Smart Girls, Dumb Food.

Making the Most of Your Groceries

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Wed, 14 Nov 2012 05:49:00 +0000

Because rotten tomatoes are only helpful in a movie review context.

There's that stereotype that college kids are so messy or lazy or whatever that they live in a ever-growing pile of dirty laundry and rotten food. While probably true of some, this is mostly an unfair generalization.

But that doesn't mean that we don't end up buying food that goes bad before we can use it.

Our friend Orangina asked for our input. Since grocery shopping is actually something we're usually good at, I'll oblige. But check out our upcoming "Empty Fridge Chronicles" to see what happens when things go wrong.

1) PLANNING

We actually sit down at some point early in the week and plan out our meals days in advance. I know that's a pain, but it pretty much eliminates rot-potential, and ensures that we eat every day.

When we're planning out our weekly menu we try to avoid two things:

First, recipes that make you buy a lot of stuff that is expensive and you have no other use for. Like raw chia seeds. That stuff is for growing pets, but cool-sounding vegans think it's for everything.

Friend, not food.

Second, ingredients that are sold in large quantities that we can only use in small amounts. Say a recipe calls for scallions. You probably only need one or two. But no one is going to sell you two scallions, so you'll end up with fifteen scallions getting all slimy and gross in the back of your fridge.

Point is, stick to versatile ingredients, or you'll end up with lots of weird leftovers.

2) FRIENDS

If you can, find someone to split groceries with. It's really hard for one person to finish a quart of milk by themselves before it goes bad, unless you really like milk.

3) LONG-LASTING STAPLES

I am so entertained that this exists.

Pretend there's a zombie apocalypse. What foods would you grab?

Bean and I would probably grab quesadilla shells, oatmeal, some cheese, onions, cans of black beans, cans of crushed tomatoes, rice, frozen broccoli, and pasta.

These are things you can just have. You don't have to worry about using them right away, which makes them perfect emergency food for those nights when you don't know what else to make.

MORAL OF THE STORY

Don't let this happen to you.

Plan when you can. Have a stockpile of tasty, non-perishable things that you know how to cook for when you can't.

And the Salem Witch trials happened because the girls were tripping on moldy rye, so don't risk that three week old sandwich, please.

Chicken and Broccoli Over A TON of Rice

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Mon, 05 Nov 2012 04:52:00 +0000

Chicken and Broccoli: simple and delicious.
We're still no good at taking pictures of food.

Stir frying is the seminal collegiate cooking technique. All you do is throw vegetation and maybe some meat in a pan. Thing is, warm vegetables over rice, or warm vegetables soaked in soy sauce over rice, can get old. Bean and I decided to venture out into some uncharted territory.

In the Madison County Price Chopper, there is an aisle labeled 'MEXICAN.' In this aisle, there is a section called 'RICE.' In this section, there is very little rice, but there are lots of bottles and jars full of things like Szechuan sauce, Thai Chile paste, water chestnuts, and those weird little corns.

Inspired, we decided to attempt a version of Chicken and Broccoli.

TRIUMPHS

1) It starts the way all of our best meals do: with some onions in a pan. Sorry we're not sorry, onions are good.

So simple!
Such a large onion:chicken ratio!

2) If you cut up chicken into little strips and throw them in with the onions, they cook quickly and become super tasty.

Nug as an old dude with a beard.

3) Broccoli. Here is a truth for you: I used to hate broccoli. When I ate at friends' houses, I would tell their parents I was allergic so I wouldn't have to eat it.

Now I just feel silly about that, because it's one of the world's greatest vegetables. Bring on the broc!

4) THE PURCHASE OF THE MONTH AWARD GOES TO ...

House of Tsang Szechuan Spicy Stir Fry Sauce

Our first stir fry ever tasted exactly like chicken soup because all we had was soy sauce, and somehow that just tasted like salt. We solved this problem by getting some of this stuff. It's spicy, tangy, and all around magical. And definitely won't remind anyone of soup. Thanks House of Tsang!

5) You just combine all of these things in a frying pan (add the sauce slowly and taste as you go -- that stuff's powerful) and you're pretty much done.

STRUGGS WITH NUGS

Rice.

Rice is the only thing in this recipe that requires math. The key is to remember that one cup of dry rice does not equal one cup of cooked rice. In fact, one cup of dry rice equals three cups of cooked rice.

So if you were to, say, add one cup of rice for you, one for your buddy, and one for leftovers, you would be an idiot because you just made nine cups of rice.

Do I look sorry here?

I was way sorrier by the end of the week.

MORAL OF THE STORY

Stir frying is easy, and if you buy a mysterious bottle of sauce it becomes way more exciting. Obviously we don't know how to make actual Chicken and Broccoli, but we did use those two ingredients in a dish that tastes good. Just be sure to read the directions on your rice, okay?

"Guilt-Free" Homemade Potato Chips

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Wed, 31 Oct 2012 18:01:00 +0000

Okay, to be clear, these potato chips are exactly as fatty and unhealthy as almost any other chip. They are only "guilt-free" because they're made by you and not a factory. But it's okay. You were going to eat them anyway, and at least these don't have chemicals.

Remember that time that Bean and I made potatoes? Well, we didn't either. So we had a giant bag of leftover potatoes that had been sitting around for we're not sure how long.

They looked kind a funky and felt distinctly soft.
So obviously, all systems go.

The only logical option to make snacks.

We must cook more ... dramatically.

PROCESS

We based our efforts off of those chronicled here, but as usual this experiment was necessarily conducted in our own particular idiom.

First we removed all of the eyes.
They are a fun purple color.

