Yummy Yellow Yips

Tea: Vanilla Jasmine

Music: Relient K, "Santa Claus is Thumbin' to Town"

Time: Night.

I cook, but I don't bake ... much. Not enough opportunities for tinkering during the "apply heat to food" stage, which doesn't sit well with my ADD.

There are exceptions, though -- although one of them is still in the future.

I made a sweet potato pie (from scratch, I'll have you know) for Thanksgiving. It turned out pretty well.

There's an Irish soda bread recipe I want to try this winter.

And until this past week, I was a whiz at skillet cornbread.

Then, the other night, I put in too much milk (not too too much, just a sixth of a cup over, but it did make the batter noticeably runnier). The result was lighter than usual -- and pretty darn good for a mistake.

Tonight, I melted the butter ... and then, of course, forgot to put it in. (I wondered why the batter didn't want to spread in the skillet.)

The result was thinner and crisper than usual. And again, it didn't taste half bad (especially with butter and honey).

There's no hiding it. I've got the cornbread yips.

Then again, if I'm going to screw up what little baking skills I do have, I suppose it doesn't hurt to be dealing with quite possibly the most forgiving foodstuff on the planet. (Salmon's a close second, although it tends to get a bit peevish when left on the fire too long.)

I can't wait to see what mistake I'll make next. It's sure to be delicious ...

Hitting the Books Again

Tea: Gunpowder.

Music: Holly Cole, "Onion Girl"

Time: Night.

I used to go out to eat (alone and with others, both family and friends) a lot -- and by "a lot," I mean "way too often for the bank account's health."

True, money was steadier then than it is now, but the pattern wasn't a good one.

Nothing in the fridge or the pantry speaking to me? Got a bit extra from an overtime check? Nobody felt like cooking? Off we went.

Money's tighter now. It's the 27th of October, and (not counting a couple of church dinners, a couple of pregame media meals and the Friday night arts refreshments) I've been out to eat twice this month.

I've enjoyed both times, but I've also enjoyed rediscovering my cookbook collection.

I never gave up cooking entirely, but I'd gotten into a frittata/carbonara/chili/throw something on the grill rut. (No, not all at once. That'd be ... uh, no thanks.)

I'm not giving up the old favorites, but it's fun to see what's on hand and start scouring the shelves for recipes. Who knows? Maybe the next turn of the page will produce another tradition.

Okay, that was reaching. I'm tired and rambly ... but you know I'm going to break out a couple of cookbooks and check out sweet potato recipes before I turn in.

Your bedtime wordgift from me: Jack London, "Local Color"

Seasoned with Change

Tea: Jasmine Vanilla.

Music: UK, "Night After Night"

Time: Night.

The farmer's market nearest me is shutting down for the season. Today was the final Saturday, although there's one more session on Wednesday. It seems too early for that, but there it is.

We bought a few late tastes of summer -- eggplants and bell peppers -- but mostly stocked up on hardy foods that should last well into the cold months.

There are sweet potatoes, still in their coats of dirt (they keep better that way.) There are turnips, which I used to loathe -- but now seek out as soon as I feel a fall chill. There are winter squash, awaiting loving treatment with sweetness and spice.

Eating seasonally was once the norm. We've gotten spoiled as a culture, though. Want strawberries in January or asparagus with Christmas Dinner? You can get them -- but at what cost?

The cost, I'm coming to think, of connection with the rhythms of the places where we live, and appreciation for what each season brings us.

I've had Molly O'Neill's cookbook The Well-Seasoned Palate (which is as desirable for the essays as for the recipes) for years. This may be the year I finally internalize it.

At the very least, I'm going to get outside some Turnip Bisque ere long ...

Tonight's story: Frederick Stuart Greene, "The Black Pool"

Pans, No Flash

Tea: Mandarin Green

Music: This Train, "Technology"

Time: Night.

I can't honestly say that I love my cast iron skillets and my woks. They are, after all, only worked metal, and could be replaced if necessary. But I am rather fond of them.

Part of it is remembrance of stir-fries and fish fries, of sizzling bacon and twice-cooked pork. Good meals nourish more than once. But there's something else.

These particular pans aren't low-maintenance. They require care. None of this dishwasher-safe nonsense. Put soap in a well-seasoned cast iron pan or steel wok, and you undo -- in some cases -- years of work. Try to wipe them dry, or let them air-dry, and they rust. Forget to oil them after they're dry, and you run the risk of losing the conditioning.

With all that work, why put up with them? There are electric woks and nonstick pans. And in certain situations, those have their uses. I wouldn't rig up a charcoal fire in the dining room for hot-pot, for example.

But when you want a crisp crust on your corn pones, you want cast iron. When you want concentrated heat at the bottom of the pan and a cooler place along the sides, so your beef cooks and your broccoli doesn't get mushy, you want a hand-hammered wok.

The really good stuff takes work, more than might seem reasonable to people who don't "get it." But it's worth it. And that's true in the kitchen, too.

Tonight's scary story: Algernon Blackwood, "The Wendigo"

I should have had it delivered by an African Swallow ...

