Suzan Colon's Blog, page 5

Hitting the Bottle (Or, In This Case, the Jar) Again

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Yes, but we can't do it all.

There's a chapter in Cherries in Winter about the day I was laid off. The corresponding recipe calls for boiling a half pound of pasta, nuking a jar of prepared sauce, and pouring it on the slightly overcooked pasta.

That "recipe" was meant to convey two things: first, that I'd been so busy working at that great job that heating prepared sauce was my idea of "making" dinner, and second, that I was so slack-jawed by my pink slip that this three-step feast was about all I could handle. We've all been either so busy or so tired or so not-in-a-great-place that even boiling pasta is a Martha Stewart-level achievement. (A few readers thought I'd meant this as a real recipe; to them I apologize for my occasionally brittle sense of humor.)

Of course, with the help of Nana's recipes, I discovered that one bright spot to being unemployed self-employed was that I now had time to make real meals. I chopped, I cooked, I made things from scratch. I didn't become a great cook, but there were some memorably good dinners that hadn't come out of a plastic box. Time, I learned, was the most important ingredient in any good meal.

Time's been in short supply around here lately, for a variety of reasons ranging from sweet to tart. On the sweet side, I'm working on the follow-up to Cherries in Winter. On the other end of the spectrum, Mom's back has been a little tricky lately, as I mentioned on my Facebook page. If I needed yet another reason to be grateful that I'm self-employed, it's the ability to drop everything and go to my parents' house to do the food shopping, house cleaning, cooking, laundry, and all the other things we do without thinking until we physically can't do them. Believe me when I tell you I'm not complaining about having to do this stuff. I was too busy being grateful–for my parents, and that I had the chance to do something for them after all the years they took care of me.

My commute to my parents' place is an hour and a half, so three hours total. I've been a little worn out from the work I've been doing there as well as what I do at home, though I've been blessed with a husband who does laundry and vacuums without being asked. I feel a little guilty that he has to do that at all, considering the hard physical work he does every day, but I appreciate his help and let it go at that.

I think you know where I'm going with all of this: Yes, I'm hitting the bottle again. Or, more specifically, the jar–of prepared pasta sauce. Thankfully, I'm a little more knowledgeable in the kitchen than when I first wrote that faux recipe. Here's the updated version for those who are too busy to cook, yet too proud or frugal to order in:

In a large pan, sauté 1 diced eggplant, 1 diced onion, 2 cloves of minced garlic, and 1 sliced and quartered zucchini in 2 T olive oil. Marvel at how chopping really takes the edge off anxiety about an unknown future; you have to remain in the present to keep fingers from becoming an added ingredient. Sprinkle veggies with a little salt and pepper.

When veggies are cooked, about 10 minutes of sighing and regrouping later, add 1 can of drained and rinsed chick peas. Stir.

Add 1 jar of your favorite pasta sauce, one that hopefully doesn't contain high-f*ctose corn syrup. If it does, don't worry about it; one night of HFCS isn't going to kill you. Stir all ingredients.

Tsk for forgetting to put water on to boil for the pasta, but it's okay, because you can let the sauce simmer on low while you do that.

Either take water-boiling time to make a simple salad of greens and tomatoes, or go sit down for a few minutes.

Add 1/2 lb. of whole wheat or other pasta to now-boiling water (for 2 hungry people; 1 lb. for 4). Take boiling time to create mental gratitude list, which also takes the edge off any anxiety you may be feeling.

Drain cooked pasta, top with healthy, veggie-packed semi-homemade sauce. You'll cook from scratch another day; for now, congratulate yourself for suiting up, showing up, and doing the best you can. Good is the new great.

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Love in the Time of Samosa*

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I sign of love: I shared these.

A little background on my husband: He's a very honest man. Not only ethically and morally, but romantically. If he thinks an outfit looks bad on me, he'll tell me. I can state for the record that I have never asked him if I look fat in something because I can't handle the truth.

