Role reversal

In a curious turn of events, hubby has been jobhunting during the past month and I’ve been the temporary breadwinner, busy full-time working on various freelance writing assignments. No complaints, though. I’ve been lucky enough to receive some pretty plum jobs that have allowed me to write about two of my favorite subjects — food and travel. The only real downsides to this situation are that 1) I haven’t had as much time as I’d like lately to spend with my little guy and 2) I’ve barely been cooking at all.

Have to say, hubby has really embraced the whole domestic scene and is doing a great job at keeping the house running like a well-oiled machine, including meal preparation. On one recent occasion, I happened to walk in to get a glass or something out of the cabinet while he was cooking and was promptly ordered to “get out of MY kitchen.” This may be taking things a LITTLE too far…

Hubby had a few solid dishes under his belt to begin with, but he’s really taken them to a new level over the past few weeks. He’s definitely got the homemade pizza thing nailed. A neighbor and I were enjoying a glass of wine on the back patio during a warm evening about two weeks ago when hubby decided to whip one up. You should have seen her face when he brought it out, hot, steaming and fragrant from the oven. She was so impressed, she called the next day to ask him for tips so she could make one at her house.

hubby's homemade pepperoni pizza

Hubby uses store-bought refrigerated crust, but I fully expect that it’s only a matter of time before he’s cranking out his own from scratch. I haven’t even witnessed what he does to make his ‘za so good, but I believe it involves simply tomato paste, cheese, pepperoni and the lightest drizzle of olive oil. A sprinkling of the herbes de Provence I purchased on our last visit to France in the fall seems to be the secret ingredient. I’m telling ya, that little packet I bought at a street market in Aix for a couple of euros has proven to possess damn near magical qualities — a little pinch utterly transforms everything from roasted meat and veggies to pasta sauce. I’m tempted to try it in muffins or scones. If you ever see an herbes de Provence blend in the supermarket, pick up a jar and try it for yourself in almost any savory dish. You won’t be sorry.

But I digress, back to bragging about my husband… the other dish he’s really been jazzed about perfecting lately is pot pie. This is sort of an unlikely fixation for him; he’s never requested or even mentioned an affinity for pot pie prior to eating a chicken version he proclaimed awesome at the Red Lion Grog House in Fountain Square a few weeks ago.

Again, using plain old store-bought pie crust, he’s been able to produce some interesting and delicious results. First, a lightly sauced chicken pot pie stuffed with shredded meat, chopped carrots and celery. Even better, though, is his beef version, made using his Guinness beef stew recipe, which I already love. Playing around with presentation, his latest attempt included some little ceramic ramekins he filled with the stew and covered with rounds of dough, and also some mini-pies that made using muffin tins. I liked the ramekins, I thought they would be adorable for a fancy dinner party, but hubby preferred the muffin versions, saying they reminded him more of the authentic pies he’s eaten in England. No matter, both were delicious.

adorable individual pot pies

muffin-tin pot pies

With several big assignments now turned in and off my plate, my freelance schedule looks to be lightening up a hair. Hopefully I’ll have enough breathing room to revisit my pots, pans and knives this week and make sure they haven’t forgotten me. If I can wrestle hubby out of “his” kitchen, that is…

Random Paris food observations

A few thoughts on items I’ve eaten in the last few days. In no particular order:

The food here hasn’t been quite as good as I seem to remember in some respects, particularly for dinners. Maybe we just haven’t chosen the right bistros.

For instance, on our last visit, I remembered having a stellar roast chicken and wanted to return to the particular restaurant that served it to me. So we did. However, when I ordered it this time, the portion was smaller, and it came with a cup of pomme frites. The fries were ok, nothing tremendous. I dove into the chicken (a quarter, leg and thigh). Not bad. Not fantastic. The savory jus under the chicken was the best part of the plate.

I was a few bites in when I realized the meat was pretty pink. Not bloody pink, but pink enough to make the hypochondriac in me kick into overdrive. Hubby had ordered the exact same thing, and said his seemed overcooked and slightly dry. I can’t imagine how two pieces of chicken that look exactly the same and are cooked in the exact same way could turn out so differently. Hubby intervened for me and had the chicken sent back to the kitchen for a little further cooking. This, after we’d already sent back my mother-in-law’s steak when it came out a little too pink for her taste. That waitress must have hated us.

The remains of my chicken came back steaming hot and I finished it, trying not to worry myself into a frenzy about food poisoning. As it turned out, I was fine, thank goodness.