Struggles with notions of uniformity have
always been a part of college life.
Also, dull knives.

Let 'em soak for 30 mins.

At this point, you could try baking the chips. But either way you're slathering them in oil. So you might as well maximize your deliciousness potential and fry those suckers.

We don't have a kitchen thermometer, so there's a lot of guesswork from here on out. Bottom line, get your oil hot, but nothing should be smoking. You can test by flicking some water at it -- if it seethes and spits you're probably good.

You want things to kind of bubble and shimmer.

Scoop them out when they're a little brown and crispy.

Then you transfer your spuds to pans lined with paper towels. Try to blot some of the oil off and then season them while they're hot.

SEASONING

SALTY/SPICY

SWEET

We made two kinds of chips: cinnamon sugar and spicy. Cinnamon sugar is self-explanatory, but our spicy mixture was a combination of salt, paprika, and dark chili powder.

The difference between dark chili powder and regular chili powder? Color, obviously.

The spicy mixture took some trial and error to get the ratios right, so now we have extra. We plan on using it to season popcorn or maybe chicken.

We contemplated putting the chips into ziploc bags and shaking things around to coat them, but things were getting pretty steamy in there so we decided to sprinkle seasoning on instead, which worked well.

MISTAKES WE MADE SO YOU WON'T HAVE TO

1) Those thicker chips? Make sure you put some kind of savory seasoning on them. Their residual potatoeyness tastes super weird with cinnamon sugar. With the spicy seasoning, they were just awesome french fries.

2) Hot oil is hot. Even if there are no flames under it. So when you are trying to get rid of it like responsible adults by pouring it back into the plastic container before throwing it out, this will happen:

You just bottled cancer.

MORAL OF THE STORY

All that time we spent standing and chopping had to have counted for something. If you're going to eat potato chips, you might as well earn them.

Nug Gets Exotic with Super Food

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Mon, 29 Oct 2012 04:16:00 +0000

Pasta with swiss chard, white beans, and walnuts.
Weird or worth eating?
Questions answered below!

I've been reflecting on my college experience and I've come to this conclusion: juniors compare family recipes like freshman compare regional accents. Thankfully, junior year epiphanies go beyond "huh, that's weird," and are the key to broadening your culinary horizons, expanding your recipe repertoire, and opening doors to newfound realms of tastiness.

It even looks like alien food.

Case in point, swiss chard.

Until Bean and I started cooking together, swiss chard was something that happened on Food Network. But in the Bean household, it's standard fare.

Bean introduced me to swiss chard through Spaghetti with Swiss Chard, White Beans, and Walnuts. However, the Pasta + Beans + Greens formula can be adapted to fit the contents of any pantry.

Don't like white beans? How about black beans or chickpeas? Less exotic greens you could try? Bean says kale, spinach, and escarole.

So, spinach, right guys? Because I don't know what the other two taste like either. But you should try swiss chard because it's both Christmas-colored and delicious.

Regardless, you have garlic and red pepper flakes to make things as tasty and spicy as you want. The possibilities are endless. And you're combining all of the super foods. Get crazy with it.

Triumphs

1) This recipe only has five ingredients. Four, really, because the walnuts are technically optional.

Here are three of them.

2) It's easy.

You sautee some garlic in olive oil, and then you let the chard cook down until it's dark green and tender, like sauteed spinach. Having a pan with a lid will expedite this process. We don't have a lid, but we overcame that obstacle with great aplomb.

Our college education at work.

Tada!

Next, dump in the white beans and walnuts. Season with salt, pepper, and red pepper flakes. It probably makes sense to start cooking your pasta around now.

We'll pretend steam made this photo blurry.

Then just combine everything in your pan, slosh in some pasta water to make everything a little saucy and top it with parmesan! Easy and yum!

Potential Pitfalls

We all know my hands often become damaged. Chard presents a particular risk while chopping, because while you're tamping down its leafy mane it's difficult to see your fingers.

The second spot of bother, however, was definitely my fault.

Do not be taken in by this image's artistic wiles.

It was way more like this
than Lady and the Tramp.

I like the way spaghetti looks sticking out of the pot, and it's fun to watch it slide into the water as it softens. I am easily entertained. The result of this? Super long pasta that is difficult to eat.

So just break your pasta in half before boiling it and get your kicks by looking at some fall foliage instead.

Overall Marks

O for Outstanding. Here's why.

Your alternative to swiss chard? Slaying a unicorn.
And that is a monstrous thing.

Yes, it's fast and delicious. But it's also really healthy. Beans have protein, which is probably something we don't get enough of in our frugal, meatless lives.

Also, swiss chard is apparently some kind of super vegetable that enables you to live forever without sacrificing your soul.

All in all, this makes me glad I have Bean as my cooking friend. And if you don't have friends, Bean and I are here for you. Virtually. Or in spirit. Or whatever.

Manicotti: Italian for Sleeves, Nugspeak for Home

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Thu, 25 Oct 2012 01:05:00 +0000

Some weeks at college, you just really want to go home.

Sometimes just I want to be a baby with
a snuggy and manicotti.

Maybe you have seven papers in as many days or your roommate gave you fleas, but for me it's usually when 1) I'm sick, or 2) the dining hall was especially depressing.

My solution -- manicotti. Just saying "manicotti" conjures up memories of birthdays and holidays filled with cheesy, saucy goodness.

For those of you not familiar with manicotti, it's basically a lasagna burrito. That sounds super gross, so I'll just explain.

CREPES

So glad the house has a whisk.

Your average manicotti uses pasta as a wrapper. We use crepes because they're much lighter, which is key when you're eating something that is essentially a sleeve of cheese.

