Martha My Way

It's been a month since I last posted, which is an indication in and of itself of the progress I'm making in my quest to be more like Martha. So while I come to terms with the idea that I'm really not making any progress at all, nights like the one described below are invaluable. The following is my most recent post from my other blog, Trial by Toddlers, about life with young kids:

Last night I had an idyllic evening with my kids. We started out covering the dining room table with paper and then making a simple craft that involved glue and was therefore guaranteed fun. While our glue dried, we moved to the island and made, as a group, pizza dough. Both Jacob and Hannah made their own mini pizzas that they kneaded and rolled out. Hannah's was shaped like a twisted figure 8, and Jacob's was somewhat circular. Both objects of extreme pride. They sauced them, added pepperoni, and then topped with cheese. By the time we were done we were all covered in flour. And as I looked around at the mess we had made, at our unfinished craft on the table, at our smiling faces, I realized - this is my version of Martha.

 Not quite magazine-worthy, but memorable nonetheless. And I don't think I would trade the fun we had for a gourmet meal or an exquisite craft. It was just me being me with my beautiful children. Even Martha can't compete with that.

Apple Butter or Apple Blah

Due to unforeseen circumstances, I was left to my own devices when it came to making and canning my apple butter. Bear in mind that I had only one previous experience with canning (and despite my blog title claiming "I Was Martha", I was really was no such thing - rather, I was a hapless observer). So, it was with some trepidation that I collected my supplies and prepared my work area. I had no laundry on the line and no chickens in the backyard, but I felt quite domestic nonetheless.

I carefully sterilized my jars and all of my canning equipment. I read and re-read the recipe eighty-three times. Then, I started peeling and slicing apples. I continued peeling and slicing apples for a very loooong time. Which reminds me - how big is a slice? When a recipe calls for apples to be peeled, cored, and sliced, it would be helpful to know how large those slices ought to be. Regardless, I eventually had all the apples ready with the rest of my ingredients on stand-by. It was time to begin the cooking part. The easy part. Right.

I successfully brought my apple cider to a gentle boil, added my rather large apple slices, and simmered that concoction until the apples were soft enough to mash easily. It took about fifteen minutes. The recipe suggested thirty. I moved on.

Next, I stirred in my sugar and cinnamon until well blended. All that was left was to cook the mixture, stirring often, until it had thickened and reduced considerably. The recipe suggested this step might take one hour. It took three. And my mixture still looked a bit more like cider than sauce or butter. But seriously, how much time can one really allow for reducing? I had other things to do.

So I ladled my soupy mixture into the waiting jars, applied the lids, and processed the whole lot. Then I gave some jars away to await the verdict: Apple Butter or Apple Blah?

Recipe Precision

This weekend, my sister-in-law Tracy, brought a delicious squash dish to our Thanksgiving dinner. Of course, I wanted to know how to make it. After all, using seasonal ingredients is very Martha. When Tracy described the recipe as a "no brainer", I thought, "Well, this is perfect for me." She then proceeded to give me instructions that became increasingly detailed and specific and incredibly vague at the same time. A strange feat - but here is a sample of how the conversation went (with my thoughts in italics):

Tracy: "Just add a "clunk" of butter. A clunk? What the %^$$ is a clunk? Then pack the crap out if with dark brown sugar. Cook it at 350 for about 45 min. to an hour.

Me: What kind of squash did you use? Butternut?

Tracy: Yeah, butternut. You know, the green ones. Umm, green butternut?

Me: You mean acorn?

Tracy: Whatever. The green dudes. Ah, the green dudes. Of course.

Me: So, not butternut?

Tracy: I guess not. Anyway, you have to make sure it's face-up in the baking pan wrapped in foil separately. Like a closed envelope. But sometimes there's a little pointy thing on the bottom, so you have to cut that off first. If you don't cut off the nubbins it will teeter. So dispose of those nipples. After you're done cooking it, open the top of the dude and spoon out the insides. You don't want any green stuff - it's gross. Then, take the brown sugary sauce and dump it all over the top. You'll probably burn yourself. I always do. Great. Can't wait for that part. Did you just say nubbins?

