Chopped: The Home Version

Deb: We went up to a beach house on Lake Huron with our dear friends, Sandy and Greg. (Beach House story: part one; and Beach House: part two). They are big fans of a TV show called Chopped on the Food Network and asked us if we wanted to play the “home version”. For those of you who don’t know Chopped, the basic idea is that each team gives the other team three edible items for each course and they must come up with an appetizer, main course, and dessert. They do have the use of a pantry to help, but the three items must be featured in each dish.

So we set out in teams to try and live up to the standard. Sandy and Greg were one team and Colin and I the other. We loved it so much that we did one final challenge featuring girls versus boys. The fun part of our home version was that we were not judging, just enjoying the challenge. So here is how we played:

We put our three items in a box and presented them to the other team. They had a few minutes to talk through their dish while preparing the cocktail of the day. They could, if they wanted, use one of the three ingredients in the cocktail, but it also had to be used prominently in the dish.

First challenge was to Colin and I. Here are the ingredients that Sandy and Greg gave us:

113gram can of hot and spicy Vienna Sausage

I can whole chestnuts

I mango

Second challenge we gave Greg and Sandy. Here are the ingredients we gave to them:

Cranberries

Patty pan squash

Onion soup mix

For the last challenge, the boys gave the girls:

Bok choy

Small bag of potato chips (half eaten I might add)

1 small pepperoni

And the girls gave the boys:

Bag of Cheesies

Canned corn

Some kind of nut. (I do not remember exactly what kind of nut and neither does my husband. But it was in fact, some kind of nut.)

This was the most fun game. Not only did we enjoy the creativity of all the challenges, but despite some wonky ingredients, they all tasted fantastic. Did I mention that one of the cocktails had bok choy in it and one of them had Cheesies?

As many of you know, I am not with the cookery-okery, but I am with the presentation. I rock the plate but not the pot. So that was what I brought to the party. That, and lots of chopping. I am on my way to mastering the bull cook. Kind of. Not really. Trying though. The others brought real culinary skill. The only request I made of my husband for the next time was that he at least pretend to tell me what we are making. He agreed.

Barbara: Deb, you didn't give yourself full credit here: you also took every one of these stunning photos! Look at you getting all pro on us! 

You told me about this fantastic game after your trip to the beach house together. Sandra and I also spoke about it. I have to say, the idea absolutely galvanized me. It sounded like an eater’s delight. And the way you guys described the delicious foods you produced with this eclectic mix really blew me away. I looooooove food and almost every variation thereof, when it’s inventive and delicious, all the better. That said, I also—despite my comfort and relative ease in the kitchen—told Sandra of my insecurity when it came to the thought of a challenge like this one. She assured me that it was easier than it sounded and that I would be fine—and that it would be exciting and fun to try. You guys have planted a seed: we definitely entertain enough here (not to mention our fabulous BabyFest get-together) that this might have to make our “menu” one day!!

Oh, and Happy Labour Day, everyone!! xo

What To Say, What To Do

Barbara: For today’s short post, and in honour of the current situation, I thought it would be appropriate to call back an earlier post that we did about cooking for people in times of trouble or need. We asked all of you to contribute your favourite recipes for offering and freezing, food that can sustain when no one feels like cooking, food that also tastes delicious.

It’s been my intention since we posted to catalogue all those recipes, giving each of you who contributed due credit (first names only if you prefer), and posting it to a stand-alone page in our side-bar. It could live there for any of us who might find ourselves suddenly on the “giving” end of life. If you posted a recipe but have any objection to being included by name, please let me know at radeckirites(at)gmail(dot)com (no worries!). In the meantime, please link here if you want to read the original article.

I also want to take this chance to give a shout-out to all of you who “never know what to say” in bad times and yet still venture a kind and loving word or two. I want to assure you that to a person in crisis every kind word is so very valued, appreciated, and needed. They may never be able to acknowledge it, they may not remember to, they may not have the words yet themselves, but in our experience (and, sadly, we’ve had a lot), literally every word of support and compassion makes its way into our hearts and helps with the heeling. This is definitely a “just do it” moment.

Here’s another fast and easy recipe I love. This soup is delicious and comforting, freezes well, and is super-easy to make. You can easily double or triple it.

