There are multiple reasons as to why it is 11PM and I am only in the first few steps of making a homemade beef stew. Andrew is sleeping but the smells are wafting through the house and even when I was taking a shower I could smell the bubbling stock creeping in under the door.
1) I feel guilty about going to a fancy, 3-course, late-night work dinner tomorrow leaving my husband to eat frozen pizza. Not that he can't/doesn't cook, but he cooked tonight and we try to lighten the load on each other.
2) I got my first pick-up of my CSA share which was a bounty of carrots (still white, not very flavorful), celery, soybeans, radishes, bok choy, and rainbow chard. Knowing that the next few nights are busy, I feel very pressed to make use of the fresh veggies ASAP.
3) I'm feeling very wired from my 6:15 spin class. Not sure why, but sometimes exercising at night makes me very awake instead of exhausted.
4) The cold, misty rain of October has crept in on us after a second Indian Summer and I was struck by the instantaneous desire for stew.
Beef stew is so hearty and full of nostalgia. There's both Chinese beef stew and then the more European/Americanized version of it that my mother used to make on cold Autumn nights. I love both but tonight it is the heartier, beefier, thicker Americanized stew that evokes feelings of being some pioneer man coming home from tramping around in the snow, knocking the snow off his boots, and sitting down to a steaming bowl of stew that was cooked over the fireplace. Or, that is, at least what I used to pretend when I was a kid.
I still have no idea how Mom made her stew and I don't attempt to recreate it. I just remember it was so delicious and full of onions and big chunks of beef and carrots. She would toast bread and slather butter on it (one of the few times we were really into butter) and we would dip it into the stew, letting the butter melt and slip off a little while the bread got soaked.
One Halloween Mom served me and my friend the stew before we headed out for trick-or-treating. I don't remember what I was dressed up as, but my friend was a witch. She had terrible table manners and I remember seeing her look up at me with her witch's hat, a ring of reddish-brown broth stain around her mouth, and a big, happy grin as she wiped her mouth with the back of her witch's robe sleeve.
Tonight's stew (tomorrow's dinner) has the following:
Beef (top layer chuck??), cut into chunks
Carrots -- two stalks diced, the rest chopped
Celery -- two stalks minced, the rest chopped
Potato, chopped
Onion, chopped, with a handful set aside
Garlic, crushed
Parsley (fresh)
Oregano (dried)
Rolling Rock canned beer
Olive oil
Red wine vinegar
Soy sauce
Salt
Black pepper
White pepper
Couscous
Corn (??)
1. Heat olive oil, throw in onions and garlic, sauté for 5 minutes
2. Add beef, stir
3. Add a little Rolling Rock, red vinegar, soy sauce, black pepper, white pepper
4. Add minced carrots, minced celery, parsley, and oregano
5. Cover and let simmer until beef tender
That's where I'm at right now. After all of that magic happens, it's just a matter of adding the carrots, celery, potatoes, and onions to cook. Then spice it up and ready to serve. I'm planning on adding some leftover couscous from last night's dinner and maybe some frozen corn. Not sure yet.
I'm also contemplating just finishing the "stock" now and then finishing the rest tomorrow morning. If I stay awake any longer I'm going to eat something regardless of how late it is b/c dang, my mouth is salivating. Those smells and memories are powerful!!
Showing posts with label comfort food. Show all posts
Showing posts with label comfort food. Show all posts
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Expanding on a memory: Shepherd's Pie
When talking/writing about food, I often talk about my comfort foods, family traditions, and recipes that are reliable to me and when creating them, evoke a feeling of happiness and security. For Labor Day, I went another route -- the route of experimentation and the attempt to successfully compose a dish that is largely a mystery to me: shepherd's pie.
