I won the chili contest. I will admit that I was pretty surprised. One person made a mole sauce as her base, another used corn and other concoctions... 9 contestants total. I came out on top with 4 whoppin votes. Which is not that many, considering there were like 25 people in the room. But a few of them didn't vote (including myself - because if I had I would have had 5 votes. I'm not afraid to vote for myself. It was good food).
So what they didn't tell us before this whole thing started was that we have to take our ingredients to the site and make the chili there. I'm not sure how I feel about that. I don't cook well under pressure and I don't want all these people coming up asking how things are going. It might be fun, though. And if I win? WOO HOO! You'll never hear the end of it.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Chili, Part II (subtitle: Hell hath no fury)
I make darn good chili. I honestly think that this stuff could win. It feels good in the mouth - the different meats give it texture and flavor, and you can taste the "southwest" - cumin, cilantro, oregano. Then, you swallow, and BAM! The heat rises fast and urgent in the back of the throat, sits for a minute, and then gently fades. It rules.
The problem is that I didn't measure most of the herbs. I just kind of... put them in. So I'll need to remember what everything looked like should I need to make it once again for the final competition (for Junior Achievement).
The picture is slightly deceiving. I did not make the chili in the slow cooker. It's only being used as a warming carafe until this afternoon. Although, undoubtedly, the chili will taste better then since it's had all morning to meld.
Recipe:
Chop 1 and a 1/2 red onions and 1 head of garlic very fine. Set aside.
Brown 8 oz. of medium-heat pork sausage in 2 Tbl. corn oil in a large saute pan(I used one with straight edges). Drain and set aside.
Split 3 lb. of stew meat into 1/3 and 2/3. Cut 1/3 into small, bite size pieces. Grind the other until almost hamburger, removing any large fatty or gristle pieces (I used my food processor for this). Brown all meat in 2 Tbl corn oil. Drain and set aside.
Finely chop 2 strips of thick cut bacon and cook in same skillet until brown. Remove but reserve grease in the pan. Add in onion and garlic, stirring frequently until onions are cooked through. Move onion/garlic mixture into your chili pot.
Deglaze your pan with Patron. Do not partake if you are making the chili before 12pm.
Process bacon until crumbled. Add all meats into the chili pot. Add in one box of beef broth (Swanson's low-sodium), one large can of tomato sauce and one large can of pureed tomatoes (yes, there is a difference). Stir and bring to a boil.
Using your food processor with blade, chop finely 2 jalapeno and 2 arbol peppers, with seeds. Keep your hands and eyes away from the finished product. Add to chili pot and reduce the chili to a simmer for about an hour.
Tip: when you are ready for the next step, pull the lid off toward you so that you shield your face from both the steam and the "heat".
Add 3 heaping tablespoons of cumin; 2 tablespoons of dried cilantro; 2 tablespoons of dried oregano, 2 tablespoons of chili powder, and a heavy dash of red pepper flakes. Stir in thoroughly. Insert three bay leaves around the pot, replace the lid, and simmer for at least 1/2 hour more.
Remove the lid and add 2 Tablespoons of brown sugar and the juice of one lime. Salt to taste.
Chili, Part I
I promise you that this will not become a food blog. There are many excellent food blogs (read: people who do nothing but cook, eat and type) out there. I don't cook enough to be one of those people. Honestly, we eat Chef B at least 3 days a week.
Today, however, is the chili contest at work. Woo Hoo! I love chili. Well, at least, I love my mother's version of chili. When I was a child, my sisters and I got to eat whatever we wanted on our birthdays. It was the one day a year that we got to pick the meal. My middle sister always picked lasagna (what she considers lasagna; she hates ricotta cheese). My youngest sister picked hot dogs and macaroni cheese or pizza. She still picks it, actually, nearly every day.
I, on the other hand, had a much more refined palate. Corn dogs and chili. Yep, you read it right. I LOVE corn dogs. Don't ask me why, but I've never been a fan of the white bun. Fair corn dogs are the best because the cornbread is nice and crispy and the dog is nice a steamy. When I was a kid, I'd squirt ketchup on my plate in a big pile and then I'd put mustard on top and mix it around like I was Degas. Now, I eat them plain.
