Naan

Besides Chai, my other favorite Indian staple is naan, a grilled flatbread similar to a pita or tortilla.  Naan is an excellent accompaniment to Spicy Chicken in Peanut Sauce, curry, or anything else that tastes better with white, unhealthy carbohydrates wrapped around it.   I even considered resurrecting my hummus recipe that I so miserably failed at making earlier this semester.  However, Hannah has wanted to make curry for a while, so we are going to make that instead of reliving my painful hummus experience (the curry recipe will be posted on Friday). 

My dough stared back at me with a definite look as it relentlessly flaked and fell apart despite my kneading, as if to remind me of my own incompetence to perform a simple task.   As I slowly kneaded the defiance out, the simple, redundant processes of pushing, turning, pushing, turning, make me thinking reminded me of how far removed I am from the rest of the world.  Possessing the ability to cook is unnecessary for me.  I could easily eat out every night or put the food industrial’s latest frozen concoction in my microwave.  However, for many women, cooking represents much more than a hobby they can dabble in.  For many, cooking equates to a survival skill, both for physical and social survival.  For centuries, it has been expected that women cook, and these social expectations cannot be thrown without repercussions.  

Looking at my crumbling dough, I wonder if I could ever survive in that culture where cooking is necessary, even if I was raised learning the intricacies of cooking.  Although some people will argue that I live a better life because I am separated from the entrapment of domesticity, while I do not necessarily disagree with them, I also feel that cooking is still often negatively equated with patriarchal control.  Cooking is a survival skill, and if people only know how to order at Applebee’s or put Marie Calendar in the microwave, haven’t they lost something?  Isn’t it a bit strange that as American’s, we no longer have to possess a skill that, on a fundamental level, is necessary for us to remain alive?  If we lose touch with our basic needs and skills, does that mean we are losing touch with our humanity?    

Recipe: http://allrecipes.com//Recipe/naan/Detail.aspx

Lasagna

This is the recipe I wish my mom had 12 years ago.  I have always loved lasagna, but my mom seldom made it because it was “too putzy*.”  I lived such a deprived childhood; my mom would so rarely make one of my favorite dishes that “lasagna” was almost eradicated from my lexicon (and my stomach).  In infrequent moments of weakness, my mom would buy us Stouffer’s lasagna.  After my brother devoured the last piece of gooey deliciousness, my stomach would long for the tastes and fulfillment that so infrequently found home in its gluttonous cavern. 

My mom didn’t make lasagna because it was an overly complex recipe, but rather because she hated to boil the noodles before assembling the lasagna.  If my mom had this recipe when I was growing up, I could have had lasagna every week because it requires no boiling. That’s right mom, you stole my sweet days of childhood lasagna eating because you never discovered that boiling is unnecessary.  However, I do not blame her because I got this recipe from my lasagna-loving roommate’s mother, who has two doctorate degrees.  Apparently it takes two doctorate degrees to discover that if you pour about a cup of water in the sides of the lasagna pan before you bake it, the oven will do the boiling for you.  So what did I learn from this recipe?  That if I truly want to stymie the conundrums of cooking, I had better prepare to be in school for quite a while.    

*Is “putzy” a real word?  It’s sure not in the dictionary, but it is definitely a favorite descriptor of my mother’s. 

Ingredients

Group A (combine in its own bowl)

1.       1 pound ground turkey or beef (cooked and drained)

2.       1 tbsp minced garlic

3.       1tsp dried oregano

4.       1 tsp salt

5.       2- 15oz cans of tomatoes diced

6.       1 jar spaghetti sauce

Group B (combine in its own bowl)

1.       3 cups creamy cottage cheese

2.       1/2 cup parmesan cheese

3.       2 tbsp parsley

4.       2 eggs

5.       1 tsp salt

6.       1 tsp pepper

Other ingredients to be used in layering process

1.       1 pound mozzarella cheese shredded

2.       extra parmesan cheese for the top

3.       1 package lasagna noodles (uncooked)

How to Layer:

1.       Start with a scoop of sauce to cover the bottom of a 9X13 inch pan

2.       cover with a layer of noodles (uncooked noodles)

3.       1/2 cottage cheese mixture

4.       1/2 mozzarella

5.       layer of sauce

6.       Repeat the layers (don't over fill the pan - it will bubble over and cause a mess)

Baking:

1.       Add parmesan cheese on the top and put 1 cup water in at the edges of the pan

2.       Cover with foil and bake for 45 minutes at 375 degrees

3.       Uncover and cook for 15 minutes or until the middle is hot and the edges are browned

4.       Let it cool for about 15 minutes or it will be runny.

Pretzels

The large pink plastic bowl stood waiting to devour Hannah’s and I’s carefully measured ingredients, like it does every time Hannah and I make pretzels.  Hannah and I make pretzels for two reasons:

1) we are having a salt craving that cannot be stymied by cheese alone (we are true Wisconsinites; well Hannah almost is, she just missed the boarder by about 80 miles)

 2) We mentally can no longer face our piles of homework without a break.  Sometimes I wonder whether the yeast we put into the pretzels manages to creep down the hall and into our homework because our piles of homework always seem to rise more than our pretzels.

I could write a whole separate blog about all the times we make pretzels.  We have been slowly progressing towards creating the perfect imitation of an Auntie Annie’s pretzel.  We started with Hannah’s old pretzel recipe from third grade, and now use this recipe found at http://www.food.com/recipe/auntie-annes-pretzels-copycat-59462, with some modifications.  Last weekend, Tony and I ended discussing why our pretzels didn’t get the same brown crust as Auntie Annie’s.  Apparently, Hannah and I had been missing a big step in the pretzel process: boiling.  So this time when we were making pretzels, Hannah and I were being extra careful, hoping that this batch of pretzels would be our long desired Auntie Annie’s pretzels. 

As I was measuring out the salt (I was even using the official teaspoons, not just my cereal spoon, which my mom tells me is about a teaspoon), I said to Hannah, “Let’s measure very carefully, and follow all the directions precisely.” I spoke a moment too soon, because I accidently poured too much salt into the teaspoon, and it filled up past the brim.  As usual, Hannah saved the pretzels by quickly sticking her hand under the teaspoon and catching the excess salt.  I stared at her stupidly, humored at my own ineptitude to carefully measure.  After we mixed the dough, let it rise, and rolled it into pretzel shapes, we put on the water to being the boiling process.

Tony had briefly described the boiling process to me, but rather look up exactly how to boil pretzels, Hannah and decided to follow Tony’s vague directions.  As the water simmered, we added some baking soda (too much it turns out) to the water and then plopped in the pretzels for a 30-45 second bath.  We didn’t know how long to leave them in there, but this amount of time seemed to work out alright.  Then we baked them according to the directions. 

Overall, these pretzels were a large improvement over our last several batches, and we got the brown crust around them that we desired.  However, for about 8-9 cups of water, don’t put in more than about 2 teaspoons of baking soda.  The pretzels tasted a bit too much like baking soda.  The bottoms also got a little crispy, but that is probably the fault of our archaic oven.  If you’re an experienced baker, and know what else is missing in this recipe, let me know.  Otherwise, if you’re a newbie like me, I would wait a bit on this recipe until Hannah figure out a few more of the subtleties of pretzel making.  Don’t worry it won’t take us too long; we make pretzels at least once a week.  

Leftovers

During my high school days, there was only one thing I dreaded coming home too, and it was not my parents after breaking curfew (because I never had a curfew).  It was leftover night.   I have always hated leftovers.  For some reason, after removing food from its pan and placing it into plastic square containers, I feel that the food takes on a new unappetizing life.  Squished tight into too-small containers to save refrigerator space, it becomes about as appealing as squeezing into my middle school jeans after a night of cooking making. Something about cold, plastic-cased, aging food is very unappealing, unless you’re a microbe. Despite the fact that the coolness of the refrigerator is supposed to prevent microbes from slowing turning your lasagna into mold, there is just something off-putting about the microbe breeding ground we more politely call the refrigerator.  In high school, I used to excessively clean the refrigerator, without being asked.  I think I felt, subconsciously, that if my refrigerator was coated in a thin layer of Clorox, that somehow I would be more inclined to eat my mom’s last night’s creation. 

