food

Okay, so it’s not Sunday, or dinner, but I had to share as marinade for grilled shrimp that I discovered last night. I picked it out from AllRecipes.com after seeing that it had over 500 5-star reviews and that most of the reviews involved ALL CAPS and lots of exclamation points!!!!!!

I went in a little suspicious - I mean, it’s marinade, not some miracle drug, but I went ahead and tried it out on our new grill. I wasn’t convinced - the ingredients were really simple and didn’t seem to fit together well. And it didn’t seem to be bad enough for me health-wise or hard enough to make to taste that good.  AND THEN BEN AND I ATE THE SHRIMP AND TALKED ABOUT HOW GOOD IT WAS IN ALL CAPS FOR THE REST OF THE EVENING. IT IS THAT GOOD!!!!! AND I HATE EXCLAMATION POINTS, EXCEPT WHEN I REALLY MEAN IT!!!!!

Even putting the delectable taste of these shrimp aside for a moment, which is hard for me to do even 12 hours later, this recipe has everything going for it: it uses only “kitchen staple” ingredients (with the exception of the shrimp). It does not involve a stick of butter or deep-fried batter, like many other shrimp recipes I’ve test driven.  It cooks in six minutes. It makes you look like a  celebrity chef to anyone you have over for dinner.

In any case, without further ado, here’s the link: Marinted Grilled Shrimp.

A few notes:

1. If you want the shrimp spicy, double the cayenne pepper. As it is, the pepper only gives the shrimp a little heat.

2. If you’re using wooden skewers, soak them first.

3. Don’t marinate the shrimp for longer than an hour - the vinegar will start breaking down the meat.

I once again apologize for the absence of picture or many links - things will get better when the cable guys bring the magic of the internet into our home on Monday.

Go forth and grill shrimp!

We have successfully moved into our new home. It’s in the South Hills area of Missoula, Montana, which is about ten minutes from downtown and on the edge of town (and obviously in the hills). More importantly, the house has a front and back yard, a patio, a fire pit, a basketball hoop, and a dishwasher. Even more importantly than that, it has three bedrooms, which means that Ben and I each have our own office now. Oh - and there are closets! Seven of them! As compared to the zero closets we had in our New York apartment!

We’ve spent the last two days buying furniture and putting furniture together (note that Target seems to have the clearest directions of anywhere and the least likelihood of missing parts). We’ve also spent the last two days constantly grilling things (for example, tonight we had salmon, bell pepper, and pineapple skewers on a bed of brown rice). In the evenings, after our one-on-one basketball games, we gather round the fire pit and say things like, “I can’t believe we’re here!” and “Look! Remember stars!” and “This is so much better than the city!’ and “I can’t believe you made that jump shot!” I wonder if it will wear off.

Ripley is now an outdoor cat again, which she loves. She has a kitty door that she learned to use after Ben showed her how just once. I know it’s a little more dangerous to let her outside, but I really do think that it improves the quality of her everyday life so much that it is worth the added risk. Plus, it is just adorable to watch her roll around in the grass. Outdoor Rippy pictures will follow in the coming days.  I’ll also post a few pictures of the house once we’re a bit more set up - like the panoramic view of the mountains you can see from the toilet.

I should also mention that our internet connection for the next week - a connection we are temporarily stealing from the neighbors until the cable guys come - ranges from “poor” to “piss poor.” All internet activities will be spotty until next Monday, but I’m trying hard to post once a weekday.

There’s so much more Montana culture to catch you up on - in the coming days I’ll write about our time playing in the river, our glorious return to our favorite bar, Flippers, our experience at the infamous Testicle Festival, and… pain.

I haven’t posted many recipes lately, mostly because I haven’t been making anything new. But today was bright and summery and my new summer copy of Eating Well came in the mail.

I just started my subscription to this magazine, and I have to say I’m in love. It’s the Middle Road of eating healthy - lots of quality ingredients and lots of whole grains, but at the same time, they’re not afraid of having an entire feature this month on types of awesome burgers (the cheddar bison burgers on whole wheat rolls that Ben made for us yesterday were delicious). They include the nutritional information but don’t go out of their way to ban “bad” ingredients from their recipes - they’re more for using small amounts. They’re also into eating green, which I like - last month they had a big spread on where and how you should buy salmon.

