Friday nights are our favorite night of the week to sit on our front porch and watch all the campers, tourists, and the weekend hustle and bustle go by.
I hurried today to be done with work and my chores by 5 pm or also known as happy hour.
I went straight from the production kitchen to making deliveries to three of our local wholesale customers. I had to stop to get a few groceries for the weekend.
As soon as I walked into the crowded store I thought, ”Kill me now and put me out of misery!” Ugh! I got what I needed, minus a few items the store was out of and got the hell out of there asap.
Not that I am complaining one bit, but the forecasted rainy day turned out to be glorious! I got sidetracked from my chores to take a swim then got cracking.
I wanted to make something easy to eat on the porch. So instead of leaving the chicken breasts whole, I cut them into strips for chicken marsala. No knives necessary. Boom!
Some rice pilaf and fresh green beans made for a fine Friday night porch supper.
It’s going to be an early night; we are up before the ass-crack of dawn tomorrow at 4:30 am to get ready for our farmers market in Troy, NY.
I just looked at the time and it is 8:45 pm and is still daylight! I wait all year for this.
What makes a perfect bite? Everyone has their ideas of what a perfect bite of food is. Some people prefer sweet bites, and others like me choose savory ones.
A perfect bite is when the taste is in perfect balance. Sweet, salty, soft, crunchy, sour, bitter, acidy, and umami are all in perfect harmony.
I’ve written about umami before and how it is considered the fifth sense of taste. It is what brings a dish over the finish line of deliciousness.
My perfect bite was a simple taco. A homemade corn tortilla with smoked brisket, creamy coleslaw, crunchy quick-pickled red onions, cilantro, and thinly sliced jalapeño peppers.
The outdoor kitchen is open! I love my flat-top grill! ❤️
The brisket was the soft, unctuous umami, and the creamy coleslaw was crunchy, which also cooled down the jalapeño pepper. The quick-pickled red onion was another crunch element, along with the acid needed to cut through the fatty richness of the brisket.
The cilantro? It is put on a dish for a purpose and not a garnish. I use cilantro in all my Thai, Indian and Mexican cooking. Some people say it tastes like soap; ok, I get it; but it enhances a dish with brightness and a unique flavor for the rest of us.
I make, taste, and eat a lot of food, so it should be applauded when a perfect bite stands out! Bravo!
I would consider myself a francophile. I love French cooking. I also love French decor items, cookware, china, and furniture. My favorite place in the world and on my short bucket list of places to visit is Paris.
One of my good friends is moving back to France after living there on and off again for 40 years. She packed up some things to be shipped over and got rid of the rest of her stuff. She was starting over. Many of the pieces of furniture came from France and were shipped over to the US many years ago.
By a twist of fate, I was lucky enough to have two pieces of French antique bedroom furniture from her childhood. The pieces are petit but so is our bedroom.
A couple of years ago, when we painted and redecorated our bedroom, we sold our enormous furniture and picked up two small dressers secondhand. I have found that I missed all that storage in our bedroom and could never find anything in my dark closet.
Now, I have a “new” French armoire and a make-up vanity. I’ve wanted a vanity like this for decades! The two pieces fit our bedroom perfectly and look like they belong there, as if they’ve been there all along.
I love the stool to the vanity and it’s so comfy!
I also adopted my friend’s large rosemary plant she’s had for years, taking it in during the winter and putting it outside in the summer. She was going to leave it behind but asked if I wanted it. Of course, I would take it!
Fingers crossed I don’t kill her plant.
The plant is so aromatic you can smell it as you walk by it, and I cook a lot with rosemary. I hope to keep it alive and happy; I will try my best after asking her how to care for it.
Our bedroom is my little piece of France right here in Vermont. It feels like a small apartment bedroom in Paris. I love it! I am glad Marty likes it, too, even though it is on the feminine side. Nothing else in our house is girlie or frilly, but our bedroom is the one exception.
My friend purchased a new home in France with plenty of room for guests. We have a standing invitation anytime we can get to France. Plus, I could have a tour guide show me the ropes in Paris and not be disappointed by tourist traps.