Shepherd's pie is actually a strange kind of comfort food for me -- it calls back to very strong memories of a time in my life that, when I think back upon it, still seems quite surreal. Between the ages of 15 and 16, I lived in the 16th arrondissement in Paris, France with my dad. My dad had been relocated there for work and his company had offered to pay for my education at a premiere American/International school. We jumped at the opportunity. Fifteen was a fascinating time for me; growing up, I was a weird kid (who's to say that I'm not anymore?) and had a hard time socializing. Moving to a new city to a new school where the kids were used to students coming and going, I had a second chance to learn and utilize social skills. Up until then, all the people I knew were from the same town and anybody who did move into our insignificant zip code were from places similar. In Paris, I met kids who came from all corners of the world, united by one quality -- we were all nomads traversing the awkward land of being an expat AND a teenager. To this day, my time in France signifies a time in my life when I learned how to open up to others and actually enjoy what happened as a result.
I had an Irish-American friend who had a lovely apartment, family, and a dog named Lucy. Going to her house always provided what I, for that year, had exchanged for my newfound surreal independence. At my modernly furnished apartment near the Roland Garros stadium, my dad and I ate our meals at a granite bar and for days at a time, he would be out of town for work. I would have the freedom to wander Paris as if it was not the City of Lights, but just some regular old humdrum city. I had my first cellphone, my first laptop, and my first allowance. I was allowed full access to the subway and free range of the city. My mother was an ocean away and I only felt her warmth over the phone. My sister was in college and my friends on the other side of my IBM Thinkpad. It was a strange, but exciting, life so when I was over my friend's house, after riding a rickety elevator to her apartment, I was thrown back into the atmosphere of family and siblings and furniture that belonged to the family.
One day her mother offered us shepherd's pie. I had never heard of such thing and expected something sweet. Instead I was amazed at the concoction I was presented. Despite always loving Chinese and other Asian cuisines by default, this so called pie brought together everything I loved about non-Asian food. Ground beef, peas, corn, buttery mashed potatoes. I was impressed.
Since that day I have probably only had shepherd's pie once or twice but it's never stuck to me the way that shepherd's pie in France did. It reminds me of so much goodness -- the home of my friend, the experience of that year, the exploration into new relationships, foods, tastes, and cultures. I think because that experience was so unique to itself, I never attempted to make shepherd's pie although I have certainly thought about it.
However, when my husband (b/c I have one now) suggested it for a dinner, I decided I would go for it. Fundamentally shepherd's pie is basic and easy; there can't be too much of a challenge to it. Some of the recipes I researched called for canned vegetables and canned mushroom soup while others called for elk or crushed fennel. I read through a bunch of recipes before heading out the grocery store. The results of my grocery/ingredient list were:
- 1 pound ground beef
- 1 large and 1 small white onion
- 2 large carrots
- frozen peas
- frozen corn
- frozen french cut green beans
- 4 cloves garlic
- tomato paste
- 6 russet potatoes
- rosemary
- parsley
- dried oregano
- butter
- milk
- regulars: salt, pepper, olive oil
- Worcestershire sauce
- soy sauce
This was something that definitely requires prep work. Can't cut and cook at the same time. It takes a while, but it ultimately makes the experience more cohesive.
Prep:
1. Chop onions and carrots.
2. Mince garlic.
3. Peel potatoes. Cube.
4. Mince rosemary and parsley.
5. Microwave frozen peas, carrots, and green beans. Drain.
Cook:
1. Heat up olive oil in a large and deep sauté pan. Add onions, garlic, and carrots (in succession with a little bit of time between each addition). Salt and pepper.
2. Add ground beef and brown (10 minutes).
3. Meanwhile, boil potatoes in salted water until soft (10-20 minutes, depending).
4. When ground beef is browned, drain (but retain) the juice.
5. Return beef to heat, add tomato paste and spices. Add Worcestershire sauce, soy sauce, dried oregano, salt, and pepper to taste. Simmer.
