it's final

check www.thenolafiles.com 

there will be no more writing here. :-)

happy memorial day.

~c

I'm not dead, just floating.

Do you know that Pink song?  It's from the last album, not the newest one.   Anyways...the nola files is not dead, just floating.

The blog software I was originally using is not living up to my expectations.  It's not even meeting the bare minimum.  I'm working on switching over WordPress.

We should be back up in a couple weeks.  Hold tight.

Have a great weekend.

Christy

Hallelujah! It's done.

http://www.thenolafiles.com

there are no words for my excitement. :-)

we are finally relocating.  thanks for your patience and all the support through the transition. 

I'll be posting links to the new posts at nolafiles.com here for awhile until everyone has rejoined us.

see ya'll on the other side! :-)

~christy

Waiting Waiting Waiting

7 days to go before we can officially move to the new site.  Are you counting too?

I can't wait! 

Have a good week/weekend.  

I'll see you in 7 days, unless something absolutely amazing comes across my path between now and then, and I can't wait to share it.  

Hold tight, we're almost there :-)

Christy

Art vs. Science

Cooking is an art; baking is a science. Are you familiar with this truism?

For the past two weeks I have been attempting to bake bread. Of all things--bread; sans bread machine. I have never in my life attempted to make bread. Sure... I've made a banana bread here and there. Quick breads are nothing more than a giant muffin if you think about it. I can handle muffins. Six year old girls can handle muffins; Easy Bake Ovens make sure of that. But the bread I attempted, foolishly with no training (pastry school drop out), was not a quick bread. It was a yeast bread. The mother of all yeast breads in my book: po'boy bread. Not quite a French baguette, not quite a loaf of sandwich bread. The inside texture is expected to be light, airy, almost non-exsistent. The outside crunchy, chewy, and golden brown. Mine was none of the above.

Did I expect it to be perfect on the first try? Not really. I was hopeful, of course, but not cocky (which is rare in the kitchen). I did, however, expect it to be edible.

My first loaf was possibly the biggest insult to po'boy bread ever created by a native. It was ugly and overly salted. It was incredibly dense, almost biscuit like, but not in any way light and fluffy. Maybe the abandoned love child of a brick and a sponge would be a better comparison? The recipe I used was vegan, which should have been a red flag right there, but I carried on. Flour, salt, yeast, water...those all sounded like perfectly logical things to include in a French Bread recipe...what else could you need? Well, obviously something else, although I have yet to figure out what. It didn't even SMELL like bread while it was baking. That's a sure sign of a mis-step. It went from baking sheet to trash in 60 seconds, still so hot it melted right through the garbage bag (a fact that didn't come to light until the following day when the trash was to be taken out). A word of advice: never try to conceal the evidence of a baking experiment gone awry in a plastic garbage bag if said evidence is still 4000 degrees and fresh from the oven.

Attempt two was no more successful, nor was three or four. I have wasted to date a bag and a half of flour, numerous pinches of salt, and have laid oh so many unsuspecting yeast organisms to rest only to come up empty handed on the bread front. I am doing extremely well on bread-shaped doorstops however, if you know anyone who is interested.

Cooking is an art; baking is a science. Cooking is an art; baking is a science.

I am not a scientist. I do not enjoy the precise measuring of ingredients, or making sure this is exactly that temperature before adding those. Where's the fun in that? I much more enjoy tossing things together in a haphazard flurry of inspiration, sort of like Pollock. Yes, if cooking is an art, then the chef is an artist, and in such scenario I would be Jackson Pollock. Chaotic, controlled, genius. (I have some nerve don't I? lol). This is probably why my french bread resembled one of those loaves you can pick up in the children's toy section: the only portion of the bread baking process I enjoyed was the kneading and was not eager to quit once I was going. It was the only ACTION of the whole act. Bread making, for those who don't know, goes a little something like this: Stir; wait. wait. wait. Mix; wait, wait, wait. Knead; wait, wait, wait. Punch; wait. wait. wait. Form; wait, wait, wait. Bake; and then in my case: dump. You'll notice one word repeats itself numerous times in this whole deal: wait. One of my least favorite words on this planet.

Wait. Ugh. WHY? I have no patience when it comes to food. I want it now. It's ironic that I am a member of the Slow Food Movement isn't it?