In any case, the weather had me wanting to make something fresh and different and Eating Well had a stupendous feature call, simply, Shrimp Fest! . I tried out their beer battered New England fried shrimp, which, although fried, involves 100% whole wheat flour and only two(!) tablespoons of oil. I thought it might be too good to be true, but really it’s just too good.

• A cup of pale ale or other light-colored beer (I used Sam Adams Summer Ale)
• A cup of 100% whole wheat flour
• 1 teaspoon Dijon mustard (sounds weird, tastes great)
• 1/2 teaspoon of salt
• 1 pound large or extra large shrimp, peeled and de-veined, but with the tails on
• 2 tablespoons of canola oil

Mix the beer, flour, mustard, and salt. Whisk until smooth. (Note: you have to do this in two batches, so you have to repeat these next steps twice) Put half of the oil in a skillet on medium-high heat. Hold each shrimp from the tail and dip into the batter, knocking off the excess on the side of the bowl. Add each shrimp to the skillet, making sure they aren’t touching. Cook for about 2 minutes on each side, until curled, firm, and golden brown. Transfer to a platter, add pepper, wipe the skillet clean, and get to work on your second batch. If you’re just cooking for two, halving the recipe makes a perfect amount of food.

I served my shrimp with baby red potatoes and green beans tossed in rosemary and extra virgin olive oil. And a Sam Adams Summer Ale. I was going to take a picture, but we, uh, ate all the shrimp without breathing in between bites. Take my word for it, though: they are pretty. And delicious.

Can’t I, for once, get away with doing something embarrassing without getting caught for it? Is it a law, written in stone, that one cannot do stupid things without running into someone who will point it out, or, in my case, an entire group of people?

Here’s the deal:

I don’t eat too many dessert-type things these days. Even when I do, it’s usually in the form of a sugar-free low-fat pudding cup or a Kashi while grain oatmeal raisin excuse-for-a-cookie. Mostly, I am totally lame and increasingly old and increasingly responsible that way.

However, every once in a while, a feeling in me builds for a no-holds-barred out-of-control ice cream sundae. Something monumental. Something breathtaking.

One of these days was Sunday night. It had been kind of warm for the first time since spring began and while I was finishing up my work for the day, I heard the alluring sounds of the neighborhood ice cream truck that had been silent since September. I had an ice cream need.

By the time I had roused Ben to my cause the truck had left, so we made our way the short two blocks to the local Carvel. Once there, I ordered what turned out to be the biggest sundae the world has ever known. It was easily eight inches high, with the cherry perilously perched on top of the whole production as if the whipped cream around were high-altitude clouds - as if it should be pitching a flag.

The thing was huge. The thing was enormous. I had to carry it like a science project.

On the other hand, while my ice cream turned out to be much larger than we had imagined, Ben’s choice turned out to be much smaller than he wanted - his ice cream looked like it belonged in a doll house. Together — little me with my huge ice cream and huge Ben with his little ice cream — we headed home.

Then, though - then! - with only two blocks to hurry home - two! - we ran into some friends. And we never, ever run into friends in Queens. They seemed excited to see us, and I was mortified. There was Ben, looking overly fit and healthy with his child’s size scoop pinched between two fingers, and me looking like a glutton. I didn’t know what to do, so I did what naked people do in the movies: I took my tiny hand and tried to cover as much of the sundae as I could, which wasn’t much at all. It was a sad effort.

Then someone pointed it out and I laughed it off.

Then someone pointed out how small Ben’s ice cream selection was in relation to mine and I laughed it off.

Then we hurried home and I ate the whole thing, as if I were destroying the evidence.

The point, though, is that I can’t ever seem to do anything embarrassing without someone else finding out about. Just once, can’t I fall down without someone being there to see? Just once, can’t I eat an enormous dessert in peace? Perhaps while crying a little?

During the week when I’m trying to write while my neighbors practice their trombones or whatever, I often turn on the Food Network Channel on low volume to drown out the noise. This week, I was working with Paula Deen on in the background when I saw her slow cook something delicious-looking called Swiss steaks. I’d never really heard of the dish, but my copy of Joy of Cooking also had their own version. I looked up a few more recipes online and came up with my own version.

It’s great to throw together Sunday afternoon and then eat Sunday night - and it’s tender enough to eat without a knife. Ready?