We fared much better with a rotisserie bird from a local butcher. You occasionally see a rotisserie stand outside butcheries and at the street markets, spinning their delectable poultry like a ferris wheel, the delicious juices dripping down to flavor sliced potatoes roasting in the bottom of the machine. YUM. At 10 – 15 euros a pop, these chickens don’t come cheap, but they are worth every penny.

 

Needing a break from expensive café fare, hubby and I ventured out last night in the rain to purchase one such chicken last night, along with a fresh-baked baguette from the boulangerie and cheeses from the grocery store. Some cherry tomatoes, grapes and chocolate cookies rounded out the meal. We spread everything out on the table in the rental apartment, cracked open a 4-euro bottle of Cotes du Rhone and dug in. It was a fabulous rainy-day indoor picnic.

We also decided to save a few euros on breakfast this morning by eating in as well – having picked up some fresh fruit from the produce stand and huge buttery croissants from the same bakery where I got the baguette. Along with hot tea, yogurt and milk, it was a breakfast of champions.

My spirits have been a little low today because of all the rain, so I went out for a long solo walk and some unsuccessful souvenir shopping. Needing to warm up, I had my heart set on a café crème and a slice of tarte tatin (apple tart). Snagging a seat at a bustling place called Les Philosophes, I ordered and waited for hubby to come join me. The coffee did the trick to take off the chill, and the cake was ok, but not as good as the one I had last time around.

I want to try to recreate this recipe at home – doesn’t look too terribly hard. Sliced apples layered in a baking dish, drizzled with a caramel sauce and topped a layer of puff pastry. The whole thing is then baked until brown and bubbly and turned out onto a serving plate, sort of an apple version of pineapple upside-down cake. If you’re lucky, you can find it served with a little side dish of crème fraiche, a tangy cross between cream cheese and sour cream, and a pleasant alternative to whipped cream.

While I’m on the subject of sweet treats, I’ve got one word for you. Macarons. Oh. My. Goodness. You see these little gem-like confections in pastry shops everywhere you look, and oh man, are they delicious. Like the chickens, you pay dearly for these little mouthfuls at a euro each or more. But, if you’re looking for a splurge, they are a great way to go. Around the size of a 50-cent piece, the little feather-light meringues give way at the slightest bite to reveal rich fillings like chocolate ganache, fruit or cream. Swoon. We purchased half a dozen to share from a bakery around the corner in a rainbow of flavors —lemon, vanilla, chocolate, blueberry, almond, pistachio. Delectable.

This is our last night in the City of Lights before leaving on the train tomorrow afternoon for Provence. (Hubby insisted on making the ticket arrangements this time around. Can’t imagine why…) The weather has really prevented us from taking full advantage of all the gloriousness this lovely town has to offer, but I imagine we’ll be back again at some point. I’m already planning my next itinerary.

Irish eyes are smiling

I’m sad and embarrassed to admit I’ve neglected my blog so much these past few months, but let’s get jumpstarted back into the entries with my current trip to Ireland!

Hubby is doing a bunch of business in Europe this summer, so instead of a series of trips back and forth over the pond, the toddler and I came along for an extended stay. We’ve settled into my mother-in-law’s house in Millstreet, County Cork as our home base for about six weeks. We’re currently halfway through the trip, and with all the side jaunts we’ve been doing to see various and sundry relatives, the time is flying by.

This is my sixth trip to Ireland, and the weather this time around by far blows away any other visit. Warm, sunny and barely a hint of rain in the past three weeks. Unbelievable for a country where you are likely to experience, as they say, four seasons in one day. I’ve packed horribly wrong by bringing jeans, long-sleeved shirts and even a sweater or two when I could have gotten away with shorts, sandals and sundresses. Who knew? Oddly enough, from what we can tell, Indianapolis has been plagued by terrible thunderstorms and tornado watches since we’ve been away. Talk about a role reversal…

Although Ireland is still full of the same gorgeous green ancient scenery as it has been in the six years I’ve been visiting, I do see some changes happening in my two most recent trips. First of all, the younger generation (and by younger, I mean mine) seems to be moving away from drinking tea into a coffee culture. Cafes and coffee shop/bakeries have been springing up like weeds, serving all manner of hot beverages including fancy flavored lattes. Starbucks hasn’t yet taken over; there was a location next door to the hotel where we stayed in Dublin, but it’s been the only one I’ve seen so far. Sadly, most of the coffee is mediocre at best. Lots of instant powdered, and lots of not-expertly prepared versions. Of course, hubby and I are coffee snobs, having sampled the really good java in France and Italy where baristas really know what they’re doing. Still, I imagine the quality of the Irish joe will only keep improving within the next few years to meet the growing demand.

