Confessions from a One Bedroom Apartment

To say I eat well is an understatement. Us food obsessed folk tend to make sure we fill our bellies with a healthy assortment of deliciousness, on a daily basis. But, of course, it can't always be caviar – or even carnitas. Sometimes, when I am alone in my apartment, I fall victim to some secret cravings. Things I only eat alone, with the blinds closed, and a Sex and the City disc in the DVD player. Now is not the time to judge. I see you out there! Eating Lil Smokies. Cold. Straight from the package.

Confession #1: Sour Cream.

I first discovered I had a serious problem back in 2004. I was entertaining a friend in my apartment when she popped into the powder room. By the time the bathroom door clicked shut, I was hunkered down in front of the fridge spooning the tart, creamy condiment into my mouth. I realized I had actually been waiting for her to leave so I could dive head first into my sour cream stash. My endearing love for sour cream had turned desperate, and something had to be done. I couldn't buy the stuff for six months after that. It was just too dangerous! I would take down half a carton in minutes flat, a dribble of spicy Tapatio on each white bite. Now I respect the sour cream. I eat it in moderation. Well, by my standards. I still enjoy a couple spoonfuls, straight from the container, while standing in the guilty, glowing light of the refrigerator.

Confession #2: Secret Tortilla Behavior

Hours after dinner, if I'm at home and snuggled up on the couch with some good food porn (Bon Appetit) or a new culinary memoir (just finished My Homemade Life by Seattle blogger orangette), my taste buds begin to beg for something salty. As I am a girl with little willpower, they never have to beg for long. I slide off the couch, pad into the kitchen, and snatch the ever-present sack of flour tortillas off the top of the refrigerator. Flick! The gas burner comes to life and I drag the tortilla over the flame, until it is warm, toasty, chewy and freckled with charred brown bits. Here's where it gets weird. I drizzle truffle oil over the tortilla. I sprinkle Bacon Salt on top of that. It's like Mexico meets Food Snob meets White trash. One is usually not enough.

Confession #3: Kraft Macaroni & Cheese

Show me the home of an American child, and I'll show you a pantry brimming with the Blue Box. Word has it, some infants are clutching the Kraft in their tiny, pink, clenched fists when they squeeze themselves out of the womb. Despite the general food snobbery (truffle oil, homemade macaroni and GOAT cheese) I have an every-now-and-then weakness for this insanely comforting, fluorescent orange, treat. But so do a lot of people. The confession? I have to eat the entire box in one sitting. It's the law. But first, I usually gussy her up. A few flakes of tuna, a handful of peas, a crank of the pepper grinder, maybe a splash of Tapatio (have you noticed a trend) and she's good to go. But I'm no good to go anywhere. Except to bed. Pharmacists should cook up a batch, cram it into one of those plastic orange pill tubes, and prescribe the shit to insomniacs.

So, what's your poison?

Got time? Make Tamales!

In my private moments, I like to fantasize about having a Mexican mother who insists on spending hours, days, maybe even weeks (it's only make-believe so it's okay to turn my imaginary mother into a slave) behind a stove, cooking me authentic Mexican dishes. While I love the annual dose of matzo ball soup my own (read: not Mexican) mother cooks up, a cold slab of gefilte fish ain't got nothin' on a pan of fragrant chicken enchiladas. Sorry real mom.

So last weekend I decided to take matters into my own hands, and become my own Mexican mother. I then waved my magic wand and turned my entire cooking club into a gang of Mexican mamas, and together we went to work on making a whole lotta homemade tamales.

Tamales require several hours to make, but the end result is so completely worth it. A tamale fresh from the steamer is the moistest, most tender you'll ever taste. We stuffed most of ours with fork-tender, red chile-tinged, pork but accommodated the lone vegetarian with a roasted poblano chile, jack cheese and black olive version.

Tamales are best tackled by a hungry group, so get your posse together and get cooking!