The flip side of this coin is that when Nathan says something is good, it's practically a rave. Last night's recipients of the "Mmm!" award were my improvised vegetable samosas. I was very happy to see a smile stretching Nathan's full cheeks, because my other test recipe for Meatless Monday could have been retitled Joyless Saturday. (I won't go into details; better to focus on success than failure.)

Samosas are one of my favorite parts of an Indian meal. In fact, I've often said that I'd be happy with just a double serving of these yummy appetizers, hold the dinner. And that's exactly what I did last night. These are also great if you happen to have leftover mashed potatoes hanging out without a protein to co-star with, as I did.

POTATO SAMOSAS

Thaw 2 sheets store-bought frozen puff pastry. (Yeah, I cheat like that.)

Sauté 1 diced onion in a little butter or olive oil until onions are translucent and golden, about 10 minutes over low-to-medium heat.

Stir in 1/2 teaspoon ground coriander, 1/4 to 1/2 teaspoon garam masala (available in the ethnic section of your supermarket; careful, it's spicy!); 1/2 teaspoon cumin, 1/4 teaspoon ground ginger, 1/4 teaspoon turmeric, 1 teaspoon cilantro, juice of 1/2 lemon, salt and pepper to taste.

Stir 1 1/2 cups mashed potatoes** to onion mixture.

Thaw 1/2 cup frozen peas in a little water and add peas and water to potato-onion mixture. Mix, remove from heat, let cool.

Cut puff pastry sheets into triangles that can hold about a tablespoon of filling. Add that much filling to each, pinching edges shut.

In a non-stick pan, melt 2 tablespoons butter in 1/2 cup peanut or canola oil (I used a combo of both). Make sure heat is high enough to fry but not let oil get violent toward you. Gently place samosas in oil and let fry for about 3-5 minutes, then turn over and let other side sizzle for 3-5 minutes.

Remove samosas with tongs or other safe implement and drain on paper towels for a few minutes. Serve with big dollop of mango chutney (also available in ethnic aisle–as are inexpensive spices. Did you know that spices in the ethnic section average $2-3 less per bottle than in the baking section? And that you get, like, twice as much? It's true…)

Bon appetit, my sweets!

xx,

S

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Toots: It's what's for dinner. Oh wait, not on Meatless Monday...

* With apologies to Gabriel García Marquez.

** No leftover smashies? Cut 2-3 medium-sized potatoes into chunks, boil in salted water, mash with 2 tablespoons butter. Quick, easy, painless.

Feeling the Love!

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This is the coolest: My CIW catchphrase, "When in doubt, bake" has been immortalized in quilt art! The designer, Karen, whose blog is called Little Pieces of My Life, also posted my favorite two-word review of Cherries: "Loved it." Love YOU, fabulous quilting lady.

More love: My exclusive CIW essay is still up on Babble.com, as are their luscious recipes involving winter cherries . Go check 'em out!

And even more love: A while ago I was interviewed by Lisa Davis of It's Your Health Radio, a very cool show. You can check it out here. Lisa's got a whole lot of really good shows on that page, too.

While we're on the subject of love, I have to tell you that Nathan probably loves Chef Eric Ripert even more than I do now after I made the ginger-soy marinade from the Avec Eric cookbook. We are talking some major food adoration. Can't wait to watch the DVD, which has episodes of handsome French chef Eric in exotic, beautiful locations and then cooking in his gorgeous kitchen. Now that's entertainment.

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Our review of Chef Eric and his recipes.

By the way, I have an extra copy of the Avec Eric DVD, as well as a cute Poggenpohl totebag and kitchen towel. First one to leave a comment gets the swag!

If you bake anything over the weekend, send me a photo and the recipe, please, so I can post here.

xx!

S

All's well that ends with a French chef

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Chef Eric didn't know it, but he was my booby prize (as in, the fun thing I was doing after enduring a mammogram and a sonogram).

