For all of you wondering what the quote above was, it's not my words. It's the words of Billie Joe of Green Day when I saw them about six weeks ago (long story). But in all honesty, it could have been me saying that as I held up my fist high to what I perceive as my theme song to 2009, "21 Guns."
I won't deny for a second that this year was a difficult one, and I look forward to 2010 with all the joy and happiness it will bring. But above all, I look forward to tonight, for I love New Year's Eve. I have had some wonderful ones, ranging all across Southern California (and one in NorCal), from the San Fernando Valley to Riverside, the depths of the OC and home sweet home in Lakewood.
I have wonderful memories of New Year's, whether it's watching "Finding Nemo" at 2 a.m. in Riverside to snuggling up to Ari on a futon in cold Sacramento weather. I had a blast in Coto de Casa last year, and was able to host friends the first New Year's Ari and I were married.
But I have a very distinct and special memory about one New Year's. It was 2004/2005, and I had a few friends over at my college apartment in Fullerton -- Lauren, Keila and Avi, Lauren's now-husband. They were Shabbat observant, so there was no television to speak of. Avi was already asleep by 11:30 p.m.
But by midnight, Lauren, Keila and I were gathered around my old alarm clock (possibly the world's noisiest alarm clock, might I add), counting down the seconds to midnight quietly so as not to wake Avi. We then drank (I think), and spoke of what we wanted for the upcoming year for ourselves.
It may not have been the hubbub of large parties, but there was something there that was so special about this moment in my life. 2004, as many people know, was a strange year of crossroads, with blood clots, weight loss (and gain back), and readjusting to life in college and trying to wrap that up so I could get my life started. I had so many hopes for the year to come -- and luckily, got all I could have ever wanted in 2005.
It reminds me of something Inbar said about a week and a half ago, reflecting on Rosh Hashanah (the Jewish New Year) versus the New Year in America. One is about reflection, the other "getting wasted." I love reflection, but I also love a good party -- just ask anyone who knows me. Personally, there can be a great balance between celebration and reflection, and you don't even have to get wasted if you don't want to.
So, as I go today and make all the food for tonight's New Year's Eve tiny extravaganza, I hope that we are able to reflect on this year and that all our hopes come true. I hope your 2010 is filled with light, love and happiness. As for a recipe, I will leave one of the greats: stuffed mushrooms. Enjoy!
STUFFED MUSHROOMS
12 large-capped mushrooms (see Quick Tip 1)
3 tablespoons margarine or butter
1 medium onion
3 garlic cloves
4 stalks celery
1 cup seasoned bread crumbs
1/4 cup fresh parsley
Shredded parmesan cheese (optional for dairy)
Wipe mushrooms with a damp towel and remove the stems (see Quick Tip 2). Put on a baking sheet with the caps face down and bake in a 425 degree oven for 10 minutes. This should allow the water to be released from them before they’re stuffed.
Finely chop the onion, garlic, mushroom stems and celery (mom calls this "celery dust"). Heat up the margarine in a skillet and sauté the veggies until the onions are just translucent. Add the parsley, breadcrumbs and cheese stir, making sure they are able to stick together. If not, just add a little bit of olive oil. Season with salt and pepper to taste.
Turn over the caps and stuff the mushrooms with the breadcrumb mixture. Return to the oven and bake for 10 minutes. Serve hot.
Quick Tip 1: The recipe calls for white mushrooms, but I have found that it also works well on baby portabella – or cremini – mushrooms. There are also special stuffing mushrooms, although they are a bit more expensive.
Quick Tip 2: Unless you like your mushrooms rubbery, never wash them directly under water.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Putting on the Fritz
I have come to the conclusion that, if you are going through bad times, everything else has to go through it with you -- and I guess, in Ari's and my case, particularly the electrical equipment.
Right before I got laid off, my beloved TV/DVD player from college broke. Actually, this means that the remote broke, as you cannot operate said TV without it. Then the clot. The job loss came two weeks after that.
Our apartment must have been informed that everything should break while Ari and I were around to take care of it -- like this August, when the air conditioner and half the circuits decided to take a holiday on one of the hottest days of the summer. Soon after, so did all the other circuits. This morning, the microwave was down, as was the power in the wall separating the meat side of the kitchen to the bedroom -- so no movies on the new TV we pooled our Chanukah money to get for the bedroom.
But let us not forget those things that also decided to break, such as the garbage disposal, the tires on my car, the hot water faucet knob in our shower and the lock on our door, which also decided to break Ari's key in half. Except for the tires, let's just say that landlord David has been in our apartment a lot as of late, complaining of how Ari likes everything dark, so we "live in a cave." I guess if you're going to be in our lives and break, I guess now would be the time to do it -- except for the computer. You are relatively new, and if you break, you're going DOWN, son!
Although I may be jinxing myself now, it seems like the only things that haven't had a breakdown of any sort are, ironically, the stove and the fridge. How did they luck out in all this drama? Why were the ones who got a pass on the fritz that seems to be travelling faster than the swine flu through all the electrical elements of our lives?
I'd like to think that G-d wants us to eat, so therefore he hasn't taken away our food and the way to cook it. Or, by chance, G-d decided that there is a limit to schadenfreude, and has cut us some slack.
But perhaps there is a deeper meaning to this. Maybe the fridge and the stove symbolize hope and faith. G-d is reminding us that no matter what happens, or how much power goes out, that we should always have hope and faith beside us. We should read, enjoy each other, and find a way to be happy. I have to remind myself that in five years' time, this will be a distant memory that Ari and I will laugh about or be thankful isn't happening again. You have to find humor in everything, after all.
Currently, thanks to our wonderful landlord, everything is working. But for how long? I can almost hear our circuit breakers plotting for their latest diversion. G-d, I think I may need to get out a bit more. This can't be a good sign if I can hear our circuit breaking saying words.
Either way, in times like these, I often turn to my comfort foods that are simple to make. Turkey Joes happen to be one of my favorites.
TURKEY JOES
2 pounds ground turkey
1 large onion
4 cloves garlic
Dash salt and pepper
4 tablespoons olive oil
¼ cup flour
1/2 cup barbecue sauce
2 teaspoons mustard
2 teaspoons honey
4 tablespoons rice vinegar
hamburger buns
Chop the onion and mince the garlic. Meanwhile, season the turkey with the salt and pepper.
Heat two tablespoons of the olive oil in the pan. Add the garlic and allow it to cook slightly in the olive oil. Add the onion and allow them to become translucent. Remove to a small bowl and add the other two tablespoons of olive oil.
Add the ground turkey and stir in the pan until all the pink of the meat is gone. Add the onions and garlic back, as well as the flour. Stir until all the flour absorbs the juices from the meat. This is going to be the base of your sauce.