The batter is easy: four eggs, a cup of flour and a cup of milk, all whisked together. The tricky part is spreading the batter around the bottom of a pan.

It's hard to take a picture with one hand. But this is the general idea.
It's a tip/swirling motion.

Finito (Is that Italian?)

I know this seems scary, but the whole process only took me fifteen minutes. Be bold.

FILLING

16 oz ricotta, half a block of part-skim mozzarella cheese (grated), a few shakes of parmesan, an egg, salt, pepper.

Cheese on cheese on cheese.

ASSEMBLY

Put little blobby on his bed

Tuck the covers over his toes ... and face.

Then completely engulf him.
(I turned him ninety degrees on the cutting board. Don't get confused.)

I put them in a pan and popped 'em in the fridge, and was all prepared for a super easy dinner. All that was left to do was make some sauce (see Nugget and Bean Make a Big Italian Mess) to go on top.

But then --

COLLEGIATE CURVEBALL

When Bean and I got home, six million freshman were making pizzas covered in weird stuff. And they had the oven on at 500 degrees, which is a way higher temp than needed for manicotti. But we didn't want to wait because our friend Orangina was coming over.

Solution? Super-quick inferno manicotti.

This confirms my suspicion that oven temperatures are more like guidelines than rules.

SIDENOTE -- STALE BREAD

It looks like a severed pig head. But it isn't.

Bean and I bought sun-dried tomato/basil bread at the farmers' market. And then we forgot.

To resurrect our carby friend, we sliced it, jammed butter down the cracks, sprinkled the loaf with water, wrapped it in tinfoil, and stuck the whole shebang in the oven.

We were rewarded with soft, buttery, edible bread.

OVERALL MARKS

E for Exceeds Expectations -- I think it's really an O, but the sauce we use isn't quite up to my fam's standards. I'm working on it. Other than that, it's really everything you could want in a cozy, homey Italian meal. Such an under-appreciated, under-used dish.

Pizza Pizzazz

noreply@blogger.com (Claire) — Wed, 24 Oct 2012 03:40:00 +0000

Blog readers, I have a confession to make: we have been holding out on you. I know you thought that we faithfully updated you on all our culinary adventures, and days we didn't post were days (or weeks) when we simply did not eat. But the truth is, we've been hiding an important part of our diet from you: the over-abundance of pizza.

The pizza that started it all.

In all its crappy cell phone photo glory.

It was a delicious homemade pizza that first prompted Domsicle to suggest that we start a blog. Since then, it has been one of our most reliable standbys. Now that we've developed a relationship of trust with you, blog readers, we're ready to share.

Step One: Assemble Ingredients.

Pizza: A still life.

A big block of fresh mozzarella, frozen between uses.
A quick batch of pizza sauce, made ahead and frozen.
Dough.
Fancy toppings (aka whatever's in the fridge). We've used basil, eggplant, and leftover broccoli rabe, but the possibilities are really limitless.

$1!

We are very lucky that the local pizzeria, Slices, will sell us a large pizza dough for a dollar. However, if this isn't an option for you, frozen pizza doughs can also be reliable and delicious.

Step Two: Nugget's Pizza Magic

Less impressive.

Impressive technique.

If you made or bought a fresh pizza dough, you can emulate Nugget by stretching it out, and then laying it on a pizza pan greased with olive oil. Add your sauce, cheese, and other toppings, and then pop it on the oven at 500 degrees for 8-10 minutes.

Or you can take my usual role in this process and frantically read for your 7 PM class while your friend makes you a pizza. Thanks, Nugget!

Step 3: Enjoy!

Weekday Breakfast: Make it Portable

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Thu, 11 Oct 2012 04:53:00 +0000

The perfect A.M. sustenance.

If breakfast is the most important meal of the day, I am screwed. I never wake up early enough, so my body is lucky if it gets a handful of dry Cheerios on my way out the door. Breakfast bars would be a good option, but they're expensive.

And they're not a "balanced breakfast" either. For that, you need three different beverages, pancakes, eggs, cereal, fruit, bats, orangutans -- it's not going to happen for a college student on the go.

Bean and I stumbled on the solution: the Banana Oatmeal Cups from GreenLite Bites. We've been calling them Breakfast Bites, and they have revolutionized our breakfast experience. By which I mean, I now eat breakfast.

The great thing about Breakfast Bites is that they are tasty, and have all the components of a healthy oatmeal breakfast, but they're portable.

Meet oats, eggs, and milk.

Mushed up bananas,

The recipe seems pretty forgiving, too. We didn't have almond milk, so I just dumped in some brown sugar with the regular milk. Also, I totally forgot the baking soda until I'd already started dishing the batter into the cupcake pan. Then I had to scrape it all back into the bowl to stir in the baking soda. My residual Chem 101 knowledge tells me this should have been bad.

I sympathize.

But everything was still fine. Scrumptious even. A whole breakfast in one non-messy, portable "muffin."

OVERALL MARKS

E for Exceeds Expectations -- I was worried that these would be overly dense and bland, but, while weighty and subtly flavored, they are perfect for the kind of people who prefer oatmeal to Fruit Loops. As Bean said, "they don't taste strongly of any one thing, they just taste like breakfast."

They keep really well too. So you can make them on Sunday and hit snooze for the rest of the week with impunity because you have breakfast covered.

Also, they are best friends with Nutella. And any friend of Nutella's is a friend of mine.

Real College Students Eat Quiche

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Wed, 10 Oct 2012 02:21:00 +0000

Bean and I are class acts.

