Hate- A Four Letter Word

Dear Tia Fia-

That Sausage Lentil soup looks so GOOD. Lentils I don't have much experience with, but sausage is one of my favorites. I am going to try the soup this week- do you make your own beef broth or buy it? The soup and the poem both brightened my day: although we haven't hit super low temps in Chicago, it gets dark at 4:55. We see no sun.

I thought a lot about the KKK after you mentioned them last week; the picture you posted stood in stark contrast to my impression of them as impotent, uneducated, probably inbred, hick hate-mongers who like to appear on Jerry Springer. It's lucky, for them, that those white hoods hide so many IMPERFECTIONS. It's bad, for us, that their headwear demands such feelings of fear and intimidation.

Speaking of hate, I loathe what most Mid-Westerners call Fall Favorites. In this list, I place beets, butternut squash, acorn squash, yams, and any pumpkin foodstuff. I've probably neglected to name them all, but if it's a vegetable and somebody is willing to pour maple syrup on it- Don't get it near me! Really, my thinking is too rigid to include sweet/savory side dishes when all I really want is spicy. But B, the liberal and flexible side of this duo, keeps asking me to include the above in my weekly repertoire. Begrudgingly, I found this tart in Puff Pastry Perfection, another generous gift from my mom. It includes puff pastry (I swear this is the real God's gift to women) and goat cheese. Two things I love and then the squash for B.




Butternut Squash and Farmer's Cheese Tart

1/2 of a 17.3- ounce package of frozen puff pastry, thawed for 30 minutes
3 tablespoons of unsalted butter
12 ounces of butternut squash, cut into 1/2-inch cubes (about 2 3/4 cups)
3 garlic cloves, minced
salt
pepper
1/8 teaspoon of allspice
4 ounce of crumbled farmer's, feta, or goat cheese
1 green onion chopped

Line a cookie sheet with parchment paper. On a lightly floured surface roll out the puff pastry to a 10 inch square. Place pastry on cookie sheet and refrigerate for a least 20 minutes.

Meanwhile, in a large skillet on medium heat melt the butter. Add squash and saute five minutes. Add garlic, salt, and pepper and saute until squash is soft, 1-2 minutes. Stir in allspice and additional salt and pepper to taste. Cool to room temperature. (This can be prepped 2 days ahead if you want to make this a quick week-night meal.)

Preheat oven to 400.

Sprinkle three-fourths of the cheese on the pastry, leaving a 1-inch border. Arrange squash mixture on top. Sprinkle with remaining cheese.

Bake tart for 20-25 minutes or until edge is puffed and golden. Sprinkle with green onion. Serve warm or at room temperature. Makes 4 servings.

Have you tried anything from Puff Pastry Perfection?


Love,
TT

Thinking of Flowers

Dear Tia Tay,

I have been shamelessly negligent in my letter writing lately! I don't have any excuses, either, so I won't bore you with made-up ones. I'm so glad that you and the little arroz have recovered from your bout with H1N1 - I got to experience being terrified and relieved all in one strange surge of emotion as I read your letter. It was a pretty confusing moment for me, and J couldn't understand why my face looked as though I had eaten something horribly disagreeable (like stewed carrots, for example, ugh) but seemed to enjoy it.

While you've been considering huge philosophical issues of mortality and responsibility, I've been doing a lot of staring out the window and thinking about the KKK. Random, right? But they've been supposedly handing out leaflets in the suburbs, reminding me that I live in a city that still bears the scars of being the former capital of the confederacy. This picture I came across in my googling about them haunts me, since it was taken here in Richmond. It sounds idealistic, I know, but I feel so helpless sometimes about how difficult it is be human, as you know from your recent experience with being physically ill while pregnant!