Add the barbecue sauce, honey, mustard and rice vinegar. Stir until every piece is completely coated. Serve on hamburger buns. Get yourself a napkin, because it will be messy!
Right before I got laid off, my beloved TV/DVD player from college broke. Actually, this means that the remote broke, as you cannot operate said TV without it. Then the clot. The job loss came two weeks after that.
Our apartment must have been informed that everything should break while Ari and I were around to take care of it -- like this August, when the air conditioner and half the circuits decided to take a holiday on one of the hottest days of the summer. Soon after, so did all the other circuits. This morning, the microwave was down, as was the power in the wall separating the meat side of the kitchen to the bedroom -- so no movies on the new TV we pooled our Chanukah money to get for the bedroom.
But let us not forget those things that also decided to break, such as the garbage disposal, the tires on my car, the hot water faucet knob in our shower and the lock on our door, which also decided to break Ari's key in half. Except for the tires, let's just say that landlord David has been in our apartment a lot as of late, complaining of how Ari likes everything dark, so we "live in a cave." I guess if you're going to be in our lives and break, I guess now would be the time to do it -- except for the computer. You are relatively new, and if you break, you're going DOWN, son!
Although I may be jinxing myself now, it seems like the only things that haven't had a breakdown of any sort are, ironically, the stove and the fridge. How did they luck out in all this drama? Why were the ones who got a pass on the fritz that seems to be travelling faster than the swine flu through all the electrical elements of our lives?
I'd like to think that G-d wants us to eat, so therefore he hasn't taken away our food and the way to cook it. Or, by chance, G-d decided that there is a limit to schadenfreude, and has cut us some slack.
But perhaps there is a deeper meaning to this. Maybe the fridge and the stove symbolize hope and faith. G-d is reminding us that no matter what happens, or how much power goes out, that we should always have hope and faith beside us. We should read, enjoy each other, and find a way to be happy. I have to remind myself that in five years' time, this will be a distant memory that Ari and I will laugh about or be thankful isn't happening again. You have to find humor in everything, after all.
Currently, thanks to our wonderful landlord, everything is working. But for how long? I can almost hear our circuit breakers plotting for their latest diversion. G-d, I think I may need to get out a bit more. This can't be a good sign if I can hear our circuit breaking saying words.
Either way, in times like these, I often turn to my comfort foods that are simple to make. Turkey Joes happen to be one of my favorites.
TURKEY JOES
2 pounds ground turkey
1 large onion
4 cloves garlic
Dash salt and pepper
4 tablespoons olive oil
¼ cup flour
1/2 cup barbecue sauce
2 teaspoons mustard
2 teaspoons honey
4 tablespoons rice vinegar
hamburger buns
Chop the onion and mince the garlic. Meanwhile, season the turkey with the salt and pepper.
Heat two tablespoons of the olive oil in the pan. Add the garlic and allow it to cook slightly in the olive oil. Add the onion and allow them to become translucent. Remove to a small bowl and add the other two tablespoons of olive oil.
Add the ground turkey and stir in the pan until all the pink of the meat is gone. Add the onions and garlic back, as well as the flour. Stir until all the flour absorbs the juices from the meat. This is going to be the base of your sauce.
Add the barbecue sauce, honey, mustard and rice vinegar. Stir until every piece is completely coated. Serve on hamburger buns. Get yourself a napkin, because it will be messy!
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
The Artisan at Work
I have recently come to fall in love with a fabulous site, mykosherla.com. It's a really great place with lists of kosher restaurants, grocery stores, caterers and more all around Los Angeles -- with coupons starting next week! It is a young, broke and kosher girl's ultimate hook up.
But the most interesting thing was that there was a poll of five different kosher "fast-food" joints on the website. I voted for my favorite, and it won by 62 percent. My favorite, of course, is Jeff's Gourmet Sausage Factory. There are plenty of local favorites in Los Angeles, but it seems like that among the YBK set, Jeff's resonates with its delicious burgers, sausages and French fries.
But the main reason I love Jeff's is that I think there is something very special about this place. There is a reason why, for our Jewish community bonfires in Huntington Beach, that I hauled myself up to LA and purchased $50 worth of sausages from them. It's the fact that they make their sausages fresh, and from scratch. Along with being a good place to eat, they are also craftsmen.
If there's one thing that I appreciate in the cooking world, it's people who put their hearts and souls into what they make. We may look up to the chefs of the world for bringing us good food, but we really should be looking to the people who make them look so good: the pasta makers, the bread bakers, even the people who pickle the olives. They have a special craft that no one can touch.
I didn't realize, until I took a good look at their website, that they also do more than just sausages. I didn't realize they also make all their own deli meats from scratch. This may not sound like much, but it is a long process. Making corned beef can take days, as the process for making the delicious pastrami that goes on top of their pastrami burgers can also be as long.
People probably don't go to Jeff's because of the work they put into their meats. They go because it's delicious and it won't make them bankrupt, as eating out at a kosher restaurant can be a difficult task to do if you don't have a lot of cash in your pocket. There are a lot of nice kosher restaurants out there in the world with delicious food -- and don't get me wrong, I love them too, and they have their own people who craft tasty treats -- but they do cost a pretty penny if you want to go. But not everyone puts the love that Jeff's puts into their food.
In the meantime, I tip my hat to Jeff's for being a beacon to the kosher world. If you know of any other special restaurants that you want to feature, make sure to put them in our comments section. In the meantime, here is my favorite recipe with sausages, courtesy of the sausage factory's deliciousness.
SAUSAGE WITH PEPPERS AND ONIONS PASTA
8 Turkey Italian sausages
2 tablespoons olive oil, divided use
1 red pepper
1 onion
1 green pepper (optional)
3 cloves garlic
1 box linguine or your favorite pasta
Make pasta according to package directions, making sure to season the water before putting in the linguine. Meanwhile, heat one tablespoon of olive oil in a skillet. Cut the sausages into 1/4-inch pieces on the diagonal. Put them in to cook until they are golden brown. Remove.
Heat the remaining olive oil. Chop the peppers and onion into 1-inch pieces, and mince garlic. Put in skillet and saute for two minutes. Add cooked sausage and mix together. Serve on top of hot pasta and serve.
But the most interesting thing was that there was a poll of five different kosher "fast-food" joints on the website. I voted for my favorite, and it won by 62 percent. My favorite, of course, is Jeff's Gourmet Sausage Factory. There are plenty of local favorites in Los Angeles, but it seems like that among the YBK set, Jeff's resonates with its delicious burgers, sausages and French fries.
But the main reason I love Jeff's is that I think there is something very special about this place. There is a reason why, for our Jewish community bonfires in Huntington Beach, that I hauled myself up to LA and purchased $50 worth of sausages from them. It's the fact that they make their sausages fresh, and from scratch. Along with being a good place to eat, they are also craftsmen.