To cut this long ramble short, today's post was intended to be Po'boy bread. The give-Leidenheimer-a -run-for-his-money type bread that would make your friends stand in awe of your baking prowess. However, cooking is an art, baking is a science and I have yet to develop the patience to get it right. So what I have for you is, well, probably going to be a little disappointing for a number a reasons. One, it isn't bread of any kind. Two, it's not typically New Orleans. 3.) It's a salad. and 4.) It involves shaving vegetables, which is just as time consuming as baking bread ( to me, but it's action oriented and that makes it better somehow). It's a carrot salad.

Julienned carrots dressed in a simple vinaigrette is one of my favorite French dishes. It doesn't involve a complicated sauce, ham or butter. There is no kneading or waiting involved. You don't even really need patience, knife skills, or that much time if you pick up one of those bags of pre-shredded carrots at the market. It's fresh, crunchy, and figure friendly...not what one typically thinks of when you say French food. It's just what you need when you've gotten completely frustrated that lump of dough sitting on your counter defying you to turn it into something edible.

Shaved Carrot Salad

2 or 3 carrots, peeled and shaved or julienned
3 tablespoons red wine vinegar
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
1 tablespoons Creole mustard
Maldon salt or Fleur de Sel and fresh cracked black pepper to taste

Combine all ingredients in a bowl and enjoy.

This technically will serve about 4 if you are serving it as a side dish, unless I get to it first, in which case it serves only me.

Enjoy
christy

Foodie Find of the Week: Strawberry Lager

I don't have a lot of time to post this week, but I didn't want to leave you empty handed. Abita Strawberry Harvest Lager is back! This year's batch is the strawberriest yet (is that a word?, probably not). It's crafted from the first strawberries of the Ponchatoula harvest season and is produced in limited quantities by the Abita Brewery. The taste lies somewhere between Frankenberry cereal and cotton candy, although I can't really decide which one. It doesn't matter though, it's delicious. If you have access to it, you should definitely pick up a 6pk or seven. My forecast is that this Harvest is going to sell out faster than usual, leaving procrastinators in the dust empty-handed. You don't want to be one of those people. You want to be one of the ones who picked up a case and is hording bottles upon bottles in your refrigerator to last you through the sell-out period :)

You can read more about Strawberry Harvest here , or here.

have a great weekend!

christy

Foodie Find: A Day Late, A Website, Recipe and Story Short

Friends, I have been so busy plugging away at the new site, trying to get it ready for company that I have not had time to cook or try anything for you this week.

The foodie find this week comes by way of one of my most favorite food writers, the lovely and talented Molly. Orangette has written a book (congratulations!), go get it. You should also check out her blog, it puts this one to shame. ;-)



That's all I have to say. That's all you have to do. You can get it here.

This is probably the only time I will offer you a foodie find that is calorie and fat-free, you should take advantage of it. ;-)

Carry on.


christy

Foodie Finds and Childhood Trauma.

I awoke this morning to the dewy scent of fresh clovers and the crisp, yet mild temperatures reminiscent of spring weather, even though the groundhog predicted six more weeks of winter. He obviously did not factor in Louisiana when forming his hypothesis. It’s 63 as I type this, and barely 10:30, a.m. Tomorrow’s high is expected to be in the mid-to-upper 70’s. Clearly we’ve been left out.

Never the matter though, I’d take this morning’s weather over being included in the 6-week prophecy of doom any day. I’ve never been a fan of winter, and am quite certain I must have been a bear in a past life because once the cold blows in, the only place I want to be is in bed, under mounds of fluffy covers, asleep. I’m pretty sure I could sleep through the entire winter season and not be phased in the least—the only thing I’d feel left out on would be soup, hot chocolate, and possibly Christmas cookies. I could always turn the air conditioning down really low once I emerge, and make up for lost time.

So it’s spring, or at least it seems. The weather here is so fickle, next week we will most likely be bundled up in our overcoats and strangling ourselves with unnecessary scarves. Where was I going with this???

Oh yes. Back to the point. The clovers.

Clovers anywhere else in the country I assume call to mind the Irish, St. Patrick’s Day, maybe a half-hearted attempt at 4-H as a child. In New Orleans, the clovers always show up just in time for the festivities of Carnival Season. Mardi Gras. Fat Tuesday. Parade Time as I called it during childhood, and would exclaim as soon as I saw the dark green little clubs peeking out from the cold, dead grass of winter.

