Salad: a love affair
May 9, 2011
I didn’t always love beer, and I didn’t always love salad. But now I love both. My love of beer developed gradually and I couldn’t really say when. However, I think I can’t pinpoint my first salad-loving incident to Vancouver, British Columbia, in November 2004.
My parents and I were about to embark on a group holiday tour across western Canada aboard the Rocky Mountaineer train. Sort of like the Orient Express—every bit as romantic (because when isn’t overnight train travel not romantic, even if you’re only with your parents) but quite a bit less famous.
The evening before we were to begin riding the rails, the group dined out at Canada Place on the Vancouver waterfront (pictured below). It was a fine dinner and I ate mine up. It was also the first time I can remember truly enjoying eating a salad. Maybe it’s because it was (perhaps) the first one I had that consisted of darkly colored “greens” rather than pale wedges of iceberg.
At any rate, I ate mine up, and dinner, and then noticed that a couple of my dinner neighbors had left theirs untouched. So I asked if they’d mind passing them over because it would be too bad if they went to waste. They were quite happy to. And I was in my first salad rapture.
Now that I think about it, it was roughly (give or take a couple of years) around the time of my beer awakening as well. I hadn’t gone hoppy yet but I had gone dark, and regularly enjoyed Newcastle with my buddies Jim and Rob whilst we shot pool at City Billiards and they flirted with Liz, our frequent server. At the first dinner for the tour group in Winnipeg, Manitoba, we ate a place with (as I recall) “grape” in the name and Fort Garry Dark Ale on the menu. At the time it sent me into my first beer rapture.
Now I realize I’m merging Canada group tours. The Winnipeg stop was prior to boarding the train up to Churchill to commune with polar bears. Salad in Vancouver was prior to the train heading back east across the Canadian Rockies.
But the point I was going to make was, I had discovered my enjoyment of getting tipsy by the time we were dining in Vancouver, and I know I was at least mediumly tipsy that night. The salad was really delicious and, due to my tipsiness, I was emboldening to beg more off my dining neighbors.
As with the beer, I don’t know when the absolute love took over. But I do know that it has and that if you give me a choice between a large salad and most other things, I will choose the salad. If it were between salad and pizza, I’d have a tough decision, but my current favorite meal is a rare steak and a giant salad. Nothing else (except the adult beverage), just the steak and the salad.
This past week I’ve been enjoying particularly delicious salads. My grocery store changed the way they make their deli roasted chickens for the better (saltier). One of the best ways to do the salad is to get the chicken for dinner one night, then use the leftovers for really tasty big salads that are a meal in themselves from then on. Finished with olive oil and either balsamic or raspberry vinegar, and you’ve got a winner.
Salad, salad, salad!
May 4, 2011
Zucchini porn, semi-literally
April 10, 2011
A while ago—maybe last summer or the summer before, or maybe the winter in between—my friend Jim who is fluent in sarcasm and snark, made a thusly-flavored comment disparaging the “dildo-sized” zucchinis that appear here in Minnesota grocery stores.
My esteemed work colleagues know that I am very impressionable. All it takes is a word or sometimes a mere syllable to pop a song into my head, which I then start whistling. Half the time I don’t even realize I’m doing it. And if I hear someone else in the office eating potato chips, well, you can bet that I’m suddenly craving some, too.
Way back in the recesses of my mind, I remember vague rumors from high school which involved a couple of female classmates and carrots and wieners.
So the zucchini-as-dildo comment stuck with me. I find it impossible to fondle them while making my selection without feeling a little bit dirty and a little bit self-conscious. I’m convinced that at least one person is watching me and questioning my motive as I pick them up one by one, choosing those that are similar in size and giving them a gentle squeeze to test for firmness, deciding yea or nay.
Of course, my end use of them is as pure as a petunia. I most often cut them in half the long way and broil them (or grill them, if it’s summer). Sometimes, I’ll make them the way my mom did when I was small, slicing them thinly and frying them in butter with pepper and finely chopped onion.
Today, they were part of the dinner pictured below, a celebration of this spring’s recent release of Bell’s Oberon Ale. It isn’t any better than when it’s paired with steak, especially if that steak is topped with sautéed mushrooms. Add the zucchini, some asparagus (this time with Hollandaise sauce, which I never do but it sounded good today), and a salad, and you’ve got one of my favorite meals.
It’s delicious enough to make me forget about the shame of shopping for the zucchini in the first place.
