As Tiki Month draws to a close, it seems appropriate to pay homage to the great Tiki cocktail culture. I’m not a mixologist, so no recipes today; instead I’ll share a bit about my two happiest Tiki memories. It beats working on my thesis, right? (Note: I actually really love working on my thesis.)

My experience with Tiki bars goes back nearly as far as I’ve been (legally) visiting bars. Shortly after graduating UCSD, I moved home to San Francisco to attend a summer-long acting (ah…drinking) intensive. My classmates and I quickly discovered the Tonga Room in the basement of the Fairmont Hotel. We learned that timeless Tiki classic had an amazing deal: a super cheap (I think it was $5) all-you-can-eat happy hour buffet. For super cheap young actors, this was a beacon of frugality in the sea of an expensive city. Plus, we were told the menu featured potent, easy to gulp tropical cocktails. And there were intermittent indoor rainstorms. If that’s not a way to draw a party-happy dude of 21 into Tiki drinking culture, I don’t know what is. For the next two years, I spent many happy happy hours at the Tonga Room. And many stupefied Muni rides home.

Years later, I moved to the heart of Tiki culture: Los Angeles. Don the Beachcomber, the first Tiki bar in the continental United States, opened there in 1933. Although there is a chain of knock-off Tiki bars with the same name, the original Don’s is long gone. Luckily for me, I lived an easy stumble from the greatest Tiki bar left in the city, Tiki Ti. The 12 seat bar is located in the nether-region between Los Feliz and Silverlake, right near the PBS studio. It’s tricked out in Tiki paraphernalia, and it’s smoke-filled; Tiki Ti is exempt from the longstanding CA indoor smoke ban because the only people who work there are the owners. Michael Buhen (and his sons) carry on the legacy of Ray Buhen, who opened the bar in 1961 after working for years as one of the original mixologists at Don the Beachcomber. (Read a bio of Ray Buhen.) The drink menu is as large as the bar is small–over 92 (mostly rum-based) tropical drinks. If you’re overwhelmed, ask someone behind the bar; if you’re especially adventurous, ask a regular. Just remember, these drinks are terrifically potent. Pace yourself. Or don’t. Arrive early and be prepared to wait in line. Unlike the silly boom-boom-pow clubs a mile down the road in Hollywood, this place is worth the wait. Really.

So there you go. My little homage to Tiki. Want to hear more thoughts on drinking? Read my column in Pittsburgh City Paper and follow me on Twitter @ThisMansKitchen.

Sick of the bacon-on-everything trend yet? It’s gotten a bit silly, hasn’t it? It can certainly be argued that this trend directly corresponds to the recent general improvement of bacon quality (so many hardwood smoked bacons! take that Oscar Meyer!) in America. However, this trend has also resulted in people thinking it’s a good idea to give bacon lovers remarkably silly bacon-related gifts, and enthusiasts producing improperly made bacon ice creams (protip: a bit of rendered bacon fat in the mix is a good idea, but don’t mix the bacon bits into the ice cream until right before serving). This has cast a shadow of the wonderful world of bacon. Well, overexposure will do that.

But there is hope, my friends. That hope lies in another trendy tidbit of food: the once hated Brussels sprout. Everyone loves a Brussels now (almost). Properly cooked, they’re quite terrific. So why not combine the two, add some complimentary root vegetables, and toss in a maple syrup vinaigrette? I’ve conducted an experiment. Result? Success. Grand success.

Render 1/2 lb. Diced Bacon.
Separate cooked bacon from rendered fat. Save both.

Add to a large bowl:
1lb. Brussels Sprouts, quartered
1/2 lb. Yukon Gold Potatoes, cubed
1/4 lb. Carrots, cubed
1/4 lb. Parsnips, cubed
1-2 Large Shallots, quartered
Add ALL (!!!!) the reserved bacon fat to the bowl, plus salt and pepper. Mix thoroughly.

Transfer to a baking sheet, and roast in a 425F oven for 35-45 minutes. Everything should be nicely browned. Sprouts should be crunchy–not soggy.

For the Maple-Bacon Vinaigrette:
2.5 Tbs. Maple Syrup
2 Tbs. Red Wine Vinegar
1.5 Tbs. Olive Oil
2 Tsp. Dijon Mustard
Pinch Salt and Two Pinches Pepper

Toss roasted vegetables with the vinaigrette and reserved bacon bits. Add salt if necessary.