If there's one thing that I appreciate in the cooking world, it's people who put their hearts and souls into what they make. We may look up to the chefs of the world for bringing us good food, but we really should be looking to the people who make them look so good: the pasta makers, the bread bakers, even the people who pickle the olives. They have a special craft that no one can touch.
I didn't realize, until I took a good look at their website, that they also do more than just sausages. I didn't realize they also make all their own deli meats from scratch. This may not sound like much, but it is a long process. Making corned beef can take days, as the process for making the delicious pastrami that goes on top of their pastrami burgers can also be as long.
People probably don't go to Jeff's because of the work they put into their meats. They go because it's delicious and it won't make them bankrupt, as eating out at a kosher restaurant can be a difficult task to do if you don't have a lot of cash in your pocket. There are a lot of nice kosher restaurants out there in the world with delicious food -- and don't get me wrong, I love them too, and they have their own people who craft tasty treats -- but they do cost a pretty penny if you want to go. But not everyone puts the love that Jeff's puts into their food.
In the meantime, I tip my hat to Jeff's for being a beacon to the kosher world. If you know of any other special restaurants that you want to feature, make sure to put them in our comments section. In the meantime, here is my favorite recipe with sausages, courtesy of the sausage factory's deliciousness.
SAUSAGE WITH PEPPERS AND ONIONS PASTA
8 Turkey Italian sausages
2 tablespoons olive oil, divided use
1 red pepper
1 onion
1 green pepper (optional)
3 cloves garlic
1 box linguine or your favorite pasta
Make pasta according to package directions, making sure to season the water before putting in the linguine. Meanwhile, heat one tablespoon of olive oil in a skillet. Cut the sausages into 1/4-inch pieces on the diagonal. Put them in to cook until they are golden brown. Remove.
Heat the remaining olive oil. Chop the peppers and onion into 1-inch pieces, and mince garlic. Put in skillet and saute for two minutes. Add cooked sausage and mix together. Serve on top of hot pasta and serve.
Monday, December 28, 2009
Embracing the Journey
This morning, I had breakfast with a very special lady named Karen. Smart, sweet and loving, this woman is my cousin by mariage. Her husband, Paul, is my father's first cousin, and they are parents to Lindzey and Griffin. These people are some of my favorite relatives, and I love them dearly.
It had been a while since we had seen each other, but Karen was the same as she always had been: with a bright face, beaming brown eyes and a warm smile inviting you in. She speaks in a voice where everything makes sense in a world where everything seems topsy-turvy. I also know Karen was very concerned for me. It's been a very difficult time as of late, what with everything that happened in 2009. It also doesn't help that when it comes to me, I don't hide my feelings in Facebook status updates, and she sees them.
We met in Fountain Valley, where we enjoyed a delicious breakfast. We did all the traditional catching up -- how Lindzey graduated from college, Griffin's Eagle Scout award, what's going on with Ari, me, my parents and my sister. At one point, I showed her my Medic Alert bracelet, which tells of the blood disorder that causes my clots and that I take Coumadin.
As the conversation continued, she said. "Well, you showed me your bracelet, I might as well show you mine." I thought she wore a Medic Alert bracelet too, but instead it was a very simple bracelet with a pendant. It said, "Embrace the journey."
"I keep forgetting that life is a journey," she said with that trademark grin of hers. "It took me all these years to realize that." She then spoke of how the journey is filled with its ups and its downs, and how the road may be beautifully smooth, but at some times you have to clunk along. But either way, you are going to get there.
Karen is a woman who loves words -- in fact, I have a little plaque from her that says, "Live well, laugh often, love much," right near the front door of our house, and I love it. But something about what she showed me today -- "Embrace the journey" -- that seemed to stick to me. I thought about it all the way home and even later today, when Ari's key broke in the lock, and we had to push him through our window, essentially breaking into our own apartment. It also struck me again as I received a call from my friend Jenna, telling me that she and her guy, Sean, are engaged. They are starting their own path together, and I am so happy to share in their joy.
I sometimes forget that our lives are one big journey -- from the big events to those little moments. We are travelling along this road known as life, to arrive to a destination we may not know yet, hoping those that we love will be waiting for us there. You take a lot of people with you along the way, whether it's your friends or family, but at the end we all have our separate journeys that we have to take. We win, we lose, we find pleasure and pain, and take whatever comes our way. But all of this time, we learn to marvel at this insane world along the way.
I find a similar thing in my kitchen. I have found cooking to be an adventure, plotting destinations and figuring out ways to get there. Every recipe is a journey, every new idea an exciting road stop. A lot of people view food as a way to a goal, such as losing weight or simply for sustenance, but we do need to enjoy it, the same way we enjoy life. There are flavors to be discovered, taste buds to tickled, and joy to be had. Maybe I'm secretly a French chef, but who knows?
But above all, when it comes to food, we should enjoy it with good company -- not unlike a person such as Karen, Ari, Jenna or Sean. We should have it with love in our hearts. And we should allow it to give us a pause on this journey, which at times can be nuts, but where we have each other. And that's what counts.
In honor of my beautiful Jenna's engagement and the beginning of her journey with Sean, I have decided to put in two of her favorite recipes into my blog -- ironically, they are two dishes that I have brought to her house recently. Enjoy!
PUMPKIN CHOCOLATE CHIP CAKE
2 cups sugar
4 eggs
3 cups flour
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
2 teaspoons baking powder
2 teaspoons baking soda
7/8 cup oil
1 small can of pumpkin (not pumpkin pie mix)
1 bag chocolate chips
Mix the sugar and eggs until creamy. The color should be yellow and it should mix smoothly. Add the can of pumpkin and continue mixing.
In a separate bowl, mix the flour, cinnamon, baking powder and baking soda together. Pour a little in the pumpkin mixture and stir, following it with adding some of the oil. Continue doing this until all the ingredients are combined. Add the chocolate chips last.
Spray a bundt cake pan with a non-stick cooking spray (see quick tip). Pour the mixture into the cake pan and bake at 350 degrees for 40 minutes. Put a plate over the bundt pan and turn over, making sure that it has come out evenly. Serve.
Quick Tip 1: The recipe is supposed to be for one standard bundt cake and one loaf. However, I’ve found if your bundt cake pan is big enough, it’s enough for just one cake.
Quick Tip 2: The best part of this recipe is it can be made pareve and/or gluten-free. For gluten-free, substitute your favorite rice-based flour. For pareve, make sure your chocolate chips have no dairy in them.
