Tag Archives: cooking

Proof that I Actually Can Sometimes Every Once in a While Cook

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Okay. Here’s a test for book-club members. My four-woman group recently read a newly published book about family relationships that’s been making the rounds lately. (Side note: We were sort of “meh” about it, but more on that later.) It was my turn to host, and since at our mettings we always try to outdo and impress each other prepare a meal that ties in to the book we’ve read, I felt as if I’d hit the jackpot because one of the main characters in this book is a chef. Food descriptions are scattered throughout, and, honestly, we all agreed that they were the best part of this book. Anyway, I took my cue from the book and made, among other things, Elvis Cookies (roasted banana ice cream sandwiched between peanut butter cookes and rolled in caramelized bacon) and a spinach frittata. So the question is: What book did we read? If you’ve been keeping up with book-club news, you should get it. Of course, the other question is: Did anybody actually believe I’d made this entire meal myself, all by myself? As a widely known non-cook, I can understand folks’ skepticism. After all, while I worked in the kitchen that day, my husband anxiously kept asking me, “Honey? What are you doing? Do you feel okay?” and my fellow book-club members were stunned into silence when they saw their plates. At least, I think that’s why they didn’t say anything as they were eating.

Teenagers, Parents and Peach Jam

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To all parents who look at their teenagers — those strange alien creatures who know everything and about everything and believe you know nothing about anything — and cannot imagine them as coherent and responsible adults, I promise there’s hope. For instance, let’s say you have a teenage daughter who sports purple hair and multiple piercings (when she can get away with it) and has the annoying habit of seeing how far she can stretch your patience parental boundaries. I just happened to randomly pick this example, by the way. Nothing to do with any real person at all. Not at all. Anyway, if you’re in this situation, do not despair. It will seem as if one day your teenager incurs multiple weekends of enforced home time due to multiple infractions of parental rules (“No. 3. Being home by curfew means all parts of your body are inside the house and the door is closed. It does not mean you’re in the same general zip code.”)  and the next day she’s a wife and a mom and a Martha Stewart devotee who gets her whole family involved in making batches of lovely and delicious peach jam. Promise.

Let Me Eat Cake (Pops) & Donuts!

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Hmmm … is there anything better than a sweet not-good-for-you-at-all treat? No. There is not. And lately I’ve gotten to sample some especially yummy treats. On the left, how about some cake pops? My friend Susan C. was the first person I knew who ever made cake balls. That was about two years ago, and now that everybody’s got them, I sort of think she invented them. And now we’ve gone on to cake pops — fun little round bites of moist cake dipped in candy coating and sprinkles that you don’t even have to get your fingers messy when you eat them. Our neighbor brought these over to us to thank Husband JP for bringing in her garbage can when she forgets — he’s thoughtful that way. And then, on the right, we have a box of  Chattanooga’s Julie Darling Donuts. These are absolutely positively without-a-doubt the best doughnuts ever — with the possible exception of a hot just-glazed plain Krispy Kreme. I don’t know what’s in them that makes them so good but they are so good. I have to slice pieces off over the course of several days so I don’t just dive in. Julie Darling even showed me how good a true jelly doughnut can be. I never liked the usual version — a glop of tasteless gel-like colored stuff in the middle — but Julie Darling’s jellies are stuffed full of the real thing and the contrast of tart strawberry puree with the sweet icing and rich doughnut is simply … perfect.

Five Senses — Yum! (Sung to the Music from the Red Robin Ad)

