Category: Cooking

Cooking, Reviews, Vintage chicks lol

Enlightened by “High on the Hog”

Vintage Chicks lol

I always told people I was raised on southern cooking, meaning the foods cooked by my parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles. I was so wrong. Turns out, I was raised on African food.

Both of my parents were born and raised in Arkansas, but my mom migrated north with her father and siblings to find work in 1950. My Dad — her boyfriend at the time — wasn’t one to give up and soon followed. They married in Fort Wayne, Indiana, and had me, the first of nine, in 1952.

Foods like okra, watermelon, pinto beans, cornbread and fried chicken, as well as all kinds of greens (with just a drizzle of hot pepper juice), were daily fare in our household. My Dad also ate souse and pickled pig’s feet and loved to “ooh” and “ahh” and eat ever-so-slowly while my brothers and I gathered around to stare in disgust at the meats and yell “Eww!” at every bite.

Recently, my sister-in-law told me that I would enjoy a show on Netflix called “High on the Hog,” and that it would change everything I ever thought about so-called “southern foods.” She’s a teacher and her recommendations — books and movies — are always top-notch, so I heeded her advice.

Just minutes into the first of four episodes, I was overcome with emotion and reaching for a tissue.

Sorrow. Injustice. Powerful. Inspiring. Enthralling.

Narrated by chef and writer Stephen Satterfield, the docuseries tells the story of America through delightful and delicious cuisine, starting in Africa and moving on to New York City, Philadelphia, Virginia and Texas. Based on Jessica B. Harris’ award-winning book, “High On The Hog,” it’s a story of the courage, genius, inspiration and resourcefulness of the African American people.

As the “Because of Them We Can” website puts it, “It is a cultural exploration that fuses food, history and travel to explore and celebrate the nuanced history behind African food and its contribution to America.”

One thing’s for sure — our nation would not be near as great as it is without Black culture. Thank you, Jessica B. Harris, Stephen Satterfield and the entire cast for enlightening this aged product of Southerners.

Cooking, Coronavirus, Vintage chicks lol

ButterNutting My Way to Pandemic Cuisine

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How bored and anxiety-ridden am I? Enough to turn French.

 le freak; le maniaque; le sot.

My attempt at growing butternut squash is shown in the middle. My baby is flanked by the giant, mutant GMO squash on either side.

My son gave me the last of his fall harvest — two mutantly large (oh yes, those GMOs) butternut squash — and I decided to make butternut squash soup, for the first time in my looooong life (aged 20 years in 2020 alone).

It was simple, I guess, but peeling two butternut squash the size of Volkswagens is akin to finding head lice on Rapunzel.

However, once I had that out of the way, I was full throttle to the Ultimate French Cuisine Snobby Pandemic Chef From Hell.

I decided to make crème fraîche (pronounced kram fresh-ha) and toasted pepitas as a decadent topping for the decadent full-fat creamy butternut soup. That extra COVID+19 around my waistline was not attained by munching celery and sipping lemon water.

Those two mutant squashes yielded SIX(!) freezer bags of future French cuisine — or freezer frost, depending on my mood.

Since I couldn’t find crème fraîche in the store (“Cream, right? Dairy aisle. Fresh ah, veggies? Produce aisle.”) , I decided to make it. Turns out adding 2 tablespoons of buttermilk to 2 cups of heavy whipping cream and letting it set for 8-24 hours renders a delightfully thick luscious type of French cream. Je suis très impressionné!

I cooked the cubed squash with chopped onion, apple, celery, carrots, garlic, veggie broth and salt and pepper until soft, blended it all in the blender (one small batch at a time) and poured it into bowls. Topped with a dollop of salted, roasted pepitas (come on — regular ole’ pumpkin seeds! Aldis —under $2 a bag!), fresh, chopped parsley and crème fraîche — and voila! A masterpiece!

For no one.

Bon appétit!

Just me. Always me. I have NEVER been so sick of me.

Well. there’s also my husband, who is also sick of me and whom I run into once in a while in the hallway on weekends. Alas, he could not see the splendor of a perfectly blended and exquistitely-plated butternut bisque and magnificently executed crème fraîche when all he really wanted was a dozen smoky BBQ wings with steak fries.

I ate it all. Thus, I upgraded the COVID+19 to COVID+24.

Would I do it again? Geesh, it was a lot of work. But, during the pandemic when there’s a lot of me, me, me time, I might foray into that French cooking arena once again.

When this is all over, though? Pretty sure I’ll forget the soup and enjoy a mixing bowl of the crème fraîche and toasted pepitas for breakfast, lunch and dinner. grossir pendant la quarantaine.

