Update 11/30/09: (Congratulations to Carmen and Leslie, random winners of our Thanksgiving giveaway, whose packages will be arriving soon. Thanks to all of you who participated!)
It’s Thanksgiving week, and I’m thankful for you—every one of you.
And I’m also thankful for the kind people at Red Gold Tomatoes, who are sponsoring a very cool giveaway for us this week! Simply subscribe to Food Loves Writing (and e-mail me the secret word), and you’re eligible to win one of two giveaway packages: a large tin filled with three cans of their diced tomatoes, two cookbooks, a red canvas tote, a magnetic chip clip, other magnets and a toy truck.
Red Gold sent me one of these care packages a few days ago, and I couldn’t believe how cool it was! The tomatoes were even high enough quality to use in the scalloped tomatoes recipe you may remember from a few months ago, with the results being just as delicious as when I’d hand-chopped fresh tomatoes from the garden, no kidding. And that giant tin? The perfect container for my kitchen recyclables before I take them outside. You’re going to love this.
Today, I bring you a story that to me is pure embarrassment and laughter, but to you I hope will be encouragement. It is a post is for anyone who has ever done something stupid, not just in cooking but in life. It is for those who think they are incapable of cooking or baking, especially when you look at food blogs like this one. And, not only will it include a recipe, but also a tip on a great restaurant to check out next time you’re in Galena.
It is a story, yes, but it is also a reminder, mostly that when you make a very big mistake, you might as well laugh about it because, at the end of the day, even if you told nobody and got to hold your head a little higher, you’d still know the truth inside and then, you wouldn’t know the intimacy of being honest with people or hearing that they mess up sometimes too (yes, that is an invitation for you to share your stories), and that would be a great loss indeed. So here goes; when I say you’re going to love this one, I mean it.
And it all starts with Brussels sprouts. Read more…
This was supposed to be a recipe for an easy version of apple pie, or at least that was my intent when I started peeling and coring four Granny Smith apples at the counter last Wednesday night.
As part of my mission to avoid yet another kitchen disaster, I had been taking every possible easy route: choosing a simple recipe, peeling all the required apples in one step, doing that peeling while I was sitting down so as not to exert any unnecessary effort for something that might not turn out and not even using a printed recipe because I had memorized the basic steps from looking at them for so long, really analyzing whether or not I could trust this new combination of ingredients and steps and would it be worth the trouble? In most of life, this fragile attitude would be something to work through, but in this case, it really worked to my advantage.
Each time I’d finish peeling one of the apples, its curly green skins spread out on the cutting board in front of me, I’d plop its little body into the adjacent round casserole dish, keeping it from rolling away while also leaving the counter clean. And thing is, once I set that final apple into the dish, the four of them lined up next to each other like they were meant to stay that way, ready to be poached or roasted or something, it became crystal clear to me that these apples weren’t for a pie, but instead they had a different fate. I should bake them, bake them whole, stuffed with some sort of sugar and oats mixture that could get all hot and gooey inside and bubble on top and down the sides. It was so obvious.