Granola

Over the years I've made many valiant attempts at making food at home that can easily be found in a restaurant or store. And over the years, I've had to admit defeat more than a few times. Marshmallows, for one. Why would anyone try to make homemade Marshmallows when you can buy a bag of perfectly fluffy, uniformly shaped Marshmallows for a few bucks? This is a good question and one I asked myself after the third time I found myself scraping thin, sticky, spongy homemade "Marshmallows" out of a pan. I have also vowed to The Husband and myself that I will never again attempt to make Thai food. Why go to five stores for fifteen different ingredients that I always manage to turn into an inedible mix of sweet/spicy/fishy flavors when I can simply pick up the phone and have Pad See-Iw delivered in twenty minutes?

But there are some things that never taste as good when they are store-bought and are incredibly easy to make at home. Pita chips, for one. Ricotta,surprisingly, is another. And last week, I added Granola to this list. I love Granola and I have never found a version in any store that I have fallen in love with. And believe me, I've tried them all, spending as much as $10.00 for a mediocre experience. It's usually too sweet or too dry. It usually has too many oats and not enough nuts. The flavor is often bland or artificial tasting. I am so much happier with my own homemade version that I will never buy Granola again. This recipe is easy to make, relatively healthy and can be adjusted to your personal tastes. Like more dried fruit? Add more! Love pecans and hate almonds? No problem! Trying to cut back on sugar? Just add less! The only ingredient I wouldn't tinker with is the oil - if you must cut back, just be warned that your Granola might lean towards something a horse would enjoy eating more than you.

3 cups old fashioned oats
3 cups nuts (I usually use a combination of two or three nuts. My favorites are pistachios, pine nuts, slivered almonds, pecans and pumpkin seeds)
1/2 cup shredded, unsweetened coconut (optional)
1/4 tsp kosher salt
1 tsp vanilla
1/4 tsp cinnamon
1/2 cup vegetable oil
1/3 cup water
1/3 cup brown sugar
1 Tbsp honey (you can also use maple syrup)
1 cup dried fruit (sometimes I use less, especially in the summer when I add fresh berries to a bowl of Granola)

Preheat oven to 300. Mix first 3 ingredients in a large bowl. Whisk together all other ingredients (EXCEPT dried fruit). Pour liquid over oats and nuts, mixing really well to completely coat. Pour Granola onto a rimmed cookie sheet (preferably lined with parchment paper.) Bake 1 hour, stirring several times. Take out of the oven and add dried fruit. Let cool. Store in an airtight container for up to 2 weeks.

Half the Bottle, Twice the Fun

More is not always better.

With every birthday I celebrate (as I did last week) this bit of wisdom seems wiser and wiser. This is not to say I follow this advice religiously. Sometimes more of whatever it is you desire is pretty damn great. But recently when I’ve been in wine stores, I find myself drawn to the half-bottle section. Some nights, I don’t really want, or need, to open a full bottle of wine. Maybe because it’s a Tuesday night and I have to be up early the next day; Maybe because The Husband now insists (ahem) on only drinking martinis; Or maybe I just want to try a new wine but not invest in a full bottle.

It’s taken me a long time to take half-bottles seriously. They seemed like a waste of money and a waste of time. But I used to also think this about well-made shoes (money) and flossing (time). I’ve seen the error of my thinking with shoes and flossing (never buy cheap shoes; floss regularly) and I’ve seen it now with wine, too. Half-bottles (for those of us lacking slightly in restraint) are perfect portion control.

Half-bottles are exactly that: 375mL (two generous glasses of wine) to a full-bottle’s 750mL. Half-bottles are half the price, give or take a few dollars sometimes. Shopping the half-bottle shelves does limit your choices somewhat, but look around; some wine stores have a much larger selection than others. Reds, whites and bubblies from all types of grapes, all types of regions, and all prices ranges ($6.00 up into the hundreds) are out there.

Whether you’re eating at home or in a restaurant, half-bottles are also a great way to pair wine with food. Open a bottle of white for the first course (perhaps with a seafood appetizer?) and then a red for the second (steak and potatoes?). In this case, when you’re able to enjoy two wines at one meal, less really is more.

Hang On, Little Tomato

Is there anything as precarious as a tiny tomato hanging on the vine?