I don't have my mother's recipe for chili. I know that she used tomato sauce that she canned during the summer, as well as kidney beans and meat and a few other goodies. I hated canning season, and for the longest time, tomatoes: the kitchen always smelled like a tomato exploded (and, if the burner was left too high, it usually had). My aunt would give us a bushel of tomatoes and my mother would blanch them and peel them and then pulverize them through her old-fashioned, hand-operated meat grinder. That was the fun part: watching the big, juicy tomatoes go in and a mess of seeds and juice and tomato meat come out. Mom made spaghetti sauce and tomato sauce (there may not have been a difference) and salsa, and we ate it all throughout the winter in various forms. One year she burned the spaghetti sauce . And we at it all throughout the winter in various forms. That was a bad winter.
So now it is 4:51am EST and I am without my mother's chili recipe. Which may not be a bad thing since this is supposed to be "professional chili" without beans (do real people eat chili without beans, seriously?). I've scoured the internet for decent chili recipes and then manipulated them to be my own, based on the ingredients that I can work with and have available (we are shopping at Winn Dixie, not Fresh Market).
Part I is complete and simmering on the stove for a couple of hours. Once it has simmered I'll add in the rest of the ingredients. At least, that is the plan. If it turns out good you can have the recipe.
Today, however, is the chili contest at work. Woo Hoo! I love chili. Well, at least, I love my mother's version of chili. When I was a child, my sisters and I got to eat whatever we wanted on our birthdays. It was the one day a year that we got to pick the meal. My middle sister always picked lasagna (what she considers lasagna; she hates ricotta cheese). My youngest sister picked hot dogs and macaroni cheese or pizza. She still picks it, actually, nearly every day.
I, on the other hand, had a much more refined palate. Corn dogs and chili. Yep, you read it right. I LOVE corn dogs. Don't ask me why, but I've never been a fan of the white bun. Fair corn dogs are the best because the cornbread is nice and crispy and the dog is nice a steamy. When I was a kid, I'd squirt ketchup on my plate in a big pile and then I'd put mustard on top and mix it around like I was Degas. Now, I eat them plain.
I don't have my mother's recipe for chili. I know that she used tomato sauce that she canned during the summer, as well as kidney beans and meat and a few other goodies. I hated canning season, and for the longest time, tomatoes: the kitchen always smelled like a tomato exploded (and, if the burner was left too high, it usually had). My aunt would give us a bushel of tomatoes and my mother would blanch them and peel them and then pulverize them through her old-fashioned, hand-operated meat grinder. That was the fun part: watching the big, juicy tomatoes go in and a mess of seeds and juice and tomato meat come out. Mom made spaghetti sauce and tomato sauce (there may not have been a difference) and salsa, and we ate it all throughout the winter in various forms. One year she burned the spaghetti sauce . And we at it all throughout the winter in various forms. That was a bad winter.
So now it is 4:51am EST and I am without my mother's chili recipe. Which may not be a bad thing since this is supposed to be "professional chili" without beans (do real people eat chili without beans, seriously?). I've scoured the internet for decent chili recipes and then manipulated them to be my own, based on the ingredients that I can work with and have available (we are shopping at Winn Dixie, not Fresh Market).
Part I is complete and simmering on the stove for a couple of hours. Once it has simmered I'll add in the rest of the ingredients. At least, that is the plan. If it turns out good you can have the recipe.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Mobile Tiramisu, On Making
Background: DH is determined to get me on the motorcycle. Alone. Driving. This is kind of scary, since my leg is barely strong enough to keep me upright, let alone upright on a 1100cc engine (it's a beasty). I was successful last week driving from the mailbox to the stop sign - about 100 feet - but then konked the battery because I kept trying to start it in second gear. The next night I panicked and the bike fell over. After that, DH decided I needed to learn how to drive a stick shift to "get a feel for the clutch" before getting back on the bike. Do we own a manual shift vehicle? No. So he calls his mother and asks if we can use their truck. And then she invites us to dinner. Wanting neither to have my husband nor his mother to be my Driver's Ed teachers, I of course suggested that we will bring dessert.
Saturday Night: My high school reunion was last night, but my two best friends from high school and I decided to have an un-reunion instead, and stayed up past midnight chatting and reminiscing and watching Food Network together. Awesome.
Sunday Morning: We wake up at a leisurely 9ish am and begin to get ready. Five minutes before we are out the door, I realize I didn't make chocolate cake like I'd planned. So, I grabbed a few items and we headed out the door.