Even though I didn’t see my friend often, catching up when we picked up my new Parisian furniture was a sweet goodbye. I’ll miss her, but I know France is where her heart is.
It’s another gorgeous day here in Vermont on Memorial Day. We have been sitting on the front porch having coffee, enjoying the sunshine and watching the world go by. I should say flying by because people drive 20 mph over the speed limit all the time.
It just doesn’t feel right posting about food or any other stupid shit about my life today.
I am not ”that guy” that posts on my Facebook wall a ”Happy whatever the fuck” to all my Facebook friends, although I have to say its good to see the people who only post on holidays are still alive and well.
Today isn’t about food, drinks, bbq, parties, the kick-off to summer, or the official “it’s ok to wear white pants now” its about honoring and remembering the brave men and women who gave their lives for us.
These are the men and women who give us the freedom to celebrate anyway we wish today or any day including wearing white pants and linen all year.
Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve loved orange-flavored things to eat and smell. Last year, I wrote about an Italian Ice stand in Elizabeth, NJ my father used to take me. An older Italian woman made and sold both lemon and orange Italian Ice. Here is the link to that blog post about Catherine and a photo of her Italian Ice shack.
The Italian ice stand was located in the Italian section of Elizabeth called Peterstown, where both my parents grew up. People stood in line for blocks to get some Italian ice on a hot summer night. I always picked orange, and my dad always picked lemon.
I loved that there were pits in the ice which collected at the bottom of the white paper cup, which I spit one by one seeing how far they would go. My mother would have never allowed this kind of behavior; hell, I got slapped and yelled at for blowing bubbles in my chocolate milk whenever we ate at a diner, the only place I drank chocolate milk with a straw.
I still like to blow bubbles in my chocolate milk, and it has never bubbled over. As an adult I can’t understand the big deal; neither of my boys even wanted to blow bubbles in their milk so I never got to “let” them do it.
Last week, at our farmers market in Troy, NY, I sampled a tiny bit of orangecello from a new vendor two spots down from us. I am a big fan of limoncello and used to make it often; in fact, I have a bottle in the bar fridge right now. But the orangecello? Holy moly, it was like having that Italian ice again, but even better because it has booze in it!
I didn’t even ask how much it was and bought a bottle. I, the frugal cook and shopper, was ready to pay whatever the cost. It was a little high, but this is strictly for sipping straight up and respecting the liquor.
Here is the weird part, to me anyway, the Italian ice stand in Elizabeth was owned and operated by the DiCosmo family. The orangecello is made by a chef from Villa di Como in Italy along with a variety of sauces and oils.
Yesterday, we were on the road making deliveries, our first stop was in Clifton Park, NY. We went to 518 Donuts, a shop that sells gluten-free fried chicken and gluten-free donuts. The business owners have so much passion and are super friendly.
They have committed to the seriousness and safety making sure there is no cross-contamination occurring between their regular high-end donuts and the gluten-free ones. High-end, meaning store made with kick-ass toppings and flavors. If I could have had a regular donut I would have had a hard time choosing between the maple bacon, chocolate-covered strawberry, campfire, Samoas, or french toast.
For gluten-free local readers, all the fried chicken is boneless and gluten-free so there isn’t any confusion about what goes into the fryer. The chicken is prepared Korean style meaning they fry it twice. It’s crunchy af and not greasy.
They also have chicken fried dough with this amazing dipping sauce which is off the fucking hook. Their potato crisps and hashbrowns are also gluten-free. It’s worth the trip over to Clifton Park, just be prepared it’s a little pricey but worth every penny! They are in the midst of opening a second location in Troy, NY, how psyched are we?
Marty had a gluten-free breakfast sandwich, and he said it was the best one he has had for years since we have been gluten-free. I chose a creamsicle donut; more orange! It tasted exactly like a creamsicle and as good as any regular donut. It was pure decadence. Yum! Whenever I went to an ice cream truck as a kid, I always chose creamsicle popsicles.
The last tale of the orange happened just a little later on. We stopped at Crossgates mall looking for some sandals for me. We were both thirsty so Marty suggested getting an Orange Julius. Orange Julius is one of our favorite drinks dating way back to the 80s at a mall in NJ.