Tea: Mandarin Orange

Music: Earth, Wind & Fire, "Fantasy"

Time: Night

My youngest daughter doesn't like mushrooms, but I can get her to eat shiitakes if I soak them in vanilla Lapsang tea and include them in spicy stir-fries.

Her older sister doesn't eat coconut ... until tonight.

I made Gobi Foogath (Spicy Fried Cabbage) as a side dish for egg curry, and the recipe (taken from my battered edition of Charmaine Solomon's The Complete Asian Cookbook, which can also be found online here) calls for two tablespoons of dried coconut, stirred in at the end.

It came time to add the coconut. I looked at the futon, where my unsuspecting daughter sat, blithely doing her homework. I looked at the bag of white shreds, back at my daughter ... and poured in a generous handful.

Of course, I told her. But I was restrained about it. I kept my dancing and chanting of "I got you to eat COconut ... I got you to eat COconut," to a meager thirty seconds.

Then she had to ruin the moment by shrugging and saying, "Oh, well. I couldn't taste it."

Sheesh. Waste of a perfectly good gloat.

Tonight's scary story: M.R. James, "Canon Alberic's Scrapbook"

Skippy the Wonder Chicken says Good Night

Tea: Blood Orange

Music: Del Amitri, "Always the Last to Know"

Time: Night.

Remember that stretchy (but non-rubber) chicken from the other night?

It's finally gone.

The final roster of meals to which it contributed:

Thursday lunch: Dirty rice for one

Thursday dinner: Roast chicken and vegetables for five

Friday lunch: Leftover roast chicken for two

Friday supper: Sausage and cabbage soup (with the leftover vegetables and a chicken stock base) for four (I was at First Friday.)

Saturday lunch: Soup for four (One of the kids had a scenery-building workday at school.)

Saturday dinner: Spinach salad with chopped chicken for five

Saturday late night snack: Soup (with the leftover chopped chicken added) for one

Sunday supper: Soup for four (One was tired of soup and had a sandwich.)

I'd say it's fitting that the last meal came on a Sunday. Church and thankfulness for blessings and all that. But I'm trying to make every day a day of gratitude, of awareness, of stewardship.

Heh ... guess this lesson tasted like chicken.

I know I slacked last night and didn't post a scary story. So tonight, here are two.

Thomas Peckett Prest, "The Demon of the Hartz"

Horacio Quiroga, "The Feather Pillow"

Stretching a Non-Rubber Chicken

Tea: Blueberry

Music: Beastie Boys, "Sabotage"

Time: Night

So how do you feed five people -- three of them teenagers -- on one non-giant chicken?

Quite well, I'm finding out. And with the economy the way it is, anything that stretches out the food budget is a good thing.

The process started last night. I took out the giblets, butterflied the bird and set aside the backbone. (I know the link says to discard it. I can't afford to discard anything, right now.) Then I peeled back the skin on the breasts and thighs, rubbed some smoked paprika on the exposed meat and put the skin back. A dusting of smoked paprika and kosher salt on the skin, and the bird went into the fridge.

But wait, there's more. I browned the backbone and the neck and put them into a pot of boiling water, to make stock. I put the liver and gizzards into another pan of water and cooked them. After a while, I took out the neck and back (while they still had some flavor in the bits of meat attached to them) and put them in a baggie with the giblets.

The neck and back meat and the giblets were part of my lunch today. I made dirty rice, using the stock to cook the grains. With a few drops of hot sauce completing the assembly, lunch was served -- and enjoyed.

For dinner, I roasted the chicken, along with some vegetables (potatoes, carrots, onions and celery) tossed in olive oil and dusted with poultry seasoning, salt and pepper. On the side, iceberg salad. Now, in the past I've regarded two pieces of chicken as a snack and three as something of a divine right. But tonight, we all made do with slices from the breasts, and nobody complained of being hungry. (My stomach is shrinking, I think.)

I boned out the rest of the chicken, saving some for Mrs. Steep's lunch tomorrow. (I did save out the flat portions and the tips of the wings. Those are going to be my lunch.) The rest of the meat will go on a salad, most likely.

Done? Not yet. I make a stock out of the bones. That will be a base for soup, using the leftover roast veggies, the cabbage in the fridge and three jalapeno bratwursts (bought on sale for 60 cents each). With any luck, there will be leftovers of that, too.

Please don't take this as bragging. Take it, if anything, as an expression of gratitude for Providence and provision, and of regret for past waste -- and a determination not to take a full belly for granted.

Tonight's scary story: Algernon Blackwood, "The Lease"

Hop and Stretch

Tea: Earl Grey

Music: 21st Century Schizoid Band, "21st Century Schizoid Man"

Time: Night.

This is getting to be a habit. I went bug hunting today.

I didn't start off to do that. My son had a strings gig at a park with some decent wooded areas, so I took along a couple of plastic bags in case I was able to find some nuts (including acorns) or mushrooms.

