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by Miss K

Good Enough to Put Your Name On

Once, last year when I was pregnant, my husband and I had Chipotle for dinner. He ate his whole burrito. I ate half of mine. I put mine in a container in the fridge with a note that said, “Do not eat this burrito. If you eat it, you will be stealing your baby’s food.”

In the same vein, my friend Colleen is one of the most generous people I know. She lives in community at a Catholic farm in West Virginia, where she, her husband and a handful of other year-rounders play host to hundreds of volunteers every year. She is a master at cooking food for a crowd. And, sometimes, she puts her name on her food.

So, what is it about certain foods that turn normally mild-mannered women into petulant 3-year-olds, yelling, “Mine!” while clinging to a beloved box of truffles? Well, it’s not a character flaw. It is simply a sense that certain foods and beverages deserve special treatment and savoring. I don’t want my husband scarfing my burrito at 11pm when he could just as easily make a peanut butter sandwich. Similarly, volunteer coming across some tangerine Spritzers in the fridge would probably not recognize that they were imported from the nearest Trader Joe’s, which is four hours away. Which brings me to the tea.

by Miss K

Friday Fuck Up: Are Those Tortilla Chips in Your Jell-o?

I confess: I don’t like recipes. That, and my tendency to leave out key ingredients even when they are listed right in front of me, makes me a worse-than-average baker.

It’s not that I can’t follow directions; from K*nex to origami, I have personally experienced the power of step-by-step instructions in my life. When I’m in the kitchen, though, I’d rather be swept up in the moment, adding a little of this, a little of that. Generally, the results are, if not supremely delicious, at least edible. Next time I make tomatillo salsa though, I will do so with recipe in hand.

in Veggie 8 comments

by Miss K

Diggin’ DC Dirt: A Raised-Bed Garden Adventure

Part One: We’ve been framed

My indoor basil plant looks like this:

I know, pathetic. Believe me, when I was pregnant, it was the inspiration for many “so you think you’re ready for parenthood” cracks. My response was, there is a reason that babies scream when they are hungry.

Elijah is eight months old now, and so far so good, so this summer, my dear spouse and I decided to take on another complicated project for which we were only minimally qualified: a raised bed garden. I hear that these are trendy at present, but let me tell you, that trend hasn’t reached my neighborhood. Our block seems to favor vegetation more like this:

New age sculpture or misguided but admirable attempt to grow a beer tree? You decide.

We decided on the back porch as the locale for our foray into botany. Large and concrete, it has thus far served little purpose aside from storing some semi-decaying deck chairs. The whole back “yard” is paved over, so it seemed like concrete was our fate. We called up our friend Pat, who jumped at the chance to bust out some power tool action. He and Kurt (my husband) headed to Home Depot for supplies. They were gone for about three hours, reasons for which are still unclear, and returned with some very long pieces of wood. The folks at HD were kind enough to cut the 12-ft. boards into two sections, 10 ft. and 2 ft. Pat was a little sad about not having a chance to use his circular saw.

in Personal / Trends / Veggie 0 comments

by Miss K

Friday Fuck Up: Bobby Flay I’m Not

Sometimes, you can pinpoint the exact moment when a dish goes wrong. Other times, you get to the end, give the food a taste, and think, “What the hell happened?!” And then, there are the times when things are bad, bad, bad, from start to finish. And even though you see it coming, you are powerless to stop it. Yep, that was me in my attempt at a chile rellenos of sorts.

It began with a trip to LA Mart in Silver Spring, my favorite spot for out-of-season produce from exotic locales. I usually stop in sometime during the dead of winter when I just can’t eat one more carrot. This time, I picked up some pointy, green, poblanno-esque peppers, figuring I could stuff them, cover them in cheese and call it a dinner.

I got home and the trouble began. I roasted the peppers on the stove, where they got all blistery and black looking. Not sure if that was good or not, but I soldiered on. The recipe I used directed me to scrape off the black bits and core the peppers, leaving a nice, smoky shell. What I ended up with were several limp, slimy green sheets. But I continued. The filling would redeem them, I figured. Plus, they would be covered in cheese.

The filling was about what you’d expect—black beans, tomatoes, spices—with one addition: grapefruit. A bit odd, I thought, but I was willing to give it a try. It could be one of those surprisingly delicious combinations, like pickles and cream cheese wrapped in corned beef.

Nope. It was just bad. It was hard to nail down what exactly was bad about it, which means it was also impossible to correct. But I now had about four cups of the stuff, so I stumbled blindly on. I “stuffed” the slimy pepper sheets with the grapefruit-black bean blend.

in Cheese / Recipe / Veggie 3 comments

by Miss K

Artsy Photo of the Day

Hello, old friends.

(Photo: Kurt Runge)

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by Miss K

Strawberry Fever

In Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, Barbara Kingsolver talks about how, if you plan on enjoying your fruits and vegetables seasonally, you really have to go all in during say, asparagus season, practically gorging yourself in order to ~~hold you over~~ make you so tired of a particular produce item that you will be okay without it for the next 10 or 11 months or whatever, until the season comes around again. I understand her reasoning, and it might work for me with parsnips or eggplant, but for the most part, I rarely get sick of any particular form of farm stand goodness. Last summer I personally ate at least a hundred peaches. (I’m not exaggerating.) My son, born in September, came out with a good bit of fuzz on him, and I’m pretty sure I know why.

Now we are back around to spring, and I have already been enjoying plenty of arugula straight from the bag, much to Dear Husband’s bewilderment. Strawberries have yet to make it this far north yet, though, so yesterday my boy and I, along with some fellow fruit lovers, hit the road and headed south, specifically to Shlagel Farms in Waldorf, MD.

in Cheese / Recipe 0 comments

by Miss K

Friday Fuck Up: Peanut Sauce Doesn’t Look So Good on the Counter

Too much liquid + food processor = Sadness

If there is one liquid my husband and I love, it’s beer. If there are two: beer and peanut sauce. We have yet to combine them, but that doesn’t mean we won’t someday. Might be a little thick, but I do love a good shandy now and then.

So, last week, my dear one set out to make a mega-double batch of the good stuff. Peanut sauce, that is. I was chillin’ with the babe in the other room when all the sudden I hear, “Oh, God.”

Based on recent events, I figured something was on fire, or my darlin’ had cut off part of his finger. But no, instead I came upon the scene above.

in Rants & Raves 2 comments