Category Archives: food

Farewell, Joseph Schmidt

February 16, 2010food, holidays, nostalgiaKirsetin

This year, I didn’t ask for truffles for Valentine’s Day.

I’ve never been a big chocolate lover. I’d much rather have some kettle chips, but you know, that’s not really something you can ask for for Valentine’s Day. Is it?

Twenty years ago, when I was single and living in San Francisco I discovered many things, among them the finest truffles I’ve ever enjoyed. And just like that Joseph Schmidt Confectioners turned a non-chocolate lover into a lover of their finely crafted chocolate truffles. The crunchy shell, the smooth-as-silk middle…they got it perfectly right. They’ve produced my favorite chocolate ever since and for every special occasion, that’s been the go-to place for tasty treats.

Can you imagine my horror when I discovered that Hershey bought, and then closed, the store?

There are so many things I could write about this. I could go for nostalgia and explain how the aroma of those pretty little truffles could transport me to a wonderful, exciting time in my life. I could be indignant and rant about corporations destroying the locals. I could be angry, I could be disgusted, I could, I could, I could…

But instead I am simply sad. I’m heartbroken over the demise of this little confectionary I stumbled upon as I stumbled my way into adulthood.

So it turns out it’s a good thing I didn’t ask for them, because that would’ve been even worse, don’t you think?

And even though I didn’t ask, did I expect truffles? Flowers? Trinkets? Find my thoughts on Valentine’s Day and gift giving (and receiving) over at Blissfully Domestic.

What a Crock

February 11, 2010foodKirsetin

I’m no fan of the crock pot.

The idea, I love. Throw some stuff in and voila! Leave it alone for an entire day and it will magicially transform into a tasty meal that makes your family feel like there really IS a mother in the house.

Except, no.

Almost every single thing I have ever made in the crock pot—other than chili–regardless of which meat, spices, and vegetables I include, comes out as essentially the same gross meal.

I know, I know. You have recipes. You can change my crock pot life. My children will fondly recall our lingering family dinners, full of laughter and sharing if only I can get this right.

But, see, I’ve tried. It just doesn’t work for me.

And so, last month when I made my month-of-meals plan, I wasn’t planning any crock pot specials. But I did want to make a couple of new recipes, so I went through all my old clippings and cookbooks to try to find something, anything, we don’t usually have that my people might eat. Hmmm.

I found a recipe for pulled pork that sounded interesting. Chili power. Check. Garlic. Check. Thai chili sauce. Mmm. Hmmm. These are things I might go for, and so, despite the fact that it called for dragging the unreliable appliance out and cooking-it-all-day-in-hopes-that-it-would-not-taste-like-every-single-other-thing-I’ve-ever-made-in-there, I gave it a whirl.

And?

It was good! Surprise! And it did not taste anything like the other randomness that has emerged from aforementioned crock pot.

So, hooray. There’s one. One is better than none. I’ll take it.

The recipe was clipped from a newspaper, which has clearly been around for more than a few years, but there’s no name or date reference on the clip. So I apologize for not giving credit to the daring soul that dreamed this up. Here’s the recipe, if you’re so inclined.

PULLED PORK

1 T olive oil

2 onions, finely chopped^*

6 cloves garlic, minced

1 T chili powder

1 t cracked black peppercorns

1 c Thai chili sauce

¼ c packed brown sugar

¼ c cider vinegar

1 T Worcestershire sauce

1 t liquid smoke

1 boneless pork shoulder, trimmed of excess fat (abut 3 lbs)^*

Kaiser rolls

^*Notes: I used less onion (because I don’t care for it) and I used a pork loin instead of pork shoulder. I think mine was bigger – maybe 4 or 5 lbs. I also added a bit of water because my stainless steel crockpot does not know it’s supposed to keep things moist. I think it failed crockpot finals.

Heat oil in a large nonstick skillet; cook onions over medium heat, until soft. Add garlic, chili powder, and peppercorns; cook, stirring for 1 minute. Add Thai chili sauce, brown sugar, vinegar, Worcestershire sauce and liquid smoke. Stir to combine and bring to a boil.

