Boing Boing featured a link about cutlery made out of potato starch. They're made in the UK. They provide economic, sustainable alternatives to disposable plastic kitchenware.
Any questions?
Surely all the green folks will love this development. But I'm thinking about who will wash the potato starch cutlery? That's the thing about plastic/disposable cutlery: It's disposable. Nothing to clean up.
Several posts ago I mentioned my dad & step-mom's 25th wedding anniversary vow renewal and reception. I was in on a small bit of the planning. I contributed veggie plates. Suzanne asked me to bring three. When I told my mother-in-law about what I was bringing, she mentioned how expanive those pre-prepared ones are at the grocery stores. But, I wasn't so much worried about the cost because my concern was time, or lack thereof. I found one medium-to-large-sized veggie tray at Kroger. They had smaller ones in the back.
The one I bought was $19.99. I fumed. It included radishes, brocolii, cauliflower, baby carrots, sliced green bell peppers, a few cucumber slices, and dip in the middle.
My next stop was at K-Mart (have I mentioned I don't do Walmart?). It's a superstore. I don't know if they make them regular-like anymore. First place my buggy rolled was by the deli area. No veggie trays cooling anywhere. The situation grew serious. No more searching for pre-assembled platters. It came down to doing it all myself. I didn't find exactly the platter I wanted, but selected two blue glass Martha plates and matching bowls for dip holding. I bought broccoli, cauliflower, cherry tomatoes, celery, radishes, cucumbers, two already-made dips, two 8oz containers of sour cream and a box of onion soup mix. Oh yeah, I found adorable kitchen curtains with crocheted berries and fruit dripping down it's hem, $9.99 each; haven't hanged them yet.
The other Kroger, on my side of town, was on my home, so I stopped there and found the most lovely peppers imaginable: red, yellow, orange, and green. It seems I bought something else there, but it probably wasn't relevent to this veggie plate project. Then I came home, emptied my grocery bags and pulled out my favorite chef's knife and cutting board. I love spending time in the kitchen, especially when there are knives involved. And despite how pickled my figers were after cuttting veggies for 2 or 3 hours, I suffered no cuts.
The problem with working in the kitchen is that I've got to have a camera
nearby. That's inaccurate. It's not a problem unless I'm in a hurry. I'm always circling my prey intent on capturing the best shot. After this "shoot" the sad viewfinder was covered in pepper juice. I had to wipe it down. Veggies, and fruit, too, fascinate me. The patterns in the felsh mesmerize me. I peered inside each pepper I sliced to see the seeds and bulbous innards. And radishes, too. I eat them rarely, so I don't get to study them. I never noticed the subtle pattern of the white when you cut into one vertically.
And the eroticism of bell peppers? Who knew? I was enraptured. Still am. Finished up. Kept a pile of not quite good enough for veggie plate cast offs to feed the dogs. They love veggies, except for celery. They chew until the crunchy is no more and then spit it out onto the floor. No more celery for them. It just makes a mess in the floor. Store-bought veggie tray was already in the fridge. After covering both plates well with wrap, I found room for them as well. Then I rested. Next day Ian was sweet to load the veggie trays into the car ahead of time. We drove 40-some minutes to Scott County, Virginia, pulled into the Ruritan parking lot, stopped, and I started carrying veggie plates inside. There were already veggie plates there. Turns out Suzanne told my cousin Tracey to bring three veggie trays as well. We were both put out. Funny thing is that she bought her trays at the evil walmart and they were $24.95 each. Pricey. One of my trays joined the others on the table. Jessica (my sister) and I were recruited to serve cake. Flirty-saleswoman personality came out then:
Would you like white cake or chocolate?
Not having cake, I exclaimed, you must be too sweet already... Flirting with all those sweet old women and men made my day.
The white cake was good. Moist. It crumbled mightily when I served it. Jess and I shared a long cake knife. I tried not to woman-handle folks pieces of cake too much as I dropped them onto their plates. It was trying. Jess served chocolate. I left the camera in the car. For once I wanted to enjoy everything and not be so wrapped up in getting the perfect shot.
Monday I took the Korger-bought veggie tray to work and gnawed most of the borcolli for lunch. Ian nibbles the carrots, but first he douses them with hot sauce he bought somewhere in KY or SC. His other new trick is pouring a bunch of shelled peanuts in a small container, squirting them with this hot sauce and swirling both until sauce covers peanuts. He eats it. Hasn't done it at home as far as I know. It's a locomotive-only manuever.
Now the veggie saga comes to an end. I'm making three kinds of soup from the 2.5 veggie plates. One is veggie everything soup. Another used up most of the broccoli, the yellow potatoes I had sitting in a bowl, and a bag of dried shitake mushrooms. The last is a pepper soup. I sauteed garlic and butter, added chicken broth and peppers. I may thrust my braun hand blender in the pot to make a super-smooth soup. My house smells like cooking food. Having three burners going at once created a greenhouse effect. It's warm.