• 1 to 2 pounds of beef round, cut into portion sizes (some people like to use tenderized meat, but you don’t have to, especially since it’s going in the slow cooker, which makes everything tender)
• 1/2 cup of flour
• 1/4 cup vegetable oil
• 1/2 cup of celery, chopped into tiny pieces
• 1 medium onion, chopped
• 2 carrots, sliced or shredded
• 1 bell pepper, cut into strips
• garlic, to taste
• salt and pepper to taste
• 1 14.5-ounce can of diced tomatoes
• 1/2 cup of beer
• whichever spices you have on hand of the following: thyme, oregano, basil, parsley

1. sprinkle the beef with flour, salt, and pepper. Heat the oil in a large skillet and brown the meat, a few minutes on each side. You don’t want to cook the meat all the way through, just to cook the flour on the outside, which will keep the meat moist (and thicken the sauce later). Place in the slow cooker.

2. on top of the meat, put in all of the chopped veggies and spices. Pour the beer over the top and drink the rest of the can. Cover it and get on with your day, turning it off in 4-6 hours or so.

3. Serve with mashed potatoes or turnips,  green beans, and the rest of the six pack.

I love roasting chickens, but there’s also not much need for an entire roasted chicken with two people in the house. Therefore, I’ve spent the last few weeks perfecting a roasted chicken dish for two that is super-healthy and perfect for a weeknight dinner for two.

The morning before dinner, stick a package (about a pound) of chicken tenderloins (or two chicken breasts) in a Ziploc bag. Add the following and let marinate during the day:

• 2 tablespoons  of extra virign olive oil
• 2 tablespoons of fresh rosemary, chopped
• salt and pepper
• the juice of half of a lemon
• minced garlic (as much as you like)
• any other spices you’d like (such as poultry seasonin)

That night, preheat your oven to 350 degrees. place the chicken in an 8 inch X 8 inch cooking dish or even a deep pie dish. In a separate bowl, mix:

• one large red potato, cut into small cubes
• one or two carrots, sliced
• one small onion
• some finely chopped celery
• the same mixture used to marinate the chicken (see above)

Place the veggies over the chicken and pour about a half-cup of chicken broth into the bottom of the pan (this took me a few times to figure out — without the broth, the chicken dries out). Cover and put in the oven for 30 minutes. Uncover after 30 minutes and cook until done (about 15-30 minutes later). Serve with a salad.

One of Zeno’s Paradoxes regarding time and motion reads that an object can never completely reach its destination. At the point at which the object reaches the halfway point, it still has half way to go. When it reaches its next halfway point, it continues to have half the distance remaining, and so on and so on.

No matter how close the object gets, it will have an increasingly infinitesimal (but still present) distance yet to go. If this were true, no one could ever go anywhere.

Why am I telling you this? Because I went to a dinner party this weekend and noticed a similar problem encountered relating to women’s consumption of communal desserts at dinner parties. We’ll call it Zeno’s Dessert Paradox.

In this model, a small lime pie was purchased and unwrapped after dinner. Four women, all drinking wine, were given forks and napkins and invited to dig in. At first, the pie consumption is normal - with all four participants eating a hearty and equal amount of lime pie. However, when the lime pie supply reaches one piece, consumption slows and the bites become slower and more deliberate.

When there is only one bite of pie left, one of the women will take half a bite and leave half, while also asking the other women if anyone else is interested in the last bite of pie.

When there is a half a bite of pie left, one of the other women will take half of the half, while also mentioning something about eating too much pie and also something about her thighs. And so on and so on.

By the end of the night, there will still be the smallest bite of pie you have ever seen still sitting in the pie plate, sometimes only visible by magnifying glass or sometimes electron microscope.

Then the hostess will say, “Does anyone want the last bite of pie?” and everyone will shake their heads and say, “Oh, no, I couldn’t, I’m stuffed.” Minutes later, someone will say, “I suppose I could take half of what’s left,” and go in with tweezers and reading glasses in order to extract half a crust crumb and a lime filling molecule.

Therefore, it is absolutely impossible for four women at a dinner party to finish a dessert. All four women can go home and assure themselves and their partners that although the company was wonderful and the food was excellent, they were good and couldn’t possibly finish their pie.

Paradoxically, however, four women at a dinner party seem to have no problem whatsoever finishing off several bottles of wine, down to the last drop.