chiles rellenos

Okay, Wasn't it Cinco de Mayo recently?

Whatever, it's always Cinco de Mayo in my life, since I'm pretty sure I spend 50% of my life pretending that I'm Mexican.

Let me poorly imitate a cuisine classic que me encanta.

Enter chiles rellenos inautenticos.  For the lazy.

Yeah, that lazy.

 Also known as "cheating".

And that.  Although this is Kroger brand and all wrong, it's cheaper than imported and the label is in Spanish, rite??

Still not exactly Aaron Sanchez-approved.

 

 Just look.

 

Eh, throw it in, whatever whatever.

Light everything on fire  

Decorate.

Consume; act like you just beat America in futbol; don't tell anyone that what you're covering up with Herdez salsa is actually factory processed.   ¡Buen provecho!

bomb-ass snack

Hello, children!

Today we makin' salsa!



Kids, for me salsa is a very seasonal snack, the reason being that I live in an area of the world [Kentucky] where there are distinct seasons. Unless it's between late June and early September, a good tomato is hard to come by in these parts. I am convinced that all the people out there who claim not to like tomatoes (you'd be surprised) just haven't had the opportunity to behold a really ripe one. It's entirely plausible. Real live people out there go years of their lives where their only tomato exposure happens by accident at Taco Bell. Come on. Orange cubes? And they're chewy? You're not fooling us, trucking industry. These are not tomatoes. Which makes the tomato season (yes, we're re-naming "summer" now) all the more magical and precious.

As an infant, I was lucky enough to live in the custody of a mom who grew live tomato plants from scratch in the backyard.

To me, there is still no sight more beautiful than a big heirloom tomato ripening on the vine-- warm, soft and alive to the touch, on the verge of splitting open from the weight of all the wonderful red juice inside it.

Ew. Good thing I don't write porn, right?

No better smell than those hairy green leaves, seeping oil from their pores that contains the aromatic essence of a tomato.

Ugh, seriously?

Let's make some salsa!

So, first, you want to gather your ingredients.
I'm no moral philosopher, but I highly recommend buying as many of them as you can from farmers' markets, local sources, etc.

Why?

Because you read a Michael Pollan book?

No, fool!
Because they'll taste better.

...and because people in your community made it their livelihood to ensure that their vegetables taste good during their respectively appropriate seasons, it's best to support localized sustainable economic interests, wah wah wah.
Whatever. Believe what you want, just taste my salsa and you'll know the f'ing difference, arrite?

Here are the ingredients:
4 ripe tomatoes
1 red onion
1 bunch green onions
1 Anaheim pepper
1 jalapeño or serrano chili
1 clove garlic
1 lime
1 handful cilantro
1 Tbsp kosher salt

1. First 4 ingredients, dice into 1/4" pieces.
2. Next 2 ingredients mince really tiny, because they can burn you.
3. Sprinkle last 3 to taste.

This is literally the most brainless recipe since Ellie Krieger's Dark Chocolate As a Snack. (Which has since been deleted from the Food Network site, undoubtedly out of shame, so thank you foodnetworkhumor.com for preserving its glory.)

You just put everything into the same washed-out yogurt container and stir it around, preferably with a chip.

The only catch is that chopping everything up gets to be really time consuming.
just trust me, it's worth it.

That, and the onions can be really sad!

Tears of joy that I'm going to be eating salsa soon!

Now, let me share with you guys my world-class secret of salsa making.
I'm shaking my head. Posting this is going to cost me millions of dollars someday. Are you ready for this?

Scoot in close.

...

What makes my salsa so delicious is that I mince up some of the lime peel and add it in. Shhh! Now that I told you, just try it at home but keep it a secret, all right? The tiny bit of added lime peel adds an unexpected spicy/sour/bitterness that only pops up every fifth bite, that makes people go, "Humm. She really is a good cook. I have no idea what that flavor is, but I kind of like it."
Don't tell, I swear to god! Just try it.

Now, let's make the chips, shall we?

Yep, you heard me. I mean, store-bought shit rules. I am the Frito bandito.
... But, hypothetically, and for the sake of doing things the hard way, what would it be like if we all made our own tortilla chips?

This person knows. (Always go where there are good reviews.)
My version has not only Kosher salt, but a sprinkle of lime juice before baking. I am a fiend.
Oh, and you also absolutely have to use corn tortillas.


Yom. Corn chips and salsa from scritchy scratch? A little bit more work, but yes-ma'am, these puppies are worth it.

