Five Things Friday, Mostly About Food

I've been scattered this week.  There are, in fact, several good reasons for this and I have decided to cut myself some slack and just not worry about it.   There is a fine line sometimes between complacency and simply going with the flow, but I believe, and hope, that as long as one is aware and intentional, one can hopefully catch oneself before sliding too deeply into any hidden pits.

1.  I roasted a chicken for dinner Wednesday night.   It is such a simple thing really, and yet too often I think we think of a roast chicken as a convenience, something to pick up on the way home from the store when we are hungry and feeling rushed.  I have been known to succumb to that very urge.  But although roasting a chicken does require some time,  and this bird was rather large and needed nearly 1 1/2 hours to roast, once in the oven, the attention of the cook is not required, leaving her free to do other things. 

2. The only downside to roast chicken that I can see is that it so delicious that I want to do it again practically immediately.  In fact, you can see that I was so eager that I ripped a wing off practically as soon as the chicken was out of the oven, before it could cool, before I could take a photo.  I have no regrets.  Once the chicken had rested, I ate the legs along with the outer parts of a lovely artichoke I had picked up at Whole Foods, dipping the leaves in homemade Aioli.  The chicken carcass went into the slow cooker with the contents of a bag of vegetable trimmings and my last two chicken feet, and I woke up to the smell of chicken stock Thursday morning.   A ladle of fresh stock, some leftover zoodles (zucchini noodles), shredded chicken breast, sautéed mushrooms, baby spinach, and a poached egg made a lovely breakfast. The leftover artichoke heart was sliced and combined with chicken breast and bell peppers in a quick sauté for lunch.

3.  While the chicken was roasting on Wednesday evening I entertained myself with a short stroll down memory lane.  I had picked up my old, stained, and well-worn copy of Marcella Hazan's Classic Italian Cookbook after reading Lisa's post earlier this week.  I hadn't cooked from it recently, thinking it really no longer fit my life.  This was only partially correct.  As I read the book I remembered my younger self, remembered my culinary explorations as a young bride.  Although I don't really cook risotto for myself now, I remember learning the process,  remembering the thrill when I finally got it right, the sense of accomplishment when it became almost second nature.  I also remember the joy of making my first ossobuco and eventually mastering it.  I haven't made ossobuco in a long time, although I occasionally yearn for it.  As I am unlikely to find a gluten-free version in  a local restaurant that will meet my standards, I shall have to cook it myself.  I've been lax about cooking for friends so far this year, a situation that will have to change.

For a girl who grew up in Texas, even a girl whose parents were both adventurous cooks, Hazan was a revelation,  opening my eyes to a sensibility about food that was a far cry from the Spaghetti Warehouse, lasagna, pizza, and my parent's fritto misto. I remember my awe at  learning about the many ways one could cook artichokes.  I grew up eating artichokes, but they were always simply boiled.  I remember learning to pan saute mackerel with olive oil and rosemary, and my amazement that something so simple could yield such depth of flavor.  In the late 1980s and early '90s we had a local fishmonger who often had beautiful mackerel, and it appeared frequently on our table.  I occasionally see a beautiful mackerel in the fish market here in Knoxville, and I am reminded of those meals.  Too often the fish are too large for one, but perhaps I will buy one someday.  I remember that I used to also make a mackerel paté with any leftover fish and I could surely do so again. 

I also remember the amazement I felt when I learned to think of parsley as an aromatic to add at the beginning of cooking rather than merely as a garnish.  I remember that first whiff of the aroma of sautéed parsley, that first taste, the way it magnified the flavor and added incredible depth to the dish. It is a technique I have never forgotten.  The first time I sautéed parsley I was making Hazan's recipe for spaghetti with tuna, a favorite dish for those days when I needed a fast, delicious, and satisfying meal from pantry staples.  I made that dish for years, decades even.  I could make it again.  I might need to make it again soon. 

4.  I have taken great pains to be aware of movement and activity this week, to stretch, to use ice or heat as needed.  I have been cautious about walking, limiting myself to 10k steps, and 10k only.  Yesterday I took a long walk in the middle of the day, 2 1/2 miles, but it was only mostly level or gently sloping terrain.  I am still trying to take a balanced approach, with a short walk in the morning and again in the evening, even on days that include longer excursions.  I am still not walking the hills in my neighborhood though; it is not going uphill that is the problem, but rather coming back down.  It will do me no harm to wait until next week.

5.  I extended the fermentation time of my most recent batch of kimchi a little more than the previous batches and reduced the heat slightly.  It has worked out quite well, still hot, but not quite as incendiarily so as previous batches.  This batch is also slightly less "sparkly" and a bit more funky, but just as good as previous efforts.  The kimchi worked well in a scramble with some shredded chicken this morning. Just before the eggs set, I tossed in some leftover steamed carrots and their sweetness offset the heat of the kimchi and rounded out the flavors nicely.  Kimchi opens another world of possibilities, one well worth exploring further.