April 3, 2011
A bean theme
March 18, 2011
Due to my inability to arise in the morning with anything resembling extra time, I ended up eating beans in all three meals yesterday. I had originally planned on swinging over to Bruegger’s for an everything bagel, toasted, with plain cream cheese, but because I ended up (once again) catching the latest train that still gets me to work only three to five minutes late, that notion went out the window. Instead, I dashed up to the office, sat at my desk for a respectable fifteen minutes or so, and then ordered huevos rancheros from Esquina Mexican Eats, the excellent and pretty authentic restaurant on the first floor. It was then that I realized that with the 15 Bean Cajun Soup that I had brought for lunch, and the refried bean pizza thing that has become a mainstay of my suppers because it’s quick, easy, and inexpensive, I’d be eating beans for every meal. Huzzah!
I have no problem with this and neither do the people around me. I was going to explain why I think that is, but it turns out my hypothesis is misinformed. I will just leave it that I do not experience bean-induced toots. This is a good thing, because I do love beans and I completely appreciate that they are an easy way to boost my fiber intake. They are also cheap and versatile. The bag of 13 Bean Cajun Soup mix cost about $3 and made eight servings. Of course, I added a few other ingredients, but it’s still pretty inexpensive per serving.
The pizza thing I make for supper is just delicious. It allows me to indulge in my love of pizza in a much more healthful way. Onto a whole wheat tortilla, I spread 1/4 cup refried beans and a layer each of tomatillo, onion, and red bell pepper (or in this case, orange, because the reds didn’t look very good). I top it with 1-1/2 ounce pepperjack cheese and bake at 400°F for 18 minutes, and voilá, I have a delicious, fiberful meal.
There is one other tasty recipe that I’ll single out, and that’s the lentil soup that I invented at the beginning of the year when I was sick. I had stayed home from work and had to cope with the fact that I hadn’t gone to the grocery store over the weekend and had very little food in the house. I improvised with a few of the few things I had on hand and ended up with one of the best soups ever!
I like my lentils al dente. So I cooked 1 cup dry lentils for 15 minutes (bring to a boil, then simmer for 15 minutes, no more, no less, and drain, for the perfect lentil). After draining, I returned them to the pot with two cups of chicken broth (from bouillon) and one 14.5oz can of petite diced tomatoes with onion and peppers and the juice. Bring to a boil and serve over an ounce or two of diced fresh mozzarella cheese (you have to use mozzarella because it holds its shape when it melts; other varieties devolve into a gooey, shapeless blob of inconvenience). That’s it. It’s so good. The relative sweetness of the mozzarella perfectly offsets the savoriness of the lentils.
Below is a gallery of other yummy ways that I enjoy beans. Embrace the bean!
Amazing beer dinner with Summit Brewing
March 13, 2011
One of my favorite breweries, Summit, sponsored a fancy dinner at Bank Restaurant downtown last night. I’ve seen the notices about previous beer dinners. This time, the restaurant was along the linear mile and three quarters between my office and my home, and on a Friday. The announcement said that Summit founder Mark Stutrud would be there to host it. I eagerly anticipated adding to my collection of photos of me with the owners of my favorite breweries. What a perfect way to end the work week!
I made my reservation for one. When I arrived at the restaurant my worst suspicion was confirmed. I wouldn’t get to sit at a small, corner table by myself reveling in good beer and good food. No, I would have to join a large, round table with a bunch of people I didn’t know, which would undoubtedly involve talking to them. I sighed and accepted the first beer, Summit’s delicious India Pale Ale.
At this point, participants were standing around on the fringes of the seating area and bar. I had ended up between two groups, people who were obviously associated with the brewery, and civilians. Thankfully, the first of the hors d’oeuvres came around, the smoked kielbasa, red beet horseradish, and onion jam, daintily served on a funny spoon, followed by an oyster shooter, and fancy popcorn.
At this time, I should probably disclaim my overuse of the word fancy in this report.
A Summit Maibock, as well as Mark Stutrud, also came around during the hors d’oeuvres, and I made what was probably a bit of a gaffe by asking for his thoughts on the Minnesota liquor law changes that Surly Brewing is advocating. I got an earful of a different perspective. What a way to make a first impression on a person whose beer you love! Well, I’ve never claimed to be good at small talk.
Mark moved on, and I became aware that the brewery group was wondering about facts related to Japan’s earthquake and tsunami. I spend half my workday listening to world news, so I felt compelled to interject what I knew. I was only trying to be helpful. I ended up talking for a few minutes to Sue and Carrie.
The restaurant guy who was managing things indicated that it was time to have a seat for dinner. Sue didn’t hesitate to invite me to join their table which I gratefully did, and that was the action that ensured my having the best time I’ve in a while.
