Taping Hoops and Making Bread = Perfect Day

I've been away, but now I'm back!  So much has happened in my life since I last blogged that a novella may be necessary.  Who's got time for that (in my best white girl voice)?  So...I started hula hooping just over a year ago and it has changed my life completely.  I was completely happy before I picked up a hoop, and now I am just over the top giddy about life most days....I say most because I am a woman.  So there.  Anyway, hooping has so completely taken over that I now curtail the amount of catering I do based on hoop workshops, gatherings, jams and my own 1/2 hour - 2 hour daily hooping regime.  I'm not quitting the food scene by any means, I'm just trying to find a healthy and happy balance between the three loves of my life.  Yes, I think my husband is a little jealous some days when I spend more time with a little plastic circle than with him.  I am positive he will get over it.

So I was thinking about this all today while enjoying my coffee and reading Nick Malgieri's "Bread" book.  I absolutely love his writing and recipes, and I immediately decided that I wanted to make a loaf a bread (which I haven't done in a long time...shhhh!)  His fennel and black pepper bread really called to me, and then his "quick changes" box at the end of the recipe suggested rosemary instead of fennel and red pepper flakes instead of black pepper.  Now, if you know me, you know my love affair with rosemary.  It's woody, earthy perfume is just what I need on a dreary February day.  I'm torn between the black pepper and red pepper flakes.  I think I will decide when I mix it up.  Best benefit to making bread?  I can tape hoops while letting it rest/rise!!!

I really like Nick Malgieri's  method of mixing, resting, forming, resting, forming again and then resting.  Finally forming into it's final "loaf" stage and then resting once more before it's oven rise.  The dough feels amazing!!

I wanted to open the oven and peek sooo bad, but I behaved and waited until my timer went off and this is what I was rewarded with!!!!

With all the form, rest, form time I had on my hands, I created some unisex looking hoops.  Meaning, come on, Guys....you know you want to hoop.  Check out Baxter....he'll show you how. http://www.hooppath.com/cms/

I think I've had a pretty productive day.  Unless you consider the fact that I was supposed to be cleaning out the pantry.
~J

Cookbook, shmookbook

So Jenn Webb says to me yesterday, she says "You need to write a cookbook."  I replied, "Blech."  And then I repeated it.  Does she not even realize that I haven't blogged in like a bunch of months?  Writing a cookbook would force me to find the post-it notes, napkins and grocery store receipts that I scribbled recipes on.  I would have to actually organize my piles.  And my thoughts.  I would have to pretend I know what I'm doing.  My cover would be blown.  My clients would read the methods for my madness and question why in the world they come to me for nourishment. Don't get me started on the fact that everyone ends up writing a cookbook....washed-up models, singer/song writers, race car drivers, chefs....I mean, do I really need to contribute dishes that have been made and published a hundred times over?  I suppose it would be nice to have all of my tried and true recipes in one mostly organized spot.  But where is the fun in that?  I wouldn't get to spend hours looking for coffee stained 3x5 card with my Bearnaise Sauce recipe on it.  Thrill of the hunt, right?  So don't hold your breath waiting for my cookbook.  I'm working on becoming a washed-up model first.
~J

Commodore's Cocktail Party Food Porn

Okay, so I admit that I completely suck at disciplining myself.  I should sit down every single day for at least ten minutes and talk about all the food I make everyday.  But I don't because I would rather waste a bunch of time on FB and drink a lot of wine.  True story.

So way back in July, we catered the Port Huron Yacht Club Commodore's Cocktail Party.  It's on Boat Night, the evening before the Port Huron to Mackinac Sailboat Race.  About 500 invitations go out, meaning 1,000 people could show up.  They never do, but we still do about 400+ people.  Please mind the word "Cocktail Party".  Appetizers.  Hors d'oeuvres.  Finger food.  Small bites.  Pain in the Ass.  Whatever you call them, we had to make a shit ton of them.  Don't get me wrong...appetizers are probably my favorite thing to make.  It just so happened to be the hottest week of the year when we had to make thousands of pieces of food for a lot of people.

This party was FUN!  We set up tables full of food downstairs in the club, and also upstairs where they are also making Hummers.  People wait outside in line to great the Rear Commodore, the Vice Commodore, and finally the Commodore.  People have a routine....bar for drinks, grab as much food as possible, and then head upstairs to get hummers.  By the time the line is gone, and everyone is inside, the downstairs is like a ghost town, while upstairs is PACKED.  It's a fight just to refill the food.

It reminded me of working on the farm.  You'd be bringing hay out to the horses in the pen.  One would lift it's head, and signal to the others in horse talk:  FOOOOOD!!!  And then the stampede ensued.  They were out of cocktail sauce upstairs.  I grabbed three big bowls and mixed some up.  Taking two stairs at a time, I arrive to find masses of people blocking my path.  I hold the bowls over my head.  Then I see it.  A head pops up, sees me and shouts "COCKTAIL SAUCE!".  Like the parting of the Red Sea, a path is cleared, and as I set the bowls down, the crowd attacks it like the horses and the hay.  I'm surprised no one got kicked or nipped at.