Cooking For One

With Katie out of town all week, I have been... well, mainly pouring myself into our treasure trove of restaurant leftovers, but even paradise has its expiration date.
I am also working on cleaning out the 'fridge, something that gets done far too infrequently.

(Because, honestly, who wants to confront the the answer to the question of whether or not the mold cultures in that 1/2-gallon tub of spoiled [but chilled] meat and veggies have yet developed slavery and cuneiform? No, thanks.)

StillTasty: The Ultimate Shelf Life Guide

I am always saying that grocery sizes are too arbitrary.

Now, if I were cooking for a family of four to six, which is what all portions are exactly measured to accommodate, then grocery packaging would fit my needs and waste might not be such a problem.

Cooking for two is fine--if you accept that just because you wanted spinach three weeks ago does not mean that you wanted spinach every. single. meal. for the rest of the time that it would take for two to finish off that circus tent sized bag before the spinach in it turns funky.

One is even worse.

Luckily there are a few things that I keep on hand at all times that virtually don't go bad:
tortillas, cans of beans, and salsa.
Violà. We also have these adorable little single-serving baking dishes that I'm always daydreaming about making individual lasagnas in. And, well, enchiladas are like the lasagna of Mexican. ...right?

And now, I bring you:

Totally Unauthentic but Totally Cheap and Good Enchiladas for One

The Sauce:
I browned some garlic and onion in a pan. (don't all recipes start out that way?!) Stirred in a few tablespoons chicken stock and some canned salsa verde. Unfortunately I didn't have any chilies, but I spiced it up with: ground chipotle, chili powder, cumin, and a dash of oregano. Chopped in some cilantro and stirred it around with extra hot sauce and salt.

bambambambam. In the oven for 20 minutes.

Seriously, what is it about beans and cheese? They just mingle together so naturally and wholesomely. I remember when I was a kid and on a special night when my dad was making dinner we would have "Cheesy Bean Things." It was basically just a tortilla with refried beans and cheese, folded in half and deep-fried in tons of oil until the whole thing practically fused into one grease-mass of dripping, cheesy deliciousness. Looking back on it I think he probably salted them, too. Best vegetarian kids' dinner ever.

There. 20 minutes. Melty, gooey mass of flavors that looks like vomit but actually tastes like a black bean enchilada.
Oh, and NO amount of jalapeno death sauce is too much on anything, period.
I don't know, though, I think the way the onions in the sauce caramelized in the oven may have made them the star of the show over beans in this one.

"Onions might have crossed from being just a veggie MVP into being an over all food MVP, but it keeps getting nudged out by cheese"

--as so eloquently Tweeted by Amber Davis

How to eat?

I have been thinking about starting up a cooking blog for a while now, to eclipse my now-retired knitting blog. Knitting was the trend I jumped on in high school, and now that I am graduating college I am clumsily heaving myself onto the foodie bandwagon in the creative wake of yarn and fibers. I am eternally a creatively inclined person, relishing in finding artistic uses for the otherwise useless thing. This was fun with knitting, especially when the end product, no matter how technically austere, had an actual function that kept you warm. This functionality comes into play with my new-found love of cooking less out of boredom, as with counting stitches, and more out of sheer necessity. This year I moved into my first apartment with my first ever kitchen--(MINE!!!)--and I couldn't wait to get cookin'. We eat out a lot. Sometimes every day for weeks. We love restaurants from Jimmy Johns (dirt cheap) to Taco Bell (maybe just dirt) to Sushi (classy) to even classier things that I can't even spell or pronounce. But when they add up, meals that are not made at home are so spensive. As a matter of fact, groceries are pretty spensive too, but at least you get the pleasure of creating a meal from scratch using just a couple of knives and your noggin.

The question presents itself every single day:
How to feed yo self???!!?!?//
Every single day, I must come up with a different answer.
And sometimes it's the most elaborate but ill-planned feast that just turns out wrong.
Sometimes it's pizza.
Sometimes it's a decked out bison burger being brought to my table that I ordered twenty minutes ago. And sometimes...
just sometimes...

it's my own (edible) creation.