6. When the potatoes are soft, drain water (a little left over is okay). Add about 3 tablespoons butter (or more, depending on preference and quantity of potatoes), salt, and pepper to potatoes and mash. After mashed, add milk and whip. I learned from my dad to always soften and thin your potatoes with milk. No water!
7. Preheat oven to 375 degrees F.
8. The ground beef should have little juice -- if there is any, drain it. Spread the ground beef as the first layer.
9. Add the second layer: the mix of peas, corn, and green beans.
10. Using a spatula, dollop the mashed potatoes as the third layer. Be sure to dollop and then smooth out the potatoes, otherwise, the veggies will mix into the mashed potatoes and ruin the layered effect. Use a fork to make a nice cross hatch design. (I'm not sure what purpose this serves other than aesthetic, but it's definitely worth it!)
11. Pop into the oven for 30-35 minutes.
12. Meanwhile, return the juice from the ground beef to heat. Add a little more Worcestershire sauce, soy sauce, salt, and pepper. Mix some cornstarch with water and whisk into the juice (for gravy, duh). Whisk.
The result was quite beautiful and delicious. I was very happy with the results and found a great satisfaction in taking a memory and expanding on it.
Shepherd's pie is actually a strange kind of comfort food for me -- it calls back to very strong memories of a time in my life that, when I think back upon it, still seems quite surreal. Between the ages of 15 and 16, I lived in the 16th arrondissement in Paris, France with my dad. My dad had been relocated there for work and his company had offered to pay for my education at a premiere American/International school. We jumped at the opportunity. Fifteen was a fascinating time for me; growing up, I was a weird kid (who's to say that I'm not anymore?) and had a hard time socializing. Moving to a new city to a new school where the kids were used to students coming and going, I had a second chance to learn and utilize social skills. Up until then, all the people I knew were from the same town and anybody who did move into our insignificant zip code were from places similar. In Paris, I met kids who came from all corners of the world, united by one quality -- we were all nomads traversing the awkward land of being an expat AND a teenager. To this day, my time in France signifies a time in my life when I learned how to open up to others and actually enjoy what happened as a result.
I had an Irish-American friend who had a lovely apartment, family, and a dog named Lucy. Going to her house always provided what I, for that year, had exchanged for my newfound surreal independence. At my modernly furnished apartment near the Roland Garros stadium, my dad and I ate our meals at a granite bar and for days at a time, he would be out of town for work. I would have the freedom to wander Paris as if it was not the City of Lights, but just some regular old humdrum city. I had my first cellphone, my first laptop, and my first allowance. I was allowed full access to the subway and free range of the city. My mother was an ocean away and I only felt her warmth over the phone. My sister was in college and my friends on the other side of my IBM Thinkpad. It was a strange, but exciting, life so when I was over my friend's house, after riding a rickety elevator to her apartment, I was thrown back into the atmosphere of family and siblings and furniture that belonged to the family.
One day her mother offered us shepherd's pie. I had never heard of such thing and expected something sweet. Instead I was amazed at the concoction I was presented. Despite always loving Chinese and other Asian cuisines by default, this so called pie brought together everything I loved about non-Asian food. Ground beef, peas, corn, buttery mashed potatoes. I was impressed.
Since that day I have probably only had shepherd's pie once or twice but it's never stuck to me the way that shepherd's pie in France did. It reminds me of so much goodness -- the home of my friend, the experience of that year, the exploration into new relationships, foods, tastes, and cultures. I think because that experience was so unique to itself, I never attempted to make shepherd's pie although I have certainly thought about it.
However, when my husband (b/c I have one now) suggested it for a dinner, I decided I would go for it. Fundamentally shepherd's pie is basic and easy; there can't be too much of a challenge to it. Some of the recipes I researched called for canned vegetables and canned mushroom soup while others called for elk or crushed fennel. I read through a bunch of recipes before heading out the grocery store. The results of my grocery/ingredient list were:
- 1 pound ground beef
- 1 large and 1 small white onion
- 2 large carrots
- frozen peas
- frozen corn
- frozen french cut green beans
- 4 cloves garlic
- tomato paste
- 6 russet potatoes
- rosemary
- parsley
- dried oregano
- butter
- milk
- regulars: salt, pepper, olive oil
- Worcestershire sauce
- soy sauce
This was something that definitely requires prep work. Can't cut and cook at the same time. It takes a while, but it ultimately makes the experience more cohesive.
