Nurturing my inner... when the past meets the present, pt 1

In all my life, I've never had the opportunity to make a full on, all the favs, it-really-is-as-good-as-your-mama's, Thanksgiving dinner.  When I've been home with my family, I'm not "allowed" and when I've been with friends, it's not the place.  Seeing as I was on "the great cooking quest of the year two-ought-ten," (which clearly involves using way too many quotes), I felt it was time to make a complete Thanksgiving meal.  Start to finish.  For myself.  (That ended up being about six servings, just for your information.)

The Sunday before the holiday, I decided to embark on my ambitious (delusional, perhaps), quest.  Because I had a full day, without interruption, to focus.  Undeterred by not having a clue what I was doing, I first ran to the place that I knew I could find everything I needed.  That cornucopia of culinary abundance: Wegmans.  With my credit card in hand, (a full on amazing dinner with all the necessary items was not happening for free), I packed up all my reusable shopping bags and a can do attitude, hopped in my car, and off I went.

Lots of pictures were involved, and about six hours of dedicated fortitude, so I'm breaking these postings down into five blocks.  However, to add an element of surprise, I won't be telling you what they are, or their order, until I reveal them one by one.  (Of course, as they are typical holiday traditions, you really can guess them all.)  Some items were super simple, some were slightly more involved.  But nothing was really hard.  Proving to myself by taking up the gauntlet from the women in my family who had made fabulously memorable turkey dinners before me, I could do this!  (Plus if I failed, no one had to know.  Good thing about cooking without witnesses.)

I love tradition, food is definitely wrapped around that concept in our household, and I wanted to make a meal my Nana would have been proud of if she was here today.  But I was keen on making traditional items in updated ways, just to put my original mark on the event.  So, let's waste no more time with the background jibber-jabber and get to it.

Part I: Cranberry Relish

6 ounces (half a bag) of fresh cranberries
1/4 cup orange juice, pulp free
1/4 cup white sugar
1/4 cup light brown sugar
1/4 cup water
2 cinnamon sticks (Penzey's)

Could not be easier.  I made this ahead of time so I could chill it.  That's why you're seeing it first.  I never really liked the jellied stuff that came out of the can, in the shape of the can, when I was a kid.  But I LOVE cranberries.  So, I had to make this from scratch.  If you don't do this, I will never understand why.  Can you boil pasta?  Yes.  Then you can make homemade cranberry relish.  (YOU are woman!  Hear you boil!)

I've been on several train rides over the years in New Hampshire, Vermont and Massachusetts and have passed by many a cranberry bog in different seasons.  When they were just blooming with tiny yellow flowers in their sand boxes at summertime, like this:

Cape Cod common scenery. July 2010.

...to when the berries were fully ripe and the bogs are flooded with water so the red gems float to the top to collect.  I enjoy knowing (and seeing) where my food comes from before it's bagged.  Which results in you getting this handy package in your local grocery store:

 

Picked and washed and nothing else.

I added the cranberries to a sauce pan.

Not edible yet. Too tart.

Thought it might be nice to add a complimentary citric flavor.  Orange juice.

Added another sweet dimension, but not
so powerful it would overwhelm.

Added juice to pan with both sugars (white to cut the tartness/brown for depth of sweetness) and whole cinnamon sticks.  Sure, you could add regular ground cinnamon, but I wanted just the hint of the spice, without the bits.

Tart and sweet together.

Get up to a boil, then turn the heat down to a simmer.  Give a quick stir, cover and what starts out like this:

Will look like this in about 10 minutes or until the cranberries burst.  (Yeah, you'll know when that is.)

Who needs a can? Not you!

Remove the two cinnamon sticks and discard them.  Put cranberry relish into a glass bowl, let cool off on counter top for a little while, then cover and place in the fridge until well chilled.  I'll have more pictures of it when it's with the rest of the meal.  For now, this is your teaser.

Thanksgiving dinner item #1, done!  Feeling confident from this minor success, I was ready for item #2.

Nurturing my inner... not so perfect

Let's get sauced!  No wait, that came out wrong.  (But if I ever decide to open my own applesauce business, the name is mine!)

Homemade Applesauce

6 large apples, diced
1/2 cup water
1/3 cup dark brown sugar
1/3 cup white sugar (or sugar in the raw, which is now what I prefer)
1 tbsp fresh lemon juice
Handful of whole allspice (or 1/4 tsp ground)
2 whole cinnamon sticks (Penzeys)

Apples of dozens of varieties were all over the Farmers' Market in mad abundance.  They called out to me.  "Buy me.  Buy me!"  And I bought WAY more than I should have.  They are just so tempting!  So I did what anyone would do.  When life gives you apples... make applesauce.  (In large quantities.)

Real apples have spots.

I took this picture this way on purpose.  Apples: unairbrushed.  To show you that real produce that you get straight from farmers might not look perfect.  Yet in their imperfection, they remain as valuable and useful as their blemish free counterparts.  All day long I thought about how real people are like these apples.  Imperfect.  Slightly bruised.  Maybe not exactly magazine cover worthy, but they are no less valuable as a result.  We shouldn't be so quick to discard that which doesn't measure up to our idea of perfection.