Good news all around. First: My mammogram is a-ok! A mere cyst, but the girls are well (if a bit bruised from the mamm-machine. When are They going to invent something less cruel than the breast vice?).

Second: I met Chef Eric Ripert (see above)! If I look like a thrilled goon, it's because I am. The book I'm holding is Eric's latest cookbook, Avec Eric, based on his TV show of the same name. A scan through the recipes shows me there'll be a lot of good food in our future. Chef Ripert could not have been nicer as he talked about the fun of filming the show (despite getting chased by a wild boar) and his new line of Poggenpohl kitchens. As far as kitchen porn goes, the design we saw, which is the set for the show, is pretty drool-worthy.

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All this beautiful kitchen porn, and I'd probably still overcook the string beans.

The photos, by the way, were taken by Nathan. Yes, I went to the Avec Eric soiree avec Nathan and let him meet the handsome Frenchman I was having a rendez-vous with; see how good I am? In fact, Nathan had a very intense discussion with Chef Eric about exhaust hoods over stoves and whether one needs them over induction cooktops and blah blah boy gadget stuff blah. I wasn't really listening, just stuffing my face with hors d'oeuvres and looking at these two hot men chatting about mechanical stuff. I was in food-loving girl's heaven.

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Very glad I'm not too self-conscious because I look like a total dimwit in this photo. But this is one of those looks of sheer food enjoyment, however dimwitty.

Special thanks to Ravi at Frank Advertising for inviting me, and to Justin at Anomaly for letting us foodies drag our slush-laden selves into his cool office.

Dinner, a Frenchman, and My Breasts: A Love Story?

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Mine! All mine! (Okay, maybe I'll share.)

Before you tell my husband that he'd better read today's blog and ask me what the heck is going on, rest assured that there's no hanky-panky, fake food, or other strange doings in our house. Nathan is well aware of everything I'm writing about, and he's given me his Hubbins seal of approval, which is even more rigorous than Good Housekeeping's.

First, and perhaps most important, is the subject of dinner. I'm still supporting the Meatless Monday campaign, and I encourage you to check out their website for inspiring vegetarian recipes that will improve your health as well as the health of our planet. Dinner for us tonight will be pizza with roasted vegetables—perhaps not that inspired, but an old favorite of mine. My current mantra: Serenity—and comfort food—now! Plus, this couldn't be simpler: Start with one store-bought, ready-made pizza crust (Nana didn't have this, but it's just bread; plus, the French might eat it, so it's still technically on my French Nana eating plan). Top that with feta cheese, sundried tomatoes, olives, and garlic and onions that have been sauteed for 10 minutes. Drizzle with olive oil, shake some salt and pepper on it, and bake at 350 for ten minutes. Serve with a simple green salad and call it a satisfying, easy meal.

Okay, so if I were you, right about now I'd be thinking—or even screaming—"Enough with the food talk! What's up with the Frenchman?!" L'homme francais in question is none other than Chef Eric Ripert, who you may know from his cooking series Avec Eric and as a guest judge on Top Chef. For some crazy and fabulous reason, I've been invited to the Avec Eric book party tomorrow night! Verrrrry exciting… I'll be meeting Chef Eric and eating hors d'ouevres inspired by his book's recipes, hopefully not at the same time. (Noté bien for chef and food lovers: M. Ripert is a silver fox. See evidence below.)

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Partying with a French chef is the universe's gift to me for enduring a mammogram tomorrow afternoon. Not only am I due, despite what insurance companies and medical experts say, but I've found a lump in one of my breasts. I'm hoping it's just a cyst, and I'll let you know the results as soon as I do. Until then, I'm really grateful that I get to hang out with a French chef and eat some delish party snacks to keep me from nervously chewing my nails down to the knuckles.

Oh, and the love story part? That's going home to my wonderful husband.