Prep:
1. Chop onions and carrots.
2. Mince garlic.
3. Peel potatoes. Cube.
4. Mince rosemary and parsley.
5. Microwave frozen peas, carrots, and green beans. Drain.
Cook:
1. Heat up olive oil in a large and deep sauté pan. Add onions, garlic, and carrots (in succession with a little bit of time between each addition). Salt and pepper.
2. Add ground beef and brown (10 minutes).
3. Meanwhile, boil potatoes in salted water until soft (10-20 minutes, depending).
4. When ground beef is browned, drain (but retain) the juice.
5. Return beef to heat, add tomato paste and spices. Add Worcestershire sauce, soy sauce, dried oregano, salt, and pepper to taste. Simmer.
6. When the potatoes are soft, drain water (a little left over is okay). Add about 3 tablespoons butter (or more, depending on preference and quantity of potatoes), salt, and pepper to potatoes and mash. After mashed, add milk and whip. I learned from my dad to always soften and thin your potatoes with milk. No water!
7. Preheat oven to 375 degrees F.
8. The ground beef should have little juice -- if there is any, drain it. Spread the ground beef as the first layer.
9. Add the second layer: the mix of peas, corn, and green beans.
10. Using a spatula, dollop the mashed potatoes as the third layer. Be sure to dollop and then smooth out the potatoes, otherwise, the veggies will mix into the mashed potatoes and ruin the layered effect. Use a fork to make a nice cross hatch design. (I'm not sure what purpose this serves other than aesthetic, but it's definitely worth it!)
11. Pop into the oven for 30-35 minutes.
12. Meanwhile, return the juice from the ground beef to heat. Add a little more Worcestershire sauce, soy sauce, salt, and pepper. Mix some cornstarch with water and whisk into the juice (for gravy, duh). Whisk.
The result was quite beautiful and delicious. I was very happy with the results and found a great satisfaction in taking a memory and expanding on it.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Chili tacos, God, and Scrabble
Despite my true and penultimate love for Chinese food, sometimes there is nothing better than tacos. Actually, scratch that -- sometimes there is nothing better than CHILI TACOS. Maybe it's because of that all too common second-generation American experience of loving the food your mother makes, but secretly craving the foreign simple foods of your American classmates that involve cheese and cream and tomatoes. Actually, this craving was satisfied every now and then when I was a kid; I remember my Dad making his 5-alarm chili and serving it to us on rice with sour cream -- which I totally thought was normal up until maybe 2 years ago when I found out that it wasn't. I didn't even understand what "5-alarm" meant at the time but I just remember being so freakin' excited whenever the house filled up with the smell of chili. I would stuff myself silly and be in pain from a full belly. Even so, that hasn't stopped me and to this day, there is something about the ground beef and beans and spices and cheese and sour cream that go on top of a bed of lettuce blanketed by crunchy crispy taco flour that titillates my food senses.
Unlike Chinese food though, this craving only hits me on occasion so chili tacos have kind of become a "special occasion food" in my book but when I satisfy this craving, it is so entirely gratifying. The craving hit me a few days ago along with the hankering for a good Scrabble game so I invited my best friend (an equally hardcore Scrabble fan) up for a Sunday evening of chili tacos and competition. This was, of course, highly anticipated for several days. I've been overwhelmingly busy and/or lazy so haven't cooked in a while and have been living off of frozen dumplings (which are, in and of itself, still amazing). Since tomorrow we have President's Day off, I felt at leisure to make a nice meal.