Cooking, Vintage chicks lol

Which Came First? The Chicken, the Egg or the Salad?

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I’ve been trying to stick to a plant-based diet. I’m not a nut about it. I don’t go all psycho if I get asked if I want chicken on my salad. (I am the first to admit, chicken on a salad is pretty tasty.) I’m not a big meat eater, so it’s not a hardship to give it up. However — I gotta have my eggs. Cholesterol be damned. Here’s a photo of my fave salad. Everything but the kitchen sink. Oh yes, avocado. Always avocado.

My usual salad, sans eggs

The finished salad, topped with a fried egg, or two

I know what you’re thinking — fried eggs on a salad?! What the …

But trust me, it’s delicious. The yolk kind of melds with the dressing and, oooh, yummy.

I picked up this culinary practice after I attended a Woman’s Press Club of Indiana meeting two years ago at Traders Point Creamery in Zionville, just north of Indianapolis.

Traders Point Creamery is a 150-acre organic artisan creamery and restaurant with a working farm and restored barns. It offers a unique farm-to-table dining experience, inside or outside amid the beautiful gardens and countryside. The Loft Restaurant is located in an 1860s barn with hand-hewn beams and hand-carved wooden pegs. The Farm Store sells Traders Point organic cheeses and 100% grass-fed milks and yogurts. Two 1870s barns house the milking parlors, where the cows are milked twice a day.

It’s not just a place to eat, it’s a wonderful family excursion and experience.

Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, at our press luncheon, Julie — a friend and fellow club member — and I ordered salads. Julie was sipping her home-brewed ice tea and I was savoring my coffee with fresh, organic cream when our salads arrived — each topped with a fried egg. We looked at each other and raised our eyebrows.

“What the …?”

But we both dived it and later agreed it was a delicious addition. For dessert, everyone ordered the homemade, hand-scooped ice cream, which you can also get at the outdoor Dairy Bar if you’re eating outside. (The indoor Dairy Bar is closed due to COVID-19.)

According to its website and Facebook page, Tradespoint Creamery is open, but indoor and outdoor dining is operating at 50% capacity.

I hope to make the 2-hour trip again in the near future to share the farm restaurant experience with my grandchildren and show them how to order their salads sunny-side up.

Traders Point Creamery

Cooking

Sugar-Free, Gluten-Free Needn’t Be Taste-Free

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In addition to toilet paper, there’s a shortage of yeast —  apparently because there are a lot of people baking bread during this pandemic — what the … ?

It’s going to take something much more catastrophic than a deadly virus to terrorize me into baking a loaf of bread. The last time I baked bread was in fifth grade for my 4-H Fair Cooking Project. That’s some labor-intensive stuff right there, even if I did get a blue ribbon. Besides, I’m only 45 minutes from the Amish, and they sell freshly baked bread on the roadside. On the roadside! Cause that’s how they roll (pun intended).

If I’m cooking, it’s got to be simple, maybe five ingredients or less. I don’t eat a lot of carbs or meat or gluten or sugar. We won’t get into the weirdness of that right now. That’s a whole other blog.

The Significant Other eats it all: cows, carbs, pigs, sugar, gluten. Lots of gluten. Sometimes he tries one of my meals or snacks. Sometimes he likes it, and sometimes, not. As it should be. What I’m saying is you may not want a low-carb treat with no sugar or flour. That’s fine — this is ‘Merica. At least it was last time I checked the headlines.

I love peanut butter and can eat it with a spoon right out of the jar. Sometimes I don’t use a spoon. Here’s my fave 4-ingredient recipe for peanut butter cookies. As far as low carb, gluten-free, sugar-free and salt-free go (and can we just say white-killer-free?) this is a pretty tasty cookie. Proof: I have to hide them from the Gluten, Sugar Carnivore Eater.

PEANUT BUTTER COOKIES 

  • 1 cup natural peanut butter (I use Simple Truth no-stir, organic crunchy peanut butter from Kroger)
  • 1/2 cup Stevia or Swerve sugar (I have used both and kind of prefer the Swerve)
  • 1 large egg
  • 1/2 tsp vanilla

Preheat oven to 350°. Mix all ingredients until well combined. Using small spoon, scoop enough dough to roll into a 1″ ball in your hands. (Wait! Go back — wash your hands first!) 

Place balls on parchment-lined baking sheet. Press lightly on each one with a fork, creating a criss-cross. (I add a few chopped peanuts on top and lightly press them into the dough.)

Bake for 12 minutes and allow to cool completely before storing in an airtight container.

Bon appétit.