Xx and happy cooking,

S

The new French Nana Diet

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Question: How do you say "diet" in French? Answer: You don't.

In a slightly disjointed yet harmonic convergence, I'm writing a magazine essay about some food issues I've had–namely, that I became so diet-crazed that I nearly ruined Nathan's marriage proposal, which centered around rice pudding–and reading Lunch in Paris by Elizabeth Bard. (Thanks, Nicole, my most faithful blog reader, for the recommendation!) Bard's memoir is about falling in love in Paris, but it's also about her family recipes, the little bistros she goes to, and shopping in the fantastic Parisian markets.

The book reminded me of the time I ran away from home to Paris–my fortieth birthday gift to myself. Instead of staying in a hotel, I rented a little apartment, mostly so I could stop asking for a table for une in my fractured French and start eating at home while watching Smallville dubbed en francais. (Clark Kent speaking French: fainting.) There were supermarkets just like at home, albeit with a better cheese selection, but I preferred going to the neighborhood shops that specialized in one thing. The fruit and vegetable man would ask me if the figs were for tonight, tomorrow, or the weekend, and give me fruit in the appropriate ripeness. Madame Cheese Vendor was always trying to get me to try something stronger, while Monsieur le Fromage kept me on the milder stuff. The bakery ladies came to know that I preferred chocolate baked goods to fruit.

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One of my favorite little shops in Paris...

Being in my little apartment allowed me to lead a double life: I walked like a tourist, for miles and miles, but I shopped and dined like a native. Everything I ate was simple and delicious. A tartine (bread, butter, jam) and coffee at breakfast. A salad for lunch. Roast chicken and potatoes at dinner, with a little dessert (yeah!). All the food was real and real good, and I didn't gain weight. (Unfortunately, as McDonald's spreads in Paris, French women do get fat.)

Since then, I've been confused by food that we Americans have invented that sounds good in theory but doesn't react well in my system (see previous blog). I've gone on diets that were supposed to help me lose weight and be healthy but had me ingesting chemicals instead of real food. Ultimately, they also messed up my eating habits.

I was brought up on very simple food that was deliciously, lovingly prepared by my mother and my grandparents. Why is eating now so difficult? Rhetorical question; I read The Omnivore's Dilemma. Yet I still don't understand why we need to improve upon things that are not only fine but wonderful exactly as they are.

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Needs a little vinaigrette, but not genetic modification, added chemicals, preservatives, insecticides, vitamins, etc., etc....

Lunch in Paris is reminding me of the extraordinary pleasures of eating simple food. I experienced that feeling when I was making my grandmother's recipes and writing Cherries in Winter–yet I look in my fridge and see packages of things with lots of multi-syllabic ingredients. Michael Pollan's sage advice in his book In Defense of Food was, "Don't eat anything your great-great-grandmother wouldn't recognize as food." As someone who wrote about grandma-era recipes, I really identify with that.

Maybe I'll create my own diet: If Nana didn't eat it, and the French don't eat it, then I'm not eating it. Or, as Clark Kent would say, "Suzan–ne le mangez pas! Ce n'est pas vraie nourriture!"

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Smallville photo courtesy of WarnerBros.com.

Got fake milk?

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(Warning: I'm about to launch into my women's magazine writer voice…)

Whether you have physical issues with milk due to lactose intolerance, or your aversion is more ethical because you're vegan, you've probably sampled some of the many milk analogues available these days. Dairy substitutes made from soy, almonds, rice, and even hemp are being poured over cereal and into coffee instead of conventional milk. But here are two questions: Are they any good, and are they, in fact, good for you? And speaking of fake, enough with that generic "writer's" tone…

I'm not lactose intolerant, but the more I learn about food, the more I'm appalled by the way conventional dairy cows are treated, and it can be difficult to find humanely-produced dairy products. (Farmers' markets are usually good sources.)