This morning I overslept and missed church. Disappointed at this and my annoying inability to wake up for anything other than work, I downloaded a few podcasts of some Jim Wallis sermons, popped in my Ipod, and headed out to run some errands. Call me a multitasker but this was awesome! I shopped for groceries and was hit by a good dosage of social justice preaching. When I got home, I turned on another sermon, poured myself a glass of Stonecap Columbia Valley Cabernet Sauvignon, and started on the chili. Usually I cook in silence but this time it was great to hear these heart-moving sermons as I chopped and minced away. Jan showed up and the chili simmered for a while on the stovetop and we competed in a good Scrabble game (good because I won) as we munched on Trader Joe's veggie stix. When our stomachs were hungry from the intensity of the game, we relished in chili tacos and red wine. Mmmmm, life is good.
Chili
1/2 red onion, chopped
4 cloves garlic, minced
1/2 pound ground beef
4 tomatoes, chopped with seeds and pulp
2 cans tomato paste (6 oz.)
1 can kidney beans
1 can pinto beans
1 bag frozen corn
4 chilis (whole, with a slit in the middle)
garlic
cumin
cilantro, chopped
salt
soy sauce
olive oil
In a large pot, heat olive oil. Saute onions for 5 minutes then add garlic. Add ground beef, stir thoroughly and cook until beef is about 2/3 done. I usually add some soy sauce for taste b/c who am I kidding -- I'm Chinese and I can't resist adding soy sauce to everything. Add chopped tomatoes, stir, turn heat down to low, and cover. Let the tomatoes break down and then add tomato paste. Let this simmer and then add beans. After 5 minutes, frozen corn is next followed by chilis and then salt, cumin, and cilantro to taste. Let this simmer for as long as you deem necessary for the tastes to kick in.
Serve as is OR -- even better -- serve as chili tacos. I use Whole Foods Blue Corn hard taco shells, shred up some romaine lettuce, and get some cheddar cheese and sour cream. Serve in taco form or, as I prefer, in a taco salad form. Compliment with a few glasses of wine and an ass-serving Scrabble game and you're golden.
Unlike Chinese food though, this craving only hits me on occasion so chili tacos have kind of become a "special occasion food" in my book but when I satisfy this craving, it is so entirely gratifying. The craving hit me a few days ago along with the hankering for a good Scrabble game so I invited my best friend (an equally hardcore Scrabble fan) up for a Sunday evening of chili tacos and competition. This was, of course, highly anticipated for several days. I've been overwhelmingly busy and/or lazy so haven't cooked in a while and have been living off of frozen dumplings (which are, in and of itself, still amazing). Since tomorrow we have President's Day off, I felt at leisure to make a nice meal.
This morning I overslept and missed church. Disappointed at this and my annoying inability to wake up for anything other than work, I downloaded a few podcasts of some Jim Wallis sermons, popped in my Ipod, and headed out to run some errands. Call me a multitasker but this was awesome! I shopped for groceries and was hit by a good dosage of social justice preaching. When I got home, I turned on another sermon, poured myself a glass of Stonecap Columbia Valley Cabernet Sauvignon, and started on the chili. Usually I cook in silence but this time it was great to hear these heart-moving sermons as I chopped and minced away. Jan showed up and the chili simmered for a while on the stovetop and we competed in a good Scrabble game (good because I won) as we munched on Trader Joe's veggie stix. When our stomachs were hungry from the intensity of the game, we relished in chili tacos and red wine. Mmmmm, life is good.
Chili
1/2 red onion, chopped
4 cloves garlic, minced
1/2 pound ground beef
4 tomatoes, chopped with seeds and pulp
2 cans tomato paste (6 oz.)