If you aren’t familiar with Orange Julius it’s a juice and smoothie shop. I didn’t remember them having so many different smoothies, but then again I never look at the menu because I know exactly what I am ordering.
With my Jersey accent, I say “are-ange” not “or-ange” which I argue about with Sam often when he corrects me. Shut up kid, I say it correctly because of this joke I learned when I was around 6 years old. This is how it goes:
Knock knock. Who’s there? Apple. Apple who? Knock knock. Who’s there? Apple. Apple who? Knock knock. Who’s there? Orange. Orange who? “Are-ange” you glad I didn’t say apple? 😜
Happy Friday! Enjoy your holiday weekend! We are off to the farmer’s market tomorrow. We are making different kinds of grilled pizzas with drinks and a campfire with our neighbors on Sunday night. Hopefully, we can take off on Monday. We have the shortest but cutest Memorial Day parade here in Arlington that we look forward to every year.
I just pulled some Cheddar, Chive, and Maple Bacon Scones out of the oven for breakfast tomorrow morning. I may have to try one of the little ones just to make sure they are tasty. BTW…they are! Here is the recipe link I used. As a side note, I add maple syrup to the heavy cream that is painted on the scones before they go into the oven.
These last two production days have been long and its only Tuesday. We are taking a short break in between production and deliveries so I am sneaking in a quick post while I have the chance.
On Sunday I took the day off. Boy am glad I did. The dinner I prepped ahead came out super tasty and cooked in minutes.
I used my flat sword types of skewers for the grilled marinated pork. I made a traditional Spanish marinade which was a flavor bomb!
Since the pork were on large flat metal skewers, the meat cooked quickly. Faster than I imagined, its a good thing I had my trusty temperature probe with me.
The chunks of pork cooked on the grill took about 8 minutes. Thank goodness I decided to brine the pork first or it would have dried out.
Yum!
I will definitely be making these pork kebabs again. Last night for dinner I made pork sub sandwiches topped with quick pickled onions and cole slaw. It was fast, easy and delicious. I love leftovers!
Gotta go! Deliveries are waiting and I didn’t have time to edit; my apologies.
When I was a teenager, one of the most popular songs in the 80s from the group Frankie Goes To Hollywood was called, “Relax.”
This song was so popular that everyone walked around wearing white t-shirts with black writing that said, “Frankie say relax.” Modern knock-offs are wrong because they say, “Frankie says relax.” Don’t go fucking up my generation’s sayings, guys.
That being said, I crave one thing all week—something that I crave more than food or drinks; relaxation. Everyone does, I think.
Marty and I have a problem relaxing on our only day off of the week; we can’t. On Monday morning, speaking for myself, I am pissed at myself that I didn’t stick to my guns.
While cooking is relaxing to me, most Sundays, I overdo it by making something elaborate or super time-consuming. I start big projects that leave me exhausted, or I run around like an idiot running errands, including grocery shopping with a store full of other tired working-class folks like me. Everyone gives each other that knowing sympathetic look like this sucks, but someone needs to do it. We all know those someones are us.
Last night, we both went to bed early. I was asleep before 10 pm for an insomniac like me, which is rare. I guess waking up at 4:30 am plus the 90+ degree weather at the farmers market and talking for 5 hours straight to a couple of hundred people kicked my ass.
At the Troy Market yesterday!
As soon as we got home from the market, we threw on our bathing suits and jumped into the pool. It felt fantastic! All the city grime and clammy skin went away as our body temps dropped immediately, which helped rejuvenate us for a couple more hours.
I slept great last night in our air-conditioned bedroom, waking up on my own at 6:30 am. The first thing I thought of when I opened my eyes was, “ Maybe I should go food shopping this morning.” Difficult time robbing recipes started shooting around in my brain before I realized what I was doing.
Before I got out of bed, I told myself, “Knock it off, asshole!” I quickly remembered the promise I made to myself about a day of rest.