Place pork shoulder in crock pot. Pour sauce over pork. Cover and cook on high 6 hours or on low 10-12 hours, until meat is very tender.

Transfer pork to cutting board and pull the meat apart in shreds, using two forks. Return to sauce and keep warm until ready to serve.

Spoon shredded pork onto warm Kaiser rolls.

Never Ask for a Rain Check at Wal-Mart

February 5, 2010food, friendship, shoppingKirsetin

You know I don’t like to shop at Wal-Mart, right? But I found myself there last week, against my better judgment. I was on my way to my son’s elementary school with my Couscous-Artichoke Salad for the Teacher Conference Dinners when I realized I’d forgotten to bring a serving spoon. There, to my left, loomed the Big Store. I made the executive decision that a trip inside was warranted, on this occasion, so that I could quickly score a plastic serving utensil. I figured I could surely find something for around $2- $3 and be out of there in 5 minutes flat.

Ahem. Not so much.

I did find lots of plastic black utensils – among them, a perfectly fine serving spoon for—wait for it—a whole 97 cents! I grabbed said utensil and headed for the checkout, Amex in hand. On the way I passed the Diet Coke display. Now let’s be clear about this: that stuff does not pass my lips except in dire circumstances. Like, really, never. I am a Pepsi girl through and through. However, I am married to someone who, for reasons I cannot comprehend, prefers that Other Stuff. As my loyal Pepsi-drinking friend, Janet, will attest, it pains people like us to pay full price for Diet Coke. It’s like throwing money in the trash. And so, when I saw the big SALE sign, I decided to pick up some poison for my dearest. ‘Cause it was cheap, see?

Except, wait, no. Coke, they have. Cherry Coke, yes. The Diet Coke area is entirely cleared out, which I find amusing as I look around, wondering which of these shoppers actually drinks a diet beverage.

Um, that was probably inappropriate. Sorry about that. I digress.

So I took my fancy serving spoon to the checkout and it was then that I made My Very Big Mistake.

Clerk: “Did you find everything okay?”

Me: “Uh, just about. You’re all out of the Diet Coke that’s on sale.”

Clerk: “Oh. Well, if you can wait just one minute I can run in the back and check that for you.

Me, foolishly, “Um, okay.”

I wait 5 or 6 minutes, which feel like an eternity. I spend it staring at other shoppers and the seriously non-food yet food-like items in their baskets, and wondering what they do with all of that other fabric and glue and craft-type stuff they buy. Also, I notice that Wal-Mart seems to sell a lot of antacid. (Probably to those non-food eaters.) I also start to feel pretty good about the few times a week I hit the gym.

I am about the ditch the whole thing and get the heck out of there when I finally see the Clerk sauntering my way. Without aforementioned Other Stuff.

Clerk: Yeah, uh, we’re all out of that. But, um, I can give you a rain check or, you know, the Coke guy comes tomorrow to re-stock everything, so you can just come back tomorrow.

Me, still foolish: I think I’d prefer the rain check. I’m not sure I’ll be back tomorrow.

Clerk looks confused. Apparently everyone comes back tomorrow and she has never encountered this response. Seriously. Perplexed.

Clerk: Huh. Okay. Well, if you’ll just wait here for a minute, I’ll go get the paperwork.

She returns a few minutes later, more quickly this time, with a photocopied piece of paper. I feel like I am back in grade school looking at a blurry mimeograph.

Slowly, painfully, she fills out the Store Number, the Store Location, the Item Requested.

“How many do you want, ma’am.”

Thinking, “None, really,” I say instead, “Um, two, I guess. Two will be fine.”

“Okay, if you can just fill out this half…”

I complete the other half of the form with my name, phone number, address (really, am I on a Rain Check List now?), and Item Requested.

“Now, if you’ll just wait here, I will go cut this in half for you.”

And really, this is what she does. Slowly, painstakingly, she cuts out the box on the left and hands it to me. Then she cuts out the box on the right and places it in the Crazy People Who Do Not Come Here Every Day And Actually Want a Rain Check file.

All of that for a rain check I’ll never use. ‘Cause you know I’m not going back, don’t you?