This morning’s grassy perfume and mild sunshine brought to mind all those things I associate with Mardi Gras...high school marching bands, fight songs and alma maters, marching groups dressed in sequined leotards, vendors selling cheap toys and cotton candy from hi-jacked shopping carts, mardi gras balls, gilded floats filled with masked riders and enough beads to circle the globe, but not enough to last through a five mile route, cheap beer, picnics on medians, the clinking sound of doubloons hitting the concrete, Mc Gruff, Moon Pies, and King Cake.

Ah, king cake. Something I never thought I’d write about, more less recommend. If you know me at all, you know that king cake has been the bane of my birthday existence since childhood. It’s not that I don’t enjoy a good king cake, it’s that I never enjoyed king cake as a birthday cake, and since my birthday falls so close to, or occasionally actually on, Mardi Gras, it has reared its ugly unwelcomed head too many times at my birthday parties. All I ever wanted was a chocolate cake with white icing and a few candles. What I got was a giant cinnamon roll, covered with purple, green, and gold sugar, doused with sticky white icing, and then topped with multicolored non-pareils, and one candle suggesting my age. My family insisted on pointing out (in effort to cheer me up and make peace with this non-birthday cake) the fact “everyone is celebrating your birthday” and has even gone so far as to tell me it was “queen’s cake, just for me”. I’ve never been one to buy into much bullshit, and well that just reeks of it. I mostly ate my king cake and went about my business bitterly, always hoping next year Mardi Gras would come earlier and I would get the cake I truly wanted. I even went so far as to waste my candle wish, wishing for a real birthday cake one year.

“Next year I want a real birthday cake…phew”

The following year, my birthday landed on Mardi Gras. I was not pleased. Irony is like karma’s clever sister, and it too is a bitch.

In my thirty years, it has worked in my favor exactly 4 times. Four times out of thirty. Some would say I’m lucky to get king cake as birthday cake. I suspect these are the same people who think I’m lucky to be short because it’s easier to find pants (which it is not).

I decided this year would be the year I make peace with the cake that brings so many excitement and joy every Carnival season and stop giving it the stink-eye. It’s not its fault I rarely got a normal birthday cake. It’s not my fault my birthday is so stupidly placed on the calendar. We’ve been unfairly pitted against each other for years. It’s time to make amends. It’s also time though, for me to push the king cake off on you, as my birthday is rapidly approaching (this year will be 5, 5 times ah-ah -ah)but, won’t be here in time for king cake. Damn, and I was so ready to make progress! ;-)

So… you have my birthday king cake from last year now and catch up, and I will have the 5^th normal birthday cake I’ve had in, count them, 31 years on March 3.

This week’s Foodie Find awaits you here. This is the original, the one and only, pain (pun intended) of my existence. It’s also, and I say this begrudgingly, the best one in town. Moist, spicy, sweet, with a slight crunch from all the colored sugar and non-pareils. Get it now, before it’s gone.

Happy Mardi Gras :)

~christy

*pain is the French word for bread and is actually pronounced pahn or pan. For the sake of this essay, and my clever sentence…I’m using the meaning of the French (bread), with the pronunciation of the American (payn). Does that make it Franco-American? I always did like Spaghettio’s.

Lady in Waiting

It's been awhile hasn't it? In a perfect world, we'd be in our new home by now. Painting the walls a more pleasing hue and hanging art. Putting away dishes and planting an herb garden. Sadly, or more accurately--frustratingly, that is not the case. Is it?

If I have learned anything in the past three years with the money pit also known as my house, it's that Murphy's Law will find it's way into every project, even the smallest, seemingly simple ones. Our move is no exception.

I'm having technical difficulties to say the very least, and with no clear instruction manual from either iLife 09 or the web hosting provider, I am not sure when the new site will be up and running. It's been a two week game of trial and error. Mostly error. DNS error to be exact.

So guess what? We're squatting here until the new place is ready. You can check here for the regularly scheduled posts until we are settled into the new digs. Hopefully, we'll be out before the authorities bust us.

Happy Tuesday
christy

A Moveable Feast

The day has come.

Do you remember the day I said wasn't going to come without fire and brimstone? Without a court-ordered forbiddance? The day that wasn't going to end with me backing down to some overzealous housewife with nothing better to do than unnecessarily harrass a 6-month-old BLOG (!) out of fear that it will somehow jeopardize the mom-and-pop business she's running out of her garage...that day? That day has arrived. Some things are worth fighting for...love, life, possibly a pair of vegan boots marked down 70%, but not blog names or internet domains.