You might be thinking there's no way I could pull off something as fancy as quiche. It's French. People question its masculinity. It's got that weird Q thing going on.

If your thinking ends there, you've probably only experienced quiche in some shmancy cafe, or you've had one of those curdled little Starbucks nightmares. Which is a shame, because there is nothing as lusciously cheesy and satisfying as homemade quiche.

Come on. If sleepy Nuggets can do it, anyone can.

Me telling Bean how I really feel.

So here's the story. Last week I had way less work than Bean, so I was in charge of meals.

What this actually means is that I cooked alone. In a cold, empty kitchen.

Trust me, domestic looks as just scary on me
as it does on her.

As it turns out, a lonely Nugget is a scarily enthusiastic, overachieving Nugget.

I even started getting up early(ish) to do strategic prep work to expedite our evening cooking. I embraced domesticity.

When this happens to a girl, she starts making one-pan meals.

All kidding aside, quiche is a good recipe to have in your bag of tricks. Like my 50s sisters' casseroles, quiche is a basic method that can be a vehicle for just about anything.

CRUST

I start by making a pie crust (as seen in None of the Parents, All of the Pie). You could buy a frozen one from the supermarket, but homemade pie crusts are so much tastier.

SPINACH

Bad news -- I had the Grim.

Wash the whole bag. Microwave it to get rid of some of the water. If you don't, the leaves will float to the top and become as crisp as autumn leaves, which is gross in a food.

Spinach on cheese on crust.

CHEESE

Eating quiche is your chance to eat way more cheese than is socially acceptable. Six ounces of any semi-hard cheese (so cheddar, swiss, monterey jack) will do.

FILLING

Ingredients:
1 1/2 cups of half and half (it's decadent, not healthy)
3 eggs
1/2 tsp salt
dash of pepper
dash of nutmeg

The easiest and fastest way to combine these ingredients is in a blender or food processor, but we don't have either of those. I've done so much whisking already this year I'll have forearms like a rock climber by graduation.

I did a really great job of sloshing quiche guts everywhere at this point.

Then you bake it at 375 for about 45 minutes (until it's puffed across the top), and you're done.

OVERALL MARKS

O for Outstanding -- Delicious, and microwaves really well if you make it ahead of time.

Bonus: it's an entire meal in an exciting pie-shape.

It's worth it to go look up recipes for some favorite "fancy" meals -- some of them are probably as simple as quiche. Plus, trying something new adds a taste of accomplishment to each bite, and it will feel special and exciting.

Also, people will think you're impressive.

It's definitely not poor lighting that makes this picture glow.
It's quiche's pure, unadulterated swag.

Maple and Brown Sugar Squash

noreply@blogger.com (Claire) — Tue, 09 Oct 2012 05:41:00 +0000

Photo Credit: Nugget. I wish I were as cool as she is.
Look at the artistry.

Blog readers, October has begun. And you all know what that means - midterms. Last week was a crazy whirl of schoolwork. Nugget kept me alive by making most of our meals (hooray for dinner buddies!), but I was completely useless.

However, there was one recipe that I was able to manage: acorn squash with brown sugar and maple syrup. This meal was always a favorite of my dad's, so I knew I wanted to make it at least once this fall. I know we've thrown a lot of squash at you on this blog, but if you're not convinced yet, this recipe WILL make you a believer!

It takes 5 minutes to prepare, and sits innocently in the oven for an hour while you study. When it's done, it's delicious, filling, perfectly portioned, and fun to eat! Not to mention, it belongs to that noble, hallowed group of recipes that make vegetables taste like dessert. What more could a college student ask for?

Process:
I used this recipe as a point of reference, but it's really as simple as simple can be. I cut the squash in half (that part was actually a bit tricky with the incredibly dull knives that plague our kitchen), scooped out the seeds, and pierced a few small holes around the outside. I put them in a pan with some water in the bottom to steam up and help the squash cook through.

Cleanup was also minimal, thanks to our good friend
aluminum foil. What a hero.

Next, I scooped a pat of butter, a spoon of brown sugar, and a (heaping) dollop of maple syrup into each one, put them in the oven at 400 degrees, and went back to studying for my history midterm. The whole process took 5 minutes. An hour later, they were done! Easy as that!

Result: O for Outstanding!
The squash was ready minutes after Nugget got back from work. We added some craisins for a little tartness, which worked even better than we expected. Walnuts also pair well with this, if you've got 'em. We scraped all the squash away from the skin and mixed it up to distribute the buttery sugar-syrup throughout, which was just plain fun to do. When we took our first bite of sweet squashy goodness, all of our troubles melted away. We transcended our daily routine and entered a new plane of existence, where vegetables taste like candy and hot meals take only minutes to put together.

In summation: stop what you're doing. Go buy a squash. You know you want to.

Be Your Own Dining Hall: Make Breakfast

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Tue, 02 Oct 2012 01:56:00 +0000

Bet you didn't know it was a literary reference.

Confession: I miss the myth of the dining hall breakfast. You were out late the night before, it's about 11:30 AM, you've gathered enough consciousness to form thoughts, and your first thought is breakfast. Which is fine because you live three feet from an endless supply of Belgian waffles.

Why is it a myth, you ask?

Because there's a huge difference between expectation and reality.

Here's the expectation:

Magic. Honeydukes level magic.

But reality bears a way bigger resemblance to this:

I'm sure he's a very nice man.

This weekend, however, Bean, Grape and I decided to attempt to close that gap and make our very own ultimate college breakfast.

If you're not feeling inspired yet, here's a photo montage to get you going. Because breakfast is a morning thing, and shouldn't require words.

1) Potatoes.

