stormfront
too many carrots, getting back to sourdough, and when bad things come in threes
Hello again. Here we are in December, somehow. Bad things all seem to arrive at the same time, don’t they? I didn’t write a newsletter last week because I was sad after we didn’t get an apartment we were hoping for, and my stepdad also lost his job. And my mom broke one ankle which needed surgery, and the other one is sprained, so she’s needed a lot of help this past week, too, which she hates and isn’t used to. Jeff and I went out there on Saturday to make dinner and help my stepbrother put up the holiday decorations, which brightened the place up a bit while she’s essentially trapped in the living room until she can put some weight on the sprained ankle. We all keep reassuring her that all any of us need for Christmas is to spend time together, but I’m also happy to help plan what baking I can take on, give options for a simpler brunch for us than our usual eggs benedict, and make some trips to stores to buy things that can’t easily be purchased online.
Jeff and I cheered ourselves up after the news about the apartment with donuts from Cream Pony, and a beer at House of Funk. I’m looking forward to their annual barrel release this weekend, too. Also this weekend, I’m having a birthday party as I prepare to enter the last year of my thirties. As usual, I’m hosting a movie night and making dinner and cake for everyone. This year features an unhinged lineup of The Emperor’s New Groove, Star Trek: The Motion Picture (the director’s edition, of course), and When Harry Met Sally. I can’t wait.
It’s been tough to feel creative the last little while, but I have had a bit more motivation than I have in previous weeks, even if it’s just to make things I already know and love. It’s nice to feel like I’m collecting myself and finding a bit of peace in the kitchen again, rather than trying desperately to not let produce go to waste and keep myself fed when I would rather be doing anything else.
On the site with the recipe for one of my favourite soups (Hungarian mushroom), I happened across this one for a chowder inspired by street corn, also known as elotes. I used three different types of chili powder: ancho, one vaguely described as ‘Mexican’, and a smoked hot paprika, which gave it a decent kick and lots of flavour. I didn’t make it quite as written, because we have so many carrots from harvesting the garden that if I don’t use one every time I open the fridge the guilt starts creeping in, and because I used coconut milk instead of cream, and so on. Oh, and I forgot to partially blend the soup as recommended. It was still good chunky, just maybe a bit less appealing visually. We used feta on top because I keep forgetting to buy cotija, and no one came to arrest me.
Also due to our carrot surplus, Jeff made a big batch of a meatless pasta sauce known as sugo finto, or ‘fake sauce’. It’s so named because it’s meant to evoke the heartiness of a meat sauce when you don’t have or can’t afford meat. It’s a satisfying, rustic sauce that essentially uses the elements of a soffritto— carrots, onions, and celery— and cooks them until they’re nicely tender but still have some bit to them (unlike a soffritto, which aims to cook them until very soft so that the flavours melt and blend together in whatever you’re cooking). We have this in an Italian cookbook, but the Serious Eats method probably won’t steer you wrong; the only significant difference I can see is that this recipe uses crushed tomatoes and we break up whole canned tomatoes by hand to give the sauce more texture. Use a sturdy long noodle like linguine or spaghetti quadrato. Pecorino and freshly ground pepper on top are perfect.
This week, after a trip to Bulk Barn to replenish our supply of flours and nuts and beans, I finally fed my neglected sourdough starters for the first time since August or so, after dumping half an inch of hooch off the top of both of them, and watched in awe as they rose again over several days in the fridge. Every time I think ‘it’s been too long, I’ve definitely killed it for good this time’, I am wrong. Sourdough starters are powerful and they forgive. Not always easily, but they do forgive. Only five days later the starter was ready to make a loaf of bread. I got to eat a slice of it the day it was made, and I almost teared up from how nice it is to have fresh bread.
Making bread is not particularly difficult, but it requires a little discipline, which I haven’t had much of lately. Feed the starter. Keep an eye out for when it’s doubled in size. Mix the dough. Stretch the dough four hours later. Shape the dough two hours after that. Let it rise. Score the top. Bake it with the lid on the pot, then with the lid off. And don’t cut into it when it’s too hot, or it’ll get mangled— this is usually the hardest part, because fresh warm bread is the greatest thing in the world. I hope I can bring myself back into a routine where I am making a loaf each week or every other week, at least.
