Aaaand, re-vamp.

Originally, this was supposed to be an actual blog. That didn't work and it sat around collecting internet dust for a year.
Then, it became a food blog, and that didn't work even worse because I was putting a modicum of effort into it with paltry results and even more paltry readership. Not that I blame anyone for that.
So now... it's a blog again. The title, which finally matches the URL, is taken from a gut reaction I once had to a guy I was talking to about quotations. I told him that I keep a notebook where I sometimes write down notable things people say, and he said that if he kept such a notebook himself, he would only write down the things he said in it. I wanted to stab him in the eye just then, but alas, its been years and last I heard he's still bi-ocular. But now I've got this nifty blog title! So yay?
The point to all of that is... that you shouldn't ever get that full of yourself. Except, of course, you should. Why the hell else would I be blogging this, if not for a desire of self-gratification that doesn't involve the massage setting on my showerhead?
So between looking for a job, learning how to cook better, and trying hard not to take baths with my toaster, I'll be writing stuff and things on here. What stuff and things? Oh, I don't know. Probably about what I cooked, or random dorkery that captures my interest, or how tempting bathtub toast was on a given day (either because the job front looks bleak, or because the plot of Bones is becoming intolerably contrived, who knows anymore?) But mostly, I want to write just to write, to flex my underdeveloped creative muscles, to be able to slip clever dirty jokes in under the radar, or to gripe about things that seem tedious to gripe about until you challenge yourself to do it amusingly. I don't know. I hope it's readable. Also, my camera is up and working, so expect food-related entries with sexy, glossy pictures.

I'm Soop. I enjoy long walks not on the beach (ew, sandy socks), anything having to do with food, and everything worth laughing about. If any of that is vague, that's sort of the point. xxxoo

When not eating, reading.

 

I had an English professor once who had a way of punishing students who did not do the assigned readings in time. She didn't do it with a nasty surprise quiz or anything. She was more creative than that: she gave away the ending. 

"What?" she would say, in her New Zealand accent, "you didn't finish Twelfth Night? Well. I will tell you right now: everybody dies."

Of course, if you've read Shakespeare's Twelfth Night, you know that nobody dies, but this was her standard spoiler for everything we read.  That semester, it only turned out to be true for our last book, Frankenstein, and everyone thought it was pretty funny that it was finally true. So, for a few years now, her "everybody dies" mantra stuck with me, and whenever I read a book where this does happen, I remember it, and can't help but laugh, thus brightening a sad ending, if only a little.*

The problem, though, is when you get into nonfiction. Have you read Julia Child's My Life in France? No? Well, spoiler alert, everybody dies. Even Julia. 

Yes, I said even Julia. She died as the book was being written. Okay, at the age of 94. And, fine, most of the other deaths are mentioned in the epilogue as closing thoughts on her life and experiences in France. All told, I really enjoyed the book. But leave it to me to complain about a book that details the Childs' life in Europe, their marriage, the friendships they cultivate, and Julia's painstaking efforts with Mastering the Art of French Cooking and her television show, The French Chef. It was a wonderful journey to take, reading about her adventures. I couldn't put it down until it was done. And that, unfortunately, was 3am. Which for me is the magical hour during which, if I find myself awake, I ponder the unfairness of human mortality? I think? Anyway, for a book about food, I guess I was hoping for a dessert-like ending. "Everybody dies" does not pair well with an after-dinner cappuccino.

Now, I know I am complaining, but that doesn't mean I think it would be better without those details. To read My Life in France is to look over Julia's shoulder as she goes from a diplomat's unskilled housewife to a badass gumption-powered food expert and enthusiast who dedicated her life from age 36-on to learning all there is about the art of French cooking and teaching it to anyone who would listen. You see her beginning, her struggle, her development, as well as the importance of her support system, consisting mainly of her wonderful, tireless husband and friends. To know that all of these great, energetic people had come to an end was truly, deeply sad. And so, if by accident, this book is part autobiography and part a commentary on the human condition. So there.

Is there a lesson to be learned from all of this? Probably. Can I list the possibilities? Yes, but why should I? I'll just stick to the one lesson that can't possibly be a downer: Learn how to do something really well, and show somebody else.

Also, butterfat is delicious. Though we already knew that one, didn't we?

See you soon, hopefully with an actual recipe!

Sincerely,

Soop

*Disclaimer: the most depressing book I read where everybody dies is Angela's Ashes, and I read it in high school, before I had a chance to find this trope funny. Plus, it's nonfiction. Plus, everyone dies in the middle, not at the end. I still hate whoever made that book mandatory summer reading for freshmen.