More beets.

Beet obsession + cold weather + potluck = Borscht. It’s a logical conclusion. But what is this thing they (Eastern Europeans) call borscht? I remember a time in my youth when I met my Grandpa Benji and Uncle Kenny at Yonah Schimmel’s (Lower East Side, Manhattan) for knishes, and was taken aback when I saw them both slurping on a cold, thick, magenta brew topped with sour cream. Gross?

It took some time to come around the idea that this could be something edible. It just looked so strange and horrible. I was wrong. It’s not just edible, it’s delicious. They were sipping on cold borscht. But it’s winter, so I was going to go in the other direction—hot borscht.

Basically, borscht is a hodgepodge soup dish that contains beets and whatever else you have leftover. It’s believed that borscht originated in the Ukraine, but the exact history is undocumented. The wonderful thing about undocumented recipes is that it leaves you a lot of room to play. Just about every cold-weather, beet-eating culture has its own version of borscht, and even those recipes vary from person to person. So embrace the spirt, and make your borscht with whatever you have in your kitchen (plus beets).

Peel and halve 1.5 Pounds Beets
Boil in 8 cups water for 20 minutes.
Remove beets, SAVE the water.

While beets are cooking, add to the beet water:
3 Carrots, cubed
2 Stalks Celery, cubed
2 Apples, cubed
3-4 Yukon Gold Potatoes, cubed
1 Parsnip, cubed
1 Onion, sliced
1 Small Head Cabbage, shredded

Add additional water* to cover.
Add salt, pepper and 1/3 cup Red Wine Vinegar

Once beets are cool enough to touch, slice them into matchsticks and add them back to the pot.

Simmer for one hour.

Finish with 1/4 Cup Chopped Dill.

Top with Sour Cream or Plain Yogurt.

*As written, this recipe is vegan. You can add chicken stock instead of water if you’d like to. You can also make a beefy version of borscht. So much variety. 

I love beets because they taste of Earth and sugar. They are also ridiculously good for you; beets are loaded with antioxidants, they’re anti-inflammatory, they’re high in fiber, and full of minerals.

Beets are easy to prepare: the roots can be roasted, boiled, or steamed. I’ve been working on a steaming/roasting method that produces a tender beet with a concentrated flavor–this is my favorite way to cook a beet. I sometimes serve them with the attached greens, but you can also use the greens separately (roots keep for a few weeks in the fridge, the greens just a few days). You were going to throw the greens away? No no no. Beet greens are versatile, and, just like the beet root, very nutritious.

So look for beets with the greens attached, because you’re getting extra food for (often) the same price per pound. If you have to buy them from a bulk bin, make sure the beet feels firm and doesn’t have any deep blemishes (they don’t have to be beautiful, but if you’re going to store them, you don’t want them to deteriorate).

* Beets are usually peeled after cooking, but with this method it’s easier to do so before. Unless you like your hands stained with beet juice you should wear latex gloves. Also don’t wear any fancy clothes while preparing beets.
* If you can find Meyer lemons, skip the extra sugar and celebrate. They are most wonderful, and I’m jealous my parents have a tree that’s full of them in their back yard. Lucky parents!
*Don’t fear the beeturia: you might experience a…colorful…urination after eating beets. It’s not uncommon. And it’s not blood. Don’t call your doctor friend in the middle of the night and try to figure out what just happened–trust me.

Winter break is a wonderful concept. After weeks of research, writing, research, writing, heavy drinking/regretful hangovers, more research, more–much more–writing, I suddenly had limited responsibilities and and a good excuse to travel. It’s one of the wonders of academia, perhaps designed to force us outdoors so that a wee ray of sunshine will touch our library-pale skin. (Maybe that’s a tad dramatic–one of the other wonders of academia is occasionally having the freedom to take the dog for a walk on an unexpectedly bright late-autumn day.)

  This break was lovely: I packed (most) of my smarty-pants books away for two weeks, spent time ten days in California, and was Best Man at my brother’s wedding. One of my favorite parts of the break was the time I spent cooking dishes I’ve been interested in preparing, but because the previous two months were so hectic, I hadn’t made.  Finally, at long last…ropa vieja.

Ropa vieja (unfortunate translation: old clothes) is made from leftovers. Since I was deliberately making it rather than using what was left in the refrigerator, I cooked a beef soup two days prior as an excuse to have the necessary leftovers. Double bonus…the soup was excellent. I also had leftover salsa from the amazing salsa dude who sells on Saturdays at the Pittsburgh Public Market, a fantastic addition to the dish.