GREEK ORZO
1 pound orzo pasta
1 large onion
2 tbsp. olive oil
3 cloves garlic
1 red pepper
1 can olives, drained
1 small bag fresh spinach
2-3 zucchini
1 cup parmesan eggplant or grilled eggplant (recipe for parmesan eggplan to come soon)
3/4 block of feta cheese, preferably sheep's milk feta, chopped into small cubes
1 teaspoon nutmeg
Boil water for the orzo.
Dice onion and mince garlic. Meanwhile, heat the olive oil in a large skillet. Once heated, add the onion and garlic, season with salt and pepper (see quick tip 1). Dice the red pepper into bigger pieces and add to the pot, along with the olives. Slice the zucchini and add to the pan. Season with salt and pepper.
Season the water for the orzo with salt and add pasta. Follow package directions (see quick tip 2).
Add the spinach from the bag in batches to the other vegetables. Allow the previous batch to wilt before adding more. Once completed, add the eggplant.
Drain the orzo, leaving a little bit of the pasta water behind. Add the sauteed vegetables to the orzo, along with the feta cheese. Stir until the cheese melts. Add nutmeg. Serve hot.
QUICK TIP 1: With a simple recipe such as this, it's important to season all the layers that are going into the dish. It's a proper cooking technique that is the simplest way to do your best.
QUICK TIP 2: Orzo is a pasta that looks like a rice. Make sure that when you drain it, your colander has smaller holes. For me, I use the end of my pasta pot that isn't meant to drain, and drain the pasta slowly.
It had been a while since we had seen each other, but Karen was the same as she always had been: with a bright face, beaming brown eyes and a warm smile inviting you in. She speaks in a voice where everything makes sense in a world where everything seems topsy-turvy. I also know Karen was very concerned for me. It's been a very difficult time as of late, what with everything that happened in 2009. It also doesn't help that when it comes to me, I don't hide my feelings in Facebook status updates, and she sees them.
We met in Fountain Valley, where we enjoyed a delicious breakfast. We did all the traditional catching up -- how Lindzey graduated from college, Griffin's Eagle Scout award, what's going on with Ari, me, my parents and my sister. At one point, I showed her my Medic Alert bracelet, which tells of the blood disorder that causes my clots and that I take Coumadin.
As the conversation continued, she said. "Well, you showed me your bracelet, I might as well show you mine." I thought she wore a Medic Alert bracelet too, but instead it was a very simple bracelet with a pendant. It said, "Embrace the journey."
"I keep forgetting that life is a journey," she said with that trademark grin of hers. "It took me all these years to realize that." She then spoke of how the journey is filled with its ups and its downs, and how the road may be beautifully smooth, but at some times you have to clunk along. But either way, you are going to get there.
Karen is a woman who loves words -- in fact, I have a little plaque from her that says, "Live well, laugh often, love much," right near the front door of our house, and I love it. But something about what she showed me today -- "Embrace the journey" -- that seemed to stick to me. I thought about it all the way home and even later today, when Ari's key broke in the lock, and we had to push him through our window, essentially breaking into our own apartment. It also struck me again as I received a call from my friend Jenna, telling me that she and her guy, Sean, are engaged. They are starting their own path together, and I am so happy to share in their joy.
I sometimes forget that our lives are one big journey -- from the big events to those little moments. We are travelling along this road known as life, to arrive to a destination we may not know yet, hoping those that we love will be waiting for us there. You take a lot of people with you along the way, whether it's your friends or family, but at the end we all have our separate journeys that we have to take. We win, we lose, we find pleasure and pain, and take whatever comes our way. But all of this time, we learn to marvel at this insane world along the way.
I find a similar thing in my kitchen. I have found cooking to be an adventure, plotting destinations and figuring out ways to get there. Every recipe is a journey, every new idea an exciting road stop. A lot of people view food as a way to a goal, such as losing weight or simply for sustenance, but we do need to enjoy it, the same way we enjoy life. There are flavors to be discovered, taste buds to tickled, and joy to be had. Maybe I'm secretly a French chef, but who knows?
But above all, when it comes to food, we should enjoy it with good company -- not unlike a person such as Karen, Ari, Jenna or Sean. We should have it with love in our hearts. And we should allow it to give us a pause on this journey, which at times can be nuts, but where we have each other. And that's what counts.
In honor of my beautiful Jenna's engagement and the beginning of her journey with Sean, I have decided to put in two of her favorite recipes into my blog -- ironically, they are two dishes that I have brought to her house recently. Enjoy!
PUMPKIN CHOCOLATE CHIP CAKE
2 cups sugar
4 eggs
3 cups flour
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
2 teaspoons baking powder
2 teaspoons baking soda
7/8 cup oil
1 small can of pumpkin (not pumpkin pie mix)
1 bag chocolate chips
Mix the sugar and eggs until creamy. The color should be yellow and it should mix smoothly. Add the can of pumpkin and continue mixing.
In a separate bowl, mix the flour, cinnamon, baking powder and baking soda together. Pour a little in the pumpkin mixture and stir, following it with adding some of the oil. Continue doing this until all the ingredients are combined. Add the chocolate chips last.
Spray a bundt cake pan with a non-stick cooking spray (see quick tip). Pour the mixture into the cake pan and bake at 350 degrees for 40 minutes. Put a plate over the bundt pan and turn over, making sure that it has come out evenly. Serve.
Quick Tip 1: The recipe is supposed to be for one standard bundt cake and one loaf. However, I’ve found if your bundt cake pan is big enough, it’s enough for just one cake.
Quick Tip 2: The best part of this recipe is it can be made pareve and/or gluten-free. For gluten-free, substitute your favorite rice-based flour. For pareve, make sure your chocolate chips have no dairy in them.
GREEK ORZO
1 pound orzo pasta
1 large onion
2 tbsp. olive oil
3 cloves garlic
1 red pepper
1 can olives, drained
1 small bag fresh spinach
2-3 zucchini
1 cup parmesan eggplant or grilled eggplant (recipe for parmesan eggplan to come soon)
3/4 block of feta cheese, preferably sheep's milk feta, chopped into small cubes
1 teaspoon nutmeg
Boil water for the orzo.
Dice onion and mince garlic. Meanwhile, heat the olive oil in a large skillet. Once heated, add the onion and garlic, season with salt and pepper (see quick tip 1). Dice the red pepper into bigger pieces and add to the pot, along with the olives. Slice the zucchini and add to the pan. Season with salt and pepper.
Season the water for the orzo with salt and add pasta. Follow package directions (see quick tip 2).
Add the spinach from the bag in batches to the other vegetables. Allow the previous batch to wilt before adding more. Once completed, add the eggplant.
Drain the orzo, leaving a little bit of the pasta water behind. Add the sauteed vegetables to the orzo, along with the feta cheese. Stir until the cheese melts. Add nutmeg. Serve hot.