Other big changes are taking place on the restaurant scene. In the past, dining out in Ireland has been a limited proposition. Menus were very abbreviated, most items automatically came with fries/chips, and everything was pretty expensive regardless of quality or quantity. For that reason, people here don’t seem to dine out very often. Add up the costs for two adults and a couple of kids and you’re likely to drop some serious cash on a dinner or a take-away. (That’s take-out for my fellow Americans.)

Thus, most of our meals have been eaten at home, lovingly prepared by my mother-in-law or one of hubby’s sisters, and they’ve been delicious. But I’m also happy to report I’ve been pleasantly surprised with the meals we’ve enjoyed out these past few weeks.

For example – hubby and I escaped for a date night dinner a couple weeks ago while staying with my sister-in-law in Bandon. Destination? A renovated gastropub called Poachers, renowned for its fish dishes. The place was fairly busy at 8 p.m. on the Tuesday night we were there; obviously, the local community is embracing the changes.

Poachers Inn, Bandon

The menu was nicely upscale, full of pretty fancy, borderline fussy stuff with elaborate garnishes and saucing. Hubby ordered a stuffed chicken breast served with ratatouille vegetables and mashed potatoes. I went for a three-course prix-fixe menu for 25 euros. My starter was a handful of small toasts topped with a whipped goat cheese mousse-like concoction, slivers of preserved lemon and thin slices of beet. A fresh herb salad with pickled cucumbers anchored the center of the plate. Yum.

My main course was two delectable crab-and-prawn cakes topped with a mango plum salsa relish, creamy mayonnaise tartar sauce and more salad. Not a potato in sight – crazy!!! For dessert, hubby and I shared my warm gingerbreadish sticky toffee pudding with a scoop of whipped cream and hearty drizzle of caramel sauce. All in all, a splendid meal. And even more impressive, our total bill (with a couple beers and two glasses of wine) hovered around $75 dollars, easily fair value for the amount and caliber of food.

Restaurant diversity is expanding, too. On an overnight in Dublin, I was thrilled to see all ilk of ethnic eateries. Even in little Millstreet, there is an Indian restaurant and a new pizza place I’d like to try. In Dublin, we ate dinner at a small, modern Italian ristorante near our hotel. Hubby ordered his tried-and-true standby – a pizza salami and I opted for a penne pasta with pesto and thick shavings of pungent parmesan. The food was solid and authentic, not the best I’ve ever had, but certainly tasty enough.

Breakfast the next morning was another story. Thanks to hubby’s fortuitous suggestion to follow an unexplored side street, we came across a tiny café advertising breakfast all day. Sold, and in we went. As I mentioned earlier, cafes are popping up a dime a dozen all around these parts, but this was a particularly good one. We nestled into a small table toward the back under skylights next to a small open-air patio and started browsing through a menu full of breakfast choices.

After much consideration, hubby and I settled on the same item – a super-freshly prepared huge croissant sandwich with cheese, salty slabs of Irish bacon and scrambled egg, served with a small ramekin of delicious Ballymaloe tomato relish (a sweetish, spicy, chunky ketchup). For the toddler, we ordered pancakes — which I keep forgetting are actually crepes here — with sliced banana and Nutella. We also couldn’t resist ordering a “Babychino” for him, a cup of sweet steamed milk with chocolate shavings on top, which our picky little boy soundly refused to drink, although he did polish off the crepes and Nutella without much coaxing.

Speaking of Ballymaloe, Ireland’s well-known culinary school empire, I have several gift vouchers that I’m hoping to make use of with a wonderful lunch or dinner, if not an overnight stay at the inn. More to come on that later…

Other meals that stand out thus far – a simple traditional roast chicken and boiled ham dinner from my mother-in-law. Rounded out with classic roasted potatoes and vegetables, it was Irish cooking at its best. Also memorable was a fresh cannelloni my brother-in-law whipped up, complete with handmade pasta and a savory ricotta/mascarpone/ground beef filling and topped with tomatoes. Oh. My. Goodness. It was melt-in-your-mouth fabulous.

Here’s to more good eats to come, and slainte!

Cold comfort

I’m sick. I felt it coming Monday night, and sure enough, when I woke up on Tuesday – full-blown cold. Hubby is enjoying a weekend of work in sunny Florida while I’m stuck at home trying to balance languishing and taking care of the baby. I was briefly tempted to hop on a plane and head down there with him to enjoy a few days of sunshine and warm temps, but decided in light of our quickly approaching trip to Europe next week, it was probably more prudent to stay home. Hope he’s having a good time, &*#@*&#@. Actually, I’m exaggerating. I’m not really that sick right now. Tuesday and Wednesday were the roughest days, and hubby was here to take great care of me before he had to leave. Things have improved steadily each day since and although I’m still not quite fully recovered just yet, I imagine I should be back at full strength in another day or two. 