But how amazing to be human - and to know that inside you another human life is growing, and to know that you will literally bear it, and tend to it as you have the flowers filling their pots on your balcony. Speaking of flowers, I thought I'd share this poem with you so we can both fortify ourselves against the coming cold of winter, and against the forces in the world that might otherwise scare us so:

February: Thinking of Flowers
by Jane Kenyon (from Otherwise)

Now wind torments the field,
turning the white surface back
on itself, back and back on itself,
like an animal licking a wound.

Nothing but white - the air, the light;
only one brown milkweed pod
bobbing in the gully, smallest
brown boat on the immense tide.

A single green sprouting thing
would restore me . . .

Then think of the tall delphinium,
swaying, or the bee when it comes
to the tongue of the burgundy lily.

Speaking of green sprouting things, I made some lentil soup on Sunday and just heated up and topped a big bowl of it with a handful of arugula. . .

. . . since I probably need more than poetic fortification for an afternoon of errand running in the rainy cold.

Sausage, Lentil, and Red Onion Soup

1 cup or more of dried lentils
4 cups beef stock
1 lb. chicken sausage, cut into slices
1 large red onion, chopped
2-4 cloves of garlic, minced
a few handfuls or arugula, spinach, kale, or whatever other greens
1 tbsp. olive oil

In a dutch oven, bring lentils and stock to a boil, then turn the heat down to low. Simmer for about an hour.

Thirty minutes later, brown sausage in pan. Add onions and continue to cook, stirring occasionally for about 5 minutes, or until onions are softened. Add garlic and cook for a minute longer. Add greens, cooking until slightly wilted.

Pour sausage mixture into lentil mixture and stir until incorporated. Cook over low heat for another 20-25 minutes, or until lentils are soft.

Roll up the last (sob) of your secret stash of HEB tortillas that you bought on your last visit to Tejas, where tortillas is serious business . . .

. . . and dip into soup. Eat. Repeat.

Hope you, little arroz, and B are staying dry and warm -

Love you,

TF

Dinner, Interrupted

Dear Tia Fia,

First let me say (as I'm jumping up and down and doing that high-pitched girl thing) "You submitted your book, you really did it, I'm so proud of you!" Hugs and more jumping- just to convey how excited I am. I can only imagine that when the Powers at the Publishing House recieve your manuscript they will stand up dramatically, raise the poems above their heads and intone, "This my friends, this is it. Our quest is over."

My Sunday started out a lot like yours. B played hooky from his homework and asked me to watch the Bears game with him. I'm guessing he was inspired to ask me on a date because I hadn't made that awful dry-heave noise in the last 48 hours. I felt so GOOD (except this little cough that I tried not to think about) that I hot-rolled my hair, put on eye-liner and even wore my largest, most purple, f-me earrings:

.

Our day went as planned, Bears and bar food at Bar on Buena, window shopping at Broadway and Belmont, and then a bus ride home. At that point, I was feeling a little tired, but didn't think much of it- I've been tired for a good three months now. When we got home, I started to make dinner. B has pleaded for Pozole Roja for the last year and I'd finally decided to make some. I chopped onions, seared the pork and dumped in the chicken broth- just as I left it to braise in the stove, I felt the first of the CHILLS.

I don't know if everybody gets them, but I know when I can't move my arm without feeling like I just plunged into Barton Springs pool I've got a temp that's about to rise a few degrees. First, I thought "swine flu". Second, I thought "I'm going to die." I know, Tia F, I know that seems dramatic, but the fear was reinforced when I googled H1n1 Chicago; I'd just wanted to see if there was an outbreak. Do you know what the first headline to appear was? Just guess. Chicago: 25 Year Old Pregnant Woman Dies of Swine Flu on Friday. Reassuring, right? B and I then both look at each other, grab our respective cell phones, he calls the doctor and I call my family. Both of them tell us to go straight to the ER. We made sure the stove was turned off, gathered up our things, and quickly hailed a cab.

We were at the ER for a good six hours, not much of note happened, except that I got put on an IV, they diagnosed me with swine flu, they took x-rays of my lungs then diagnosed me with pneumonia, then gave me a ton of medication that is safe for our little Arroz and would make me feel better within days. Whew! Close call.