Don't mess with hungry buzzed people.  I had a smile on my face the whole time I was trying to refill the Sausage, Pretzel and Mustard tasting board.  It was forced as a red-faced gentleman started grabbing food off my tray before I could even get it onto the board for others.  He raised a sausage my way.  Nice.
All in all, it was a great party.  We spend 6 months planning for it, and in an hour and a half, the food is gone, the people are drunk, and I cannot wait to get home to bed.  It really doesn't sink in for a few days that it is over and done.

I ended up with heat exhaustion that night after the party.  I was hallucinating that "the trees won't let me get better" and then I started crying and pacing the floor.  My husband threatened "Hospital" so I lay down and let him cover me with Ice pacs, cold towels, and I think some frozen carrots.  My temp came down, and I was able to sleep a couple of hours at a time.  I finally got out of bed about 4pm the next day.

But here's the thing about being in the food business.  If they ask me to do it again next year, I will.  With bells on.  It's a sickness, and I don't mind having it.  My husband doesn't get it.  He should.  He's a musician.  With a lot of musical crap that they have to set up and take down every time they play out.  It's basically the same thing.  I guess it's the same with anything you are passionate about.  You'll do whatever it takes, time and time again, even if it kicks your ass, and kicks it hard.  Because you love it, and can't imagine doing anything else.

Honestly, I hope we do get asked to do this party again next year.  And I hope they want something completely different so I am challenged again.  It's a great time with a bunch of people I love to feed time and time again.

I love this pic my husband took....you can see the sweat on the shrimp tub.  And, of course, my dad's amazing smoked salmon.  It's rare we do a party without his salmon.  It is Just. That. Great.  And then there is this one:

The Man and His Fish.  I love this one.  So for now, I will put away my notes on the cocktail party and focus on the weddings and Christmas gigs we have coming up.  But I love to look through these pictures and think back on a very long, very gratifying day.

I hope you enjoyed the pics.  I'm getting hungry, how about you? 
~J

Market Daze

Saturdays are my favorite day of the week, and it's because I have to work.  No, really.  I am a baked goods vendor at the Vantage Point Flower/Farmer's Market in Port Huron, Michigan.  We wrapped up our second Saturday yesterday, and I have to say that I am beginning to adore meeting all the people that come out to shop, browse, or just take in the view of the St. Clair River.  My first love is definitely prepping and baking all week, trying to guess how much to make of every baked good, from Cranberry Walnut Bread to decorated sugar cookies in the shapes of Sailboats, Lighthouses, and Poppies.  Breads seem to be the hit right now, even though we have 3 to 4 vendors who sell bread each week.  Thankfully, we all sell a different  variety, and even if we didn't the competition helps us all.  I also sell Pasties.  Liz, the Market Master, e-mailed me over the winter and asked if I made them.  I think at that point I had made them once, just trying to see what the big deal was.  I mean, in Michigan, if you barely mention "Pasty", you get heads turning, people sucking in their breath and questions of who, where, when, how much, and "Are they real U.P. Pasties?".  I told Liz I would make some and see how it went.  First week of market, a beautiful sunny day, I sold out by Noon.  I was speechless.  I knew that people would be excited, but selling out?  So when yesterday's market came around, I was hoping for the same thing.  Little did I know I'd learn a lesson and get even more pumped about making a pasty.

As with most markets, people are "just looking".  I'm cool with that because I am a learning this ability.  I am currently in therapy with my own self to realize it is perfectly acceptable to enter a store and leave without purchasing anything.  This might be one of the hardest things I have ever done since quitting smoking, and I actually cried and broke things during the first month of being smoke-free.  Thank goodness there haven't been any "quitting lookers" so far, since I have glass dishes full of granola that would be really fun to shatter on the cement in front of my tent if that person was craving.