With instructions like that, how can I go wrong? As long as buy the right "dudes" and remember to cut off the "nubbins", measure my "clunk" of butter carefully, and then "pack the crap out it with brown sugar", I should be in good shape.

Heck, I might even pull this one off without burning myself. That's how good I'm getting!

I Was Martha!

Last weekend, for one day, I was Martha. Or something close to it. I canned salsa. On a farm. With chickens. I chopped fresh vegetables straight out of a garden that was bigger than my backyard. Then, with the help of an experienced canner, I turned those chopped vegetables into a pot of boiling salsa-like liquid. While our tasty concoction simmered away, we stepped outside to enjoy a cup of tea in the sun on a deck overlooking mature trees and a pond. Ah, heaven.

After transferring the completed salsa to sterilized jars, we sealed the lids (I fished them out of the boiling water using a very handy magnetic lid-lifter-thing) and then processed the now-full jars. I felt very domestic. Part of that feeling may have come from my surroundings - laundry on the line, chickens clucking happily, plants growing everywhere, majestic trees, etc. A slight departure from my everyday reality of living in a construction zone filled with dust, dirt, and dump trucks. We don't even have grass.

So this weekend, I'm going to be Martha in my own house. Today I went to the Wellesley Apple Butter and Cheese Festival, except I didn't buy any apple butter. Because I'm going to make my own! Instead, I bought fresh apple cider which I will use to make that apple butter. There won't be any chickens, but my kitchen will nonetheless be filled with the happy sounds of canning. Chanthone, my canning mentor, will surely help to avert any potential canning disasters, thereby allowing me to revel in my Martha-like domesticity.

This Isn't Quite How Martha Would Do It...

Today I spontaneously invited a friend and her family over for dinner. I casually mentioned that I was making chicken fettuccini alfredo with carrots and broccoli. I got home and couldn't find the chicken I had asked my husband to take out of the freezer the night before. "Oh yeah," he said. "There wasn't any." Okay. So we would have fettuccini alfredo sans chicken. Not a bad meal. I started boiling water in a medium-sized sauce pan. I found the fettuccini noodles and realized there weren't really enough left for company. I switched to linguine. Upon dumping the linguine into the now-boiling water, I immediately saw that I should have used a larger pot. Scott pointed out that I might have put in too many noodles, but I protested gently and continued anyway. As the noodles neared completion, Scott was forced to intervene by transferring the whole mess to a bigger pot. The noodles near the top were not submerged enough to cook properly and the noodles at the bottom were actually burned onto the pot. My company, and good friend Mandy, may or may not have noticed. After allowing Scott to rescue the pasta, I thought it might be nice to have some Pillsbury crescent rolls with the meal. So Scott got those ready. Note - the pasta was moments away from completion.

With Mandy standing right beside me, eager to see what she was about to eat, I began ladling the mixture onto our plates. Except I somehow missed a plate and ladled some right onto the counter. Nice. For someone who has been trying to learn to cook and be altogether a little more "Martha-like" I wasn't putting on a good show. To make matters worse, our crescent rolls weren't ready until about 10 minutes after we finished the pasta. Try telling four young kids to stay in their seats because dinner is coming in two parts and the second part is delayed for no other reason than the hostess didn't think of it until the first part was finished cooking. It was at this juncture that Scott made the following kind observation: "This isn't quite how Martha would do it."

So maybe I haven't really made any progress. But there is this - Mandy liked the meal enough to want to try it herself. I gave her cooking tips, if you can imagine that. Then we started talking about other recipes. I'm even going to show her how to make a peach cobbler (as if that isn't the epitome of Martha). If Mandy (or anyone for that matter) begins to come to me for advice in the kitchen, what does that say about my abilities? Or, perhaps more to the point, what does it say about Mandy's?

Perhaps Not Gourmet...