Strawberry cake!

This may or may not have been an accidental meal replacement for my boyfriend, probably a few times? It comes from Joy the Baker, and is so easy, and so strawberry flavored, and so pink, that I have filed the recipe away as something I will definitely make again and again.

The original recipe calls for three cake pans, but since I didn't have them, I found two heart shaped tins left behind by my boyfriend's mother (or possibly the secret cake baking fairy) and it worked out wonderfully. Joy also includes a great-looking frosting recipe, but I have a strange moral aversion to making frosting (but no aversion whatsoever of eating a store-bought can of it with a spoon) so I got a tub of Pillsbury cream cheese frosting, and just slathered it on top and between the layers, although I think camouflaging the cake in white only to find its pretty pink center is part of what makes it special. Not eating the leftover frosting took all of my willpower. It rests in my boyfriend's fridge until the next time. But not the cake.

The cake is gone.

Cooking for the Jewish New Year (Brisket, Eggplant Caviar & Honey Cake)

Except for having no money and squirming uncomfortably when people ask me "what do you do?" being unemployed is actually not so bad. For one thing, I have a lot of time to feed my recipe-search obsession, and for another, it comes in handy on days like this Wednesday, which marked the beginning of the Jewish New Year at sundown. Everyone was at work... and I was left all alone to toy with cake batter and an almost-Flintstones sized cut of beef, among other things. I was asked to do this, implored, even, by the same people who eye me uncomfortably when I ask if its okay to make this or that 75% of the time). I got my lovely kitchen all to myself -one of my favorite things in the world- and my family got a holiday dinner without breaking a sweat. I have few opportunities like this, and if I had to trade this for a paycheck...I'd go for the paycheck, but I'd get a little sad about it. Just a little.
So this is the breakdown of the three actually homemade things on our table this Jewish new year. Of course, my camera charger is still missing, so there are no pictures, but the food was good. If I took pictures the next day, I'd only have scraps to photograph.

Brisket with Potatoes: Yields many servings. Count on 2+ days of leftovers for a family of 4

(This recipe comes from a combination of my mother's internet research and improvisation, and my playing it by ear when left alone to make it with only last year's memory as a guide)

one 5lb brisket
6 medium peeled russet potatoes (or however many more will fit in your roasting pan) quartered
3 celery stalks, cut into chunks
3 carrots, cut into chunks
1 medium onion, quartered
5 cloves of garlic, crushed (or use more, why not)
one 28oz can crushed tomatoes (choose a quality brand, since sour/salty tomatoes will affect the whole dish)
2-4 bay leaves (depending on your taste, and how old and flavorless your bay leaves may have become)
1/2 can of beer (feed other half to your brother so as not to waste beer, even if it is Budweiser)
salt&pepper
1 tbsp sugar
olive oil

Trim most of the fat off the meat, rub with salt and pepper, and sear it in a pan on all sides. Spread some olive oil on the bottom of a roasting pan and place meat in the middle. Rub some crushed garlic cloves into the meat, leaving it covered in bits. Tuck a bay leaf under the meat, then spread vegetables around the meat, tucking bay leaves and remaining garlic among them. Salt & pepper the vegetables. Pour beer over the meat, then pour on the can of tomatoes. Add sugar (if the tomatoes seem to need it). Shake the pan to distribute the juices. Mmm juices. Cover with foil.
Bake at 375 for 3 1/2 to 4 hours. I uncovered it with 45 minutes remaining to let some of the liquid cook down.

Eggplant Caviar (Peasant Caviar): Yields about 2 1/2cups
This is a family recipe; eggplant caviar is practically a Russian staple. It is called "caviar" because the eggplant and tomato seeds sort of resemble fish eggs) It tastes great as a spread on bread, latkes (no recipe for those here, I made mine from a box this year), the brisket, or more or less anything that's for dinner. I like it with a spoon, but that's just me. I think it tastes best when everything is minced by hand, but a food processor makes it so much easier.
1 large eggplant (2/3rds the size of a newborn child is ideal)
2 medium tomatoes, cored, cut into chunks
1/2 orange or yellow bell pepper
1 small onion, cut into chunks
1 tbsp white vinegar
2 tbsp vegetable oil
salt & pepper

Roast eggplant until it looks defeated by life (about 40 minutes at 350 degrees, or microwave it at 2 minute intervals until it is soft and sags slightly), allow to cool
Place bell pepper in a skillet on med-high heat and leave until skin chars, about 7 minutes; let cool and remove skin
Pulse tomatoes and bell pepper in food processor until slightly chunky, pour into nonreactive dish
Pulse onion until slightly chunky, add to tomatoes
Separate and discard eggplant skin, pulse eggplant until slightly chunky, add to tomatoes and onion
Add oil, vinegar, salt and pepper to the vegetables, stir, and adjust seasoning to taste. Should be mildly vinegary, a little bit sweet and not too salty. Cover bowl and refrigerate until time to serve. The flavors will develop a little bit more.


