Will You Ever Forgive Me?
If you’ve grown tired of cheese posts, you may as well stop right here. Because while I may ask your forgiveness, I’m not going to apologize for this small cheese bender I’ve been on lately. I see cheese, it looks interesting, I buy it. Simple as that.
Last week I went in search of cheese, blue cheese to be exact. But the cheese hunt was a by-product of a dinner plan that had subliminally taken hold of my mind. I had just seen an episode of “The Pioneer Woman” and in that specific show she was throwing a birthday party with a burger bar. And on that burger bar there were caramelized onions and blue cheese. There were other ingredients too, like bacon, but I decided that a family dinner didn’t require the same degree of crazy as a surprise birthday party. So the bacon, surprisingly, didn’t make it on my menu. Oh, but back to the blue cheese. I know exactly where the blue cheese is located in the large Whole Foods cheese case. Important details like that don’t escape me. If I was introduced to you for the first time, it might take a few meetings for me to remember your name, but I could find the blue cheese in that case while blindfolded.
As I began to consider my many options, gorgonzola, roquefort, saga blue (OH MY GOODNESS, saga blue and I have a long term love affair), I spotted a new variety of blue called Moody Blues. Truly, there was no reason for that cheesemaker to attempt to be cute with the name because that cheese was memorable all on its own. It was a smoked blue cheese that has a great balance between the sharp, pungent flavor of the blue and the smokiness that infuses it. I couldn’t wait for dinner that evening. I caramelized the onions, prepared the burgers and asparagus for grilling, and then pulled out the Moody Blues for crumbling. I told Louisa to wait, but she couldn’t resist picking on it before we sat down. I really couldn’t blame her – once she had opened the wrapper, there was no turning back. Whoa – lovin’ it with no apologies
Tomorrow we’ll return to our regularly scheduled blog, there’s no cheese on the menu tonight.
Best Intentions
At the beginning of spring break, Annie asked if she could make our dinner on one of the nights. I rarely (meaning never!) turn down a request like this from the girls. Well, maybe I would discourage it if the kitchen had just been cleaned and was still at the sparkly, shiny stage. But since it’s a rare occurrence when the alignment of those clean kitchen and daughter-cooking-impulse planets align, I rarely have to say no to a well-intentioned daughter.
I’m not sure why Annie wanted to cook, but just like I rarely turn down a request, I rarely question a good intention. She didn’t have any particular dish in mind, so I told her to find a recipe from one of the million food magazines or cookbooks I keep in the kitchen. She turned to one of her favorites in my collection, “Love at First Bite, the Unofficial Twilight Cookbook.” She found a recipe for Spaghettini Primavera and I purchased the ingredients for her when I shopped last week. We had decided that Friday would be the best night for her to cook this dinner. We didn’t have any big plans that day which would get her home late with little time left to cook. She could have spent all day cooking, if she had wanted.
When Friday evening rolled around Annie began pulling out the ingredients, but she didn’t seem too excited to be cooking. I’m sure she had become involved in something else that she would have rather continued than mess around in the kitchen. But she never complained as she chopped and fried the peppers and the garlic, added the canned tomatoes, cooked the sausage, boiled the spaghettini, and put it all together. Because she intended to cook dinner that night, and that’s what she accomplished for us. In fact, the whole experience reminded me of myself on those nights when I begin to cook a dinner that seemed like a good idea when I chose it, but realize too late that the project is bigger than my energy level. Yep, kind of like I feel many nights of the week. Oh well, if nothing else, Annie and I share the best intentions and we all shared in a good dinner that evening.
Pancetta Wrapped Pork Roast for Easter
I was thinking about making grilled baby lamb chops on Easter because lamb is very Easter-y and I love grilled chops. I also considered digging out a delicious veal roast recipe that I had made a long time ago. But Louisa wouldn’t permit either option because, according to my otherwise meat-loving daughter, we can’t eat baby animals. We have to wait until they’ve become old and unlovable before putting an end to their lives for our selfish human pleasure. I wonder what age Joe and I will have to hit before she decides that we too are unlovable, and it’s okay to pull the plug on us.