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GOOD TO KNOW: White corn meal = Best corn bread. Evah.
It’s all about the blonde!
So tonight we had easy fish stew for dinner and I decided to make the usual corn bread to accompany. Imagine my surprise when I retrieved the old reliable Indian Head corn meal from the pantry only to find I’d picked up white corn meal rather than the usual yellow during my last trip to Fairway!
You know, btw I hate Fairway. I swear their floor plan is designed to induce psychosis. For example:
ME: “Excuse me, where might I find the cinnamon?”
FAIRWAY GUY: “Well it depends what kind you want. You can get it in aisle 5 with the imported spices or back in the produce section with the Spanish seasonings. We also have some in the organic food area of our annex, or you could just mosey over to aisle 114B where there should be some next to the domestic pie filling.”
ME: “I’ve been running around here for thirty minutes in search of one freaking jar of cinnamon. I don’t even know where I am and will need a St Bernard and a gallon of whiskey just to make it to the check out. Can you just get me some goddamned cinnamon?”
FG: “Ma’m, have you been drinking?”
It’s always the same.
Anyways, I was feeling far too lazy to run down the the Las Americas bodega to get the usual yellow product, so I threw caution to the wind, poured another glass of wine and decided to roll with the white stuff. One of these years I’m going to get a working camera to share the fruits of my labors, but until then, you’ll just have to take the word of the Slattern family that the white cornmeal makes a far superior corn bread. Lighter, finer and altogether more pleasing. It’s not difficult to make — just use the recipe on the back of the sack.
If you’re too lazy to click the link, read on to see the recipe just as it appears on their site. Foolproof.
Sandy part deux
Just when you thought it was safe to go back to the Slattern’s Kitchen…
You thought I was done with Sandra Lee, didn’t you? Well at the suggestion of my new BFF, Baker Bettie, I had a look at the video of Sandy’s “war crime” (in the words of Anthony Bourdain), aka the Kwanzaa cake, and I feel compelled to share. Now, I don’t know how I managed to miss this, but it is absolutely mesmerizing in its repulsiveness. Look:
Is it the poisonous acorns (no they are NOT edible)? The revolting canned icing? The glutinous apple pie filling from the can? Hard to say. And I should know by now; I’ve already watched the damned thing six times. The horror, the horror…
Semi homemade. Completely inedible.
It’s the death of fresh food.
I’m all about convenience and shortcuts: pie crust mix instead of scratch crust, poaching salmon in the microwave, screw top wine, what have you. As long as the food (or drink) is still tasty and relatively nutritious, I say go for the easy way, and I always do. So whenever possible in the kitchen I choose the path of least resistance, but we all have to draw the line somewhere, and for me Sandra Lee’s godawful lasagna – in addition to her entire oeuvre, empire and philosophy really – is the ne plus ultra of kitchen crimes. Why, you ask? What could be so bad? She seems like a nice enough gal and she’s apparently making money hand over fist with her…how shall I say…“approach” to cooking, largely I assume because of her shameless brand promotion McCormick*.
courtesy yumsugar.com (no i did not make that up)
OK, first: You cannot trust a skinny cook; they could not possibly eat what they’re flogging. Imagine Giada taking more than a token mouthful of fettuccini carbonara Olive Garden*or Sandra Lee hoovering up a big plate of her granny’s special lasagna Prince*. Hardly likely. Clearly Anthony Bourdain stays slim by virtue of his cigarette, cricket and iguana intensive diet, so he doesn’t count. Besides, everyone knows those intestinal parasites you pick up when you drop off the grid really speed up your digestion and make keeping the weight off a cinch. Anyways, I love him. And Padma, well you see her chew, but can you recall her ever swallowing? I’ll leave it at that.
So Sandra Lee has made millions of dollars flogging recipes like lasagna made with tomato soup Campbell’s*, cottage cheese no brand?!* and shredded mozzarella Sargento*. Check out the recipe if you don’t believe me.
Back so soon? Are you okay? I told you it was unbelievable. The food looks like something you’d see in the chow line at the women’s penitentiary, and let me tell you, you could not trade a cigarette for it let alone a bar of soap. It could also pass for the result of a brainstorming meeting at Taco Bell where they decided to branch out from Mexican into Italian while adhering to the same stringent quality standards their customers have come to expect, meaning of course, successful digestion of the product requires a third world gastro-intestinal tract, post apocalyptic colon fauna, and a complete absence of the gag reflex.
Guess who’s coming to dinner?
Cold poached salmon for emergencies. Or every day.
A friend of mine recently called in a panic. It seems her fiancé had run into an old girlfriend from whom he parted on amicable terms and had – wait for it now – invited her to have dinner. At their apartment!
Hey hon, guess who I ran into today?
Gentlemen, just in case you’re wondering what the problem is here, let me enlighten you: We may say this kind of situation is just fine, and occasionally we may even mean it (if your ex has gained 100 pounds or married George Clooney, though it’s probably too much to hope that she’s done both), but as a general rule it is not okay, especially if she (or he) is still single. If you must consort with former flames, at least have the decency to book an expensive restaurant and suggest that your life partner spend some quality time at Bloomingdales accompanied by your Visa and warmed by the glow of your effusive apologies and genuine remorse. Failing that, you’d best offer to cook or be willing to order takeout from 21 (think Grace Kelly in Rear Window).
courtesy doctormacro.com
As none of the above had gone down, I suggested the following to the soon-to-be Mrs. Deadbeat. “Turn that frown upside down and look upon it as an opportunity to shine.” Yeah, sure I did. What I really advised was to pull out the big guns: Manolos and a black dress, expensive wines and the easiest menu possible. Then I offered to let her borrow my big diamond earrings, the ones I got after Mr. Slattern invited HIS old flame to dinner many years ago – on a work night. It was then that I developed this life saver: cold poached salmon with yogurt dill sauce, and it worked a treat for my pal too.
Ice wine harvest endangered!
Up to now I’ve been somewhat agnostic on the causes of global warming, but this news has decided the issue for me. Something must be done! Apparently the late frost up north this year has imperiled the frozen grape harvest that produces ice wines.
Now, if you’re not familiar with these lovely offerings, you can read all about them here. Or you can just rely on my unscientific summary, which is as follows: certain grapes are allowed to freeze on the vine, then are harvested and made into sweet wines. They’re pricey, but they come in small bottles and you’re supposed to sip rather than swill them, so the occasional splurge (dinner for the boss, entertaining George Clooney, intentionally pissing off your mother-in-law with your spendthrift ways) is okay. They can be drunk with dinner or dessert, but I like them paired with cheeses. Think special appetizers or a cheese course between the meal and the dessert. Or, if you’re entertaining non-sweet eaters, this is the perfect thing to serve in place of dessert.
Pairing ice wine with food can be tricky, but the good folks at Inniskillin Winery have gone to great trouble to lay it all out for you. If you’ve never tried it, don’t be put off by the sweetness of the wine — it’s the perfect counterbalance to cheeses, from mild to stinky. Trust me, you’ll never ruin a perfectly good gorgonzola with a glass of Cabernet again.
Kitchen Slattern 