Honey-Orange Cake: Yields one 9x13" pan, or 24 medium cupcakes
Our honey cake used to come from my great-aunt, who made batches of traditional foods for the family, but she has toned down her cooking in recent years; I was afraid that anything I made to replace her cake would be off the mark. This comes from Allrecipes.com and the end result is lighter than my great aunt's, has very little of the bitter honey flavor, and smells like flowers. I would make it all the time. Maybe in cupcake form, with cream cheese frosting. Success :) 
1 cup white sugar
1 cup honey (a dark, strong-flavored honey is great. I used Buckwheat and liked it a lot)
1/2 cup vegetable oil
4 eggs
2 teaspoons grated orange zest
1 cup orange juice
2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
3 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon (had to leave this out since some people around here don't like cinnamon)

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (175 degrees C). Grease and flour a 9x13 inch pan. Sift together the flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt and cinnamon. Set aside.
2. In a large bowl, combine sugar, oil, honey, eggs and orange zest. Beat in the flour mixture alternately with the orange juice, mixing just until incorporated. Pour batter into prepared pan.
3. Bake in the preheated oven for 40 to 50 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into the center of the cake comes out clean. Allow to cool. 
   (Note: I made 12 cupcakes and one cake pan from the above batter recipe. The cupcakes took about 25 minutes.)

  So there you have it. Just add latkes, gefilte fish and the moonshine white-wine stuff my mother made (which, appropriately, tastes like Maneschewitz, and is an entirely different story altogether), and you've got Rosh Hashannah dinner at my house. Hooray.

Happy Almost Autumn!

Temperatures are dropping a little, and not a moment too soon, since my air conditioner suddenly stopped working a couple of weeks ago. I missed it, terribly, for two very uncomfortable days, but now with the windows open, it's actually chilly- and I am excited. I am not somebody who mourns putting away her flip-flops. I don't get sad when someone comes to the realization that "summer's almost over".  I love fall. It's got all the best stuff packed into it: crunchy leaves, crisp apples, leather boots, my birthday, and being able to turn on the oven and make delicious things in it. Like for the upcoming Jewish holidays, or Thanksgiving, or just because it's windy outside and you felt like roasting something. Or making pie.

Autumn is pie season :)
September also marks the end of a month-long root canal procedure, and I will be thrilled to put my repaired teeth to good use. So I hope to be posting warm, cozy recipes very soon. And while I'm at it, I have some neon-green soup to show you a picture of... as soon as I get hold of a camera.

no-ice-cream-maker raspberry sorbet

I like to find ways of jimmy-rigging my way around expertly specified instructions. Why use a hammer and nails when there's duct tape aplenty? Oh. Well. Now that I think about it, I may have gotten this attitude from my father. He's a man who never takes a direct route- because that's what builds character. Living in constant frustration, I mean, builds character. Personally, though, I'd like to think that my "alternative" solutions are ingenious, and save either time or money. I imagine my father also thinks the same thing... but I'm trying to avoid this vortex of introspection I'm starting to open up over here. Anyway! This recipe costs me very little to make, in terms of money, because I do it with inexpensive ingredients and no fancy ice-cream maker. The lack of an ice cream maker, however, makes it somewhat time-intensive, so I recommend making it if you'll be home for most of the day. You know, hiding from that big yellow thing in the sky, wishing you had something cold and delicious in the freezer...

I get my raspberries for free because they grow in my backyard. This is the only reason I can allow myself to take such a huge quantity of them and not shove them directly into my mouth. Not that you should be jealous, since I'm the one who picks them (I'm less delicious to mosquitoes than my mother, so I get the brave the wild), raspberry bushes have many tiny thorns all over them, and while I am not too attractive to insects, I'm not entirely unattractive either.

