Strolling the Left Bank

Yeah... I  wish it was THAT left bank, the one found on the River Seine in La Ville Lumi'ere, otherwise known as Paris, a place I have known and would someday love to know again, but more like a walk down to our local major river, the Schuylkill, which flows behind my place to explore and check out the bank debris after the winter. Left meaning, we turned left along the bank reaching it via the Sanatoga creek.

Afterwards.... a hearty meal was in order and the order was already in place, thanks to the slow cooker I got for Christmas. Having prepared it in the morning (actually browning the meat the night before) allowed us to just have fun without the pressure to get dinner together. We had a good time skipping stones, trying to aim them, doing slow motion videos and building a small, temporary (as the next storm will take it downstream) and informal Cairn.

No great recipe here, just a tasty one of some beef, potatoes, carrots, onions, herbs, Worcestershire, etc... and time left alone to do it's thing. After our spot besides the river, we walked along the creek and checked out the local flora and railroad tracks for interesting 'bits' left behind from a passing train as well as had a balancing challenge on the rails. I am proud to say I handily beat him on this one. As he said, "one of the few things I can still beat him at". I am still quite agile.... it seems.

Friday Night Breather

As a kid, I remember Friday nights (living in an entire household who either attended or worked within a school of some sort) being the solid, end to our (work) week. A weekend of fun and rest was ahead. Many times we would go out for a pizza or to our favorite German restaurant, or the weeks when my Mom cooked at home, it was a simpler meal and a fun night to rest, watch a movie together, play a game, have company over. These days, on my own, it is the only night in a week where I am not working or engaged in time with Hayden. As such and often finding myself quite tired after a long work week, and further not being one to get out on my own anymore, it is the quietest and certainly the loneliest night of the week. Often, I make a simple meal for myself and rent a movie or sit down to read or work on the computer and try to forget all of the thoughts swimming around within my head for a bit. Not my first choice for a Friday night, but it is... just the way it is.

This past Friday I sought out some company with old friends whom also both work in addition to having three children to care for. I thought perhaps it would energize me with a goal and provide some sorely missed friendly human contact and family type fellowship to offer to come and cook a meal for them to finish out the week. I was sure they were all tired and could use the break like me and they enthusiastically welcomed me to do so.

Trying to keep the menu mostly family friendly and tasty, I brought some chicken breasts, asparagus (pre-approved) and wild rice. Rolling the chicken in Panko crumbs and finely crushed walnuts, I fried it crispy in olive oil, then added in ginger, chopped orange pieces, a little Cumin and let it cook awhile while attending to the rice, etc.... When it was ready, I removed it all from the pan, added some orange juice to what was left and reduced it all into a glaze with some red peppers to top it off with. Everyone but the smallest at the table enjoyed it thoroughly, which is fine. Her small taste buds will develop in time I am sure.

Anyway, it was still a quiet night of hanging out, but at least with some other souls to talk and share it with. One small spot of time and place where my presence was appreciated and in fact along with my culinary contribution (and dish duty of course... what fun would it be to have someone cook for you if you had to then to the dishes, right?) was welcome. That was a nice change. You will note my photo is on a different dish set. In truth I took it in a hurry as everyone was hungry, etc...the china is theirs of course and the fancy orange garnish was gratefully prepared with little hands :)

Carrying Africa in a box.

Couscous. A very cool word for a dish if there ever was one. Couscous... It rolls of the tongue quote naturally and I remember the first time I ever heard of it was when my Mom was trying something new for dinner, way back in the late 1970's. She called it Biafran Couscous, and perhaps in her mind it was somehow associated with the short lived African state of that time....or maybe it was newly marketed that way, I don't know. I don't think I had seen or eaten it it again until while on a trip in the early 1990's that found me at the northern edge of the African continent in Tangiers, Morocco on a photo assignment. I have to say here that although technically a part of the African continent, I won't truly have considered visiting there until I can see an Elephant in the wild. A good goal I guess, but one that the possibility of is sadly vanishing.