QUICK TIP 1: With a simple recipe such as this, it's important to season all the layers that are going into the dish. It's a proper cooking technique that is the simplest way to do your best.
QUICK TIP 2: Orzo is a pasta that looks like a rice. Make sure that when you drain it, your colander has smaller holes. For me, I use the end of my pasta pot that isn't meant to drain, and drain the pasta slowly.
Friday, December 25, 2009
A Table for Hope -- and a Resolution
Before I get started, I want to wish all my non-Jewish readers a very happy Christmas filled with yummy food and lots of hope. But it brings me to something very important that I discovered the other night.
On Wednesday night, Ari and I had the pleasure of joining a bunch of friends for dinner at Inbar's house. Inbar is the leader of our young professionals group in Long Beach, Gesher City, an amazing singer and a good friend.
We sat at her table and enjoyed delicious homemade goodies -- from babaganoush from scratch to a scrumptious chicken dish. Together, we shared lots of laughter and conversation, some in English, other parts in Hebrew. We discussed our most recent event, Rock the Dreidel, and the success we had.
Suddenly, as we were munching, Inbar quieted everyone down and said, "I have been meaning to ask this: What's your New Year's resolution?"
Some of us had resolutions, others didn't. My friend Rae says she always makes resolutions and accomplishes them -- but if you know how amazing and organized she is, you can understand that this is not out of character for her. For me, I rarely make resolutions, because I don't really accomplish them.
When it came to my turn, I had two resolutions: to write more (something I have needed to do for a long time) and to get an exercise regimen that doesn't interfere with my Coumadin. But then, as we continued around to table, getting to my friend Josh, who spoke of trying to keep his commitments to his friends, I realized that there was a more important resolution that I should be keeping. More than my writing, more than any exercise regimen that I should launch.
We should be having more dinners like this -- sitting, facing each other, with Rae breaking out into her wide grin, Inbar making jokes and Josh going off on his interesting philosophies. We should break bread together.
I think I forget about that too often. With not having enough money, Ari and I have not been able to host dinners at our apartment as much I would like. To afford kosher meat for the two of us is enough of a problem. If you add a whole bunch of people to the equation, you've got issues. As much as I love making dairy dishes, I prefer eating meat if I'm making a Shabbat dinner. Plus, the poor Postage Stamp doesn't have enough room as it is -- keeping kosher there is a nightmare enough just for us alone.
About a week earlier, I had hosted a Chanukah dinner, and it was amazing to me, because I was reminded that we love getting together even for the simplest of meals. I didn't make anything special -- butternut squash soup, salmon, salad, zucchini and potatoes gratin and a pie. It was a small crowd, as there were just six of us eating. We pulled our side table, which, when company comes, doubles as an extension to our tiny kitchen table. Together, we shared what was in the house -- remnants of a farmers' market shopping trip and stuff in the freezer.
And yet, having the company together was amazing -- laughing with Sabrina and Kim while Ari and Josh had political conversations in the corner, with Eden eating more salmon than she has ever eaten in her life (Eden doesn't like fish). We had delicious food despite the fact that Ari and I don't have a lot of money. But above all, we had good company.
As we fall apart, despite everything, we cling to those we love, and they are our life savers. I found that after I was laid off, my friends did everything they could. And I found pleasure in doing something as simple as bringing people to our place to enjoy a delicious meal while looking into each others' beautiful faces. I found this same joy at Inbar's house.
In depressing times, we need something to cling to, something to bring us together. I don't know if I'd use the word distraction, but I guess at the end of the day, it's what it is: a beautiful island of bliss in a sea of torment and heartbreak. We forget about our sorrows and come together around the table, remembering how to laugh, how to celebrate, how to enjoy despite the dreariness.
So, to all my friends, Christian, Jewish, Muslim, black, white, purple, brown, turquoise... whoever you are, come together. Sit at the table and enjoy food with those you love. Bring back good conversation, joke-telling, endless philosophies and singing. It's the way we will remember who we are: determined soldiers in a world that tries to bring us down, but at the same will never do such thing because we have each other.
BUTTERNUT SQUASH SOUP
8-9 cups diced butternut squash
1 large onion
3 tablespoons olive oil
1 container butternut squash soup mix
2 cups pareve chicken bouillon
2 tablespoons garlic powder
1/2 teaspoon ginger
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon cumin
1/2 teaspoon coriander
1 cup cream (optional)
Heat a soup pot. Dice onion, add to a bowl with butternut squash. Season with salt and pepper, coat with olive oil. Put into the pan, allow to heat through for five to ten minutes, allowing to get slightly brown on the outside. Add container of soup mix and boullion. Simmer for 20 minutes.
Using an immersion blender, puree the mixture. Add garlic powder, ginger, cinnamon, cumin and coriander. Pour in the cream and stir. Allow to simmer for another 20 minutes.
Once simmered, puree with the immersion blender once more, until the mixture is velvety smooth. If it doesn't completely smooth out, allow mixture to simmer longer and try again.
Serve hot. If not serving right away, allow soup to stay warm on the stovetop.
On Wednesday night, Ari and I had the pleasure of joining a bunch of friends for dinner at Inbar's house. Inbar is the leader of our young professionals group in Long Beach, Gesher City, an amazing singer and a good friend.
We sat at her table and enjoyed delicious homemade goodies -- from babaganoush from scratch to a scrumptious chicken dish. Together, we shared lots of laughter and conversation, some in English, other parts in Hebrew. We discussed our most recent event, Rock the Dreidel, and the success we had.
Suddenly, as we were munching, Inbar quieted everyone down and said, "I have been meaning to ask this: What's your New Year's resolution?"
Some of us had resolutions, others didn't. My friend Rae says she always makes resolutions and accomplishes them -- but if you know how amazing and organized she is, you can understand that this is not out of character for her. For me, I rarely make resolutions, because I don't really accomplish them.
When it came to my turn, I had two resolutions: to write more (something I have needed to do for a long time) and to get an exercise regimen that doesn't interfere with my Coumadin. But then, as we continued around to table, getting to my friend Josh, who spoke of trying to keep his commitments to his friends, I realized that there was a more important resolution that I should be keeping. More than my writing, more than any exercise regimen that I should launch.
We should be having more dinners like this -- sitting, facing each other, with Rae breaking out into her wide grin, Inbar making jokes and Josh going off on his interesting philosophies. We should break bread together.
I think I forget about that too often. With not having enough money, Ari and I have not been able to host dinners at our apartment as much I would like. To afford kosher meat for the two of us is enough of a problem. If you add a whole bunch of people to the equation, you've got issues. As much as I love making dairy dishes, I prefer eating meat if I'm making a Shabbat dinner. Plus, the poor Postage Stamp doesn't have enough room as it is -- keeping kosher there is a nightmare enough just for us alone.