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Oh my goodness! Husband and I recently had a wonderful meal at Five Senses restaurant in Murfreesboro, Tennessee quick overnight trip, and after a late and satisfying lunch on the way at Miss Annie’s Rustic Park Restaurant and Beer Garden in St. Joseph, Tennessee, it was later in the evening before we started thinking about eating again. (Oh, who am I kidding? When we’re on the road, I always think about eating.) The ‘Boro has some great choices, and since we still mourn the loss of downtown pizza place “Tomato, Tomato,” we picked its upscale sibling Five Senses. Or, rather, JP picked it and I agreed. It was either Five Senses or Red Robin, and while I always enjoy working my way down a tower of fried onion rings,  we made the correct decision here. We went with small plates instead of entrees and so started with three appetizers: fried oysters, Readyville Mill grits and a crabcake, all flavorful and with lovely sauces and little salads.  Then Husband JP had a wedge salad, which he was delighted to see came in deconstructed form so he could play with his food, and I had a salad with fresh local lettuce. And then, dessert. Oh my oh my.  Usually creme brulee is my go-to, but JP talked me out of it with a suggestion to try something new. Thank you, dear sweetie, because this trio of sorbets — pomegranate, mango and pink grapefruit on crispy lace cookies “glued” to the plate with homemade whipped cream — was absolutely divine. Every bite was cool, creamy, tart or sweet. And, honestly, to tell the truth, as much as I adore creme brulee and would eat it every day except that it’s like 10,000 calories per bite, the best part is the contrast of the crunchy sugar top with the smooth richness underneath. When that’s gone, it’s still good but bordering possibly on sameness. However, every bite of this sorbet — every single bite  — was an adventure. As it always is when I go out with my husband.

Meat and (Fried) Potatoes

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In an effort to impress y’all with how healthy and local and slow-food I am, I usually post photos of beautiful fresh vegetables that I’ve lovingly and barely cooked to release the best flavor and most nutrition. And I do eat like that. Mostly. Sometimes. Occasionally. But sometimes you just have to have meat. Such as these beautiful steaks my middle brother grilled this past weekend as the family gathered to celebrate the April 16 birthdays of our oldest and youngest members: It was my dad’s 77th and my nephew’s 1st. So, as always in the meat-atarian Wood clan, we marked the occasion with tender and juicy beef. Capt. Adorable — 3-y ear-old son of my vegetarian older daughter and her husband — could not get enough.  My husband also is a fan of meat, such as these warm and melty Philly-style sandwiches we get at United Steaks restaurant in Corinth, Miss. We’ll always say, “Remember, we can just order one sandwich and split it,” but we’ll forget that plan as soon as we’re at the counter and smell the cheese and hear the onions sizzling. But we do share our sides — I always order the hand-cut potato chips and he always orders the fries. Vegetables, you know.

Sports and Food — These are a Few of My Favorite Things

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I could sit here and write something new and witty and inspiring and motivational and smart. (No, really, I could.)  Or, I could make some more coffee and reuse things I’ve already written this week. French roast, anyone???

http://www.timesdaily.com/article/20110406/ARTICLES/304069999/1004?Title=New-Orleans-Bam– How to bring a touch of New Orleans to your own kitchen. This is a story about a cooking class at Sweet Basil Cafe, in Florence, Alabama, where owner Carole Graves excels at making delicious food and showing others how it’s done. Plus, the wine flows freely at her cooking classes, so what’s not to like?

http://www.timesdaily.com/article/20110408/ARTICLES/304089999/1031?Title=Chili-out-eat-up-at-cook-off — How my husband and I survived judging a local chili cook-off. I sampled around 50 — yes, 50 — bowls of chili and salsa at the cook-off in Corinth, Mississippi. A week later, I’m still recovering. But we had a blast. And I was even inspired to actually make a pot of chili … well, maybe someday.

http://nems360.com/view/full_story/12677193/article-JOHN-L–PITTS–Spring-quickly-becoming-my-favorite-season?instance=secondary_stories_left_column&sms_ss=facebook&at_xt=4d9df47ee582cd73%2C0 — Here’s a bonus read because you’ve been so patient to wade through my scribblings. My sports-editor husband is the real writer in this family. He makes sports accessible even to non-sports folks such as me — I still don’t understand golf, NASCAR or why sometimes football players just stand around and watch the ball drop. But I love my husband, so it’s okay.

But Grandbabies’ Parties are the Best!

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Grandson Capt. Adorable turned 3 this past weekend, and his mom (my older daughter) wisely decided to celebrate by 1) a family trip to the Tennessee Aquarium in Chattanooga, where the Captain’s favorite thing was “I touched a sting ray!” and 2) a family — grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins — party with all the essentials of cake, ice cream and munchies. (Of course, it was so cold that day that we forgot the ice cream. Oh well.) I thought she was smart in forgoing the fun but insane kid-frenzy type of party they’d had for the Captain’s second birthday. “After all,” she said, “his family are his most important people.” So props to her for keeping it simple. But that’s totally them — do-it-yourself to save money and because you’ll probably end up with something better anyway. For instance, the Captain requested a Dinosaur Train (he loves that TV show) cake, and since no such decor could be found anywhere, his artist-and-art-teacher daddy printed and cut out the cake decorations on his own. Brilliant! Add the cake and his favorite people to two other of the Captain’s favorite things — blueberries and tractor rides on Grandad’s farm — and it was a perfect third birthday!