I remember sitting in a very large, ornate and especially grand Moorish restaurant. It was an awesome occasion with music and dancers and waiters swirling around carrying large platters to the various tables with allot of flair. A grand dish of what I believe was camel (I would have been none the wiser either way if it was or not), was topped along with olive, dates onto a large and generous pile of vegetable and spice infused Couscous. Eaten while seated on intricate, padded carpets around a large, low square table as a group, with the hand (right of course) and a piece of unleavened flat type of bread, it was a very festive gathering and simply was just allot of fun.

The Couscous we have available here in my local area of the U.S, is a premade dried variety and is vastly different from the one served that day in Morocco, but is something readily found and is still a dish that is interesting, fun and opens our pallets in a new way. Hayden loves it and I was glad to be able to include it in our meal.

Today, I prepared chicken, browning it in herb infused olive oil and butter and setting it aside while I sauteed onion, garlic, tomatoes, olives and lemons in the same oil, adding the chicken back into the pot and then baked it with the other ingredients to seat a glaze onto/into it.

As was the tradition that day long ago, I topped the Couscous with the chicken and sides, adding a dab of Greek yogurt as fresh dipping sauce to it all.

The Art in Cooking

A recent trip with Hayden to a flea market near where I grew up was found to be a very fun day of discovering old things, some fun, some weird, some interesting, some bizarre and some beautiful. These simple cooking pieces I believe fell squarely into the last category, for they are not only fun and interesting, but beautiful in their intended function.

Much like a uber cool, worn, brass and leather, expandable spyglass that Hayden was able to bargain a purchase for (that is amazingly clear and brings things from great distance right into your eye), these three small items were all something that will readily find a place in my kitchen 'tool set' and be used well. The fact that they were well designed and are simply mini pieces of culinary art is just a bonus. After sorting through several bins of kitchen gadgets, all at buy two for $1.00, get one free, these three rose to the top of the list and in flea market fashion, were stuffed into a plastic bag, wrapped in newspaper. The fork is just cool, the spoon reminds me of ones I had seen in Asian kitchens and I am enthused to cook with it and the hand mixer is just plain awesome. A perfect example of functional art if I have ever seen one. Oh, if these three pieces could tell stories of their journey into my bag... the hands they have been in... the food prepared with them... the basements they might have sat in for decades. Who knows?  I photographed them with my iphone on a brown piece of silk fabric on the kitchen table with a single shop utility light (my kitchen pendant lamp) that I painted a creme color inside.

Now to start cooking with them.

Alfredo Mitty

"To see the world, things dangerous to come, to see behind walls, draw closer, to find each other, and to feel. That is the purpose of life"

A Motto that adorned the wall in front of Life Magazine headquarters for decades while that wonderful and important piece of American culture was in print. A substantial magazine that I always enjoyed when I was young sitting in our gold, wing back 'reading' chair, but as I later in photography circles had the opportunity to meet and work with a few contributing photographers, I never did so myself.

So to tie this in to our meal other than to try new things in the kitchen, this one being homemade Alfredo sauce, there really is none other than it was a simple meal, adding in a movie... "The secret life of Walter Mitty"... A very fun and interesting whimsical film based on the short story by James Thurber. It involves a low level Life employee who has spent his entire career in the back dungeons of the negative (film) assets department who in the story thinks he misplaced a most important piece of film given to him by their premier photographer. In part desperation and part imagination, he sets out on a wonderful adventure to track the photographer and missing negative down, opening his eyes and heart to a larger world in the process. After traveling through some interesting and exotic locales, he eventually catches up with the elusive fellow, only to find, it was hidden within a gift he received before he even left. But the real story is his discovery of this other world and most importantly himself along the way. A self he never knew was there, drawing on those parts that he did not know existed and suddenly saw life in a different, new way.

Having been to, or near to some of the locations in the film, it was enjoyable for me to watch, also finding I somehow related to the photographer... maybe not because of what I have done, but because of what I wanted to do in my career. I suppose I was more like Walter Mitty I guess. Although I have been privileged to do some pretty amazing things in some quite 'exotic' distant locations, I never quite felt that special and always wanted to be like the photographer character I saw in the movie... elusive, fascinating, worthy of pursuit... and even though people would enjoy my stories, I always was just simply me in my own skin. That me... made a fun and delicious meal of Panko crusted baked chicken, placing it over simple pasta shells, topped with asparagus and a very yummy homemade Alfredo sauce, which in itself was layers and layers of cheeses, cream, garlic and herbs. That me and this dish, has to be enough for today.  