1 can kidney beans
1 can pinto beans
1 bag frozen corn
4 chilis (whole, with a slit in the middle)
garlic
cumin
cilantro, chopped
salt
soy sauce
olive oil
In a large pot, heat olive oil. Saute onions for 5 minutes then add garlic. Add ground beef, stir thoroughly and cook until beef is about 2/3 done. I usually add some soy sauce for taste b/c who am I kidding -- I'm Chinese and I can't resist adding soy sauce to everything. Add chopped tomatoes, stir, turn heat down to low, and cover. Let the tomatoes break down and then add tomato paste. Let this simmer and then add beans. After 5 minutes, frozen corn is next followed by chilis and then salt, cumin, and cilantro to taste. Let this simmer for as long as you deem necessary for the tastes to kick in.
Serve as is OR -- even better -- serve as chili tacos. I use Whole Foods Blue Corn hard taco shells, shred up some romaine lettuce, and get some cheddar cheese and sour cream. Serve in taco form or, as I prefer, in a taco salad form. Compliment with a few glasses of wine and an ass-serving Scrabble game and you're golden.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
A night in Little Italy
Natalie came up the other evening for a night in the city. Even though it was a Saturday, I had to stop by the office for a few hours to get some work done and hadn't eaten much throughout the day. By the time she got here I was so hungry and I was craving Italian food and wanted to go down to Little Italy.
I haven't been down to Little Italy in years, so we headed down there with the mission to find the best pasta we could. After a few parking debacles (namely finding a spot two seconds too late and getting it jacked from us by some Canadians) we finally strolled down the streets of Little Italy and came across Grotto Azzurra, a restaurant that has sat in the heart of Little Italy since 1908. Yelp reviews waver on this establishment, but that evening, it was perfect for two hungry ladies who had a penchant for heaps of pasta. The host lured us in with promises of half priced drinks so we took an outdoor seat and people/tourist watched and sipped cocktails.
I had a blood orange martini which was divine and Natalie's mango pear martini was also delicious -- so delicious that a tippling fly dove right in for a sip (and its death). Natalie and I have been best friends since the 6th grade, so something about that evening was really significant to me as we chatted about our lives and some major turns they have been taking. I think that at that moment I was struck with a moment of true, unadulterated gratitude for life, a best friend, good food and drink, a job that paid for this all, and the opportunity to live in this wonderful city. I felt like we were finally women, grown from the days that we bickered over who would call Domino's Pizza for delivery or cried over broken teenage hearts.
The food came out and it was one of those thrilling food moments -- to see so much food piled on your plate. Definitely one of those eyes bigger than your stomach moments. Natalie had seared scallops on pesto risotto and I had gnocchi with gorgonzola and walnuts. We washed it down with a bottle of French chardonnay and I ate until my stomach hurt.
After dinner we skipped dessert and desperately needed to walk around so that I didn't feel like a potato sack full of wet dough. We searched for bubble tea, but the strange phenomenon of Chinatown seems to be that it shuts down at 8PM. Even on a Saturday night. We found a place that was serving papaya bubble tea but then they realized they had no more tapioca so Natalie was left with papaya tea that was ultimately, not very good.
Nonetheless, the dinner was delicious and was warm and satiating and exactly what I had been craving all day. That, in and of itself, is one of the greatest feelings in the world but it was coupled with a lovely moment with a best friend and I couldn't ask for anything more than that.
Next step: make my own gnocchi and make it ten times better!
I haven't been down to Little Italy in years, so we headed down there with the mission to find the best pasta we could. After a few parking debacles (namely finding a spot two seconds too late and getting it jacked from us by some Canadians) we finally strolled down the streets of Little Italy and came across Grotto Azzurra, a restaurant that has sat in the heart of Little Italy since 1908. Yelp reviews waver on this establishment, but that evening, it was perfect for two hungry ladies who had a penchant for heaps of pasta. The host lured us in with promises of half priced drinks so we took an outdoor seat and people/tourist watched and sipped cocktails.