Taking a wider world view than my front garden, I suppose the answer is yes. But it doesn’t change the fact that I walk out every morning expecting the worst. Maybe a rodent will eat it. Maybe the plant will get sick before the tomato ripens. Maybe one of several thousands types of tiny insects might start nibbling on its leaves. And here’s the thing - I don’t even really like tomatoes (unless they’re part of something, like salsa or pasta sauce, or ketchup). But this is my first foray into gardening and I’m a little nervous.
When I was in culinary school, one of my classmates grew several pots of tomatoes in her bedroom. Sun streamed in from a bay window, ripening the little tomatoes day by day. Her dream was to wake up one morning and pluck a tiny red tomato from the vine, enjoying its sweet flavor without even getting out of bed. Perhaps this was the ultimate foodie fantasy being played out. Or perhaps it was just a girl living in a tiny apartment in a major city and a pot next to her bed was as close to a garden as she was going to get.
For years I’ve been in the same predicament, but now, no more. Although to be fair, I don’t want to overstate the greenness of my thumb. First of all, The Husband has done the lion’s share of the work (numerous trips for soil and seeds, disciplined watering). Secondly, we don’t even have a real garden, we just have pots. But we do have a tiny green tomato trying its
darndest to grow and one box of lettuce seeds that refuses to grow at all and I’m rooting for both of them.
Will the tomato ripen? And if it does, what do we do with it? There’s only one tomato on the plant, so do we cut the tiny thing in half and throw it in a salad, which will conveniently be small too, since one box of lettuce seeds refuses to grow? I don't have the answers to those questions. I'm new at this gardening thing. But I’ll keep you posted.

Celery root

There are more than a few frightening-looking fruits and vegetables that look more like creatures you’d find under your bed than something you’d want in your kitchen.
When I bought celery root recently, I was sure I’d come out for a glass of water during the night and find that the root had sprouted legs and beady eyes or some sort of sticky gremlin-like cocoon. But beneath its scary exterior, is a mild and harmless vegetable.

Celery root, also known as celeriac [sel-LER-ee-ack], is the ugly cousin of celery. It can be eaten raw or cooked and tastes a
little bit like a cross between celery and a potato. To serve the root raw, peel it, shred it on a cheese grater and added a little mayonnaise and shrimp for a light salad. Cooked, you can treat celery root like any other root vegetable: bake or boil; puree or mash.

It supposedly keeps better in the fridge after buying, but I left mine on the counter for week. When left out long enough, the root gives off a savory aroma that smells exactly like Lipton Noodle Soup.

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Sack Lunches

On my drive home from work in the afternoon I’ve been seeing the same group of five construction workers ending their day. They’re walking to their own cars, all of them still wearing orange vests, and all five carrying small lunch coolers. I always wonder what was packed in their cooler that day. I imagine meatloaf and ketchup sandwiches or maybe ham on white bread with mayonnaise and a bag of chips. Maybe Tupperware filled with leftovers from last night’s dinner or a long, slim piece of cold pizza wrapped in tin foil. I love packed lunches. The anticipation! The joy of seeing a sandwich snug inside a Ziploc bag! I miss the grade school lunch hour when I walked down the hallway tightly holding two dimes that would buy a small carton of milk from the milk wagon. (I know that makes me sound like a pioneer – I wasn’t – but I swear, my grade school did have a milk wagon.)
The Husband is not so big on the packed lunch. He thinks it's sad, and I understand why. A half-squashed paper bag with a flap folded down. The sandwich bread that sometimes gets soggy. Knowing that your freedom from work will be over in 30 short minutes.
But what if you had a shiny, metal lunchbox? Something with a nifty little handle and three different compartments? A friend brought such a thing back from India recently and although I don’t think it’s meant to be a lunch box, that’s the first thing I thought of when I saw it. This little lunchbox would make you the envy of lunch room.
This week, plan ahead one night and pack yourself a lunch. Don’t scrimp - make it hearty. Pack yourself a lunch so good that your co-workers might actually consider negotiating a trade. Your homemade salad with fresh chicken and blue cheese in exchange for the gut-bomb burrito they bought across the street? Or perhaps your large square of leftover lasagna for their boring old bagel?
Yeah, right.
If you really want to make ‘em jealous, take my cue and bring the lunch box back into your life. It feels good to swing a lunchbox by your side. Makes me feel like skipping.

Horseradish Bloody Mary

The way I view the world, today is called "Nacho Sunday" not "Super Bowl Sunday." Watching the game (who are the teams again?) is simply an excuse to eat. I'm not really into the half-time show or the commercials either. But I am definitely into the nachos. Nothing fancy - just chips and cheese garnished with jalepenos, chopped tomatoes and beans. Some guac and salsa on the side. This day is also one of the few times in the year when I indulge in one of the few cocktails that is acceptable to drink for breakfast: The Bloody Mary. I like mine on the spicy side with the earthy flavor of fresh horseradish. You can buy horseradish root at almost any grocery store. I serve the Bloody Marys in a pitcher and let people add their own vodka. Pepper vodka is great, although regular vodka works just fine too. Serve with a celery stalk or pickled asparagus and a wedge of lemon.

Horseradish Bloody Mary
64 oz tomato juice (two large jars)
3 Tbsp grated horseradish root
1 Tbsp Tobasco sauce
1 Tbsp + 1 tsp fresh squeezed lemon juice
2 tsp worcestershire sauce or soy sauce
5 grinds black pepper
1 grind or shake of salt