We stop at Publix and pick up a few additional items. Plus I got a little sieve and a spatula because I've wanted both for some time and this was the perfect opportunity. I begged DH since "I had to have them to make this dessert".
DH stopped to get his cup of coffee, and bought me a cup as well. Black, no sugar.
I put as many ladyfingers as would fit in the container, and poured coffee all over them. And myself. It burned my leg.
After that, I relaxed until we got about 20 minutes from his mother's house. Then, I took the ladyfingers out of the container and put them on the serving tray.
I dumped the Marscapone cheese (both tubs) and a mound of powdered sugar into the mixing bowl. I used the whip (which was not the right kind but it's the only one I own) to mix it together. If I'd be thinking, I would have added a bit of cinnamon at this point, but I was kind of panicking since we were getting close to her house and DH kept swerving while he tried to watch me.
The next part looks much trickier than it appears in the pictures. DH held the bowl with one hand and drove with the other. (For those of you playing along, please don't comment on how dangerous this was. I know, I was there.) I spread the mixture on the lady fingers. Then, we put another group of fingers in coffee, put them on top of the first layer, and then added the second layer of cheese mixture. At this point, I had cheese and powdered sugar on the seat, the center console, my shirt, my pants, etc. I used the cocoa and dusted the top. What you don't see is us stopping at Walgreen's to get me another shirt to wear and some cleaning wipes. I hid the evidence of the auto-kitchenry while DH was paying for our last minute goods.
And that is how to make mobile tiramisu. And yes, I did more or less learn how to drive a stick shift. I drove all around the Volusia County Fairgrounds and then drove the truck back to the house. DH only almost had a heart attack once. And yes, the tiramisu was pretty good. And now, only you know our secret.
Saturday Night: My high school reunion was last night, but my two best friends from high school and I decided to have an un-reunion instead, and stayed up past midnight chatting and reminiscing and watching Food Network together. Awesome.
Sunday Morning: We wake up at a leisurely 9ish am and begin to get ready. Five minutes before we are out the door, I realize I didn't make chocolate cake like I'd planned. So, I grabbed a few items and we headed out the door.
We stop at Publix and pick up a few additional items. Plus I got a little sieve and a spatula because I've wanted both for some time and this was the perfect opportunity. I begged DH since "I had to have them to make this dessert".
DH stopped to get his cup of coffee, and bought me a cup as well. Black, no sugar.
I put as many ladyfingers as would fit in the container, and poured coffee all over them. And myself. It burned my leg.
After that, I relaxed until we got about 20 minutes from his mother's house. Then, I took the ladyfingers out of the container and put them on the serving tray.
I dumped the Marscapone cheese (both tubs) and a mound of powdered sugar into the mixing bowl. I used the whip (which was not the right kind but it's the only one I own) to mix it together. If I'd be thinking, I would have added a bit of cinnamon at this point, but I was kind of panicking since we were getting close to her house and DH kept swerving while he tried to watch me.
The next part looks much trickier than it appears in the pictures. DH held the bowl with one hand and drove with the other. (For those of you playing along, please don't comment on how dangerous this was. I know, I was there.) I spread the mixture on the lady fingers. Then, we put another group of fingers in coffee, put them on top of the first layer, and then added the second layer of cheese mixture. At this point, I had cheese and powdered sugar on the seat, the center console, my shirt, my pants, etc. I used the cocoa and dusted the top. What you don't see is us stopping at Walgreen's to get me another shirt to wear and some cleaning wipes. I hid the evidence of the auto-kitchenry while DH was paying for our last minute goods.
And that is how to make mobile tiramisu. And yes, I did more or less learn how to drive a stick shift. I drove all around the Volusia County Fairgrounds and then drove the truck back to the house. DH only almost had a heart attack once. And yes, the tiramisu was pretty good. And now, only you know our secret.
Saturday, September 27, 2008
New Toys
So DHL is my new best friend because they delivered our new laptop and digital camera today. Granted, I was wearing a quilt because today was my token "lazy day", but the DHL guy didn't seem to mind.
I love new toys. I love adding and customizing and making things perfect. I love the way the keys sound when you touch them (before all of the crumbs and dust get in and soften things up). I love that it runs fast and starts fast. I love just trying stuff out. Vista is not so bad. So far.
