Wednesday Wisdom From Julia

"The best way to execute French cooking is to get good and loaded and whack the hell out of a chicken."

The Original Drunken Chef

Wednesday Wisdom From Julia

"Cooking is like love; it should be entered into with abandon or not at all."

Preparation...I've Moved Up a Stage

Bring it you delightful confection...I'm ready.



I'm going to need some moral support here people! Let me hear it!

Wednesday Wisdom From Julia

"The only real stumbling block is fear of failure. In cooking you've got to have a what-the-hell attitude."

True talk Julia, true talk.

A Foodie Stumble Through Washington, D.C.

For those of you who live under a rock and could not guess where I was from the out of focus  obviously professionally shot photo of me in the mysterious, Plexi-glassed kitchen, I was in the Smithsonian standing in front of Julia Child's Kitchen....and I was squeeing myself.

Julia's Kitchen for those of you who cannot make it there; here is a higher quality slightly more professional photo tour of its awesomeness.

What was I doing in Washington D.C. you ask? Lobbying for better food labeling, food handling/processing, or clearer marking of genetically modified foods? Sadly no. Instead, I was learning about a doctoral program, seeing the campus, and generally trying not make a fool of myself with the folks that will be deciding what I do for the next 5 years of my life. While Jon and I were there, we decided to take in some sights as well.

The last time I went to D.C. I was not the bumbling fool well-versed culinary genius standing before you today...no wait...that's a lie. I was exactly the same. I just didn't know that I would fall ass-backward into blogging about it at that time. That's why I was not so keen on visiting the kitchen over say...the memorials the last time I was there.

This year, I had exactly 2 things that I wanted to see: Julia Child's Kitchen, and the Jaleo Restaurant. Jaleo was a restaurant I first heard about while watching Iron Chef. Jaleo's Executive Chef, Jose Andres, smacked down my future baby's daddy (and apparent upstairs neighbor), Bobby Flay, during battle goat. When I heard that Andres' restaurant was in D.C., I just had to go. I don't travel to New York or Las Vegas (where Flay and many other challengers have a lot of their restaurants) so I feel like this was one of the few opportunities I would have to eat at Iron Chef quality establishment. More on that later.

This moment is for Julia...

It's too bad it's behind greasy, smudged Plexi-glass.

Me: "How's the picture look?"  Jon: "Great! Totally in focus and everything!"

Notice the clock says 12:20. It is always lunch time in Julia's kitchen.

 Every pot has a purpose.

There were quite literally a MILLION people in there trying to see it. I didn't realize that so many people were interested in seeing her kitchen. Getting these three pictures with no one else in them was enough to get about 1,000 piss-faced, hurry-up scowls. That's okay though. This was my moment with Julia. The first thing that struck me was the color of cabinets; Tiffany Blue. My wedding was in Tiffany Blue, the hovel is decorated in Tiffany Blue, I am at one with Tiffany Blue.

Tiffany Blue is the worst color to try to match for weddings, just fyi. If you are a perfectionist bride, choose another color for the love of God or you will be bald from stress and broke because you practically have to custom dye everything.

The next thing that struck me was how low the stove was. She had the cabinets raised because she was exceptionally tall for a woman. If you do the flash tour linked above, you will notice that it appears a good four inches or so lower than her cabinets. That may not seem like much, but if you are constantly bent over like that, you are going to throw out your back. Here's a picture of it, but it doesn't quite capture the disparity in height. Perhaps that why she had a stool perched there on the other side. So she could sit while she fussed over pots.

 (C) Jeff Kubina

Of course, this range was an incredible improvement over her earlier stoves, like the one seen here.

Another thing that struck me, which I guess it shouldn't have being that I was in a museum and all, was how well used everything appeared. The pots and pans were battered and scorched, jars were full with peeling labels, utensil handles were bent. It reminded me of walking into my grandmother's kitchen as a child. It just goes to show you how blinded by media perceptions we (meaning I) really are. When you watch cooking shows on TV you see nothing but brilliant counters with shiny pots, pans, and appliances. See Exhibits A, B, and C below.

Still too exited to be talking about radishes, Rach.       Image (C) CelebPulp

Chef Anne, I hate to categorize you in the same universe with R.R., but when you say, "big meat" you scare me a little and make me think dirty thoughts. I hope this does not affect our potential future BFF-ness  (Image probably (c) of Food Network)

The Anti-Christ. No explanation required. Image found here.

Another thing that surprised me is how cluttered and random the kitchen appeared. Again, I shouldn't be because Julia actually lived and cooked in that kitchen, putting things in places that were convenient for her regular use. Not like today's TV chefs that have everything symmetrical and neatly stacked/contained. (Review the above if you don't believe me).

Julia really loved knives, but she did not own a knife block. I thought that was interesting. She instead chose to have her knives within easy reach on a magnetic strip. Julia Child was, in fact, childless. Good thing though, so she did not have to worry about any emo neighbor kids getting ahold of her knife collection. Just an interesting observation.

