We’re here. There’s so much to do and see. Mostly it has looked like this – W chasing pigeons and us trying not to lose him. It was a long trek to get here – two attempts to take off and two stints with mechanics on the plane trying to fix things before they gave up and took us back to the terminal. (Poor W: after over an hour on the plane he thought we were in New York, and we were back at the gate in Calgary.) Eventually they put us on another plane, we arrived close to midnight and had to navigate the subway from New Jersey, in the dark and drizzling rain with our luggage and plenty of post-soccer game revellers. But when we woke up we were in New York, and I’ve been on the verge of tears all day over the New Yorkness of it all. Mostly I’m already plotting a way to get back.
I went for dinner tonight with a bunch of food bloggers from Babble, all of whom I instantly loved. (I got on the wrong subway, trying to be all urban-know-it-all, and wound up uptown instead of downtown. But that’s another story.) And now I’m having trouble transferring my photos (this one’s from my phone) and my computer keeps freezing. And it’s 1 am, and we have another long day of checking stuff out tomorrow. So I’ll keep you posted.
PS. Today: Times Square, Central Park, the Natural History Museum. Pizza at Ray’s.
November 05 2010 | leftovers | 27 Comments »
Deep fried mini Mars bars.
I know! I’m a terrible influence. It sounds so hideous, but wow – these babies are tasty. You wouldn’t balk at an apple fritter, right? And I bet you’ve snuck a chocolate bar or two from the kids’ bag, hidden in the closet, after they fall asleep? Combine the two (plus, yes, an apple) and you have yourself a deep-fried Mars bar. (I can justify any expense, monetary or caloric.)
If you’re going to make a deep fried Mars bar (you’ll be amazed how easy it is) it really is best to use the little two-bite ones, rather than a whole ginormous full-sized bar. You wind up with something the size of a beignet, with a gooey chocolate-caramel interior. If you’re looking for something fun and sweet for a party, this here is classic once-a-year food.
Tell me more…
November 05 2010 | leftovers | 6 Comments »
We’re leaving for New York in the morning. (I HOPE – I did the web check-in and while M and W’s boarding passes have seats assigned, mine has an ominous GTE where my seat should be…) I just finished teaching a bacon class, and I realized I haven’t told you about my potato condo yet! I built a potato condo! I grew my own potatoes! In my back yard! I’m an urban potato farmer! For real!
Let me rewind. And calm down a little bit.
W has a new favourite book, called Two Old Potatoes and Me. Which I noticed in Rod & Chad’s truck (Calgary’s urban SPIN farmers) when I went out to photograph them for this story. I recognized it immediately, as one of his previous favourite books was by the same illustrator. So. I bought it at the farmers’ market, and we read about planting seed potatoes – those shriveled-up ones that start to grow eyes, and piling up dirt on top of them. Building a potato condo – a neighbour had built one this spring – enables you to pile the dirt up, giving them more space to grow upwards, which is what they normally do in their little hills of dirt on the ground – without taking up too much space. And so when we put in our garden, I took the galvanized steel garbage pail I tried to turn into a smoker a couple summers ago (with little success) and turned it into a potato condo.
Here’s what you do: put about a foot of dirt in the bottom and bury a few potatoes. Or if you have bigger ones with lots of eyes, do as Carolyn says in the story and cut them into chunks, making sure each piece has an eye protruding from it, before planting it. When the greens poke through the top, load on more dirt and compost. We went away to Tofino and came back to a can full of greens. You won’t smother them by piling on the dirt, although it seems to go against what little I do know about gardening. You water it, and pile on more dirt if more leaves burst through.
And then you wait until the first frost, until the plant dies, and then wait another two weeks. You can, of course, dip your hand in and grab a handful of potatoes anytime you fancy. (How satisfying a feeling is that – running out to the back yard to pluck new potatoes straight from the dirt?)
Once fall settles in (which it hasn’t done yet, but I don’t want to leave for a week and leave them out for a deep freeze) you can tip your container over and dump the contents, and sort through the dirt for potatoes. Potatoes! POTATOES I GREW MYSELF IN MY OWN BACK YARD (damn it’s tough to type and pat myself on the back at the same time).
New York!
New York!
Bacon Smashed Potatoes
I thought if this was to be German potato salad-esque, grainy mustard would be in order, so I added a squirt and left out the dill. (Although Brassica makes a dill mustard that would be pretty fab in this, come to think of it.) It was adapted from here.
2 lb. thin-skinned potatoes, cut into chunks if they need it
a few (or several) slices bacon, coarsely chopped
2-3 Tbsp. apple cider vinegar
1 Tbsp. grainy mustard
1 tsp. sugar
salt and pepper
Steam potatoes in a steaming basket or in an inch or two of boiling water, covered, until very tender, 20 to 25 minutes.
Meanwhile, cook bacon in a heavy skillet over medium heat until crisp. Transfer bacon with a slotted spoon to paper towels to drain, reserving fat in skillet. Add 2 tablespoons vinegar, mustard, sugar, and a bit of salt and pepper to the hot bacon drippings, scraping up the browned bits.
Transfer potatoes to a large bowl, reserving 1/2 cup of the steaming water. Add vinegar mixture to potatoes and smash with a potato masher to desired texture, adding reserved water if you like to thin it a bit.
November 03 2010 | veg | 21 Comments »
I’ve been trying to get rid of all that will potentially go slimy before we leave – for New York! New York!! It’s been booked for weeks, but I’m just realizing it now. We’re going to New York! All 3 of us. In a little over 24 hours. Yowzah.
But first, I have muchas work to get done, and we have to eat our beet greens.
We grew beets in the back this year, but the greens flourished far more than the beets themselves. (Ditto the radishes, which were virtually nonexistent underground, but high and leafy up top.) I’ve cooked with beet greens before, but given the choice I’d pick kale or chard. However. We had plenty that were about as fresh as local (the 100 foot diet?) as you can get. I came across it here, searching for beet green inspiration, but it seemed naked without the goat cheese. I’m not sure I could eat a roasted beet salad without.
W was not impressed. I recalled myself at his age and older, so bummed out that my mom made fish for dinner. And stewed tomatoes. Why would any grownup do such a thing, when they have full control over the decision-making-process every mealtime?
Roasted Beet Salad with Oranges, Beet Greens and Goat Cheese
adapted from epicurious.com
6 medium beets, greens attached
1 small sweet onion, thinly sliced
2 large oranges, peeled and halved, then sliced
1/3 cup red wine or balsamic vinegar
1/4 cup canola or extra-virgin olive oil
2 garlic cloves, crushed
1 tsp. brown sugar or honey
1 tsp. grainy mustard
1/2 cup(ish) crumbled soft goat cheese
freshly ground pepper
Preheat oven to 400°F. Trim greens from beets. Cut off and discard stems. Coarsely chop leaves and reserve. Wrap each beet in foil. Place beets directly on oven rack and roast until tender when pierced with fork, about 1 hour. Cool and peel beets, then slice or cut each into wedges.
Cook beet greens in a pot of boiling water just until tender, about 2 minutes. Drain well and squeeze to remove excess moisture. Put them into a bowl with the beets, onions and orange slices. Whisk vinegar, oil, garlic, sugar, mustard and orange zest; add to beet mixture with goat cheese and toss to coat. Season with pepper, and let stand at room temperature 1 hour before serving.
One Year Ago: Spaghetti with Braised Kale
November 02 2010 | salads and veg | 11 Comments »