Last night's dinner might not have been gourmet, but it was still delicious. Unfortunately in the picture, the only thing that looks good is the salad. However, the yellowish pile was actually the best part - a Dutch treat called Stompot. It's a mixture of potato, carrots, and onion. So good. And impossible to mess up. The chicken was simply marinated in lemon juice and then barbecued. Add a salad of spinach leaves, mushrooms, strawberries, and raspberry vinaigrette, then throw in a dinner roll (or half of one) and voilia! A dinner the whole family will eat.

How to make this delicious (though not delicious-looking) Stompot:

Boil potatoes with carrots and onions. There are no precise quantities. If you like onion flavour, add more. I try to make the potato and carrots even out. Then mash it all together will a little bit of butter and milk. My kids love it served with a ketchup smiley face on top (and it does taste really good with ketchup).

So for everyone who struggles like I do in the kitchen, here's a dish to try!

Crafts I Can Actually Do!

I love the idea of being crafty. I have multiple craft bins filled with the types of things I imagine one needs to create "things". Unfortunately, the things I create usually don't resemble the things I intended to make. I have the vision in my mind and then there's the "what-the-heck-is-that-supposed-to-be" in my hands. It's discouraging, to say the least. However, I have at last discovered a source for crafts that not only requires many of the items in my craft bin, but that I can actually make!

It's a t.v. show called Mr. Maker (http://www.mistermaker.com/). Forget that it targets pre-schoolers. Some of his crafts are downright cool. And I have to admit, I get just as excited as Hannah about trying them out. The other day we made watercolours in reflection that rival some of my best artwork. Even though these crafts are designed for 3 year-olds, don't be fooled - we worked with pastels just the other day. As if that isn't advanced!

Garden Envy

My last post detailed my lack of success with gardening. This one will lay out my plan, if I have the guts to follow through with it, of at least gaining some background on what I need to do in order to accomplish the kind of landscaping I would like around my house.

In my previous neighbourhood, right beside the park, there was a house with gardens I admired. While my children were happily climbing and sliding, I stared at this yard with envy. The front steps were flanked by brilliant bursts of colour, intertwined with tasteful greenery. The backyard housed a patio also spotted with colour, and more importantly, a small, ostensibly manageable vegetable garden. Along the fence, there were sunflowers stretching toward the sky. "That's the kind of yard I want," I said.

Had I hatched my current plan while I still lived on that side of the city, it would have been more convenient; however, it only occurred to me after I moved - I need to talk to the gardener of that house. I need to interview her and find out exactly what plants she has. Whether or not they are hardy enough to survive my not-so-green thumbs. How often she tends to them. Which ones are annuals and which ones are perennials. If she has gardening experience or somehow just made this miracle happen. Basically, I need to know how to replicate the gardens I covet.

This means I might end up driving to the other side of the city only to discover she's not home, or doesn't want to talk to some crazy woman who wants to know all about her flowers. Maybe I should just take pictures and hope no one notices. I know Scott has plans for our yard and they were conceived with the help of a landscape architect - I won't dismiss those. I simply want to add my own vision to them. I may not be able to cook a decent piccata, but surely I can grow a simple flower?

Is a Green Thumb Genetic?

I have often lamented my inability to garden. It seems like people around me are able, with a minimum of effort, to produce gardens in front of their homes that are pleasing to look at. My first attempt at a garden went something like this:

I dug out all the weeds and some were really hard to get out. I was quite proud of conquering those “difficult” ones until my neighbour told me I’d just dug out the roots to all the hostas. I put some of those back, unsure what they even were but convinced enough by her horror that they were worthy plants to have.  I then got ready to plant the package of seeds I had earlier purchased. I can’t remember what they were exactly, other than that they were a mix of supposedly hearty wild flowers. They could, I was ensured, thrive on neglect. Just the thing for me.

After planting, I began to boast to people about my soon-to-be-garden. “It’s going to be a symphony of colour!” I exclaimed. I could hardly wait for it to burst into bloom. And then… nothing happened. Not a single flower grew. Just dirt. And weeds. Oh, and the hostas that I’d so unceremoniously dug up and re-planted. So instead, I admired my neighbours’ gardens and tried to ignore my own patch of sorry-looking dirt.

