Mmmmm, Soup!

The best thing about the Easter feast? Leftovers. I made a picnic pork shoulder roast with mushroom gravy. Mmmmm. When all the feasting was done, I had a lovely pork bone just perfect for making stock. I'd never made porky pig ham stock before, but I figured it couldn't be much different than making poultry stock and so I did!

Delicioso!

Pork Shoulder with Mustard-Mushroom Gravy

3 tablespoons vegetable oil
4 cups chopped onions
2 cups chopped peeled carrots (about 12 ounces)
1 1/2 teaspoons dried thyme
1 bay leaf
4 1/2 cups (or more) canned low-salt chicken broth
2 cups dry white wine
1 7 1/2-pound picnic pork shoulder roast, trimmed of rind and all but 1/8-inch-thick layer of fat
6 tablespoons (3/4 stick) butter, room temperature
1/2 pound fresh shiitake mushrooms, stemmed, coarsely chopped
6 ounces crimini mushrooms, coarsely chopped
1/4 cup unbleached all purpose flour
3 tablespoons Dijon mustard

Heat oil in heavy large pot over medium-high heat. Add onions, carrots, thyme and bay leaf. Sauté until tender, about 10 minutes. Add 4 1/2 cups broth and wine. Bring to boil. Reduce heat; cover pot partially. Simmer 40 minutes, stirring occasionally and skimming off fat if necessary. Strain into 4-cup glass measuring cup, pressing on solids; discard solids. Add more broth if necessary to measure 4 cups, or return broth to pot and boil until reduced to 4 cups. (Can be made 1 day ahead. Cool to room temperature. Cover; chill.)

Position rack in bottom third of oven and preheat to 325°F. Place roasting rack in shallow roasting pan. Sprinkle pork generously with salt and pepper. Set pork, fat side up, on rack in roasting pan. Roast until thermometer inserted into thickest part of pork registers 180°F, about 3 hours. Transfer to cutting board. Tent with foil. Scrape pan juices into 1-cup glass measuring cup. Spoon off fat. Reserve juices.

Melt 2 tablespoons butter in heavy large skillet over medium heat. Add all mushrooms. Cover and cook until tender, stirring often, about 10 minutes.

Pour pan juices and 4 cups broth into mushrooms. Bring to simmer. Mix 4 tablespoons butter and flour in small bowl to form paste. Add mustard. Gradually whisk paste into skillet. Cook until gravy thickens slightly, whisking occasionally, about 5 minutes. Serve pork with gravy.

After da food, stick the bone in a pot of water with some salt and pepper and spices and seasonings of your choice. Boil, boil til the bone crumbles, adding water as needed to keep the bone completely submerged.

Strain, cover and refrigerate the liquid gold. Remove the layer of fat that'll gather on top before using. Freeze or use within a week.

Homemade pork stock + leftover mushroom gravy + a handful of carrots + a bunch of cubed ham + a cup of barley =


Steven actually said, "Doggone it, this soup is delicious, dear."

Much better, thank you!

Had a poopity day today. There's only so long that I can listen to other peoples' problems before I just lose it. And so, I went hunting. For a greasy, fattening and utterly delicious lunch.

Sonic! I thought. Sonic has delicious greasy cheeseburgers AND cherry vanilla Dr. Pepper! Can life get better? I submit that it cannot.

Except...

I've been so bad lately. Eating junk food. Not wanting to cook dinner at night. What's up with that?

So I talked myself down. Topz! That's the solution! It's the guilt-free grill! One grilled ahi tuna burger and an order of baked, not fried onion rings later and I was feeling fine. (and $10 lighter, but that's beside the point, right?)


Yes, I took a picture of my onion ring while stopped at a light. Pipe down! At least I wasn't on a cell phone!

Bay, Bay for Everyone!

We've already established that my parents are awesome, right?

Here is the lovely apron they had made for me when I mentioned wanting a "June Cleaver- type apron" one Christmas. Isn't it cute?!

(Pay no attention to the sumo- hairstyle. That's how I always look in the kitchen.)