About a week earlier, I had hosted a Chanukah dinner, and it was amazing to me, because I was reminded that we love getting together even for the simplest of meals. I didn't make anything special -- butternut squash soup, salmon, salad, zucchini and potatoes gratin and a pie. It was a small crowd, as there were just six of us eating. We pulled our side table, which, when company comes, doubles as an extension to our tiny kitchen table. Together, we shared what was in the house -- remnants of a farmers' market shopping trip and stuff in the freezer.
And yet, having the company together was amazing -- laughing with Sabrina and Kim while Ari and Josh had political conversations in the corner, with Eden eating more salmon than she has ever eaten in her life (Eden doesn't like fish). We had delicious food despite the fact that Ari and I don't have a lot of money. But above all, we had good company.
As we fall apart, despite everything, we cling to those we love, and they are our life savers. I found that after I was laid off, my friends did everything they could. And I found pleasure in doing something as simple as bringing people to our place to enjoy a delicious meal while looking into each others' beautiful faces. I found this same joy at Inbar's house.
In depressing times, we need something to cling to, something to bring us together. I don't know if I'd use the word distraction, but I guess at the end of the day, it's what it is: a beautiful island of bliss in a sea of torment and heartbreak. We forget about our sorrows and come together around the table, remembering how to laugh, how to celebrate, how to enjoy despite the dreariness.
So, to all my friends, Christian, Jewish, Muslim, black, white, purple, brown, turquoise... whoever you are, come together. Sit at the table and enjoy food with those you love. Bring back good conversation, joke-telling, endless philosophies and singing. It's the way we will remember who we are: determined soldiers in a world that tries to bring us down, but at the same will never do such thing because we have each other.
BUTTERNUT SQUASH SOUP
8-9 cups diced butternut squash
1 large onion
3 tablespoons olive oil
1 container butternut squash soup mix
2 cups pareve chicken bouillon
2 tablespoons garlic powder
1/2 teaspoon ginger
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon cumin
1/2 teaspoon coriander
1 cup cream (optional)
Heat a soup pot. Dice onion, add to a bowl with butternut squash. Season with salt and pepper, coat with olive oil. Put into the pan, allow to heat through for five to ten minutes, allowing to get slightly brown on the outside. Add container of soup mix and boullion. Simmer for 20 minutes.
Using an immersion blender, puree the mixture. Add garlic powder, ginger, cinnamon, cumin and coriander. Pour in the cream and stir. Allow to simmer for another 20 minutes.
Once simmered, puree with the immersion blender once more, until the mixture is velvety smooth. If it doesn't completely smooth out, allow mixture to simmer longer and try again.
Serve hot. If not serving right away, allow soup to stay warm on the stovetop.
Thursday, December 24, 2009
The Coumadin and I
As we approach the end of the year, it's time to look back on the things that changed us. I can't deny that this year was one of ultimate change, but for me, even a layoff was less difficult than dealing with a drug known as Coumadin, a common blood thinner usually given to people later in life, but I will take from the age of 27 onward.
I should probably start at the beginning when it comes to this, though...
At the age of 21, I fought for my life. In January 2004, I was diagnosed with five blood clots in my body, three of which had become pulmonary embolisms and lodged themselves happily in my lung. It was found that I have a genetic disposition for producing blood clots. I was given a course of Coumadin for six months, but the doctor gave me a warning as I weaned myself off the treatment, "One more clot, and you're done." That meant Coumadin for the rest of my life.
July 31, 2009, and I was done. Blood Clot #6 made its appearance in my left calf. Although I wasn't hospitalized like the last time, it meant Coumadin until the day I left this earth. It also meant monitoring my diet like mad. For those who aren't familiar with this drug, it is thrown off by the simplest things, whether it's the amount of exercise or the foods that you eat -- mainly, dark green leafies and green tea. This is due to the presence of Vitamin K, which is a clotting agent. It messes with your blood levels, which you get tested at the doctor's office on a regular basis.
Let's get something straight: I live in southern California. Here, salads and vegetables are more than just a little side or precursor to a meal. They are a way of life. If Californians could eat salads for breakfast, they would (so far, the only people I know who do that are the Israelis, with their delicious tomato and cucumber concoction). With our access to beautiful vegetables year-round, how could we not enjoy salad to the fullest? It doesn't help that as a kid, I loved my vegetables. Broccoli were "little trees" which I ate to my heart's content. And don't get me started with spinach. Popeye's got nothing on me.
The worst part was that every time I talked to my mother on the phone, another food was taken away from me. Since my uncle, father and I were all on Coumadin, everyone was able to share information from their doctors with the other (it doesn't help that my uncle is also a doctor). There were the outside peels of cucumbers and zucchini. Then came the cranberries and cranberry juice, followed soon after by mangoes. It was hard enough with my limitations for keeping kosher. Now I was keeping Coumadin, too.
I soon reached a depression. The Coumadin was changing my life completely. When I met Ari, it seemed like blood clots were a distant memory and I could go about things normally, with the exception of soreness from the scar tissue in my right lung when it became overcast and a left leg that's bigger than my right. But Clot #6 reminded me of painful truths, such as the inability to have my own children due to the danger pregnancy posed on me, and that I would be completely dependent on a pill -- and I hate being dependent on almost anything.
It turned out that for me, having a normal life was something that other people would get to enjoy while I was stuck taking pills. It didn't help that two weeks after Clot #6, I was laid off. It gave me more time to focus on everything I lost. By Labor Day weekend, I was beginning to crumble, breaking down in tears when Ari's grandmother told him how many children we were going to have and how great it would be, knowing that my uterus would probably be barren while his brother had three beautiful kids that I love, but still aren't mine.
I continued going to my doctor, as my levels were testing high. One day, she looked at me, and said, "Well, we can do one of two things. We can either adjust your dosage, or add back green leafy vegetables."
My brain suddenly switched on. I could have my broccoli back? I could eat salads like a normal Californian? Visions of spinach danced around in my head with glee.
"Veggies!" I cheered. She smiled, saying that I could bring them back for two to three times a week. Eventually, it was brought to four or five times a week, and my levels check out every time. Dark green leafies and I were reunited, much to the joy of my stomach, and salads made a comeback in the Kutner household. There was much rejoicing.
I am still adjusting to the changes that Coumadin has made to my life -- having people wishing that Ari and I would have children when we know that probably won't be able to happen, being careful about being cut and wearing a Medic Alert bracelet when I go out. But at least my dark green leafies ground me, and I get to eat all the spinach and "little trees" I want. I may not have a normal life, but at least I have my vegetables.
B'tayavon!