I love new toys. I love adding and customizing and making things perfect. I love the way the keys sound when you touch them (before all of the crumbs and dust get in and soften things up). I love that it runs fast and starts fast. I love just trying stuff out. Vista is not so bad. So far.
What I Love About Facebook
It is, at first, a little scary. Will any of these people remember me? What kind of information can I put in this profile without getting fired? Do I add every picture I take at every event or just a choice few that show my best profile? Does having hundreds of friends make me look popular or desperate in an online environment? Do I really have to accept every 'Lil Green Plant or can I claim that my online nursery is full?
However, I've grown a bit fond of Facebook. I like seeing what folks are doing in their own parts of the universe. And since there's no way I'm leaving Florida to attend my 10 year high school reunion (crap, I'm old), I can at least keep up with a few of the folks from there. It's a pleasant distance, in a way - a shiny layer of friendliness and reminiscing without actually having to BE there. Awkward.
One of my favorite pastimes in Facebook - when I am tired of playing Spider Solitaire and it's too early for Second Life or cleaning my house or shopping or whatever else I can do in a day - is looking at other people's friends. Usually, I find someone I know and like and that is kind of a score for me. Other times, though - and this is even better - I find people that I know and I didn't like. Or, loathed. That happened today.... I came across a mortal enemy from college. Of course, it's been like 5 years since we parted ways, but that annoying little face shined up at me like a greasy zit on a big day. Ugh. But you know what I got to do? Nothing! I chose NOT to friend him. That's right. We're not friends! The POWER!
Of course, karma.... I have lots of pending friend requests. I'd like to think that folks just don't log in as much as I do. But maybe I'm the zit.
However, I've grown a bit fond of Facebook. I like seeing what folks are doing in their own parts of the universe. And since there's no way I'm leaving Florida to attend my 10 year high school reunion (crap, I'm old), I can at least keep up with a few of the folks from there. It's a pleasant distance, in a way - a shiny layer of friendliness and reminiscing without actually having to BE there. Awkward.
One of my favorite pastimes in Facebook - when I am tired of playing Spider Solitaire and it's too early for Second Life or cleaning my house or shopping or whatever else I can do in a day - is looking at other people's friends. Usually, I find someone I know and like and that is kind of a score for me. Other times, though - and this is even better - I find people that I know and I didn't like. Or, loathed. That happened today.... I came across a mortal enemy from college. Of course, it's been like 5 years since we parted ways, but that annoying little face shined up at me like a greasy zit on a big day. Ugh. But you know what I got to do? Nothing! I chose NOT to friend him. That's right. We're not friends! The POWER!
Of course, karma.... I have lots of pending friend requests. I'd like to think that folks just don't log in as much as I do. But maybe I'm the zit.
Saturday, September 20, 2008
Greetings
So I'm cleaning up before our shindig tomorrow and I thought it would be wise to put our address labels and stamps in the container with my cards. I keep a small stash of thank you cards for when I feel polite.
The box looked somewhat overflowing, so I took everything out to sort through. It turns out that I need to buy stock in Hallmark. I have no less than 8 Mother's day cards, 1 Mother's Day card for my grandma (sorry Grandma), 3 birthday cards, 2 "congratulations you made an Urchin" cards, along with dozens of various thank you notecards. I don't even know two mothers who made urchins. Only one. And I don't think I have her address.
The box looked somewhat overflowing, so I took everything out to sort through. It turns out that I need to buy stock in Hallmark. I have no less than 8 Mother's day cards, 1 Mother's Day card for my grandma (sorry Grandma), 3 birthday cards, 2 "congratulations you made an Urchin" cards, along with dozens of various thank you notecards. I don't even know two mothers who made urchins. Only one. And I don't think I have her address.
Friday, September 19, 2008
The Purse: a Sign of Coming of Age
Yesterday, I turned 28. Neither old nor young. I have aches and pains and zits. I am a cook and a maid and a librarian and an executive. A friend and a sister and a daughter (I hope a very good daughter). And a wife. And a lover, occasionally, when the aches and pains and zits don't get in the way.
I am a fan of birthdays. There were days and months and even a year or so that I didn't plan on having more of them. Life is precious and change is constant and we should all take a minimum of one day a year to celebrate us, a gift from God.