I had a blood orange martini which was divine and Natalie's mango pear martini was also delicious -- so delicious that a tippling fly dove right in for a sip (and its death). Natalie and I have been best friends since the 6th grade, so something about that evening was really significant to me as we chatted about our lives and some major turns they have been taking. I think that at that moment I was struck with a moment of true, unadulterated gratitude for life, a best friend, good food and drink, a job that paid for this all, and the opportunity to live in this wonderful city. I felt like we were finally women, grown from the days that we bickered over who would call Domino's Pizza for delivery or cried over broken teenage hearts.
The food came out and it was one of those thrilling food moments -- to see so much food piled on your plate. Definitely one of those eyes bigger than your stomach moments. Natalie had seared scallops on pesto risotto and I had gnocchi with gorgonzola and walnuts. We washed it down with a bottle of French chardonnay and I ate until my stomach hurt.
After dinner we skipped dessert and desperately needed to walk around so that I didn't feel like a potato sack full of wet dough. We searched for bubble tea, but the strange phenomenon of Chinatown seems to be that it shuts down at 8PM. Even on a Saturday night. We found a place that was serving papaya bubble tea but then they realized they had no more tapioca so Natalie was left with papaya tea that was ultimately, not very good.
Nonetheless, the dinner was delicious and was warm and satiating and exactly what I had been craving all day. That, in and of itself, is one of the greatest feelings in the world but it was coupled with a lovely moment with a best friend and I couldn't ask for anything more than that.
Next step: make my own gnocchi and make it ten times better!
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Kale over Chinese style noodles topped with a fried egg
The other night, my mom and my sister came to visit me in Harlem. My sister -- who is also my best friend -- is about to move to Ann Arbor to get her Ph.D at the University of Michigan. We are so proud of her and this was our last gathering as the Kang women for a while and of course, I wanted to feed them. I decided to go with a dish that my mother taught me when I first started cooking -- kale sauteed with onions, garlic, and soy sauce served over Chinese style noodles, topped with a fried egg.
I chose this dish because it is a comfort food, both in the sense that it always makes me happy and also in the sense that it is a safe dish for me -- I’ve made it more times than I can count. But mostly, the kale and noodles remind me of my mother’s love and evenings spent around our round kitchen table in the house of my childhood. What better dinner to make on my last night with my sister?
I started out by opening a Corona with lime for me and my sister. Then I set a large pot of salted water to boil for the noodles. I also set some low-sodium organic chicken broth to heat. I cut the kale into sizeable strips, chopped half a bulb of garlic, and minced 1/3 of a red onion.
I then sliced some organic beef round eye steaks into thin (though not thin enough to my mother’s standards -- her one complaint!) strips and marinated it in soy sauce paste with half of the chopped garlic. I set that aside to marinate for a little.
To prepare enough broth for three, I chopped three stalks of green onion and put that at the bottom of the bowl. I added a sizeable glob of soy sauce paste, two capfuls of Marukan rice vinegar, a generous dash of sesame oil, and white pepper.
To cook the kale, I heated olive oil and when it was hot, threw in the onions. After a minute or two I then added the garlic. When the air was heavy with the intoxicating smell of onions and garlic, I added the beef along with its marinade. After cooking that for about three minutes, I added the kale. Kale reduces greatly so it’s always a battle of leaves spilling out of the pan and it seeming like you’re going to have way too much and then being disappointed with how scant it seems in the end. A lid was placed over the kale to let it reduce in size and then sauteed. I added some soy sauce (not paste) and a pinch of white pepper.
At this point the water is boiling so the noodles can be prepared while the kale is cooking. I haven’t advanced to handmade noodles yet so I just follow the instructions on the box. Thankfully, Leanne (my sister) was helping me out so she took care of the noodles. When the noodles are done, I usually toss them in sesame oil for flavor and to make sure they don’t stick. The broth was hot at this point too so I asked Leanne to pour that into the bowls and then add the noodles. Hot water is added to the bowls to reduce the heaviness of the broth, especially if the broth is not low-sodium (it happens).