Just in time for Easter I bought this groovy egg platter and the bunny dish that rests in its center. It's available at any Hallmark store near you. When I brought it home Ian commented, We don't dip our eggs in anything. I know we don't, but I thought the bunny bowl went with and thought I needed it. I wasn't quick enough to come back with how perfect a spot it is for black olives. The Stokes like their black olives. There's usually a wrestling match at the table to determine who gets the last one. That's also the case for deviled eggs. For months and months--maybe even a year or two now-- I've dropped hint after hint about how much I want an egg plate. I send email to Ian from various online purveyors with messages like what a great egg plate this would make for me. Somehow never gets around to getting me the egg plate of my dreams. This one is not, but it will do. Another thing is that I invited all the Stokes over for Easter dinner. My pastel-colored, plastic drugstore variety egg plate won't cut it.
Quite a few days after St. Patrick's Day I made a Shepherd's Pie. Only time I've eaten one, or two, was when I've visited Irish pubs. The first was in Wilmington, NC and the next was in Nashville, TN. I've been to other Irish pubs, but don't regularly get the Shepherd's Pie. Each week I receive the Epicurious mailer in my inbox. Right prior to St. Patty's Day, which is my wee lass of a sister and my's favorite holiday, the mailer included a recipe for Shepherd's Pie. Naively I decided to make this dish for Ian and me the Sunday after the celebratin' of the green. I'll not include the recipe written out like, but shall point you to the proper place for it.
Mostly I've got to complain. First, I didn't read the recipe through, so I had no idea how complex and time consuming the preparations for this dish were. It took at least three big pots to cook it in. First I prepared the meat. That had to cook an hour and a half. I didn't have venison or a pork shank. Neither were found at my grocery. I used stew meat instead. The few pounds of venison cube steaks I have courtesy of my Papaw, are not fit for eating. They've lodged in my freezer for going on two years, maybe three. Can't bring myself to throw them out though. Otherwise, it'd look like I have nothing in there.
While the meat cooked I worked on roasting a garlic clove. It wasn't a whole garlic clove. As I readied my garlic for the meat stage I realized that most of my cloves, but virtue of hanging out at room temperature, had sprouted. The potatoes boiled. Yet, I had no curds to add to them. Days earlier with grocery list in hand, I contemplated a cottage cheese substitution in the dairy aisle, but declined. In the end, I added about 3 ounces of asiago cheese. That is not all with the potato mess. I don't have a ricer. I could have done without and used my traditional potato masher. But I thought pressing the roasted garlic and potatoes through a sieve would work. It might be more authentic, more in the spirit of a true Shepherd's Pie, perhaps. It quickly grew odious. I called to Ian for help. He has upper body strength, you know. He worked at it about ten minutes until I said it would be fine. I've sought potato ricers on several occasions now, just so I'm never without appropriate kitchen equipment again, but have not found one. It's not at Quest proportions yet; mostly I browse a store's kitchen section only if I think to do so. Ironically, I searched for one early tonight at Target, but none hanged on their shelves. Yet, in searching for image of potato ricer, one appears from Target. How can that be? Another problem: we were out of milk. I was supposed to add it to either the potato or corn mixture, or both (wait for it, it's coming up). Ian drank all the milk, but I didn't think he told me. He did a few days prior. It slipped my mind. He offered to dress and drive out for a quart (this was Sunday about 2 p.m. he was still in his robe playing half-life 2 or some such on Xbox). I told him no. I used whipping cream and half & half. It would do.
Then I arrived at the corn mixture. Alas, I had no more cloves of garlic. Silently cursing, I stomped through the kitchen to the den and informed Ian I'd have to go to the store, did he want anything? I bought the needed garlic cloves and a few other things like Bachelor's Buttons, my favorite cookie. Plus, I picked up one of those dreadful already-prepared boxes of chicken tenders from the deli. Ian needed a snack because I told him we wouldn't eat until close to 5 p.m. My preparations for the pie began around 1 p.m. I came home and unloaded my grocery bounty.
Finally, to the corn mixture: More onions? I didn't get any at the store. I forgot the onions and prepared my garlic. Dry white wine? Do I have dry white wine? There was Hogue chardonnay on hand. My corkpops didn't remove the cork. I called for Ian. It's not that I couldn't woman-handle the thing myself. I'm all about self-preservation. If my corkpops was gonna blow, I didn't want it to blow on me. Isn't that the spirit? He thought it might not work because the "cork" wasn't cork, but that faux cork. I think the gas fizzled out and needed replacing. I dug around in the drawer for a sad corkscrew, the kind attached to a can-opener with a magnet on back that you can keep handy hanging on the fridge door? So then, there was all this reduction of the white wine and garlic. My patience wore thin. Then the other ingredients were added, including the last of the half & half and maybe a bit of the whipping cream. The rest went well. But, there was more waiting as the creamy corn sauce reduced. After removing the rosemary twigs I dug out the blender, poured the hot liquid into the the glass part, stuck the lid on, and liquefied the mixture.
