Skip to main content

Day 31: Easter and Sunday

We did A LOT of cooking today.  In addition to slightly-more-special-than-normal Sunday food, we also cooked several Indian dishes to eat during the week.  It was... a lot of time in the kitchen.  I'm glad that we'll have some flexibility this week with the food we've prepared.

Kielbasa Eggs Benedict
As a kid, Jeff ate kielbasa and eggs on Easter.  Today, we took it up a level as Eggs Benedict.  Again, the 63 degree eggs from the immersion circulator.  The beautiful thing about this is you can cook them ahead of time, and since they're still in the shell, put them in the fridge for later.  Then, when it comes time to eat, slip them out of the shell into warm water for a few minutes.

The kielbasa was sliced and crisped dark brown, and then Jeff fried the English Muffins in the pan drippings.  I steamed spinach in the microwave.  And it was finished off with our first ever attempt at hollandaise.  It turned out a little runnier than expected, but still delicious.  In our post-mortem, we took a look at other recipes, and the one we used had fewer eggs than typical.  I suspect that might've been it?

Accompanied by a cocktail of prosecco spiked with the grapefruit-anise syrup left from all those segments, and a lemon twist.  Perfect.

Herb Peel-Apart Bread
My friend Carla really loves this bread-- when we were just out of college, we would cook dinner together every Sunday night.  We called it "mom meals," and made sure that it was the one meal a week that had all its components: meat, veggie, starch, and, of course, a glass of milk.  This recipe is one from when I was a kid--more than once it featured in those Sunday Suppers.  I used to make this a lot when I was in my 20s, when potluck dinners were a common thing, because it was fancy-looking and I liked to impress.  I wrote about it here on the blog in 2010, with pictures of the assembly process.

The full recipe fills a bundt pan, but half of it is perfect for a standard loaf pan.  Tonight, I assembled it to the final proof, and took one half over to Carla to finish in her oven. Sunday supper together--at a distance.  I dare you to not eat half the loaf--warm from the oven, extra butter.  It's a safe bet that you'll love it.
A few modifications this time around: I only had active dry yeast, not instant.  So I let the two packs of yeast sit in 1/4 cup of the warm water and 1 Tbsp of the sugar until it was large and foamy.  Then added wet ingredients to dry and proceeded as normal.  And I had a little extra melted butter left, and so I lightly brushed it on top before popping in the oven, then sprinkled with flaky sea salt.  This was an innovation, and I'll definitely do it again!

Pork Tenderloin and Asparagus
I marinaded the tenderloin in grainy Dijon, honey, garlic, soy sauce, (edited to add: dried rosemary), and black pepper.  Asparagus was simply roasted on a sheet pan in olive oil, s&p.  And accompanied with a DC-made Anxo Cider. Tasty!

Honey Dijon Marinade (for pork or chicken)
  • 1/4 cup dijon mustard (I used a grainy one)
  • 2 Tbsp honey
  • 2 Tbsp soy sauce
  • 1 clove of minced garlic
  • 1/2 tsp dried rosemary, ground
  • A few big grinds of salt and black pepper
This made enough for a 1 lb tenderloin, and probably could've stretched even a little further.
Mushroom Curry
I'll save the links to the other dishes for the day we eat them, but as we surveyed what was available for the week, we found one lonely leftover that needed a face lift.  The mushroom and eggplant ragout from Day 19!  We had enough left that we weren't ready to just toss it, so it was time for an experiment.  The base flavors (garlic, onion, tomato) feature prominently in Indian curries, so why the heck not?

I heated a couple of Tbsp ghee in a pan, then tossed in a bunch of black mustard seed, swirling until they popped.  Then added in curry leaves, swirled some more.  Cumin seeds.  A bit of fresh diced onion, more garlic, and some ginger.  Cooked until the onion was translucent.  Coriander powder, turmeric, garam masala, and cayenne.  Then, to the spicy, flavorful butter, added the ragout. Simmered for 20 minutes, then added a bit of reconstituted tamarind pulp for tang.  Sour, sweet, spicy, beautifully flavorful... down in the bottom left of our evening cooking spread.  I can't wait to eat it-- what a transformation for Act II!

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Constructivist Crap

Reading this post was like deja vu for me! I took a class just like this as an undergrad... (surprise, surprise) in the education department. I made it through that semester by taking solace in two facts: (a) I was also taking The Sociology of Education in the soc department, with a professor who actually taught the material and (b) most of us in my little liberal arts bubble wouldn't end up teachers, thus wouldn't have an opportunity to inflict such pedagogical torture on kids who needed to actually learn stuff. It would appear that Newoldschoolteacher has neither of those to help her out. God save her. The professor in my class repeatedly insisted that we were a "democratic classroom" and that she wasn't any more of an expert on the material than us. WHAT? I paid good money for that course, money that employed her to teach me. I hope that she was more expert on the material than I was! Also, when I "took responsibility for myself" and said that ...

Privilege of Being

Robert Hass Many are making love. Up above, the angels in the unshaken ether and crystal of human longing are braiding one another's hair, which is strawberry blond and the texture of cold rivers. They glance down from time to time at the awkward ecstasy-- it must look to them like featherless birds splashing in the spring puddle of a bed-- and then one woman, she is about to come, peels back the man's shut eyelids and says, look at me, and he does. Or is it the man tugging the curtain rope in that dark theater? Anyway, they do, they look at each other; two beings with evolved eyes, rapacious, startled, connected at the belly in an unbelievably sweet lubricious glue, stare at each other, and the angels are desolate. They hate it. They shudder pathetically like lithographs of Victorian beggars with perfect features and alabaster skin hawking rags in the lewd alleys of the novel. All of creation is offended by this distress. It is like the keening sound the moon makes sometimes, ...

Singing Metro Man

This morning on the Orange Line train to work, Singing Metro Man made an appearance. If you ride the Orange or the Blue Line, you may know of him...I’ve heard from other passengers that he’s been around for years, though I can only confirm the last three. He’s an elderly Asian gentleman, well-dressed, who steps onto the train right before the doors close. Once the train begins to move, he clears his throat, says a polite but insistent “Excuse me,” and begins to sing a hymn from his songbook. The effect is eerie. The silent morning train, everyone still half-asleep before their first cup of coffee. The whoosh of the tunnel. The man’s gentle, earnest voice singing a capella (he’s not half bad) about how we should trust in Jesus. As he reached his crescendo this morning, I half expected the train to explode or something—the moment just felt very... cinematic. Luckily, life is not a movie, and after the song was done, he wished us all a good day, exited the train and moved to the n...