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thirsttrapholland · 5 years

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A Matter of Taste

Pairing: Tom Holland x Black Reader

Summary: You’re at Tom’s place for the first time and there’s only one thing on your mind.

Warnings: Again, a little suggestive but mostly fluff.

Word Count: 1521

A/N: Just a little extra something to thank and welcome everybody following me. I’m already close to my next one hundred. Shocked. I appreciate all the kindness and encouragement I have received on this blog.

I was "inspired" by that plate of food Tom posted. I was like I'm sure it tastes good, but that is the driest looking food I've seen in a while. Then Tuwaine commented what I was really thinking.

You and Tom hadn’t been seeing each other for long and it was the first time you had been alone together at his place. You appreciated how lived in the place looked; it was neat but not too perfect. Despite the amount of time that Tom spent travelling, he and Harrison had still managed to make it seem like a home. Pillows and blankets were strewn across the sofa which made it look like a comfortable place to settle in and watch tv or take a cozy nap. The shelves were loaded down with knick knacks, toys and family photos.

You picked up a picture of a young red headed woman with a dark-haired little boy sat on her lap. “Is this your mom?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow. She’s really pretty. And I suppose this is you?” You squinted your eyes and brought the old photo closer to your face. “Of course it’s you, look at those ears.”

“Hey.” Tom exclaimed while looking mildly insulted.

“Aww.” You put the picture back on the shelf and rubbed Tom’s shoulders. “Don’t take it the wrong way. You and your ears were adorable.”

“I’m still adorable.”

“And so modest about it too.”

Tom laughed as he grabbed your hand. “So, since this is your first time here, would you like the grand tour?”

You’d been offered tours by guys before. “This isn’t one of those tours that’s going to begin and end in your bedroom is it? Cause we’re not there yet.”

Tom dropped your hand. “In that case I don’t have anything to show you.” He managed to remain straight faced for about three seconds before a grin split his face. “I’m kidding. Where would you like to start?”

You didn’t even need a second to think about what you wanted to see first. “The kitchen.”

“Alright.”

“So,” you began while starting to look around. “You got a spice rack around here somewhere?”

“No.”

“We’re not off to a good start here, Thomas.”

“I don’t have a spice rack, but I keep things in here,” he said while opening the cabinet above his head.

You came closer and looked inside. “Hmm. You’ve got some good stuff in here; better than I was expecting, honestly.”

Tom stood behind you, hovering over your shoulder. “What are you doing?”

“Don’t worry about it. Tabasco, chili powder, cumin, paprika, garlic powder, rosemary, sage. This isn’t too bad.”

“I feel like I’m being tested somehow and I’m not sure I’m passing.”

“You’re doing fine.”

“So, this is a test then?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Is this what you normally do when you’re in someone’s home for the first time? You just march into the kitchen and start rummaging through the cupboards? Is this some sort of strange American courtship ritual?”

“I’m just trying to see what the spice situation is like. A preview of what to expect when I come over for dinner.”

“Is that a fact? Because I don’t recall ever inviting you over for dinner.”

“But you will.”

“A little presumptuous but I do admire the confidence.”

You smoothed back the lock of hair that had fallen over his forehead and let your fingertips trail down the side of his face before lightly tapping his cheek. “So, you have absolutely no plans to get me over here, light up a bunch of candles, cue up your slow jams playlist and make me dinner?”

Tom blew out a stream of air and dropped his eyes from yours. “Nope. Not at all. Thought had not crossed my mind.”

“You’re so good at so many things. It’s almost endearing what a terrible liar you are.” You raised up onto your tiptoes to take a better look at what was in the back of the cabinet.

“Do you need a boost?” Tom offered. “Can I get you a stepladder?”

You glared at him out the side of your eye. “I know you’re not trying to make short jokes.” Tom was a whopping five inches taller than you and determined not to let you forget it.

He held his hands up defensively. “I just want to make sure you don’t miss anything.”

“I’m doing fine.”

“Besides, if I don’t make my short jokes with you who else am I gonna make them with?”

“You must know some toddlers.”

“Oh, you’re hilarious.” He leaned against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. “Seriously though. Suppose you were conducting your little kitchen inspection and I had nothing but salt, maybe some pepper and a crusty old jar of mayonnaise. Then what?”

“Oof,” you said while shaking your head. “That’s a rough one.”

“What does that mean?”

“It’s like my granny used to say. Sometimes you just gotta throw the whole man away and start over.”

“Are you actually saying you’d never see me again if you don’t like the way I season my food?”

“I don’t know what to tell you.” You shrugged your shoulders. “No man, no matter how gorgeous, is worth putting up with a mouth full of bland food.”

A cocky grin spread out over Tom’s face as he rested his hands against your hips and started walking you backwards.

“What are you doing?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said echoing your statement from earlier. He continued advancing on you until he had you backed up against the refrigerator.

The stark contrast of the cold steel against your back and Tom’s solid warmth against your chest was enough to make you a little light headed. You still hadn’t gotten used to being so close to him and to say that you were more than a little affected by the proximity was the understatement of the century.

“First of all, you’re ridiculous.”

“Now wait a minute–”

“But luckily for you I find a little ridiculousness to be wildly attractive in a woman.”

“Oh yeah. Lucky me.” You playfully rolled your eyes at him. “That doesn’t explain why you’ve got me pressed up against your refrigerator.”

“I was getting to that.” Tom’s hand slowly slid around your hip and settled firmly on the curve of your ass. “So, you think I’m gorgeous?”

You could feel your face grow warm as you recalled what you had said. “That’s not really what I said.”

“That is actually exactly what you just said.”

“I was speaking in generalizations.”

“Right,” Tom said, clearly not believing a word that was leaving your mouth.

“Or you know, I didn’t mean you specifically. I was speaking of some hypothetical gorgeous man.”

“I see.” Tom picked you up and spun around with you his arms before depositing you on the countertop. “So, you don’t think I’m gorgeous?”

Looking at the delicate splash of freckles across the bridge of his nose and the playful light in his big brown eyes and gorgeous didn’t even begin to describe what you thought about him. “I mean, you’re alright.”

“Alright?” He put his hands on either side of your hips and leaned in close. He nuzzled against the side of your face, placing a line of soft kisses down your neck and across your exposed collar bone. “Is that the best you can give me?”

You snaked your hands around his neck and threaded your fingers into the soft hair at the nape of his neck. You drew him closer to you, your lips slowly descending upon his.

The kiss was soft and tender to start but didn’t take long to turn into something more.

There was a hint of desperation in the way he gripped your hips; a hunger in the way he licked his way into your mouth. As you nearly devoured each other a tiny itching in the back of your mind reminded you that this was the first time the two of you had really kissed. There had been chaste, hellos and goodbyes; tentative, gentle, barely there.

But this was a kiss.

Tom didn’t just kiss with his mouth; he kissed with his entire body. The hand on your jaw, the arm around your waist. The way his whole being unabashedly crowded into every inch of your personal space. By the time he finally let you go, you felt, breathless; overtaken and almost dizzy but in the best way possible.

Tom rested his forehead against yours for a moment while he tried to catch his own breath. “So, I’ve been thinking. Maybe we should skip dinner altogether and the first meal I cook for you should be breakfast.”

“You make a pretty good breakfast?”

Tom shook his head. “Not really.”

“Your bacon?”

“Kind of chewy.”

“Toast?”

“Quite often burnt.”

“Eggs?”

“Not very well seasoned and usually runny; and not runny in a good way.”

“Well how is cooking breakfast for me going to be any better than cooking dinner?”

“I just think if I’ve gotten far enough to be cooking you breakfast, you’re not really gonna care what it tastes like. You’re probably gonna be preoccupied with something else.”

The truth of the matter was that Tom could serve up boiled chicken and dry unrinsed rice and he would still have you wrapped around his finger.

“Well, there’s always takeout.”

#tom holland #tom holland x black reader #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland fanfiction

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thevintagebluebird · 3 years

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Unpinned - Winter Squash and Wild Mushroom Curry

Tumblr tells me it’s been six months since my last post. That seems pretty on-brand for me and this blog. Valentine’s day is coming up, and I could offer you all flowers, chocolates, and promises I don’t intend to keep: or I can just try to cook new recipes and take photos of them more often.