Go cry somewhere else emo kid.

One thing she thought every cook should have was a mortar and pestle. Don't ask me why. I'd probably just end up dropping it on my foot or something, but here is hers.

"An Essential Kitchen Tool"

Another, more surprising, component of the exhibit talked about how Julia didn't start cooking until later in life. And, like myself, she was not always successful. I think it was quintessential Julia to want to teach others and show that she had lots of obstacles to overcome to achieve what she did. It makes one feel almost as if she were your friend instead of some soulless celebrity cook. 

I am not alone.

What touched me the most about the exhibit was the obvious love between Julia and Paul. It was thick in the air like a peppered, white gravy. So much love passed in that kitchen, and as you can read from the picture above, she admitted that there would be no "French Chef" without her beloved Paul. I would not be "The Project" without my beloved Jon, either.

It was a great experience and I found myself welling up with tears as we walked out. The exhibit moved me, and I can't tell you why. It was like being at a celebration of life for a recently departed friend. It's exactly the same way I felt when I watched the end of Julie and Julia, the movie. You see the Smithsonian kitchen kind of fade into the the actual kitchen, with Julia cooking away and Paul coming in with a package that turns out to be Julia's first published cookbook. Julia has changed the lives and inspired many servantless, American cooks like myself. I was just lucky enough to see a small glimpse into her every day life.

Thank you Julia, for everything.

Sunday Suppers: Homemade Veggie Broth to Chicken Noodle Soup

A recent gift of homemade chicken broth got me thinking about how to make my own stock at home. I go through so much stock nowadays because of all these high-falutin' recipes that it is becoming rediculous to spend that much money on a can/box of stock. I thought the easist broth to make would probably be vegetable, plus it would clean out all those random veggies that were racing sneaking towards going bad. There, how's is that for being green and not wasting money?

I found a simple recipe that basically says take any aeromatic veggie, chop into 1 inch chunks, and boil with some spices for about 30 minutes. They listed a variety of vegetables you could include, but here is how I rolled:

4-5 ribbs of celery with some leaves
1 large onion
3 large carrots
5-6 cloves of minced garlic
Hefty sprinkle of thyme and parsley
2 bay leaves
a good pinch of salt

Nom

Some other veggies you may consider including: Green onions, mushrooms, potato peels (washed of course), bell peppers, chard, pea pods, basil, fennel, eggplant, corn cobs, asparagus butts, you name it.

First thing you got to do, aside from cutting your washed veg into 1" chunks, is throw about a tablespoon of olive oil in the bottom of  a soup pot and heat to high. Then, throw in your 1" chopped veggies. Enjoy how aeromatic your house is about to smell. I seriously dragged Jon off the couch while he was The Sweet 16 to come and smell. I was in foodie heaven. If Julia Child's house had a smell, it probably smelled like this...and butter.

Moving on.

Let your veg weep (let go of water) for 5 to 10 minutes. Stir frequently lest you have a charred flavor to your broth. Add 2 quarts of water and then BTB-RTS as Chef Anne would say. (Bring To Boil - Reduce To Simmer). Simmer for 30 minutes uncovered. This is how it will start to look

Om Nom

The next step is to seive out the solids and take only the liquid bits.

"taking the liquid bits"

Then, you are left with all the veggie mush. The broth recipe said to discard the remaining veg stuff. I thought that was a lot of hooha. What a waste. I sat around and thought about what I could do with all that awesome veg, and EUREKA! I got an idea. All of that stuff goes into a chicken noodle soup, so that is what I made. Saved time and money.

Because we aren't big chunks of veggie eaters, I took about 3/4 of veggies and pulverized them in a food processor. That gave me a nice thick puree that fattened up the broth a little. I added some more water and some chopped up chicken breasts. Again, BTBRTS for about 30 minutes. Season to taste.

About 10 minutes before you are ready to serve, add some noodles. I, unfortuantely, added the noodles like 45 minutes ahead and they got a bit mushy. My bad, I was waiting on a loaf of bread to bake. Oh well, lesson learned. Not bad for a first try though.

Chicken Mush-Noodle Soup

Doctor's Orders: Banned From the Kitchen for 8-10 Days.

Let's start off with a video, shall we? Everyone loves Saturday Night Live (the old stuff, not the new garbage they have now) so here is a clip of one of my favorite cooking-related skits. The link has a higher quality video, if that's your bag. Pay attention to the clip because it will come back into play later...