I have grown incredibly tired of the daily soap-opera induced drama and the delusional ego trip of a woman with no legal claim to the words in question, and I'm ready for it to end. I surrender.

All of this negative energy is having a nasty effect on my kitchen and my mood. This used to be a sunny, happy place where we could come and discuss cake, and soup, and little gay men named Papi who infected us with the nastiest flu known to man. Now it is covered with the dark clouds of Dallas* and her self-importance. It's so gloomy and oppressive around here that I find myself lately not even wanting to write or cook, and that's the last the straw. A few bad dishes, okay, perhaps I was distracted. A funky mood, nothing a little wine can't cure. But, no desire to write? Take out food again? Call the waiter and get the check, because we are done here.

I'm going to a friendlier, thoroughly copyrighted, and Dallas*-free atmosphere where we shall continue our discussions on cake, soup, and little men named Papi and dare anyone to threaten the peaceful existence of this blog again. Won't you come along? There's cake waiting :-)

I have decided to keep this site alive, but inactive, in case you ever need anything on it or want to stroll down memory lane.

See you soon :-)

~christy

*names have been changed to protect the ignorant.

Check back to this post in a couple days for a link to our new home, and that cake recipe.

The Fine Print:

**A Moveable Feast is a book by Ernest Hemingway. It's pretty awesome. You should check it out.

***image borrowed from www.herohill.com

**** it should be noted that I in no way oppose housewives, mom-and-pop businesses, or running a business from your garage.

Days Off

Guys, I'm taking this week off. I will be back next week ;-)
Until then you can check out the apple cake on Orangette, or double chocolate cookies over on The Wednesday Chef. 101 Cookbooks always has something delicious cooking in the kitchen, and Tea and Cookies is beautifully written. You can find links to these lovely ladies in the Recommended Reading section. Enjoy, and I will meet you back here next week.

Have a great weekend!
~c

Caldo Verde

I don't really have a story for you with this one.  It's just a really good soup that I wanted to share with you. I had a bunch of kale that was growing extremely tired of living in the fridge, so I put it out of its misery.  I was reminded of this recipe while searching for a copy of the Islenos Cookbook (which everyone I know seems have, but cannot recall where it was purchased). Caldo Verde is a Portuguese soup based around greens and potatoes.  Sometimes chorizo is added but it isn't entirely necessary, and considering my attempt at a vegan version turned out to be completely inedible, I left it out this time. 

Some notes:  Tuscan kale is sometimes sold under the name Dinosaur Kale or Lacinato Kale. Chiffonading the kale is essential to the texture and appearance this soup.  A chiffonade is essentially a really fine julienne, basically you want your kale to look shredded.  Yukon Gold are the potatoes  I use, any type of firm, baking potato would be good.  Cajun Blackening Seasoning blend can be found at most supermarkets and online.  Powdered Bay Leaf is easily made by placing dried whole bay leaves into a spice or coffee grinder and processing until a powder is reached.  It takes all of 10 seconds.  If you like your soup a little thinner, add more water and adjust the seasoning accordingly.  I like my soup a little thicker, so I tend to evaporate a lot of the water out.  

Caldo Verde:

1 bunch Tuscan Kale, stems removed, washed and dried

2 lbs. baby Yukon Gold Potatoes, peeled, rinsed and finely diced

1 large yellow onion, finely chopped

4 cloves garlic, grated

1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil

1 teaspoon vegan Worcestershire sauce

1 teaspoon Louisiana Hot Sauce

2 tablespoons Cajun Blackening Seasoning blend

 1 teaspoon powdered bay leaf (use a spice grinder)

8 cups water

salt and fresh black pepper to taste

Heat olive oil in a large Dutch oven over medium-high heat.  Add onions, salt and peper.  Saute until transparent, about 8 minutes, stirring occasionally.  Add garlic and saute another 5 minutes.  Add potatoes, stirring to mix well, and cook for 5 minutes.  Add kale, stirring to mix well, and cook for 8 minutes. 

Add water, stirring to mix well.  Raise heat to high and bring to a rolling boil.  Boil, uncovered, for 20 minutes.  Reduce heat to medium, allow soup to come to a simmer, stirring occasionally. Add Worcestershire sauce, hot sauce, powdered bay, blackening seasoning.  Season to taste with salt and pepper.  Cover and cook for another 10 minutes, stirring occasionally.   Taste and correct seasoning.  Serve hot, drizzled with additional olive oil if desired. 