In other carrot news, I made a lovely ginger-carrot soup from a recipe I scribbled on an index card years ago, cooking for Jeff while he was in bed with a cold. The soup itself wasn’t very interesting, though, so in the years since I’ve made some additions that turn it into a meal I actually want to eat rather than one that feels vaguely medicinal (the ginger had to be strong enough to make the soup have flavour for someone with a stuffed nose). I cut the amount of ginger down a little and added yellow curry paste to give it a nice colour and a more interesting flavour profile, and subbed some of the broth for coconut milk. This time I also had leftover white beans from a white bean tuna melt, so those went in too, making the soup a bit thicker and more filling. We put chili crisp on top to serve, which immediately makes anything taste better. And having fresh bread to eat with this was another bonus.
A few mainstays reappeared over the past couple weeks, too: first up the gochujang-glazed eggplant I could eat at any time of any day. Sometimes I feel defeated by the fussiness of crisping green onions or shallots beforehand, so if you’re feeling intimidated by the frying process, just skip it! Add crunch by chopping roasted peanuts to put on top, making a quick pickle, or both, which is what we did this time.
I also made pizza bowl using the Gusta smoked paprika vegan sausage (their version of chorizo), which was amazing as usual. After finishing all the sautéed kale, onions, and sausage though, I still had rice and sauce left, so for a midweek lunch I tested ‘put an egg on it’ to its absolute limit. I cooked more kale and onions, but we were out of garlic so I added garlic salt, and then set it aside to fry an egg, and for some reason decided to sprinkle dill pickle seasoning on it. It was weird as hell and I’m not mad about it.
Finally, I pulled some roasted spaghetti squash out of the freezer to make a version of my vegan smoky squash mac & cheese (spaghetti squash variation guide is here). This had more squash and cheese than usual, so it was very saucy and homey, which is great because it’s been so bloody cold lately and all I want to do is eat warm comfort foods, especially those with obscene amounts of cheese.
Media:
As you presumably already know by now, the notorious war criminal Henry Kissinger died on Wednesday, to the delight (because he sucked and was evil) and horror (because he didn’t die sooner) of people with souls the world over. And cycling around social media were Anthony Bourdain’s words about him, most notably this quote, which he wrote in 2001’s A Cook’s Tour:
“Once you’ve been to Cambodia, you’ll never stop wanting to beat Henry Kissinger to death with your bare hands. You will never again be able to open a newspaper and read about that treacherous, prevaricating, murderous scumbag sitting down for a nice chat with Charlie Rose or attending some black-tie affair for a new glossy magazine without choking.
Witness what Henry did in Cambodia— the fruits of his genius for statesmanship— and you will never understand why he’s not sitting in the dock at The Hague next to Milošević. While Henry continues to nibble nori rolls and remaki at A-list parties, Cambodia, the neutral nation he secretly and illegally bombed, invaded, undermined, and then threw to the dogs, is still trying to raise itself up on its one remaining leg.”
I love this the way this is filled with Bourdain’s incomparably visceral and passionate way of speaking about things, which is probably why it’s been so popular— it simply feels cathartic to read. And the fact that the quote itself isn’t recent and yet is still relevant, many decades after the crimes in question, really gets to the heart of why people are so eager to rejoice in Kissinger’s death: he in no way paid for his crimes in life, so all we can do is hope is that will pay for them in the afterlife, and be glad that now the people who suffered because of him no longer have to exist in a world where he still lives comfortably. Bourdain, an admittedly imperfect journalist, did seem to understand that it’s impossible to separate food and politics. The more you learn about food, the more you learn that you cannot divorce the food of a place from that place’s history, from its people’s times of suffering or prosperity.
Thanks for reading— if you enjoyed this newsletter, please share it with someone new! I like providing this to you for free, but it does still involve time and effort, so donations to get me a little birthday treat (or support eventual moving costs 😓) are much appreciated. Finally, here is a post that flawlessly sums up the communal experience of a major event on twitter.