Spinach Macaron
1 large onion
½ cup (one stick) of butter or margarine
1 pound elbow macaroni
1 box frozen spinach
Small container of sour cream
4 eggs, beaten
1 cup parmesan cheese, plus extra
Salt and pepper to taste
Non-stick cooking spray
Sauté onion in the stick of butter or margarine until onions are translucent. Boil macaroni until al dente. Defrost spinach according to package directions and drain, making sure to squeeze out all the water. Let all of them cool.
Combine macaroni, onions, sour cream, eggs and parmesan cheese, as well as salt and pepper to taste. Fold all the ingredients together as not to destroy the macaroni.
Spray the casserole dish with non-stick cooking spray. Put the macaroni mixture in. Put extra parmesan cheese on top. Bake for one hour at 350 degrees until it gets golden on top and the bottom gets crusty. Serve with salad.
Quick Tip: Due to all the butter in the dish, I like to use healthier alternatives, like whole wheat macaroni and light sour cream in lieu of regular. However, in the case of the sour cream, light doesn’t have as much flavor as the regular, so make sure that you season your mixture well with salt and pepper.
I should probably start at the beginning when it comes to this, though...
At the age of 21, I fought for my life. In January 2004, I was diagnosed with five blood clots in my body, three of which had become pulmonary embolisms and lodged themselves happily in my lung. It was found that I have a genetic disposition for producing blood clots. I was given a course of Coumadin for six months, but the doctor gave me a warning as I weaned myself off the treatment, "One more clot, and you're done." That meant Coumadin for the rest of my life.
July 31, 2009, and I was done. Blood Clot #6 made its appearance in my left calf. Although I wasn't hospitalized like the last time, it meant Coumadin until the day I left this earth. It also meant monitoring my diet like mad. For those who aren't familiar with this drug, it is thrown off by the simplest things, whether it's the amount of exercise or the foods that you eat -- mainly, dark green leafies and green tea. This is due to the presence of Vitamin K, which is a clotting agent. It messes with your blood levels, which you get tested at the doctor's office on a regular basis.
Let's get something straight: I live in southern California. Here, salads and vegetables are more than just a little side or precursor to a meal. They are a way of life. If Californians could eat salads for breakfast, they would (so far, the only people I know who do that are the Israelis, with their delicious tomato and cucumber concoction). With our access to beautiful vegetables year-round, how could we not enjoy salad to the fullest? It doesn't help that as a kid, I loved my vegetables. Broccoli were "little trees" which I ate to my heart's content. And don't get me started with spinach. Popeye's got nothing on me.
The worst part was that every time I talked to my mother on the phone, another food was taken away from me. Since my uncle, father and I were all on Coumadin, everyone was able to share information from their doctors with the other (it doesn't help that my uncle is also a doctor). There were the outside peels of cucumbers and zucchini. Then came the cranberries and cranberry juice, followed soon after by mangoes. It was hard enough with my limitations for keeping kosher. Now I was keeping Coumadin, too.
I soon reached a depression. The Coumadin was changing my life completely. When I met Ari, it seemed like blood clots were a distant memory and I could go about things normally, with the exception of soreness from the scar tissue in my right lung when it became overcast and a left leg that's bigger than my right. But Clot #6 reminded me of painful truths, such as the inability to have my own children due to the danger pregnancy posed on me, and that I would be completely dependent on a pill -- and I hate being dependent on almost anything.
It turned out that for me, having a normal life was something that other people would get to enjoy while I was stuck taking pills. It didn't help that two weeks after Clot #6, I was laid off. It gave me more time to focus on everything I lost. By Labor Day weekend, I was beginning to crumble, breaking down in tears when Ari's grandmother told him how many children we were going to have and how great it would be, knowing that my uterus would probably be barren while his brother had three beautiful kids that I love, but still aren't mine.
I continued going to my doctor, as my levels were testing high. One day, she looked at me, and said, "Well, we can do one of two things. We can either adjust your dosage, or add back green leafy vegetables."
My brain suddenly switched on. I could have my broccoli back? I could eat salads like a normal Californian? Visions of spinach danced around in my head with glee.
"Veggies!" I cheered. She smiled, saying that I could bring them back for two to three times a week. Eventually, it was brought to four or five times a week, and my levels check out every time. Dark green leafies and I were reunited, much to the joy of my stomach, and salads made a comeback in the Kutner household. There was much rejoicing.
I am still adjusting to the changes that Coumadin has made to my life -- having people wishing that Ari and I would have children when we know that probably won't be able to happen, being careful about being cut and wearing a Medic Alert bracelet when I go out. But at least my dark green leafies ground me, and I get to eat all the spinach and "little trees" I want. I may not have a normal life, but at least I have my vegetables.
B'tayavon!
Spinach Macaron
1 large onion
½ cup (one stick) of butter or margarine
1 pound elbow macaroni
1 box frozen spinach
Small container of sour cream
4 eggs, beaten
1 cup parmesan cheese, plus extra
Salt and pepper to taste
Non-stick cooking spray
Sauté onion in the stick of butter or margarine until onions are translucent. Boil macaroni until al dente. Defrost spinach according to package directions and drain, making sure to squeeze out all the water. Let all of them cool.
Combine macaroni, onions, sour cream, eggs and parmesan cheese, as well as salt and pepper to taste. Fold all the ingredients together as not to destroy the macaroni.
Spray the casserole dish with non-stick cooking spray. Put the macaroni mixture in. Put extra parmesan cheese on top. Bake for one hour at 350 degrees until it gets golden on top and the bottom gets crusty. Serve with salad.
Quick Tip: Due to all the butter in the dish, I like to use healthier alternatives, like whole wheat macaroni and light sour cream in lieu of regular. However, in the case of the sour cream, light doesn’t have as much flavor as the regular, so make sure that you season your mixture well with salt and pepper.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
And so it begins...
And so it begins... I have been threatening to do this for a long time, so I might as well get on with it.
But first, I should probably introduce myself: My name is Reina Victoria Kutner. I have spent most of my post-college career in the journalism world, trying to make a name for myself and make my way to the big time. This was, of course, before this world came crashing in on me, and my husband, Ari, and I were both left unemployed, laid off from our respective jobs.
But I do have another passion. It started after I got married. I got a cold, which, my husband being who he is, prompted him to kiss and cuddle with me despite my warnings that he would get it too. He got it, and all of a sudden, I was forced to make chicken soup. My mom tried to talk me through it, but she confused me more. My brain was going a mile a minute, terrified of the task ahead. But that's when a miracle occurred.
I took a simple leftover roast chicken, which was easy to make, and created a chicken soup. When I tasted it, I was shocked: It didn't taste like anyone else's. I have never tasted something like that, and it was absolutely delicious. It still had its amazing chicken soup powers, such as being a laxative for the nose and making people feel better at will, but it tasted amazing.