A Brief Pause in the Action

My Martha Stewart project has stalled. I’ve been away at cottages and packing up a house, so trying new recipes or any of the other things I’m supposed to be experimenting with just haven’t happened lately. But now that I’m installed in my new house, with one month before returning to work, I’m ready to continue the project with renewed vigour.

I’ve decided I need more structure. In order to accomplish anything worthwhile, I have to construct a more concrete plan. My four main goals, as originally stated, were something along the lines of:

1. Learn to cook.
2. Learn to be a bit more crafty.
3. Learn to garden.
4. Become organized.

So far, I’ve only focused on the first and without any great success. My new plan calls for increased accountability and increased emphasis on all four areas.

To start, I hope to try at least two new recipes per week. That should take care of learning to cook. Or at least adding some variety to my rather skimpy existing skill set. As for the crafts, well, that’s really a minor goal and I’ve decided to relegate it to holiday occasions. Things like Thanksgiving and Christmas. Then, I’ll turn up the heat in that area. Gardening. I have a plan there. And it’s a little bit strange. But with a new house, and a blank slate, there’s no end to the potential. The actual plan will follow in a later post – if I have the guts to go through with it. That leaves the final goal: organization. My life-long nemesis. Once again, with a new (and bigger) house I have grandiose plans to finally conquer that one.

Therefore, I am ready renew my enthusiasm for Project: Martha Stewart Me and start to see some real progress!

Piccata Nightmare

Well, I finally made the Lemon Chicken Piccata last night. It was not exactly the stuff dreams are made of. But first, I should point out that I clearly wasn't ready to handle this dish and only made it under considerable pressure. I had company, to boot. In fact, it was my company's mother who encouraged/demanded I make this dish for her daughter. (Perhaps so she could enjoy a first-hand account of my failure?)

It started out innocently enough. I had to cut some slices from a lemon, and then squeeze the juice from 3 others. I put my company to work on that easy task. While she squeezed, I began to prepare the chicken pieces. First, I had to coat them with Miracle Whip. That sounds relatively simple, as well. But coating slippery chicken with equally slippery Miracle Whip is actually quite challenging. Because I was concentrating so hard, I realized too late that I was dipping my raw-chicken-coating spoon directly back into the jar of Miracle Whip, thereby contaminating the entire contents. Great. The next step was to coat the already coated chicken with crushed Ritz crackers. Since the chicken was such a slimy mess, I opted to sprinkle the crumbs over the pieces and then flip them over to repeat the process on the other side. Which didn't work. The Miracle Whip stuck to the plate instead of the chicken and no matter how many times I flipped those pieces of chicken, they never seemed to have any Ritz crumbs on them!

Moving on to the cooking part. The recipe suggested cooking the 4 small pieces of chicken in a frying for 5 min. per side. My pieces were apparently much larger or thicker than the recipe intended and took about 25 min. to cook. Which meant that the lovely Ritz cracker/Miracle Whip coating was burnt to a crisp and I had to keep scraping it out of the pan to avoid setting off the smoke alarms. It also meant my rice was done ages before my chicken. And finally, it meant I had destroyed yet another "easy" meal. At this point, I was meant to sprinkle the chicken on my platter with fresh parsley. Given that my decimated chicken was sitting on a plate surrounded by a pile of burnt scraps, and that my not-fresh parsley from a jar was actually 7 years old and an interesting yellow colour, I opted to skip that step altogether.

Interestingly, in the end everything tasted fine. It looked horrible, but I didn't have to order an emergency pizza. Still, I had such high hopes for that Piccata...

Just Add Water

Despite my recent experiments in the kitchen, I haven't really changed my basic cooking habits. Take, for example, Hannah's 4th birthday. As a Martha Stewart wannabe, this occasion was the perfect opportunity to do something special. Instead, I made an angel food cake. From a box. The only instruction: add water. Heck, even last year I did better than that by making little monkey cupcakes. If possible, I'm regressing!