Serves 4-6

Another Trademark

Lateness.  It seems these days, wherever I am going--whether it be to work, to a meeting, to work out, or even to shower, I am late, by at least 5 to 10 minutes depending on who's  watch you are looking at.  One of my resolutions for this new year is to show up to more things on time, and here I am, Thursday night...still no recipe posted.  

It's not that I don't have one.  I do.  It's not that it turned out poorly.  It didn't.  It was actually part of one of the best meals I've had in a while.  It's that, well,  I have writer's block.  The fact that I am writing about having writer's block should have been a dead giveaway right?

At any rate, I have been attempting this post since Monday night.  Monday! Night!  It's Thursday people.  Thursday.  Night.    I have been diligently plugging away at the Cheftionary I promised you a couple weeks ago, which is a huge project in and of itself.  The Printer Friendly Recipe Index is also in production and waiting in the wings--another project of mammoth proportions.  To top it off, it has been brought to my attention that there is a cooking school in the US named, le cordon vert, which while it doesn't seem to be copyrighted or trademarked, it is causing me grief and we may be relocating to a more courtroom-friendly domain, which means all of my work on the Cheftionary and Printer-Friendly Index, to this point, has been in vain.  So I'm less than inspired to write today.  

Don't you fret about any of that though, I'm not going down without a fight and proof of a copyright/trademark; possibly even a court ordered cease. I will keep you posted on the possibility of relocation as it becomes necessary.  Another home is already being scouted.  

Phew.  I'm so glad to get that off of my plate.  Now we can put some food on it, yes?  Great :-)

Nothing fancy this week, just back to basics I guess.  A cold snap has blown through the South making it just cold enough to be uncomfortable and require the disgustingly dry air of the heater.  The only good thing I find about cold weather--or colder weather I should say, most northern states would consider our cold snap to be spring-like but I digress...the best thing about cold weather for me is soup.  Have I ever told you about my love affair with soup?  No.  Well, maybe some other time...right now we have to get down to business, and what we have today technically isn't so much a soup as it is something that could be soup if you add extra water.  Okra, Corn and Tomatoes. 

I have a tiny confession:  I had this dish with Grilled Blackened Shrimp.  I know, I know.  Shrimp are friends too.  But they taste sooo good. LOL.  I decided not to post the shrimp recipe out of respect for the vegetarian/vegan readers out there.  Hopefully this will ease your  minds slightly:  they were wild caught and locally sourced, and incidentally quite large, which leads me to believe they had a full life, made a bad decision, and ended up on my plate.  Survival of the fittest.  These were not the fittest of the species.  They were the tastiest though.  Sorry, I couldn't help it. ;-)  Also on the menu this evening was: Imported from New Orleans French Bread with lots of Delitia butter, an updated Wop Salad, Brown Sugar Creole Cream Cheese Evangeline and first of the season Louisiana Strawberries (that turned out not to need any adornment whatsoever) and icy cold Abita Purple Haze.  It was eyes-to-the-back-of-the-head good.

For the Vegetarian portion of this post, I recommend using a cast iron Dutch oven.  I love my Le Creuset, but use whatever you have available.   I used frozen sliced okra, but if you have fresh, go for it, it's even better.  A word of caution regarding Rotel tomatoes.  They're canned with chiles, and as a result are very spicy.  I would suggest trying the mild version first, as they are still quite hot despite the misleading nomenclature.  The Original variety are the ones I used and are the hottest ones I can handle, and I love spicy food.  

Okra, Corn, and Tomatoes:

2 tablespoons unsalted butter

2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

2 green bell peppers, chopped

1 large yellow onion, chopped

4 cloves garlic, peeled and grated

2 cups sliced okra pods, fresh or frozen

1 (1ooz) can Rotel tomatoes

1 (28oz) can diced tomatoes

1 teaspoon vegan worcestershire sauce

  salt and pepper to taste

dash of hot sauce

Melt butter and olive oil in a large Dutch oven over medium heat.  Add onions and saute until soft and translucent, about 5 minutes.  Add bell pepper and garlic; continue sauteing until onions are light golden brown and bell pepper is softened.   Add okra and cook about 15 minutes.  Add Rotel and diced tomatoes, raise heat to high and bring to a boil, stirring occasionally.  Lower heat to bring to a simmer and cover.  Cook covered for 25 minutes, stirring occasionally.  Add Worcestershire sauce, hot sauce and salt and pepper to taste. Simmer, uncovered, for 8 to 10 minutes.   Correct seasoning and serve hot. 