Assembling ropa vieja is simple. Here’s how I made it:

Add, to a medium-hot pan:
1 Tbs. Olive Oil
1 Tbs. Tomato Paste
1 Clove Garlic, minced

1 Small Onion, diced*
2 Tsp. Dried Oregano  

Cook for 2 minutes, stirring frequently.
Add:
2 Cups Shredded Beef
2 Cups Salsa*
1 Cup Pureed Leftover Vegetables*

Cook for 3-5 minutes, add:
1/4 Cup Chopped Cilantro

*You’ll need to use your judgment with this recipe. TASTE the beef first, TASTE the salsa first. Do you need more salt/onion/tomato? Do you want to add any heat to the dish? What do the pureed vegetables add?

I’m not very good at following rules. A combination of creativity, curiosity, and stubbornness (and upper middle class white privilege–there, happy grad school?) leaves me with a tendency to learn some basic rules and then follow my own path. In general, I think this is a very good thing–you’ll never find me following a less-efficient route because I’m a slave to the (literal or proverbial) GPS. More specifically for a cook this is (aside from baking) nearly always a good thing. Experimenting is the key to understanding ingredients and developing your own style as a cook. Published recipes are generally “safe,” and often lack complete flavor potential.* When I use them, if I use them, they are used as a guide or starting-point. So imagine my surprise when I stuck to an America’s Test Kitchen recipe for Oven-Roasted Thick-Cut Pork Chops, and it turned out to be brilliant.

A perfectly roasted pork chop: a dragon, albeit a small one, I’ve been chasing for ages. Simple and wonderful. I’ve never been able to get it right. So I followed the directions precisely. The people at America’s Test Kitchen are so meticulous in the way they develop recipes I had a feeling they’d get it right, and they totally did. The chop was phenomenal: a richly flavored mahogany crust protecting the tender inside of the chop. I topped it was a garlic/thyme sauce, and cried “PERFECTION!”

I’m not going to publish the recipe. America’s Test Kitchen’s policy is to charge for access to their content, and I can respect that. They might be a step behind the times regarding online sharing, but, hey, they work hard and deserve to make a buck or two. So here is the basic idea

Salt chops and allow them to rest a room temperature.

Cook slowly in a low oven.
Sear over very high heat.

*Clearly I don’t mean posted recipes on this site; they are all full of flavor and joy

My friends at Driving the Northeast invited me to another “Drive a Chevy and Eat Some Free Food” event. This time, they were promoting the Chevy Sonic and treating us to sweets. The premise: we drive the Sonics to Sugar Cafe, Dozen Bakeshop, and Gluuteny. Then, we write about the good times we had with General Motors.

I didn’t drive a Sonic. Instead, I was able to drive a Volt. It was sitting there, looking like it was going to remain in the parking lot where we met to start the tour, so…me being me, I asked if I could drive it. They said I could. Wicked. I’m a big fan of innovation, and a hybrid gas/electric vehicle represents a big leap forward in transportation sustainability. They did a pretty terrific job with this car; aside from how quiet it is, you’d never know it was running on electricity. The Chevy Volt is no golf cart, either–it actually drives like a real car. This is important to me–I believe the path forward to convincing people to adopt a more sustainable lifestyle isn’t about telling people “NO! Bad things! Do without,” but rather “Good! Yes! You see how this is better than the unsustainable thing you’re doing because it’s the thing you’re used to doing?”  If I had a parking spot with an electrical outlet and $41,000 to spare, I’d be all over one of these cars. Well done, American Auto Industry! Enough about cars.

The first stop of the tour was Sugar Cafe. It’s located in Dormont, an up-and-coming Pittsburgh community. My friend Cory takes people on food tours there–you should go on one. But if you’re just interested in a tasty snack, you can’t go wrong with Sugar Cafe. They serve a selection of sandwiches, La Prima coffee, and of course there are many many sweets. The lemon pound-cake was the highlight of our sampling; it’s tart and buttery, with just enough sugar to feel like you’re having a treat. The vanilla macaron was a delight, too; crisp and chewy, resting on a bed of homemade raspberry jam. Sadly, the Irish Car Bomb cupcakes were less successful–perhaps I was biased though, as I’d just written a piece on Cocktail Cupcakes a few days prior to the tour. My standards were high.