Now that my "Little House on the Prairie" teaching moment is over, back to the task at hand.  Cooking.

A friend brought me some wild allspice from her trip to Guatemala.  (Fist pump JP!)  And I took it out for its maiden voyage.

Okay, I did not bottle and label this one.
It came to me this way.

Whole versus ground measurements were uncertain to me.  I just added a handful and that turned out to be just fine.

Wish I had counted them. You'll see why later.

When I was at the market, I took special note of the notes with each bushel of apples.  Some said "great for baking," others said "good for applesauce," amongst other highly descriptive hints.  I chose two varieties that I knew worked especially well for applesauce.  Ida Red (the whiter ones) and Honey Crisp (slightly yellow).

I didn't realize apples when sliced could
be so different in color.

Well, why not learn a thing or two while you're at it, right.  White, yellow, so many delicious varieties to enjoy.  Slice and dice.  Add to a pot.

The crispy before.

Oh, so I have always wanted a citrus press.  But I've been dragging my feet because I am not very gadgety.  Though I feel hand squeezing leaves a lot to be desired as much is left behind.  I finally gave in and got this one from a friend who threw a Pampered Chef party and I love it!  It really does get out every last drop of citrus juice.  (I should know, I used all the muscle my pipe cleaner arms had!  I do realize that isn't saying much.)

A good upper body workout.

Now we get to the good stuff.  Add water, lemon juice, both sugars (for one I used white at the time of the photo, but just made some more a couple days later and used raw sugar and now that's my favorite way), allspice and cinnamon sticks.

Ooh, good stuff!!

After it starts to boil, turn down to a simmer, stir and then cover.  Leave it for about 30 minutes, stirring occasionally.

Time elapsed photo.

If you use whole allspice, this is where you're going to have to pay a little attention.  I took out the two cinnamon sticks, that was the easy part, but then I had to fish out all the dried allspice berries.  One by one.  And I didn't know how many I put in.  But that was okay.  I got 'er done.  The flavor profile was worth using them.

Wow, lookin' good already or what?!
If only you could smell this.

Some apples can be mushed with a fork and some stay more firm when cooked.  But I find that a blender (with the top open because it's a hot item that creates steam) works extra quickly if there is any resistance to the fork technique and I happen to be impatient.  (Which, surprisingly, I have been known to be.  Can we move on now?)

This may have taken 15 seconds.
No fork can work that fast.

It's as easy as scooping into a bowl and you can either eat it warm or put in the fridge and have it chilled the next day.

Better than any prepackaged, overly sweetened
stuff with added preservatives. You'll never
buy the kind in a jar again!

And, true to my making extra and freezing it, I put some bags in cups with the sides turned over to stand them up.  Then I scooped a serving size into each.  Though, the recipe works just as well if you cut it in half and use it over the week.

This way the bags are easier to fill and you
have two hands free.

Lay flat, pat out to remove air and zipper up.  Label, stack and freeze.  By now, you should be getting really good at this.

So much fits into such a small area
when you do it this way.

From imperfect apples came perfect applesauce!  So don't always feel the need to pass over just picked farm fresh produce that would not have passed super market inspection.  (Which by the time you got that "photo ready" fruit it could be days if not weeks old!)  And while you're at it, remember some of the best people you'll ever know will also come to you with bumps and bruises.  Don't pass them by either or you could really be missing out on someone great.

Nurturing my inner... pest-o

I will write about something other than food today. I will write about something other than food today.  I WILL write about something OTHER than FOOD today....

So I just made dinner.  (First paragraph = fail!)  But wait, hear me out.  I made fresh pesto for the first time in my life two days ago and I was itchin' to use it.  I'm giving myself a pass on this one, given the circumstances.  This isn't just a food blog mind you.  Well, except that, mostly it is.

Seeing as I have a wonderful Farmers' Market here in sunny downtown Reston, I cannot help but be presented with the possibility of future culinary greatness with the arrival of every Saturday morning from May to November.  This past Saturday was no exception.

What's currently in season?  Cantaloupes, apples, corn.  But dang, that basil smelled especially aromatic that morning.  As if someone orchestrated the perfect gentle breeze when I walked by it (or that was the fan mounted on one of the tent poles), the emerald incense lured me into its sweet, alluring grasp.  Plus, it was only $2.50 for a huge bunch and I buy it at the grocery store all the time for $2.99 or more for a piddly little sad stalk.  I knows a deal when I sees one.

Looks like its growing out of my counter top.
If only that were possible.

My first thought was to make caprese salad.  Tomatoes were still in season and summer lingered in the air for about two more weeks.  Eh, too easy.  I needed to do something that had effort.  That demanded thought.  And was something I'd never done before.  I thought long and hard, for 15 seconds, about what dish required large amounts of fresh basil.  Then got distracted and accidentally left it on the counter overnight.  (For your own peace of mind, I do not put "fast thinker" on my resume.)  By morning, it already started to look a little sad and droopy.  (I think I killed it!)