Let’s see, what’s new...well, we left the nightmare world of 2020 behind and are now firmly in the nightmare world of 2021. Still in lockdown. Still hanging out on Zoom. Oh! But the fella and I did the unthinkable: we MOVED! Yes, after eight long happy years together in a two-room apartment, the pandemic finally broke us. Working from home gets really cramped when you can’t walk behind your partner’s conference call to get to the bathroom. With everyone fleeing the cities for the space of the suburbs, apartment rents in our little commuter city plummeted! So we finally, FINALLY found our unicorn apartment. Same city, same rent, AND THREE BEDROOMS BABY. And that means no more plastic blue countertops here! So allow me to present my first vegan recipe AND my first post from the new digs:

Winter Squash and Wild Mushroom Curry! Straight off the never-fail pages of the New York Times cooking section, I printed this recipe sans images and left it hanging on my fridge for weeks, waiting for the right moment. Apparently at 4:45pm driving home during a snowstorm I realized it was THE right moment, because I stopped at the grocery store, loaded up my cart with a concerning amount of mushrooms, and got to work.

Verdict: Is the Pintrest photo complete bullshit? I need to hit up my local Indian grocery stores because I have no idea where you find a branch of curry leaves in Shaws, but other than that not really!

Is it crazy expensive/time consuming/confusing? No! It came together shockingly fast! The mushrooms can start to add up a bit but 100% worth it.

Does it taste good? So good I’m considering making it again TOMORROW.

Winter Squash and Wild Mushroom Curry

INGREDIENTS

3 tablespoons vegetable oil

10 ounces butternut or other winter squash, peeled and cut into 1/2-inch pieces

Kosher salt and black pepper

1 or 2 small green chiles, such as jalapeño or serrano

3 medium shallots or 1 small onion, finely diced

½ teaspoon black mustard seeds

½ teaspoon cumin seeds

Handful of fresh or frozen curry leaves (optional)

2 garlic cloves, minced

1 teaspoon ground coriander

Pinch of ground cayenne

½ teaspoon ground turmeric

1 pound mushrooms, preferably a mix of cultivated and wild, trimmed and sliced 1/8-inch thick

¾ cup coconut milk

2 tablespoons lime juice

Cilantro sprigs, for garnish

In a wide skillet, heat oil over medium-high. When hot, add squash cubes in one layer. Season with salt and pepper. Cook for about 2 minutes, letting cubes brown slightly, then flip and cook for 2 minutes more. Use a slotted spoon to lift squash out, and set aside.

Cut a lengthwise slit in each chile to open it, but leave whole. (This helps the chiles heat the sauce without making it too spicy.)

Add shallots, salt lightly and cook, stirring, 1 minute. Add mustard seeds, cumin seeds and curry leaves, if using, and let sizzle for 30 seconds, then add garlic, coriander, cayenne, turmeric and chiles. Stir well and cook for 30 seconds more.

Add mushrooms, season with salt and toss to coat. Cook, stirring, until mushrooms begin to soften, about 5 minutes.

Return squash cubes to skillet, stir in coconut milk and bring to a simmer. Lower heat to medium and simmer for another 5 minutes. If mixture looks dry, thin with a little water. Taste and season with salt.

Before serving, stir in lime juice. Transfer to a warm serving dish and garnish with cilantro.

Look at that spread. And LOOK AT THOSE NON-70S-BLUE COUNTERS! I may have gone a tad overboard with the mushrooms but they are nature’s meat, after all.

My sous chef for the evening. Pretty dang excited to marry that cutie in the aftertimes.

Ah yes, my favorite part of any recipe: trying to do shoddy math in my head. It calls for 10oz of butternut squash which, due to packing/shipping small boxes almost every day for the last ten years, I can eyeball fairly well, but this was a 1lb 12oz box. I have no idea why they didn’t pack a pound, a pound and a half, or 2lbs, but there ya go. I hate cutting butternut squash so I really shouldn’t complain.

Stop what you are doing to feed the cat because she is a cruel mistress and demands a sacrifice NOW.

Ask your partner if the 3″ cubes look close enough to 1/2″ cubes and admit that they probably need chopping. Oh well. Chop ‘em.

Does he look fly as hell? Yes. But these are our snazzy utility sunglasses. Not only do they make you the coolest person in any room, they also a) reduce overstimulation in a pounding nightclub b) keep the oils from onions from burning your eyes during chopping c) I guess block the sun sometimes.

Get those now-tiny cubes into a hot pan! Perfect! ...for now. Foreshadowing.

Wash your fungus. Now, I’m not fancy and don’t have wild mushrooms or foraged mushrooms (I haven’t gotten to see my mushroom guy at the Somerville Winter Farmer’s Market in a while). I got some shiitake, baby portabella, and plain ol’ white mushrooms. Store brand baby.

Snazzy sous chef grillin’ the onions.

So it’s about time I admit: I did not have some (read: many) of the spices this recipe called for. I have never seen curry leaves. I don’t know what black mustard seed looks like. I don’t own coriander. We turn into weeping piles of burned sand whenever there’s a pepper in the house. So I did a lot of substitutions: entirely left out the chiles (sorry flavor fans) and skipped step 2, swapped ground cumin for the seeds, used curry powder in place of leaves, and threw in a dash of cardamom instead of coriander (it smelled like something that would be happy in a curry dish plus they’re close alphabetically). I added a good dose of black pepper to make up for the lack of mustard seeds (?!) and, anyway, my meals are often struggle meals.

Ah yes, the other inevitable moment of the evening: when I realize there’s no way the rest of the ingredients will fit into my pan. Tall Allan to the rescue, pulling down our dutch oven gifted by the lovely Ann and Joe when we helped them move a million years ago! It doesn’t get nearly enough use. Maybe I should store it somewhere I can actually reach.

WHOO NOW TWO DIRTY HAND-WASH-ONLY PANS!

Ok now we’re getting somewhere, starting to smell pretty damn good...

If you are not a cilantro-is-soap person, chop up your fresh leaves. I did splurge on these because I also have salsa and can make next-level nachos next time I need a snack. Or put it in a salad or whatever. Mainly nachos.

This is the moment you realize that despite crafting this blog for a few years and being both a person who cooks food sometimes AND a professional pantry chef in years past, you STILL don’t ever closely read the recipe all the way through first. The curry needs rice. What are you even doing with your life. How could you forget to start the rice. Now everything will be done in minutes and you’re starving and the rice is RAW. Concede defeat, promise to make rice FIRST next time, and pull out some tiny bit of starch: these mini whole grain naan breads. They are my new obsession. They’re $3.50 for four slices but holy heck I love them so much.

Done! The whole thing came together in under a half hour, and looks nice on a plate!

We’re skeptical that sans rice this vegan meal will be filling enough, but moments after this photo was taken and before a single bite was had, our doorbell rang and who was it but THE KENTS with GIRL SCOUT COOKIES! Delivered to our door in a snow storm no less! Desert safely secured, we sat down to discover our fates: it was GOOD!! Filling! Tasty!

Final final verdict: I’ve yet to try a NY Times recipe I didn’t end up loving (the one and only salad recipe I have is their orange/radish/pistachio dish I was shown a few years ago - amazing) and this was no exception. We’re trying to eat less meat (and have already virtually cut beef and pork from our normal rotation) so finding easy vegan meals is really exciting. We freakin’ love mushrooms and I can’t wait to make this again. Probably later this week.

#unpinned pinterest pintrestfail recipe cooking

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cookingenchantress · 5 years

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Kebab of 3,000 Years Ago

First Impressions:

Right off the bat, this recipe looks very simple, both in terms of preparation and in flavor profile. The spices are limited to salt, pepper, and cumin, which leaves a lot to be desired. There also isn’t much as far as sauce, with only some crushed sesame seeds and oil to moisten it (I know that this is tahini, but there are no measurements given, so I have to look up a recipe). I’m planning on making a tzatziki or hummus side to help with the flavor, just in case the tahini falls flat.

