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 craft—a 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 leftovers—I 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.

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 tongue—literally. 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

Pasta: Present & Future

   I think it is high time we start a series. There are plenty more stories to tell and several other dishes to discuss; there are still some failures worth highlighting, and eventually we'll even get into the original recipes. But now that the groundwork has been laid, I'd at least like to begin with some of the simpler things to prepare.

   Pasta must be the first thing I've felt confident cooking, and I'd like to believe I share that sentiment with most college students. Whether it's a package of ramen or a box of Kraft mac 'n' cheese, there is so much appeal to having a filling serving within 10 minutes—give or take. And while instant Cup Noodles are still a thing for me, instant mac 'n' cheese never caught on.
   Homestyle mac 'n' cheese gets my attention, but there is a hefty amount of nostalgia waiting beneath that ultra-delicious, likely-synthetic Kraft cheese sauce, such that no matter how many times I'm tempted to even order the over-priced, small-portion versions that so many restaurants offer, my heart always jumps to consider Kraft.

The Pasta Constitution

   For consistency's sake, "pasta," for me, includes everything Italian which comes to mind and everything Asian which usually doesn't. Shirley, other regions' variations also fall into this category (Middle-Eastern cuisine tends to combine pasta with rice; Polish cuisine includes pierogies; Turkey and Hungary make dumplings), but since the word itself originates in Italian, we don't often consider the others in the same light.

Somen Noodles

   "Pasta" comes from the Latin for "dough" (literally "paste"), and therein lies the connection; however, this is different from your typical bread dough because pasta does not traditionally contain a rising agent, such as yeast, etc. The preparation of ramen is unique in that it does rise in order to create a spongelike network, before being dried for packaging. What I see from this, though, is that each culture treated one meal component in vastly different ways, and it shows how versatile pasta truly is.
   Whatever its nationality, pasta is almost always made from wheat. Gluten is the operative factor in pasta, being responsible for the dough's initial elasticity. (Gluten is inherently found within wheat, barley, rye, spelt, and related grains.) Individual wheat pastas can vary greatly by their flour, affecting both their texture (00-grade to whole-wheat) and color (buckwheat in soba noodles).
   When it's not made from wheat, the starch can be obtained from rice, yams, beans, cassava (tapioca), etc. These are naturally gluten-free; however, if they are transported or processed alongside wheat products, they may become contaminated with gluten. Like the callout "may contain traces of peanuts," facilities which process wheat are also mentioned on packaging. Alternatives to gluten often use xanthan gum (bacteria-based) and/or guar gum (plant-based) to produce similar elasticity.
   The other half of pasta is egg, but this actually only comes into play when you're making your own. If gluten is the binding ingredient, egg is used for its moisture. But boxed pastas are dried, and so, most of them don't even contain egg; those are merely fortified flour. Many of them are, however, made in facilities which process eggs, so there is that to consider.

   I did mention that this is simple. As such, in this series of recipes, I'm not at all talking about fresh, homemade pasta—which I have no experience with either directly or through purchasing. If you're looking to make pasta from scratch, I recommend this full-fledged article lovingly explaining the dos and don'ts of the process. After reading that, I honestly look forward to trying it myself. But for all past creations of ours, and those for the foreseeable future, we are strictly talking stiff, mass-produced and pre-packaged pasta.

Layers of Love

   You know I love to address leftovers, so it makes sense that this recipe comes after the rat. I slaved over slicing those vegetables—rounds of tomato, yellow squash, zucchini, baby eggplant, and Anaheim pepper. I actually ended up with so much extra that the baking dish I photographed for the previous recipe was the smaller container. A lot of these were likewise layered in their rosette form within our 5-quart pot. And still, there were leftovers.

PrepaRATions

   So, what became of those remaining slices? Two days later, they made their debut in another dinner party for vegetable lasagna. I love the Stouffer's meal that ShopRite rewards you with during holidays, though I assure you that what follows doesn't stack up nearly as tall.

April 20, 2012 - Vegetable Lasagna

   If this weren't already an amateur attempt, the noodles were labeled "oven-ready." How appropriate for the first recipe in this series, to showcase the most convenient and cheap pasta. There's no shame associated in using it; I just wasn't comfortable with cooking giant noodles to al dente perfection—and so you know, I haven't made lasagna since.
   The first layer to go down is usually the sauce. If not, it's oil. Here, it was probably just puree, as I'd used for the ratatouille. After that went three oven-ready lasagna noodles, ricotta along two of them (explanation follows), and yellow squash and zucchini rounds over that. The order of vegetables doesn't really matter, and the selection can be replaced with broccoli, carrot, etc. One-third of this lasagna was made to be free-of-cheese, because when Jes and I first met, we suspected that she may have had lactose-intolerance or some other disability which was affected by dairy. (We're still waiting to discover the real issue, but that explains why some of our meals avoid cheese). And, I'm not one for using substitutes, so that third was nothing more than pasta primavera in the end.

April 20, 2012 - Vegetable Lasagna

   The sauce restarts the layering, followed by three more noodles, more ricotta, zucchini and eggplant rounds, and shredded mozzarella—again, along the two-thirds. By this point, the cheese-less side was starting to look rather shallow.

April 20, 2012 - Vegetable Lasagna

   The final layer (over sauce, noodles and ricotta) took the vegetable remainder: more zucchini, yellow squash, and the delicate tomatoes. More mozzarella was added before chopped basil, dried oregano and ground pepper topped the whole plate. You can tell I was skimping on some of these ingredients, which is one reason why I'm not including measurements: if you think it deserves more, go for it. The other reason, you might have guessed, is because I honestly don't know. But, if I could go back and change one thing, I'd probably layer this twice as high, at least. Which, of course, would call for more vegetables than I had ready.

April 20, 2012 - Vegetable Lasagna

   I do not believe I covered this. Ideally, lasagna should be covered with foil for the greater length of its cook-time, and uncovered for a short time following for that nice, browned-cheese effect. For specifics, 350 degrees for 30 minutes is about par, with 10 additional minutes uncovered. Temperature may vary to 375 or 400 degrees, and timing may vary from 25 to 45 minutes depending on the ingredients (cream sauce, meat, etc.). If these vegetables had been chunkier, that may have been reason enough to kick up the heat.
   For that additional time, I added our wonderfully lumpy grated parmesan to the top. I can't say that a plated slice was presentable. Then again, that's usual in my experience with lasagna. But it was worth the minimal effort it took to assemble, and that's about all it takes to please most people. Texture? sloppy. Taste? smooth. Room for improvement? definitely. Will you see it here? probably not.

Other Recipes in this Series:
Ruth's Pasta Salad
Baked Spaghetti with Cheesy Garlic Bread
Deconstructed Shrimp Alfredo
Shrimp Ramen