Need A New Year's Resolution? Save Money! Cook.

By way of saying farewell and adieu for another six months (at which time I surely will have written "The End" to my work-in-progress), allow me to get on my  high horse for a moment about one of my favorite subjects: food.

As food relates to money. Which, yes, it does. Consider this:

Several years ago, I was in Oregon visiting family and had dinner with my cousins at a "nice" restaurant: entrees in the $25.00 range. Good food. I enjoyed it. Drinks, dinner, wine, dessert. 

Expensive? Yes, it was. But my cousins ate there often. If I remember correctly, they'd already been there once that week. (This was, for them, a "neighborhood" restaurant.)

During the course of the conversation, one of the cousins complained about money, or the lack thereof. In his words, it was hard to "keep the wolf from the door," and if only he could earn about $10,000 a year more, he said, everything would be just dandy.

Being a polite midwesterner, I refrained from pointing out the obvious: He already HAD that "extra" $10,000 a year. Indeed, he was chowing down on part of it that moment.

Namely, all that money he spent (or threw away) every month going out to eat. I did a rough mental calculation and concluded that he and his family spent in the neighborhood of $800 a month going out to eat. By my math, which admittedly sucks, 800 times twelve equals $9,600 a year. Pretty damn close to ten thousand.

So. Looking for a new year's resolution? How about saving yourself some money (and time!) by doing some basic cooking?

That's the point of a lovely and practical essay by Mark Bittman in this week's New York Times Sunday opinion section.

Bittman writes about food for the Times and is the author of a number of cookbooks. His take on food is basic and practical: Cooking is not rocket science. Pretty much anyone can make a good meal.

EVEN WHEN YOU THINK YOU'RE 'TOO TIRED' TO DO SO. (In all caps because I want to make sure you get the point.)

He's dead right. When I'm tired at the end of the day, the last thing, and I mean the. last. thing. I want to do is drag my tired ass out to a restaurant. Get in the car or walk to a place, wait to be seated, wait to order, wait for the food, etc.

It's sooooooooooooooo much easier on my tired body, and so much more relaxing, to fix something at home. And, yes, it's cheaper!

What I especially appreciate about Bittman is his non-preachy approach to the matter: Keep some basics on hand. Learn a few (basic) skills. You're good to go!

(Unlike, in other words, the approach taken by the Food Scold In Chief [aka Michael Pollan], whose idea of cooking begins with a trip to the back yard to plant your garden. "It's not a meal, you fool! It's a political statement! Save the fucking planet first! And THEN you can eat.")

So. Do yourself a favor: read his essay, try one of the recipes. Please.

Here's my addition to his message: The smartest purchase I ever made (well, okay, the husband paid for it) was our small freezer. (If I remember correctly, it's ten cubic feet.) At any given moment, it's full of food I've cooked. Which means that at any given moment when I don't feel like cooking, well, hey, all I gotta do is trot down to the basement and pull something out, let it sit on the counter for a few hours, and voila! Dinner.

Whaddya waitin' for? Get cooking! Your brain, and your bank account, will thank you.

In the Kitchen: Oven-Roasted Chicken Cacciatora

This arrived in my in-box courtesy of the fine folks at Splendid Table. It's truly scrumptious and so easy that it could be called Dummy Chicken.

The recipe comes from The Splendid Table's How to Eat Supper. I'm probably violating a copyright law by posting the recipe, but . . . . On the other hand, it's a short recipe, so maybe I'm not. (Fair use allows free use of limited text.)

Oven-Roasted Chicken Cacciatora

• 2.5 to 3 pounds of chicken thighs or chicken breast bone-in
• 1/3 c. pitted Kalamata olives
• 4 - 6 thin slices of cacciatore, Genoa, or hard salami, cut in 1-inch squares (I used Molinari brand.)
• large red or green pepper, cut into 1-inch pieces (original recipe calls for red; I had a green one on hand)
• 1 large fresh tomato or 3 drained canned ones, chopped coarse (I used an entire can; didn't want to waste it)
• 1 medium to large red onion, chopped coarse
• leaves from two 4-inch sprigs fresh rosemary (didn't have any; used dried)
• 10 fresh sage leaves, torn (ditto)
• 4 large garlic cloves, minced
• 1 t. fennel seeds, lightly crushed (or not, see my note in text below)
• 1/4 c. dry red wine
• 1/4 c. good olive oil (this is the time to use the GOOD stuff; bold and fruity is best)
• salt, pepper
• juice of one lemon (which I forgot)

Preheat oven to 400.