Rewind to two weeks earlier. I've wracked up a number of absences(all that icky morning sickness) and I'm participating in a meeting that ends with me signing a warning that states "two more absences and I'll be fired." Uhhggg. So in the past month I've been written up several times at a job I can't afford to lose (this has never happened), I've seen my ob/gyn more than my friends, and I've spent some time in the ER, another first for me.

I just wanna demand, "Alright LIFE- Just Stop Where You Are!" I do not want to learn this lesson on vulnerability. My fantasy pregnancy life involved a beautifully painted nursery, hand-holding with B, and cute little kicks in my abdomen. I never imagined how defenseless it would make me to financial and physical forces outside of my control. But that's life, right? I better buck up and bear it. And while I'm at it- I better finish that Pozole that I started.




Pozole Rojo

Stew
1 bone-in picnic shoulder roast
Salt and ground black pepper
2 tablespoons vegetable oil
2 medium- large onions, chopped coarse
5 medium garlic cloves, minced or pressed through a garlic press
1 (14.5-ounce) can diced tomatoes
1 tablespoon chopped fresh oregano
6 cups low-sodium chicken broth
2 ounces dried ancho chiles
11/2 cups boiling water
3 (15-ounce) cans white or yellow hominy, drained and rinsed

Garnishes
2 limes, cut into quarters
1/2 head of cabbage (the recipe says lettuce, but I think that's because they're based in Maine)
6 radishes
1 small onion
1/4 cup pureed ancho chiles
soft flour or corn tortillas


1) Heat the oven to 300 degrees. Trim the thick skin and excess fat from the meat and cut along the muscles to divide the roast into large pieces of various sizes; reserve the bones. Season the meat generously with salt and pepper to taste.

2) Heat the oil in a large ovenproof Dutch oven over medium heat until shimmering. Add the onions and 1/4 teaspoon salt. Cook, stirring frequently, until the onions have softened, about 4 minutes. Stir in the garlic and cook until fragrant, about 30 seconds.

3) Add the meat and bones and stir often until it is no longer pink on the outside, about 8 minutes. Add the tomatoes, oregano, broth and 1/2 teaspoon salt. Increase the heat to medium high and bring to a simmer. With a large spoon, skim off any scum. Cover the pot and place it in the oven. Cook until the meat is very tender, about 2 hours.

4) Meanwhile, remove the stems and seeds from the ancho chiles; soak the chiles in a medium bowl with the boiling water until soft, about 20 minutes. Puree the chiles and soaking liquid in a blender until smooth. Pour the puree through a strainer into a bowl and reserve 1/4 cup of the pureed anchos for garnish.

5) Remove the pot from the oven and remove the meat and bones to a cutting board. Stir in the hominy and the remaining 3/4 cup ancho chile puree Cover and bring the stew to a simmer on top of the stove over medium-low heat. Cook until the hominy is hot and the flavors meld, about 30 minutes.

6) When the meat is cool, shred it using your fingers or the tines of two forks; discard the bones. Stir the shredded meat into the stew. If serving immediately, spoon off any fat that rises to the top and then simmer until the meat is hot, about 10 minutes. (The stew can be covered and refrigerated for up to 3 days. Spoon off the hardened fat and bring back to a simmer over medium-low heat.) Adjust the seasonings. Ladle the stew into individual bowls and serve immediately with the garnishes.

This one was WAY long. I'll try never to have to catch you up this much again.

Love,
TT

Show Me the (Papri)kash

Dear Tia T.,

It's my turn to apologize; I've been slow to write as well. As a child, I would tell my mother that I would clean my room, help do the dishes, or make my bed in "just five more minutes," at which point I would continue to bury my nose in whatever novel I was reading. Five more minutes would inevitably become ten, then fifteen, and then my mother would become a towering inferno of maternally indignant rage. As an adult, my "five more minutes" stretches out to days, weeks, and months. Though my mother is still capable of making me mind, it's harder for her to do so since I can just hit the end button on my cell.