I’m also a little irked that the filling for the kebab lists the protein as “leftover meat,” as if I have kebab meat just lying around my apartment. I had to look up an online recipe to make my own meat, which can be found here. However, it seems like the recipe is much more focused on hand-making the flatbreads, which I appreciate.

Prepping:

To start, I go the chicken marinating as per this recipe, since the book simple calls for “leftover meats.” I just did the 3-hour marination because my partner (missing her gallbladder) can’t digest highly spiced foods, but I imagine that it’ll still be highly flavorful.

I also mixed the flatbread ingredients together, which looks like a kind of wet dough.

Cooking:

While I waited for the chicken to marinate, I toasted some sesame seeds for the tahini. For the first bit of actual cooking I’m doing on this adventure, I must say that it went rather well. I didn’t get the sesame seeds to quite as fine of a paste as I would have liked, since my devices were a bit larger than the yield of seeds, but I was happy with the results.

Cooking the chicken was easier than I thought it would be, too. The marinade was simple and the cooking was a breeze. Once it was out, I just sauted the cut up meat with some onions, garlic, and seasonings to make the filling. Super simple, but super effective.

The flatbreads, however, were a different story. The instructions were a bit basic for the bread, and I think I added too much flour in my attempt to thicken the dough up. My bread didn’t really puff all that much, and it certainly didn’t make a pocket. Still though, the bread cooked through, got a nice color, and tasted good in the end.

Final Results:

Despite all my grumbling, this was actually a really yummy recipe! Since my bread didn’t form a pocket, we just ate it like naan bread. We tore off smaller bits of the bread, smeared it with some tahini, and then scooped some of the meat topping on top. This recipe definitely turned out to be less of a kebab and more of a meat-on-bread thing, but never the less, it was delicious and is definitely going in my own recipe book!

Changes:

When I make this again, I’ll definitely look into how to make a proper pita bread, and probably just save the bread recipe from the book as a general “flatbread” recipe if I ever feel adventurous. Also, I think I’d try to skin the meat before it goes in the oven. It doesn’t get very crispy with the marinade on it, and it just ends up being picked off later. Probably better to just get it off to begin with and make sure that all the yummy marinade gets on the meat to begin with.

Rating:

★ ★ ★ ★ ★

#kebabof3000yearsago #5

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battleshidge · 7 years

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plight of the pizza

Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender Pairing: Shidge (Shiro/Pidge) Rating: Teen and up; for language. Summary: Cooking was like chemistry, which she’d aced last semester, so she figured that it would be easy to whip something up. You followed a specific formula and would achieve edible success–simple. And even simpler was putting a monstrosity called a frozen meal in the oven at the right temperature and waiting for it to be done. Piece of cake, she thought.

Only...it wasn't.

Author’s Notes: From the prompt Character A tries, and fails, to cook dinner for Character B, resulting in a hoard of takeout food and a promise to never use the stove again for @shiroganeholt and @ohdearkamiwhy, who asked for it way back in like, August. I’m sorry it took me so long! I never forgot, I just got distracted and busy and here it is.

I hope you guys enjoy it!

Also on Ao3!

(shiroganeholt and ohdearkamiwhy, if you guys have Ao3 accounts, if you could comment or message and tell me the name so I can edit the Ao3 post to be gifted to you guys, I’d appreciate it!)

It had been a while since Pidge had tinkered in the kitchen.

She was a very technical sort of person. Machines were kind of her thing. But cooking was like chemistry, which she’d aced last semester, so she figured that it would be easy to whip something up. You followed a specific formula and would achieve edible success–simple. And even simpler was putting a monstrosity called a frozen meal in the oven at the right temperature and waiting for it to be done. Piece of cake, she thought.

Only...it wasn’t.

As the open oven allowed the plumes of dark grey smoke to disperse, Pidge stared blankly at what was supposed to be pizza. The center looked like it might conceivably pass as food, but the edges were blackened and the pepperonis were curling in on themselves, shriveled and much darker than she thought they should be.

She spared a glance for the smoke detector, abandoned and in pieces on the counter. That horrendous beeping would have given her a headache, if she’d let it persist. So she’d disassembled the device, because that was something she could fix later.

The pizza, however, looked like a loss.

“Holy crow,” she murmured, pulling the pan out and sliding it onto the stovetop, biting her lip. “What did I do wrong?”

She had set the timer for fourteen minutes, just like the box had said. And she was certain she’d had the right temperature. It should have been as easy as following the instructions on the box, so where could she have possibly gone wrong?

Pidge didn’t exactly have time to right this wrong. Shiro would be back to the apartment in about ten minutes, give or take a few, and would start asking her questions. Why does it smell like something burnt? he’d probably start with, raising a skeptical eyebrow at her. And despite how easy fibbing to her friends was, usually as a joke, she couldn’t do the same to Shiro. She’d probably end up spilling that she was trying to surprise him because they’d officially been dating for six months.

Six months.

Even now, it seemed impossible. Six months ago, she’d been a college freshman that was hopelessly head over heels for the teacher’s assistant in her Altean history class, and now here she was, a sophomore whose feelings had long since been reciprocated. It was almost unreal.

Shiro was in the middle of his obligatory student teaching semester, preparing for his career and life as a history teacher, and he’d been asked by his classroom mentor to attend a faculty meeting after school. He’d accepted, of course, because he liked to be useful and he liked to be prepared. And so Pidge had taken it upon herself to fix them dinner tonight, in celebration of six months together and the progress he had made.

Burnt pizza didn’t make for a good celebratory dinner, though.

After a few more moments of staring, wondering what she’d done wrong, Pidge pulled out her phone. If there was anyone who could help her come up with something in the next five minutes, it was the infallible Hunk. So she scrolled through her contacts and found his name in record time, pressing the Call button and lifting the phone to her ear impatiently.

“Hey, Pidge, what’s up?” he asked after the third ring, his tone familiar and warm.

“I need advice,” she said brusquely, prodding her catastrophic attempt at cooking with a spatula. “I’m trying to make something for Shiro for dinner and I burned this stupid pizza. He’s supposed to be home in about five minutes. Is there anything I can at least start in that timespan that might hide the smell of the burnt pizza and be ready pretty soon after he gets here?”

Hunk remained silent for a few moments, and she heard a few clanking sounds. He was probably cooking, too. But there was chatter in the background, so maybe he was at the store or something instead?

“How did you mess up on a pizza? I doubt you made it from scratch–sorry, Pidge–so how did you misread the oven instructions? Nevermind, I’m not sure I want to know, really. Um...do you have pasta? Pasta is pretty simple. Put some tomato sauce in a pan and let it simmer on low heat while you boil water and a dash of salt and put the pasta noodles in. Even you shouldn’t be able to mess that up.”

“Hey–”

“–sorry, sorry. Anyway, just let the sauce simmer for a bit on low while you boil the pasta. Easy-peasy. Even Lance can do it, so it should be easy enough for you to handle.”

A muffled, “Hey, I heard that!” sounded from the other end of the line, but Pidge merely snorted and focused on Hunk’s voice.

“Hush, Lance! But Pidge, as long as you keep the pasta from sticking to the sides of the pan while you boil it, you should be fine. Don’t overcook it, or it will be mush. But you’d have to let it boil for ages to get to that point, so you should be fine.”

“Somehow I’m not sensing much confidence,” she drawled, lips folding into a frown as she held the phone on her shoulder to rummage for the pasta in the cabinets.

“You burned a pizza, Pidge. One that you just have to put in the oven for like, fifteen minutes at the right temperature,” Hunk’s tone was flat. “Sorry if that doesn’t lend me confidence about your skills in the kitchen. Anyway, while the sauce is simmering, you should be able to add some cu–ow, Lance, what the hell–cumin, just for a bit of flavor. Personal family recipe, don’t tell Mom I told you that!”

Cinnamon? Pidge thought, Is that what he said? I didn’t think cinnamon went in pasta, but I’m a terrible cook.

“Yeah, yeah. Anything else you can tell me?”

“I’ve told you pretty much everything. It’s up to you. Make sure the pasta has enough water and a dash of salt, stir the sauce occasionally to make sure it doesn’t stick, and you should make it through. Lance is trying to run me over with the shopping cart now, though, so I’ve got to finish shopping. Later, Pidge! Good luck with the pasta!”