The meat awaited the toppings in the casserole dish. This was the easy part. Pour corn mixture over meat. Then those potatoes I kept warm on the back burner were spooned atop that. I added a dash of paprika so the dish featured at least two colors of the Irish flag, sort of. In hindsight, I would have tinted tinted the potatoes green with food coloring to affect a more aesthetic and festive appearance. It cooked the appropriate amount of time. I liked it. I had seconds. Was it worth all the effort? Ian rather spoiled my sense of accomplishment though; he doesn't like rosemary. It tasted too much of rosemary. Sadly, I thought he'd love this dish. At least I don't ever have to make it again because he loved it so.
The offending bottle of chardonnay and corkspops.
Say you're dating a new person and you're at their house. How can you asses your compatibility? Look inside their fridge. Does dating someone who labels everything and stacks containers alphabetically weird you out? Me too. What if all you see are condiments? That's somebody who like to eat out. And, the green growing atop leftovers, what does that tell you? R.B. Quinn at the Nashville Tennessean clues us into what it all means in his article "Checking out your date by checking out what's in their fridge."
Referring to having a knack with baked goods as having a white thumb is news to me. Would you want a brown thumb if you were a chocolatier? There are new baking toys, that's how this came up at all. New. Baking. Toys. They're mostly silicone; the wonder product. Accompanying this NYTimes article are recipes for Pear Pie with Brown Sugar and Pepper, Juicy Orange Cake, and Toasted Walnut Cookies. The writer's and Little Helpers are listed as well in case there's an urge of some kind to shop in this holiday madness.
Mark Bittman touts cast iron cookware in the NYTimes. It's superior and cheap. What else could you ask for from a skillet? It seems that most folks are put off cast iron because it's heavy and you have to season it before using it regularly. I remember the days when that was the only pan anybody I knew used. Besides cooking crispy fried chicken for Sunday dinners, my maternal grandmother popped corn kernels in hers. She coated the bottom with vegetable oil. Covered the bottom in kernels and turned on the heat. Once the corn started popping she kept a lid over top to keep the popcorn in check. And my paternal grandfather, former Navy cook and big-game hunter that he was, fried up venison steaks in his cast iron skillet.
It's been a few years since I visited a flea market, but I noticed a lot of cast ironware for sell there. I didn't check prices, but around these parts it's likely to be cheap.
Absolutely the last thing I'll post tonight is my rant about the condition of a book received via the mail. I ordered Harold McGee's On Food and Cooking: The Science and Lore of the Kitchen for Andrew for christmas (it's what I specifically celebrate, otherwise I refer to the upcoming time of year as holidays for general purposes). While wrapping another book for Ian's belated birthday since his main gift isn't here from Omaha, I glanced at the McGee book and was horrified at the state it arrived in. First, the book's cover (it is softcover) is marled or nudged; I have no clue which technical term describes it's state. After fiddling with it a bit I made it presentable, but then (it's like a bad horror flick only without the suspense-building music) I realized that something nasty happened to the book before it made it into the box that arrived at my home.
What it was I just dunno. It appeared to have been dredged across a puddle of something. icky. Returning it is pointless. I'll have to keep it. It was a questionable gift for Andrew anyway. He rarely reads. Ian thought the last book his brother was given, and probably read, was that Howard Stern book that came out a decade ago. But, Andrew likes cooking meat and he enjoys quality kitchen utensils and so I imagined this book could tempt him. Snapping just the right shot of the damage was difficult. I'm not sure that the photo does justice to the damage.
Two new kitchen accouterments added to my collection of useful things. First, this lovely strainer/sieve. What's so perfect about this device is that it fits almost any size sink. It's "arms" extend and retract. I can't wait to use it for pasta and veggies and anything else I can think of. Aaah, it calls itself a "Stainless Steel Strainer."
The other lovely item I picked up is a colander. I love them. And, it's pretty enough to just look at, but I'm not that kind of girl. I'll have to use it. I ache for one of those sparkly pot racks that one hangs from the ceiling. Aleda has one that I covet and she told me where she found it, but I haven't made a trip there yet. So yeah, my colander is plain jane stainless steel, but Crate and Barrel has green and orange melamine colanders that add color to any kitchen. Seems I saw colored metal ones at TJ Maxx a long time ago. Wish now I'd bought them as decorative pieces.
Here are C&B colanders: 
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