But what's that weird plant- like alien life form on the wall? Oh that? That's just my bay leaf wreath. What? You don't have a bay leaf wreath? Oh, for shame. I pity the fool who doesn't have a bay leaf wreath. Bay is so good in so many things. Liiiikkkkeeee...

Mr. Brown's Tomato Sauce

You'll need:

2 (28-ounce) cans whole, peeled tomatoes (or you can use fresh. This is perfect for when your neighbor brings you twelve bushels of their leftover tomatoes.)
1/4 cup sherry vinegar
1/4 cup sugar
1 teaspoon red pepper flakes
1 teaspoon dried oregano
1 teaspoon dried basil
1 onion
1 carrot
1 stalk celery
2 ounces olive oil
4 cloves garlic, minced
3 tablespoons capers, rinsed and drained (no capers for me)
1/2 cup white wine (I use chicken broth)
Kosher salt and black pepper, to taste
Bay. Tons of bay. The recipe doesn't call for it, but I think it adds a little extra flavor boost.

In a sieve over a medium non-reactive saucepot, strain the tomatoes of their juice into the sauce pot. Add the sherry vinegar, sugar, red pepper flakes, oregano, and basil (and bay, if you're using it. And why wouldn't you use it?) to the tomato juice. Stir and cook over high heat. Once bubbles begin to form on the surface, reduce to a simmer. Allow liquid to reduce by 1/2 or until liquid has thickened to a loose syrup consistency.

Squeeze each tomato thoroughly to ensure most seeds are removed. Set the tomatoes aside.

Cut carrot, onion, and celery into uniform sizes and combine with olive oil and garlic in a non-reactive roasting pan over low heat. Sweat the mirepoix until the carrots are tender and the onion becomes translucent, 15 to 20 minutes. Add the tomatoes and capers to the roasting pan.

Place roasting pan on the middle rack of the oven and broil for 15 to 20 minutes, stirring every 5 minutes. Tomatoes should start to brown slightly on edges with light caramelization. Remove the pan from the broiler. Place the pan over 2 burners on the stove. Add the white wine to the tomatoes and cook for 2 to 3 more minutes over medium heat.

Put the tomatoes into a deep pot or bowl and add the reduced tomato liquid (minus the bay leaves) to the tomatoes. Blend to desired consistency and adjust seasoning.

Perfect for spaghetti, pizza, or whatever else your twisted little brain can come up with.

Where Dost I Write?

Octamom asked this question, and I think it's an interesting one. It seems that mommy bloggers have a lot to contend with if they want to write. Me, I just sit down and type. Biggest interruption I get is Steven asking me for a cup of coffee. Here's my sanctuary.



Blogging, to me, is therapy. Most of what I write never sees the light of day. My dashboard is a smorgasbord of words, thoughts and ideas, most of which will be deleted. (kinda makes you wonder about my posting process, don't it?)

If I Were on Death Row...

...my last meal would be:

Salmon Patties (made by Mother Dearest)
mac n'cheese* (the fluorescent yellow kind from a box)
and fresh delicious bread. White. From frozen bread dough, best beloved.

Though I'm kind of a food snob, my choices are oddly pre-packaged and predictably comforting.

And for dessert? Um, um Chocolate. Covered. Strawberries.









How bout you? Give me your death row meal, pronto.
---
*I originally typed "man n'cheese." Freudian slip?

I'm Not Preggers!

Steve and I don’t have kids yet, but that doesn’t stop us from talking about what we will and won’t do once we do have them.

For example, we have names picked out (well at least for the first one): Katharine Elisabeth for a girl or Steven Duane III for a boy.

When we first married, Steve liked the name OJ Curtis. Yes folks, that’s Orenthal James Curtis. Also Jamie, but then I discovered he had a former girlfriend named Jamie, so that name went sailing right out the window. I liked Claire, but he is convinced that kids would tease her and call her Éclair. Which is so much worse than OJ, dontchaknow. I like original names, but once the public gets their talons into a name, that’s it. I have a nephew named Kaeden, which I thought was pretty original, but now everybody and their grandma is named Kaeden.