The raspberries are ripening quickly, and we've got so many that I'm sure there'll be more than one blog entry about raspberry-themed dishes. This one in particular came from the fact that we still have frozen raspberries from last year to deal with, and I figured the best thing to do with frozen berries is keep them frozen in a sorbet. This is one of the earliest recipes I've ever made and it is easy, tasty as all hell, and probably somewhat nutritious. I think. I've been using this recipe for years, and originally got it from an old Cosmo Girl at the library, they credit the recipe to the Ciao Bella Gelato Company. You'll need simple syrup. To make it, combine 2 cups water with 2 cups sugar, bring to a boil, turn down the heat and stir frequently for about 5 minutes before taking it off the heat. Yields 3 cups, and now you, too, will get annoyed when you see pretty glass bottles of it in Trader Joe's. It's a ripoff, people, since it's cheap-as-free in your own home.

Raspberry Sorbet, makes 6 servings:

3 cups simple syrup
3 tbsp fresh lemon juice
5 cups fresh or frozen raspberries
1 cup water

 Directions:
1. Combine all of the ingredients and blend until smooth (might need to do this in two batches)
2. Remove seeds by pouring through a strainer or fine mesh sieve. I mix it in the sieve with a wooden spoon so it strains faster
3. Chill in refrigerator for 2 hours, pour into ice cream maker and follow machine directions*

*If you don't have an ice cream maker, which I don't, pour the mixture into a wide, flat container. Freeze until slushy, stirring it up every 15-30 minutes with a fork so you don't get a 12x12 ice cube (happened once; risking frostbite on your fingers isn't worth it, even for tasty sorbet). When slushy throughout, transfer to a plastic container and allow it to freeze. Enjoy!
(** I wonder whether you can just freeze the mixture in ice cube trays, turn it into slush with your blender, and then freeze it in a container. Try it and tell me. I don't have ice cube trays! Alternatively, freeze it in large freezer bags, laying flat, so its easy to crack into pieces. After cracking, blend in a blender or food processor, and spoon it into a container to allow it to freeze. Jimmy-rigging really works! And you don't have to babysit this one all day.)

Mango Sorbet, makes 6 servings: (This is on the same page as the raspberry sorbet recipe. I've never made this because mangoes go very quickly around here, but I want to)
4 medium-sized mangoes, washed
2 cups simple syrup
3 tbsp lime juice
1 cup water

Directions: peel mangoes, scoop and cut out the flesh, combine all ingredients and puree in a blender, follow directions as above.

Cold soup for hot days

 (Ta-dah!)

I like cold soups in the summer because they combine the complete-mealness of a hot soup, with the don't-use-the-stoveness you desire on these 95-degrees-in-the-shade days. This particular soup is a semi-original invention that was spawned when I saw recipes for yogurt-based soups and tried to find a way to make them without actually using yogurt. I'm not a yogurt eater, with the exception of the frozen, Pinkberry variety. I know, yogurt is great; it's full of healthy bacteria and bone-building calcium, and I'm even told it tastes good, though that last part is highly dubious. But you know what else has all those health benefits without the yogurt taste? Buttermilk. Okay, I know, when you think of buttermilk, what comes to mind is that thing you add to pancake and cake batters, and not a soup base. But try it. This soup will taste suspiciously like tzatziki sauce, and I have been reading up on Wikipedia, and apparently, some cultures do make a chilled soup with similar ingredients, including buttermilk. (Of course, those cultures also have a history of this and this, but that's not to discount their soup expertise)
Friends, I assure you, on balls-hot days, it is air conditioning in a bowl.

I included dill and parsley as the herbs, but I'm sure it would taste great with cilantro, mint, or even arugula leaves sliced into thin ribbons. I did not add lemon juice, since the buttermilk is already tart, but that's another option.

Need:
1 quart buttermilk
5 cucumbers (give or take) cut into small cubes, seeded if desired
2-3 scallions, green and white parts, thinly sliced
2 tbsps sour cream
1 tbsp mayonnaise
2-3 cloves garlic, pressed or minced
1 tbsp fresh parsley
1 tbsp fresh dill
cayenne pepper to taste
salt & freshly ground black pepper to taste

For Garnish (optional)
sliced or crumbled hard boiled eggs
thinly sliced or cubed radish
scallion slices

Directions:
Combine all ingredients in a non-reactive container, cover and chill for several hours to let the flavor develop. Taste just before serving, and adjust seasoning as needed. Top with garnish of choice. Serves... lets say 6-8? Depending on bowl size? Okay. 6-8.
Note: if when you first combine the ingredients, they seem a little thick, dilute with a little water at a time until it's at the desired consistency.

 (I'm not a good photographer, but you can tell by the jaunty placement of that napkin that I'm trying my darnedest)

Enjoy! Next time I'll have a dessert.