(For future reference, I will not post or talk about anything here that was made directly from a recipe. I think that's dishonest. Strictly original.)
Off the top of my head, here are the top 3 things I've made that I was most proud of:
-Bacon-wrapped scallops with bourbon glaze
-Pomegranate-mint lemon rind marmalade
-Creamy Indian spiced sauteed greens
And, for scale, my bottom 3 disasters:
-The time I tried to bake bread from scratch. Spent way too long on the dumb parts, got impatient where I needed the most patience, and ended up with a dry clump of hardened flour.
-Anything baked, really. My cookies aren't even good. And there's always that pernicious temptation to add food coloring to anything I put in the oven. Green cupcakes, anyone?
-This one time I was watching Chopped and got inspired, so I ran to the pantry and tried to make a dish before the episode was over. What I ended up with was a gluey, brown stab at Thai-Mexican fusion (a combination which should NEVER be attempted). Alex Guarnaschelli would have choked.

Speaking of Chopped, let me say that everything I know about cooking I learned from countless hours watching the Food Network. I watch a lot of the Food Network. I watch more Food Network than you watch TV. I like the cooking competitions with angry judges. I love watching the hoity-toity critics get a beautifully executed dish with but a touch too much salt and just stare down the trembling chef with their livid gaze. (I didn't realize that not everybody likes this kind of late-night programming so I am now careful to steer the Food Network discussions elsewhere when people bring up something awful like Guy's Big Bite.)

Let me give you a frame of reference for the stiff food criteria I'm going up against. I don't only cook for myself at home. I also cook for my girlfriend, with whom I cohabitate. She cooks, too, and she's shown me up multiple times. But if you know Katie, you know that she is very particular about her food. Not that she's a picky eater. She's not like one of those adults that brings shame upon their families by ordering the grilled cheese and smiley face fries because they dare not branch out beyond their childhood tastes. No, quite the opposite. She has asserted multiple times that she would eat anything if it were prepared well, including but not limited to a puppy sandwich, or the last panda on Earth.

That's the only thing: If it were prepared well. She grew up eating in all kinds of restaurants with her family, who has made good food and good livin' a priority over all other kinds of wealth. And that, I respect. They've taken me out to dinner more times than I can count, and only in my wildest dreams could I wrap my head around certain luxuries, like snails sizzling in butter, each one tucked into their little snail compartment in a snail pan. Or tender, juicy rabbit in a mysterious but robustly flavored sauce. Until your tongue has dissolved the crispy char on the most silken morsel of grilled octopus, you cannot understand.

But good ingredients are not cheap, and neither is the first or second or third try at something that you still don't have the technique for. I have been known to cry because I used the last of my laundry money to buy a new spice I didn't know how to distribute, or rare mushrooms that I would immediately ruin. (Then I have to wear stinky clothes for a week and can't afford to buy Ramen.)
So I guess I gotta start at the beginning. Simple meals, simple ingredients. You haven't earned the fancy stuff until you can prepare a classic dish well.
I'm hoping, with this blog, to chronicle my learning process as I figure out the ins and outs of doing just that. I have never made a dish that I thought was perfect, including a bowl of cereal I poured, so I am very serious about recording my self-criticism along the way so that I might learn from my mistakes.

So here ends my first entry, concluding with a cheap dish I can make that my girlfriend purportedly likes. (actually, she lovingly calls it "crack," which makes me very happy.) It's chicken tinga poblana:Shredded Chicken Tacos

Serves 4
Preperation time: 25 minutes
Cook Time: 40 minutes

1 (1 lb) package chicken thighs
1 (14 oz) can chicken broth
2 tbsp vegetable oil
1 large white onion, chopped
2 jalepeno peppers, de-seeded and chopped
4 cloves garlic, chopped
1 (14.5 oz) can diced tomatoes, undrained
2 tsp cumin
1 tsp salt
1/2 tsp cayenne pepper, to taste
1/2 cup cilantro, chopped
1 lime
8 small corn tortillas, heated

Pour broth over chicken in medium-sized pot. Bring to boil and simmer 20 minutes or until done.
Sautee 3/4 cup of chopped onion, garlic, and jalepenos in a well-oiled skillet over medium heat, stirring occasionally as onion browns.
Add Red Gold Diced Tomatoes, cumin, cayenne, and salt to skillet and stir.
Remove cooked chicken from broth into a bowl. Using 2 forks, remove meat from bone and shred thoroughly.
Add chicken and 1/2 cup reserved broth to mixture. Let simmer 15 minutes, occasionally stirring until liquid evaporates.
Finish by stirring in 1/4 cup chopped cilantro.

Scoop chicken into 2 tortillas apiece. Top with remaining onion, sour cream, cilantro, and a squeeze of lime.

En el taco: