cold and comfort
soup, foraging dreams, and capitalism is a prison yet again
On Sunday, we decided to treat ourselves to a patio beer down the street at House of Funk, and it at 4pm it was so cold out that my phone shut itself off while trying to look up their online menu. Jeff and I were both still in fall mode, with light jackets over sweaters, but the weather was distinctly wintery, and both of us wished we were wearing scarves and gloves as well. The beers were excellent though, and while every weather is appropriate for IPAs (my fave), in my mind stout and porter season only lasts from Thanksgiving to Easter, so there’s at least one reason to embrace the chill.
Years ago, while working at Army & Navy, a book I was receiving for the camping department caught my eye: Common Mushrooms of the Northwest. I bought it mostly because mushrooms are cool and I wanted to be able to know what I was looking at while wandering around in the forest, but the idea of being able to find and bring home edible wild mushrooms that cost the moon at a shop was pretty enticing. Although I’ve gotten better at identifying species when I see them, so far I haven’t been certain enough to try anything I stumble upon (or indeed able to find a large enough amount of something that it’d be worth bothering to pick). On that note, I want to cry when I see delicious mushrooms start to appear at the markets in fall: lobsters, morels, chanterelles, pine mushrooms… unfortunately I rarely seem to be able to justify the expense.
At any rate, chanterelles were on special for a somewhat less exorbitant price, so I allowed myself the rare treat of getting them in my produce bin. I made a basic risotto to feature them, and halved my usual quantities in order to have a higher mushroom to rice ratio. First I fried a couple slices of prosciutto to crumble as a garnish, and then fried the mushrooms in the same pan. Because chanterelles, like oyster mushrooms, have hardy stems and delicate tops, I wanted to keep them aside to add to the risotto at the end so their shape and flavour would hold up. For colour and contrast I added some finely chopped kale with the last bit of broth, and once it had all wilted, stirred the mushrooms back in with just a splash of cream to tie everything together. We topped the risotto with parmesan and the prosciutto (though it didn’t need the prosciutto to be delicious), and polished off the whole pot. Maybe one day my foraging dreams will come true, but until then I can at least still treasure meals like this one.
For weeks I’ve been thinking about cinnamon buns, and finally got around to making them. I used this Bon Appétit recipe to make a half batch (because 18 cinnamon buns for 2 people is just irresponsible), though you’ll find similar instructions pretty much anywhere. My advice for anyone who makes them is to always make more filling than the recipe calls for, even if it makes them harder to roll up, because they’re just better that way. I also added raisins because I am not a hater. Cinnamon buns, despite what non-bakers might think, aren’t too difficult to make, but because they involve a bunch of components, it’s understandable that people mostly prefer to just grab one at a coffee shop or a grocery store rather than making dough, making filling, rolling and cutting them, and making glaze. But nothing compares to tearing into one, gooey with cream cheese icing, still warm and soft from the oven.
The worst part of making them, honestly, is the waiting: two hours for the dough to rise, then another 45 minutes for the buns to rise again after you set them up, and then the torture of smelling their sweet, bready, cinnamon-y scent while they’re baking. Luckily you can glaze and eat them after a mere 10 minutes of cooling time, if you want to (of course you do). And if you keep them under a tight cover, like a lidded cake plate, the edges won’t get crispy and disappointing overnight like a box of Cinnabon. I did seriously think about just eating them all on day one, though.
Because I actually had to go to A Job a few days this week, I wanted a couple of actually fast dinners in case I was tired or got home later than expected. I love this pan-steamed tortellini from Smitten Kitchen, which takes approximately 15 minutes to make and is supremely tasty. Cooking the tortellini in the pan after frying the prosciutto means not having to wait for pasta water to boil, and you get tortellini that’s crisp and brown on the bottom. A handful of peas adds a bit of green, and a squeeze of lemon and some crème fraîche with mint and lots of pepper finish it off in the bowl. Again, it doesn’t need prosciutto to be delicious, but we already had it in the fridge and the extra crispiness is so good. I bet shiitake or coconut bacon would do the trick, too… and now I’m thinking about how much I love shiitake bacon and need to make some…
I think mint is underused in savoury cooking, and it’s really a key element for this dish, adding necessary brightness and a crisp, fresh scent. The crème fraîche is the perfect match for it, in my opinion, and it’s so easy to make: add 3 tablespoons of plain yogurt to a cup of heavy cream, and let it sit at room temperature for 12-24 hours, until it’s slightly thickened and a little sour. Most recipes online use buttermilk instead of yogurt which will use a slightly different ratio (as buttermilk is thinner than yogurt), but this is how I’ve always made it based on the ancient Hows and Whys of French Cooking tome we found at the thrift store. This is a quick, satisfying pasta that hits all the right levels of salt, acid, and fat.
Last week I mentioned my excitement for the vegan soup swap, and my decision fatigue led me to allowing twitter to choose a soup for me to make. Tomato basil won out the poll by a decent margin over curried lentil (trailing behind were chickpea noodle and black bean vegetable). Because the soup needed to be vegan and nut-free, some of my usual tricks were off-limits, so I took a risk and tried a new recipe from the Veganomicon. This cookbook was published in the mid-2000s and can feel a bit dated at times (low-fat cooking? I don’t know her), but contains loads of excellent vegan staples and more inventive dishes to impress. The tomato soup uses sun-dried tomatoes for extra-rich tomato flavour, and waxy potatoes (like red, new, or fingerling) to make the soup creamy.
I doubled the recipe because I wasn’t sure a single batch would give me the 7 pints I needed for the swap— it’s been awhile since I’ve made such a large amount of soup, probably not since Thanksgiving last year. I was making it on Saturday night and laughing because when the soup was ready for blending, I had to transfer half of it to another pot and half to a large bowl, because otherwise it would have completely submerged my hand blender. Even after filling up my containers for the swap, I still had almost 2 quarts left! It was a bit too tart on first tasting, but after a day in the fridge, it was mellowed out and deliciously creamy and tomatoey. We had it for dinner with a grilled cheese (of course), which was just perfect on a 2° day.
The swap took place in an East Van park, and I legitimately almost cried at seeing the faces of some people I haven’t seen since at least February, if not earlier. I’ve been enjoying the soups I received in exchange all week for lunches: potato leek with dill, curried butternut squash, Hungarian mushroom, among others. It’s been delightful not only to have a variety of soup, but to be able to think of the friend who made it while I eat it.
Media:
This isn’t specifically food-related, but this week, after receiving a part-time job offer from a company I admire and having an existential crisis, I revisited this piece on the real reason for the 40-hour work week. After over 7 months at home, by far the longest stretch of unemployment I’ve had since I was 20, I’ve gotten so used to filling the days with my own tasks. I’m only going to be working 3 days a week for now, but it’s still a big change from 0, and I wonder how I will manage to squeeze in a job around cooking, writing, chores, relaxing with a book or some knitting, getting enough exercise, and a good night’s sleep! The answer, of course, is that you aren’t meant to be able to do all of these things while working. The standard 40-hour work week generally leaves people feeling drained of energy and pressed for time, which is good for capitalism, because we will buy things purported to make our lives easier and better. I could easily write a full essay on this, but here’s the Coles Notes version:
in most jobs, productivity is largely unchanged whether a person works 8 hours a day or fewer
the level of domestic productivity we’re meant to uphold is a post-war era ideal that necessitates having one partner support a stay-at-home partner who takes care of household duties
productivity expectations have increased drastically while wages have stayed relatively stagnant
commutes are, on average, around 30 minutes each way, which means an 8-hour workday actually takes up 9 to 10 hours of your time
many of us work more than 40 hours per week due to high costs of living combined with wages that have not increased with rates of inflation
When I was working 9-5, getting home at 6 or later, and immediately starting to make dinner so that I could be eating it before I was starving, it didn’t feel like the creative outlet it does now. It felt like labour. And when it feels this way for someone who genuinely loves cooking, what does it feel like for someone who cooks merely out of necessity? It’s no wonder services like DoorDash or Instacart and meal prep companies like HelloFresh have gained such popularity, when swathes of people don’t have the time or energy to plan meals, shop, and cook for themselves— or even make coffee at home in the morning. It’s my hope that this is yet another problem that’s been highlighted by the pandemic that we can move towards changing (see: the case for a shorter work week). Wouldn’t we all be better off in a world where people had more personal freedom and time?
Thanks for reading— if you enjoyed this newsletter, please share it with someone new! And finally, a way to complete your hand-washing routine that reflects the way we’re all feeling.