10.29.2016

A 30-Year-Old Egg

   Hallowe'en is coming, and you know what that means? Eggs. Worse than getting TPed, I've never actually seen a house get egged, short of perhaps in a movie scene. But apparently it's a thing, and it's partly the only reason I'm bringing it up in conjunction with All Saints' Eve.
   Now, I don't like eggs, but I'll eat them. And you'll note here my favorite way to eat eggs, at least when they're explicitly present in a meal. But, strange as it may be, when we go out to eat and I am in the mood for eggs, boiled is hardly on the menu. I've actually tried to order them at least thrice, with responses that ranged from the obvious "we don't have" to the humorous "you mean for a salad?" Needless to say, I regularly order omelettes instead.
   I've actually been in the habit of eating omelettes since college, where the food seemed endless and I actually had time to eat breakfast after my first class. Everybody's favorite chef was Omelette Guy, where he'd give you every option imaginable for him to craft your very own 3-egg omelette. The nutritional value was always a question but never an issue in anyone's mind.

How Not to Make an Omelette

   I faintly remember having made an omelette before, but knowing how memories work and the likelihood of the whole thought being fabricated, plus the fact that I have no photographic evidence of it, I've probably never made an omelette before. And that actually makes me feel good, because the specimen you're about to see is so idiotic, I would have no excuse for its concoction had I succeeded at it once.
 
March 12, 2016 - Level Zero Omelette

   Allow me to explain my thought process in the initial stages of this obvious faux pas. I was so psyched that I was to create my first omelette that I forgot the single most important step: whipping the eggs. I cracked the shells, peeled them apart, poured them into the sizzling pan, and voilà! started to think that something was amiss. As the thought settled in my mind, I went into the other room to admit my mistake to Jes, who seemed to know instantly what the problem was. I mean, there are very few ways you can fail at making an omelette, especially within the first seconds of sizzling.
   Well, not being a fan of sunny-side any-which-way eggs, I stabbed it all with my trusty spatula and made my first batch of scrambled eggs. Of course, I'll still refer to it as an omelette because that's what it was meant to be. The fact that it looks nothing like one was simply an error en route to the plateor, in this case, the bowl.
   I know it doesn't taste any different from an omelette, but its appearance sat in the back of my mind as something not so appetizing. I mean, look at that third quadrant: It's so fluffy! It looks like a Peep exploded into a hundred pieces. And I'm not even a fan of marshmallows, either.
   Well, since Jes was practically forcing me to eat my  words  works, I just had to douse it in flavor first. You know, to mask the egginess. She suggested hot sauce, and I had to admit I didn't think of that; ketchup or Worce-ster-shire were the first condiments to come to my mind. But I reached for the spice cupboard, considered the soy sauce, brought down a tiny bottle of coconut flavoring, took a whiff and smiledall while Jes had to leave the room because she couldn't bare to see what I was about to doand decided on hot sauce after all. There's just something about that vinegar-cayenne mix that works with just about anything.

More Whisk, Less Risk

   Soon, I returned to my weekly breakfast skillet with more confidence in my ability to keep to the codethat being, beat the eggs before you cook them. I know; it's like common sense for an omelette, and if I were reading a recipe, I'd hardly miss that step, but trial and error is as proper a teacher. And, that said, this time still had room for improvement.
 
March 19, 2016 - Mushroom-Swiss Omelette

   I was much happier with myself when I pulled this together: broke 2 eggs, brought out my shootin' hand to mix yolk and albumen as best as I could, then poured the smooth concoction into the buttered pan and tilted it around to fill out the circle. I know the tricks for making pancakes, but this was something new for me, and I still haven't mastered the technique of knowing when to flip it. Maybe my spatula wasn't big enough, or maybe I did well enough and I'm just kidding myself. But the thing that sets this omelette apart from the next is, once again, some amendment of the first step.
    I had my ingredients all prepped from the get-gotomatoes, mushrooms and (I believe) sliced Swiss cheesebut the reason I piled them high in, once again, that third quadrant was simply because it's how I imagined making it at the time. Now, there's nothing wrong with building an omelette like that. It tastes about the same, given those particular ingredients (i.e., vegetables). But the egg became a blanket to the filling, its taste separate and still-so-eggy, something I don't particularly enjoy in my eggs.
   Folding this over also proved meddlesome in that I can never decide proper ratios for combining flavors. I know, it's nothing a simple recipe can't fix, but that's just not my style. Good cooking had to start somewhere; it wasn't always mathematical ledger, right? Besides, it's not like either of these came out inedible. They were simply not as good as they should have been.