The delicious food arrived (as usual, my photographic documentation was thwarted by very low lighting). First was a fantastic scallop with bacon and some fancy, dribbled sauces. Mine was gigantic compared to the others which didn’t displease me, because I love scallops! It was served with Summit’s flagship Extra Pale Ale. That is hands down one of my favorite ever beers. Then came a fancy fried chicken puck (referring only to the shape, not the quality) with, among other things, Pop Rocks as part of the garnish, and served with cornbread and Maibock. The “main” course was a Red Ale braised lamb shank with barley and gravy, served with—you guessed it—Red Ale. For dessert, it was an oatmeal baking powder “coffee cake” served with ice cream made with Summit Porter and served with the same.
I so thank Sue and Carrie for being nice to me. You all know I would have been just fine lurking on the fringes keeping to myself. But it ended up being such a blast. Everyone around the table (clockwise from my left: Shawn (J.J. Taylor Distributing), Patty, Rollie, Mark, Sue, Carey, Katie, Tom (COO), and Dan) managed to engage me in conversation at least once. I think Shawn the distributor was getting annoyed with me because all the beers I was saying I liked weren’t ones he distributes, except for New Belgium Ranger IPA, one of my current favorites. I completely had a brain freeze about remembering how much I love Deschutes Hop Henge.
Anyway, I eventually figured out that Sue is Mark’s wife. I got my photo with Mark, and what I love about it is that we look like we’ve been friends forever. Well, I have been friends with his EPA for a long time. Oh! And Sue apparently went to highschool with Tony Magee, owner of Lagunitas and former sponser of my Monday bowling team. They were all engaging, but I could kind of check out when I needed to.
I think I will definitely try to go to the next Summit dinner, whenever that is.
I ate Robbin???s cousin for dinner
February 5, 2011
Today I shocked myself by doing something that I never in a million years thought I’d ever do.
Early in the day, Surly Brewing shared that the Ngon Vietnamese Bistro would be tapping a special edition cask of their Bender Ale that was made with vanilla bean. I thought that sounded like a delightful variation on a beer I like, and I’ve been reading good reviews of the restaurant for a long time.
I looked up Ngon’s menu and the word “rabbit” immediately jumped out at me, as in Crispy Rabbit Dumpling. My reflex was to huffily dismiss it as a place I’d never go on principle because they serve up fluffy bunny rabbits. But then I read the description: “Singer House Farms rabbit rolled in a crispy shell with herbs served with a sweet curry sauce & tomato basil confit.” To my horror and amazement I found myself thinking “that sounds really delicious!” I do like curry, after all.
All day long, I kept returning to the menu in fascination, spurred by the strong desire to go have some of that special Bender. Of course I could choose to eat something else, but Crispy Rabbit Dumpling continued to sound appealing.
As I thought about it, I thought why not? Maybe a dumpling would be the perfect way to satisfy my curiosity because it would be in a less recognizable form than, say, something that looked like my rabbit Robbin’s hind leg.
I went to Ngon (changing my previous notion about indulging in some Smack Shack lobster goodness for a Friday treat) and bravely ordered. The server asked me how it was and I gave her an honest answer—interesting, I’d never eaten rabbit before. Interesting in a good way? Well, I have a pet rabbit and this is just a little weird.
“Interesting” applied more to my conflicted emotions about the act of eating it, but in the end it went just fine. It tasted like it belongs in the dark poultry meat family. I’ve found that goat is kind of like that, too, though a little grainier. I have been getting more adventurous with my eating recently and if I am going to even loosely apply the term foodie to myself, I can’t be squeamish.
I was slightly disappointed with the Bender as I couldn’t taste any extra vanilla flavor in it.
I also had a small salad and Black Sesame Shrimp, both of which were tasty as well.
The lighting was very low, so these aren’t the best photos but you get the idea. I tried to throw a little more light on the plates with the table candle, and it wasn’t until I had been moving it around for a couple minutes that I realized it wasn’t even a real candle but a good fake that flickered and all.
Arteaga, Michoac??n, Mexico
January 13, 2011
For today’s fun, I got a randomly generated geographical coordinate and took a closer look in with Streetview. The pin dropped in west-central Mexico, in the state of Michoacán. The nearest settlement was the town of Arteaga, and the main drag did, in fact, have Streetview.
I was looking for an interesting building. Most people would probably look for something architecturally interesting, but in light of my developing food awakening, I decided to look for a place to eat. Google gets credit for taking their Streetview images in the warm season (not as important in Mexico as it is in Minnesota where I live). On the other hand, that means trees are in full leaf and often obscure things you want to look at. I’m sure there were several other eateries that I missed because they were behind beautiful flowering trees. The one that I did find was big and purple, Erika’s Restaurant y Mariscos.