"Vedy Vedy good, dear Sir"

Words spoken to me as the bowl of 'parts' (misc chicken innards?) was placed before my plate with great pomp and ceremony. When my hosts then receded into another room to eat there without me, as seemed the custom, I opted for the rice and vegetable dishes instead, sparingly poking through the unknown to me, strange, tubular looking meat. Such is my experience while visiting India on a shoot many years ago. Wonderful invites to people's homes and a beautiful meal presented... to be left to dine alone or with my non english speaking liaison, Vijay. Delicious food (minus the 'parts')... but little company and fellowship. I felt they missed the point of dining. Kind of like their 'Yes' head bobble that looks more like a 'No' to this western raised man.

This attempt today, on a cold winter's night, was my first real foray in to making "honest and authentic" Indian food on my own. Hayden and I both love Indian, but cannot afford the luxury to eat out, so I stepped up to try something fun on my own.

Starting with loosely cutting the chicken into pieces, I dusted them with curry, salt and pepper and then lightly browned them in olive and coconut oil. Removing them from the pan, I sauteed ginger, garlic, onion and more curry until fragrant, adding the chicken back into it. Placing yellow peppers, a tomato and peas along with a little stock and Cilantro, I reduced it all to thicken and then topped it with some plain greek yogurt, dusting a little more curry with each step until it smelled like I remembered. On the side, steaming some Basmati rice with coconut milk, I fork fluffed it in layers with Coriander. A fresh lime on the plate to add a fresh spark and served with warm Naan from the oven.

It was a vedy vedy good meal, one that I would serve to an Indian friend... even if it was not loaded with chillies to scorch the earth. Hayden loved it, we ate together (as is our custom) and he went back for seconds. Still being the one armed man in his cast, (not caste) I did the dishes alone, much like a true Indian dinner.

The ingredients.

The chicken getting all curried up.

Goodness before hitting the plate. 

The old Dutch

Chicken corn chowder. Something I never even heard of until I moved to this particular part of Pennsylvania and even then, not until I was served some through an event at my children's school. I have not seen it elsewhere (not that I would have noticed if the truth be told) and I suspect it must somehow have some dutch/Amish roots perhaps to it as they have some historical influences in our area. I can't say that this is my favorite soup, far from it, but is one that is almost like a stew and well suited for this on going cold snap...if one can call this current period a 'snap' rather than just plain old wintertime. I like snow, I really do...you can readily see that from my other blog. I love it's quiet, sparkling decent from the sky, the way it lays on and decorates our trees and softly sculpts the ground so beautifully with rounded contours. That being said, I really am not that fond of the winter... meaning the bitter cold and the non-snow grays and browns that surround me when the earth is bare. I know those that are... those that are 'invigorated' by it and enjoy the icy blast into their nostrils, but I am definitively more of a summer person myself, preferring to be warm, and although I enjoy wearing a fun sweater, a good scarf and hat when necessary, I would rather be found sporting sandals and a short sleeved shirt.

Given my choice, I would have preferred to prepare what I call my "Savory Venison Stew", but not having the opportunity to hunt this year, I have no supply of deer and thus no stew. So... this soup was born out of what I happened to have on hand, was inexpensive, hearty and pretty tasty once I was done, which completed the mandate for a cold evening. In addition to the potatoes, bits of red pepper, corn, spices and grilled chicken, I added some asparagus for color and vitamins and because I love asparagus and because it was on sale. Sitting down to eat, in honor of our meal's imagined origins, we peppered our conversation with some local old time verbal flavorings, like ending a sentence with "don't ya know" or "as far as that goes". Doing so, I almost felt like changing my name to Amos... well... not really.

In it's pot bound infancy on it's way towards the bowl.