Next week, we have a big order to fill for our Pennsylvania distributor, Alpine Meat & Wurst House, and an extensive delivery day on Thursday. I have to rest, dammit, or I will whine all week.😬
I came downstairs and found Marty and Klaus on the front porch. He was sipping coffee and enjoying the quiet Sunday morning and sunshine.
I did the same and mentally put together the rest of my day. We have to eat later, so I decided to make grilled marinated Spanish pork skewers with yellow rice and peas.
I got my frozen pork tenderloins in a brine which is twofold. The brine helps the meat defrost quickly and adds moisture to the meat while it’s grilling.
I made a simple Spanish marinade for the pork and set up my rice cooker to start the yellow rice 6 hours later. After the pork is defrosted and sits in the brine for 2 hours, I will pat it dry, cut it into large cubes and get it into the marinade. I plan to let the pork marinate for at least 4-5 hours.
While doing this, I saw Marty running back and forth the driveway and asked him what he was doing. He said, “Farting around.” This is Marty’s way of relaxing because he can’t sit still even more than me!
Marty’s Sunday morning arts and crafts project.
The next thing I saw was him installing a small white shelf on the front porch railing he had just made for his side. I know it’s a drink holder shelf after watching him balance his drink glass on the porch railing last night, but I will amuse myself later and ask him what it’s for.
For the rest of the day, I will be strictly poolside. I’ve been waiting years for this and will force myself to do it. The struggle is real. 😂
Dinner is planned and prepped; the only thing left to do is dig out a bathing suit and start doing what “Frankie say;” relax!
Yesterday, Marty and I were delivering in Saratoga & Albany, NY. We stopped at Restaurant Depot to pick up a few things for us and a few cleaning items for the production kitchen.
As we walked around, we noticed many things out of stock again. Things were out of stock during the pandemic, but then things got better. Things have slid backward. On the drive home, I started to think about other food shortages in history and how people dealt with them.
During WW2 the people who were affected most by food rations and shortages were the women of the households who did the shopping and cooking for their families. Forgotten heroes of wartime were the women who had to make do.
They were encouraged to keep a positive attitude. Publications wrote suggestions for using war rations. Their patriotic duty was to fight the war at home by changing their families’ diets and being careful not to overbuy or have any food waste.
“We must all help win the war and one way is to save sugar for the solider boys.”
I say it was their patriotic duty because the rationed food was being saved for the soldiers fighting in WW2; their job was to figure out how to cook and bake without many staple items they were used to.
The first item rationed was sugar, then coffee. Next came meat, butter, cheeses, and fats. As women started figuring out how to cook differently, they shared their recipes by sending the recipes to the newspapers to print.
Women were united by the recipes and food they shared. Clever substitutions and ideas sparked more ideas and recipes. Women were still cooking delicious, healthy food, even with food rations.
One of the most popular recipes was for victory or war cakes. Food manufacturers began to print recipes for war cakes using their products. One example is The Crisco Victory White Cake recipe called on women to bake for their families. The recipe started with, “Lady, your family will say you’re a magician when you serve this new mouth-watering sugar-saving Victory Cake!”
Some substitutions for sugar were the liquid from soaked raisins and other dried fruits, corn syrup, and honey. Nestle encouraged women in an ad in the Saturday evening post to stop buying chocolate, announcing, “Chocolate is fighting food!”
Shortening and margarine were used to replace the hard to come by butter. Spice cakes replaced chocolate cakes and so on and so forth.
Vegetarian diets began during WW2 out of necessity. Women were encouraged to serve dinners such as Meatless Mondays and Wheatless Wednesdays. Home cooks learned how to use macaroni, rice, crackers, processed cheese, and spam as part of their daily cooking.
They used every part of the vegetable and meat. They saved the fat from meats since cooking oil was rationed.
Fanny Farmer 1943 edition cookbook.
Casseroles used small amounts of meat but were delicious and satisfying. Soups and stews used every scrap of vegetable, throwing nothing away. Now, do you know why your grandmothers washed their tin foil?
One of my favorite savory pie creations used the entire potato. The potato skins were boiled until they were soft and became the bottom crust of the pie. This is fucking genius! Kudos to whoever came up with that one.