“Thanks, Hunk. I’ll let you know how it turns out,” she managed. “Later!”

The phone clicked into silence soon after, and she let out a disgruntled huff of air through her nose.

Formulas and calculations she could do with ease. Mixing chemicals and using a bunsen burner was nothing. But somehow cooking was proving to be a lot harder than expected.

With one last sigh, she gathered all that Hunk had told her she needed and got some water in the pan she’d be cooking the pasta in. Pidge placed it on one of the burners, turning it on to let the water start heating up. For a moment she paused, trying to remember whether she needed to wait for the water to start boiling before she dumped the pasta in. After a few moments, though, Pidge decided that it wouldn’t hurt and did so anyway. She poured some tomato sauce into another pan and placed it on an adjacent burner, turning up the heat to let the sauce start simmering. Shiro was supposed to be back any minute now, so after a moment she decided to turn the heat almost all the way up.

“I hope this is right,” she murmured, glancing at the ruined pizza on the cabinet. She started to step towards it to clear it away, but then remembered Hunk’s other tips and turned to reach for the seasoning instead.

She dashed some salt into the pasta pan. She wasn’t sure how much she needed, so she gave it three or four good shakes just to be safe before reaching for the cinnamon. With that in hand, Pidge actually hesitated for a few moments. It still sounded so weird, but who was she to judge? Hunk had said it was his family’s secret ingredient, and he was nicer than Lance. He wouldn’t play a trick on her to ruin her pasta.

After two shakes of the cinnamon, which she mixed into the tomato sauce, Pidge stirred both pans a little before moving to deal with her earlier mess.

Tentatively, Pidge reached out to touch the pizza pan. It had already cooled enough for her to hold the metal, and she reached for the metal spatula in order to lift the pizza and discard it.

The only problem, however, was that it was stuck.

“What the hell?” she murmured aloud, brow furrowing. Pidge redoubled her effort, wiggling the spatula and working it under the edge of the burnt crust. If she’d expected it to get easier after that, she was wrong, because she had to continue wiggling to get under the pizza. And when she was able to flip some of it over, she saw that the entire bottom was black.

Pidge groaned.

Muttering to herself, a string of swears and admonishments, she continued to pry the blackened crust from the metal pan. It was a slow process and she grew gradually more agitated as she worked.

Until she glanced over to the stove as the first drops of water rolled down the side of the pasta pan.

“Fuck,” she cursed again, abandoning the pizza and slipping back to the pasta on the stove. Pidge stirred it quickly, noting with disdain how a few noodles were sticking to the bottom and sides of her pan. “Fuck,” she repeated, trying to gently scrape the pieces away from the edges. Once satisfied, she glanced at the sauce, gave it a quick stir and grimacing when it felt like some of it had already been sticking to the pan. But as long as it was edible, she could count the endeavor as at least partially successful and not a disaster.

Pidge returned to prying the pizza from its pan, depositing the ruins in the trashcan that she had pulled over. There was nothing else she could do with it. Even strays wouldn’t have been able to eat that. It was so burnt it was probably poisonous. Not to mention that she didn’t even know if dogs or cats could safely eat pepperoni or cheese or any of that stuff. Some of the simplest things had the worst side effects, sometimes.

She noticed the smell next.

Something...burning? Burnt? Pidge paused, leaning forward to sniff at the last few pieces of pizza on the pan. And, once she’d deduced that the new stench wasn’t coming from her first ruined meal, her head whipped towards the stove again and she dropped the pan and spatula on the counter as she moved over to it.

She stirred the pasta–a little bit of sticking, but so far, so good.

Furrowing her brow, Pidge started to stir the sauce only to find that it was being stubborn. When she forcefully scraped some of the food from the pan, she stared blankly at it for a minute.

“Motherfucker,” she hissed, turning off the burner and staring at the lumps of black in the sauce. “Of all fucking days for me to mess up,” she muttered angrily, rummaging for some serving dishes in the cabinet. Once she had placed her dish of choice on the cabinet, she started to scoop the pasta out into it.

Halfway through, she realized that she could have used a strainer, but the scooping was mindless and helped her vent some of her frustrations, so she continued anyway. Doing it like this also helped her gauge how done her noodles were. There were some with dark spots, and she assumed those had been stuck to the sides, and some that looked...rubbery? But she tried one, and it was at least edible, if a little salty.

She turned, then, to the travesty that was her tomato sauce. The pungent smell of burning food was even more pronounced now and she wrinkled her nose as she reached for the pan.

“Dammit,” was the swear of choice this time. And then Pidge carefully tilted the pan over the pasta, pouring out what remained of the tomato sauce–or at least what still looked edible–before returning the pan to the stove and sighing, staring at her concoction. Pidge felt incredibly weary as she fished out a fork, and a little more than nervous. She knew her own prowess in the kitchen, and she knew better than to test her luck on most days. But today wasn’t most days.

As soon as she’d managed to spear a piece of pasta with her fork, dragging it through the meagre drizzle of sauce for good measure, she took a shuddering breath, closed her eyes, and opened her mouth.

The first thing she noticed was that it tasted burnt. She wrinkled her nose and kept her eyes closed while she tried to decipher the rest of the flavors that were assaulting her tastebuds. There was too much salt–that’s what she tasted next. And then...cinnamon. Of all things, cinnamon. It didn’t work with the sauce, it was extra awful with the salt, and Pidge felt tears pricking the corners of her eyes.

She forced herself to swallow and slammed her fork down.

The next course of action had her pulling her phone to her ear, fighting back the frustrated tears, as she waited for the call to connect.

“Pidge! How did it go?” Hunk’s voice was carefully level, and it only made her eyes burn more.

Softly, grudgingly, Pidge admitted, “I fucked up again.”

Her voice was a lot smaller than she’d hoped, and it cracked, and she knew if it had been Lance she never would have lived that particular moment down. But this was Hunk–kind, benevolent Hunk.

As much as she hated to admit it, though, she was calling to get the warm rush of feeling that his comforting skills always provided. He was the best person to go to–aside from Shiro and her family, of course–when she was feeling particularly down. So she listened as he hummed softly in understanding and started to reassure her with little sentences–”It’s okay, maybe next time. I’ll teach you sometime, Pidge. Don’t worry about it. Just clean everything up and wash the dishes and everything will be okay”–and she felt her frustration start to ease.

“Pidge?” the voice rang through the hall, decidedly not belonging to the man on the phone, and she cursed. Hunk cut off in the middle of comforting her.

“What’s wrong, Pidge?”

“Thanks for the help, Hunk. Shiro’s home, so I’ve got to go. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Sure thing, Pidge. You’ll be fine. Later!”

“Bye.”

She had just hung the phone up when Shiro poked his head into the kitchn, sniffing.

“Something smells burnt,” he observed, not unkindly, as he stepped into the room. He observed the scene as she shoved her hands in the pockets of her overlarge hoodie and failed to meet his eyes. He saw what was left of the pizza on the pan first, and with a glance she could see that he was putting the pieces together when he spotted the pasta.

Without asking anymore questions, and before Pidge could speak, he stepped forward and swept her into a hug, spinning her around.

“Wha–Shiro?” she asked, weakly, as she wrapped her arms around him.

“I thought you told me you couldn’t cook,” he said cheerfully, releasing her as he looked over at the pasta.

“I can’t,” she muttered, busy staring at her socks. “I messed up.”

“This doesn’t look too bad,” Shiro offered, gesturing to the meagre serving of pasta she’d dished up. He reached for the fork and she moved to stop him, opening her mouth to argue but unable to find the words to say.

Finally, as he looked at her inquisitively, Pidge settled for, “It tastes burnt. And I seasoned it wrong.”

“Well, you tried to cook for us, so the least I can do is try it.”

Shiro said it easily, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. With a reluctant sigh, she moved to let him pick up her discarded fork and watched with a bit of guilt as he took a bite. At first he seemed relatively unfazed, and then she watched his eyebrows rise in confusion. He chewed a little more slowly, and realized he was trying to process the taste information he was receiving.