Total forage: One edible hickory nut. The acorns were (a) small and (b) wet, and the only fungi were either (c) unidentifiable or (d) clearly not for consumption.

So, finding an area of long grass outside the woods, I spent a half-hour pursuing (and in about two dozen cases, catching) grasshoppers. They got the usual preparation, with the added step of pulling the legs off the larger ones. (Spiky, those legs are.)

In the meantime, I made a small pot of rice. When it and the bug/chile preparation were both done, I fluffed the former and stirred in the latter.

Hey, if you've only got a small amount of a good thing, you stretch it how you can.

Another Dollop of Catch-up

Tea: Blueberry

Music: Metallica, "Enter Sandman"

Time: Night.

My computer has gotten over its latest bout of being stupid. My brain's still fogged, but it's a start and I'll take it.

So, recapping (because I'm vagueing too much to reconstitute three days' worth of posts):

1. This week's forage: Apples from a tree in front of the high school. (I see this as an extra yield on my tax dollars.) Stewed six of them tonight with honey, vanilla, cinnamon, nutmeg and a pinch of ancho pepper. This would be good alongside roast pork, ham or even sausages.

2. The chipmunk needed to be rescued again, this time by my son. He came home from school and found it trapped in the drainpipe, squeaking frantically. He helped it out and it scampered away. My guess is that it thinks if it keeps getting rescued, we'll keep giving it acorns. Sorry, only the first release comes with free food.

3. Speaking of acorns and foraged apples ... I'm thinking that dried apples and acorns would be pretty darn good together in a stuffing (even better if I can get bacon into the mix).

Great. Now I'm hungry again ...

A Quick Bite of Appreciation

Tea: Iced Chai

Music: The Who, "Eminence Front"

Time: Night.

I like to cook. Occasionally, I even love it. And I'm not bad -- or so I hear from time to time.

But I still envy the people who can be handed random ingredients and make magic. The food whisperers, if you will.

The Iron Chefs (one of whom I once got to meet) come to mind, obviously. But they're just the most famous examples.

I'm in awe of anyone with an intuitive knack for what is both art and craft -- as well as a basic human need. To look at a piece of fish, heft a melon, sniff a bunch of herbs and know just what should be done with each, for how long and in combination with this or that -- well, that's a fine gift.

And while I might not have it, I'm not jealous. Just appreciative of those who do, and who share it with the rest of us.

Why do I bring this up?

Because many times I use this space to rant or gripe ... and tonight I just felt like raising a cup to artists of the culinary stripe.

So Bacon is Cleveland?

Tea: Jacob's Dream

Music: Mott the Hoople, "All the Young Dudes"

Time: Night.

With the kids out of the house, one package of bacon goes farther than usual.

Last night, it was BLTs (one of the ten best sandwiches in the world, in no particular order).

Tonight, some crumbled up leftovers went on top of a white pizza, along with cream cheese, yellow onion rings, thinly sliced Roma tomatoes and a sprinkling of shredded Mozzarella and Parmesan.

There are four uncooked slices still in the refrigerator. They'll go into a pasta sauce tomorrow, along with more onion, roasted red bell pepper and the remaining Roma.

I've heard rumors that there are people out there who get tired of bacon. I'm not one of them. I'm not even half of one of them.

This is because ... and yes, it takes the upper case: Bacon Rocks.

It rocks on its own -- the thicker the cut, the better -- and as an accompaniment for everything from cheeseburgers to steamed green beans to filets. I've even had a chocolate bar with bacon -- and you know what? That's right. It rocked.

(Pancetta, a subset of bacon, also rocks. This must be duly noted.)

I'm not sure who first got the idea of curing pork belly and then applying smoke. (Not where it was first done -- the visionary who first conceived of bacon.) There is, however, some interesting reading to be had here and here.

Whoever it was ... I raise a rasher to you. Because you, too, rock.

Cup XVI: Caffeine Cuisine

Tea: Vanilla Lapsang Souchong

Music: The Rainmakers, Flirting with the Universe

Time: Late afternoon

Much more than a cup today, but only one cuppa -- if you know what I mean.

I have a huge bag of vanilla Lapsang Souchong, hand-blended by the friend who sent me nearly all of the teas in my collection. I love the stuff, but it takes up a lot of room. So, whenever possible, I cook with it.

The second half of the first steeping went to soak dried shiitakes. The other half, still way too hot to drink, went over sliced pork tenderloin to half-cook it. Then I made a second steeping, drank part of it and put the rest of it over the thirsty mushrooms.

The pork and shiitakes (the latter drained and sliced) went into Wok No. 1 (I have three), along with slices of Japanese eggplant and red bell pepper. Then, in order: sweet chile sauce, a ginormous scoop of crunchy peanut butter, and the tea in which the pork marinated. Toward the end, two and a half zots of soy sauce. The whole thing went over rice noodles.

Vanilla Lapsang has this great smoky sweetness that plays really well with shiitakes and eggplant (which in turn gets along wonderfully with pork).

So, when you're looking to get creative in the kitchen ... all I am saying is, give teas a chance.