 

Snap back to yesterday, and I am having a pretty super Saturday. I went grocery shopping with Jon and it didn't rain. The weather was simply beautiful, and I felt like a picnic would be a splendid idea. After all the groceries were put away, I set to making us a little lunch for the park. I put some chips in our basket with some baby carrots and almond butter. All that was left was to make some sandwiches. Now, we haven't bought sliced bread since the wedding, because we were given a bread machine. Every week we make a loaf of bread and do our best to manage from it. Sometimes we have huge slices, others our cut at an angle. To curb this, I bought what turned out to be a big piece of junk:

The Norpro 370 Bread Slicer and Guide

Naturally, I want to try to make a nice even cut for my sandwiches. I position my loaf carefully and whip out my serrated knife. I am already on thin ice with knife usage due to this incident and this incident.  I am not supposed to be using them without adult supervision, but it has been over a month since the last knife-related incident. Therefore, I was allowed to put on my big girl panties and go at it alone.

The rest is kind of graphic, so if you have a weak constitution, for the love of God, don't read on.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Final Warning~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I go to slicing and the knife somehow the plastic bit on the guide jiggles the knife loose out of my hand. It goes flipping through the air all Free Willy style and I leap out of the way as to not disembowel myself or skewer my foot. Well, I'm no cat-woman so the knife did catch me and do some carving. The ring finger on my right hand, the hand that was holding the knife was now jagged mince meat. (Think back to SNL skit above) Y'all, there was so much blood, all I could do was scream HELP HELP HELP in increasing higher volumes. The third one finally brings Jon around the corner in a hurried, but not too panicked manner. Here's how it kind of goes down:

 Me: Oh shit! *blood sprays and runs down my arm to my elbow* help! Help! HELP!

Jon: What's up babe? Did you spill someth... OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!!!

(Borrowed drawing from Allie since I couldn't draw even before this incident & obviously can't now.)

One thing to know about Jon is that he is my hero, but blood is not something he handles too well. I'm trying to keep calm as to not add vomit to the gross things that are now festering in my jagged wound. 

Jon: What do I need to do?!?  What do I need to do?!?

Me: *as calm as one can talk after being kabobed* Babe, it's real bad, the cut is jagged. I'm going to let you look at it and you tell me if we need to go to the emergency room. Why don't you get a clean paper towel, because this one is soaked through.

Jon: Yes. *grabs paper towel and begins to sweat profusely*

Me: Okay, take a deep breath and I am gonna show you.

Jon: It's really hot in here, let me turn on the air conditioner real quick...

Me: *dizzy* Ok...

Jon: Okay, I'm ready. 

Me: *reveal*

Jon: Oh SHIT!

Me: *sigh, I know this means a trip to the emergency room*

So we call my mom for advice, she doesn't answer. We call Jon's mom for advice. She says to put an ice pack on it, and that we should probably go to the ER in case I hit a tendon something. All I can think is how massive my ER co-pay is. All Jon seems to care about it getting off the phone. His mom is being super nosy and is trying to get all the details. Finally I yell, "it's bleeding through the rag!" because Jon can't gracefully extracted himself from the phone conversation. He summarily hangs up after yelling, "Mom, I HAVE TO GO!" 

Now Jon wanted to head to the ER and all I see are giant dollar signs getting flushed down the toilet, not to mention having to wait 16 hours to be seen as I bleed to death. Houston's ER situation is awful. I suggest to Jon that we go to an urgent care center down the road, and thankfully he agrees. I was sure he was going to call an ambulance to rush me to a tier 1 trauma center any minute. 

I calmly wrap my hand in another dish towel with ice packs while my man runs about the house grabbing keys, cell phones, etc. as if I was in active labor and the baby was crowning. We get into the car and I look him square in the eye, "Babe, I'm not in labor or anything. Everything is okay so drive carefully. The urgent care center is only like 6 blocks away."

We make it to the urgent care center and are seen right away. The receptionist tries to get me to fill out paperwork and I look at her in disgusted disbelief. Jon snatches up the clipboard and suddenly forgets my birthday, our address, and phone numbers. 

We get taken back and I try to make jokes to the nurse. She doesn't laugh and gives me that "don't give me no nonsense" look... Bitch.

We have had the ice pack on for a good 20 minutes, so the blood was able to clot a little. After cleaning it out with iodine and salt water, we got a view of the damage.

It appears much worse when blood is gushing out it.

I ended up having to get three stitches. Not pleasant when they pumped needles full of numbing agent into the very tightly compartmented cells of a finger. It was painful to say the least. I felt everything and nearly lost my lunch as the doctor practiced for a knot-tying merit badge.

FU!!!!!!!!

We paid the butcher and went back home. We lost only 30 minutes of our Saturday, thank God we avoided the ER. I still wanted to go to the park, Jon said no. He had a cataclysmic migraine relapse and was down for the count. But not before we surveyed the horror that waited for us in the kitchen. We almost called CSI for the amount of blood that was splattered around the kitchen.  Don't believe me? A video tour for your viewing pleasure:

Blood was on the counter, floor, all the way up the fridge, on the appliances above the fridge, the counter above the freezer, the ceiling and the light fixture, back down the counter where I was not even close to, and on the floor.

The worst news of all, no cooking for 8-10 days until the stitches come out. I already got fussed at for cutting butter this morning. I am not happy.

Only thing I'm lacking now is a cone collar and dignity.

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