Grape chops 'em.

I make a weird face and sautee onions and peppers.

We microwaved 'em. Spoiler: they weren't cooked through.

Combine in the wok.
Further microwaving required. Freaking spuds.

2) Scrambled eggs. See Brinner for why I refuse to photograph that process.

3) Beans on Toast.

We could offer you an explanation as to why beans and toast made it into our otherwise normal American breakfast. But that would disrupt the photo montage, so:

Beans.

Toast.

When all was said and done, it was everything you could want in a college weekend breakfast: starch, dairy, starch, starch, dairy and starch. Yes, it required more effort than holding out a tray does, but it actually tasted good. And there wasn't a questionably clean fellow student in sight. Take that, dining hall.

This breakfast exceeded expectations.

LET THE RECORD SHOW:

Grape found the best thing on the internet.

A CALL TO ARMS:

Let all upperclassmen readers of this blog come forth and answer this question:

What do you miss most about your dining hall?

If you tell us in the comments, we'll take it as a challenge for the next installment of our "Be Your Own Dining Hall" series.

Also, what is your favorite color?

None of the Parents, All of the Pie

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Thu, 27 Sep 2012 05:05:00 +0000

Blog readers, I know you've all been wondering what classically American dessert Bean and I could have possibly concocted. Or, you know, maybe not because there's really only one.

That's right, everyone. It's time for Apple Pie a la Nug and Bean.

Writing a blog post has never made me so nostalgic for last week.

We had been looking forward to making this pie with our buddies Domsicle and Grape ever since Bean went apple picking, and we were counting on it to be a bright spot in a difficult day. It needed to be perfect, and epitomize all that is good about America in general. With this in mind, we proceeded with our usual slap-shod approach to doing things.

Filling:

Such concentration.

We tasked Domsicle and Grape with cutting up the apples. I'm still confused about how they made such uniform pieces out of such "unique" orchard apples.

Bean was in charge of the filling, so she waxed nostalgic and followed the Joys of Baking's recipe. Or rather, she mixed all of the ingredients from this recipe in a bowl and ignored all of the other instructions. Oh, and she skipped the cornstarch. Still counts?

Despite the improvisation on Bean's part, the result was super tasty. If (when) we make this pie again, we'd probably tone down the nutmeg a bit.

Crust and Spectacular Crumble Topping:

Why Not to Play Library Chicken: The Definitive Visual Guide

While Bean was deciding which parts of the chemical process were unnecessary, I was making pie crust and the crumble topping. The pie crust recipe I use (which, despite what Bean says, I do have memorized) is Williams-Sonoma's basic pie dough. I cut the butter into the flour with my hands. Way more efficient and fun.

The crumble topping, however, was our greatest achievement. When the vague memories of my grandmother's recipe and grand plans for pie perfection proved insufficient, I called home and had my sister look up the recipe for me. Now, because I like you, blog readers, I will share:

Ingredients:

Grape, Nug, and Domsicle performing magic.

1 stick of butter
1/2 cup brown sugar
1 cup flour

Process:

Like making pie dough, this basically consists of chopping up the butter, throwing it on top of the sugar and flour, and mashing them together with your hands.

Baking and its Aftermath:

Once all the components were assembled, we mounded the apples up high in the pan and covered them with the crumb topping. We even thought to put the pie pan on a sheet pan for ease of extraction from our scary oven before sitting down to enjoy our Mac 'n Cheese.

The pie took about an hour to cook, but we had to cover the crumb topping with a piece of tinfoil about 35-40 minutes in to make sure it wouldn't burn.

When it emerged, the house had never smelled quite so heavenly. Somehow I immediately got roped into slicing it, despite my genuine hatred for the whole pie-cutting process. That first piece is always a disaster, and, if you're me, so are all the following pieces.

My protests fell on deaf ears.

The good news was that there was no one to stop me from cutting gigantic slices. The four of us ate half the pie in one sitting. Bean cheered me on by marching around the room and chanting: "No Parents! All of the pie! No Parents! All of the pie!"

That's right, kids. College is awesome, and it never gets old.

ALL OF THE PIE!!!!!!
(The demon baker of Broad Street?)

We're very proud of ourselves for several reasons:

Apple pie a la mode with coffee.
The dessert of the civilized and sleepy.

1) This is the first baking we've done together.

2) This is also the first time we've pulled ourselves together enough to make food that wasn't necessary for basic sustenance. Although, Bean totally had pie for breakfast the next day.

3) We were completely sleep deprived through the whole process, but against all odds, our final product was classy and delicious.

Post-Pie Philosophizing:

In some ways, this is the first time we really took the reins of our cooking experience. We were cobbling together multiple recipes, adding (or subtracting) our own touches, and fusing our childhood memories of apple pie to make a final product was way more than edible.

We were also able to turn cooking into a fun way to bond with our friends Domsicle and Grape, who wanted pie badly enough to put up with our sleepy grumpiness.

All in all, it was everything that mealtime at college should be: relatively easy, social, and delicious.

50 points for Ravenclaw!*

Nugget and Bean, making strides toward adulthood and obesity.

*LET THE RECORD SHOW: Bean is actually a Gryffindor. The Pottermore Sorting Hat said so.

Americana Part 1: Mac and Cheese

noreply@blogger.com (Claire) — Wed, 26 Sep 2012 05:15:00 +0000

Last weekend was a marathon of one of college eating's most essential staples: free food. And (as often happens on weekends when normal routines are broken) when free food was not available, Nugget simply forgot to eat. As a result, we don't have too many cooking adventures to share with you from the last few days. We did, however, kick the weekend off with a dinner party with Domsicle and Grape (the younger-sister-formally-known-as-Grace) on Friday night, which resulted in some truly delicious discoveries. Nugget is going to blog about the super-exciting dessert we made that night (cliffhanger!), but in the meantime, I would like to present:

Broccoli and White Cheddar Mac and Cheese (aka one of our new favorite recipes).

