FEAR AND LOATHING

"You fat lazy pig."
"Why did you eat that?"
"What a loser quitting after only five miles."
I hear these comments ten times a day and I am sick of them.
They've gotta stop.
It would be easier if I could turn to someone - a husband, a sister or a friend, and scream "shut up!"
But they're not the culprits.
It's me and my self-loathing mind.
This is another one of those posts that is deeply personal and difficult to write.
I work hard to maintain my weight and fitness, yet I haven't conquered my inner critical voice.
It creeps in so easily and I buy into it surprisingly quickly. Arrrghhhh!
Until a few days ago...
I passed a display of an old fashioned switchboard, the kind where the operator plugs cords in and pulls them out to connect calls, and it came to me.
My mind is like that switchboard.
I am in command of what I plug into my universe.
Now, when the shame inducing bitch lectures me, I visualize yanking the wire out and disconnecting her negativity.


Hasta la vista, baby!

ME AND MY ARTIE (With apologies to Harry Nilsson)

One of the best things about food is recalling the first time something special passed over your lips.
Ten years ago I ate my first grilled artichoke. It was served as a humble side veggie but for me it was the star of the plate. I was raised on water logged artichokes dipped in cold mayonnaise. This was a revelation!
Chef Steve Rose of the Vineyards Inn graciously shared his recipe:
Steam artichoke until about 80% done. For a large artichoke that's about thirty minutes.
Immediately plunge in a bath of ice water until completely cooled.
Drain on paper towels.
Cut in half and remove the fuzzy leaves and trim just above the heart line.
Marinate in a non-reactive dish with olive oil, soy sauce and worcestershire.
Grill until heated through and caramelized, about ten to fifteen minutes.
These guys are so flavorful you don't need an aoili, but if you're a dipper like me, try a spicy concoction of Sirachi, mayo, lemon, and minced garlic.
http://www.vineyardsinn.com/

MY LOVELY BONES

Last night I bought a rotisserie chicken at my local market for tacos and I meticulously removed all the meat.
I opened the trash to throw away the bones and I froze. I just couldn't go through with it.
Even though I was exhausted, my conscience was calling. The stock that was waiting to be created couldn't be destroyed.
My chef pal Taki is to blame, rather, to receive the credit for my carcass-saving heroics.
It was during a break recording Food Guy and Marcy at the Kendall-Jackson Wine Center that I wandered into the kitchen and saw Taki prepping bouillabaisse. Next to his seafood, he had neat piles of shrimp shells, empty crab knuckles and lobster exoskeletons. He explained that even if he didn't have the time to make stock right away, he always freezes shells and bones. To do anything differently would be a culinary sin.
And stupid.
So now one shelf in my freezer is lovingly dubbed "The Graveyard" and my stock is simmering away.


Which brings me to a debate.
Is there a difference between broth and stock?
It's my understanding that stock is made with bones and broth is made with meat.
They can be quite interchangeable, but stock is a better base for sauces.
Thank goodness for my lovely bones.

SHOULD YOU SLEEP WITH YOUR LETTUCE?

You probably don't want to go nighty night with your romaine, but you may want to consider using a pillow case to ensure perfectly crisp lettuce every time.
My grandmother Germy was persnickety about her lettuce. Back in the day there were no pre-washed or pre-packaged salad mixes; I doubt that she would have used them anyway.
She took great pride in meticulously rinsing each leaf and air drying them on paper towels.

Then she would gently, and I mean gently because you don't want to bruise the lettuce, place the leaves in a pillowcase. It has to be one hundred percent cotton because polyester absorbs water and that will lead to a soggy salad.

Lastly, Germy would carefully fold the top of the pillowcase and put the lettuce in the refrigerator to rest for several hours.


When creating a spectacular salad, this technique is just the tip of
the iceberg.
Bad puns aside, you're gonna seriously thank me when you bite into your crisp and crunchy lettuces of love.

BRATS!

Is art really imitating life?
If that were my life I'd probably be in prison.
Why is that mom cowing to those screaming brats?
Rewarding those insolent snots with a second batch of cupcakes is heresy.
Forget pulling the cupcakes off the pan.
I'd need the Pam to peel the little wretches off the wall.

SALVADOR AND ME

I just returned from a vacation in Cabo San Lucas.
While poolside margaritas have their appeal, I need more action than that, and what better action than cooking?
Lucky for me our villa came equipped with a kitchen and Salvador.
Salvador helped me navigate beyond my bad high school Spanish and into the mercados.
He also shared family recipes for the Mexican food I know and love but have never prepared.
We started with the rice that is usually offered as a side dish with refried beans. The refried beans tend to be high in fat, but not this:

Vegetable oil
Minced onion
Minced garlic
Chopped red pepper
One cup long grain rice
Two cups chicken stock
One tablespoon tomato paste (or more)
Minced green onion
Lime
DIRECTIONS:
Heat the oil and add garlic, onion and peppers.
After a few minutes add the rice and coat in the mixture.
Next stir in the tomato paste until the rice is well coated. Pour in the chicken stock.
Cover and simmer twenty minutes or until all the liquid is absorbed.
Serve garnished with green onion and a lime. You gotta have the lime!!!
P.S. If you're looking for more kick, add chili powder with the stock.

Chicken is my fleshy protein of choice. I asked Salvador to teach me a typical Mexican preparation. Although we were in the desert of San Jose, he chose chicken adobo made with a Yucatan spice, achiote:


Three pounds chicken pieces
Three cups freshly squeezed orange juice
One cup vinegar
Three tablespoons (or cubes) of adobo. More if you like it spicy.
Salt and pepper
Mix all the ingredients and marinate three hours and up to over night.
DIRECTIONS:
Preheat oven to 350 degrees
Coat chicken with a bit of vegetable oil so it won't stick to the grill.
Grill on both sides until there is a nice crust.
Finish cooking in the oven, about thirty minutes


Meeting my amigo Salvador and learning to cook in his native land was a joy.
Way better than margaritas.

VEGETABLE HAS BECOME A FOUR LETTER WORD

I was aghast when I watched the Chef Boyardee ravioli commercial the other night.
The TV mother is thrilled that the product contains an entire serving of vegetables, yet she withholds that information from her kid. She is so determined to keep the vegetables a secret that she bangs on pots and pans so that her husband won't let the cat out of the bag, er, can.
Ack!
What's the point of feeding your kids healthy and nutritious food if you hide it from them?
Isn't mom worried about the 900 grams of sodium or the sugarized tomato sauce? On second thought, probably not, because the pasta sauce closely resembles McDonald's ketchup which contains sugar, too.
I confess that when my kids were little, I called salmon "orange steak" to get them to eat it, but fish is real food.
And this is not just a food issue.
This is a morality issue.
How can we raise a nation of healthy children when we don't tell them the truth about what they are eating?
I am rankled.
I think I need a yoga class.