Big P, Little p, What Begins with P?

Last evening brought to you by: the letter P. My filmmaker came over for an impromptu play date; we nibbled on some pretzels and goat cheese cheddar, which did not exactly taste reminiscent of cheddar but had a nice goat flavor and a firm texture, while coloring with some permanent markers. I am working on a large sketch pad of drawings to give to him, eventually; they are rather geometric and biologically inspired. We also shared a bottle of prosecco and baked some absolutely delicious peanut butter cookies.

One of the best design aspects of these vintage champagne and cocktail glasses is the hollow stem; it adds some color to the translucent glass, and when drinking something bubbly, creates a tame volcano of effervescence. The wide, round shape is so idyllically retro.

My pink ice bucket, thrifted some time last fall from a consignment shop. It is displayed prominently with my cocktail and collins glasses on my dry bar table.

In keeping with the theme for the evening, the filmmaker came bearing a present, with a pirate twist: an eye-patch. I have been teasing about wearing one of these when we go out and about, so now I can finally don this one night and give my heavy eye shadow a rest.

The peanut butter cookies came from an adapted Betty Crocker recipe. As I have said before, she may be fictitious, but that cartoon diva has some great baking tricks.

Ingredients:

1/2 cup shortening, softened (butter or margarine can be substituted)

1/2 cup peanut butter

1/2 cup granulated sugar

1/2 cup brown sugar, packed

1 large egg

1 1/4 cups all-purpose flour

3/4 teaspoon baking soda

1/2 teaspoon baking powder

1/4 teaspoon salt

cinnamon to taste

My butter was in the refrigerator and not quite softened; I expedited the process by letting him hang out by the roaring front burner for a few moments. This is probably not advised, but it worked. As an amateur and budding domestic goddess, sometimes you have to be resourceful and adapt to the environment at hand, even if that environment stems from your own poor preparation and planning.

I used creamy, unsweetened peanut butter. Since the cookies have so much sugar added as it is, the unsweetened, natural variety allows for pure peanut flavor to power through.

First, measure the flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, and cinnamon in a smaller mixing bowl and set aside.

I love the look of freshly opened peanut butter; so flat and smooth. Peanut butter pond.

In a larger mixing bowl, I added the butter, sugar, and peanut butter, then mixed these ingredients thoroughly. It required some intense bicep work to get all the ingredients well incorporated.

Then I added the large egg, and mixed some more.

After the wet ingredients were all together, I added the flour mixture slowly, making sure it was well incorporated after each new addition.

The pan should be ever so slightly teased with some grease. Roll the dough into roughly one inch balls, and make sure they are evenly spaced out, with plenty of stretch room as they bake.

I wielded a floured fork to cross-hatch each cookie, for a more decorative appeal. They know vaguely remind me of the golden quilted earrings I wore Saturday night, featured in my previous post. Not quite a golden ratio-like monumental coincidence, but a nice pattern.

The cookies should bake in a 375 degree oven for about ten minutes, maybe twelve, depending on the size of the dough balls. The final product was absolutely delightful. We each ate a belly-full of cookies before retiring, to watch the conclusion of the film "The Saddest Music in the World"; it is a hilarious and beautiful satire, with rather strange, emotively incandescent lighting and camera effects, which visually appear to capture some by-gone, twisted era.

For some type of finale, two looks that I would love to promenade about in, from the Proenza Schouler Fall 2011, debuted last week in New York. Both of these dresses are a bit outside of my typical sartorial comfort zone, from a palette and a pattern perspective, but sometimes you need to push yourself out to the edge and pry away from preconceived conventions.

(Proenza Schouler images taken from Fashionologie)

Rebecca's Risotto

Nature and nurture are intricately woven to produce the complex array of the phenotypic manifestations of our genotypic characteristics, on the microcosmic and the macrocosmic strata. As much as I sometimes wish culinary skills were a simple matter of Mendelian inheritance laws (with myself on the lucky side of the Punnett square, naturally), the truth is these skills are cultivated with an upbringing founded on food appreciation, family dinners, and good old fashioned trial and error. My mother and my older sister Elizabeth are both fabulous cooks, however, for each, this was not always the case; their cooking was practiced and honed, the craft developed, as opposed to immediately accessible. Since graduating and being out on my own, I, too, have made an effort to practice in the kitchen, but have found that cooking and eating alone are occasionally insurmountable barriers to epicurean explorations. Dining, and the preparation that precedes it, is an inherently social activity for me, and though I enjoy a delicious meal, with a delicious wine, I always feel something is missing without either family or friends to join me.

Although this sentiment often leads to me just snacking on some carrots and hummus, or some cereal, after hours in my mock-cubicle in the office, I have been making a general concerted effort to eat well, so I feel I live well. I have been missing the farmer's market and its local wonders, but despite this absence, I am attempting to keep warm in the bitter cold weather with some hearty recipes. Pretty much, if it involves copious amounts of cheese, then I am pleasantly satisfied, so some risotto seemed like a natural decision. I would love to take credit for this risotto recipe, because it is pretty simple and amazingly delectable, but it belongs to my best friend, Rebecca, the English graduate student at Brown (great cook and a smart cookie, faceted and dynamic dame).