Living on the Ejjeh

   Which brings us to my final omelette of the year (thus far, at least). Once again, still not the "best omelette you've ever had," but definitely, in the line of Saturday-morning cooking, the best yet crafted by yours truly. Even Jes made the face of approval when she had a bite of it; it's almost as if the mushrooms inside weren't even there.

October 16, 2016 - Ome-Roulette

   There are a few things I'm proud of in this meal, but let's start with the list of ingredients. Lately, it's easy for us always to have eggs on hand. But what else should go into an omelette? Whatever you have in the fridge at the time could work out in your favor. I like to limit myself to about three additions, one of which is cheese. The type of cheese mostly sets the tone for the end product, and therefore the other two choices. I'm not a fan of this shredded, pre-packaged stuff, but for ease of use andespecially in the case of cheddardecency upon melting, it was probably the best option we had in our deli drawer at the time.
   The first thing to hit the pan, on this particular day of trial, was a delicate dab of leftover bacon grease. Home-prepped lard. I'd heard it was the proper start to a meal of eggs, but honestly never having had a traditional plate of eggs and bacon, this was the closest I'd ever be to that standard of a presumably purposed pairing. As soon as the whole thing melted on medium heat, a steady swish to coat the whole pan was met with the next level of eggs-traordinary tips. (If you thought I was above that, I've got news for you.)
    While whisking the 2 eggs this time around, I mixed in the other two ingredients: finely chopped mushrooms and a handful of asparagus tips. Not only did this make crafting the omelette easier, I believe it helped hold the egg together (fancy that) when it came time to flip. As the topside now cooks, the cheese is added to optimally fill a semi-circle or full circle, but for some reason I opted for burrito-layering. No matter. The end result would only be missing cheese in a few bites.
 
October 16, 2016 - Ome-Roulette

    After folding and plating, not only did this taste vaguely familiar, but it also looked like the little egg-patties of my family's tradition, ejjeh. Which, oddly enough, I'd always enjoyed. Probably due in part to my preference for eating them cold. Those egg-parsley rounds were always easier for me to stomach than, say, a fresh slice of quiche (pronounced kwee-chay). Anyway, as much as this omelette tasted good dry, I still like adding condiments to them. This one saw a splash of ponzubasically a lemon-soy sauce that followed in line with the refrigerator roulette aspect of this meal.

8.18.2016

Refrigerator Roulette

   In celebration of our new apartment, new kitchen, and today our new fridge, I bring for your starved eyes and idle hands "improvisational meals." Following are dishes which I'm glad to say had cost me no stress to crafta quality that is often lacking when I am playing the part as chef. The first two utilize ingredients left over from previous nights, while the latter two are not only more appealing, but they lead in a concept I much appreciate: cooking with condiments.
   In an early post, I subtly mentioned one of the most integral precepts I cook by: You work with what you have. A recipe calls for something you don't have? Find a substitute; or, possibly, you can omit it. Though, in these cases, it's much simpler than that. Hungry? Look in the fridge and start pulling out ingredients. Fond memories of my dad making lunch for us stem from this basic principle. His idea of pizza was very...unique.

Hasty, yet Tasty

   Lunch is usually my first meal of the day, simply because I rarely have time anymore for breakfast. If I do have breakfast, it's usually in the form of Pop-Tarts or fruit; when it's not, it's a special occasion. But returning to lunch, the most impromptu of these plates seem to always start with a tortilla.

March 1, 2013 - Concocted Steak Fajitas

   This wasn't so on-the-spot as I initially led you on to believe. I brought all of the ingredients to work and assembled it there for the microwave oven. The tortilla and peppers were provided from home, while the steak and cheese came from Baja Fresh. Something I picked up from someone somewhere: you can shop for ingredients from local restaurants, just as you might ask for "extra" on the side. Yes, it's cheap in more ways than one, but hey, it saves time and effort for a lone pair of lunchtime fajitas.

