in salt water and she did get a lot of dirt out, but I have since been convinced by those who know more than I do that mushrooms absorb a lot of the salty water. So I wipe them. Sliced them and sauteed in a mix of butter and olive oil, sprinkled on a bit of Worcestershire and poured them over toast. Mom used to serve both sauteed mushrooms and steamed asparagus on buttered toast--I've since been told that's very British. But it was a satisfying meal for a cold evening--and cold it is, down to 23 tonight. It's been cold for days, and I'm tired of it, but I know the rest of the country is really in blizzard conditions so I won't complain too much. Besides, by Saturday it is predicted to be in the 60s Here's hoping.
The other thing that made me think I want to cook so many dishes is a cookbook. This afternoon, there was an Amazon box on my doorstep, and I opened it--I order from them all the time, so couldn't remember what I'd ordered, but it was something I hadn't ordered, a Christmas present from John and Cindy: The Silver Spoon Italian cookbook, a humongous book of 1264 pages and who knows how many categories of food. The ribbon place mark opened the book to the chapter on anchovies. Now I love anchovies--lots of people don't--but there are wonderful recipes for frying, serving au gratin, with truffles, and layered with potatoes. Fortunately I have neighbors who also love anchovies. Last Sunday I found a bit of salad dressing in a jar in the fridge and decided to use it for supper, since Jay was coming and he doesn't like Jordan's traditional blue cheese dressing. The minute I poured the dressing on I smelled anchovies and thought, "Oh, oh!" Everyone else commented at the dinner table that the dressing smelled of anchovies, and Christian said I'd have to go back to my other dressings. It was a recipe Sue had given me, but it may have gotten a bit stronger sitting in the fridge. Not much salad was eaten that night, and I threw away about a head of lettuce. Hurts my Scottish soul at the price of leaf lettuce these days!
More about the recipes I find in The Silver Spoon to come. I'm glancing now at a chapter on shad--I'm not even sure what shad is, except that it's a fish.
Some days I really wish I could run a restaurant to fix all these things but talk about a foolish pipe dream! Neither my bank account nor my feet would hold out.

Welsh rarebit and some grammar dos and don'ts

The houseparty continued this morning though, for me, it got off to an abrupt start. Gayla said last night she wouldn't be going out for the paper before I was awake, so I didn't remind her about the alarm system. About 7:15, I was dozing, hearing those earlybirds chatter but far too comfortable and sleepy to get up when the alarm blasted me out of bed. She'd gone for the paper. So we lingered over coffee and cinnamon toast, and then Jordan called to say she and Jacob were coming for breakfast, but she had to get him home by ten--long story. So I cooked, making Welsh rarebit, something my mom used to serve on Sunday nights. I fixed it some when the kids were young, but I remember one night when a teen-age Colin looked at the toast on his plate, covered with thick cheese sauce, and asked, "This is dinner?' In spite of the fact that many people refer to Welsh rabbit, it has nothing to do with four-legged bunnies. The name comes from the Welsh caws (rare or barely cooked) pobi (a bit or small serving). Mom used to make it with whatever beer she and Dad had in the house, but I found a recipe in Gourmet for doing it with Guiness Stout--and was lucky enough to buy a single bottle instead of a six-pack. You make a white sauce with flour, butter, stout, and water; season with salt and pepper, Worcestershire, and dry mustard. At the last minute, you add sharp cheddar and let it melt. Spoon the sauce over toasted peasant bread--I used sourdough. Best thing I learned was a quick way to pickle onion slices: heat 1/4 c. vinegar with 2 tsp. sugar, add onion slices, and when it comes to a boil, remove from the heat and let stand. Delicious on the rarebit.Works best I suspect with red onions. Jacob had two "awful waffles" and Jordan and I succombed to second servings of rarebit. She admitted it sounded familiar. By 10:30 everyone was gone, and I felt like it was three o'clock in the afternoon. Frittered away the morning and did something I never do--skipped lunch, but I was so full! I'm a big believer in breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and even when I eat brunch, I usually eat something--maybe just cottage cheese--for lunch but not today. Didn't miss it. By the by, Gayla told me this morning that Gourmet has ceased publication. I took it for a while, but the recipes were often too complicated and I prefer Bon Appetit, which is my bible. Still, I miss the idea of Gourmet, and I wonder what Ruth Reichl will do next. I love her books!

And I had a light supper from the "cook with what you have" school. I had bought scallops yesterday, so they needed to be used (I have so many leftovers, I kind of regretted that). But I sauteed them with a couple of large mushrooms, sliced, and a slice of onion; made a salad of watercress (left from decorating the rarebit), blue cheese, tomato and lemon with just a slight splash of olive oil. So good.

Some grammar things that have bothered me of late (or always): don't they teach in school that the punctuation goes inside the quote marks? It should be "The boy said hello." And not "The boy said hello". Same is true for everything except semi-colons and colons; if the sentence is a question that ends with a quote, then the question mark goes outside; otherwide, inside. And it's 1990s, not 1990's. There's nothing possive about it. Same thing: she got As in school, not A's, etc. And finally, I'm reading a great mystery that I really enjoy (not naming so as not to embarrass either the author or editor) but the protagonist keeps saying she wishes she could get "ahold" of something. It's get hold, not ahold. Now, when I'm trying to write western dialogue, in a pale imitation of Elmer Kelton, I may write "ahorseback" but it's a deliberate thing. I know better. Ahold is not the right word.

And finally I wish the Republicans would shed bitter partisanship for just a bit and rejoice that an American president won the Nobel Peace Prize. We should be proud for our country, instead of wrangling about he hasn't been in office long enough, he just got it because he isn't George W. Bush, etc. Hey, folks, this is America--united we stand, divided we fall, and folks like Rush Limbaugh and Glenn Beck are doing their alarming best to divide us. Pray for worldwide peace for all, and pray America can be a leader in achieving that goal.