My mom insists that when I was born, there were no other Sarahs around and I was the only Sarah Elisabeth they’d ever heard of. Sure, Mom. That’s why there were three Sarahs in my sixth grade class and two of us were Sarah Elisabeth. And all of us were BFFs, which was occasionally pretty confusing. Now there are three Sarahs at my church, though we are very diverse in age. One works with me in the Kitchen Committee and the other is a student in my Sunday School class. Also pretty confusing.

I want to homeschool, I know that for sure. We both had public school educations and there is no way I’d inflict that on my kids. (Please don’t shoot me if your kids are public school kids. I’m sure your town has better schools than mine did. Actually, I can’t really blame the schools; I had great teachers, I just stayed bored.)

We disagree over whether or not to buy our not-quite-kids cars or to pay for their college education. I think once they’re old enough to have a job (like, say age 11) they should start looking for an apartment.

I tell you all of this to show you this scary glimpse into the future. World, meet Baby Curtis. It's got my dimples and Steven's eyebrows. And is that a beard?! What an adorable creature!

--
What your own devil baby? Click here!

I'm Sick

and I think I've been hallucinating, so I apologize in advance for the potential lack of lucidity in this post. Or in any post. Well, at least the ones I've written. I take no responsibility for what those other folks write.

It all started with a sore throat and now I have no idea what's going on.

Sunday morning on the way to church I saw a truck make a u-turn on the expressway and come barreling towards us going in the wrong direction. Thank God I wasn't driving or we might have been killed. Yeah, the truck didn't exist. I'm not taking any medications or anything, so I'm not sure what's going on in my brain. I taught Sunday School, which seemed to go just fine, I sat through the service without any weirdness, we visited a church member in the hospital*, nothing out of the ordinary.

That afternoon, Steve told me to get some rest while he went to the evening service. I very rarely miss church, so I must be dying or something. Lying in bed, the ceiling started to move like one of those little sliding tile puzzles I used to play with as a kid. I started getting nauseous, so I went to watch some tv to keep myself from falling asleep. (Nightmares, dontchaknow.) Schindler's List. Just the thing to keep bad thoughts at bay. That and Ghost Hunters. Currently available for free on Hulu.

Now my sickyness has settled into a sore/scratchy throat absurd amount of mucus fest. At least I got one day off work!
---
* Please keep a man named Bill in your prayers. He's got Alzheimer's in a pretty advanced stage and doesn't really realize that anything is wrong with him. His wife, Rheta has been strong for him for the last few years but it's really wearing on her now. They've been married for over fifty years and lately he hasn't been recognizing her. Kind of puts my meager problems in perspective.

Look What I Found!

Penzeys! Spices! Fresh ones!

Snooping through their catalog, I happened upon this recipe:

Apple Pancakes
1⁄4 c butter, divided
4 eggs
1⁄4 tsp vanilla
3⁄4 c all-purpose flour
3⁄4 c milk
1⁄2 tsp salt
2 medium baking apples, peeled and thinly sliced
3 tbsp cinnamon sugar, divided

Preheat oven to 400°. Divide butter evenly between two 9-inch pie plates and put them in the oven to melt the butter. Rotate the pie plates until the butter coats the bottom and the sides. To make dividing the ingredients between the two plates easier, we used a 4-Cup measuring cup as our mixing bowl.
Beat eggs, vanilla, flour, milk, and salt on medium speed for 1 minute. Toss the sliced apples with 2 tbsp cinnamon sugar. Arrange 1⁄2 of the apple slices in each pan so they cover the bottom in pretty much a single layer. Pour 1⁄2 the egg mixture over the apple slices in each pan. Sprinkle the remaining cinnamon sugar over the
batter in each pan. Bake until puffed and golden brown, 20-25 minutes. Serve right away, while still puffy, with warm syrup.

These were more French toast-like than pancake-y. Very tasty, though. The only thing I would do differently is grease and flour the pie pans instead of using just butter. These suckers were hard to get to get loose!