As necessity is the mother of invention, I had to think fast.  (Faster than I had the day before if I wanted to use this basil before it turned into compost.)  Ah!  *Snap*  I got it!  Pesto!  Not much else uses more fresh basil than that.

I never made pesto, which screamed to me the chance to conquer another leafy Kilimanjaro and live to tell the tale.  It only had a few ingredients, this I was sure of.  Plus, my cousin was in town and she said, "Oh, it's simple, anyone can do it!"  (I have a feeling many a large ship has gone down to its murky demise on the tail end of those fateful words.)

Please note the extremely precise measurements...

Pesto

A bunch of fresh basil
A handful of pignoili nuts (aka, pine nuts.  Trader Joe's has best prices.)
Some extra virgin olive oil  (You cannot skimp and go with just regular olive oil on this one.)
A few garlic cloves
A couple heaping teaspoons of Parmesan cheese

Right, so hope it works out for you given those specific quantities.  Be happy I don't bake.  (Yet.)  You're going to have to be daring on this one and go with your own personal preference by tasting it every step of the way.  You want to add more garlic, great, do it!  Less Parmesan, by all means.  It's all about what tastes good to you.  I know people who add lemon zest as well if that intrigues you at all.  In the future, I'll likely add a jar of artichokes one day.

Basil prep: I washed it, dried it with a paper towel, pulled off all the leaves and discarded the stems.  Who told me to do this?  No one.  I just guessed.  I also peeled the garlic.

I tossed the pignoli nuts into a pan on low to medium low and dry toasted them.  Really brings out the flavor when you toast your friend the nut.  Though I heard most pestos don't require you to do that.  However, you are a smart person and you will listen to me and take the extra three minutes to do it because it will be worth it.  (You will also monitor them diligently as they go from perfectly golden to burnt mini charcoal briquettes in like five unwatched seconds.)

Toasting up nice and tan like you on
your summer vacation at the beach.

Possessing the insider knowledge that once chopped up finely there would be plenty of space, I placed the garlic in first, then jammed all the basil into a small food processor my cousin gave me probably eight years ago that I had never used.  I'm not very gadgety, so I only use the bare minimum to get the job done.  I'd like to think of myself as a purist or a pioneer of sorts.  Not to mention (Which ironically always means you're going to mention something, ever notice that?), condos don't have an excess of storage space for thingamadoogies and whosiewhatses.  But for pesto, you have to have either a food processor or a blender.  (I'll save my blender for making smoothies, thank you very much.)

Basil and pignolis getting cozy.  Garlic
hidden on the bottom out of sight for now.

My cousin suggested I do a little chop-chop pulse action first to start to blend the drier ingredients and make them finer.  Ever the eager student, I followed her advice to the letter.  (By that I mean, she took over and pressed the button for me to make sure I did it exactly as she wanted.)  Good to note though, I only had two button options on this little processor.  Chop and grind.  Not hard to mess up my choices should I have actually been allowed to steer that ship.

Shake in some Parmesan, drizzle in a little olive oil and then everyone gets to use the grind button!  (Well, not exactly everyone.)

I love how the olive oil turns a mossy green
with all that basil.

There you have it!  Fresh pesto.  Dare I say, you may never buy premade pesto again.  And why should you.  You're educated.  You're daring.  You too can push a button.  (As long as your cousin is not in your kitchen taking over like the big sister you never had!!)

After I made the pesto, I wanted to come up with something slightly different to do with it.  Sure, I could make pasta.  That was predictable.  But what woman wants to be predictable.  We thrive off of changing it up.  Our hair, our clothes.  We love to seem mysterious.  (Sometimes if only to ourselves.)  Pasta was surely out then.  I'm looking to cut down on carbs as well, so I wondered what else pesto could go on.  Chicken?  Sure, that would work great, but I didn't defrost any in preparation.  Oh, I had bought medium-sized, precooked frozen shrimp recently and they can be thawed quickly by placing them in cool water for approximately five minutes.  I did just that, then drained them.

Into a large saute pan went a couple tablespoons of pesto to warm up on low.  Then into a small saute pan went the shrimp and as they started to cook down and water pooled around them, I just drained out the water and placed them back on the stove top with a tiny bit of butter.  At that point, you could just add them to the pesto, but I prefer a little bit of a slightly crispy texture to them.

Turning pinkish orange and curling up.
It's what they do.

When I got them where I wanted them, (Why do I sound like I'm herding cattle?), I tossed them into the pan with the pesto and made sure the shrimp were fully coated.  Into the small saute pan the shrimp had been in, I added one corn tortilla and toasted it lightly on both sides.  Then I added just a little bit of shredded cheese that I had left over from another day and let it slightly melt.

Lactose intolerance be darned!

Slide onto a plate, top with shrimp and pesto mixture, finish with a little bit of shredded cheese and a squeeze of fresh lemon juice.

Who needs pasta with this one?  So good,
you won't miss it.

Keep thinking outside your conventional mental recipe box.  Be unpredictable!  You don't have to pair things up in the same old way and stay in a banal rut because you've always done it that way.  Think flavor and texture and how they might play off one another in different combinations until you land on one that is a winner.  You will discover a whole new way to create something contemporary from an old standby.