Fortunately, I love soy milk. I found it when I was a militant, fist-shaking vegan many years ago. Back then there were maybe two brands of soy milk, and they were only available at health food stores. I tried EdenSoy Vanilla flavored "milk" and was in non-dairy heaven.

Over time, more soy milk brands came to supermarkets and even Starbucks coffee bars, with Silk reigning supreme. The dominance of soy-based milks over other types of milk substitutes is probably because soybeans are one of America's biggest, and cheapest, crops. While corn has been put to all sorts of other uses, some of them highly questionable (did we really need high fructose corn syrup?), soybeans are now being used as more than cattle feed. In fact, it feeds dairy cows and the people who don't want the milk from those cows… Interesting circle of life. Like maybe a trapezoid of life or a widget of life or something.

Having been a soymilk drinker for years, I can attest to its tastiness. It's as creamy as whole milk but sweeter–mostly due to added sugar. (There are sugar-free soymilks available. Not surprisingly, they aren't that popular in the House of Sugarholics.) The issue with soy is twofold: one, most commercially available soy milk is made from genetically modified crops, and two, soy contains phytoestrogens. Over-consumption of soy products–soy milk, tofu, tempeh, and soy-based mock meats–can affect your hormone balance. This isn't based on something I read on the web, but something I personally experienced. The details are a little TMI, but when I cut back on my soy intake, the problems disappeared.

This event led me to try out other milk analogues, mainly almond milk and rice milk. Silk Pure Almond Milk definitely had that creamy consistency I crave; I'm of the opinion that they serve iced coffee with skim milk in purgatory, so creaminess is a must. It also has lots of protein for not a lot of calories. But almond milk also has a distinct flavor and sweetness; even the "original" flavor of Silk Pure Almond was very sweet. In my unscientific taste tests, I found that almond milk went best on cereal, was decent straight, and it did better in coffee than in tea. Overall, okay, but not as versatile as soy milk.

Next was Rice Dream Rice Drink. Please note the distinction of "drink" and not "milk." Fans of skim milk will find this thin, sweet liquid a fine substitute. I am not a fan of skim milk.

I'm sorry, but I can't yet wrap my mind around hemp milk, though my friend Lauren loves it. Maybe some day, Lauren and I will share hemp-milk lattes together. Not today.

Taking into consideration the unnatural way food is produced in this country, as well as my physical needs–I'm not even bringing my taste buds into the ring–I hope I can find real milk that's ethically produced, or use a little restraint with the soy in the tea, the cereal, with dessert… How I miss the days with the Cap'n, Bugs, and a quart of good old-fashioned, non-rBST, rBHG, humanely-produced white stuff.

If you've tried any of these–or hemp milk!–let me know…

xx,

S

Thanks to Clker.com for the cow clip art.

Meatless Monday goes retro!

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Dig those crazy Mad Men-esque graphics!

My Nana had a collection of recipe booklets she got from various companies in the 1940s, '50s, and '60s. I can't vouch for the recipes, but they're the coolest things ever to look at. Just behold this booklet of beauty from the Colonna Parmesan Cheese company!

There's no date on the booklet, but I'm guessing it's late '50s/early '60s. So, since last night's Meatless Monday candidate, tamale pie, was deemed "Eh" by The Hubbins, I'm going retro today with some (nearly) meatless recipes from Colonna. Just ignore the instructions for beef bouillon cubes in the onion soup recipe; vegetable broth cubes work just as well.

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Oh, and in case you're wondering how all the bread crumbs, cheese, and eggs are going to affect you, Colonna very kindly included an "Average Weight Chart." Hey, give me another helping of that lasagna…

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Some things I've learned from women's magazines.

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One of the themes I've been exposed to in my many years of working at women's magazines is the power of positive thinking. That's not a new concept–Think and Grow Rich by Napoleon Hill, published in 1937 during the Great Depression, is the granddaddy of positive thought books. But around late 2008, I remember thinking, Really? Is The Secret going to help us deal with what's going on in the Great Recession?

