Pandemic Home Cooking: There’s a New Chef in Town - Columbus Monthly |
- Pandemic Home Cooking: There’s a New Chef in Town - Columbus Monthly
- Cooking from the Heart: Little Haiti parish member heeds call to feed the hungry - WSVN 7News | Miami News, Weather, Sports | Fort Lauderdale
- Tilly Ramsay Admitted To Liking Her Mom's Cooking Better In A TikTok - Delish
- What to Cook This Weekend - The New York Times
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Pandemic Home Cooking: There’s a New Chef in Town - Columbus Monthly Posted: 02 Apr 2021 08:37 AM PDT  After my three-decade reign as Queen of the Cookware, I'm learning how to share the spatula.My husband has a new hobby: cooking. Over the past 34 years, Doug has dabbled: oyster stuffing at Thanksgiving, pork and spaetzle on New Year's Day and barbecued chicken on the summer grill. But the kitchen remained my domain. "I cooked in college because I had to," he explained. "Then we met, and your cooking was much better." I embraced my title as family chef. The ensuing arrangement—I cook and he cleans up—grew as seasoned as my cast-iron skillet. I calculate that over our 35 years together, with three kids, I've cooked 20,000 meals. I rarely use a recipe anymore, and once the children flew the nest, my meal planning became minimal. Possibly nonexistent. I scan the shelves of the refrigerator and toss bits and pieces together. I estimate amounts and add ingredients by eye. I restore tired vegetables with a stir-fry and a soy-saucing. I randomly pour the final two inches of last night's wine bottle into the pan. Then in March, when the pandemic sent us all home, the demand for homemade meals multiplied faster than mold on leftover brie. In April, I spotted a meme that pretty much captured my mood: an exhausted woman stares at a steaming pot, eyelids drooping. Bold white letters shout, "DOES ANYBODY ELSE FEEL LIKE THEY'VE COOKED 450 DINNERS THIS MONTH?" I still loved being in the kitchen, but my enthusiasm was wilting like old lettuce. About three months into working at home, Doug stumbled upon the website of Christopher Kimball, a Vermont chef enraptured by international cuisines. Kimball is the former host of America's Test Kitchen. He now has a culinary fiefdom: a cooking school, radio and television shows, cookbooks, a monthly magazine and the website that captured Doug's attention. Kimball's online recipes feature lavish photos, precise instructions and obscure ingredients. My husband decided to try one dish. His first attempt—chicken vindaloo, gently simmered and napped in a vivid sauce spiked with ginger, garlic, turmeric and sweet paprika—was a rousing success. Emboldened, Doug started scouring our local Kroger for items like white miso paste, Fresno chiles, lemongrass and orecchiette. Soon after, my little German Village kitchen—and its scant 5 square feet of usable counter space—became a war zone of cutting boards, uncapped spice jars and drippy spatulas. My husband dove into cooking with an appetite reminiscent of Guy Fieri confronted with a plate of chili cheeseburgers. Of course, I welcomed his help with carrying the millstone of meal prep. At the end of our long, isolated days, I felt grateful that we could turn our little two-person dinners into minor adventures. At the same time, though, this upending of our longstanding pact—I cook, he cleans—unsettled me. I quickly discovered that my husband's culinary habits can grate. This may be because I, as an old cook, see recipes as suggestions. I routinely pull sleight-of-hand substitutions with my available ingredients. But Doug, as a new cook, is devoutly loyal to his recipes, unwilling to deviate for fear of ruining the results. His approach to a new dish duplicates his approach to an Ikea bookcase—he reads the instructions and follows them. The same cannot be said of me. DOUG: (studying his latest recipe) Do we have basmati rice? ME: No, but we have a bag of regular rice in the freezer. DOUG: Do we have sour cream? ME: No, but the 2 percent yogurt in those cute little Fage containers should work. DOUG: Do we have yellow squash? ME: No, but those two zucchinis in the fridge can't hold on much longer. DOUG: (grabs keys) Going to Kroger. I'll be right back. In a similar way, he is as precise as a chemist about measurements. This frustrates me. Most recipes, in my opinion, are sorely under-vegetablized. Dishes loaded with butter or salt also get the stink-eye. ME: (peers into a sizzling pan) That doesn't look green enough. We should add twice as many peas. DOUG: I'm following the recipe. ME: Look at these adorable cherry tomatoes from the garden. Let's toss them in! DOUG: I'm following the recipe. ME: This half-can of corn needs a home. DOUG: I'm following the