Oh, the humanity

Steve and I had a fight this weekend. Okay, not a fight, maybe a tiff. Or maybe just a disagreement.

Okay, so we really can't fight. Things don't really bug me, so I have a hard time getting mad enough to raise my voice, let alone yell at my dearly beloved. And usually, when I try to be mad, I end up making myself laugh, imagining how my "mad face" must look.

So back the the fight. Basically, he thinks I'm a slob and he's right. Ahem. I am very creative in a multitude of ways. I'm doing an Aunt Sarah project, I cook, I scrapbook, I teach Sunday School. I have things strewn all over the house, food flying through the air, books lying all around.

Steven, on the other hand, is very neat and orderly. Things are put back where they belong. He's usually pretty good about cleaning up after me, but occasionally gets frustrated. Like when he picks up the same hair scrunchie eight different times in the same day.

So we discussed. And we resolved.

Let it be known that during the disagreement dated March 21st, 2009 at 2:30-ish in the afternoon, Steven did solemnly swear that he would be the keeper of the kitchen cleaning supplies and would henceforth scrub, wash, and otherwise toil in whatever means are necessary to keep his loving wife from having to do dishes upon her return home from work. Herein fail not under penalty of much nagging.

Oh, and I'll attempt to clean up after myself from time to time. Maybe.

Regarding the picture (stolen from Wikipedia, by the way) it's a spat! Get it?!

Love on a Plate

Since I am B-ing my own B, I found this lovely recipe for Hamburger Buns. I was a little worried about the texture, since (in my own humble opinion) one of the wonderful things about homemade bread is the chewy yumminess, and commercial hamburger buns are generally softer and less flavorful (presumably to showcase the meat and fixins). These did not disappoint. The flavor was good and the smell while they were baking was hard to resist. They were a little crumbly, though, when weighted down with all the extras, so I think next time I'll substitute some bread flour for some of the all-purpose flour. All in all a good recipe.

ingredients:
2 cups warm milk (110 degrees F/45
degrees C)
1/4 cup margarine, melted
1/4 cup warm water
1/4 cup white sugar
2 (.25 ounce) packages instant yeast (I used bread machine yeast)
2 teaspoons salt
6 cups all-purpose flour, or as needed
Directions:
Preheat the oven to 375 degrees. In a large bowl, stir together the milk, margarine, warm water, sugar and yeast. Let stand for about 5 minutes. Mix in the salt, and gradually stir in the flour until you have a soft dough. Divide into 12-14 pieces, and form into balls. Place on baking sheets so they are 2 to 3 inches apart. Let rise for 20 minutes. Bake the rolls for 15 minutes in the preheated oven. Cool slightly, then split them in half horizontally to fill with your favorite burgers.

If you're really hungry, try these with some homemade French fries.
(Caution: this is my "recipe" so there really isn't a recipe. Just fling things around the kitchen and hopefully some of it will land on your plate.)
2 or 3 potatoes
salt
water
vegetable oil (or some other oil with a high smoke point, like peanut)

Retrieve potatoes and skin them with very dangerous knife.



Prepare a bowl with lukewarm water and salt. I would say a handful of salt but some of you have giant Sasquatch hands and some have little pixie hands so use one of mine. I'll guess about three tablespoons. Mix it around so you don't have any salt-lumps. Cut potatoes (counting fingers before and after cutting for safety) into desired fry-shaped sticks and put into salt water for about 20 minutes.



Meanwhile, heat the oil in a nice big pot. I like a Dutch oven, but you can use whatever your heart desires, best beloved. As long as it's metal. And heat proof. And big enough to hold all the potatoes. You may not have a nifty heat monitoring device like mine, but that's okay. We can't all be spoiled. See the red dot? See it?



When it's time for cooking, drain the potatoes and dry them thoroughly to avoid unnecessary oil turbulence. Yes, that is an AC Delco towel, and I'm not sorry.


Fry, fry til your heart's content. Or until golden brown and delicious. Um, that's the potatoes, not your heart. Remove the fries with a spider or a fork or whatever's handy and then devour in mass quantities.



This is love, best beloved.