Thanks for the easy segue, Hal. No problem, Hal.

I’d written the Cocktail Cupcake article on Dozen Bakeshop, which happened to be the second stop of the tour. We were treated to pumpkin gobs (delicious!), apple-cinnamon pop tarts (you’ll never eat a processed pop tart again after having one of these), an assortment of mini-cupcakes (buttercream frosting happy happy), and a cleverly designed push-up cupcake pop (clearly intended for small children, but the frosting had way too much bright food coloring and it creeped me out). I’m really happy Dozen is starting to find its way again. It closed abruptly last summer, shocking many people in both Lawrenceville and the rest of the city. Although the cupcakes were often dry (they’ve improved quite a bit under new head baker Lindsay Headley), their presence in the community was missed during the time they shuttered the store. It’s a wonderful place to sit with a cup of coffee and pastry, especially on a winter afternoon. Glad you’re back, Dozen.

The final stop on the tour was Gluuteny, a gluten-free and caesin-free bakeshop. I want to like this place. I really do. I feel horrible for people who have a gluten intolerance (an actual one, not one that was diagnosed by a lazy doctor following a health scare trend). No bread? No cake? No PIZZA?!?! This is a terrible thing. So when a company decides to try to add bread-like food back into people’s lives, I hope for the best. And, for being gluten-free, this is damn good stuff. But it’s never going to be able to replace a cake made with wheat flour. Sorry.

I must confess: I don’t have much of a sweet tooth. I’d much rather have a slice of pizza pie than a slice of chocolate pie (and I would indeed have pizza for dessert). Still, sugar shock aside, it was a lovely way to spend the afternoon.

I did it. With just $35* to spend, I was able to eat (mostly) wholesome food for a week. There were times, especially in the beginning, when it was challenging–but there wasn’t a point when I felt like I had to throw in the towel and grab can of chicken.

So challenge completed. But is it sustainable?

A recap for those who haven’t been following along so far: Sherrie Flick,Cory Van Horn, and I decided to see if we each last a week on a $35 food budget. This is a pretty significant challenge in itself–I could easily spend $35 a day on food. Eating Good Food was the other part of the challenge; we could probably make this happen by eating processed junk and Dollar Menu offerings, but could we do it if we limited ourselves to whole foods? I realized before the project started that I wouldn’t be able to do it alone, so I planned a series of tasks that would combine community connections with my culinary skills, this would earn me a “free” meal. It worked out more or less as planned, and, no surprise, I also learned a thing or two along the way.

People were terrifically generous. While working at GoodTaste! Pittsburgh, a friend gave me a jar of homemade maple apple butter. At a potluck the next night, the hosts tried to give me…all the leftovers. My ladyfriend brought a ham for me to cook (see earlier entry for a breakdown on the Great Ham Controversy). Other tried to give me random bits of this and that, and several suggested they just leave food for me somewhere so that I could “discover” it. I drew a pretty firm line in the sand and stuck with it–I wasn’t looking for handouts, that would have been too easy. The apple butter was accepted because this friend would undoubtably give apple butter to someone who needed it (who am I kidding, she would fill your freezer with home-cooked meals if you needed it). I took some food home from the potluck, but nothing more than a guest would normally take. As much as I wanted to chow down on ham for the rest of the week, just about all of it went into the freezer (some of it might come out of the freezer today). And no meals were “discovered.” If I were truly in this situation, I would have leaned on my friends more. I’m really luck to have connected with a community in Pittsburgh that values the importance of a good meal, and is always willing to share. Apparently, I’ve also fallen in line with a bunch of rule breakers insist I take their food for free. What a bunch of rebels.

Volunteering was a big part of the project–you can read more about my experiences in the day-by-day recaps. Connecting with people who don’t have a choice about the food they eat totally put things in perspective; I was complaining about being hungry, and then I met people who are actually hungry. This turned the project into something much more personal. I took on the idea on on lark, as an experiment. The same day I volunteered at the soup kitchen, I dropped a huge pot of beans on the ground. Normally, I’d be pissed off that I had so much cleaning up to do (I’m clumsy, I drop things). When it happened this time, I was devastated that I was losing so much food, and so much good food too. The food was irreplaceable–I’d used precious bits of ham and onion to flavor the beans, there were none left for the next batch. The fact that I seriously considered keeping beans that had fallen on my not-so-clean kitchen floor was really telling.