What’s the old saying – “Starve a fever, feed a cold?” Or is it the other way around? I can never remember. I’m not sure I had a fever, but I definitely have a cold. In any case, I didn’t have much appetite this week and my culinary thoughts turned to comfort foods. Mashed potatoes, macaroni and cheese, soups, chocolate pudding and the like. For me, anything warm, soothing and creamy fits the fill just fine. Another appeal of comfort foods is that they’re easy to make, which is very much appreciated when you’re feeling too woozy to stand at the stove for very long. You can even make a game of it! Play along for a minute and I’ll show you what I mean. Open up your fridge and take a look at what’s inside. Select almost any cooked meat and a vegetable. Now open up a can of cream of mushroom soup (you know you’ve all got one lurking in your pantry) and mix it all together. Dump the whole concoction into a casserole dish, throw some cheese on top and bake it until bubbly. There ya go. This sort of thing makes me happy as a duck in water. It’s not the kind of food I could eat every day, mind you, but when I’m sick, it’s just the ticket.  

I pride myself on having a pretty diverse palate, but comfort foods will always hold a special place in my taste buds. Don’t they for us all? There are such important memories wrapped up in them. Years from now, I will tell my son that for the first couple of months of my pregnancy with him, I survived on little more than cottage cheese, freshly squeezed orange juice and Triscuits. Those were the only foods that sounded good, and they were just what I wanted. 

When I was under the weather as a little girl, the first comfort foods I can remember my mom making for me were hot tea and cinnamon toast. Hot tea seemed like such a grown-up thing to have when you’re small, I always felt so important and loved whenever a cup of this magical potion appeared before me. And sure enough, it always seemed to cure whatever was ailing me at the time. I’m a coffee drinker today, but it just doesn’t have the same connotation. I still enjoy the occasional cup of hot tea and look forward to quite a few cuppas next week when we are back in Ireland.

More of my favorite comfort foods from childhood and beyond include Cocoa Krispies, Spaghettios with hot dogs cut up into it, broasted chicken from Miller’s Cafeteria in Richmond IN (long since closed, but still to this day, the BEST chicken I’ve ever had), the stewed chicken and dumplings my mom used to make every Christmas, hash brown potato casserole, my mom’s beef vegetable soup and her chocolate chip coffeecake, my hubby’s Guinness beef stew, and porcupine meatballs. (Note of explanation: porcupine meatballs are not made from porcupines. Relax. They are named porcupines because the rice that sticks out of them when they’re cooked looks like little quills.) Which reminds me, hidden somewhere in my dad’s house are several cookbooks full of recipes contributed by members of our church, a GREAT source of comfort food inspiration. Note to self – find these books and steal, I mean, er, borrow them next time I’m home…

Another favorite comfort food tradition in my family came from a surprising source, but has definitely stood the test of time. In the early 1980s, my brother brought home a recipe for chicken rice pilaf from his 7th grade home economics class and proudly made it for us for dinner. We loved it, and were somewhat amazed by his up-to-then hidden culinary talents. It’s been a staple in our family ever since, and my brother’s turned into quite a good cook by his own merits. It’s simple to make, not exactly low-cal (but who cares about that when you’re sick and need some good nourishment) and reheats splendidly. Kids love this, too. Chicken, noodles, rice – what’s not to like?? You can easily jazz the recipe up by adding in any variety of vegetables, fresh herbs, perhaps a splash of white wine, but the unadulterated version is perfect on a cold day or when you’re not feeling well. Whip up a batch next time you’re feeling puny, or better yet, have your significant other make it for you. Don’t forget to sprinkle in some extra love!

 

Get-well-quick Chicken Pilaf

• 1/2 c. butter
• 2 c. uncooked pasta (I like rotini or good old fashioned egg noodles)
• 1/2 c. rice (NOT instant)
• 2 c. chicken broth
• 1 c. shredded cooked chicken (about two boneless breasts worth, poached and cooled, or you can go the super-easy way out and use your favorite ready-to-go rotisserie chicken from the grocery store)

Directions:

Melt the butter in a large skillet, add the dry pasta and cook over medium heat until lightly browned, stirring frequently. Don’t skip this step, it gives the dish a wonderful nutty flavor, but be forewarned – once the pasta starts to get toasty, it can go from browned to burnt in a hurry, so be ready to dump in the broth as soon as the noodles start to become evenly browned. Add the rest of the ingredients, bring to a low simmer and cook uncovered until the rice is done and noodles are soft, about 20 minutes. Can add a little more water if needed as the rice and noodles soak up the liquid. Makes about 3 servings.