About Polenta

I can remember mentioning it at least twice in passing, and it's probably pretty likely that you saw the word and thought to yourself, "Self . . . whaaaa?" MY BAD. So before I flippantly mention it once again, let's talk a little bit about polenta.

What is polenta? Well, polenta is--to put it crudely (if you happen to be Italian)--Italian grits. And what is grits? Well, as we mentioned before, grits is corms. Delicious ground corms.

If polenta is just grits, why polenta? Because polenta is Italian grits. And what are Italians other than smooth, silky, and (rico) suave. Let's face it, sometimes you need a little Gerardo in your life, amirite?

Now that we've gotten that out of the way, let's do this thing. There's actually two ways you can make polenta. (Well, there's probably a million ways to make polenta; I will present you with two.) You can make it according to your package directions (boil water, stir in corn meal, cook for 20 minutes, add cheese) or, if you have a little time, you can make it this way. You'll need:

• 4 cups water
• 1 cup medium-ground corn meal (I've used white corn meal here because that's what I have; you'll find yellow is more traditional)
• 4 tablespoons butter
• Up to 1 cup cheese (I like parmesan, but if you want a super fluffy and creamy and outrageous polenta you can use cream cheese)
• Salt to taste

So, slightly salt the water and bring it to a boil over high heat. Once it's going, quickly whisk in the polenta until the mixture is smooth.



Reduce the heat to a low simmer, add the butter, and give everything a whisk occasionally for the next 45 minutes to an hour.

You'll begin to notice that, unlike grits, your polenta won't maintain individual granules of corn meal. Instead, it'll almost take on the consistency of pudding. Savory, savory pudding. At this point it's time to whisk in your cheese.



Give it a taste and add salt as needed. Then, plop that goop down on a plate.



And top with your favorite slop.





And enjoy!

About Cold Noodle Salad

Somethong (okay, I could fix that typo but COME ON) about the words cold, noodle, and salad together in a row like that strikes me as... funny? Odd? Somethong? Anyway, let’s get on with it, eh?

How about that thunderstorm, hey? That was some insane shit, I’ll tell you what. Winston was mesmerized by everything blowing around all over the place, and spent the majority of yesterday afternoon with his nose pressed to the window. But I guess that’s what happens when a (relatively) cold front smashes into HOT AS BALLS. (Incidentally, I tried to sit out by the pool on Saturday but my skin melted off after 37 seconds. True story.) Thankfully it’s no longer HOT AS BALLS, but it’s still pretty damn hot out there, so we’ll continue with our tour of dishes that do not require much if any use of heat-creating kitchen equipment. Hence the aforementioned cold noodle salad.

This is a recipe in two parts. We’ll tackle the noodles first. For four, healthy-sized servings you’ll need:

• A little more than half of a box of whole-wheat spaghetti
• 1/4 cup water
• 3 tablespoons soy sauce
• 2 tablespoons canola oil
• 2 tablespoons rice wine vinegar
• 2 teaspoons dark sesame oil
• 2 teaspoons freshly grated ginger
• 1 teaspoon sugar
• 1 teaspoon crushed red pepper
• 3-4 cloves of garlic, minced
• 1 tablespoon peanut butter

Cook the pasta according to the directions on the box. While that’s boiling, mix up the rest of the ingredients in a big bowl to make your dressing.



When the pasta is cooked, drain it, then rinse it in cold water to stop the cooking process. Drain again and toss the noodles with the dressing in your big bowl.



Then pop that big bowl in the fridge while we tackle the “salad” portion of our cold noodle salad, which consists of approximately 3 cups of whatever veg you like.



This is what I brought home from the farmers market: carrots, cucumbers, radishes, cilantro, and scallions. Other veg that would be good: baby bok choy, mushrooms, cherry tomatoes, broccoli, cauliflower, etc., etc., etc. BASICALLY, you just want to make sure your approximately 3 cups of veg is cut pretty thinly so that twirling everything onto a fork is no big whoop.

Now toss all that together with your big bowl of dressed spaghetti.



Now you have a choice: you can either serve it right away at room temperature, or you can park that baby in the fridge for an hour or so for it to chiiiiiiiill. Either way, you probably can’t go wrong.

Probably.

About My Boyfriend's Mother's Kugel

Today is my boyfriend's 47th birthday, and in honor of this milestone I thought I would share his mother's kugel recipe, which isn't as good as his grandmother's stuffed cabbage recipe, and definitely not as good as my mother's latke recipe, but I'm not terribly convinced I even like kugel all that much. I mean it's fine, whatever, but I'm not super in love with it or anything, because, I don't know. It's like this mutant side dish/dessert thing that really fucks with my mind, you know? But if you are the kind of person who enjoys a good mind fuck every now and again, I am assured that you'll absolutely LOVE this. So here goes:

• 1 lb. wide egg noodles

(See?)

