it wasn't easy at first. especially in that first week, when they wanted me to taste everything so i could start to learn the menu (the first day, when i was filling up a to-go box of food to take home, i basically pulled a "hey, what's that over there??" and when everyone looked away i closed up the box, sans meat, and quickly ambled to the exit). since i was new and only prepping for the first month, it wasn't completely necessary to taste all the meat. learning to cook all the food for the menu was surprisingly pretty easy...coming to terms with deliberately tasting your first piece of meat in thirteen years is where the rocket science comes in. the panic only lasted for half a second (.0003 dog years), and i think the kitchen manager, an old friend who by that point had found out about my no meat deal, was more hesitant than i was. it came down to me wanting more than ever to be a good cook, and if that meant M the vegetarian getting second chair trumpet, then so be it. i like to tell people that i've been bought--"they're PAYING me to eat meat!"
the strange thing that has happened, however, is that i've become kind of verrry interested in cooking meat at home. i don't know if it's (1)because of the chemistry of it (something i read about and will probably never really understand because science hates my brain), that (2)i'm preparing myself for my next cooking job (when they ask "have you cooked this before?" i want to be able to shout "duh of course i have, what do you think i'm some kinda idiot??!"), or (3)that everyone around me eats meat and most of them know at least a little bit about cooking it, and i'm just trying to catch up. i have a sneaking suspicion it's bachelor number three.
so for awhile now i've been cooking my little heart out, every week trying to make protein-centered dinners for E and D(boyfriend). i had a small sad moment some time last week when i realized that i had managed to make dinner for everyone else, and had forgotten, once again, to make something that I wanted to eat. it seems like it's been FOREVER since i have cooked for myself. seriously, like 2 dog years. a COON's age. i also feel like i haven't baked something worthy of being proud of for awhile. i'll make something chocolate every week just so D doesn't whine about not having dessert with his bag lunch, but it hasn't been something i love for...1/3 of a dog year. i'm envious that E craves something so hard that she makes it and then gobbles it up, where i've become accustomed to eating chunks of bread and cheese. that's not a complaint, mind y'all, but that sort of diet has turned my work amble into sort of a waddle. vegetables are missed.
scouring the worldwide online intraweb last week, i settled on a few things i wanted to try. surprisingly, it was harder than i thought. i felt like a snob artist turning my nose up at my muse--no inspiration whatsoever. eventually i was won over by the promise of fava beans and basmati rice. i made such a dish last night for the olympic opening ceremonies, while D and his brother got a cute, crusty chicken pot pie (i couldn't help myself!). alas, because E and i are suffering succotash from headcolds this week, the fava bean deal was pretty good, but i'd put in too many spices because of my clogged tastebuds. nothing to write home (or on a blog) aboot.<--holy canadian reference! olympics, anyone???
i've been focusing all week on cooking for myself, and having others partake. i was also inspired by a slam dunk (olympics!! ...ok, summer olympics...) lunch i had at one of my FAVORITE PLACES EVER to visit, the 318 cafe in excelsior. quite a hike, but the staff and grub are soo worth it. case in point: two o'clock in the afternoon, Tom, one of the proprietors says "M, what can i get for you? glass of wine?" i was floored. what a genius! why hadn't i thought of having a glass of wine with lunch ever? it was my day off, so OF COURSE i had the glass of wine. i told him to bring me a red he liked, and he chose a spicy malbec. winner chicken dinner!
relaxed, i was buzzy from wine and shop talk (Tom's other place, the Green Room, in waconia, has unjustly closed), and asked for their pear tarte tatin for dessert. as Tom came back to clear my licked-clean dessert plate, the only word i could manage was "anotherrrr..!" small slices of d'anjou pears with their tender skins left on were deeply, DEEPly caramelized with a sweet, burnt-sugary, buttery sauce pooling around the flaky crust. somehow, they had managed to produce a pretty fluted edge to the crust, even though that part is baked upside-down. two slices of the tart PLUS lunch PLUS that beautiful daytime glass of wine, and i was coma-style drooling from happiness.
two things i made this last week that i'm willing to share were a pear tarte tatin, and a simple flatbread i made for myself when i got home just to stave off my appetite when i was getting ready to cook. it turned out to be the week's winner, and it's plum-easy: just grab whatever flat, bready thing you like (mine = two slices of sourdough), and melt fresh mozzerella cheese (in my case, some GORGEOUS Comte-->see post #1), and then put toasted pine nuts and arugula on top. it's an herby, nutty, meltingly easypeasy flatbread (and vegetarian!)
here's the pear tarte tatin, as well:
Pear Tarte Tatin
Adapted from Orangette
5-6 large d'anjou pears (i used red and green ones)
Juice and zest of one lemon
1 1/2 cups sugar
6 T. butter, divided
1 sheet of puff pastry
Peel and quarter the pears, removing the cores such that each quarter has a flat inner side. Toss the pear quarters in a large bowl with the lemon juice, lemon zest, and ½ cup of the sugar. Set aside for 30 minutes.
In a skillet (mine's 12 inches) set over medium heat, melt 4 (or 6, if you're me), tablespoons of the butter. Add the remaining 1 cup sugar, along with a few tablespoons of the apple-lemon juices. Stir to mix. Cook the mixture over medium-low heat, stirring regularly with a wooden spoon, for about 15 minutes, or until the mixture is a smooth, bubbly, pale caramel color.
Remove the pan from the heat and carefully add pear quarters, arranging them rounded-side-down in a decorative pattern. Arrange a second layer of pears on top wherever they fit. Top the pears with the remaining 2 tablespoons of butter (or more!), cut into dice.
Preheat the oven to 375 degrees Fahrenheit.
Cook the pears over medium-low heat for about 20 minutes, occasionally spooning the bubbling caramel liquid over them. Shift the pan as necessary so that the pears cook evenly. They are ready when the liquid in the pan has turned to a thick, amber ooze. The pears should still be slightly firm. Do not allow them to get entirely soft or the liquid to turn dark brown. Remove the pan from the heat.
On a floured surface, roll the puff pastry out to a thickness of about 3/16 inch. Using a sharp, thin knife, trace a circle in the pastry about 1/2 inch wider all around than the skillet, and trim away any excess. Carefully lay the pastry circle over the apples in the skillet, tucking the overlap down between the apples and the inside of the pan.
Place the skillet on a rimmed baking sheet, and bake for about 30-35 minutes, until the pastry has risen, and is dry and golden brown. Remove the skillet from the oven, and let it to rest for a minute or two. Tilt the pan and look down inside the edge: if there is a lot of juice, pour most of it off into a bowl, and eat it like it's soup, when really it's a bowl of hot buttery caramel sauce. [Do not pour it all off, or the apples may stick to the pan.] Place a serving platter upside-down over the skillet and, working quickly and carefully (it’s hot!), invert the tart onto the platter. Rearrange any pear slices that may have slipped or stuck to the skillet.
mine turned out a little less burnt-sugary than i'd like, only because i pulled it early from the oven, afraid of it burning. be fearless, let it caramelize, pour a glass of malbec. them's the orders.
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