recipe. DOUG: I need two teaspoons of salt. ME: Recipes always use too much salt. I'll put in one. (adds teaspoon of salt) DOUG: Let's compromise and use one and a half teaspoons. ME: I'm good with that. (pretends to add a half teaspoon) Doug takes cooking times seriously. Outside of the kitchen, he is a trial attorney specializing in electronic discovery, which he calls "the nerdiest branch of the law." Accordingly, he relishes the logistical challenge of timing various dishes to finish simultaneously. "It's a version of manipulating Excel spreadsheets," he says. I'm not quite sure what that means, but apparently it involves setting the oven timer, rather than using my expert methods, like poking with a fork and sniffing the air. My husband will stand patiently over a pot to ensure that it bubbles "gently" for the correct amount of time. I have little patience for such … patience. We've had incidents. DOUG: Can you stir the risotto? ME: Sure. (grows bored after one minute and checks TikTok) TEN MINUTES ELAPSE. DOUG: (returns to kitchen and looks in pot) Dang! Why is the risotto clumping? ME: (engrossed in a video about making Muenster cheese in giant copper vats) Um, everyone knows risotto is tricky. During my years in the kitchen, meals often had to be thrown together in a half-hour. I can take tater tots from frozen to crispy in 15 minutes, and my creative mashups of leftovers got us through many family dinners. In the past, I rarely cooked anything too complicated—I never had enough time. Doug has no such qualms. When he found a promising recipe for peanut butter miso cookies that demanded a day of refrigeration and a persnickety baking schedule, he didn't hesitate for a second. After 10 minutes at 350 degrees, he had to remove the cookies, rap the cookie sheet against the counter and bake them for another five minutes. I was skeptical—as a spur-of-the-moment cookie baker, I would never have bothered with this recipe. Cookies should be mixed up, tossed into the oven and rescued when they smell delicious and have golden-brown bottoms. Yanking them out of the oven to smack them seemed needlessly brutal. I had to eat my words, though, along with the cookies. The meltingly soft, crackle-topped peanut butter cookies possessed the perfect balance of sweet and salty. After eating my share, I felt obligated to mail a dozen across the country to our son in California so he wouldn't miss out. When Doug cooks, he usually asks me to manage the cutting board. "I'm not good with a knife—my fine motor skills are terrible," he explains. This is true. I've seen him turn a simple gift-wrapping job into a colossal Scotch-tape-fueled struggle with the laws of geometry. He also turns to me for sage advice. My brain is stuffed with nutritional information, and I've got lots of helpful hacks. I can tell you how to effortlessly soften butter (put it on a plate on top of the preheating stove), fix not-quite-cooked rice (stir in water, put the lid on, keep it warm and wait) and save limp kale (no, you can't save it—but you can sauté it). Sometimes, though, my skill set backfires on me: DOUG: Why do recipes always call for 12 ounces of pasta, when it comes in 16-ounce boxes? ME: Mystery of the universe. It's like the hot-dog-to-buns ratio conundrum. DOUG: Huh? ME: Never mind. Cook the whole box of linguini. We'll just eyeball the rest of the ingredients. DOUG: No, no, I'll adjust the measurements. We'll make one-and-a-third times the amount of sauce. ME: (scoffs) Ha! Good luck measuring a third-of-a-quarter of a cup of honey. DOUG: Oh, I'll let you do that. My fine motor skills are terrible. In the beginning, our little fishbones of contention irritated me. After my long reign as Queen of the Kitchen, sharing the throne felt uncomfortable. Yet, with each meal, my exhausting desire to control has ebbed. In exchange, I get delicious food and the joy of watching someone discover anew the same territory I've tramped over a thousand times. Doug has evolved, too. Last week, I saw him substitute thyme for tarragon. Today, we conspired to jury-rig our pasta pot for steaming Boston brown bread. Our challenges in the kitchen remind me, on a smaller scale, of the constant collaboration demanded during our raucous child-raising years. In a two-partner marriage, raising kids throws a pitiless spotlight on your complementary—and clashing—qualities. So it's reasonable to think that, after umpity-ump years with one person, you've got them figured out. They're a beloved recipe that dependably produces the same results every time. Change the recipe and you can create a disaster—or end up with a bowl of something better. Even if it may still need a few more peas and a little less salt.  |