March 1, 2013 - Concocted Steak Fajitas

   Now, if you really wanna talk cheap, long before that delicious treat was even possible—and, actually, a few months before I met Jes in person—I'd made a burrito (pictured below) containing melted Havarti, leftover Chinese-takeout rice mixed with a couple of packets of Taco Bell mild sauce, and sliced pear. The Taco-Bell sauce was a phase of my early cooking days, and you'll hear the end of it another day. But I must say, for something so embarassingly bland, it was actually a decent meal.

July 30, 2011 - Meatless, Veggie-less Burrito

A League of Its Own

   Moving right along to the other half, there's something to be said about refrigerated condiments. Ketchup, mustard, mayonnaise—in my youth, these things found their way to the table merely as add-ons for burgers, pretzels, and sandwiches; but somewhere along my life, I got the idea that they should really be add-ins. Shirley, I'd often watched my mother put ketchup in meatloaf—and the memory of her using the short-lived green variety that hit the supermarket shelves one year is actually more hilarious than revolting.
   Ground mustard was upon our spice rack, and I'd sprinkled that over potato salad and other sorts of foods as a kid exploring distinct flavors. The squirtable version was less a favorite of mine, even for hotdogs and kielbasa which I consider proper pairings nowadays. And mayonnaise is often used as a binding agent due to its egg-content. Well, my mom would be proud to learn that last one had stuck with me after all those years, because when I thought of ingredients to mix together for a delectable, moist coating for boneless chicken breasts, mayo was at the top of the list.

July 13, 2015 - Art o' Chicken

   The other two noticeable pieces of this spread were chopped artichoke hearts and black olives, along with a tasty dose of garlic powder, salt and pepper. My passion was really showing that night, as though I knew exactly what the outcome would taste like even before I'd opened the mayo jar. A few combining stirs later and a balanced application over the thawed chicken, these saw their way to the oven and came out without a worry for their doneness. Only God could have orchestrated such peace in the kitchen that day, and if that weren't enough, this meal marks the third which Jes and I agree belongs in my portfolio.

The Best of the Worce-t

   The side dish for my artichoke-chicken was a preparation of yellow squash Jes had made with Worce-ster-shire sauce. Another condiment which I used to only apply to well-done steaks, the very label suggests using it for marinating. Well, I can't say that I've done that yet, but I have put it to work as a form of simmering broth.

January 27, 2014 - Baked BBQ Chicken Remastered

   I can't say I recall why this reads "baked BBQ chicken." I'm almost certain it was leftoversI just have no recollection of having eaten it any other day, or preparing it, if we were indeed responsible for it. It might've been undercooked after some time in the oven, as that's the only explanation I can consider. Regardless, it made its way to this sauté pan along with Worcestershire sauce for a proper searing, and a generous amount of ground black pepper.
   Following, it took a bath in Coca-Cola. Yes. There's some sentimental value among my brother and me in using effervescent caffeine beverages (soda) as a cooking ingredient, but to settle things right out, it's simply the flavor that actually made this work. If this remastering saw another remastered moment, the three enhancers might better find themselves combined as a marinade, given the acidity of the soda.

January 27, 2014 - Baked BBQ Chicken Remastered

   The sides for this picnic-reminiscent dish included (clockwise from bottom left) canned beans (wax, kidney and green) with rosemary and black olives, a can of "southern cabbage," and frozen shoepeg corn cooked and burnt to deliberate perfection. The liquid left over from drowning the chicken ended up reducing for the sauce shown.

7.14.2016

Herbal Essence

   In this past week, Jes and I have eaten one roasted cricket (each), more than a taste of kibbeh nayeh (raw ground beef), and I have tried to stomach half a plate of lamb liver (vitamin A-overload!). Backtracking, they go from worst to best: the liver held the flavor of cilantro with the building texture of a grainy film, the kibbeh nayeh shared visual similarities with an uncooked hamburger patty that had been doused in oil and served with raw onions and mint, and the cricket was almost identical to a roasted sunflower kernel.
   There are a few running themes here. "Unconventional" might be one label, "earthy" another. But I see "Middle Eastern cuisine," and in particular, the use of herbs for flavor. Granted, crickets aren't herbs. Those just help bring my mind back to biblical times.

The Good News

   Crickets are edible and have been eaten for millennia. Jes and I have a friend who I've been egging on to bring some for us to try, and he finally did. Also in his box of goodies: cricket flour, which he uses to make "Johnthebaptist bars." It rolls off the tongueliterally. I'm joking; I'm sure they taste great. They're protein bars based on the Scriptures which tell us what John the Baptist ate (Mark 1.6). Whether or not the interpretation should be removed from context is its own story, however. Similar to how "Ezekiel bread" is also popular today; if that recipe were followed to the T (Eze. 4.9-15), I don't think anyone would eat it.