Yummy lentil soup

4 cups chicken (or veggie) stock

2 cups coconut milk

1 tablespoon green or red curry paste

1 tbsp peanut oil (or any oil)

1 cup cooked green lentils (ie, canned)

6 lime leaves (found in Asian food stores), chopped thinly if fresh (you can freeze the extra leaves after), or whole if dried (then just pluck them out like bay leaves when done cooking)

Heat the oil, then add and heat the curry. Add stock, coconut milk, lentils and lime leaves. Gently heat until it comes to a light boil—10-30 minutes.

The lime leaves give a really lovely lemony flavour, but if you can’t find them, it’s fine without. You can also add fresh peas or snow peas or baby corn. Mmmm.

Spent

Deb: Mom is coming home. Monday. That was going to be the subject of my blog. Because I am rejoicing. We all are.

But...

I am also spent. We all are. You know how it is when a crisis winds down and you find yourself unable to move, peep or pontificate?

That is where I am at. Between a bed and a sleep place.

So I will take this time to say thank you. Thanks to each and every single one of you who reads the blog and comments, reads the blog and doesn’t, reads the blog on Facebook or reads the blog when it’s shared.

And to each of you who have reached out and made me feel packed in support, I thank you.  I really truly felt your love, advice and shared experiences coming at me at the speed of blog. And I took each comment to heart.

We are moving to the next phase, the one that opts us out of all the previous confusion and pain and sends us toward the optimistic future. And we have every reason for optimism.

Mom is coming home.

Barbara: Yay, Deb!!! Not that you’re spent, of course, but that your mom is going home. And that the village made sure she could get there. Wow. So impressive.

Okay, I have to make a call-out to our blog peeps now. I would like to send over some yummy easy food for Deb’s parents to heat up, but really have no awesome “casserole” recipes. I cook on order, in the moment. I go—yes, every day—to the store and get my supplies. I’m not and have never been good at the plan-ahead. Hence my dearth of good meals that can be made ahead and frozen. Maybe portioned-up for the 2-person meal.

If any of you have any great recipes you don’t mind sharing, I would be so very grateful!!

Love!

And The Award Goes To…

Barbara: Before I announce the recipient of my honourary Academy Award, let me explain the whole Oscar “phenomenon” as it exists in my house. First of all, growing up with dreams of being a successful actor had the usual effect on me: yes, if you must know, I did indulge in imaginary Oscar acceptance speeches; yes, they were emotional and heartfelt thank-yous to my beloveds, and yes, oh yes, they far exceeded the 45-second time allotment. I have watched the Oscars every year for as many years as I can remember.

That said, I’m not actually much of an awards show watcher. I mean, there are so many: the Golden Globes, the Emmys, the SAG Awards, the Canadian Geminis, and on and on. It’s as if I have an ingrained limit and one show a year fills it to capacity. It’s kind of the same with sports. I almost never watch sports on TV, but when the Olympics are on, just try and interfere with my viewing pleasure.

Okay, so we’re clear on where I stand on awards shows in general and the Academy Awards show in specific. So it shouldn’t be a great leap for you to imagine the almost religious ceremony I build around watching the show. I like to stay home, en famille (where I won’t miss a thing), I watch the pre-show arrivals and mock the inane banter that comes from the mouths of the clearly nervous interviewers, I watch (or watched) the Barbara Walters special, and I only go to the washroom during commercial breaks. Years ago, I told my husband I would not be cooking on that night. Ever. My husband and I mostly share the cooking ritual here in a your-turn-my-turn kind of system. Well, it doesn’t matter if he cooked the night before, on awards night it is never, ever (did I say that already?) my turn. Hollye said it the other day: the Academy Awards is like my Super Bowl.

And Phil has gamely met my demands unflinchingly, year after year. So here’s where we get to my honourary award. There was a time when he simply prepared, you know, easy stuff like chicken wings or ribs. But then a few years ago he got it into his head that he was going to make a themed dinner (themed to the nominated movies, a menu found, I think, on Epicurious.com). Well, martinis were served with dainty hors d’oeuvres, plates were brought heaped with seared tenderloin and sautéed veggies and mushroom risotto, dessert was served with sparkling wine. It was a glorious feast. So glorious, in fact, that my daughters and I fairly swooned for the couple of hours it took to eat. We may even have glanced away from the ceremonies a few times to acknowledge his masterful meal.

