Eating Well Anywhere

I don’t like coffee. I know. What’s wrong with me? A half a million years ago or so I was at my grandmother’s house, a girl of maybe seven, baking something with her (Was that the time I convinced her my mom let me taste everything that goes into chocolate chip cookies? Including the Crisco? I think it was.), in her Harvest Gold kitchen with the new and almost-as-cool-as-Care-Bears microwave oven AND FOR ONE VERY SHORT SIP I MISTOOK MY GRANDMOTHER’S COFFEE FOR MY PEPSI. That’s how it felt–ALL CAPS. Or maybe I was just a drama queen back then, too.

It was more than the coffee–I was convinced that seven-year-olds weren’t supposed to have coffee and something horrible was going to happen. Would I go to hell in a hand basket? Find a Camel Light between my fingers at any moment (cue Bewitched nose twitch sound effect)? It was going to be bad.

Turns out the only bad thing was the coffee, at least to my seven-year-old’s palate. BAD. But I have always loved the smell of coffee, and both my mother and mother-in-law love coffee (later in life, for Mom; maybe there’s still hope for me?). I don’t own an electric coffee pot, so Mom brought me this adorable stovetop coffee percolator so I would stop it with the instant coffee, already.

When the water boils, it shoots up a tube, splashes in the little glass knob on top, and runs down through a perforated basket of coffee grounds which sits at the top of the pot. When the liquid splashing in the knob turns brown, it’s coffee. There are usually some dregs at the bottom of the pot, but at least it’s not instant. I want to say you could use it on a campfire, but I haven’t tried that. I do know it works great on a wood stove, which is where mine hangs out most of the winter to heat water for tea.

And it all goes in the dishwasher (no plastic parts), which, along with the smell of coffee percolating, is very high on the list of things I like.

Coffee Pot Mulled Cider

I make mulled cider in this pot, too. If you try this with an electric coffee maker, you need to have a good way to clean the water reservoir. Not that I haven’t done it, but then every time I used that coffee maker it smelled like cider (and then vinegar after I cleaned it, and that’s why I don’t have an electric coffee maker anymore; aren’t I Little Miss Storyteller today?). Just use your favorite mulling spice mix–or try this:

Fill the pot half full with cider. Add 1/2 cup water, unless you like strong cider–it will boil down a bit. Add mulling spices to the basket–in my pantry I can usually find at least 1 cinnamon stick (3″ or so), 1 or 2 large pieces lemon zest, 5 or 6 cloves, and a small chunk of nutmeg. Put the pot over medium heat and percolate twenty minutes or until desired strength.

I’ve decided that the amount of fun I’m having is at least in some small part proportionate to the amount of heavy cream I’m consuming–testament to it is this belated post to mark the new year. More cream isn’t exactly my resolution for 2009, but it’s close.

The recipe for a good life is at the same time so much more than food and no more complicated than a pint of good cream–this I am slowly learning. Thank you for your part. Thank you for reading, and thank you for pulling up a chair at my table every now and then, so to speak, with your kind, thoughtful, and creative comments, links, and e-mails.

Wishing you a happy and delicious new year.

I’d highly recommend any of the following recipes, all of which we happily consumed over the past two holiday-filled weeks, if you still have a bit (or a lot) of cream to use up. This year, “just because” is reason enough for getting out the good stuff every now and then.

Ina Garten’s Penne with Five Cheeses
Peppermint Ice Cream from The Kitchn, adapted from Jeni Britton’s recipe
Parmesan Smashed Potatoes from The Barefoot Contessa Cookbook
Penne alla Vodka, adapted from Emeril Lagasse’s Pasta with Pepper Vodka Sauce

I know very little about pasta. I don’t know the names of all the shapes, I don’t know which shape best goes with which sauce, and I still don’t know whether I can really notice any difference when I salt the pasta water. Of the little I do know about pasta, I think I learned half of it from reading Heat. Great book.

I like pasta, this I do know. Fortunately, in cooking and eating, that counts for something.

I especially like Target’s Archer Farms Whole Wheat Spaghetti. It has a light flavor, as far as whole wheat pasta goes, and its texture is more like, well, pasta, and less like crumbly Valentine’s Day conversation hearts (as soon as Christmas is over we restock our minds, barren as the discounted holiday decorations aisle I saw today at Lowe’s, with Valentine’s Day references, right?). The color is light, too, if not bright yellow–light enough you could perhaps serve it covertly. I’m not saying I’ve done that, but I do live with a man who was born with a whole wheat radar.

I also know that some people would rather skip pasta altogether than eat whole wheat pasta. Not a bad decision. I certainly don’t cook it every time we eat pasta, and when I do it’s not as a replacement for the other dried pastas in my pantry but as something else that I like, too. That’s all I’m saying.

I hesitate a bit when I think about recommending brands here, because I think you can eat well whether you can buy brand X or not. But I’ve never lived that close to a Target store and I’ve always found it worthwhile to stop in when I’m nearby and stock up on this pasta. I’m that lady in the checkout line with eight packages of whole wheat pasta. She’s not crazy, she just really likes the spaghetti.

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Now you know I’m clueless about which pastas go with which sauces, but if you’re looking for something to go with Shredded Beef Ragu, I think this one is not a bad choice.

I know I’m supposed to be craving salads right now, but it’s rather chilly at my house. Hold the hefty side of sugar that has been staple in many of my meals during the past few weeks, but otherwise, a hearty, hot meal still sounds good.

This dish is one of my favorites, and, since my brain is still in vacation mode, I think that’s reason enough to give you the recipe. It’s what I make when I want to stretch a roast–and my cooking effort–into several meals. It’s leftovers you won’t dread. And you could, of course, serve a salad on the side.

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