Aprons. Because No One Wants Cream of Mushroom on Their Pinstripe Trousers

 

Cooking is messy business. This guy knows it. You know it. I know it.

There's not always time for a man to change before supper, and guests arrive whether you want them to or not. Men have two options: risk your good slacks, or put on a gol darn apron. 

According to the container ad above, beer helps ease the shame of apron wearing. (Assuming you can figure out how to get the can open.) 

Some guys aren't into beer. Luckily, Don Draper brought back the glam of cocktails.

LOL, Galliano! I see what you did there!

Julia Child showed us the joys of cooking with wine, and this guy definitely got the memo: 

Not everyone drinks, so this little wifey is ready with an alternative.

Supportive wives are such treasures. They'll even help you tie your apron if you can't quite work out the process.

The wife below looks ready to giggle at hubby's carrot skills.

His trousers might be protected, but pants aren't the only things at risk of smears when men man the stove. This kitchen is a MESS: 

His wife should have tasked him with something significantly less complicated. Smart women start them simple.

Once your man has mastered "just add milk" cooking, he might be ready for actual recipes. In which case, have I got a cookbook for you!

This guy is ready. 

Wine? 

Check. 

BBQ tools? 

Check. 

Tactical apron? 

Check. 

The illustrations in the book are... exceptional. Here's one example:

The dude is salting a rotisserie apple and playing his belly like a drum with a wooden spoon. 

EVERY

WIFE'S

DREAM!

While not wearing an apron per se, he's covering what needs to be covered after making time to take off his trousers.

Let's all take a moment to recognize that aprons are a national treasure. Though in this case, fig leaves should probably get an honorable mention.

Hot Gazpacho à la Alice B. Toklas

I've been reading The Alice B. Toklas Cook Book which I bought a few months ago at an estate sale. I thought the title sounded familiar, but had no idea what I was actually buying.

The book is a fascinating memoir about Alice's life as friend, lover, and aide-de-camp to Gertrude Stein. Each chapter centers around a set of their adventures, transporting medical supplies during war time, wrangling persnickety vehicles named Aunt Pauline and Godiva, and traveling here and there around the Continent and elsewhere. All the stories conclude with a description of a meal they ate on these travels, along with a recipe or two.

There are many interesting things about the book. Alice always refers to her companion as "Gertrude Stein", never as merely Gertrude. Use of punctuation is spotty. Questions are often ended with periods rather than question marks. Recipes are introduced in the middle of sentences. Names like Picasso are dropped in the midst of stories about friends and acquaintances.

I'm not sure how many of the recipes I'll include in this blog. It tends not to be my style of cooking. Most of it is very French, both literally and by my own use of the term, meaning: multi-stepped and fussy. But I did want to include this passage on gazpacho. It concludes a chapter on variations of this cold soup, and was added as a sort of epilogue. She writes:

Senora Marta Brunet, a distinguished Chilean writer, is of Spanish or rather Catalan descent and she describes gazpacho as a meal of the Spanish muleteers. And meal it seems, in this version, rather than soup. These muleteers, she says, carry with them on their journeyings a flat earthenware dish--and garlic, olive, oil, tomatoes and cucumbers, also dry bread which they crumble. Between two stones by the wayside they grind the garlic with a little salt and then add the oil. This mixture is rubbed all round the inside of the earthenware vessel. Then they slice the tomatoes and cucumbers and put alternating layers of each in the dish, interspersing the layers with layers of breadcrumbs and topping off the four tiers with more breadcrubms and more oil. This done and prepared, they take a wet cloth, wrap it round the dish and leave it in a sunny place. The evaporation cooks the contents and when the cloth is dry the meal is ready. Too simple, my dear Watson.

Now I don't claim to be a scientist of any kind. Brain or otherwise. But my understanding of the evaporation process is that it cools, rather than heats. A quick googling confirmed that, and led me to an interesting link about a self-cooling Spanish clay water vessel called a Botijo.

So that leaves me wondering if the word "cooks" in the passage was a typo inflicted during the publishing process, or if Alice simply got the story wrong.

Interesting, no?

This little book is a priceless window into a particular era, social milieu, and personality. Definitely worth the read.

I'm a Convert: Tuttorosso had Me at Hello

I recieved a sample package of tomatoes recently from Tuttorosso, and here's what I found inside:

The box included three kinds of tomatoes, a cleverly designed ergonomic pot holder, several recipe cards, a refrigerator magnet imprinted with useful kitchen information, and a drink koozie.

Why a drink koozie, you may ask?

I don't know. I would think a collapsible wine glass would be more apropos, but perhaps that's just my drink preference talking.

I decided that I'd use the first can for my Tuscan Tomato Soup.

While I chopped an onion, I could hear the green olive oil start to bubble in my favorite vintage enameled pot.

It made a good, hot sound.

I tasted the tomatoes straight out of the can, which I don't usually do. I tend to wait until all the ingredients are in before taking my first sample. Often the tomatoes are tinny or tart, and I worry about how the soup will come out. I've found that the off flavor cooks out with some time. In this case however, the tomatoes were amazing right from the container; fresh, and sweet, the basil florally apparent.

I would have been happy to carry the can to the couch along with a hunk of good bread, and just have at it.

I managed to practice a bit of restraint however, and dumped the can into the kettle, then added the few remaining ingredients. It is a simple concoction of onions, tomatoes, basil, and black pepper. Sometimes I add red wine, but not tonight. Sometimes I add red pepper. Sometimes I finish it with cream.

Once it was all in, I left it on a low simmer and went off to play with one of my Christmas presents. An hour or two later, after a quick whirl with my immersion blender and the addition of more basil, we ate the soup along with a few satisfyingly garlic cheesy cheddar biscuits.

The soup was delicious. It usually is, but as I said, it normally takes time. I'm guessing that with the Tuttorosso tomatoes, it would have been wonderful if I'd merely heated it before whizzing it up.

I still have the can of the sauce, and the can of whole plum tomatoes left. I'm now wishing I'd used the sauce for the soup, and saved the crushed for some sort of tomato and bread concoction. I'm envisioning a cross between panzanella and tomato pudding. Yum!

So yes, I'm a convert. Thanks for the sample pack Tuttorosso! I'll be buying more soon!

Creamy Green Beany Oniony Goodness

One word:

Green bean casserole!

Just a few simple ingredients plus pepper and you are good to go!

Three great tastes that go great together.

Make some for your next holiday gathering. Throw in some chopped water chestnuts or canned mushrooms if you feel the need to switch it up.

But do it. You won't be sorry.

What's For Dinner: Tuscan Tomato Soup

Last night's supper was open faced toasted grilled cheese with homemade tomato soup. The soup is a simple concoction of sauteed onion, crushed and diced canned tomatoes, and lots of basil. Plus pepper.

The tomatoes in this case were pretty acidic, and had to be sweetened with a few tablespoons of sugar.

Simple, satisfying, and delicious.

Cream of Cucumber Soup

I typically think of cucumbers as cool, crisp, and refreshing. Very summery.

But this rich preparation speaks more to cold weather, with it's white sauce, egg yolks, and butter.

Not my cup of soup, but interesting.