Red Chile Pork Tamales
Recipe adapted from Rick Bayless
Makes about 18 tamales

For the Pork:

16 large (4 ounces) dried guajillo chiles: stemmed, seeded and torn into pieces (They actually had these at the Queen Anne Safeway. I was shocked and impressed.)
4 garlic cloves
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
1/4 teaspoon cumin
1 1/2 pounds lean, boneless pork (preferably from the shoulder), cut into 1/2-inch cubes
Salt

In a blender, puree the chiles, garlic, cumin, black pepper and 3 cups of cold water. You may have to do this in batches. Push the fiery-looking red puree through a sieve and into a big pot with the cubed pork. Add another three cups of water and a bunch of shakes of salt. Bring this to a boil then drop the heat to medium/medium-high and reduce until it becomes a nice, thick sauce. This could take about an hour and a half. Stir often. Taste and add salt if needed. It will be needed. When the pork has sucked up most of the liquid, shred with a fork and let it cool to room temperature.

For the dough:

I bought a bag of Instant Corn Masa Mix (also available at Safeway). Mix 2 cups masa mix with
1 1/2 cups warm water or broth, 1 teaspoon baking powder, ½ teaspoon salt and 2/3 cup lard or vegetable shortening. I went the shortening route, and you'll need to whip it with a hand mixer until fluffy before mixing it into the dough. It should be moist, but not too loose.

The Wrappers:

Get a bag of dried corn husks. Soak them in cold water for about 20 minutes. You'll need two or three husks per tamale, depending on their size.

Assembly:

Take two corn husks (bigger are better) and lay them down so that the wide end of each overlaps by a couple inches. Spread masa dough over the husks, no more than 1/8 inch thick, leaving a wide border on all sides. Spoon a thin line of pork down the center of the masa. Fold her up like a burrito, smushing the masa together to hide the filling.

The tamales will need to steam in a big pot (a steam basket, flat metal veggie steamer, or bamboo steamer all work) for about an hour. You will probably have to add more water – so keep a close eye on the pot so it doesn't burn!
Leftover, refrigerated, tamales can be brought back to life with a revitalizing 15 minute steam. Don't you dare warm them in the microwave!

Top your little beauties with a scattering of cilantro, a dollop of sour cream and a splash or three of Tapatio or fresh salsa.

Finally, wave your magic wand and un-Mexican-mother yourself. Savor a tender tamale. Que Beueno!

I ate breakfast! Like, a whole bunch of times!

If you've heard it once, you've heard it 9,654 times: Breakfast is the Most Important Meal of the Day. Frankly, I feel sorry for lunch and dinner. No one has bothered to create an adoring and catchy slogan for them. There is no "Lunch is the Most Awesomest Meal of the Day" to boost its confidence and morale.

So to support the underdogs of the eating world, I have chosen to boycott breakfast for much of my adult life. Yes, this is the true reason I so seldom eat breakfast. It's for the cause! I am an activist!

But whenever my boyfriend comes to town, the breakfast ban goes up in flames. My fridge fills up with bacon and eggs and more bacon and more eggs. I have learned that boyfriend, in fact, equals bacon. You can't have one without the other. And you can't have boring breakfasts. Generic Grape Nuts and nonfat milk are not welcome.

Here is a five-days-in-the-life photo diary of the breakfasts we recently cooked and enjoyed:

Monday: Breakfast Tacos!
Mexican food should not be limited to lunch and dinner. Scramble up some eggs and fold them up in a warm corn tortilla with cilantro, sour cream, avocado, refried beans, quinoa, and leftover steak strips. Shake the Tapatio bottle over the taco like you're angry it at. Confucius Says: Spicy Breakfast = Good Day.











Tuesday: Egg & Sausage Toasts
As a huge supporter of the marriage of sweet & savory, chicken apple sausages are a favorite breakfast meat. Here they join fried eggs, sauteed mushrooms, melted sharp cheddar and basil on slices of toasty sourdough.