I cooked. A lot. I cook a lot in general, but this was extreme. There is no possibility of dining out (at least dining out on wholesome food) on a $35 per week budget. Everything has to be made from scratch. All in all, I enjoyed my time in the kitchen–I mean, cooking is such a big part about what I do, so why wouldn’t I? But I did notice my creativity started to wane toward the end of the week. At first, I was trying to use this as opportunity to be as creative as possible, but by the end of the week I just wanted to get fed. Perhaps this was a because I realized that the project was taking up more and more of my time. I wanted to be true to the nature of the experiment, but I also didn’t want to miss a deadline/fail any of my classes. So instead of diligently planning out meals that combined flavor/nutrients/sunshine, I made a variety of soup. Good soup, delicious soup, soup from scratch–but still soup.

To my surprise, snack time turned out to be a much bigger challenge than mealtime. I didn’t realize how mindlessly I snacked until I had to be mindful of everything I ate. Suddenly an apple or a banana was a precious commodity. It was a difficult adjustment during the first few days. I would casually wander over to the kitchen, and then realize that I couldn’t actually eat anything. At first this made me feel more hungry than I really was, but eventually I learned to ignore it (OK, perhaps I learned to live with it–I still wanted to snack).

There are plenty of reasons to critique this project.

The first is that I (and my partners in writing) are part of a leisure/creative/academic class, and therefore have the opportunity to explore this. Agreed. We are. And frankly I’m glad we are. The creative part of society has been constantly demonized, and I think that’s a bunch of crap. My response to this is perhaps one of the biggest problems in our food system isn’t the food system itself (is a MASSIVE problem, don’t get me wrong), it’s that as a country we’re on a downward spiral to catch up with the lowest common denominator. The fact that so many people don’t have time to cook isn’t just a reflection on privilege, it’s a kick in society’s face. We should all have time to cook (or pursue a hobby, play a sport, read a book, etc), we shouldn’t have to run to McDingDong’s because we’re so worked to the bone that all we want to do is get home and watch other people cook on TV. It’s sad.

It also called into question my belief that people should pay more for their food. I have the luxury of being able to purchase humanely raised meat; that’s expensive. I’ve often said that it should be expensive because farmers and farm workers should be able to earn a decent living without being forced to treat animals like commodities. But if it remains expensive, how can a person with only $35 for the week eat humanly raised meat then? Some would argue that we shouldn’t be eating meat at all. Fair enough, but I disagree. We should be eating less meat (and avoiding factory meat), but I don’t believe we should be eating no meat. That’s a totally different subject for a post, isn’t it? The point is that this week forced me to question where the balance is between supporting farmers and farm workers, and being able to afford Good Food. Perhaps we need to be spending less money on other things? Growing gardens? Working communally?

Another critique: This is a bit of a whimsical exercise, and we weren’t really in the same position as people on fixed incomes. Agreed, and at times it made me feel terribly silly about doing this project. Who am I to think that my participation in this is somehow important? This was an exercise, and it’s not going to change the world. But like we said at the beginning, it wasn’t designed to be perfect. It was, however, a terrific learning experience. I am still thinking about every food choice I make. I’m going to go back to the soup kitchen next week. It’s challenged me to rethink ideas and ideals. So perfect? Not at all. Worthwhile? I’d say so.

Some people felt my methodology of using my culinary skills and community connections to “earn” meals was a cop-out. I disagree. While I don’t think bartering my time would be practical over the long term, I do think it was worthwhile. I was able to connect with people who needed help in some way, and I think that’s a pretty good thing indeed.

So is a $35 weekly food budget sustainable? No, not for me. It can be done, and of course there are people who don’t have a choice. Perhaps during the summer it would have been an easier project since my garden would be in full swing–that wasn’t an option right now (though I will be sure to grow & save more next year). In some ways, I actually ate better throughout the week; more vegetables and whole grains than I normally would, I cut down on my meat consumption (and only purchased meat raised in a way I philosophically agree with), and reduced my overall calorie intakte (sad Hal, no snacks). But in the end, I love food way too much to have to decide between a piece of cheese and a slice of beef. I’m grateful that I don’t have to make that choice right now. I’m also mindful that we as a society need to work to build a food system that ensures everybody has access to wholesome meals.