He swallowed after a few minutes and cleared his throat a little. “That was...interesting.”

“I told you I messed up,” Pidge decided that her socks were more entertaining yet again. She did spare him a glance, though, and then held his gaze.

“Well, that’s nothing that a little bit of practice can’t fix,” he said optimistically, smiling down at her as he placed the fork back in its previous position. He opened his mouth to speak again but paused, brow furrowing, as he sniffed. Confused, Pidge followed suit and found herself wrinkling her nose.

Her eyes trailed, in horror, down to the burner she thought she’d turned off.

“Fuck,” she repeated for probably the hundredth time, lunging around her boyfriend to click the burner off.

The burnt sauce in the pan had bubbled, and after a few moments Pidge realized, with horror, that the non-stick Teflon was bubbled and warped, not the sauce.

“Oh no,” she breathed, eyes prickling again. “Shit. Fuck. I mean...shit.”

A warm, heavy hand descended upon her shoulder, and she didn’t dare look up at him.

“Don’t worry about it, Pidge, I’ve got another pan that same size. Your mother makes sure I have plenty of cookware, remember?”

“Because she knows I can’t cook,” Pidge mumbled numbly.

“And because she’s a kind woman who likes to make sure you and all your friends are well taken care of,” Shiro added smoothly, slipping his arm around her shoulders as he moved the ruined pan to the sink to cool. “So for now, why don’t we order some thai and watch some SyFy movies while you promise me not to mess around with the kitchen while I’m not at home. Okay?”

Pidge nudged Shiro in the ribs, snorting as she ducked out from under his arm. His methods were different than Hunk’s, of course, but they could never go wrong with thai and SyFy.

“Well, sure. You order the thai–I’ve gotta go grab something real quick.”

Shiro quirked an eyebrow at her, questioningly, but was already pulling his phone from the pocket of his black slacks. She beamed and dragged herself up on her tiptoes using his tie–which also pulled him down a little–to press a kiss to his cheek. She mouthed I’ll be right back as he smiled and pulled his phone up to his ear, and then she slipped into the bedroom, where her backpack was tossed haphazardly in the middle of the bed.

It took her only a few minutes, but she finally pulled out the box. It rattled and she grinned, turning and making her way back down the apartment hallway. She reached the living room from one direction just as Shiro stepped out of the kitchen, and he smiled at her again.

“The thai will be here in about forty minutes or so,” he announced, sliding his phone onto the wooden coffee table. “Now...what is it you had to rush off to do?”

“I went to get this,” she responded, crossing the distance between them to offer him the metal box in her hands. He glanced at it, then back to the tentative but excited grin on her face, and accepted it even though there was confusion written all over his face.

“What is it?” he asked slowly, reaching for the latch.

“You’ll see,” Pidge retorted simply. With a chuckle, Shiro opened the box and started to look through the bits and bobs inside. When he glanced back up at her, she found the words tumbling from her mouth without bidding. “I know it’s a little unorthodox, but I know you’ve been saying you wanted to get your prosthetic fixed and we already had the list of parts we needed, so I talked to dad about getting them for you. All the wires we need to remodel the inside should be there, plus some upgraded components, since you refused the last time the Garrison offered. And it’s just...well, it’s not an anniversary because those are annual, but it’s been six months now and I just thought I should try to do something for you because you’ve done a lot for me, and–”

Her words were muffled by his warm chest, and she sank into the hug, wrapping her arms around him and forgetting whatever she was planning to say next. She’d long lost her rehearsed speech, anyway, and had just been babbling.

“Thank you, Katie,” his tone was soft, and she squeezed him even closer.

“Thank you,” her voice was a lot smaller than she’d expected, but it was enough.

“I–” Shiro started, but the obnoxious clanging of the apartment’s doorbell cut him off. He extricated himself from the hug with an apologetic grin–it wasn’t even his fault, he didn’t have to feel bad about it–and moved to answer the door.

“Hi, thanks for ordering Hunan’s,” a familiar delivery woman stood there, offering Shiro a brown paper bag with a bright smile.

“I, uh, didn’t order Chinese,” Shiro offered her an awkward grin, and she laughed.

“Oh, I know. Your friend Hunk came to the shop and ordered it for you in person, and he already paid for it,” she pushed the bag into Shiro’s arms. “It’s your usual, anyway. You’ve got good friends, don’tcha?” with another laugh, she waved, “You guys have a good night!”

“Th-thanks,” Shiro leaned out the door, watching the delivery lady leave, and Pidge stood in the middle of the living room, dumbfounded, as Shiro turned around with the Hunan’s bag in his arms.

It smelled amazing after the concoctions Pidge had ruined.

“Well, I guess we’ll have Chinese and thai?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I guess,” Shiro shook his head with a grin. “I’m going to have to pay Hunk back for this.”

Pidge snorted, reaching up to unroll the bag in Shiro’s arms and peer in at the three boxes. One would be their fried rice, and the other two would be their normal entrées. She could smell them. Satisfied, she dropped back to her feet and rocked on her heels with a very pointed, “Hunk will never take your money.”

“I know,” he sighed, “but I still have to try.”

“Well, before that, you should probably change out of your nice clothes into something comfy. Especially if we’re going to chow down and watch SyFy movies!”

Shiro agreed, and with a grin, pushed the paper bag into her arms. “You get everything set up in here, then, and I’ll go get changed.”

He leaned down to kiss her forehead, and she let out an exaggerated groan and dragged out her spoken, “Fiiiiine.”

As he disappeared down the hallway and into the bedroom, Pidge deposited the takeout on the table, pulling it from the bag and rejoicing when she found the chopsticks at the bottom, as well as some plastic cutlery. It wouldn’t do to dirty any more dishes tonight, after all. And then she went about finding all of the SyFy movies they had, whether on DVD, Blu-Ray, or on the Roku.

One of the things she looked forward to most about their SyFy movie nights was the intense debate over which ones they’d watch.

Ten minutes later, they had just settled on a movie–Something Beneath–when the doorbell rang again. They shared a confused look, but then Pidge shrugged and got up to answer the door.

When she opened the door, she saw another delivery person...but he wasn’t wearing the thai restaurant’s uniform. Instead he was wearing Pizza My Heart’s uniform.

“Can I help you?” she asked tentatively.

“Is this where Shee-ro and Podge live?” he asked, trying to read a messy scrawl on his notepad. Pidge winced.

“I’m Pidge,” she answered instead, “and we didn’t order a pizza.”

“Nah, it says here that your friend Lens–or is it Lanny? Laney?–anyway, your friend ordered you a large pepperoni pizza. Here you go,” he handed her the box and, without looking back, turned and said, “Have a nice night!”

“Lance?” she said blankly at his back, but he didn’t hear. And then, when she stepped back inside and closed the door, Shiro first looked shocked at the box in her hand. The expression soon morphed into one of amusement.

“Let me guess, Lance?”

“Unless we have a friend named Lens, Lanny, or Laney, then yes, it was probably Lance,” she snorted, recovering from her own surprise to bring the pizza to the table. “And now we’ll have Chinese, pizza, and thai to eat while we watch some questionable cinematic masterpieces.”

“Hear, hear,” Shiro deadpanned, but they shared a laugh as she slipped back onto the couch next to him. He hit play on the movie and handed Pidge her Chinese entrée before grabbing a slice of pizza himself, with a wink. He leaned back, draping his arm around her shoulders and pressing another soft kiss to her temple, before focusing his attention forward.

And if they were mostly full when their thai actually arrived, it didn’t faze them too much. Whatever they didn’t eat would serve them both as lunch and possibly dinner tomorrow.

“Love you,” Pidge murmured warmly into her pad thai, curled up against her boyfriend’s side as the credits rolled and he moved to start the next movie.

“Love you, too,” Shiro responded affectionately around the slice of pizza dangling from his mouth, one arm around her shoulders and the other fiddling with the remote.

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spynotebook · 7 years

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Welcome back to Sunday Sustenance, the column highlighting simple meals for lazy days. I’ve recently started making bread for myself, and it is one of the most nerve-wracking-yet-liberating experiences I’ve ever had in the kitchen. There are so many terrifying points of failure, all of which are immediately forgotten when you smell the deliciousness coming from your oven. Or, in some cases, from the grill.

