Frustration Foodie
Usually posts about food have a lot of pictures. I'll let you use your imagination, as the writing didn't come to mind until today. Imagine them on nice plates and enjoy!
Yesterday, I woke up to an endless wall of posts about the violence and drama of the Department of Homeland Security's thugs here in Portland. I should have waited, paced myself, had my tea and breakfast first. Sometimes, when bad news comes out swinging, you feel helpless and angry and wonder "how the fuck is our country coming to this?!!!"
I've been overwhelmed for the past few weeks now, trying to focus on the big picture but only getting small parts of it at any one time. That's great for jigsaw puzzles, but life, not so much. Outside, my efforts to keep the gardens in the front and backyard ended up in my neglect of the sideyard, which is a problem as the broad leaved-avens, no matter how pretty they are, have grown up overnight, flowered their sunny cinquefoil-type blooms, and are now going to seed. Their tiny burrs attach to the cats and have to be gently pulled out. I'm usually on guard for them, weeding these natives out as soon as I see them, but I lost track. Tomatoes need to be staked up because they suddenly grew too fast to get cages around them. Joe pointed out that he had propped one up last night when he was out trimming lettuce for salad (because I forgot to do it in the morning) and all I could feel was defensive. "I'll do it tomorrow," I told him. This usually makes us laugh, the phrase reminiscent of that classic Frog and Toad story I've read thousands of times and never got tired of, but now it just feels like one more thing I've failed to do. My brain is preoccupied with all the news, the song "More Trouble Coming Every Day" by Frank Zappa is like a soundtrack every time I turn on any sort of media.
Yesterday, I needed to make myself useful, so I cooked. Starting with processing the fresh basil and red bell peppers, I made a pesto with the former, emerald green and bright. The peppers went into the Cuisinart and were processed with some salt, pepper, sherry and a dash of red wine vinegar (the sherry was a bit too sweet, the red wine vinegar corrected the brightness and acid) and made a sauce for the pita pizzas we'll have for dinner tonight. Putting those away atop a container of the cannelini bean and artichoke spread I'd made on Sunday, I got to work on lunch.
When Joe works from home, as he does two days a week now, I try to make something special for the noon meal. We had some roasted chicken left over from the other day, so I put together a Moroccan Chickpea Stew* with ginger, cinnamon, cumin, turmeric and paprika. My mood was spicy and so was lunch, strewn with ribbons of swiss chard from the garden and served over roasted sweet pototo. It was delicious and I'm so glad I have leftovers.
After doing a mountain of dishes, I suggested to Joe that I was done cooking for the day and that ordering take-out might be a good option. He was fine with that, but by three p.m., I was bored and it was too hot to go work in the yard. Plus, the ground turkey I'd purchased last Saturday needed to be used. Enchiladas sounded good, but we only had five flour tortillas-- hence, the birth of what I'm calling "Sloppy Enchiladas". This is what you get when you have a giant can of enchilada sauce and an overwhelming desire to just use it all. I stirred it into the ground turkey and refried beans and poured some from the can into the bottom of the 9x13 pan, layered two and half tortillas over it (cut one tortilla into quarters, you'll figure it out with the overlapping circles), scoop contents from the skillet onto that, spread flat, top with tortillas and cheese and olives and most of the rest of the sauce until you decide that it's on the edge of being too sloppy, then bake it off. Serve with tomatoes cut up and seasoned with lime juice, salt, pepper, cumin and coriander, and of course, avocados smashed into a guacamole with lemon juice, salt and more coriander. (Hey, I'm out of cilantro, gotta improvise.) Eat in a bowl. With a spoon. Maybe I should call it Soupy Enchilada... everyone loved it.
There is a mild euphoria which comes from eating spicy foods, and by the time I was done for the day, I was beat and momentarily satiated. Stress cooking, creating, is a good outlet sometimes. When nothing else can be managed, the kitchen can nurture not just our bellies but our souls. It can give us a sense of purpose. Yesterday, mine was to use what I had, to use it well before it spoiled, and to feed us all. I'm taking a break from media today, for the most part-- I will try to recalibrate my heart and brain so I have a good space to work from tomorrow.
* I modified this recipe, per my usual concerns: no onion, no garlic, only 1 can of chickpeas, switched out red pepper flakes for paprika for Joe, and it adds a nice smoky flavor; kale replaced by chard, didn't use stock, just 2 cups of water-- still made a great soup and more FOD-MAP friendly.