Ingredients:

1/4 of a large white or yellow onion (about 1/2 cup or so when finely diced)

1 tablespoon or so (I use some more) butter

1 cup arborio rice

1 cup white wine (Rebecca proposed Sauvignon Blanc, I used a Riesling)

3 to 4 cups chicken stock

salt, pepper, and other seasonings, to taste

1/4 to 1/2 cup cheese, to taste, or 1/4 cup heavy cream

other fun surprises

When I decided to prepare this last Sunday evening, I used pear and a basic soft goat cheese; some other possible ingredient combinations include: roasted squash and manchego; mushroom; strawberries and goat cheese; sun dried tomato and ricotta; parmesan, squash, and sausage. Honestly, just depends on the season and produce availability. According to Rebecca, avoid garlic, at all costs; it overpowers the rice and just ruins everything.

First, I sauteed my pears in some butter and some cinnamon, mostly to soften the pears, then set these off to the side for later. I tried to slice the pear in bite chunks, so that it would stay hearty when stirred in the rice, but would be chew manageable.

Here is my white onion, finely diced; this gets thrown into the pot first, with the butter, and is allowed to soften up a bit and create a nice juicy base. I then added some salt and pepper to season the onion-butter base a bit.

Rebecca advised plenty of both white wine and chicken stock; she explained that the primary risotto folly is not enough liquid.

After the diced onion is sufficiently soft, add the arborio rice; I kept the pot on a medium to high flame, though I have a gas stove that is rather stubborn and mostly out of control, so maintaining medium heat can be difficult for me. It is generally all or nothing with that stove top, so I have learned to dance about around that.

When the rice becomes translucent, which will take about two minutes add the white wine, being sure to stir the rice-onion mixture constantly.

After some stirring, add the chicken stock, about 1/2 cup at a time, stirring constantly before, during, and following each addition. The risotto should cook, with plenty of vigorous stirring and chicken stock additions, until the rice is soft and is still in separate grains, loose enough to be able to spread on a plate. For a cup of rice, this process will take approximately twenty or thirty minutes. Your biceps and the hateful underarm flap, I am sure, will thank you kindly and vehemently; spring and sleeveless are just around the corner. On second thought, though, consuming cheese-filled risotto may counteract any potential calorie-burning benefits of the preparation. Fear not, that corner is maybe only vaguely in sight; eat up and enjoy.

After adding all the chicken stock, again about three to four cups, stir in whatever ingredients you wish; above, I added the cinnamon pear bites. Stir for about two minutes, to incorporate the flavors.

Finally, stir in the desired amount of cheese or cream, making sure well incorporated. Again, I used a soft goat cheese with my cinnamon pear, a classic pairing. Brilliant pun.

My first foray with solo risotto making was a success; the perfect tasty touch to a lazy Sunday evening. I will definitely be returning to this recipe, really just a guide for proportions, and probably will be working in some sausage next time around.

On another, more musical and not even tangential note, I have recently been re-discovering the Cocteau Twins; amazing decision on my part, and a haunting break from my typical schedule of early big band jazz and 1960s girl pop (though, cannot go wrong with those genres, at all, obviously, thus their heavy rotation in the soundtrack of my life). Pandora told me today that there is a Cocteau Twins holiday station; naturally, I find this intriguing. Until next Christmas, I suppose.

Banana Bread

Though it has been too bitterly cold for the farmer's market and local produce, with the ice winds and the layers of snow decorating the landscape, I still keep my kitchen well stocked with an army of fruits and vegetables. Living by myself, I tend to be a bit over zealous with my shopping, and often end up with more fruits and vegetables than I am capable of consuming in the transient window of time before they spoil. With bananas, for me, that transient window is rather narrow; generally, I only enjoy peeling and eating them while they are still firm and only have just turned yellow. Thankfully, I have this delicious recipe for banana bread, which I have adapted from the 1969 edition of Betty Crocker. She may be a constructed image of the cult of domisticity, and a grand marketing ploy at that, but she does offer some mean appetizers, desserts, and entrees.

Ingredients:

2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour

1/2 cup granulated sugar

1/2 cup brown sugar

3 1/2 teaspoons baking powder

1 teaspoon salt

3 tablespoons vegetable oil

1 cup mashed ripe banana

3/4 cup milk (I use whole)

1 large egg

1 cup finely chopped walnuts

1 cup or so of semi-sweet chocolate morsels (optional)

1 tablespoon vanilla extract

cinnamon, cloves, and nutmeg to taste

I mash the bananas first, in a large mixing bowl (this one is an olive green Pyrex bowl from the 1960s). I then add the milk, vanilla, and spices, then stir in the granulated and brown sugar.

Here is the flour, salt, and baking powder in a smaller mixing bowl (a yellow polka dotted Pyrex, also from the 1960s, just in front of my yellow and green Tupperware cannisters). I add the flour slowly to the banana mixture, incorporating it well into the wet mix. Somewhere in between, when the mixture becomes too dry and difficult to stir, I add the egg and also the vegetable oil.

Here, I have stirred in the chocolate morsels and the walnuts. Other nuts could be substitued, and I have considered opting for dried cranberries or cherries in lieu of the chocolate, but chocolate always seems to win out. Must be the anti-oxidants.

Pour the mixture into a greased and floured 9x5x3 inch loaf pan (or something about that size) and bake in 350 degree oven for about an hour, or until the bread passes the toothpick test.

Delicious slice of bread, which in my eagerness to eat, I made look rather unattractive and unphotogenic by breaking (featured here on my rose Melmac plates, again, from the 1960s, noticing any kitchen trends?).