Wednesday: Homemade Parmesan Pepper Biscuits, Sweet & Red Potatoes, Bacon & Fried Egg
I have a reputation as a bad biscuit baker. You'd be more apt to use one of my lil biscuits as a door stop, rather than put it in your mouth. But thanks to science, I am improving! I learned that the butter must be ice cold and should be left in the dough as pea sized bits. I learned about folding the dough, before cutting, to create flaky layers. I am now the biscuit master! Ok. I'm not. Yet. But these were pretty dang good.


Thursday: Pineapple Bacon Pancakes with Apple & Pineapple Topping
Breakfast in bed! Whoever invented that concept deserves a medal in the shape of a bacon strip. I ate these pineapple/bacon pancakes under the covers, along with a side of (burnt = sad) potatoes and some fancy fruits.








Friday: McNotMcDonald's Egg McMuffins
Yes, Mcdonald's is bad. But their Egg McMuffins? Those are good. I like to make my own at home in under 10 minutes. Fry up an egg and a slice of ham while the muffin toasts. Let some cheese melt on your hot egg. Get out that Tapatio and go to town. Voila! McYum.

A Wish Come True: Seattle's Best Pizza

Growing up as a little girl in suburbia, one of life's great excursions was a trip to the mall. And in the center of my mall was something grand: a real, live, working fountain. My mom would dig deep into the folds of her eel skin wallet and produce two pennies. One for my younger sister and one for me. She instructed us to make a wish and toss them in. I have no idea what my sister wished for. A better haircut (it was the 80's)? A pony? A trust fund? But I wished for the same thing every single time. I'd squish my eyes close, squeeze the penny in my fist and chant this mantra: "I hope we have pizza for dinner. I hope we have pizza for dinner. I hope we have pizza for dinner" and chuck the copper coin into the fountain.

Things have really changed since then. I'm older, I don't live in suburbia, and all of my local malls are fountain free. Seriously! Not a single pizza wishing fountain in sight! So I am forced to be proactive: if I want pizza for dinner, I have to go get pizza for dinner. Sigh.

Luckily this is an easy task, as I only have eyes for the pies at a single Seattle pizzeria: Via Tribunali.

You can forget about pineapple, green peppers or even pepperoni; VT doesn't use them. They stick to traditional Italian ingredients like prosciutto, fresh mozzarella and olives. Their incredibly fresh tasting pizzas strictly follow the guidelines set by Verace Pizza Napoletana, a Naples based organization that sets the standard for authentic Napoli style pizza.

Via Tribunali's wood fire brick oven looks like an adorable Alaskan igloo, but the bricks (made from the ashes of Mt. Vesuvius) were flown in from Naples. This extra hot oven cooks the pizza in a flash, and allows the thin crust to stay chewy underneath, and bubbly brown around the edges.

Ordinarily, I fall victim to being a topping whore. But at Via Tribunali I am perfectly content with the margherita pizza, topped only with the freshest, vibrant red tomato sauce, blobs of fresh mozzarella and basil leaves. But I'd never refuse the Piazza Dante (pictured) topped with that amazingly bright tasting San Marzano tomato sauce, melty provolone, pink prosciutto, cherry tomatoes and a leafy layer of peppery arugula.

Slice by slice, I chowed down on both varieties last night. In fact, I ate half of each pie, which means I ate *ahem* an entire pizza for dinner.

But so what! Over the years, I probably tossed fifty pizza pennies into the wishing fountain. The actuality of my parents ordering pizza on one of those nights? It might have happened once. Once! It doesn't take a mathematician to see that I am owed 49 pizzas. And I plan to eat them, one delicious bite at a time, at Via Tribunali.

A Non Food Related Post

I am definitely a supporter of good dental hygiene. Brushing, flossing, tongue scraping - yes yes and yes! But apparently I am a boring brusher: I tend to tend to my teeth in the comforts of my own bathroom.