Outside of Tollhouse chocolate chips, I am not an accomplished baker. I am, however, a year-round griller. When a friend suggested to me that I try making naan on the grill, I wasn’t instantly sold. I was worried that the dough would slip through the grates, or that my measly Spirit E-310 couldn’t output the raging heat of a tandoor oven or kettle grill. I was a fool.

I once ate a butter sandwich. Why didn’t I make this sooner?

Prior to working on this, I’d only had store-bought naan. And to my mind, it was pretty good, but it wasn’t worth $5-for-two-pieces good.. So I got to work, and tried a few different variations on the puffy buttery flatbread. For simplicity, I settled on Serious’ Eats offering, with Nigella Lawson’s coming in a very close second. Though I wasn’t able to stretch the dough to the target dimensions listed in SE’s recipe, I ended up with delicious smaller versions—perfect for dips or spreads, folded sandwiches or eating three of them right off the grill.

Grilled Naan

Recipe courtesy Serious Eats

22 ounces (about 4 cups) bread flour

0.25 ounces (1 packet, about 2 teaspoons) instant or rapid rise yeast

0.44 ounces salt (about 2 1/2 teaspoons) salt

0.8 ounces (about 2 tablespoons) sugar

14 ounces (about 1 3/4 cups) full fat yogurt or whole milk

1 stick butter, melted

Combine flour, yeast, salt, and sugar in the bowl of a stand mixer and whisk until combined. Add yogurt and knead with dough hook on low speed until dough comes together into a smooth ball. Dough should stick slightly to bottom of bowl as it kneads (add slightly more yogurt or milk as necessary). Continue to knead for 5 minutes. Cover tightly with plastic wrap and allow to rise at room temperature until roughly doubled in volume, about 2 hours.

Turn dough out onto floured work surface. Using a bench scraper or a knife, cut the dough into 12 even pieces. Roll each piece into a ball, then place on a well-floured surface (leaving a few inches of space between each one) and cover with a floured cloth. Alternatively, place each ball of dough in an individual covered pint-sized deli container. Allow dough to rise at room temperature until doubled in volume, about 2 hours.

Ignite a large chimney full of coals (about 5 quarts of coals) and spread evenly over half of the grill. Set grill grates in place, cover, and allow to preheat for 5 minutes. Scrape grill grates clean with a brush.

Working with two to three balls of dough at a time, stretch with your hands into an oblong roughly 10-inches long and 6-inches across (you can use a rolling pin for this as well). Once you have two or three pieces stretched, lay them out on the grill above the coals. Cook without moving until bottom side is charred in spots and light golden brown. Flip with a large spatula, pizza peel, or with tongs and cook until second side is charred and browned. Remove naan from the grill and immediately brush with melted butter. Transfer the naan to a large plate and cover it with a clean dish towel while you cook the remaining bread.

I am but a one person, and despite my insatiable love of carbohydrates, this is a lot for me. So I asked the man himself if this could be frozen—and to my delight, they can.

Not only can you make this amazing bread, but with planning, you can make it and have it any time you want. But y’know what’s better than bread? Stuffed bread.

Oh yeah. Throw out those Ham & Cheddar two-packs I know you’re guilty of purchasing. Naan can be stuffed with anything you can imagine. I really wanted to try this garlic scape-stuffed recipe, but scape season has long since passed us by. We’re in September, and I wanted something a bit more hearty, warm and comforting. Get out the ground lamb: it’s time for naan pockets.

Keema Naan

1/2 lb ground lamb (turkey, chicken, or lean ground beef are acceptable substitutions)

1 tablespoon olive oil (clarified butter or ghee would be ideal, but don’t go crazy)

¼ cup minced shallot

1 tablespoon tomato paste

1 jalapeno, serrano or other small hot chili pepper

½ tablespoon cumin

½ tablespoon coriander

¼ teaspoon paprika

1 tablespoon garlic, crushed

Kosher salt

Ground black pepper

Keema is a fairly common filling, and basically everything I was looking for. At first glance, I thought “Oh goodness, this is basically Shepherd’s Pie filling with hugely boosted flavor.” And it did not disappoint.

Using the same naan recipe as before, divide the dough into 6 larger pieces instead of 12. During the second rise, add the oil to a 10” skillet over medium-high heat. Once shimmering, add the onion and pepper, sauteing until the onion is translucent. Add the garlic, tomato paste and spices, cooking until fragrant—about 30 seconds.

Crumble the lamb (or ground meat of your choosing) into the pan, and season with salt and pepper. As the lamb cooks, break it down into the smallest pieces you possibly can. This will ensure a more even and “flatbread” in the finished product. I’ve had good results with quickly pulsing finished and cooled ground meats in a food processor, and this was no exception. Whatever route you choose, once the filling has finished cooking, remove it to a bowl to cool. On a well floured surface, gently roll the larger naan balls out into small circles (or shapes that vaguely resemble them). Scoop a heaping tablespoon of the now cooled filling into the center of each piece, and pinch edges of the dough shut, as shown below.

Flip the now filled dough ball over, and use your hands to form it back into a now filled ball. Using a rolling pin and the gentlest touch possible, roll the dough into a familiar flatbread shape. Don’t be aggressive or go too thin here, we want to keep the filling inside after all.

As before, grill your now filled naan over high heat for 1-2 minutes per side, brush with butter, and serve immediately. Like the dough, these can be frozen as well—after you flatten the stuffed ball, a piece of parchment paper on a half baking sheet will help to prevent sticking. To bring them back, simply thaw in the refrigerator before grilling. Now that you’re armed with the knowledge of grillable stuffed breads, there’s unlimited potential for sweet and savory combinations.

#IFTTT #Feedly

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geekade · 7 years

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Geekade Top Ten: Stock Your Spice Rack

You’ve graduated from ramen and mac n’cheese and Sriracha isn’t doing it for you anymore. But when you venture into the spice aisle, row after row of little glass bottles stare you down, each more gnomic than the last and each price tag suspiciously steep for an ounce of dried leaves or colorful powder, and you always slink out of there with nothing more than another set of those disposable McCormick’s salt and pepper shakers.

You deserve better. This list includes ten essential seasonings to keep your salt and pepper shakers company without breaking the bank. Most of them mix and match well, and appear (or can be substituted for more esoteric ingredients) in basic recipes. (You can substitute dried herbs for fresh, but dried herbs have a more concentrated flavor than fresh, so use less.) When you want to cook these seasonings will enrich your marinades and dry rubs; when you don’t they will punch up your frozen pizzas and jar sauces.

Foodies will tell you that herbs come from the leaf or stem of an aromatic plant, and spices come from their roots, bark, fruit, and seeds. This list includes both. Foodies will also tell you that you should buy spices whole and grind them just before using them. They’re not wrong, but unless your idea of a relaxing after a long day of work includes laboring over a spice mill, go ahead and buy pre-ground. I won’t tell on you if you don’t tell on me.

Without further ado, here are the top ten seasonings to start your spice rack:

#10. Celery salt – Celery salt is just what it says on the tin, a mixture of ground celery seed and salt. You know that bright, sharp, green snap of aroma fresh celery gives off when you bite or cut into it? Celery salt is that snap, dried and concentrated into the secret weapon for all your dry rubs, marinades, and broths. Used sparingly – you never want your food to taste of celery salt – it neutralizes gaminess in chicken, pork, and occasionally beef, perhaps most famously in the classic Chicago hot dog. If a recipe calls for fresh celery and you don’t have any on hand, a tiny bit of celery salt can cover for you. And if you like Bloody Marys – I understand such people exist – celery salt smooths out the acid and umami collisions between (*shudder*) tomato juice and Worcestershire sauce.

