Category: food

Always Keep Veggie Curry in the Freezer

Katharine Fraser December 12, 2015 cooking

Veggie curry and salad brighten up a rainy Saturday night

After hosting a group of ladies for a Mary Kay party this afternoon, I had absolutely no desire to cook. My man was on his way back from a fishing outing without fish when he called from the intersection nearest our Kroger. I was tempted to suggest pizza, but didn’t really want something that heavy. A container of frozen homemade vegetable curry called out from the freezer and I asked him to buy a rotisserie chicken. Typically, I don’t really want that either when it comes to quick food. But he picked out a great one. I defrosted the curry, cooked up brown rice and made a salad. It was a very good dinner. It was well-rounded and dressed up with mango pickle and mint chutney for the curry, and Greek yogurt dressing for the salad. (Feta dill for me, blue cheese for him). I’m not specifically advocating for veggie curry or any curry for that matter. The point is always have great standby dishes in the freezer. It does not have to be the entire meal. Curry does provide a wonderful, warm focal point. Other freezer standby dishes I favor are: portions of homemade tomato sauce made in batches, chili, Mexican bean soup, baked chicken and crock pot shredded pork.

Ingredients for veggie curry:

green lentils

diced sweet potato

green beans

red bell pepper

canned tomatoes

onion

curry powder and/or paste (I like Madras curry rather than yellow curry)

Directions (off the top of my head given I pulled this out of the freezer tonight): Saute onion in a saucepan in olive oil or butter. Separately, cook the lentils in water, per the bag instructions. Add curry powder and/or curry paste to onions and stir until thoroughly combined. Fold in diced sweet potato, drained green beans, chopped bell pepper and canned tomatoes. Fold in lentils. Simmer for about 20 minutes to let flavors combine. When serving, you could ladle some into a serving bowl and add buttermilk or light coconut milk there. I think I prefer it without the milk and it stores better without it. The beauty of curry is you can make it with whatever veggies you like or have on hand. Enjoy.

Grilled venison meatballs with pasta and tomato sauce

Katharine Fraser December 11, 2015 cooking

Meatballs and pasta (spaghettini, bucatini, etc.) is a favorite combo in this household, especially as I make my own tomato sauce.

This classic was easy even on a weeknight

This dish has its origins in my late grandmother’s Sunday dinners, for which she would cook meat in “tomato gravy” all day. The meat — usually her handmade meatballs, thin Italian sausage with parsley and braciole –was browned and then fully cooked in the tomato sauce set to the lowest simmer possible. The pot sat atop a pale green Chambers gas stove, which was a work of art. The house filled with the aroma of the tomatoes. I clearly violated tradition here by serving the meat with the pasta. For our family Sunday dinners, the pasta was served first with sauce gently poured over each individual serving bowl. The meat came out on a platter as the second course, usually served with a Boston lettuce salad with oil and vinegar. This was our meal every other Sunday and the drive home to our house provided time to recover from ravioli-itus, or the effects of eating way too much ravioli. We could not help ourselves because the ravioli was from a shop on Arthur Avenue in The Bronx. I cannot quite recreate that experience cooking for two in Houston, so I have adapted. The major difference I have incorporated by living in Texas is using ground venison.

The key to meatballs is to mix in the right amount of breadcrumbs and that is a matter of personal taste

There is very little grease when browning the meat because venison is so lean. That also ratchets down the guilt level with this dish. To get started, I peel a lot of garlic and saute it in a sauce pan with diced onion. Last night, I initially forgot the onion and ended up sautéing that separately on the raclette grill before folding it into my meatballs. Once the garlic turns gold, add canned tomatoes (preferably plum). Bring to a boil, turn down to simmer and add salt and pepper. Cover and move onto the meatballs preparation. Place chopped parsley, breadcrumbs and egg in a bowl. Typically, you use one egg per pound of meat, but given the leanness of venison, I go with two eggs to bind the meat better. Combine with your hands and shape into balls as you place them on the grill. Let them gently cook, browning on all sides.

Use tongs to gently rotate the meatballs on the grill

In the meantime, place a pot of water on the stove to boil for the pasta. To put it all together, place the pasta in a serving bowl, ladle on some sauce (but not too much!) and place the meatballs on top. Garnish with fresh parsley and grated Italian cheese (we prefer parmesan for this). Leave excess sauce on the side. I stored the leftover pasta with meatballs separate from the sauce so that the pasta doesn’t get soggy. This was easily pulled together and clean up was a snap because our raclette grill is non-stick. I just put it in the sink, turned on the water and wiped it down with a brush.

Easily remove garlic skins with this silicon roller

Ingredients

Meatballs: ground meat, egg, parsley and breadcrumbs

Tomato sauce: olive oil, garlic, onion, canned tomatoes, salt and pepper

Pasta: Your preference. I think long pasta is better for this kind of dish. Still, ravioli is the best.