   Eating or consumption in Scripture connotes a sense of "incorporation." Bringing this back to something more palatable [than crickets], bitter herbs are often allegorical of bitter circumstances. Though not Scriptural, Yul Brynner said in The Ten Commandments (1956), "The herbs remind us of the bitterness of our captivity."
   The Passover Seder includes roasted lamb with "bitter herbs" and "bread made without yeast" (Ex. 12.8, Num. 9.11). The first Passover was named for the Jews in Egypt being spared from a death sentence. The herbs were symbolic of the grievous night (Ex. 12.30), the unleavened bread symbolic of haste (Deut. 16.3). The lamb's blood symbolized their being saved from death (Ex. 12.21-23), while eating the lamb itself was the act of offering and sacrificing it (Lev. 23.37-38), and therefore partaking in its symbolism (ref. I Cor. 11.26).
   In Lamentations 3, verses 15 and 19, Jeremiah says: "He has filled me with bitter herbs/ and sated me with gall.... I remember my affliction and my wandering,/ the bitterness and the gall." Matthew 27.34 speaks of gall being mixed with wine, presumably as a form of sedation, and particularly for ingestion by those who are dying. The same event recorded in Mark 15.23 uses the word "myrrh," implying that the actual additive used was simply known for its bitterness. Psalm 69.21 is another Messianic passage that aligns bitter flavor with bitter feelings.
   Now, the correlations throughout Scripture can only get more beautiful. The Messiah was prophesied to be like that lamb offered in sacrifice (Isa. 53.7,10). Not only would he suffer a bitter death (Isa. 53.9), he was gifted and given bitter herbs (Matt. 2.11, John 19.39-40). In John 6, verses 28 through 58, he allied himself to bread and told everyone to partake in his sacrifice (John 6.51). He commanded against yeast (Matt. 16.11-12), and we have been encouraged to make spiritual bread without yeast (I Cor. 5.7-8). He compared himself to manna, which came directly from God (John 6.31-33). Just as blood signified cleansing (Heb. 9.18-22) and life (Lev. 17.11-12), his blood was the source of life (John 6.53-57, 4.13-14). The people around him mistook allegory for madness (John 6.52), but like every prophet before him, he only spoke in allegory (Matt. 13.34-35). The simplest thing he told them was to believe (John 6.28-29,47).

A Different Kind of Oil

   "I am not ashamed of the gospel, because it is the power of God for the salvation of everyone who believes: first for the Jew, then for the Gentile." (Rom. 1.16)
   Returning to the herbs what started this, it's interesting that most herbs are in fact bitter, astringent, or—to be perfectly neutral—strong. I recall taking a course on Medicinal Plants at college, though I can find no evidence for it in the form of homework. I'm sure I have a notebook somewhere. Anyway, what we commonly refer to as "herbs" in the kitchen are the leaves of plants which exhibit  pleasant  flavors or aromas, which notably come in the form of oil.
   This oil is most often exuded from the surface of the plant's leaves—which, by the way, can be a natural pest-deterrent in your garden. Using deer as a prime example, plants with a strong taste or stinging fragrance are avoided by their sensitive noses, so interspersing one's vegetable plot with plants such as rosemary, lavender, oregano and basil can be extremely advantageous in that regard.
   Like tea which has steeped for too long, densely concentrated herbal oils can be distasteful. Tannins play some role in this bitterness, being abundantly present in areas of new growth, but among herbs themselves, some flavors are stronger than others, and especially when dried they can become overly excessive.
   In the debate of fresh vs. dried herbs, I can tell you—only from a consumer's standpoint, mind you—that dried is the way to go. I have wasted so much money through the purchase of fresh herbs that I look forward to simply growing my own one day. For the DIY herb gardeners (and I don't mean the tokers), this source would prove very useful by not only covering the basics of how to dry your garden stock, but also providing you with several methods for infusing their flavors, such as in vinegar, oil, and even sugar.

GG

   My delight in the kitchen is to create flavor combinations using unconventional pairings. As yet, I cannot think of a better way to describe it, but these sorts of meals end up in my honorable mentions, my portfolio. In this particular, mental series, the following marks the third to come about. And it all starts with a choice of meat.