This delicious dinner was remarkably easy to make. The only trick is, when the instructions say "melt butter over medium heat, then whisk in flour and cook," what they mean is "melt the butter but don't let it start bubbling, remove from heat to whisk in flour, then put back on heat to cook - and don't start this process when the water for pasta isn't even boiling yet, because cheese sauce isn't something you want to leave sitting around." Luckily, while this subtext was apparently mysterious to me, Nugget had enough experience with making a roux that she was able to intervene and correct my initial missteps.

Had I been left to my own devices, the lovely pot of cheesy
goodness would be missing from this picture.
Hooray! Broccoli for dinner!

Thanks to Nugget's help, the final product was my personal favorite of any mac and cheese I've ever tried. I am not a huge mac and cheese fan generally, because I often find it to be overly rich and bland. This recipe seemed to be tailor-made for my tastes. The pepper jack cheese added an extra kick, while the broccoli gave me something to crunch on and lightened the overall impact of the cheesy richness. Grape and I also added a little bit of salsa, a favorite trick that we picked up from campfire mac and cheese at Camp DeBruce (trust me, once you try it, you won't want to go back), but this recipe really had enough flavor to stand alone. And, as an added bonus, the ingredients were dirt cheap! Two thumbs up!

However, while the mac and cheese was certainly a triumph, the real hero of the night was dessert. Read all about it in Nugget's next installment!

Grape and Domsicle, like the Mona Lisa, have a secret.
Their enigmatic smiles hint at the delights of the
exciting dessert post to come...

Guess Who's Coming to Brinner

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sat, 22 Sep 2012 16:31:00 +0000

with

I'm sensing a theme on SGDF. Bean always looks normal and I smile like a serial killer.

Yesterday evening, after going to a lecture given by Alexandra Fuller, Bean, NutMeg and Sassafrass (NutMeg's roommate) and I met up for that holy meal known as brinner, or, less succinctly, breakfast-for-dinner.

Let the Record Show:

If this post sounds at all odd to you at any point (I mean more than usual, wise guys), bear in mind that last night I totally won Library Chicken. I'm running on about 3.5 hours of sleep and the ever-satisfying thrill of victory.

On Alexandra Fuller:

I've blogged about my Living Writer's class before in my critically acclaimed post ""Ha Jin Makes Nug Have Thoughts," and I'm here to tell you that it continues to be incredible. Yesterday, Alexandra Fuller, the author of Don't Let's Go to the Dogs Tonight, came to campus.

So much awesome

Without going into too much detail, if Ha Jin is Bruce Banner, Alexandra Fuller is Dr. Gregory House. She's brilliant, and can't hear social cues over the sound of her own awesome. Which, I might add, is really terrifying in a Q and A session.

With so little time for your bullshit

Anyway, Fuller also writes for National Geographic, which made me realize that that would be a great job for me. Bean's reply to this revelation was "Well, duh, Nug. You spend half your time looking at pictures of Maori butt tattoos."

Yup.

Thoughts on Brinner:

First of all, to truly appreciate brinner, you have to embrace the notion that it is always 7 a.m. somewhere. In the collegiate parlance, the devotion to the concept that certain foods can only be consumed within a particular range of hours is an arbitrary human construction imposed upon us by our slavish obedience to the ultimately groundless dictates of our culture.

When you accept that logic, you'll come to realize that brinner is truly the perfect and quintessential college meal.

Consider the menu:

1) Potatoes and onions. Chop, put in pan, olive oil, salt, pepper, oven. Done.

Making the potatoes is as easy
as recapturing an errant spud from the bottom of an oven with tongs is difficult.

2) Scrambled eggs. I'd like to take this visually dull moment to reflect on how it is nearly impossible to take an appetizing picture of scrambled eggs. Or, apparently, of brinner (see below).

3) Bacon.

Most of the crew spent the prep time watching me watch bacon.

Then you're done with the grown-up part of your meal! It was super delicious, but perhaps photography is not the best medium with which to capture it.

I swear it was tasty.

How you approach the next step is critical. You could be a responsible, serious adult and stop here. But that really would detract from your quality of life because the next step is --

4) Pillsbury cinnamon buns. I know we say this a lot on SGDF, but seriously, they are nature's perfect food.

A scene from Norman Rockwell's nightmares.

There's something about popping open that weird cardboard cylinder, laying them tenderly in the pan, watching them rise as the apartment fills with their cinnamony scent, and then slathering them with glaze that makes all of your worries disappear. As long as your worries don't include calories.

I think Timon had it right:

Hakuna Matata, man.

So have some cinnamon buns with your brinner.

Library Chicken and College Snack Time

noreply@blogger.com (Claire) — Fri, 21 Sep 2012 06:02:00 +0000

Tonight, Nugget and I are playing a game we call "Library Chicken"-- neither us can leave Case-Geyer Library until the other one does. It is a truly heroic test of will, academic attention span, and caffeine intake. Strategic breaks are key to my long-term strategy to defeat Nugget in this epic contest, so instead of continuing to read about Freud and Einstein, I thought I'd pause to share some miscellaneous thoughts on the miscellaneous college meal: snacks!