Finally: Enjoy!

Artisanal Vermont

Katharine Fraser December 7, 2015 travel, wine & beer

Early morning sunlight dappled across a hillside meadow. Chipmunks chasing each other on a stone patio. French-pressed dark coffee with steamed milk. Local Vermont milk, of course.

Rarely do we get to see a dreamscape realized. Visiting family in Vermont, that is what we watched as we drank our morning coffees.

Awaking to beauty in Vermont

We hiked into the woods, past the strands of birch trees with their peeling white bark and up higher among the maples, cruising down dirt paths with deer tracks and across another meadow over to the pogue. Pogue. That’s Vermont for pond. Actually that word is not even in the dictionary. If you google the pogue, the search result is a FAQ page from the National Park Service about this very federally managed land in Woodstock, Vermont. The park service says its etymology is not known, but it could be from an Abenaki word or of Scottish origin.

The sky and clouds reflected in the pond, or pogue. The plunking sound of a snapping turtle splashing down from a log summoned us to look. On the way back, we saw several deer, their white tails flashing away in the woods as if they were waving good-bye as they bolted away. Can you see it?

The hiking worked up our appetites. We found pizza at a bar that was just like pizza in New Jersey, my home state, with the thin crust and fresh tomato sauce bubbling through the cheese. Artisanal cheese was everywhere we went, left and right, at the farmers market on the village green, at a “farm and feast festival” in a pasture, at the cheese factory originally built by Calvin Coolidge’s father next to the Coolidge homestead, and on the kitchen counters of family. Can you taste it?

The local-vore food movement is big in Vermont and so is craft beer. Vegetables from my sister’s garden tasted crisper, cleaner, more intense. I think the cool night air enhances the tomatoes and cucumbers by sealing in the flavors. Standing on the hill next to the garden, you have a panoramic view of the stars in the black night sky. We gazed at the Milky Way. At bedtime, you leave the windows open and listen to the crickets as the crisp cool air wafts across the room. Can you feel it?

Each time I visit Vermont, there is a new experience. My sister and her husband took my boyfriend and I to this farm and feast celebration at a cooperative farm. It was rainy Thursday night and the hold farmers sell their goods no matter what the weather. We ate ice cream handed to us by the guy who milked his own cows to make it. The cappuccino ice cream had a warm cinnamon streak.

Under one of the big tents, a band was playing. We ventured in. The tent was striped, like a small circus tent. The band comprised a fiddler in a kilt, a bassist and a singer. Their biggest fan sat next to my boyfriend on a bale of hay. He ribbed me to get me to check her out. She had wild locks of long blonde and brown hair. Her head was swaying in circles and side to side, gyrating, with her fully engrossed in the musical experience. She was slapping her yoga-panted legs and practically bouncing out of her sandals.

She leapt forth and started a tango with a young man who, based on his fluid movements, appeared to have ice dancing experience. Her enthusiasm propelled her to the pole in the middle of the tent, the supporting pole. She switched from hippie chick to burlesque lady and began to pole dance. I was so glad my 11-year-old niece was still outside talking to the nice ice cream man.

The next day, my boyfriend drove an hour to meet my oldest friend for lunch. Literally, he is my oldest friend because we have known each other our whole lives. Mark and I were born about seven hours apart so we met in the newborn nursery. He recommended a music festival and we took him up on the suggestion. It was in a big green field, next to a farm, and craft beer was being served, of course. “Look who’s here!” my boyfriend exclaimed. It was the three-piece band and the wild dancer lady. Can you see it? Vermont is small state.

Sensory experiences can make us feel closer to others in a shared space. I got to visit my other sister’s new home. It is near a cold lake into which you jump from a broad dock for a bracing refresher of what a summer day can feel like. Shockingly enveloped in cold water you forget the unmeaningful and feel close to true nature.

This sister’s house backs onto a brook streaming from that lake and standing in the grass of her backyard you can hear it babbling. Going into her finished basement from a patio door, you are in her painting studio. I express myself with words and she has always been a visual artist. Wherever she has lived, I love visiting her studios. There is a distinct aroma – gesso – which is used to tighten canvass once it is stretched ahead of painting. Her art is bright and vibrant. The use of various colors bring a sense of motion and stimulation. I immediately felt at home in her studio in recognizing these sensory cues that I associate with her. Travelling up a staircase, I saw a print hanging on the wall of a roseate spoonbill and was reminded of my home in the Texas Gulf Coast region. Sometimes you have to go away to find yourself at home again. Do you see it?

Ahead of this trip, I had daydreams about what we would see and do. It is special when the imagined becomes real and you do experience even more. Now, I have the reverie of being their again. Can you see it? Can you taste it? Can you feel it?

The Sage Leopard