13 tagged with #food

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Last Call for Winter


There's ice on the inside of the kitchen window again but that doesn't stop the dog from burying her excessively long snout into the back of my legs to direct me towards the door the moment I am out of bed. I'm sure she's already forgotten how cold the ground outside is, since it's been hours since her morning pee. And yet, once her leash is clipped into place and she reaches the concrete, she pulls her feet away as if bitten, and no dance she performs can keep all four feet off the ground at once.

We walk miles, and soon, she forgets the pain. I envy her; we tried to climb a slab of cold New England granite on the first day of the year, and once my hands froze to the wall, I had to abort.

I've had to make two trips to the grocery store because despite a bag of lemons being the reason I went in the first place, I managed to forget to pick one up. Instead, my first run included bananas, apples, cheese, butter, oatmeal, and peanut butter, while my second run was solely for fourteen small lemons. It will take us perhaps two weeks to finish them.

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13 March 2014 20:37


Black Bean Pot


The following things go into a crock pot:

  • 1 lb. black beans, soaked overnight with a splash of rice vinegar, not drained
  • 1.5 lb. 80/20 ground beef, browned with black pepper, not drained
  • 3 bell peppers, diced
  • 1 large onion, diced
  • 1 russet potato, diced
  • 5-6 scoops chicken powder
  • 1.5 tablespoons fucking hot crushed chili flakes
  • 1 tablespoon garlic powder

Leave the house to avoid being tortured for 8-10 hours. Eat it mixed with brown rice and diced cheddar.

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12 March 2014 17:44


Yves


The secret to good bread is patience. It's patience, and an unrelenting firmness of hand and character. A dough will never rise to its fullest potential if it is taken out too early, but a dough neglected falls apart in the hands, while forming a dried upper surface that is impossible to integrate into the rest.

Yves is more of a pet than an ingredient. Yves is a living organism, one that needs careful feeding and whispers of encouragement. A long time ago, a piece of dough was nicked from a San Francisco sourdough bakery and raised in New England, divided into countless splinter colonies and distributed over the years. We've been raising Yves for seven months, after dozens of batches of nonviable dough that came before we reached an understanding.

The dough will never flatten into the correct shape for proper bread without a patient approach and a firm hand. It springs back quickly if unattended, but rolls onto itself and wrinkles if rushed. There's a rhythm to the stretching and shaping actions that I've learned for this flour, this water this altitude, this yeast colony. I know when the little jar needs to be pulled from the fridge to awaken Yves so that the last piece of old bread is consumed as the first batch of fresh dough enters the oven.

But for a starting point, it is as follows:

  • 1.5 pounds plain flour
  • 1/2 tsp salt
  • just under 2 cups warm water that includes yeast mixture

Knead until firm; cover and rise for twelve hours. Knead gently after rising, split into twelve pieces. Roll as flat as possible, without breaking through. Oven-bake on broil for a few minutes; remove when the upper crust starts to brown. Let cool; store wrapped in a light fabric and in a quiet place, or devour on the spot.

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23 February 2014 18:47


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