sad squash

I was going to do a post about spaghetti squash. Not because I like to pretend it's pasta, as some crazy people do (it's too sweet for that), but because it makes a great fridge staple for a vegetarian (or semi vegetarian like me). I roast it up, perhaps give it a quick saute with olive oil, salt, pepper and garlic, dole it into plastic storage containers, and eat it for lunch all week. It's delicious, it can be reheated in about a minute in the microwave, and makes a great side dish either just as described, or tarted up with some cheese (parmesan, pecorino, goat cheese or feta have done nicely, on the internets I hear ricotta is great too). As a main, I add steamed, roasted or sauteed veggies, red pepper flakes and possibly a protein on top, like garlicky shrimp or cubes of cooked fish.

I was going to roast and saute a squash today, and photograph it all, and then eat some for dinner and photograph that too. Except when I cut open my squash, it was too easy. See, breaking down a spaghetti squash is generally a pretty dangerous proposition for me, even with sharp chef's knife. Then came the smell. I wasn't sure it was coming from the squash. Sorority kitchen and all, you can never tell.

I was really looking forward to that squash. But then I saw this*:



This squash is rotten. It's rotten enough to tempt me to use an emoticon to describe it. Except for Jack-o-Lanterns folding in on themselves at the end of November, I don't even think I've seen a rotten squash before, but I can still tell. Spaghetti squash should not look like this when you crack it open. If it does, trash it. Don't feel too bad about it, spaghetti squash, especially during this time of year, is a pretty good buy.

From my very limited understanding squash, even beautiful delicious noodly spaghetti squash, lasts a good long while (up to a month). Since I've only had this one waiting around for a week or two, I'm going to blame the store where I bought it. It must have been sitting around there for a while. And if it's not their fault, I am going to blame them anyway. Why? Because, as I said before, I was looking forward to that spaghetti squash.

*You can go ahead and blame some of the grayness on the lighting in my kitchen, but that thing was pretty grisly inside either way. And don't forget the smell. It was definitely the cut squash.

just say no: hershey's chocolate syrup

Maybe you remember this post, in which I declared that we food snobs should, perhaps, collectively stop judging the cart contents of grocery shopping brethren? Well that doesn't count for restaurants. Sorry, but I am going to judge.

Yesterday evening, NH and I had dinner at relaxed, suburban red-sauce-Italian kind of joint on Staten Island. The dinner was decent and quick, though as many mediocre meals out do it reminded me that I can do better at home in less time. I guess I need to do more emulating of the excellent bloggers behind Not Eating Out in New York. At any rate, NH and I allowed ourselves to be talked into a truly lackluster "chocolate souffle" for dessert, which was really just a second-rate chocolate lava cake. And by "second-rate" I mean the interior was barely warm. True to form, the restaurant festooned this prosaic dessert with ruffles of ReddiWip and the dreaded drizzles of Hershey's Chocolate Syrup.

This stuff. Don't click unless you want to see the frightening number of disgusting-sounding varieties available for purchase at a store near you.

I don't blame this place, after all, NH and I knew exactly what we were getting into and we really didn't mind, though we couldn't help comparing it with some of our recent, finer Italian dining experiences. It bothers me though, that classy-with-a-k suburban casual dining holes aren't the only places where this questionable condiment finds full time employment. Hershey's Chocolate Syrup makes its way onto the fine china of a number of much nicer restaurants regularly. A few of these establishments allow it to touch the food.

Perhaps you're wondering why I'm so harsh on the brown stuff. Here's the thing: it's not good. Doubt it? Go buy a bottle and eat a spoonful of it. Doesn't live up to those childhood memories, does it? Now I won't lie, I still believe there's a special time and place for a glass of cold milk with a few hearty tablespoons of the brown stuff swirled in, but it's the same time and place for grilled cheese sandwiches on squishy white bread and that little square of microwaved dessert in a Kid Cuisine frozen meal (when, by the way, did Kid Cuisine start billing itself as a "real meal"?). That time and place is not in a nice restaurant, making a minefield of my otherwise delicious dessert. I don't need a kind of chocolate-y product drizzled over my delicious fudgy microwaved brownie, or even over my vaguely tasty not-quite-souffle-or-lava-cake dessert product thing. Whatever happened to the joys of minimalist plating? Certainly the restaurant can save $10 on a mammoth can of the syrup and use it to, I don't know, buy more things restaurants need, like salt and pepper shakers to replace all the stolen ones.