This morning, as I walked up my street to get a decaf latte (it really perks you up!), I saw a man brushing his teeth. While walking briskly down the street. He was really taking care of business too! He appeared angry at his teeth, violently scrubbing the plaque off them, while carrying a little paper cup full of rinsing water and a tube of toothpaste in the other hand.

I found this sight thrilling! It reminded me that I do, in fact, live in a quirky city, and not an oversize town parading as a city. The last time I felt this good about my street was the day I moved in. I walked out of my building to find a woman taking her kitten out for a walk on a leash.

So thank you teeth brushing guy! You made my Seattle Sunday.

Cookies for President!

I'm not one to do cartwheels for cookies. For that matter, I probably won't pirouette for pies or tremble for tarts. I will, however, use a lot of annoying alliteration to tell you that I usually prefer the savory over the sweet.

But. BUT. Things have changed. A single cookie recipe has altered my normal opinion of dessert. Day after day, night after night, I walk Zombie-like into the kitchen to eat just one – okay, maybe two... Alright! I'll have three! cookies until every last crumb is gone. The extra dough doesn't last long in the freezer.

As for the recipe, it's origin is a bit embarrassing to me. You may have heard it before. It's the Neiman Marcus Chocolate Chip Cookie recipe. Ring a bell? The recipe comes equipped with a cheeseball story – that may or may not be true – and is at least 20 years old.

The tale goes that some lady asked the department store for the cookie recipe, and was falsely charged $250 – instead of the $2.50 she expected. But boy did she get her revenge! She decided to distribute the recipe to everyone she knows, and asked all of them to keep passing it along. Boy is she fierce!

Dumb.

But the fact of the matter is – the cookies are amazing. They are chewy and nutty and perfect – and you must make them.

Addictive Chocolate Chip & Pecan Cookies

Makes about 35 cookies

2 1/2 cups oatmeal – blended into a powder
1 cup (2 sticks) butter
1 cup brown sugar
1 cup sugar
2 cups flour
2 eggs
1 tsp. vanilla
1 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. salt
12 ounces chocolate chips
1 1/2 cups pecans (or whatever nut you like)

*I added a big handful of shredded coconut to my batter and it was delicious!

-Cream the butter and both sugars in a big bowl
-Add eggs and vanilla
-Mix in flour, blended oatmeal, salt, baking powder and baking soda
-When it's all blended together, add chocolate chips, nuts, and coconut if you know what's good for you
-Roll into flattened balls, and place two inches apart on a cookie sheet.
-Bake for 9 minutes at 375 degrees.
Roll leftover dough into logs, wrap in plastic or parchment paper – and store in the fridge or freezer. You can cut off thick slices whenever you crave a cookie, and bake for 10 minutes.

The cookies will be very soft, and appear a bit raw after baked. Don't panic! Don't bake them longer! They will firm up when they cool.

Sushi & Jewshi

It's not polite to brag. I know this because my mother taught me manners. But I haven't lived with my mother for 11 years - so fuck it! I'm gonna brag!

Look at my beautiful homemade sushi!

I have no witty clever things to say about the sushi that I rolled last week. I'm not particularly in the mood to give you instructions on how to roll your own. I just really wanna show off the photos.

And I wanna say that I wanna make sweet love to Uwajimaya. This amazing and massive Asian grocery store, with its rows upon rows of tofu and noodles and frozen dim sum and what-the-heck-do-I-do-with-this produce is the perfect spot to gather sushi making materials. I was literally bouncing and skipping through the fish department. Fish excites me!

You can buy schools of sashimi-grade fish by the slab or, far more affordable, just a few savory slices. You can buy a small fan of seared tuna, a chunk of locally smoked salmon, a single octopus tentacle, and a healthy hunk of unagi.

And if you celebrate Hanukkah, you can roll up a batch of Jewshi. Sushi for Jewish people! Get it? Get it? Skip the bagel and create a smoked salmon, cream cheese and green onion roll. The adventurous should utilize the ultimate Jewshi roll filling: gefilte fish! Served sans wasabi, but with a squirt of horseradish of course.