A group of lookers was passing by, checking out Mindy's wares.  Mindy is my market neighbor who has a herd of Bison, and sells their meat in various forms.  It is simply amazing meat.  More amazing is Mindy's talent for carving Bison bones.  I didn't take pics of these, but next week I will and I will definitely share and get more of Mindy's story.  Back to the lookers....one broke out of the pack and wandered over to my table.  She immediately turned to an older gentleman and said "Dad, she's got Pasties!".  The gentleman carefully made his way over, left ear hearing aid caught in my quick glance.  He said to me "My mother used to make 500 Pasties in half a day for the concession stand we worked."  My mouth dropped open.  "500. Half a day?", I said.  "Yup, and she charged 15 cents each.  One time she made some smaller ones and charged 10 cents.  Folks like the bigger ones, though."  His large grin was infectious, and his tale was reeling me in.  His right eye watered from the cold, or the memories, but I couldn't tell which.  He went on to tell me he liked being in the back, peeling potatoes, making as many as 5 or more deliveries of Pasties a day to the concession stand.  He winked as he mentioned we would drop off the pasties and then sneak into the carnival.  His son made his way over, letting me know they were from Marquette, so their pasties were "The Original".  The gentleman told me his son still makes them today, and I blushed with jealousy, and then hoped they wouldn't buy my "down state" pasty made by a German mutt.  I told the gentleman I envied the legacy the family had, and he smiled wide and puffed out his chest a bit.  He realized the group had gotten a bit ahead in the market, so we bid farewell, and I expressed by gratitude for meeting him and his story.  He winked and walked away slowly, thinking, I'm sure, of all those pasties his mother made in a different time and place.  I can guarantee I will think of him and of his mother every time I prep my pasties.  How could I not?  I can guarantee I will remember the 50-ish gentleman speed walker with the much too short shorts who makes his way by all of our tents.  Bonus!
~J

Liar, Liar...Food on Fire

Yeah, so.....I know I posted a promise to blog, but I lied.  I'm sorry, and I hope you can forgive me.  I honestly don't know how people can blog every single day.  I guess I could throw some crap down and post it, and I'm not saying that is what everyone does, but if I don't have something I think is really worth telling, then I really don't think you want to waste your time reading it.  Agreed?  So, am I forgiven?  Good.  Now that we have that out of the way, I promise to blog tomorrow.
~J

Promise

I promise to blog about the Spatchcocked Chicken we are making tonight on the grill.  I do not have it in me tonight.  Need to get outside and enjoy the sunshine while it wants to grace us.  Come back tomorrow and check it out, please!
~J

Because I Said So

My 93 year old Grandmother, lovingly called Ma, gets frustrated with me when I tell her "Everybody is different".  I think she wants me to agree with her that so-and-so shouldn't be doing this-and -that, and so-and-so's husband doesn't like this, isn't he crazy?  I usually try to sit on the fence, because deep down, I hate confrontation.  I don't like arguments, and raised voices chill my blood and make my stomach sick.  Staying neutral, like some countries, has worked for me in most instances.  I have my beliefs and morals, but I don't always feel it necessary to make them known.  Go ahead and be a moron with unrealistic beliefs and notions.  I will just sit here and smile.  Good for you.  You go.  Away.
Fence Sitter I am not when it comes to food.  How can someone not like Onions, I ask, appalled completely.  And too much garlic...WHAT?!?!  Stop the press, hold all my calls and someone get that cat out of here.  I don't think I am actually physically able to cook without onions and garlic.  And lots of them.  My husband hasn't said anything about the abundance of onions and garlic so far, and even if he did, I would most likely correct him.  See, that non-confrontational person actually likes to dabble in a little argument here and there with the husband.  It must be a married thing.  No raised voices, just a little nag and rib here and there.  No harm done and no upset stomach. 
So on that note, I am making a little soup I call "Buncha".  Buncha this, Buncha that and Vi-ola...dinner.  It is a little bit of everything my husband likes....green beans, hot Italian sausage, potatoes, pasta.  And then a lotta onions and garlic.  He'll like it.  Or else.

Buncha Soup

2 Tbs. butter
1 Tbs. olive oil
1 rib celery, chopped*
1 medium carrot, chopped*
1/2 # extra small mixed new potatoes
3 cloves garlic, mashed with 1/2 tsp. salt to make a paste
handful green beans cleaned and cut into 1" pieces
1 medium red or yellow onion, chopped*
1 tsp. each dried rosemary and thyme
13 twists of a pepper grinder
1 Hot Italian Sausage, casing removed
1/3 cup Orzo pasta
32 oz. homemade or *gasp* store bought beef broth
1 1/2 cups h2o
Splash V8 juice or 1 chopped tomato - optional

*I leave my carrot unpeeled...I like the rustic look.  I also take the ends I chop off of any carrots and celery, and the skins of the onions, and put them in a bag in the freezer labeled "For Stock".  When I make any kind of stock, this gets thrown in.

Add butter and oil to a 6 qt. heavy pot.  Add celery, carrot, onion, potato, and green beans to pot.  Saute for 5 minutes.  Add garlic, herbs and pepper.  Mush up hot Italian sausage with your fingers and add to pot, breaking up more with wooden spoon as you combine everything together.  Cook for 2 minutes, stirring.  Add Orzo pasta, stir, and let toast up and soak up flavors 1 minute.  Cook 2 more minutes, moving it around.  Add beef broth and water and over medium heat, bring to just a boil.  Reduce heat and let simmer until potatoes are soft and flavor is to your likey (add V8 or tomatoes now if you are using). Stir occasionally so pasta doesn't stick to bottom of pot. Serves one hungry man with a little for lunch another day.
Enjoy!
J~