This may be served as is, over rice, or thinned down to a soup consistency.  

Serves about 8. 

Foodie Find of the Week: Speechless

Do you remember last week when I was whining about those hazelnut creme wafers that so rudely deposited dust and disappointment all over me?  Do you also remember me saying that I wish just once I could come here on Foodie Find Day and say "have I got one for you this week!" without my trademark sarcasm?  Well guess what.  It's that week. 

HAVE I GOT ONE FOR YOU THIS WEEK!  But alas, it has rendered me speechless. It is hands down the best butter I have EVER had.  Ever.  Ever in life, it is the best, and I defy you to prove me wrong or disagree.  You will not find a better butter. 

Do you remember that episode of Will and Grace where Grace is going on a date and Will cautions her not to eat the butter without bread...as in eating just a chunk of butter?  I was completely disgusted at the thought.  As I was at that new popcorn commercial where the father is caught by his family with a unwrapped stick of butter hovering over it about to take a bite.  I know better now, and fully understand where these two seemingly misguided souls are coming from. They must have THIS butter.  

I will have you know ( just because I'm sure you are wondering if I just bit a chunk off) that I resisted the urge to eat it straight from the package.  I used bread.  I'm a lady, dammit. 

I try so hard not to use "strong" language here, as I removed the "Adult Content" warning in effort to clean up my potty mouth, but....F*ck what you heard.  Delitia Parmigiano-Reggiano Butter is the BEST butter around. Plugra? Lurpak? Please.  They can't even hold a candle to this stuff. 

I'm not even going to attempt to describe it.  You have to experience this one for yourself.   I will admit it's a little pricey, but you get a decent amount of butter for the seven dollars you have to trade for it.  Seven dollars for butter?  Surely, I made a mistake, right?  In these hard economic times, I couldn't possibly be suggesting that you go out and pick up seven dollar BUTTER?!  

Friends, I'm afraid I am, and I'm doing so unapologetically.  Don't you deserve a treat for all that penny-pinching, recycling, and general do-gooding you've been doing?  I think you do, and I think this it.  Actually, I know this it.  I found it at our favorite store to blow an entire week's salary--Whole Foods. 

Go get some and try like hell not to eat it with a spoon.

Enjoy

~c

Christening

By now you know that I have taken ill with the elusive, evil Papi Flu. But you may be asking yourself: what is this Papi Flu and how can I avoid it? Well, you're in luck. Your answer lies within this story (score!), and the cure lies within the bowl to follow. Double score!

Picture it: New Orleans, 2008. Just kidding. But seriously, our story begins in New Orleans, New Year’s Eve night, 2008. Your dancing queen fled the confines of Baton Rouge to the glitter-covered land known as Oz with her favorite Kra(+e)mer to kiss 2008 good-bye. A land where balloons fall from the ceiling, drag queens tower 7 feet tall, hefty black (wo)men belt out “It’s Raining Men” like nobody’s business, and where the gin and tonics flow like a glowing blue fountain surrounded by the half-naked, perfectly-chiseled bodies of Greek gods. It was a beautiful thing. Until we met Papi. Ahh, papi. 

Have you met Papi? No? Good, keep it that way. This little Puerto Rican fireball wields free shots of Patron (3 to be exact) and a nasty, nasty flu. How does he get you? "Taste my drink". "Okay", you think, in the haze of 12 gin and tonics and under the presumption that alcohol kills 99.9% of all bacteria. Grey Goose l’Orange and Red Bull, while a little girly for me to order personally, turned out to be quite tasty, by the way. One sip, from the side of the cup, not through his straw. Infected with all the symptoms of a Nyquil commercial: stuffy head, check. Fever, check. Achy, grouchy, cursing Papi and his girly cocktail, check, check, and check. And so it has been since Thursday morning, where I awoke so thirsty it seemed a refreshing and perfectly logical idea to drink water, from a mug, in the shower, using shower water. Don’t judge me.

So what’s the cure for this mess: chick-n noodle soup of course, which is perfect because even though I’ve been sick as hell, I’ve also been itching to use my new Slate Le Creuset Dutch Oven. And so, I have been healed, and my pot has been christened. And yes, I have thoroughly learned my lesson.  Adios, Papi.