Friends, Books and Ice Cream All are Good for You

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My friend Susan is the most amazing cook and hostess ever. Our four-woman book club met at her house this past week and she served us a meal so healthy and delicious we didn’t want to stop eating long enough to discuss the book — which was Winter’s Bone, by the way, and excellent. Susan started impressing us with bruschetta (roasted garbanzo beans, onions, tomatoes and other fresh veggies on grilled bread) and then went on to a cup of chicken soup with pita-chip croutons. Entrees were beautifully grilled salmon steaks with roasted potatoes and vegetables. And then there was dessert. And I know you’re thinking when you look at this ice-cream delight, “But I thought this was a healthy meal.” It was! Susan, with her shopping skills, found these low-fat and 140-calorie ice-cream sandwiches from Skinny Cow and topped them with heart-healthy walnuts, strawberries and blueberries. I’d never had any Skinny Cow products before since I tend to walk very fast past the ice-cream aisle at the grocery to prevent being irresistibly drawn to the Ben & Jerry’s section, where I usually stand there with the cooler door open wondering how many calories and fat grams Chocolate Fudge Brownie ice cream actually can have. (Denial. I’m in denial.) And I have to admit I’ve had unpleasant low-fat, low-calorie, low-whatever ice-cream experiences. Haven’t we all? But I’m telling you: Skinny Cow is good. And when it has the Susan seal of approval, you know it’s a winner.

Of Food, Clocks and Men

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Here are some things I’ve written lately — a couple of food stories and my weekly newspaper column — that you might like to read. And this does not mean I’m too lazy to put up a blog post this morning. No, it does not mean that at all. Nope. Definitely not.

Did you know that food can help you deal with the stress of this weekend’s time change? It’s true. Studies show that the first few days after springing forward (and you have to do that this Sunday morning, remember) can be stressful as folks adjust to the changing routine. But using mealtimes as a way to combat the effects of eating breakfast in the dark and supper at 10 p.m. can help! (This story includes some fun and easy breakfast ideas.)

And don’t forget that St. Patrick’s Day is Thursday. Even here in northwest Alabama, where leprechauns are pretty rare and Guiness is considered an exotic brew, there’s a deep Irish connection we can honor with food.

I’m almost 54 years old. I still do not always understand men. And by “men,” of course, I mean my husband. But when the “men” are a precious 3-year-old who’s cute and sweet and has a smile that makes me melt and say things such as “Sure, sweetie, I’ll read ‘Cat in the Hat’ again for the fifth time,” I understand completely.

You Say “Tomato,” I Say “Let’s Go Out to Eat”

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Is there anything more comforting and yummy on a chilly and rainy January day than a bowl of creamy tomato soup? I’m going to go ahead and answer my own question with “No. There is not.” And I know that this love we all have for tomato soup goes back to childhood days when the sound and the smell of Mom opening a can of Campbell’s best meant we were loved and taken care of.  Or, alternatively and equally as true, that Mom had better things to do than to peel and seed and cook down a bunch of tomatoes just so we could rush through supper and then go watch Gilligan’s Island. Fast forward to 2011, and cream of tomato soup in all its forms still warms us up. If it’s on the menu when Husband and I go out, then I’ll usually order it, just to see how this classic gets treated. And at Pizza Grocery in Corinth, Miss., — one of our all-time favorite places — the tomato soup is a hit. As befits a pizza place, it’s reminiscent of pizza sauce, with subtle spices that blend perfectly with a dollop of garlic aioli on top and a crunchy parmesan bread stick. And, it’s true — you’ll notice that talking about cream of tomato soup leads me straight into talking about restaurants instead of talking about the wonderful recipe I’ve got for making this classic at home. I know it’s simple and satisfying to do at home and in fact I do have a great recipe that I’ve looked at and thought about … uh, I mean, that I’ve tried a couple of times. Okay, honestly? I’ve never made tomato soup at home. But I have opened a lot of cans.