For further proof, look no further than this morning. I have, in the past, made pancakes from scratch. And it's not hard. Yet, this morning I once again resorted to a pre-packaged mix of pancake batter where I could just add water. To be fair, I did throw in some blueberries...

Just add water? Is that really where I'm at? I absolutely must make that chicken piccata before I lose all forward momentum.

Peppers, Panic, and Invisible Sauce

I did it. I made the asparagus pasta dish with orange pepper and sun-dried tomatoes. But not without incident. I had all the ingredients, minus the fresh oregano - really, who has fresh spices on hand - and even arranged them around me as if I was on a cooking show. I had little dishes of chopped pepper ready to go, a neat pile of cubed cream cheese, and even an audience consisting of a captivated 4 year-old and an interfering 2 year-old. I felt good. The skillet was heated. The ingredients were ready. Well, almost. When giving quantities or measurements in a recipe, certain descriptions are hardly helpful. 450 grams of fresh asparagus, for example. How about telling me an approximate number of stalks? That would seem to make more sense. However, using the beautiful picture to make an educated inference, I think I came close. About that picture...

I understand that magazines have special people to make the food in pictures look good. But really, when the real thing deviates so drastically from that unattainable image, it's very discouraging. Especially to the cook who is using the picture as a measure of success for every step in the recipe. Does this look right? Are my peppers the right size? Needless to say, my final product did not exactly resemble the model on the page. Which made me feel bad. Like I'd already failed before even tasting the dish.

One last complaint about the actual recipe: when the instructions say "stir until sauce is slightly thickened" it would be helpful if said recipe actually produced some kind of sauce. Then the already frazzled cook would not have to mutter things like, "What sauce? I don't have any sauce! How come I have no sauce? Did I miss something?" Panic is so not-helpful in the kitchen.

I did manage, however, to complete the recipe (invisible sauce and all) in time to serve my family their incredible dinner. I liked it. A lot. Hannah did not. She proceeded to spit out every bite of pepper or tomato that snuck into her mouth. To be truthful, she didn't just spit them out. She gagged. She made faces. She commented that this was "asgusting". To my relief, she did like the noodles. So all was not lost.

I Say Piccata

I've been a bit negligent in the kitchen lately. I haven't been diligent about trying new recipes and that doesn't bode well for becoming an accomplished chef (or even a competent cook). So, to make up for my lassitude, I am attempting three new recipes in one week.

First, I will try an asparagus pasta complete with sun-dried tomatoes and orange peppers (add two more items to the list of vegetables I have never purchased before).

Second, I will make a lemon-chicken piccata. I have no idea what a piccata is, but it sounds quite advanced. I like the way the word rolls off my tongue, too. Piccata.

Third, I will test-drive a recipe for home-made pizza. This one isn't really a stretch for me, because we make pizza often, using our bread maker. This time, however, I will be making the dough without the aid of any equipment. Just thinking about it makes me feel a bit more domestic.

Introducing Colour to the Kitchen

A few days ago I prepared a simple dinner that almost made me pull out the camera. For someone who used to only cook about 4 different dishes, there hasn't been a lot of variety or colour around the kitchen during meal preparations. However, in assembling the ingredients for this tasty meal I had an array of bright colours neatly piled on my white cutting board. Okay, by "array", I really mean 3 different colours - but it was striking, nonetheless. So, what did I make?

I started with marinating some chicken in pure lemon juice (squeezed straight out of a lemon) and Montreal Chicken Spice, which I would later barbeque to mediocre perfection. Colour #1 = bright yellow halves of lemon, sitting at a picturesque angle.

Then, I chopped up some mushrooms to saute with sugar snap peas in teriyaki sauce. So delicious and simple. Colours #2 & 3 = brilliant white paired with intense green. Add in the lemon rinds and there you have the photo opportunity. Or what for me would be a photo opportunity.