While this was occurring, I fried three eggs in olive oil and dribbled soy sauce on top. The point is to break the yolk over the noodles so I didn’t fry them for long. When the eggs were done, I placed one over the noodles in each bowl. The kale was served in a bowl so that one can help herself and put them on top of the noodles as well. Of course this is eaten with chopsticks and Chinese soup spoons.
Thankfully the hot weather that had been plaguing New York for a few weeks had broken and there was a cool rain and wind in the air so the broth and noodles didn’t make us uncomfortably hot. The effect was exactly what I wanted -- sitting around a table with my mother and sister eating something familiar and nutritious while we talked about our lives, hopes, dreams, and struggles. At the same time, this was something I hadn't made for my mother before so she was thrilled to see how it was translated down to her daughter. We laughed and chatted and slurped down our noodles and ate till our bellies were warm and full. This was comfort and it was delicious.
I chose this dish because it is a comfort food, both in the sense that it always makes me happy and also in the sense that it is a safe dish for me -- I’ve made it more times than I can count. But mostly, the kale and noodles remind me of my mother’s love and evenings spent around our round kitchen table in the house of my childhood. What better dinner to make on my last night with my sister?
I started out by opening a Corona with lime for me and my sister. Then I set a large pot of salted water to boil for the noodles. I also set some low-sodium organic chicken broth to heat. I cut the kale into sizeable strips, chopped half a bulb of garlic, and minced 1/3 of a red onion.
I then sliced some organic beef round eye steaks into thin (though not thin enough to my mother’s standards -- her one complaint!) strips and marinated it in soy sauce paste with half of the chopped garlic. I set that aside to marinate for a little.
To prepare enough broth for three, I chopped three stalks of green onion and put that at the bottom of the bowl. I added a sizeable glob of soy sauce paste, two capfuls of Marukan rice vinegar, a generous dash of sesame oil, and white pepper.
To cook the kale, I heated olive oil and when it was hot, threw in the onions. After a minute or two I then added the garlic. When the air was heavy with the intoxicating smell of onions and garlic, I added the beef along with its marinade. After cooking that for about three minutes, I added the kale. Kale reduces greatly so it’s always a battle of leaves spilling out of the pan and it seeming like you’re going to have way too much and then being disappointed with how scant it seems in the end. A lid was placed over the kale to let it reduce in size and then sauteed. I added some soy sauce (not paste) and a pinch of white pepper.
At this point the water is boiling so the noodles can be prepared while the kale is cooking. I haven’t advanced to handmade noodles yet so I just follow the instructions on the box. Thankfully, Leanne (my sister) was helping me out so she took care of the noodles. When the noodles are done, I usually toss them in sesame oil for flavor and to make sure they don’t stick. The broth was hot at this point too so I asked Leanne to pour that into the bowls and then add the noodles. Hot water is added to the bowls to reduce the heaviness of the broth, especially if the broth is not low-sodium (it happens).
While this was occurring, I fried three eggs in olive oil and dribbled soy sauce on top. The point is to break the yolk over the noodles so I didn’t fry them for long. When the eggs were done, I placed one over the noodles in each bowl. The kale was served in a bowl so that one can help herself and put them on top of the noodles as well. Of course this is eaten with chopsticks and Chinese soup spoons.
Thankfully the hot weather that had been plaguing New York for a few weeks had broken and there was a cool rain and wind in the air so the broth and noodles didn’t make us uncomfortably hot. The effect was exactly what I wanted -- sitting around a table with my mother and sister eating something familiar and nutritious while we talked about our lives, hopes, dreams, and struggles. At the same time, this was something I hadn't made for my mother before so she was thrilled to see how it was translated down to her daughter. We laughed and chatted and slurped down our noodles and ate till our bellies were warm and full. This was comfort and it was delicious.
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