While you've been preparing your life for the arrival of some very precious cargo, I've been preparing mine for its departure. After many days of arranging, rearranging, and agonizing over revisions of almost seventy pages of poems, I finally sent out my manuscript on Friday to a couple of first book contests. While I'm sure I missed more typos and poorly written sentences than I want to think about, at least it's out, and I can pretend to myself, for a little longer, that I'm not a failure. (Insert poorly differentiated exchange with myself here.)

Sundays are usually the days that J buckles down from noon 'til night to finish all his homework in one frenzied, cranky sitting, but he had a lighter load this weekend, which meant that either we were going to enjoy each other's company all day, or that I would hate him because he sometimes breathes weird. Thankfully, the former seemed to be true. Tolerating each other was made easier by our favorite foodstuffs.

I think that we took y'all here when you came last spring. Perly's has some of the best damn breakfast in the city. They also have that cool looking antique cash register and this homemade green chili sauce bidness, thereby utterly satisfying my inner condiment whore:

Who wouldn't want to fall in love again after fortifying oneself with this plate of goodness? While awesome, after breakfast J and I both agreed that something felt...amiss. After collapsing on our couch in mutual fullness, ahem, adoration, we got to work making some brownies. And then, because we are so young and hip and full of joie de vivre, enthusiasm, etc., we ate them and almost put together a whole 1/150th of a puzzle. J did manage to categorize many of the pieces according to shape and color, which we both agree will help in future assemblage.

Exhausted by all the time we were spending together, J finally got to work on his little bit of homework, and I began making dinner. Since J has class until late on Monday, I try on Sundays to make something that will taste good heated up and will last a couple of days. Did you know that paprikash has, um, a lot of paprika in it? Weird, right?

Chicken Paprikash (adapted from Cook's Ilustrated)

8 bone-in skinless chicken thighs
1 tsp canola oil
1 large onion, halved and sliced thin
1 large green bell pepper, halved and sliced into 1/4 inch strips
1 large red bell pepper, halved and sliced into 1/4 inch strips
3 1/2 tbsp paprika
1 tbsp flour
1/4 tsp Herbes de Provence
1/2 c. chicken broth (original recipe calls for 1/2 cup white wine, which I'm sure would be delicious)
1 can diced tomatoes, drained
1/3 c. sour cream
salt and pepper

Adjust oven rack to lower-middle position and heat oven to 300 degrees. Salt and pepper both sides of each thigh, and heat oil in a Dutch oven over medium-high heat. When the oil is shimmering but not smoking, add four chicken thighs. Cook without moving them until crisp and well-browned, about 5 minutes. Flip thighs over and cook for another five minutes. Transfer chicken to a plate and cook remaining four thighs.

Discard all but about a tablespoon of fat from the pan. Add onions and cook for about 5 minutes or until soft and starting to brown. Add peppers and cook until slightly softened, about 3 more minutes. Add paprika, Herbes de Provence, and flour, then stir until fragrant, about a minute. Add broth or wine, tomatoes, and a few generous pinches of salt. Add chicken pieces, and submerge in the sauce mixture. Bring to a simmer, about 1-2 minutes, then cover with a lid and place in oven for 20-25 minutes.

In the meantime, add a few glugs of Tabasco or hot sauce of your choice to sour cream. Mix to incorporate. Take chicken out of Dutch oven long enough to incorporate the sour cream. Return to mixture.

Served over white rice, it was filling enough that my favorite cohabitant only ate one serving. Though maybe the reason for that had more to do with the brownies I saw him sneaking all afternoon...

How was the rest of the weekend? What should I do with two Russet potatoes, ground beef, and spinach? How did your pozole turn out? I've been dying for that recipe ever since you made it two Thanksgivings ago. Speaking of...let's do some brainstorming about Thanksgiving eats soon.

Loveyoumissyou -

Fia