                However, college is all about challenging, and sometimes changing, your perspectives.  For me, college living has changed my perspective on leftovers.  Two weeks ago, I had enchiladas, soup, and my roommate’s lasagna for my dinner options.  Last week, too overwhelmed by my midterm test and term paper, I reverted back to my old habits and ate Mac and Cheese, Lipton Soup Packets (the fancy form of Ramen), and about 7-8 bagels that were leftover from a conference I attended.   Last week I realized that I missed leftovers. I kept opening up my fridge (which ironically is much more revolting than my mother’s and hasn’t felt the sweet kiss of Clorox because the refrigerator existed before Clorox was invented), hoping to find some leftover creation waiting for me.  By Friday, I really felt desperate.  Turns out my body had adjusted to eating something besides string cheese and bean tacos, and my body could no longer handle meager rations paired with increased stomach acid from my stress level.  I can’t wait to make a new meal this week because that will mean I have new leftovers.    

Cannelloni

         I hate onions. I have shed more tears over onions than anything else in my life, which is saying a lot since I cry over almost anything (I even cried when Andy gave away his toys at the end of Toy Story 3).  I don’t even have to be cutting the onions either.  Their presence alone makes my eyes water for hours afterwards.  Can your eyes have a food allergy?  Because I feel like mine do.

          Despite my apparent allergic reaction to the onions, this was a great recipe; although it is not one you would want to attempt unless you are either 1) an advanced cook 2) have the help of advanced cooks   3) stupidly adventurous and willing to go hungry if you mess up.  However, Annie and Tony didn’t really follow a recipe, so perhaps this recipe is as malleable as the homemade pasta Annie and Tony whipped up.  Annie and Tony have surpassed the phase of cooking where a recipe is needed.  Their cooking has become a smorgous board of past experience and knowledge, with a large dollop of creativity and improvisation mixed in.  They are like the jazz artists who no longer need sheet music; they can simply taste a timbre of the style and follow where it takes them, creating in every step. 

           If you don’t quite understand the following recipe, it’s because there wasn’t one.  I kept trying to pin Annie and Tony down on definitive’s, but like the jazz artists, their creativity could not be well transcribed into understandable sheet music for us less creative cooks.  So you can try to follow my instructions, or if they seem to convoluted to you, try this recipe which is similar to what Annie and Tony made (minus the pork): http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/pork-spinach-and-ricotta-manicotti-recipe/index.html

          Besides the fact that Annie and Tony don’t need to follow recipes anymore, they also make everything themselves, so explaining this recipe becomes even more complicated.  So let’s start with the pasta.  Cannelloni is homemade pasta that has not been dried, and typically means that you need to make it yourself.  The recipe is as follows:

Cannelloni

                2 cups Semolina flour (this is the typical pasta flour)

                2 cups whole wheat flour

                Mix together the fours with some water. I really have no idea how much water they put in, but it was about the consistency of sugar dough.  After letting the dough sit for an hour we rolled it out and cut it into rectangles.  We then filled the rectangles with the following:

Fresh Ricotta

½ Gallon whole milk

1 cup heavy whipping cream

3 Tb of lemon juice

Warm milk and cream to roaring boil.  Add lemon juice. Turn down heat cook till it curdles (whatever that means)

*Or you could be lazy like me and go to Wal-Mart and buy ricotta. 

Fresh Parmesan

 1 ½ cups Fresh Mozzarella (or 2 cups if your me or Hannah, and you are going to eat about ½ cup before you bake it).

Italian Seasoning

One onion

After we filled the rectangles and rolled them up, we put them in pan, covered them with pasta sauce, and let them bake at 350 for about 25 minutes.