I also had some rice simmering, but it was not picture-worthy. All in all, I have to admit, I felt a little Martha Stewartish. If only I had concocted some type of home-made dessert to complement the meal. Maybe a nice chocolate souffle.

To Blanch or Not To Blanch

It's been almost a week since my last post, and although I've been busy, I have not abandoned my project. In fact, I tried another new recipe which further highlighted my ineptitude around the kitchen. Not complete ineptitude, I can handle some basics - I just lack a certain finesse. That finesse including a few possibly basic cooking terms. Like blanching. To me, that means "turn white". Thankfully, my recipe provider understands the need to explain the instructions in her recipes.

Example: blanch the spinach (dump it into boiling water for a short time)

I appreciated the additional explanation, as attempting to turn the spinach white would have been a fruitless endeavour; however, for a short time, is rather vague. How long is a short time? 30 seconds? Seven minutes? I certainly had no idea. And, as we've seen, previous vague instructions like "add some cornstarch to thicken" did not cue my cooking common sense to kick in.

Rather than mess up another recipe, I asked someone in the staff room. Ah, apparently, a short time is about a minute, or until the spinach is limp. Helpful. Then I asked my next question, which in hindsight, even I admit was embarrassing: "Would it be about the same amount of time for frozen spinach?"

Pre-cooked, frozen spinach. Given a second to think about it, I could have answered that one myself. But the fact that my brain even entertained the thought long enough for my mouth to spew it out is rather telling. These things do not come naturally to me!

Enough about the blanching. Here's what I actually made, and spinach aside, I had no other hiccups.

The Recipe: 
Ham and Spinach Quiche

1 cup cubed ham

1 small package of spinach, blanched in boiling water. Squeeze out water from the wilted leaves. (Or 5 cubes of frozen cooked spinach -- don't forget to squeeze out the extra water.)

1 cup grated Cheddar cheese

Scatter the above ingredients in to pie shell.

In a medium mixing bowl :

4 eggs

1/2 cup milk

Pinch of black pepper

Beat together and pour over pie shell crust and filling.

Bake @350 for 35-45 mins. or until center is set. Cool for 10 mins. before cutting.

* You may sub in any cooked veggie you like in place of the spinach (i.e., broccoli, asparagus, etc.).

Re-Creating the Moments

It's time to take a step away from my culinary problems and look at my not-so-crafty side. I grew up in a crafty house, with a mother who can sew, embroider, crochet, and generally make nice-looking holiday crafts. In fact, I have fond memories of watching her and a friend turn out all kinds of Christmas crafts while I played around with the scraps they tossed my way. I knew my creations were simplistic (even ugly), but I was little and everything I did was simple. I couldn't wait until the day I got bigger and made "real" crafts.

I'm still waiting.

Case in point: many parents make lovely photo albums or scrap books for their children. I forget to take pictures. Or miss the cute ones and then force my very young offspring to "do it again" so I can attempt to capture it. Last year, Hannah did so many adorable things while we were camping and almost every time I had to a) borrow a camera (I forgot mine, for the third year in a row); and then b) ask to her re-do the pose.

"Hannah, go back in the tent and poke your head out. Good. Now put your head in your hands and stare into the distance with a dreamy look on your face."

Just recently, Jacob had his first official haircut. Of course, I didn't have a camera. I tried to let it go, but just couldn't, so a week later I took him back and asked if I could take some fake shots of him in the chair with the cape. The stylist was even kind enough to comb his hair as if she were about to cut it to make the pictures more authentic.

I feel like this wouldn't happen to Martha.

A Recipe for Cement

About 4 years ago, right after I had my first baby, a friend brought me some individual-sized, home-made, frozen chicken pot pies. The first time I had one, I was hooked. These delicious, one-dish meals were full of flavour and vegetables (two things sadly lacking in my own cooking). She said they were easy to make and passed on the recipe so I could fill my freezer with a healthy supply.