As it turns out, the answer is no. But I came across this blog by Mark Evanier courtesy of Neil Gaiman, author extraordinaire. The entry I'm referencing is "One Phone Call," and if you're a freelancer or just "in between things" at the moment, it's worth reading. Not only does it give a good perspective check on the current job market, but it shows how wishful thinking is nothing without actual action. And taking action always makes me feel more hopeful and less wishful.

Another theme I've come across while working at women's magazines is that apparently, women like to eat salad alone and laugh. Or maybe eating salad alone makes them laugh. Or maybe they're going crazy from so much salad. I posted this on my Facebook page, and a few of my friends who were eating salad weren't laughing so much. Me, I was eating bean tostadas and laughing my butt off.

xx,

S

Special thanks to Neil Gaiman, The Hairpin, and C-Monster for turning me on to the salad thing.

Awesome! Bean!! Tostadas!!!

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Saved me from starving, this did.

They really do deserve all those exclamation points…

First of all, happy new year! Please let me know what your new year's eve menu was. Ours consisted of pasta (red sauce, of course), spinach and arugula salad with sauteed shitake mushrooms and red onion and toasted walnuts (balsamic vinaigrette, of course), and Isa Chandra Moskowitz's outrageous lower-fat vegan chocolate bundt cake. All amazing, especially the cake. Note that it is billed as "lower" fat, not low fat–which is why I'll be reaching for Isa's latest book, Appetite for Reduction, in this new year, so I won't have to buy some new (bigger) pants…

Anyway. Among the cookbooks I've been rediscovering as I embrace the Meatless Mondays campaign is an oldie but a goodie: Vegetarian Pleasures by Jeanne Lemlin. VP was first published in 1986, around the time I'd just gone vegetarian and moved to my very first apartment, a studio above an Irish bar. The floors were sagging, the noise was crazy, the mice were bold, and I was in love with the joint.

The kitchen and I had a nearly an abusive relationship: I insulted it with my lack of cooking skills, and the testy stove tried to blow me up on several occasions. But with Jeanne's gentle guidance, I soon learned how to make tofu fra diavolo, an amazing meatless meatloaf that even my Dad, a true carnivore, begged me to make at holidays, and these fabulous bean tostadas. All was well until my apartment nearly burned down, but the fire did not start in my kitchen, which I was getting along with beautifully until I was removed from my apartment via window by the NYFD.

Years later, I would mention Vegetarian Pleasures in one of my O essays, and Jeanne actually wrote me to thank me! I was humbled; this was like Yoda thanking Luke Skywalker. I immediately wrote her a gushing fan letter thanking her for saving me from starvation in my early twenties.

So now, here's my variation on Jeanne's beans. I bow down before her, and your guests (2 hungry eaters; double up for 4) will bow before you when you present them with this dish. (Note: No photo yet as the food was so good we demolished it before thinking–"The blog!" The one tostada left standing will be photographed shortly.)

I DREAM OF JEANNE'S BEAN TOSTADAS

Add 1 cup brown rice to 2 cups water in a pot. Bring to a boil and then turn heat down to let simmer for 30 minutes while you make the tostadas.

Saute 4 minced cloves of garlic and 1 diced onion in about 2 T olive oil until tender, about 10 minutes.

Drain and rinse 2 cans low-sodium black beans and add to onions and garlic. Add 2 scant teaspoons of oregano and salt+pepper or Jane's Krazy Salt to taste. Let simmer for another 10 minutes.

Spoon bean mixture into 4 whole-wheat tortillas, fold, and put into baking dish. There will be bean mixture left over; pour it on top of the tostadas. Add 4-5 tablespoons of your favorite salsa. Crumble goat cheese or vegan cheese on top of tostadas and broil on low until cheese is brown, about 5 minutes or less.

Serve tostadas with sliced avocado on top and brown rice on the side.

Please enjoy.

xx,

S