Lazy Sauce

No, friends, still no pictures. My mediocre writing will have to suffice. Someday soon I'll get myself a camera and do this blog right.

Yesterday I got a basket full of end-of-season tomatoes at the farmers market. It was probably 10 quarts or something. The farmer called them "paste" tomatoes, which I had never heard of, but she said they're no different from "sauce" tomatoes. In other words, they make good sauces and pastes.

I took them home, and, feeling moderately ambitious, decided to make sauce but not can it. This meant I could fool around with the recipe all I wanted; I just needed enough room in my freezer for the sauce.


I diced a couple of medium-sized white onions and started to saute them in a stock pot in some butter. I added a couple of diced bell peppers too, since we have approximately 250 in the fridge.

While the onions and peppers were doing their thing, I washed and cored the tomatoes in batches, and pureed them in the food processor, skins and all. Remember, this is lazy sauce. I added the pureed tomatoes once the onions had cooked long enough to be translucent. I could have deglazed the pan with some red wine or something first, but again, this is lazy sauce.

After adding the tomatoes, I threw in a few cloves of pressed garlic. I probably should have sauteed it with the onions and peppers, but I forgot. I also added a scoop of basil and scallion paste that Housemate's amazing sister made for us. You could just use some dried basil and probably oregano. I also added salt and pepper.

Then I let it cook down for about 3 hours, adjusting the seasonings every now and then. When it finished cooking, I ladled it into freezer-safe Mason jars, let them cool, and stuck them in my freezer. To defrost, I will stick a jar in the fridge a day ahead of when I need it, or put the whole jar in a pot of water on the stove (removing the lid first, of course!).

The Sacramental Table

"We can not live harmlessly or strictly at our own expense; we depend upon other creatures and survive by their deaths. To live, we must daily break the body and shed the blood of creation. The point is, when we do this knowingly, lovingly, skillfully, reverently, it is a sacrament; when we do it ignorantly, greedily, clumsily, destructively, it is a desecration...in such desecration, we condemn ourselves to spiritual and moral loneliness, and others to want." --Wendell Berry

Maybe I'll write more about this when I'm being less lazy...

Honey Dill Carrots

Here's a recipe for carrots with a honey dill glaze mentioned as a side for lemon herb chicken.

Peel and slice some carrots (on the bias, if you want to be all fancy.) Steam them in a pan with an inch or so of water, or roast them in the oven at 400 for half an hour-ish, then put them in a pan on the stovetop.

Add a few tablespoons of butter, the same amount of honey, fresh or dried dill, salt, and pepper, and cook on low for 5-10 minutes. Sprinkle with slivered almonds if you really want to get crazy.

Lemon Herb Roasted Chicken

I've been on vacation, ya'll! Sorry for not posting, but I've been having too much fun traveling all around New York state (and a little bit of Vermont) for the past few weeks. Two awesome teammates and I made this roasted chicken for dinner during my giant (20+ person) family vacation on Keuka Lake.

The chickens came from the Pennsylvania Yankee Mercantile general store in Penn Yan, New York. No, nowhere near Pennsylvania--see the comments for an explanation. The store only sells items produced within 100 miles of Penn Yan. Their mission is to keep people in the community aware and in touch with their food chain. If you're ever in Penn Yan, please check them out!

Here's how we made the chicken:

2 small whole chickens (you could, of course, use just one)
butter
thyme, marjoram, tarragon
salt and pepper
garlic
2 lemons
white wine

Preheat the oven to 350 or 375. Wash chickens and place in roasting pan. Smear the chickens with butter or drizzle with olive oil if you prefer. Sprinkle generously with salt, pepper, and herbs.



Roll one lemon on the counter to get the juices flowing, then cut it in half and squeeze over top of the chickens. Stuff half of the lemon in each chicken, along with a clove or two of garlic.


Pour some white wine in the bottom of the roasting pan (enough to cover the bottom of the pan). We used a white table wine from the Salmon Run label of Dr. Frank's Vinifera Wine Cellars, a local Finger Lakes winery.

"Get the label in the shot, maybe they'll send me a free bottle," I shamelessly said to my cook teammate/photographer friend.


Roast for about two hours total, or until a meat thermometer reads 175 degrees in the thickest part of the chicken breast. Baste with liquid from the pan every 20 minutes or so, and add more wine if needed. Squeeze the second lemon over the chickens after about 45 minutes (once they've browned) and tent with aluminum foil to keep them moist.

We served these bad boys (girls, actually) with steamed carrots in a honey dill glaze, pasta Alfredo, green salad, and a watermelon and goat cheese salad.

By the way, this is the first post I've ever done on chicken. If you're someone who is intimidated by cooking a whole chicken, but knows that whole chickens are much much cheaper per pound than chicken parts, this looks pretty simple, right? You can follow the same steps, but change out the flavor components (lemon juice, herbs, wine) for different ones.

Remember to save the carcass (in the fridge for a few days or freezer for pretty much ever) to make stock with! Just plop it in a stock pot (or crock pot), add some quartered onions, carrots, celery, salt, pepper, and a bay leaf, fill the rest of the way with water, and simmer on low all day. Skim the fat off, strain out the solids, and freeze in ice cube trays for later.


(Awesome photography by Sarah Amico)

Vacation Breakfast

I stayed at my parents' house this past week, and on Saturday my mom and I made a delicious breakfast of poached eggs over hash browns. My mom is a Master Poacher of Eggs, which is interesting, because she doesn't really cook much of anything else, and even some really talented home cooks avoid poaching eggs because it's supposedly so difficult. She's an egg savant.