Last weekend, I went with Colgate's Newman Community to an apple orchard called Beak & Skiff for a day of apple picking and general frolicking. The day brought to mind childhood memories, falling leaves, and all that is good about Central New York. After our rather disappointing dinner on Tuesday night, we turned to the bounty I had brought home to redeem the evening, making ourselves a study break snack of apples, maple candy, and apple cider.

In my mind, this is an example of all the best qualities of food; like pitzelles and hot chocolate at Christmas or pumpkin pie and cranberry sauce at Thanksgiving, apple and maple are flavors I look forward to all year. They create a special moment out of a particular time of year, and lend themselves to some pretty snazzy food photography.

Norman Rockwell wishes he had painted this
almost as much as you wish you were eating it.

However, on a night like tonight (aka most nights), snacks don't reach this level of perfection. Instead, they are generally pure junk that serves to fill the void that sleep leaves behind.

Here's what our fuel for Library Chicken has been:

If Martha Stewart is the champion of the classy snack, then tonight we are following the lead of another Food Philosophy Icon: Louis CK.

Ok, so that's not the best advice to post on a food blog.

What can we say? Smart girls love dumb food.

P.S. I am totally going to win Library Chicken. Emma is quickly descending into a delusional state.

We Shop Badly, But Make Some Mean Rapini

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Thu, 20 Sep 2012 01:08:00 +0000

In many respects, yesterday was a no good, dirty rotten, very bad day for me and Bean. But mostly for me. There are many dangers specific to college life, but perhaps none so insidious as sleep deprivation. I'm honestly not sure if that is the true root of my series of failures today, but it's my go-to-scapegoat.

Allow me a brief anecdote to illustrate the pervasiveness of today's theme: my shirt was inside out all day and I didn't notice. In this day and age it's hard to tell a seam from a stylish accent, but I've never heard of a stylish accent tag.

But to be honest, today's real villain isn't lack of sleep. It's Price Chopper. Specifically, whoever is in charge of designing their packaging. Here's what I have to say to them:

THE GREAT SAUCE CATASTROPHE:

Feeling exhausted and generally under-motivated, we decided to make some more excellent sauce (as seen in Monday's post), some better pasta, sautee some broccoli rabe, and call it a day. We ran to PChops to buy some more crushed tomatoes and a few other necessities.

Here it is ... looking innocent.

The Price Chopper brand tomatoes were by far the cheapest. Being the responsible and thrifty shoppers that we are, we examined the front of the cans for potential weirdness, and, finding nothing untoward, bought some.

When we got back to the kitchen and opened the cans, I became suspicious. I tasted, and went into a paroxysm of horror and disgust.

I turned the can around to look at the ingredients and --

Chemistry. Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.

There was really no salvaging it at that point. Adding sauteed onion and pepper flakes made it better, but the fields had already been sown with salt, so to speak. Except we actually added the salt, because canned sauce (which this basically was) is always so weirdly sweet.

BROCCOLI RABE/RAPINI:

Although thoroughly disheartened, Bean threw herself into preparing our broccoli rabe, which turns out to be a more elaborate process than we initially realized. I decided to get behind the camera this time and document Bean's progress.

Step 1: Trimming the stems. At this point we realized we had an obscene amount of rapini.

Bean in action.

Step 2: Blanching in salty water. This was complicated by our complete lack of ice, so we ended up throwing the bowl into the freezer for a while before filling it with cold water.

We thought it might shrink down a lot like spinach. This didn't really happen.

Step 3: Sauteeing with olive oil, garlic, and red pepper flakes. The wok spits like a llama and tried to burn my face off.

Aw, look at her struggle.

So after about 45 minute's work, we had a mediocre-to-fair rainy day meal. We're not winning any prizes for this one, but it was definitely edible.

Yes, it needed exactly this much parmesan.

CAUTIONARY TALE OF THE DAY:

Honestly, I feel like this entire experience has been a cautionary tale, but here's a bonus pro tip.

When you are cutting onions, your eyes will sting. You will tear up like a baby, hate life, and run to stick your head under the spigot. Or at least, that's always my experience. And I don't think there's anything wrong with that, as long as you're not super attached to your dignity.

What you should never, ever do, is screw your eyes shut, turn your head away, and continue to chop. That will result in your nearly severing your thumb. I think most people would consider that to be a negative. Unless you are Frodo or something, then that could actually work out.

Spice Up Your Life!

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Tue, 18 Sep 2012 04:44:00 +0000

Look what we got! Bean and I are officially spice girls.

I know what joie de vivre smells like: this box.

Massive strides have been made in the war on blandness. Our friend, Chef Spaetzle (an actual chef), recently rocked our world by sending us a myriad of spices. We now own things I have never heard of. And I thought sumac was a tree. Whatever it is, it smells awesome.

Overwhelmed by the plethora of potential flavor, we decided we had to make a pyramid.

This package fixed a major problem in our lives. In addition to being constantly cramped for time and funds, there's a lot of stuff that we just don't have. Stuff that makes the culinary world go round. Prior to our spices' arrival, Bean had a stressful dream about thinking that every recipe in the world called for cumin.

Adult readers (if you exist), take pity on your college-aged relations. They're probably living like the Europeans did before the Silk Road -- vaguely unsatisfied and confusing 'salty' with 'delicious.' Rather than that iTunes gift card, this Christmas give the gift that keeps on giving: a spice rack with all the essentials. It'll stop them from plotting to shanghai their roommates and sail off in search of the Northwest Passage.

Thanks for broadening our culinary horizons, Spaetzle.