So how did I celebrate? Well, I got birthday cards, which I love. And DH bought me a new wallet because mine was all faded. I like the color of the new one better than the old one. And my friend Beth bought me a cookbook (I adore any cookbook that has stories connected to the recipes - because a recipe without a story is just a list of ingredients). And then DH took me out to dinner and to JC Penney for a new purse.
I've only recently become educated in the way of purses. They are just about as diverse as shoes in color, pattern, shape, construction, size, etc. A purse is not just a purse - it is a satchel, a tote, a hobo, a handbag. For ages I've carried a small purse because I don't like much fuss. I needed a wallet, a place for my cell phone, and a place for keys.
Now, though, I'm growing up. And I see the advantage of carrying a pen (or two because I always lose one), tissues, lipstick, pressed powder, a nail file, gum, tic tacs, hand sanitizer, etc. etc. I'm a walking canteen for the feminine persuasion (and you boys out there reading this.. you know darn well that you ask for stuff from us females all the time). In fact, DH and I had a fun time "filling" the new purse last night with various sundries.
I wonder if I'm carrying everything I need. Or, if I have too much. I tried to search the web this morning for "what women carry in purses" and came up with very few relevant results. Is there a definitive lists of must-haves? In addition to what I've listed above I also have a notebook, Tylenol and feminine sundries.
Your thoughts? Gentleman, what should we carry for you, since you don't like having bulky pockets?
I am a fan of birthdays. There were days and months and even a year or so that I didn't plan on having more of them. Life is precious and change is constant and we should all take a minimum of one day a year to celebrate us, a gift from God.
So how did I celebrate? Well, I got birthday cards, which I love. And DH bought me a new wallet because mine was all faded. I like the color of the new one better than the old one. And my friend Beth bought me a cookbook (I adore any cookbook that has stories connected to the recipes - because a recipe without a story is just a list of ingredients). And then DH took me out to dinner and to JC Penney for a new purse.
I've only recently become educated in the way of purses. They are just about as diverse as shoes in color, pattern, shape, construction, size, etc. A purse is not just a purse - it is a satchel, a tote, a hobo, a handbag. For ages I've carried a small purse because I don't like much fuss. I needed a wallet, a place for my cell phone, and a place for keys.
Now, though, I'm growing up. And I see the advantage of carrying a pen (or two because I always lose one), tissues, lipstick, pressed powder, a nail file, gum, tic tacs, hand sanitizer, etc. etc. I'm a walking canteen for the feminine persuasion (and you boys out there reading this.. you know darn well that you ask for stuff from us females all the time). In fact, DH and I had a fun time "filling" the new purse last night with various sundries.
I wonder if I'm carrying everything I need. Or, if I have too much. I tried to search the web this morning for "what women carry in purses" and came up with very few relevant results. Is there a definitive lists of must-haves? In addition to what I've listed above I also have a notebook, Tylenol and feminine sundries.
Your thoughts? Gentleman, what should we carry for you, since you don't like having bulky pockets?
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Today, I Love Southwest
It's 5:00 am. No one should be up this early. It's amazing how the airport is waking up. The skycap was cheerful but a little sleepy; lights were just coming on in various rooms off of the main walkway; as I type, the coffee bar behind me is just beginning to smell like fresh roast.
I'm sort of fearful about this flight. I try to limit walking whenever possible, so the idea of walking across two airports (let alone the work that we are about to do over the next 3 days) is discomforting. However, once I got to the airport, the Southwest staff put my mind completely at ease. I was almost immediately put into a wheelchair, and a very nice young man (young.. my age.. if I am young) wheeled me through the entire airport, including security. He even helped me get my shoes off to go through the detector. He was friendly without being overly talkative. He wheeled me straight to the gate door. I can only pray that the service is comparable at Midway.
I'm sort of fearful about this flight. I try to limit walking whenever possible, so the idea of walking across two airports (let alone the work that we are about to do over the next 3 days) is discomforting. However, once I got to the airport, the Southwest staff put my mind completely at ease. I was almost immediately put into a wheelchair, and a very nice young man (young.. my age.. if I am young) wheeled me through the entire airport, including security. He even helped me get my shoes off to go through the detector. He was friendly without being overly talkative. He wheeled me straight to the gate door. I can only pray that the service is comparable at Midway.
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