Note: Since I didn't have fresh herbs, I just chopped up the sage, rosemary, and fennel with the garlic. Made a nice paste, it did, which served its purpose deliciously.

Arrange the chicken on a large shallow pan. The original suggested a half-sheet pan, but I used my 3 quart, shallow, round enameled cast iron pot. 

Scatter all the other ingredients, except the lemon, over the chicken. Roast for 30 minutes. Baste with pan juices, turn the chicken pieces over, and roast another 10-15 minutes. NOTE: the timing is predicated on using thighs. I used breast meat and adjusted the timing accordingly. It's done when the meat temperature reaches 180. If you wanted "browned" chicken, turn on the broiler for a minute or two. Squeeze the lemon juice over all just before serving.

Swoon. Swoon again a couple of nights later when you eat the leftovers. (Put dish, covered, in a cold oven. Turn the temperature to, I dunno, 250? 300? Heat for fifteen or so minutes.)

In the Kitchen: Curried Lentils With Sweet Potatoes and Chard

I found this recipe in the New York Times. It's staggeringly delicious and so simple. The original recipe regards it as a stew, to be served in a bowl. In my opinion, it cries out for a dish of good rice. This freezes well, so don't worry about having too many leftovers.

I'm always paranoid that links will go dead, so I'm including the recipe here:

• 2 T. oil, olive or whatever
• medium onion, chopped
• 4 garlic cloves, minced
• 1-inch piece of fresh ginger, peeled and grated (I just chopped it)
• 1-1/2 t. garam masala (*)
• 1-1/2 t. curry powder
• jalapeno pepper, or other hot pepper, seeded and minced (or, if you're that kind of person, leave the seeds in)
• 4-5 c. vegetable broth (I used chicken)
• 2 pounds sweet potatoes, peeled, cut in 1/2 inch cubes (s. potatoes are the ORANGE ones)
• 1-1/2 c. dried lentils (I used basic brown ones)
• bay leaf
• pound of chard, ribs removed, leaves sliced thin
• 1 t. or more of kosher salt, ground pepper to taste
• 1/3 c. chopped cilantro
• grated zest of one lime
• juice of half a lime (I added the juice of the whole thing)
• 1/3 c. chopped almonds for garnish (optional; I opted out)
• 1/4 c. chopped scallions for garnish (I forgot them)

In a large saucepan (I used a large skillet), heat oil over medium heat. Add onion, saute until translucent. Add the garlic, ginger, garam masala, curry powder, and hot pepper. Cook, stirring, for a minute.

Stir in 4 c. of broth, the potatoes and lentils and bay leaf. Increase heat to high and bring to boil. Reduce heat to medium or lower, and simmer, partially covered, for 25 minutes. (If the lentils look too dry, add more broth.) Add chard, salt, and pepper, and continue cooking until the lentils are soft and chard is cooked.

Just before dishing, add the cilantro, lime zest and juice. Garnish with almonds and scallions. Or not.

* I make garam masala using the recipe in Julie Sahni's Classic Indian Cooking.

• 1.5 T. of black cardamom seeds
• 1.5 cinnamon sticks
• 1/2 T. whole cloves
• 1/8 c. black peppercorns
• 1/4 c. cumin seeds
• 1/4 c. coriander seeds

Crush the cinnamon sticks with a mallet or rolling pin (or the nearest hard-headed person you can find). Put all the spices in a small, heavy saute pan and roast them over high heat for a minute or two, until the scent fills the room! (Watch them. You don't want to burn them.) Grind the mixture. Store in an airtight container in a dry, cool spot.

In the Kitchen: "Calabrian" Tomato Tart

I found this recipe last summer in the newspaper. I gather it's an adaptation of a recipe that originally appeared in a cookbook called Mediterranean: Hot and Spicy.

I'm here to tell you: this falls into the seriously-good category. I've made it many times since, winter and summer.

Make sure you start with good ingredients: ie, use real Romano and good olive oil (if you go that route rather than using lard.) (Which, frankly, I think you should: the butter adds a lovely rich dimension.)

 Add some sausage or proscuitto or olives or basil or whatever. It's GOOD. It tastes great warm or cold. Make it for parties. Make it when you're sad. Make it for someone you love. Just make it.

One note: as with any pastry, don't overbake it. The crust is definitely best when it's chewy rather than crispy. (I speak from experience.) I've never tried it with lard; I've only used butter-olive-oil substitution.

If you want to eat it warmed as leftovers, put it on a wire rack, put it in a warm oven (maybe 325), and leave it about fifteen minutes. Even better the second time around!

So. Whaddya waiting for? Go make some of this stuff. You won't be sorry.