Yesterday, I woke up to an endless wall of posts about the violence and drama of the Department of Homeland Security's thugs here in Portland. I should have waited, paced myself, had my tea and breakfast first. Sometimes, when bad news comes out swinging, you feel helpless and angry and wonder "how the fuck is our country coming to this?!!!"
I've been overwhelmed for the past few weeks now, trying to focus on the big picture but only getting small parts of it at any one time. That's great for jigsaw puzzles, but life, not so much. Outside, my efforts to keep the gardens in the front and backyard ended up in my neglect of the sideyard, which is a problem as the broad leaved-avens, no matter how pretty they are, have grown up overnight, flowered their sunny cinquefoil-type blooms, and are now going to seed. Their tiny burrs attach to the cats and have to be gently pulled out. I'm usually on guard for them, weeding these natives out as soon as I see them, but I lost track. Tomatoes need to be staked up because they suddenly grew too fast to get cages around them. Joe pointed out that he had propped one up last night when he was out trimming lettuce for salad (because I forgot to do it in the morning) and all I could feel was defensive. "I'll do it tomorrow," I told him. This usually makes us laugh, the phrase reminiscent of that classic Frog and Toad story I've read thousands of times and never got tired of, but now it just feels like one more thing I've failed to do. My brain is preoccupied with all the news, the song "More Trouble Coming Every Day" by Frank Zappa is like a soundtrack every time I turn on any sort of media.
Yesterday, I needed to make myself useful, so I cooked. Starting with processing the fresh basil and red bell peppers, I made a pesto with the former, emerald green and bright. The peppers went into the Cuisinart and were processed with some salt, pepper, sherry and a dash of red wine vinegar (the sherry was a bit too sweet, the red wine vinegar corrected the brightness and acid) and made a sauce for the pita pizzas we'll have for dinner tonight. Putting those away atop a container of the cannelini bean and artichoke spread I'd made on Sunday, I got to work on lunch.
When Joe works from home, as he does two days a week now, I try to make something special for the noon meal. We had some roasted chicken left over from the other day, so I put together a Moroccan Chickpea Stew* with ginger, cinnamon, cumin, turmeric and paprika. My mood was spicy and so was lunch, strewn with ribbons of swiss chard from the garden and served over roasted sweet pototo. It was delicious and I'm so glad I have leftovers.
After doing a mountain of dishes, I suggested to Joe that I was done cooking for the day and that ordering take-out might be a good option. He was fine with that, but by three p.m., I was bored and it was too hot to go work in the yard. Plus, the ground turkey I'd purchased last Saturday needed to be used. Enchiladas sounded good, but we only had five flour tortillas-- hence, the birth of what I'm calling "Sloppy Enchiladas". This is what you get when you have a giant can of enchilada sauce and an overwhelming desire to just use it all. I stirred it into the ground turkey and refried beans and poured some from the can into the bottom of the 9x13 pan, layered two and half tortillas over it (cut one tortilla into quarters, you'll figure it out with the overlapping circles), scoop contents from the skillet onto that, spread flat, top with tortillas and cheese and olives and most of the rest of the sauce until you decide that it's on the edge of being too sloppy, then bake it off. Serve with tomatoes cut up and seasoned with lime juice, salt, pepper, cumin and coriander, and of course, avocados smashed into a guacamole with lemon juice, salt and more coriander. (Hey, I'm out of cilantro, gotta improvise.) Eat in a bowl. With a spoon. Maybe I should call it Soupy Enchilada... everyone loved it.
There is a mild euphoria which comes from eating spicy foods, and by the time I was done for the day, I was beat and momentarily satiated. Stress cooking, creating, is a good outlet sometimes. When nothing else can be managed, the kitchen can nurture not just our bellies but our souls. It can give us a sense of purpose. Yesterday, mine was to use what I had, to use it well before it spoiled, and to feed us all. I'm taking a break from media today, for the most part-- I will try to recalibrate my heart and brain so I have a good space to work from tomorrow.
* I modified this recipe, per my usual concerns: no onion, no garlic, only 1 can of chickpeas, switched out red pepper flakes for paprika for Joe, and it adds a nice smoky flavor; kale replaced by chard, didn't use stock, just 2 cups of water-- still made a great soup and more FOD-MAP friendly.
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