Anything that you can make out on Erika’s menu looks delicious to me. For only having had Spanish classes when I was thirteen and fourteen, I am pleased with how much I remember (which isn’t really much, but enough to get the gist). Nevertheless, I had to look up mariscos. It means seafood. Arteaga is about an hour from the ocean. I bet the seafood is pretty good. I’d probably be up for that, too.
If I gone just one more notch further north, I would have come across the loncheria above, which is the kind of establishment I was really looking for, if you can call it an establishment—it looks pretty temporary, unless you consider that the wheels on the trailer have been removed, then it looks more permanent. But what I’ve learned from Anthony Bourdain and Andrew Zimmern is that this is where you will find the best eats. ¡Quiero tortas!
I also noticed there were some hotels in town, so tourists like me would have somewhere to stay.
Resolve to be resolute, sort of
January 2, 2011
Coincidentally, on this weekend that we change years, I have ended up pondering two things that come up at this time of year–calories (ergo, dieting) and envisioning the future. Tonight we’ll address calories.
A couple of days ago, I dug through my cupboards in search of the food item that contained the highest number of calories per serving. I chose to abide by the serving size listed on the packages even though those are often quite different than what is actually consumed. Except for the brie.
For the most part, I don’t keep junk around. Several people had naughty desserts but the worst I thought I could do was olive oil. But that only has 126 calories per tablespoon serving. No, it turned out that the whole wheat spaghetti was the worst at 210 calories per serving. The only other dry foods I have are various beans, canned tomatoes, and sugar-free Jell-O.
That it was the spaghetti surprised me, but when I got into my refrigerator, there was nothing unexpected. I didn’t figure it would be butter (102 calories per tablespoon) or any of the various cheeses I keep around (100 calories per ounce, give or take). No, I knew the beer would be the biggest calorie offender.
I don’t mess around with these 55 or 64 calorie “beers.” I like the chewy stuff. Unfortunately, my beloved India pale ales pack a punch. They hover around or just under 200 calories per 12 ounces. My seasonal favorite, Celebration Ale by Sierra Nevada, checks in at 214. And my new favorite which I was introduced to at Thanksgiving, Three Philosophers by Ommegang, weighs in at a hefty 294 though, in its defense, it is 9.8% ABV.
Honorable mention does go to the brie cheese. A couple of weeks ago, I got a two-pound wheel on sale for $10. I only wanted one wedge, but when the wedges of other brands were anywhere from $5 to $7, it seemed silly not to go for the big wheel. So although an ounce is about 100 calories, I’ve not been wasting any time eating it up before it spoils, and each time I have some brie I also have some lower-fat Triscuits, seven of which are 120 additional calories. So for sheer consumption at the moment, the brie and crackers wins, regardless of what one actual serving is noted to be.
However, in the long run, it is beer that does me in. As an American woman, it is only natural for me to lament my too-large size. As a beer drinker, it is entirely within my power to do something about it—if only I didn’t love it so much and had more willpower.
I stopped making New Year’s resolutions long ago (the last two I remember were to eat my Five A Day and to never buy white underwear again) and I don’t intend to try to make one today. Every night I go to bed thinking that tomorrow I will exhibit moderation. Just about every day it doesn’t work out, and if it does it’s more by accident than by design.
So yes, tomorrow I shall endeavor to consume fewer calories, but not because of a New Year’s resolution. I will try because I know it would be good for me, and one of these days I will accomplish it, and then I will accomplish it for a second day in a row, and then a third …
December 24, 2010, December 30, 2010
The rabbit in the kitchen with a knife
December 29, 2010
My first thought was to make this a 3-D zucchini sculpture, but as soon as I picked up the knife I knew that would be overly ambitious. So instead I made a simple, woodcut-like carving. Now what?
The alien quietly kicked the electronic dead body. It was dead. It didn’t react. The alien thought for a moment. Maybe the body simply needed some hydrotherapy to restore it, but it was unready to make the decision. The alien thought for thirty seconds longer. Then, with one boisterous gesture, it grabbed the electronic dead body and plunged it into the pot of boiling water. And waited. While it waited, it poured itself a small aperitif of sherry.
The water bubbled in anger, the alien sipped, and gradually, those two things conspired to make the alien’s stomach itself burble. The alien was quite hungry. It gazed longingly into the pot at the electronic dead body. Although the boiling water was splashy, the alien could see that a transformation was taking place in the cauldron. The protracted hydrotherapy had caused the electronic dead body to transform into an edible zucchini.