CRUST:

• 2.5 c. flour
• 1.5 c. grated romano
• 1/2 to 1 t. pepper
• 4 oz. lard OR 1/4 c. olive oil and 1/4 c. butter
• 1/4 c. white wine (or more if needed)
• 2 eggs, lightly beaten

TOPPING:

• 3 pints cherry tomatoes
• 2 or 3 jalapeno or anaheim chilies, seeded and chopped
• one egg, beaten with a splash of water
• finishing salt

The first time I made this, I didn't have three pints of cherry tomatoes. I had one pint of those, plus a few Santa tomatoes  and a couple of plain-Jane slicers. I used all three.

The original recipe calls for making the crust in a food processor, but I don't own one. I use a large fork to mix the flour, cheese, and pepper. Then I add the butter (which is cold and chopped into small bits) and use my fingers to mix it with the flour. (You're looking for something the consistency of coarse cornmeal.) Then I add the wine and egg to make a sticky dough.

Press into a disk, cover with plastic wrap, and let stand 30 minutes. Preheat the oven to 375 degrees and line an 11x14 inch baking sheet with parchment paper (or whatever).

Transfer the dough to the baking sheet, stretching and pressing it to cover the bottom. (Oh. I also don't have a baking sheet that size, so I used a larger one and simply stretched the dough to the right size.)

Brush the dough with the beaten egg and water. Scatter the tomatoes and chilis on top, pressing them lightly into the dough. Sprinkle with salt. (The good stuff, folks. Morton's does NOT cut it. A slightly coarse salt if fab.)

Bake 35 to 40 minutes or until the crust is golden brown and the tomatoes are a bit wrinkled and blackened. Let cool on  a rack. Pour the wine. Forget the day's woes.

In the Kitchen: Pasta with Proscuitto and Basil

I've probably spelled proscuitto wrong. Anyway. It's summer, I'm tired. What to do for dinner? This:

Julienned some proscuitto. Chopped a handful of basil. Cut up some tiny tomatoes. Grated some parmesan cheese.

Put on a pot of water to boil for the pasta. (I used the long fusilli stuff, the name of which escapes me.) When the water had boiled, I added the pasta.

As it cooked, I heated some olive oil in another pan. When the oil was medium hot, I added the proscuitto and cooked it until crisp. Took it from the pan and let it drain slightly on a paper towel. (I know: shameful to use a paper towel. I don't do it often).

When the pasta was cooked, I tonged it into the pan with the olive oil and tossed it gently. Added the meat, tossed gently again. Added the tomatoes and basil. Tossed again. Added the cheese. Another light toss.

Into two bowls. Put those on the table along with a bowl of cantelope and one of cherries. Poured the wine. Relished the moment.

In the Kitchen: Last-Minute-Chard-And-Pasta

What do you do when you realize you're missing a crucial ingredient for what you'd planned for dinner? Improvise. (*1)

Advance warning: This is not a summery dish. But it's what I had on hand and what  I came up with in a hurry.

I had a bunch of chard in the frig, so I decided to cook that with pasta. I de-stemmed the chard, julienned the leaves and chopped the stems. Chopped a couple of cloves of garlic.

Rummaged in the fridge and found a half jar of roasted red pepper and some smoked ham. (There was also some pancetta, but I opted to use the ham.) Dried the peppers and chopped those and sliced the ham into thin strips.

Put on a pot of water to boil. Heated olive oil in a large pan.

When the oil was hot, I added the ham and chard stems and cooked those for six or seven minutes (or whatever). Added the garlic and cooked the goods a couple more minutes. Added the chard and some water; put a lid on the pan and cooked it on low for ten minutes.

When the chard was done, I removed the lid, turned the heat to medium-high and evaporated the rest of the water. Added the roasted pepper.

When it was close to eating time, I added the pasta to the water and cooked that. (I used Chitarra, but Fusilli, Linguini, or Bucattini would be great.)

When it was done, I tonged it into the pan with the greens, added a quarter cup or so of pasta water, and tossed and cooked all of it. Just before serving, I added a pat of butter (because as both Marcella and Julia insist, everything's better with butter) and a handful of grated parmesan.

Dished the dish, poured the wine, and enjoyed.

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*1: Yes, I'm big on substitutions, omissions, and the like, but in this case, the dish I'd planned really wouldn't work without fresh ginger, and by damn, I had none. So: on to Plan B. Because at my house, we adhere to the unbreakable rule: NO trips to the grocery store for just one thing. There's other food in the house. Can't make what you'd planned? Then make something else.