*Technically I had $45 to spend. When we set the ground rules, we decided coupons were allowed. I cashed in a Living Social Deal that allowed me to spend $20 at Whole Foods for only $10. As the week went on, I started to feel like I was gaming the system; Whole Foods doesn’t have coupons like this on a regular basis. So I decided to try to stick as close to the original $35 as possible. I came close, and probably would have done it if I didn’t make a few choices (I’m looking at you, cheese) on my original Whole Foods trip.

For more on the project, please visit:
Sherrie Flick’s Sentences and Food
Cory Van Horne’s Culinary Cory
Both of them are fantastic writers, and I found their collaboration on the project as worthwhile as the project itself.

To read about my day-to-day experiences, go to:
The Preview
Days One and Two
The Great Ham Controversy
Volunteering, Losing My Beans

My earlier complaints about hunger seem very silly now.

On Day Four, I volunteered at the Jubilee Soup Kitchen. This is the experience that will resonate the most with me from this project. During my graduate studies, I’ve taken classes on food access and talked at length about privilege, status, elitism, and all that good stuff. All of this was educational, but none of it impressed me as much as seeing people waiting outside the soup kitchen for a free meal. The biggest rush happened right at the start, but there was also a steady stream of people for the entire two hour lunch service. What stuck me most was the atmosphere of the soup kitchen–it wasn’t an unhappy place. Perhaps it had something to do with the unseasonably beautiful November day, but I don’t think so. There was a sense of community there. I’m not trying to paint a picture of unicorns and moonbeams–it was still a soup kitchen, and there were certainly a significant amount of people who seemed to be in a very challenging place in their lives. But it also wasn’t as bleak as I’d thought it was going to be, and it seemed like most of the people there were just in need of a little bit of help and kindness to get them through the day. Don’t get me started on the whole “pull yourself up by your bootstraps” business; sometimes it takes someone to feed you a hot meal to help put things back together.

One of the things that really struck me was that at least half the volunteers used to (or still) rely on the kitchen for a meal. Conservatives like to frame the impoverished as lazy scammers, always looking for their next free handout from the government. That wasn’t the impression I got at all. No one seemed happy about taking something for nothing. One woman, who used to be homeless but now had a job, told me she “needed to come back here and help, because they gave so much to me when I needed it the most.”

And what a meal it was. We have this image of soup kitchens as places of horrible food, but, at least in this case, it was different. The chef takes a ton of pride in feeding people. He prepared a hearty dish of tortellini, ground beef, carrots, and potatoes. The dish was topped with cheese. It was wonderful. Served alongside green beans, salad, and fresh fruit. Nobody left hungry. It was the best meal I’ve had so far.

I’m really glad the Jubilee Kitchen is doing what it’s doing. Without a doubt, I’ll be back to help serve lunch. You should help, too.

Later that night, perhaps the UniverseKarmaSpiritbearWhatever needed to reinforce the notion that my food woes were simply self-constructed food woes: I Dropped The Beans. Words of advice: cooking beans late at night after a long day isn’t a brilliant idea. I didn’t have much of a choice, since my meal plan for the next day called for beans. So–beans I cooked. And oh, they were glorious beans. Flavored with leftover ham and smoke, texture perfect. After I dropped them I even considered picking them up from my kitchen floor. Nobody would know, right? OK. I did pick them up from my kitchen floor. They have since been sent to the compost bin, but I really was on the verge of eating them. Even though I’m aware this project is a self-constructed situation that has a firm end date, losing the beans because of a moment of clumsiness was a remarkably sad experience. I was on the phone at the time, and was totally unable to finish the conversation; all I could think about was how I lost three meal’s worth of food. I hope I’m never in a position where I have to eat beans that I scraped up from my kitchen floor.

On Day Five I volunteered at the Environmental Charter School. My friend runs the lunch program there, and she’s always in need of assistance. So off I went. We picked up a hot meal of mac ‘n cheese (with and without shrimp) from the cafe at Phipps Conservatory, because the school itself doesn’t have a kitchen. There are a few things to unpack from the last sentence. First: mac ‘n cheese with SHRIMP?! What a strange combination. Many of the kids thought so, too. More importantly: NO KITCHEN!?

Fun fact: Many schools in the United States no longer have their own kitchens–they rely on pre-packaged meals. ECH is an example of making the best out of a bad situation; the school works with local restaurants to serve nutritious meals made from quality ingredients. Most other schools in this situation aren’t so lucky. It’s a sad sad sad thing (that’s getting better, but there is still a long way to go).