#9. Garlic powder – After a long day, one of the biggest obstacles between me and a home-cooked meal is the prospect of peeling and mincing garlic. (Yes, the blade-smash trick is excellent, but it doesn’t make mincing any less of a PITA.) I may love garlic, but I love being a lazy bastard more. Enter garlic powder: all the flavor of garlic and none of the fuss. This shelf-stable shortcut can help along marinades, sauces, and breading mixes, especially on those nights when you Really Just Can’t, and/or you belatedly realize that was the one thing you forgot to grab at the grocery store. I have swapped it into marinades that called for actual fresh garlic cloves and mixed it (along with Italian seasoning) into breadcrumbs for everything from chicken/eggplant parmigianas to breaded zucchini to stuffed mushrooms. It’s not quite as good as the real thing, but it’s still pretty damn good.

#8. Cumin – Cumin seeds come from a flowering plant related to parsley. They provide the pungent signature notes of chili and shakshouka and add an unmistakable and unmissable richness to spice blends. On those winter days when you are too cold and miserable to bother with anything, potato wedges or cauliflower pieces tossed with olive oil, salt, pepper, and cumin and roasted in the oven will warm the cockles of your grim and frozen heart.

#7. Coriander – Coriander seeds (technically a dried fruit, but who wants to buy “dried coriander fruit?”) are an enduring mystery to me, because I do not understand how it is possible for my arch nemesis, cilantro (aka coriander), to produce something so delicious and essential. Coriander is both earthy and fresh, with an almost lemony aroma that brings out the best in fish and chicken. It pairs well with cumin, with which it often appears in salsas, curries, and dry rubs. Alongside orange peels, coriander also traditionally flavors Belgian Witbiers, so you home brewers have an extra reason to keep some on hand.

#6. Chili – Every spice rack should have at least one kind of chili pepper, even if you don’t like spicy food. Chilis, bell peppers’ spicier cousins, are sweet, bright, occasionally smoky and always delicious. They enliven everything from goulash to roast chicken to toasted nuts. Mixed with salt, they make a savory rim for tequila- or mezcal-based cocktails. If you only have one chili powder, cayenne has a bright heat that’s welcome almost anywhere. The jack-of-all-trades chili, cayenne powder can heat up a stew, a plate of eggs, a batch of cornbread, or even a mug of hot chocolate. But if heat really isn’t your thing, grab a bottle of smoked paprika instead. Its smoky, mellow notes add a nice touch of chili flavor with almost no heat. I wouldn’t add it to cocktails or hot cocoa, but it’s still great in marinades, dry rubs, and stews. In a pinch, you can mix either cayenne or paprika (I do both, but I’m a capsaicin fiend) with cumin, coriander, garlic powder, and a little oregano or Italian seasoning for a quick chili powder.

#5. Crushed red pepper – You might be thinking that I already told you to get a chili pepper, but crushed red pepper flakes’ texture set them apart from their ground counterpart. If I told you, for example, to sprinkle cayenne or paprika on your pizza instead of crushed red pepper flakes, you would be well within your rights to get me blacklisted from every reputable pizza parlor on the Eastern seaboard. The fact that they’re more whole than ground chilis but small enough to require no extra work from you means you can sprinkle them directly on a dish (like pasta or frozen pizzas, which often need the help) or infuse them in another solution, like a salad dressing or a dipping sauce. If you’re not persuaded enough to buy a bottle, just stow those little pepper packets from the pizza place. One day you’ll need a little heat, and your palate will thank you.

#4. Bay leaves – The dried leaves of the laurel tree, bay leaves add a savory, grassy, faintly woody aroma to broths, soups, and stews. This is one herb to buy and use whole. A leaf or two will do for a whole pot of chili or chicken soup or braised pork shoulder or tomato sauce, and almost anything improved by braising or long simmering will benefit from the addition of a bay leaf. It is best to pick them out when you’re done cooking, though; they don’t soften, and much like tea leaves, they’re not something you actually want to eat.

#3. Italian seasoning – Despite the name, Italian seasoning has applications way beyond Italian cooking. A collection of savory herbs that go well with broths, meats, sauces, and stews – it usually includes oregano, thyme, basil, rosemary, and marjoram – Italian seasoning pre-mixes spices that frequently get used together anyway. You can often get away with using it any time a recipe calls for just one of the herbs it includes. Mixed with coriander, celery salt, and black pepper, it makes a decent chicken rub. With olive oil, balsamic vinegar, and Dijon mustard it rounds out a sweet and savory steak marinade. A few shakes can help along a jar of red sauce that leaves something to be desired or turn plain olive oil into a dipping sauce for bread or breadsticks. Italian seasoning is the spice rack equivalent of a pocket multitool: It gives you versatility in exchange for precision and specialization. In a perfect world you would buy your oregano, thyme, basil, and marjoram fresh and dry them from the rafters of your picturesque kitchen, snipping off bits as needed. In the real world you crack open a bottle of Italian seasoning and call it a day.

#2. Kosher salt – This is miles apart from the iodized salt sitting in your salt shaker. Iodized salt contains iodine, which can lend the salt – and any food you season with it – a vaguely metallic flavor. The metallic edge is negligible unless salt will play a defining role in a flavor profile, as it does in brines or when sprinkled directly on a good cut of meat or fish. Kosher salt comes in bigger grains and packs more salt punch by volume* than iodized salt, and the lack of iodine means a clean, unadulterated flavor. Less complex but also less expensive, it’s also a cheap but viable alternative to sea salt, which can get real pricey real fast. Once you try Kosher salt on a steak instead of iodized, you will wonder where it has been your whole life and you will never go back. *The two major brands, Diamond and Morton, produce different-shaped salt crystals. Morton’s are flatter, so a teaspoon of Morton Kosher salt is saltier, by volume, than a teaspoon of Diamond. Most recipes base their measurements on Diamond’s crystal size; if you’re using Morton, start with half the specified volume and adjust to taste.

#1. Cinnamon – Cinnamon is the sweet, fragrant, inner bark of a tree from the same family as the bay laurel. Although best known for spicing baked goods like apple and pumpkin pies, cinnamon is the flavor you never knew you always needed in a surprising variety of beverages and savory dishes. You can sprinkle it over grounds before brewing or directly into your cup for more flavorful coffee, or add it to hot cocoa alongside cayenne. It is essential for mulling cider or wine and pairs well with whiskey and brandy cocktails, either directly or simmered into a simple syrup. And a tiny dash added to beef or pork, as a dry rub or in a stew, produces a result as irresistible as it is inexplicable.

The secret to stocking your spice rack affordably is to avoid that supermarket aisle as much as possible (except for the Kosher salt, which has less pricing variance). The absolute cheapest way to maintain your spice rack is to purchase from a bulk supplier. This is easier than it sounds – even Target carries bags of bulk herbs and spices, mostly for $1-2 a pop. The second cheapest way to stock your spice rack is to start at Trader Joe’s and World Market, both of which price their seasonings very reasonably and package them in durable, reusable glass bottles. Buy the glass bottles once and you can refill them from bulk purchases pretty much forever.

Now go forth, and never eat bland food again.

#Food #articles

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manchattanskyline · 7 years

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Good Morning, New York!

Heaven is a place on the Lower West Side

When your day starts with putting make-up on and peeping over the top of your hand-mirror to see the Empire State Building, it’s never going to be a bad day. We had a great night’s sleep, thanks to the significantly quieter room, and were feeling refreshed as we headed up The Bowery and along West Houston towards Greenwich Village. The first stop was the original location of Magnolia Bakery , made most famous by Sex And The City. I’d visited here eleven years ago, as part of a Sex And The City Tour. The series had just finished, in the UK, so all the locations were still quite the place to be. As we made our way up Bleecker St, we peered down the smaller streets to see row upon row of immaculate brownstone terraced houses. Each with their stone steps leading up to a large front door and, what one can only imagine, were perfect lives, inside. I have never been struck by so much perfection in one place, before. Of course, each person’s idea of perfection is very different but this was as close as I’m ever likely to get. Each new street revealed more and more neat rows of perfect. Sitting proudly with their tiny front gardens, impressive doorways and mind-boggling price tags. Although many have now been turned into individual apartments ( yours for just $6 million ), there is still the odd complete house and the even more jaw-droppingly priced double fronted properties.