• 16 oz. sour cream
• 16 oz. cottage cheese
• 5 eggs
• 2 tsp. baking powder
• 1/2-3/4 cup sugar (I like half a cup, Seth likes three-quarters; it all depends on how sweet you'd like your kugel to be)
• 1 tsp. salt
• 2 tbsp. butter melted into a 9x13 baking dish
• 1/2 cup raisins (optional)

• Cinnamon and brown sugar for sprinkling

Preheat the oven to 350F degrees.

Boil the noodles for 4 minutes, which won't cook them all the way through but this is a good thing! Don't worry about it! And then drain them in a colander.



Meanwhile, in a large bowl, beat your eggs well, and then mix in the sour cream, cottage cheese, baking powder, sugar, salt, and optional raisins. (I actually meant to add raisins, but I forgot. Oops.)



And now add the noodles. Stir it good. St-stir it real good.



Pour this mixture into your buttered 9x13 baking dish, sprinkle the top with cinnamon and brown sugar, and then bake that bad boy (or girl, whatever) for 30-45 minutes, until the top is brown and crunchy and the kugel is just set.



Let that sit for another 15-20 minutes or so, and then slice and serve.



Now, there will be a lot of this left over. Like, a whole lot. But don't worry about it! Leftovers can be wrapped and frozen so you can have kugel whenever you want. You know, if you want. Whatever.

Happy 47th birthday, boyfriend!

About Toasted Israeli Couscous with Zucchini

Alex and I used to wander into the UC at Tulane University round about lunch time and every now and again we'd hit the jackpot: Greek Salad Day. Greek Salad Day was the best day of all the days because (a) the Greek salads were ridiculously awesome, and (2) South Park.

Do what now?

Alex and I used to wander around Tulane University quoting Eric Cartmen INORDINATELY, particularly the classic line, "YEAH I WANT CHEESY POOFS!", because yeah, I would like some cheesy poofs, please. And so one fateful day Alex and I were waiting patiently in line, side by side in the UC at Tulane University, watching our ridiculously awesome Greek salads being constructed. And I don't remember which of us said it, but I do remember that the nice lady behind the counter was certainly not expecting her innocent query, "Would you like some couscous?" to be answered with "YEAH I WANT COUSCOUS!" Because yeah, we would like some couscous, please.

This is not that kind of couscous. My boyfriend does not like that kind of couscous. And I don't know, maybe it's because he's Jewish or something, but the only couscous he likes is Israeli couscous, even though he only had Israeli couscous for the first time, like, three months ago.

What is Israeli couscous? Why, it's a unique Mediterranean toasted pasta specialty. Don't believe me? Fine, see for yourself:



Israeli couscous is also ridiculously awesome, because really it's just pasta, but it's tender and chewy and completely unlike pasta. Plus you can add all kinds of things to it, like zucchini for instance! So for four servings, you'll need:

• 1 large zucchini, cut into small cubes

• 1 cup Israeli couscous
• 1 1/4 cups chicken broth
• 1 small onion, diced
• 2 medium garlic cloves, minced

• Olive oil, salt, and pepper
• 2 tablespoons of assorted fresh herbs, minced

Once you have your mis en place all placed,



heat up a tablespoon or so of extra virgin olive oil in a medium saucepan over medium-high heat until it gets all shimmery and starts to smoke. Then add your zucchini (or summer squash or bell pepper or eggplant or heck, all of the above), a pinch of salt, some freshly cracked black pepper, and a couple shakes of any other seasonings you like (like cumin or coriander or paprika or heck, all of the above). Then saute that down until your zucchini has lost a lot of its liquid and is starting to brown all up. Sort of like it went to the beach and got a suntan. Only not like that at all. Shut up, Kat.

(This should only take a couple minutes.)



Dump all that zucchini onto a plate.

Return your pan to the heat and maybe add a drop or two of oil if you think you need it, then dump in your onions with another pinch of salt and some freshly cracked black pepper, and saute that until it is softened and starting to brown, not AT ALL like it went to the beach and got a suntan.

(This should only take a few minutes.)



Next up, add in your garlic and your couscous, and toast that all up for about a minute.



Oh yeah, stick your chicken broth in the microwave for a minute or two until it boils. Then pour it into the pan and stir everything up, making sure you scrape up any fond from the bottom of the pan.