It’s possible I might be in danger of losing jobs before I even get them. The Environmental Charter School has its own food critic, Riley. This kid is good!

On Day Six, the plan was to do a chef’s demo at a local farmers’ market. It didn’t happen. A combination of crappy weather and the market losing half its space to preparations for “Light Up Night” caused the demo to be cancelled. Sad news, it would have been quite fun. But no big deal–I am on budget and ready to see this through.

I’ve been cooking. Lots of cooking. I thought I spent a good amount of time in the kitchen to begin with, but nothing compared to the amount of time I’ve spent this week. Everything is cooked from scratch. The decision to eschew processed foods (well…alright, I did have a Top Ramen snack last night!) isn’t just a financial decision, it’s also an investment in time.

I made a wonderful puree of roasted Blue Hubbard squash (from our Eden Hall garden!), carrots, and turnips. I used a little bit of butter (accounted for), the broth from boiling the carrots and turnips, and seasoned with salt and garam masala. It was wonderful! I bought a wee bit of ground beef (.27lbs for $1.35) and put half of it into a soup made with the last of my carrots, turnip greens (bonus! there were still turnip greens in my garden!!!), onion, celery, tomato, and barley. It was remarkably satisfying. I also made a breakfast sandwich from two of my eggs and a tiny bit of my mozzarella. It felt nice to finally break into my cheese stash.

And I made Baked Penne! Yes, that is a link to a video of me showing you how to make this dish. Watch the video, make the dish. Anyway, I’d been hoarding my mozzarella, and had enough money left to afford a tiny bit of Parmigiano Reggiano cheese. I used some of my frozen tomato sauce, the last of my home-grown garlic, and had an amazing dinner.

I’m totally going to do this. And I’m eating pretty well, too.

Total Additional Money Spent: $3.50
$1.35 for beef, $0.30 for Top Ramen, $1.50 for Parmigiano Reggiano cheese, $0.35 for pasta.
Money left for the week: $9.13

On Day Three I ate ham.

My task for the day was to use my cooking skills to teach someone how to make a dish they had always wanted to learn how to cook. In exchange, they would provide the ingredients. Part of my skill-set is helping new cooks learn how to make cooking enjoyable, so I thought this would be a perfect way to earn some food. My ladyfriend is southern, but she didn’t know how to make one of the most iconic southern dishes: baked ham. Also, I’m pretty sure she was taking pity on me for my restricted diet. Regardless, I thought it was a good deal.

Baking ham can be a totally simple proposition: purchase ham (already cured, smoked, and cooked), gently heat it in the oven, and then serve. Ham can also be a very complex proposition: purchase a fresh ham and do all the curing, smoking, and cooking yourself. As much as I’d love to cure and smoke my own ham, that was impractical for this task. OK, it’s generally impractical (though fantastic!), so it made much more sense to use a pre-cured ham. Since it wasn’t possible to teach her how to cure a ham from scratch, my best bet was show her how to enhance the flavor of a pre-cured one. Hello Whiskey-and-Spice Ham!

Baked Whiskey and Spice Ham
Start with a pre-cooked, bone-in ham.
Pat ham dry with paper towels.
Brush ham with a layer of Dijon Mustard.
Pat on a layer of Brown Sugar over the mustard.
Spray ham with Whiskey (bourbon is best).
Pat on a layer of Crushed Ginger Snaps.

Tent with foil and bake at 275 for 15 minutes per pound.
Raise heat to 325 and bake uncovered for last 15-20 minutes of cooking.

I’ve taken some slack for this one because in the middle of this project I got to eat one of my favorite foods, which happens to be a giant and fairly expensive hunk of meat. So I’ll say this: I didn’t eat an entire ham, nor do I have plans to eat the rest of it (this week). I had a meal-sized portion, and reserved an extra slice for a breakfast sandwich the next day. The rest of the ham, except for the bone, will be frozen for later enjoyment (the bone will be used to flavor another round of beans). Also, although ham would certainly be high on my list of requested dishes, it wasn’t my idea (though it was very much appreciated).

Additional money spent: $0.25 (that’s about how much whiskey I used)
Money left for the week: $12.63

*If you’re wondering about my other meals: Oatmeal w/ maple apple butter for breakfast, leftover veggie soup for lunch, green beans with dinner, tiny bit of cheese and some pretzels (given to me on Sat.) as a snack, and an apple as another snack.

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