The streets of Greenwich Village and super clean and delicately shaded with trees. There’s the odd pedestrian, dog walker and delivery van, as well as the occasional (quiet and courteous) renovation project in mid-flow. Greenwich Village is gorgeous but in quite an understated way. It’s not lavish but it’s certainly moneyed. Most of that money comes from the creative industries and there’s definitely an artistic vibe about the streets and the people. There were neighbours greeting each other on street corners and people quietly popping in and out of the independent art and design shops and myriad cafes, coffee shops and restaurants. Amongst these was an English style tea-room, reminiscent of the ones that have popped up in the Northern Quarter of Manchester and hipster areas of London. We reached Magnolia Bakery, already head-over-heels in love with the area. I stuck with the traditional vanilla cupcake with vanilla frosting and Mr Manhattan had a peanut butter slice. I think their other locations around New York are bigger, with table service, but this original store is tiny and take-away only. We sat on a bench in Abingdon Square Park to eat our breakfast. They were, quite frankly, the most delicious cakes we’d ever eaten. The cupcake was light and fluffy and the frosting was equally light but luxuriously creamy. At $3.50, it wasn’t cheap, but good grief, it was one of the best $3.50 I’ve ever spent.

It wan’t until I got back to the hotel, later, and wi-fi, that I could confirm that we did, in fact, walk past Sarah Jessica Parker’s house. After a quick Google you can also find out how much she paid for her house. $22.5 million. For one terraced house. In Greenwich Village. Who are these people living here? Filling row upon row upon row of multi-million dollar properties. They can’t all be movie stars, can they??? I’d always remembered my previous visit to Greenwich Village but as it was part of a tour, we couldn’t do much exploring. I’d also known how much I’d want to live there and that it was probably my perfect real estate location.

Now, allow me to digress a bit. What is it that keeps us going on the really down days ( and I’m prone to them more than most)? What keeps us getting out of bed, getting dressed and doing what we need to do, that day? The answer, I think, is hope. As humans we have hope. We hope that we stay well, we hope that we will improve our lives, we hope and aspire to have more. My ‘more’ is New York, Greenwich Village specifically. I’m terrible at making-do with things and if I can’t have the real, full version of something I want, then I’ll go without. I’m thinking knock-off handbags, cheap chocolate, thank kind of thing. I’ve coveted a Greenwich Village property for as long as I’ve known they existed. The hope of winning the lottery, landing a massively well paid job or discovering a long-lost relative has bequeathed me such a proper has kept my dream alive. That was before I realised the price of these places. At $20 million +, that hope is pretty useless. Even a lottery win might not be enough. When I realised this, a but of me died. A bit of my New York dream floated away, down the Hudson, never to be seen again. But a weird thing also happened. I felt a little bit more free. I wasn’t tethered to that dream anymore. The dream that had always had me wanting more. The dream that always put a grey cloud over the relatively great life that I do have. I was equally joyous and defeated, in that moment. My dream was now totally and utterly unobtainable, and that was OK. I’m OK just knowing that this place exists and that their are people living my dream for me. Without any sarcasm, ill-will or jealousy, I wish them well, because I’m out from under the shadow of that dream and I can now enjoy the life I have, already. The life that is enough.

Washington Square Arch

I’m not sure it was THAT warm

just rock up and play chess

It seemed appropriate that this new freedom be accompanied by unseasonably warm temparatures ( it hit 15 Degrees C which is just plain weird) and we took advantage of the sunshine by sitting in Washington Square Park for a while, watching the world go by. Buskers, people on their lunch break, tourists, school parties, locals with babies, everyone was glad to see the sun. The huge arch was resplendent, complete with massive Christmas tree, hanging on to the last. As seems to be a recurring there we thought it a good time to head off and get some lunch. We’d planned to go to Caffe Reggio, famed for bringing the cappuccino to America, so we set off down Macdougal St to find it. You can’t miss it, as it’s bright green. It’s quite dark inside with tiny tables and always busy, inside and out. We ordered sandwiches, biscotti and coffee and as it was such a lovely day and I was feeling a bit show-offy, I ordered a bellini, too. The food was delicious and the espresso just the right amount of bitter.

prosciutto, mozzarella and basil panini

Caffe Reggio exterior

As we headed south, further out of Greenwich Village and further in to TriBeCa, it gets busier and more commercial. Not in a Starbucks or Macdonald’s way, just in a more shops and businesses kind of way. All the shops and businesses are very cool, and a bit boho but not quite hipster. There’s still a sense of originality here that hasn’t yet been replaced with man-buns and Chorlton fringes. I’m afraid you’ll only know what that is, if you’re familiar with Manchester but a Google might bring something up.

There a certain crossroads, on Sullivan St where you can look north and be staring straight at the Empire State Building and look South and have a clear view of the freedom Tower. One of the many wonderful things about new York’s grid-system.

Sullivan St, looking south

Sullivan St, looking north

A more detailed mooch around TriBeCa brought some really quirky discoveries. Vintage clothes stores, very specialist shops ( one of them just sold salt !) book shops, tiny galleries and shops you could get lost in for days. Another long day, mostly on our feet, was drawing to a close so decided to make our way downtown, via a smart bar called The Tartinery, on Mulberry St. It was happy hour, a tradition which almost all bars seem to have adopted in New York and which, no doubt, has contributed to the wide-spread culture of after-work drinks. It was also amusing to find a few sports bars showing the Manchester United football match. I am by no means a football fan, and despite being a born and bred Mancunian, I’m not a United fan, but I did feel oddly proud for a moment. We only had one drink and after talking to our lovely French waitress who’d previously lived in London, we discovered that the easiest way to work out a tip, is to double the tax (which is shown on your bill). A note about tax and tipping: The tax is almost never included on the list price of anything. It gets added at the till or when you get the bill (check). The current rate of tax on goods and services in New York is 8.87 %. This, plus a tip (which is virtually mandatory) of around 18 %, can bump up the price of a couple of drinks or a snack. Worth bearing in mind when you’re considering holiday spending money or whether you have enough change to pay cash for something.

We walked back through Little Italy which had suddenly come alive. I don’t know if it was because, like most other cities, the weekend starts on Thursday or because of the warm weather, but everywhere was full of people, eating , drinking and having a great time. A stark contrast to the icey, quiet streets of Monday and Tuesday.

We stopped by an amazing food outlet, just metres away from our hotel, directly under the Manhattan Bridge. Taste of Northern China was to become one of our favourite places. It’s tiny inside, consisting of a minute kitchen and a counter with six stools at it. That’s it. The walls are bright orange a bit food splattered and the floor tiles could do with replacing but the food was phenomenal. The menu was really varied and along side your normal noodles, soups and skewers were beef tendons, chicken feet and other things that I’m sure are delicious but I was wasn’t about to try. We ordered noodle soup and spicy chicken skewers which were seasoned with an amazing chilli and cumin rub. The soup was so flavoursome and really fresh. Filled with vegetables fresh herbs, it felt like it was doing you good. The woman who owns the place is tiny and probably a bit terrifying but Taste of Northern China was as unique a place as you could find. All the food is made fresh, to order, in the open kitchen and even the noodle bowls were disposable. No room for washing up in this joint! On the way out, I noted a rave New York Times review of the place, taped to the window. We obviously weren’t the only fans.

After a brief rest-up at the hotel, we decided to take a walk over the Manhattan Bridge. It was dark now so although the views wouldn’t be far reaching, the lights from the city would look fabulous. We weren’t wrong. The views really are something else. It’s when you’re right up close and in the middle of it or when you’re a distance away that New York looks it’s best. In this case, the perspective you get from Manhattan Bridge

Not long after starting our walk across, we met a photographer and got chatting. He lived in Brooklyn and had a very good engineering-type job, as well as doing photography, on the side. Conversations ranged from photography, arts in general, kids these day and the city itself. After over an hour of walking, taking photos and talking, we parted ways, just as the bridge joins Brooklyn. We walked back to the Manhattan side, taking more photos of the almost un-real views and then settled in for the night, with crappy American TV.

We have a friend in New York, now. Can we move here?

WORDS AND PICTURES: An English Girl in New York – Day 3 Heaven is a place on the Lower West Side When your day starts with putting make-up on and peeping over the top of your hand-mirror to see the Empire State Building, it's never going to be a bad day.

#black and white #Diary #manhattan #new york #photography #travel #travel diary

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