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Posted: 02 Apr 2021 07:46 PM PDT (WSVN) - COVID has caused suffering of all kinds, but loss of jobs and support have caused some people in South Florida to go hungry. 7's Karen Hensel shows us how one woman is working to change that. It's Friday night, and at Notre Dame d'Haiti Catholic Church in Miami, it's time to start cooking. Doramise Moreau: "I'm going to clean them." Parish member Doramise Moreau is in charge of the mission in the kitchen. Throughout the night and into the morning, she and other volunteers will prep and cook eight 40-pound cases of turkey, chicken and pork. Doramise Moreau: "It's got ice on it. We're trying to remove the ice." They work through the night to feed those in the community who don't have enough to eat. Doramise Moreau: "Put meat in there, put water in there, so it can go more faster. Her calling started when Doramise was a child in Port-au-Prince, Haiti. Doramise Moreau: "Whatever I get, I give to the people." Even though she'd get in trouble, Doramise would take food from her parents' kitchen and give it to hungry neighbors. Doramise Moreau: "My mom whoop me again, and I run, I say, 'You whoop me today, you whoop me tomorrow, I'm still going to do it.'" She was determined then, and she is determined now. When COVID hit, and people in the parish lost jobs, she worked with the church to start feeding people again. Father Reginald Jean-Mary, Notre Dame d'Haiti Catholic Church: "She would take the jitney, the buses, to go and do the groceries, and then she came back. She spent the whole night preparing the meals." Father Reginald Jean-Mary says they couldn't do it without her. Father Reginald Jean-Mary: "I did not have money to pay a restaurant to cook all those meals for us, and so Doramise said, 'I'll do it,' and I said to myself, 'How is she going to be able to do that?' And you know what? She did it! She's an inspiration to many, to all of us. Doramise Moreau: "That's for flavor." Doramise works as a school janitor during the day, and here at night, she supervises as the food is prepared with loving care, from the fresh vegetables and herbs to the marinades. Doramise Moreau: "That's the way Haitian ladies make their food." Through the night, the stoves, ovens and fryers are busy, and as the sun comes up, more volunteers arrive to help. Immacula Charles, volunteer: "We love cooking. When you love something, it's not hard. We try. We try our best to help." All of those here feel the call to help people who have been hit hard this past year. Baliston Elidor, volunteer: "It is very, very, very important, because a lot of people in the community, they say, 'Oh, in the past three days, I don't eat nothing.'" Beginning in March, Doramise and the other volunteers cooked more than 1,000 meals every week. Now, funds are starting to stretch thin, but she is determined to find ways to continue. Doramise Moreau: "I'm never going to stop. If I don't have money, I need everybody to go together, and I need somebody to donate, put it together and feed the people." When late morning comes, Doramise and her volunteers are ready with hot platters of the spiced meats, pasta, and beans and rice. The food is transferred to individual meal containers and loaded in the back of the truck. This day, senior residents at Peter's Plaza Apartments and St. Mary's Towers are served the delicious hot meals. Senior resident: "Good, it's good." Those simple words are just what Doramise loves to hear. Doramise Moreau: "You don't have a million [dollars] to give people, but if you feed them, that's a big love you could give them. I'm never going to stop." Cooking from the heart to help those in need. If you'd like to donate to the church's food program, contact Notre Dame d'Haiti Catholic Church. FOR MORE INFORMATION: Copyright 2021 Sunbeam Television Corp. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.  |
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Tilly Ramsay Admitted To Liking Her Mom's Cooking Better In A TikTok - Delish Posted: 02 Apr 2021 09:40 AM PDT Gordon Ramsay's 19-year-old daughter Tilly was not the hero we expected but is indeed the one we deserve. She's been gracing our TikTok For You Page for some time now and her videos give us a candid look at what chef Gordon Ramsay is like when he's not working in the kitchen. We are so charmed! In a recent TikTok, though, Tilly got pretty bold and alluded to the fact that she prefers her mom's cooking over her dad's. This content is imported from TikTok. You may be able to find the same content in another format, or you may be able to find more information, at their web site. In the video, Tilly used a popular sound on the app, which is actually the beginning of Ciara's song Got Me Good. It repeats a popular cheer that starts off slow and then transitions into a faster beat. As the slow part of the song is playing, Tilly dances unenergetically next to Gordon as he mimes cooking in a pot. An automated voice says "When Dad says he's cooking dinner..." over her unenthused dance moves. Then, the sound becomes more upbeat and the video shows Tilly animated and dancing next to her mom "cooking" on the stove. The automated voice then reads off "Versus when mom says she's cooking dinner." To further drive home her point, Tilly's caption even read "Guess who's cooking I prefer" while straight up tagging her dad's account in the post. Absolutely savage.  