March 9, 2013 - Turkey-touille!

   As the name suggests, this came about as a derivation from ratatouille, showcasing green and yellow squash, and eggplant. But, it's the ground turkey which is responsible for harmonizing all of the other ingredients. I won't go so far to say this was cooked to perfection; far from it, as I don't cook with ground meat often enough to keep it moist. However, it's not the inconsistency of overcooked squash and eggplant beside dry squiggles of turkey which I'm highlighting here—it's not the textures, but the flavors. And the selection of those flavors has some, let me say, "territorial" background.
   What I mean by that is this: Turkey is a game bird. It's traditionally hunted. So, when I think of a live turkey, for better or for worse certain foods come to mind. Gourds, for one. The squash taken care of, there is a certain essence of pumpkin in this pan: its seeds. This isn't exactly the same concept as toasting whole seeds, especially if you're like me and you eat the shell, but the nutty flavor of shelled pumpkin seeds is what ties this dish to some of my other most beloved creations (recipes to follow).
   Black olives, though among my least favorite processed foods (for reasons I'll delve into another day), mark the final ingredient that doesn't fall under the category of spices. I like their tart addition to certain meals, and without them I think turkey-touille would have ended up too sweet, especially for Jes's tastes.
   I don't know what it is with eggplants and cinnamon, but I just love putting them together. Not only is it earthy—and that is a word I would apply to the majority of the flavors here—but it also adds balance to the other piquant spices: powdered ginger, garlic powder and ground pepper. And then, of course, salt. Spices not being herbs, this recipe doesn't actually have herbs in it. If you're wondering, then, why it's here, it's to serve as a segue into the really delectable crème de la crème dinner below.

Scarborough Fair

   If you're looking to make herbs shine, simply pair them with poultry. There's nothing a dense piece of white meat needs more than flavor. Now, I much prefer dark meat if given the choice, but this recipe is all about melding flavors over a slow heat, and white meat can certainly take it.

March 26, 2015 - Unnamed Turkey

   It begins with a frozen turkey breast, and thanks to Jes, it is joined with a splash of water. I don't remember the brand, and it's not my interest to sell it. But, I was pleasantly surprised by how much liquid came out of this by the time it was done.

March 26, 2015 - Unnamed Turkey

   As a precursor to potting the turkey, we charbroiled some choice veggies for that extra layer of yummy goodness: the default carrots, celery, and onions, along with a personally appealing root, turnip. My only complaint was that I insisted on including sliced garlic on that baking sheet. I'm sure the flavor was to be a vital enhancement, but it burned into unrecognizable oblivion. Never have I ever seen such a pure piece of cancer. I tasted it, too, before chucking it. It had a very similar texture to...liver.

March 26, 2015 - Unnamed Turkey

   Enter our good friend Herb. The turkey and vegetables slow-cooked overnight, and the next morning before work we added the famous four: parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme. More than just a good song, these lend their oils well to chicken, so why not turkey? I did choose fresh for these, but I've since changed my position about using fresh herbs. After all, the point in using them is the "medicinal" oil they contain. Dried herbs simply lack water, and oil extracts are even better; the further you go from the fresh leaf, the [generally] higher quality of the flavor you're looking to add, though you'd understandably need a lower quantity added to your meals.
   Alongside these, the final ingredient came in the form of ground black pepper. I don't know why I didn't use peppercorns. Maybe I intended to consume it with the meal. Regardless, something I am always proud of for reasons  untold  unknown: I didn't add salt, during nor after.

March 26, 2015 - Unnamed Turkey

   Ten hours later, this is what we got. Jes, of course, had to deal with these scents wafting from the kitchen all day long. This took a grand total of 22+ hours. It was probably a wholly arbitrary amount, since, whenever we use our slowcooker, it is in between our sleep and work schedule. But I hardly think we could have too much time for this. Thyme, on the other hand, requires better management.

Other sources:
http://nutritiondata.self.com/facts/lamb-veal-and-game-products/4669/2
http://www.biblicalhorizons.com/biblical-horizons/no-24-locusts-and-honey/
http://movie-sounds.org/famous-movie-samples/sound-clips-from-the-ten-commandments-1956/the-herbs-remind-us-of-the-bitterness-of-our-captivity-eleazar
http://www.dictionary.com/browse/gall