Hash Browns

1 medium potato per person
1 medium white onion per 3-4 potatoes, diced
couple cloves of garlic
chili powder
salt
pepper
maple syrup

Halve and par boil the potatoes for about 10 minutes. Run cold water over them to cool them off, then grate them.

Melt a generous amount of butter over medium heat in a pan. (Put a wide, shallow sauce pan of water on the stove to boil at this step). Add everything but maple syrup to the melted butter. Cook, tossing it every few minutes until the potatoes are sufficiently browned, then drizzle a little maple syrup over top and cook for an additional 5 minutes or so.

Just before the maple syrup step, when your water is boiling, begin poaching your eggs. Crack them directly into the water, VERY gently. I poach them for exactly as long as the toaster takes to make toast on medium, because that's what my mom does. Even when I'm not actually making toast, I use the toaster to time the eggs. Because I've never bothered to just time how long the toaster takes and remember it. It's probably about 4 minutes--so the yolks are still drippy, but the whites are cooked. I don't know, just use your toaster.

Put the hash browns on a plate, and when the eggs are done, gently scoop them out of the water with a slotted spoon and place them over top of the hash browns.

Canning Basics

If you read the title of this post and started to run away in fear, stop. Come back. Relax. Canning is not hard, not dangerous (if you follow the rules), and not complicated. We're talking about simple hot water bath canning today, and anyone can do it. You don't need special equipment that only the Super Secret Canning Society of Old Ladies gives out. You don't need a chemistry degree. You CAN do this!

So, why should you can? Um, like a million reasons. It allows you the opportunity to eat local fruits and vegetables throughout the year. It gives you something to do with the mountains of tomatoes/berries/apples/whatever that ripen at the same time. A basket of homemade jams makes a great Christmas gift. It's a great way to spend an afternoon with your best friend, Natalie. (If you don't have a best friend, Natalie, think about getting one; they're awesome). Also, you'll be ready in the event of a zombie apocalypse wherein all grocery stores are destroyed.


Convinced? Okay, let's start canning!

Step 1.
Gather the following equipment:

canning jars and lids - New jars come with lids. If you're reusing jars, you will need new lids.
large stock pot - large enough to submerge your jars
tongs - Canning tongs are nice, but regular kitchen tongs will work if you've got a steady hand.
clean dishtowels - a whole mess of 'em

The following are not totally necessary but are really nice.
canning funnel
dishwasher
wire rack for the bottom of the stock pot

Step 2.
Choose a tested canning recipe for hot water canning. This is not the time for making up recipes. You can only can very acidic foods without a pressure canner, so you need to follow the recipe precisely to ensure the right pH. I'll post some recipes here later this week, but the Ball Complete Book of Home Preserving is a great resource as well.

Step 3.
Fill your stock pot with water with a towel or wire rack at the bottom, and put it on the stove to boil. If you have a dishwasher, load the jars and rings in start it. Do NOT put the lids in. Begin preparing your canning recipe in a separate pot.

Step 4.
When the water in your stock pot is boiling, drop the lids in for 1 minute, then remove with tongs and place on a clean towel. If you don't have a dishwasher, submerge your jars in the boiling water for 2-3 minutes, then remove and place on a clean towel. You want to do this (or remove jars from the dishwasher, if you're using one) immediately before the recipe is done. The idea is to fill hot jars with hot food.

Step 5.
Fill the jars with whatever you've made, leaving however much space the recipe calls for at the top. Slide a knife down the inside of the jars, to get rid of any air bubbles. Wipe the tops with a damp towel and put the lids and rings on.

Step 6
Submerge the jars in the boiling water in your stock pot, cover, and boil for the time indicated in the recipe (probably 10-15 minutes).

Step 7.
Remove the jars carefully with tongs, set on a clean towel, and leave undisturbed for 24 hours. You will hear some popping noises as they seal! Check the seals by pushing on the lids the next day. The center should not be popped up on any of them. If any jars failed to seal, you can stick them in the fridge and eat them within a few weeks. As for the rest, store in your pantry and enjoy for up to a year (as per USDA standards)!

Things You Should Never Buy: Microwave Popcorn

This post begins an ongoing series called "Things You Should Never Buy (Because They're So Damn Easy to Make)."



I stopped buying microwaveable popcorn long ago for a number of reasons. It makes nearly every food caution list because of the carcinogens in the packaging. The butter-like substance of unknown origin covering the kernels gives me pause. The price increase from bulk popping kernels to bagged popping corn is absurd. And the bagged popping corn creates unnecessary packaging waste that bulk kernels do not.

So I have been making popcorn with loose kernels on the stovetop. It's pretty easy, but I've thought here and there about getting an air popper. I haven't yet because I try to avoid single task kitchen tools (think: melon ballers, panini makers, egg poaching doodads). I'm so glad I didn't buy one, because my housemate tipped me off to an amazingly obvious concept I had never considered: Microwave Popcorn.

We put a handful of loose kernels in a brown paper bag, folded the top over a couple times, and laid it in the microwave. We cooked it on the "popcorn" setting--probably 4 minutes or so. That's all. Seriously. And it worked! I was ecstatic (I really like popcorn). It suddenly seemed so ingenious--microwave popcorn! Why hadn't I thought of this before?

I gleefully remarked, "I bet this is how the first Native Americans to make popcorn felt!"

My housemate looked sideways at me and replied, "I think you're a little overexcited."