It took me 2 years to finally summon the courage to attempt what did not look like an "easy" recipe at all. But, I pulled up my shirt sleeves and resolved to make a large batch. I cooked the chicken. I washed, cut, and cooked the vegetables. I had my store-bought pie shells ready. I just needed to make the filling and thicken it with cornstarch. The recipe said something like "add cornstarch to thicken". What kind of instruction is that? I started small, without any real idea of how much cornstarch I should be adding. I stirred and stirred and that filling did not thicken. I added more cornstarch. Still nothing. By the time I had added more than a cup of the stuff, I started to become concerned. Then I read the box. Oh. It thickens over heat. A helpful thing to know. So I brought my cornstarch-saturated mixture to a boil. And boy did it thicken. It solidified right in the pot. I scooped it into my pie shells, crossed my fingers, and froze all 30 portions.

Inedible portions, it later turned out. And this is why this project is so important. I clearly need help.

Sugar and Spice and Everything Nice

As per my first post, I don't (or I should say, didn't) cook with fresh herbs. To be honest, I hardly even cook with spices. I used to have this one spice called "Allspice" and I thought it pretty much covered everything. To me, it tasted great. I used it on meat, potatoes, whatever. But my husband hated it. So I replaced it with a variety of other familiar-sounding flavours: oregano, thyme, garlic, etc. In fact, we got an entire spice rack filled with exotic ingredients as a wedding present. That was 6 1/2 years ago. I still use those same spices, which says something about how often I actually incorporate spices into my meals.

I know - spices have a shelf life. What is it? 6 months or something like that? Well, I always thought that the ones I have still seemed fine after 6 years. Except for the ones that have hardened into unusable solids. But I never used those ones anyway. Needless to say, I am looking forward to learning how different spices and flavours will enhance the increasingly complex meals I will be making. And since my own collection of spices just might be past its "best before" date, I especially like the idea of using fresh ingredients, where practical.

My husband, Scott, is probably looking forward to food with some flavour. Although secretly, I still think that "Allspice" had something going for it!

First Time with Fresh Herbs

The title of this post alone should give you a pretty good idea of my skills in the kitchen. So I am proud to proclaim that last night I made a pasta sauce from scratch, using actual leaves of basil. Not even store-bought basil - this was straight out of somebody's garden. There was still dirt on it, that's how fresh it was.

We love pasta in our house. It features on our menu at least once or twice a week (when you only have 4 things you know how to make, repeats are unavoidable). I used to absolutely love Original Ragu with Ground Beef, but then they changed their recipe and their sauce became very watery. I tried a few other brands and couldn't find anything I really liked. The thought of making my own sauce was very appealing to me; however, it also was also strangely intimidating. Opening a jar had set a very simple precedent.

Enter my first "expert" or cooking coach. Chanthone ("Martha blown-out-of-the-water") offered to provide me with one recipe/week to start building my cooking repetoire and skills. And so I attempted a sauce made from fresh tomatoes, fresh garlic, and fresh basil (courtesy of Chanthone's garden). It was restaurant-style good. Now, I realize my standards might be somewhat disadvantaged, but this recipe put me in a whole new level of cooking ability. I cooked with fresh herbs, for Pete's sake!

If this is the type of progress I see after one day, I'm almost scared of what a year will do. I just might be giving Martha tips!

The Recipe: (written in language for a non-cook)

Fresh Tomato Sauce

2 tbsp. olive oil or butter
2 cloves garlic, crushed and chopped
Saute in frying pan until softened (2-3 min.)

Add:
2 stalks green onions chopped (I did have to call a friend to see what parts of the onion you use...)
2 medium tomatoes, diced into 1" cubes
1/2 tsp. salt
1 tsp. sugar

Simmer over medium heat until everything is soft and looks like chunky sauce. Add 1 tbsp. basil (approx. 5 large leaves), finely chopped (stack leaves together, roll it cigar style, and slice thin slivers). Adding the herb last will give you a fresher taste of the herb.

If you want to add chicken (I did), add boneless, cut-up pieces of raw chicken after the garlic has softened and cook until the chicken is done. Then add the rest of ingredients as listed.