And so, much to my husband’s chagrin, a ritual was born, one that would forever after scoff at plain old chicken wings and ribs. I’m not sure how thrilled Phil is that he has been swept up by our manic devotion to his culinary services, but he continues to step up and outdo himself. This year: French onion soup, and cassoulet with duck confit, both made from scratch (French theme in honour of Inception’s setting). 

Black and White Brownies courtesy of my Younger. Mmmm.

Oh my friggin god.
Thanks, sweetie, the award definitely goes to you.


Deb: A well deserved award, Phil! Hope you didn’t burn your hand while cooking and drop the F-bomb like Melissa Leo!

And speaking of bombs, how about that hosting job last night?  Wow. Reaching out to young people?  Please! Young people are not idiots and are not going to tune in unless they want to. I love both Anne Hathaway and James Franco, but dear God they were miscast in those roles. At least she seemed to be trying and wore some great dresses.

Anyway, what a lovely tradition you have, Barb, with Phil at the kitchen helm. My husband has also done this for many years (but not last night as we had just flown in from Vancouver and went to an Oscar party). He has in the past themed a course for every movie. Now that it is ten movies, he will just have to pick the most inspirational I guess.

But his finest moment is the year he did: “BENJAMIN BUTTON Mushroom Soup”, followed by “SLUMDOG MILLIONAIRE Mini Curry Burgers”, followed by “THE READER Potato Latkes”, followed by “MILK Fruit and Nuts Salad”, followed by “FROSTED NIXONS cake.”  Great taste and good laughs with each course. What more could you want?

So, for best achievement in an Oscar-themed evening, the winners are Colin and Phil. I ate my chocolate Oscar, but still have the memories!

The Cooking Club

Deb: I am not a member of the cooking club. I do have club privileges though because I married a cook. Which means I can use club equipment like the blender and the double boiler. But I don’t.

All my dearest friends are in the Cooking Club and I am treated to their wonderful culinary talents every time we meet. I LOVE IT! Every dish a mouth-watering masterpiece, and I always count myself lucky to have a regular seat at the trough. But sometimes, I confess, I feel left out. The club applicant whose credit rating didn’t quite measure up.

The girls in the club talk like Cooking Klingons spouting phrases like “sauté this” and “flambé that” and I nod and smile and double-check that the blade of the knife on the place setting I’m doing is correctly facing the dish. As I have said before, I know my way around a well-set table. And they appreciate it, make no mistake. They are all over me with the compliments about the centerpiece and my choice of flatware.

But I know that beneath the praise lays a pinch of pity. For although I love it, we all know that is all I can do. That, and chop––the lowliest of the bull-cook duties. Yet even when I am chopping, I can see them glancing over to make sure the veggies are the right width or that they are sliced on the correct slant. I start to panic and sweat, hoping against hope that the knife won’t slip out of my hand and slice the finger of this lowly chopper. So I finish my assigned duty and put the choppees into the bowl allotted to me and await my next instructions. I glance around to see the cooks laughing and talking about braised something with something sauce. They don’t even know I’m alive.

Is that a teaspoon on the table instead of a soupspoon? How could I have made such an obvious error? I rush to the table to fix the offending spoon. I am safe in my club. The Table Setting Club. Very exclusive. I am the only member.

Barbara: I think you won’t believe me, Deb, when I say: “I don’t pity you! This is envy all over my face! Those sidelong glances in your direction as you chop are not judgment, they are silent exhortations: Deb, for godssake, leave the food and get back to the beautifying! Sure, we want you to feel useful, but without your esthetic touch, the whole thing will be so … ordinary!”

As a self-professed member of the Cooking Club, I wish I had half your talent (and, frankly, patience) for a table-well-set. All that work in the chopping and braising and sautéing and, if it’s left to me, no lovely linens to set it off, no pretty posies of flowers or ornaments, no place cards, no elegance. I don’t even know where to begin. I hold aloft my platter of yummyness and stare at the barren table and sigh. Oh well. Maybe next time.

Deb sets not just a beautiful table but creates a spectacular environment. If it’s a special event, there is every known beautiful decoration known to man to adorn the occasion. Hell, you don’t even need to eat, it’s all so pretty.

But I will say this: I do love to cook. I love feeding people. I love the whole sensuous experience of it. And—Deb will vouch for me here—I LOOOOOOVE to eat. Beautiful table or not.