I remember both of my grandmothers talking about making mock apple pie. The “apples” were soaked Ritz crackers. Welch Rarebit was another classic, and American Chop Suey became popular using only a small amount of meat, elbow macaroni, and tomato sauce.
Creamed eggs and peasAmerican chop sueyCreamed eggs on crackersCreamed potatoes with frankfurtersThe cookbook I found at school in an old filing cabinet when I worked as a lunch lady. It belonged to “No Way May” back in 1946-1947. The war may have been over for a year, but the ladies were still cooking like during wartime or food wasn’t available yet.
Can you even imagine if people today had to cook, let alone be creative, using only what they could find? Could Americans do without prepared and frozen foods if necessary? Could people cook only what they could afford due to the high food prices? Could they go without many staple items? Would cooks come together and help one another?
I cook dinner almost every night and have always been creative and frugal, but the shortages I saw yesterday were disturbing. While we were driving, Marty talked about how bad things were getting, and I tried to be positive and said, “But they will get better.” He told me, “Good for you to think like that; I like that.”
Like during the war, I thought of how scary it must have been to know that there won’t be items available. The rations changed often keeping everyone on their toes.
The women who helped “win the war” are amazing heroes to me, stepping up to the plate and doing simply what they needed to do. There were no other options, but they did it, and did it well! Many recipes are still used today, especially in vegetarian cooking.
I have a few 1940s and wartime ration cookbooks that are prized possessions of mine. Some I found at garage or book sales. I have my grandmother Nana’s handwritten cookbook, which has the recipe for Poor Man Cake.
I also was gifted my biological grandmother’s Victory Cookbook, the Wartime Edition. Having something that belonged to my grandmother, whom I never knew, is a strong connection to her. Looking at the pages of recipes that looked like favorites makes me smile.
When I go to bed at night, I give away all my worries to God. I know I don’t have to list them because He knows everything, but listing them helps me watch them float away. Last night, I added ample food supply for our country to my list. Amen.
When I was picking out my flowers and herbs, I smelled the intoxicating smell of an Indian restaurant. I’ve said this many times before, but we live in a food desert; there is no Indian food for miles.
I started sniffing around the herb plant rack, and on the other side, my nose zeroed in. I put my nose into the plant and took a big sniff and looked at the name of the plant; a curry plant? This is something new to me. Not to be confused with curry leaves from the curry tree native to India. Curry leaves are used largely in South Indian cuisine.
I waited until I purchased my plants, then took a tiny nibble of the curry plant. It didn’t taste like curry; it tasted like bitter parsley. Weird, usually the nose and taste buds are on the same page. Not in this case.
I read that the bright yellow flowers that blossom on the curry plant taste like bleu cheese! You know I’ll be tasting those suckers to see for myself. I’ll report back.
Dwarf plant on the left and tall on the right. Rosemary is in the middle.
I planted the two varieties of curry plants I purchased, one tall and one dwarf in a terracotta herb box with rosemary in between. Curry plants like sandy soil, so I added sandy soil to the bottom of the planter box. They like it hot and need drainage.
When I walk by the plants, I can smell that intoxicating smell. When I water the plants, the scent comes out even more. Today, after a heavy downpour, the smell of curry was strong, a smell I love. Shit, it made me hungry. Lol.
I had nothing planned for dinner but suddenly craved Indian food big time. The only protein I knew I could defrost quickly was shrimp. I decided to make Curried Shrimp with Basmati Rice.
I didn’t become familiar with Indian cuisine until adulthood and I love it. Unlike Chinese cuisine, Indian food is easy to make at home with a few different spices.
The curry powder you buy from a store is a combination of different spices. There is no such thing as a curry spice like cinnamon or nutmeg. Another Indian spice called garam masala is another combination of different spices.
Every Indian family has its versions of both curry powder and garam masala. I have made my own following a recipe, but I do keep store-bought curry powder on hand for quick use on a weeknight or in curried chicken salad or curried deviled eggs.
I looked up a few different recipes to remind myself how to make curried shrimp. I made an Indian version of curried shrimp, but there are also Jamaican, Thai, and other nationalities’ versions.