At this point in time, there is very little that I can do personally in the war against Hershey's Chocolate Syrup, which is ever so slightly better when warm, but only, only slightly. NH and I have decided to take one course of action though: we're going to make sure we order desserts sans Hershey's Chocolate Syrup. Will you join us in this mission?

general housewifery is participating in National Blog Post Month (NaBloPoMo).

cheddar-chive scones

cheddar chive scones, originally uploaded by doesinheadlights.

I rarely ever make scones, because I don't keep cream on hand, but after brunching at S's a weekend or two ago (see cinnamon rolls), and eating a version of these, which are a version of Ina Garten's cheddar-dill scones, I decided they were worth a special trip to the grocery store. The recipe is in Ina Garten's (first, I believe) book, The Barefoot Contessa Cookbook. I halved the recipe and copied S, swapping out the dill for fresh chives. These were incredibly cheesy and chive-y.

cheddar-chive scones

2 cups ap flour, plus more for rolling
1 tablespoon baking powder
2 teaspoons salt
1 1/2 sticks cold unsalted butter, diced
2 large eggs, beaten
1/2 cup cold heavy cream
4.5 ounces (yellow) extra sharp cheddar cheese, small-diced
1/2 cup minced chives (I trimmed with scissors)
1 egg beaten with 1 tablespoon milk, for egg wash

Preheat oven to 400.

Whisk together flour, baking powder and salt. Add the diced butter to the flour mixture and using two knives, a pastry blender or your fingers, cut the butter into the flour until the butter is in pea-sized pieces. Those pieces are the key to perfect scone texture. Lightly beat the eggs into the heavy cream and add to the flour/butter mixture. Combine with a few quick strokes. Add the diced cheddar and minced chives, then stir until mostly incorporated. Turn the dough out onto a floured surface and knead briefly and lightly, until the chives and cheese are thoroughly incorporated. Roll out to a 3/4-inch thickness. Cut the dough into eight equal portions, then roll each into a small ball. Place scones on a baking sheet lined with parchment or silicone. Flatten each lightly with the palm of your hand, then brush with the egg wash. Bake for 20-25 minutes until light brown and crusty on the outside.

Yields 8 fantastic scones.

peach cobbler promises

peach cobbler, originally uploaded by doesinheadlights.

I wanted to make cobbler mostly because the peaches at the supermarket were huge, smelled strongly of peachiness, and were under a dollar a pound. I checked out a number of cobbler and crisp recipes, but found most of the proportions were not quite what I was looking for (too much sugar, not enough sugar, sweet crusts). In the end I used the simple JOC method (i.e. prepare fruit filling of your choice, top with biscuit dough of your choice, brush with butter, sprinkle with sugar, bake). The most arduous part of this process is blanching and peeling the peaches. My mother said she would have left the skin on, and I'm inclined to believe that doing so wouldn't be a bad idea.

simple peach cobbler

6 large peaches (about 3lbs)
1/4 cup granulated sugar
1/2 cup brown sugar
3-4 tablespoons flour (or cornstarch)
1 3/4 cups ap flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
3 tablespoons dried buttermilk
6 tablespoons unsalted butter
3/4 cup cold water
butter for the pan and topping
sugar for sprinkling

Preheat oven to 425.

Boil plenty of water in a saucepan large enough to accommodate fat summer peaches. In the meantime, wash the peaches and prepare an ice water bath large enough to accommodate them. When the water is boiling, drop the peaches in for 30 to 45 seconds, and remove to ice water. Remove after 30 seconds to a minute. Peel by hand or using a paring knife.

Pit each peach and cut into several wedges. Place wedged peaches in a large bowl and toss with granulated sugar, brown sugar and flour or cornstarch. Set aside.

Sift together flour, baking powder, salt and powdered buttermilk. Cut the unsalted butter into the flour until the mixture resembles coarse bread crumbs. Pour in cold water and stir the mixture gently until combined. Add more water if necessary, but dough should be sticky and dense.

Butter a large casserole, eight small ramekins, or some combination of the above (I used a small casserole dish and four small ramekins). Spoon the peach mixture into each. Top with loosely formed balls of the dough. Brush or spoon butter all over the top, and sprinkle with sugar. Bake for 15-20 minutes, until the topping is golden brown and the filling is bubbly.

Serve with excellent vanilla ice cream.