Chick-n Noodle Soup

Serves about 6

2 boxes No Chicken Broth, or vegetable broth
1 large cipiollini onion, chopped
1 cup baby carrots, sliced
2 ribs celery, chopped
2 cloves garlic, grated
4 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
1 teaspoon garlic-herb seasoning blend
1 teaspoon Chicken Grill Seasoning, Mrs. Dash
½ teaspoon Tony Chachere’s Creole Seasoning Blend
1 bag Quorn chick-n tenders
1 cup dried egg noodles, or pasta of your choice
salt and pepper to taste

Heat olive oil in a large Dutch oven and brown chickn pieces with seasonings. Add vegetables and sauté for about 5 minutes, until soft. Add stock and bring to a boil over medium heat. Continue boiling for 10 minutes. Add pasta and continue to boil another 10 minutes. Taste and correct for salt and pepper.  Serve immediately.

~c

Foodie Find of the Week: Manners

Have I got one for you this week! Wouldn’t you love to hear me say that one day? I sure would like to write it, but this is not that week. My apologies in advance.

I had every intention of gushing over the Parmigiano-Reggiano BUTTER I spotted at Whole Foods the other day.(oh yes, you read it correctly Parmigiano-Reggiano BUTTER, as in made from the leftover milk of Parm cheese) Unfortunately for me, and you, I contracted the Papi Flu down in Nola while I was over the rainbow New Years Eve (more on that later) and it is not in my best interest to ingest dairy right now…not even the best, most selective dairy on the planet ;-) The butter will have to wait until next week. I suspect it will be worth it.

My replacement for the guaranteed heaven that was to be, turned out to be utterly disappointing. Have to you been introduced to these shameful cookies? Manner Hazelnut Crème Wafers, meet everyone. Everyone meet the Manner wafers.

Perhaps it was because I was not-so-secretly longing for the creamy deliciousness that awaits me in the dairy drawer of my refrigerator when I tested these, or even that the fight for the Foodie Find this week was unfairly posed, but the outcome has been terribly disappointing. Parmigiano-Reggiano Butter vs. Manner Hazelnut Cream Wafers. It’s like pitting a perfectly ripened mango against out-of-season, pale –pink, should’ve been left at the market tomatoes. Completely unfair. On one hand you have the mango: juicy, exotic, simultaneously creamy and clean, and just sweet enough. Perfection in fruit, if you will. On the other you have lifeless, bland, practically colorless, grainy tomatoes. Disappointment on a plate. That’s the equivalent of what I’m working with here: only replace the mangoes with the parm butter, and the lifeless tomatoes with the cream wafers. And you get the picture perfectly.

In their defense, after the first three or four, the flavor improves and the initial yuck-factor diminishes. This could possibly be because after two your tongue is completely coated in so much cloying sweetness as to not allow you to taste anything but sugar. Seriously, and I say this as nicely as possible, if there were such a thing as a place for misbehaving Nutella to be sent, like Nutella prison, this would be it.

My experience went a little like this: hmm…interesting packaging, feels like a brick. Hmm, opening packaging lends itself to a “Willie Wonka Golden Ticket” musical montage…peel back the little red ribbon and the odd coral-colored wrapper gives way to shiny silver foil, revealing the wafers. Cue the music and glamour shot of the cookies. Upon first sight, they look like long wafers, but grab one and it breaks mysteriously in half, sending wafer dust in every direction. Okay, irritating, but not that big a deal. Put said cookie into mouth and all disappointing hell breaks loose. The overwhelming plain rice cake flavor of the wafer snuffs out any good that could be done from the nutella-esque cream filling lurking in between. Crumbs are sent everywhere with each bite and the thought comes about that surely “they can’t be that bad”. Another is ingested with the same results, and another, until three are missing and the conclusion has been reached, that: Yes. They Are. That Bad. And how the hell did I get wafer dust on my shoulder?

Stay away! Don’t be lured by their enticing European labels, made in Vienna stamp, or promises of Hazelnut Cream. It’s all hype. The truth is, you’re left with a cookie that will make you rethink the Austrian palate, not to mention their baked goods.

If you are still curious, they only come with a ninety-nine cent price tag (should have been a clue right there!),incidentally are vegan, but “may contain traces of milk solids” (for whatever reason), and were procured at Fresh Market. I strongly advise against it. Spend your dollar at Taco Bell on some of those Fiesta Potatoes, while they may not be vegan, a foodie find, or even acceptable FOOD, they are damn tasty, made right here in America, and have been approved by yours truly.

~c