The alien’s revery was interrupted by the doorbell.
Phrases and words in bold came from random generators. I went where they took me, for better and for worse. The initial sentence came from here. Subsequent words were generated here. Another fun creative writing mini-exercise.
Signs of spring
December 11, 2010
This evening, as snowfall begins that’s predicted to be the heaviest in ten years, I thought we’d review some signs of spring and both reminisce about and look forward to happier times.
As soon as it hits 50 or 60F (10 or 15C), it’s time to start eating lunch outside. There’s a nice plaza a block away from my office that gets toasty sunshine on clear days. It’s very refreshing to get outside for a little while, especially when you don’t have to spend ten minutes bundling up to do it.
Whose mood isn’t brightened by the first daffodils to show their yellow sunniness, or the gentle fragrance from a lilac bush wafting in the breeze? Lilacs. Look at that snow. Can you believe it will be six months until we smell their sweet scent again?
If you’re a baseball fan like I am, spring means the start of the regular season. This past year that was particularly meaningful as the Minnesota Twins inaugurated their new outdoor park, Target Field. It true that some of the first games were rather chilly, but it was so fantastic to be outside watching a game with 40,000 of my closest friends. And we know that in just a few months we’ll be sweltering in the dog days of summer.
We will finish our little mood-jogger this evening with beer. You figured I’d get around to something beer related, right? Perhaps my personal favorite sign of spring is when the Bell’s Oberon Ale is released. Even its sunny label says good times are ahead, and while we’re at it, let’s fire up the grill. Oberon pairs very nicely with a delicious, juicy steak and grilled veggies.
Ah, spring.
April 1, 2010
Good old country comfort
November 5, 2010
I’ve never thought of myself as someone who takes comfort in things. I’m not the one who runs out to shop when I’m in a mood (what mood is one in when one comfort shops? I don’t even know), or who binges on donuts and potato chips when I’m upset. Buying a new pair of shoes does not make me feel better.
Nevertheless, I cannot deny how much I enjoy food and drink, and how I use both as comfort and reward. I know donuts and potato chips are technically food, but they’re junk foods so I discount them—empty calories of processed flour, sugar, potatoes. I feel slightly superior that my comfort food takes the form of pizza (dairy and vegetables with a little flour in the thin, flat crust that I prefer) and beer and wine (I experience a chemical imbalance from it).
I engage in a favorite comfort combo is when I’m feeling lonely. Not because I’m always alone because I’ve freely chosen and embraced the singleton lifestyle which I’m generally fine with, but due to those periodic occasions when I actually wish I had another person around. Nothing soothes me like a big old broiled steak, a giant salad with lots of veggies and vinegar and oil dressing, a movie such as “Bridget Jones’s Diary” or “Under the Tuscan Sun” or a James Bond (wha?) and a bottle of red wine, preferably one of my favorites like Pepperwood Grove Old Vine Zinfandel (a steal at about $7 or $8 per bottle). I’ll be hopelessly weeping by the end of the movie but the next day I’ll feel very satisfied and emotionally refreshed.
I guess beer’s just a general reward for having made to that point the next day. There aren’t many days that go by right now that don’t include a beer or three. I suppose I use it to compensate and comfort myself for the things that I have to deal with in daily life that I’d rather not have to, like working for a living. Not the best reason, but there it is.
Pizza always brings pleasantness to my life—sometimes more than others, as I have forgotten how to stop eating after a sensible amount. I LOVE PIZZA om nom nom nom nom …
When I am getting lunch during a work day, one of my favorites is the lunch special at D’Amico and Sons. I get the Caprese Panini and Tuscan Chicken Soup. That’s a fancy way of saying tomato soup and grilled cheese. Who doesn’t love and wouldn’t be comforted by that? Delicious tomato-based soup with a cheesy overtone and gooey mozzarella sandwiched (pardon the expression) between perfectly toasted and crinkled slices of Italian bread.
I’m sure I could come up with a few other go-to comfort foods (can you say Chipotle chicken burrito, black beans, easy on the rice, sour cream, cheese, tomatoes, and green salsa, or The Brothers Deli totally awesome clam chowder on Fridays?) but I won‘t try. You get the idea.
And as for comfort of the flesh and blood kind, how about your cat lounging on you, or giving you a kneady back rub before she flops herself down against you for the night. What’s that? You say you have a human partner? Kids? Pshaw.
Kelly’s Unnecessary Blog 