Yields 8-10 generous servings.

perfect (ridiculously simple) tomatoes for salad

I don't like the texture of raw tomatoes in my salad, and having purchased some gorgeous spinach yesterday as well as some lovely, ripe organic roma tomatoes, I decided some roasting was in order this morning. These take three hours to roast but only about six minutes to prepare, and are more flavorful and exciting than regular tomatoes. Roasted tomatoes are excellent on pizza (a nice contrast with the relatively mild, less sweet sauce) or chopped up and tossed into pasta with olive oil, garlic, and spinach. The roasting time can be adjusted to suit your preferences; 1 1/2 to 2 hours will yield juicier, but still heavenly, tomatoes that will play nicely with pasta or on bruschetta. Make as many tomatoes as you need or desire, but keep in mind that you'll end up with a lot less than you started with. Many people dress these up with garlic, herbs and the like, but in my opinion the plain kind are the most versatile.

Incidentally, since the flavors are concentrated here this is an excellent use for tomatoes that are watery or less flavorful than you'd like.

perfect tomatoes

8-12 roma tomatoes
2-4 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
sea salt
fresh ground black pepper

Preheat to 275. Line a roasting dish with aluminum foil (easy cleanup; not necessary). Drizzle 1 tablespoon olive oil into pan and use the back of a spoon, or a basting brush, to spread evenly. Wash tomatoes. Split each in half lengthwise, and using a paring or other small knife, cut around the stem. Using a small spoon, scoop out the tomato innards and discard. Place tomatoes, cut side up, in roasting dish. Drizzle with olive oil to your preferences, about 1-3 tablespoons. Sprinkle tomatoes with sea salt, again to your preferences, and a little bit of fresh ground black pepper. Put tomatoes into oven and leave them alone for 1 1/2-3 hours. Tomatoes are ready when your house smells amazing and/or they look about as dry as appeals to you.

Yields X fantastic tomatoes.

shame and groceries

Apparently, many people are really, really opinionated about groceries. Over at Serious Eats there's a great discussion going on about those items we buy that we're not exactly thrilled to show off. Instant mashed potatoes (seemingly used, ubiquitously, in alternative applications like sourdough starters and potato bread) are proving popular, among luncheon meats and that stuff in the blue box Kraft insists on calling macaroni and cheese.

Part of me wants to laugh (who cares what you buy if it makes you happy) and part of me knows that deep down, I am a food snob too. I can't help it, my mother raised me that way, and stressed what I call "real food" over most processed conveniences. I was still a little kid when I began to eschew such American family favorites as that curiously sawdust-like cheese product in a green cylinder Kraft insists on calling parmesan cheese (ahem, real Parmesan must be shredded or grated or crumbled or shaved, at the table please). I glance over my purchases in the grocery store and even sometimes feel they portray a certain image, and feel satisfied that if I am what I eat (or at least what I buy at the market) then I have at least small cause for satisfaction. I cook, prepare or bake things that many people buy (bread, cookies, cake, soup, macaroni and cheese, salad). I try to buy organic dairy and produce. I like my chocolate dark, my coffee black and Lipton tea sort of terrifies me (NH keeps asking me if it's "brown" tea) , though I'll have it at Waffle House with my Cheese 'n' Eggs and Cinnamon Toast.

Still, I think it's a little silly to fret over conveniences that make our lives work out a little easier. My mom cooked plenty while I was growing up, but we also did plenty of nights of making our own toppings for a frozen pizza (I did this with NH this weekend, as we are both fiends for caramelized onions on our pizza), and I know she always had a box of instant mashed potatoes on hand, along with all kinds of stuff that a working mother needs: garlic powder (gasp!), taco seasoning (boo!), string cheese (agh!) and frozen stuff for snacks, like toaster strudel (no!). She emphasized health but it's not like she had time to be a gourmet chef three times a day, and you know what, I turned out fine. She taught me about eating good things, eating (not too many) bad things, and leaving time in your day for fun.

I once debated whether those Polly-o string cheeses that used to come with "pizza sauce" for dipping were an actual food with my friend's boyfriend. She and I, both very interested in healthful eating and checking out New York restaurants and cooking things like tofu or spinach, had loved the things as children. He mocked us endlessly for them. In the end he was probably right, presented with one of those things (or the pizza Lunchables I once embraced) today I probably wouldn't give them a nibble. In the end, that's not the point. How you eat and what you eat really is a personal decision, and no one should feel embarrassed to like string cheese, frozen burritos, or chicken nuggets.

I've caught people tossing discriminating glances toward shopping carts laden with soda, stacked with chips, or featuring a case of Easy Mac (I think I lived on that freshman year, sigh). This sort of behavior is really childish. It's impossible to know why someone else eats or buys what they do, and since it hardly affects anyone but the person doing the shopping and their immediate family, I'd like to advocate for keeping our eyes on our own carts. Even more so, it'd be nice to see people stop judging themselves for the products they love or use as timesavers. No grown man should feel he needs to engage in furtive Nesquick purchasing.

What are your favorite grocery conveniences?