Turn your heat down to low and slap a lid on that baby, and let it simmer away for about 10 minutes, stirring occasionally. Your couscous should absorb pretty much all of the liquid, making it slightly chewy but not hard.



Return your sauteed zucchini to the pan and dump in your herbs.



Give it healthy stir to incorporate all of your ingredients, put the lid back on your pan, and let that heat back up for a minute or two more. And just like that (well, not JUST like that, but close enough), you are ready to serve.



(Oh, and I find a squidge of lemon over everything really brightens things up, kind of like going to the beach and . . . oh, never mind.)

About Asparagus Ravioli

When the Caps have a matinee game, like they do this weekend (LET'S GO CAPS!), a curious thing happens. We'll wander out of the Phone Booth, drunk and exuberant from the latest stunning Caps win (LET'S GO CAPS!), and it will still be light outside. And stores will still be open and shit. And so we'll wander around the neighborhood, hooting and hollering, until invariably we'll end up at the cheese shop because I LOVE CHEESE. And then we'll wander around bar hopping until bedtime and wake up Sunday morning and wonder where the $10 bottle of tomato sauce came from.



Oh yeah, the cheese shop.

So we'll have this $10 bottle of tomato sauce, and we don't want to just waste it on some crappy spaghetti or whatnot and we'll sort of babble about pasta or whatever until the phrase "well method" pops up and then somehow I'll get roped into making ravioli from scratch because asparagus is on sale and also we have a huge hunk of goat cheese in the fridge and asparagus and goat cheese SCREAM ravioli. (Also, tart and frittata and omelet and quiche and LET'S GO CAPS!)

But then I'll remember that our cleaning service doesn't come for two weeks and the well method of pasta making looks REALLY messy and also I have a cat who likes to stick his face in everything and hey! I'm Asian! And I live in Chinatown! Which leads to me buying a package of wonton wrappers and morphing into a cynical, embittered version of Sandra Lee, whom I hate by the way.

And so, to make me feel better about buying these (which you can get in your local supermarket, by the way, usually in the produce section where they keep all the tofu and phoney baloney and whatnot):



I'll spend the day making my own ricotta. So SUCK IT SANDRA LEE.

Your grocery list, for about 35 raviolis:

• 3/4 cup ricotta cheese, well drained
• 6 ounces softened goat cheese
• 1 cup steamed asparagus, chopped
• 1 egg
• Salt and pepper to taste
• Package of wonton wrappers
• 1 egg white

So yeah, first you're gonna wanna steam (or roast or boil or whatever) your asparagus until it's cooked, then you're gonna wanna let that cool, AND THEN! cut off the tips (and save them for later), and chop up all the stems into little pieces.



Then you're gonna take your ricotta, goat cheese, and chopped asparagus, and you're gonna dump it all into a bowl, and mix it up, and taste it. Need salt? Add salt. Need pepper? Add pepper. And then add your egg and mix it all up again.



Then, put your filling mixture (because I don't know if you caught what was going on here, but that's what you just made) in the fridge to chillax for a few minutes. THEN then, pour yourself a glass of wine, because you have a bit of work ahead of you.



Man, I could totally use a glass of that wine right about now. Anyway. Clear yourself a little counter space and set up a little work station: have your package of wontons open and your egg white in a little bowl and a place to put all of your finished raviolis. And those asparagus tips you saved? Slice them all in half lengthwise. And prepare to make magic.

Take out one wonton wrapper and place a little dollop of filling right in the middle. (Little dollop = NOT TOO MUCH! You don't want the damn things exploding on you!) And in the middle of that place one of your sliced asparagus tips. FANCY. Dip your finger in the egg white, and dab it along the edges of the wonton, around the filling. (This is the glue that keeps the two wrappers together.) Then, place another wrapper on top, and carefully press the two sides together, making sure you get as much air out as possible.



Lather, rinse, and repeat. And before you know it, look how many raviolis you've made!



Now stop being so smug and put those in the fridge while you heat up some sauce and boil some water. Go ahead, I'll wait. Done? Okay, good. Gently boil your raviolis for a minute. MAYBE two, but I'm skeptical. Then remove them to your serving dish with a slotted spoon (five to six raviolis should be enough for one person; you can freeze the rest for later).



Sauce those bad boys up, and while you're at it, top it off with some fresh basil and Parmesan.



VOY-LA. A romantical dinner for two, semi-homemade with love.

Gah, I can't believe I just said that. Someone please shoot me in the face. Also, LET'S GO CAPS!