Even if you aren't well-versed in TikTok literacy, by watching the short clip you'll understand the point she was trying to make. It seems that Gordon's brutal honesty has been passed down to the next generation of Ramsays and he's the butt of their jokes. Karma is a beautiful, inexplicable thing! This content is created and maintained by a third party, and imported onto this page to help users provide their email addresses. You may be able to find more information about this and similar content at piano.io  |
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What to Cook This Weekend - The New York Times Posted: 02 Apr 2021 07:30 AM PDT  Good morning. Dorie Greenspan is about the only person on the planet who could persuade me to make a baked alaska (above) over the Easter weekend. Persuade me she did, with a delightful column about the dessert that not only taught me that the dish is known in France as omelette norvégienne — Norwegian omelet — but also managed to include the most charmingly complicated sentence I've read in at least a year: "It's beautiful, elegant and dramatic — a flaming dessert is an attention-grabber; it's easy to make; it's convenient — it can be made ahead; it's got ice cream (enough said); it's got meringue — which is the same as saying it's got magic; it looks gorgeous whole and just as gorgeous sliced; it's creamy and icy cold inside, marshmallowy all around and warm on the edges." I'm in. What a way that would be to cap a meal of glazed ham, scalloped potato gratin and asparagus salad! Not everyone will be feasting this weekend, of course. And if a spread's not in the cards for you, we're still here to help. I like this recipe for a super-simple ginger-scallion chicken, for instance, and this one for one-pot turmeric coconut rice with greens as well. This would be a fine weekend to try out this spicy slow-roasted salmon with cucumbers and feta. And this whole-orange snack cake that, yes, contains a whole orange: pleasantly bitter and sweet. You could make these amazing sausage rolls that the Australian chef Paul Allam serves at Bourke Street Bakery, stuffed with North African flavors: lamb, harissa, couscous. Or you could assemble these these grain bowls with roasted mushroom and broccoli, which'll teach you a template you can repeat in coming months. How about a Lisbon chocolate cake? (More Dorie!) Or some chicken miso soup? The idea is to use the weekend — if you have the time off and the energy to use it — to bring new flavors and techniques into your cooking, to the benefit of your cooking next week and in the months to come. That the labor is enjoyable is an added benefit. It's not staring at a screen. Thousands and thousands more recipes to consider are waiting for you on NYT Cooking. We're a big-box store devoted solely to the delicious. Go see what you find there. Save the recipes you want to cook. Rate the ones you've made. You can leave notes on recipes, if you like, if you've come up with a shortcut or an ingredient substitution that you want to remember or share. (Of course, you need to be a subscriber to do that. Subscriptions support our work and allow it to continue. I hope, if you haven't already, that you will subscribe today.) We'll be standing by should something go sideways in your kitchen or in our code. Just write cookingcare@nytimes.com and someone will get back to you, I promise. Now, it's nothing to do with shakshuka or nori flakes, but I loved this newspaper poetry form my colleagues introduced readers to in "At Home" the other day, "the golden shovel." You take a headline from The Times and write a poem in which you use each word in the headline to end each line of the poem. I think you should read Mark Sundeen's essay in Outside, about life and love in the Utah desert. Here's Willie Dunn, "Crazy Horse." Finally, and wow am I late to it, but if you haven't watched "Unbelievable" on Netflix yet, please do so this weekend. It's hard to watch in parts, absolutely. The truth is worth it. See you on Sunday.  |
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