I realized then I could be so much more in the kitchen. I could develop flavors that I never expected. Using what I knew about cooking, I could become a great cook. I started to experiment, and found great enjoyment in developing my own trademark dishes. I may not be a gourmet and fancy-pants chef, nor have I been professionally trained, but I can tell you that most of the people who come to my house like my food quite a bit.
But there is a twist to my story: I started kept kosher in my senior year of college. For those of you not aware of what exactly being kosher entails (and surprisingly, this is the question I often get asked the most when I mention that I am), it means following biblical guidelines for eating. This means no pork, no shellfish and no mixing milk with meat. It also means only being able to buy meat that has been through a special process called kashrut, which includes killing an animal humanely and making sure it is rid of excess blood. For me, this was a conscious choice, as I felt that if an animal was going to give its life for me to eat it, we should respect it as much as we could.
I find it hilarious that I live in a cheeseburger world, where pork seems to be a culinary god for many chefs in the United States and shellfish is considered sacred. But, as I have found as a writer, being a cook without access to all the things that a regular chef does has made me even more creative in the kitchen. I have been able to play with vegan and vegetarian elements, and with several tricks of a kosher cook, been able to mix up things -- all while suffering from whatever bout of unemployment has come along.
I have started working on my memoir/cookbook, "Young, Broke and Kosher," but it seriously needs a kick in the ass in order to get started. Hence, this blog comes into play. I will write as though I am writing for my book, tracking my days as an unemployed editor trying to find my place, as well as my different recipes that I come up with in my kitchen, which has been lovingly nicknamed "the postage stamp" by my best friend due to its small size. Hopefully, if we get some following, I will start posting some videos of me cooking as well.
So, as the Israelis say... b'tayavon!
REINA'S CHICKEN SOUP
1-2 cups leftover cooked chicken with drippings (bones optional)
3 tablespoons olive oil
1 large onion
3 stalks celery
1 large carrot
3 cloves garlic
4 cups water plus 4 teaspoons chicken bullion
2 tablespoons za’atar
2 teaspoons ground cumin
Chop the onion, carrot and celery into large pieces. Finely chop the garlic. Saute the vegetables in a large soup pot with the olive oil over medium-high heat. Add the leftover chicken and the chicken drippings, constantly stirring the mixture.
Add the chicken bullion and water as well as the za’atar and cumin. If using bones, wrap them in a cheese cloth and drop them in the liquid. It will release more chicken flavor.
Let simmer for at least an hour and serve.
Quick Tip 1: The roast chicken that you prepare for this should be delicious as well. When I make this soup, I usually use za'atar on the chicken itself that I have prepared the night before. If you do this, reduce the za'atar to taste.
Quick Tip 2: If you want to add noodles to your soup, cook them separately and drop them in when you’re ready to eat. Otherwise they’ll get mushy.
Quick Tip 3: If you don’t like za’atar (a combo of thyme, sumac and other Middle Eastern spices), herbes de province also work well.
But first, I should probably introduce myself: My name is Reina Victoria Kutner. I have spent most of my post-college career in the journalism world, trying to make a name for myself and make my way to the big time. This was, of course, before this world came crashing in on me, and my husband, Ari, and I were both left unemployed, laid off from our respective jobs.
But I do have another passion. It started after I got married. I got a cold, which, my husband being who he is, prompted him to kiss and cuddle with me despite my warnings that he would get it too. He got it, and all of a sudden, I was forced to make chicken soup. My mom tried to talk me through it, but she confused me more. My brain was going a mile a minute, terrified of the task ahead. But that's when a miracle occurred.
I took a simple leftover roast chicken, which was easy to make, and created a chicken soup. When I tasted it, I was shocked: It didn't taste like anyone else's. I have never tasted something like that, and it was absolutely delicious. It still had its amazing chicken soup powers, such as being a laxative for the nose and making people feel better at will, but it tasted amazing.
I realized then I could be so much more in the kitchen. I could develop flavors that I never expected. Using what I knew about cooking, I could become a great cook. I started to experiment, and found great enjoyment in developing my own trademark dishes. I may not be a gourmet and fancy-pants chef, nor have I been professionally trained, but I can tell you that most of the people who come to my house like my food quite a bit.
But there is a twist to my story: I started kept kosher in my senior year of college. For those of you not aware of what exactly being kosher entails (and surprisingly, this is the question I often get asked the most when I mention that I am), it means following biblical guidelines for eating. This means no pork, no shellfish and no mixing milk with meat. It also means only being able to buy meat that has been through a special process called kashrut, which includes killing an animal humanely and making sure it is rid of excess blood. For me, this was a conscious choice, as I felt that if an animal was going to give its life for me to eat it, we should respect it as much as we could.
I find it hilarious that I live in a cheeseburger world, where pork seems to be a culinary god for many chefs in the United States and shellfish is considered sacred. But, as I have found as a writer, being a cook without access to all the things that a regular chef does has made me even more creative in the kitchen. I have been able to play with vegan and vegetarian elements, and with several tricks of a kosher cook, been able to mix up things -- all while suffering from whatever bout of unemployment has come along.
I have started working on my memoir/cookbook, "Young, Broke and Kosher," but it seriously needs a kick in the ass in order to get started. Hence, this blog comes into play. I will write as though I am writing for my book, tracking my days as an unemployed editor trying to find my place, as well as my different recipes that I come up with in my kitchen, which has been lovingly nicknamed "the postage stamp" by my best friend due to its small size. Hopefully, if we get some following, I will start posting some videos of me cooking as well.
So, as the Israelis say... b'tayavon!
REINA'S CHICKEN SOUP
1-2 cups leftover cooked chicken with drippings (bones optional)
3 tablespoons olive oil
1 large onion
3 stalks celery
1 large carrot
3 cloves garlic
4 cups water plus 4 teaspoons chicken bullion
2 tablespoons za’atar
2 teaspoons ground cumin
Chop the onion, carrot and celery into large pieces. Finely chop the garlic. Saute the vegetables in a large soup pot with the olive oil over medium-high heat. Add the leftover chicken and the chicken drippings, constantly stirring the mixture.
Add the chicken bullion and water as well as the za’atar and cumin. If using bones, wrap them in a cheese cloth and drop them in the liquid. It will release more chicken flavor.
Let simmer for at least an hour and serve.
Quick Tip 1: The roast chicken that you prepare for this should be delicious as well. When I make this soup, I usually use za'atar on the chicken itself that I have prepared the night before. If you do this, reduce the za'atar to taste.
Quick Tip 2: If you want to add noodles to your soup, cook them separately and drop them in when you’re ready to eat. Otherwise they’ll get mushy.
Quick Tip 3: If you don’t like za’atar (a combo of thyme, sumac and other Middle Eastern spices), herbes de province also work well.
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