jonah stew

Jonah moved out last week. In order to celebrate mourn, I decided to recreate his daily staple food, something I nicknamed "Jonah stew".

To start, find a pot that you've cooked something in but haven't washed. Ideally it's the pot you made stew in yesterday, but if you don't have that, any other sauce-encrusted pot with bits left over will do.

Turn the heat on and pour a little bit of oil in - just a little, can't get too crazy. Sprinkle in just enough rice grains to cover the fact that the pot was never washed.



Add in some frozen feelings vegetables, whatever you have congealed in the depths of your soul freezer - peas and corn are good. Using a wooden spatula, stir and scrape the bottom of the pot, agitating all of the dessicated and frozen things together. Add in a bay leaf if you want to see something that might have been alive at some point - totally optional.



All this stirring the pot is hard work. Put the lid on for a minute and cast your eyes about for some distraction. What? Jo left nuts on the counter again? Why would she leave things you like to eat just lying around? Mmm, almonds... I mean damn her.



Ok, now you've got no one to blame but yourself. But, you tried so hard to resist!



OK, back to work.

Take out some tofu. It's gotta be EXTRA FIRM • ORGANIC like the CARPET • YOGA MAT you sleep on - chronic back pain's a bitch.



Now really take that tofu out of the box. Out of the box things scare you, so release that fear/anger by gripping and squeezing the tofu, really hard. Make all the water come out. That's good. Good work.



Rest for a minute and stretch your back. Put your leg up on the nearest stool/chair/stool-chair combo. Nevermind that it's the middle of winter and you're wearing gym shorts and mismatched socks - your life is efficient, damn it. Who has time for style??



OK, bell pepper is next. Halve it by any means necessary. A knife is nearby but why do things the easy way?



Dig out the seeds of change and throw them in the waste disposal THROW THEM ON THE GROUND!

There are many things you've thrown on the ground before, like people's hearts. But you can't talk about that now; it's too sad.



Break up the tofu and the bell pepper and toss them into the pot. This is the most colorful your life gets.



So that was exciting. But you don't want to overdo it, so you store them away carefully in the fridge drawer, like not wrapped or anything.



Despite the color, the mix is tasting rather bland at this point. Here are some spices you have historically used:
Tumeric
Oregano
Black pepper
Red chili flakes

But, since you live with Jo, ya might as well steal her spice blends and never replace them:
Balti (cumin mix)
BBQ 3000
...OK that's as much as you'll allow yourself.



Open a can of chickpeas and leave the lid at the edge of the sink, like so. You're very cautious, so this *surely* wouldn't cut anyone.



Scoop some chickpeas into the pot. Get out a bunch of scallions and twist off sections with your big hands - because CHOPping is for suckers your roommates.



Taking a break from math is supposed to be helpful, but at this point it's just taking too long. Take a break from taking a break, and eat something involving hummus.

Spinach leaves will work, but a carrot is even better. Bite down hard so frustration can leave your body, maybe.



You're finally at your carrot's wit's end.



Throw the rest of the spinach into the pot and put the lid on so your feelings can stew.



When you're finally ready, fill up the nearest small container - wouldn't want to eat too much! Something like the lid of the hummus container would work, but ramekins - why not.

Scoop out the stew and top it with hummus and/or Greek yogurt and/or olive oil and/or salt and/or some crackers. Whatever you'll let yourself have for the day.

Don't forget to pour one out for your dearly beloved/departed.



Eat the stew with a small-ish spoon and cry the entire time.

Try to forget but end up leaving the BFF light on, forever.

making pizza from scratch

Ever since I found out Amy made pizza from scratch, I've been wanting to document it for the blog. This past weekend I finally had the chance. Here's the recipe she uses:



She starts by making the dough and letting it rise. Here's how it looked when it was ready:



Then, with the type of dough-facility inherited from her father, she lightly kneaded/folded it into itself.



To form a ball. That got to sit and chill, all super soft-like. (I poked it, it was super soft.)



Then it was onto the toppings. While a pot of whole tomatoes simmered on the stove, Amy shredded a bunch of mozzarella.



Then it was back to the dough.



She tossed it expertly into the air a few times, spin-turning and catching it each time until it got the size of a personal pizza. At one point a hole got torn into the dough but she pinched it shut and kept going.



It was placed onto the baking sheet, with the edges stretched to be flatter and fill out more of the pan. The sauce was immersion blended and painted on with some olive oil.



Aside from the mozzarella there was also kale, sundried tomatoes, artichokes, fermented garlic, and feta cheese for topping. Everything was chopped up super fine.



Amy's pizza expertise led her to leave the center of the pizza topping-free, that way it doesn't get soggy.



And this is how it emerged from a 490F oven, ready to eat. Noms.

the deli cup life

I'm fond of storing food in deli cups because they remind me of culinary school, and many of the restaurants and bakeries I staged (tried out) at. Lately the deli cups have been instrumental in my way of eating - which is to cook and store every ingredient separately, to then create unique combinations of ingredients at each meal.

Like when I made boxed white cheddar mac n cheese (with bacon grease, sour cream, and goat cheese added), I topped it using the deli cups I had of caramelized onions, crispy bacon, and finely minced chives.



Then the other morning, when I felt like making an omelette, I basically set up an omelette station with different ingredients. The egg part was just beaten egg with salt and pepper, poured onto a hot oiled pan. The toppings were caramelized onions, sauteed mushrooms, goat cheese, and chives. Oh and sriracha because I can't forget that hot sauce.



Ate it with a side kale salad. Mmm.

dimsum & noodle

Tonight Amy and I headed to Dimsum and Noodle for dinner. And it wasn't our first time trying to go - the first time it was Tuesday night and they were closed (?!) and we ended up at Miga Korean BBQ across the street. Except that palatial place had nary a diner, and all the staff were so blatantly and weirdly neglectful that we really started to believe that it was a front for the Korean mafia and that the only people coming in for "pickup orders" really were just picking up drugs.

Anyway, this time I called ahead and they were open. And we went and ordered dimsum and noodles, just like their name suggested.



Since they didn't have soup dumpling sauce, I taught Amy to mix scallion pancake sauce and vinegar together in the spoon, and then slurp it with the dumpling on top. And, speaking of the scallion pancake, it was the crispiest I had ever tasted, and that alone is reason enough to go back. Sad that Jonah wasn't there.