I threw some basmati rice into my rice cooker and started putting together the rest of the meal. The recipe goes super quick, perfect for a weeknight dinner. You can buy raw shrimp already peeled to save time. I always have shrimp in the freezer for quick dinners.
Here is the link to the Curried Shrimp recipe I used the first time I made curried shrimp; now, I improvise by adding a few more spices and tweaks to the dish.
This is a very home-cook-friendly recipe without any crazy or hard-to-find ingredients. It is simple and straightforward. Remember, Indian curried dishes are only as spicy as you make them.
Anyone new to cooking Indian cuisine may consider purchasing a curry powder from McCormick or a store brand. These are made for mainstream America and aren’t too spicy.
If you like Indian food and want to try something more authentic, you can get curry powder in an ethnic store. These have a bit more spice and flavor than the supermarket brands. If you like to cook, you can mix up a batch of curry powder yourself. Spices at the ethnic stores are very inexpensive; I buy all my spices there.
If you aren’t familiar with or afraid of Indian cuisine, taste a small amount of the curry powder on your finger or spoon. Is it spicy? If not, start by adding half of what the recipe calls for. If it’s still not spicy, add the other half. It is totally up to you if this is something new or you aren’t sure about.
I’ve written about one of my cooking students, MJ, who was afraid of Indian and Thai foods. She was worried they would be too spicy. It turns out that after learning in class that she controlled the spice, Butter Chicken became one of her favorite dishes. It’s one of her go-to recipes now.
The house smelled so good while I was making the curried shrimp. Marty could smell it when he was sitting on the front porch. It came out delicious, if I do say so myself. It was incredibly flavorful and satisfied that craving I’ve had since I brought my curry plants home two weeks ago.
I guess it’s a good thing I do live in a food desert since it forces me to learn to cook ethnic foods that aren’t available. Whenever I perfect any new dish, I consider it another notch in my cooking belt or apron, I should say.
For local people, curry plants are available at The Market Wagon and the flower market on Benmont Avenue in Bennington if you want to check them out for yourselves. It’s more of a novelty thing since you can’t eat it, but looks great in flower beds or containers mixed with other plants.
I’ve been quiet all week in terms of my blog. Why? I haven’t had a damn thing to write about, of interest anyway.
I wrote three blog posts but deleted them. All I could hear booming in my head was the voice of my friend and writing mentor Jon saying, “Why should I give a shit about this?”
About those three pieces? He was right. I don’t write for the sake of writing; I write when I have something noteworthy to share. It took me six months into the blog to realize this.
So what in the hell did I do this week that wasn’t noteworthy? Production and deliveries. Planted flowers, herbs, and sunflower seeds. I cooked mediocre meals. I cleaned out my closet—big shit.
Definitely, nothing to report about tackling the never-ending chore of laundry, but it’s good to see other people feel the same way about it as I do.
#100% true memes.
Lately, I’ve been good about putting my clean clothes away the same day and not leaving them in a clothes basket for days on end.
I am so freaking happy when I finish the laundry in one day and do not start wearing the clean clothes straight from the laundry basket and not my closet. Other people do this, right? So not something new to confess.
There are so many memes on the internet about laundry. Some make me howl laughing because they are accurate, and most people can relate. The ones that can’t relate most likely can fold a fitted sheet properly too!
I saw this meme yesterday about laundry that solidified the decision of why we don’t have a chair in our bedroom or a piece of exercise equipment.
I have a friend that used to say they are the proud owners of the most expensive clothes rack known to humanity; their Bow Flex machine. 😂
A relaxing Sunday morning.
It’s Sunday morning, and we are sitting on the front porch enjoying a cup of coffee. I don’t have a damn thing planned for dinner or even on my schedule. It’s cloudy out for the first time in over a week, so I won’t feel guilty if I stay inside or on the porch all day.
I did make lazy mock Eggs Benedict for breakfast this morning. Tasted like the real McCoy with 1/4 the work on a lazy day.
What will next week bring? Something excellent or noteworthy to post? We will have to wait and see. Will the laundry get done in all one day? I won’t hold my breath. Lol.