Nugget and Bean Make a Big Italian Mess

noreply@blogger.com (Claire) — Tue, 18 Sep 2012 04:43:00 +0000

Hey there, blog readers! Today was an exciting day in the land of Nugget and Bean. The interest house where I live (and Nugget pretends to live) has organized a food co-op for Monday night dinners this semester, and this was our day to cook for everyone. Unfortunately, we also had a Writing Center staff meeting that didn't end until 5:15 PM, leaving us with a serious time crunch.

So of course, we decided to attempt a full Italian dinner: chicken parmesan, eggplant parmesan, tomato sauce, pasta, garden salad, and sauteed broccoli rabe. There was no other logical option. And by "there was no other logical option," I clearly mean, "Nugget and Nutmeg both came up with a million simple and delicious suggestions, and I somehow managed to talk Nugget into this one."

It was either this, or try to take over the world again.

Thanks to my powers of persuasion, it was decided that I would make a run to the grocery store in between my afternoon classes and pick up everything we would need to serve this menu to 10 people. I also sliced up the eggplant, salted it, and left it to sit. By the time we got back to the house at 5:30, the eggplant slices had released a lot of the moisture that would have made them soggy and greasy, and we were ready to get cooking!

Nugget made the sauce first while I got us set up. We dredged and breaded the eggplant and chicken cutlets, pan fried and topped them with sauce and some shredded mozzarella cheese, and then finished them with just a minute in the broiler. Straightforward in theory, but totally hectic in practice. Here's a breakdown of how it went:

TRIUMPH:

If you don't make your own sauce,
the aliens win.

Nugget's homemade sauce. This was definitely the hero of the night. It took 5 minutes to put together, and then spent the rest of dinner prep innocently simmering on the stove until we needed it. Nugget loosely followed this recipe, but added her own touches: sauteed onions, a little oregano, and a bay leaf. The result was flavorful without being overpowering, and had just a little bit of kick from the red pepper flakes. SO GOOD. This experience has only reaffirmed our belief that there is never a reason to buy jarred sauce. In fact, it is so unnecessary that its existence can only be explained as part of a government conspiracy to hide the signs of the coming alien invasion.

DEFEAT: The pasta. We pretty much forgot all about it in all the chaos of frying things, so we overcooked it and forgot to add oil to keep it from sticking. Also, we used most of the sauce on the eggplant and chicken, and didn't have much left over to help ol' globby there. Sorry, pasta.

MASTERPIECE: The salad! I made it in the afternoon, so it was fresh, pretty, and done ahead of time. Nugget also made some yummy dressing to go with it: three parts olive oil, one part balsamic vinegar, all parts delicious.

MISSTEP: The Mystery of the Missing Rapini. We remembered the broccoli rabe's existence half way into cleanup, so it stayed in the fridge. Expect it to make an appearance later this week.

SO AWESOME: The Set-Up. I love to have everything laid out within arm's reach before I start cooking, and I find it really satisfying to have all the ingredients I need arranged aesthetically. The two assembly lines in the mise en place for this meal fulfilled my every irrational desire.

SYMMETRY!

MORE SYMMETRY.

NOT AT ALL AWESOME: The Clean-Up. My general cooking philosophy (inherited from my dad, the consummate get-it-done guy), is to clean up, wipe down, and store things away as I go. The frantic pace of this meal did not allow us to do any of that, and left us with a huge mess to deal with afterwards. Nugget and I sat at the dining room table for half an hour just trying to get up the energy to start.

I took this photo on a diagonal to represent the general
sense of chaos and disorder that engulfed us. Nugget
made a confused face to get me to shut up.
Expect vengeance photos this week.

The good news is, sitting around and pretending the mess in the kitchen didn't exist gave us a chance to tell secrets, munch on some cucumbers, and bask in the glory of a (mostly) successful meal. And when we finally got started, our long clean-up gave us ample opportunity to jam out to the Beatles (Nugget's got all the crazy harmonies). Our housemates gave us good reviews, but even if they were lying, it was still really rewarding to cook for other people. Ambition may be the Cardinal Sin of College Cooking on most nights, but every now and then it's fun to bite off more than you can chew.

... Get it? I used that expression because we're a food blog.

The Squash Chronicles Continue

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Mon, 17 Sep 2012 03:47:00 +0000

2) SPAGHETTI SQUASH WITH ROASTED BRUSSELS SPROUTS AND CHICKPEAS

Nug makes a breakthrough in food photography. So classy!

We were hoping that this recipe would restore our faith in squashdom and it totally did. We got the recipe from FatFree Vegan Kitchen, and if every recipe on that site manages to be this tasty, it's going to earn a position among my favorites.

Elements of Excellence:

1) Brussels sprouts. I genuinely wish these had been a tangible, edible part of my childhood. They are not the harbingers of nastiness that popular culture makes them out to be.

2) Basil. The recipe calls for dried basil, but we didn't have that. We did, however, have some fresh basil that is miraculously still living in a glass of water on my window sill. We chiffonaded (yeah, I really wanted to use that word again) it up and sprinkled it on top of the dish.

3) Sheer volume. Spaghetti squash is the Mary Poppins carpet bag of the vegetable world. You start scraping with a fork, it starts coming off in shreds, and it just won't stop. Yay leftovers!

4) Homeyness. I can picture eating this dish out of a bowl in front of a fireplace. This is unlikely to happen for me though, because Colgate bricked up all the fireplaces on campus. It's like they think we shouldn't be in charge of fire or something.

Cooking Method 1
I was trying to smile and not to burn myself.
Multitasking is not my strong suit.

What We Learned:

1) Bean's stomach waits for no one. Seriously, for someone with an enormous attention span for academia, she's like a bored kid during a long car ride in the kitchen.

2) This led to a more useful discovery: spaghetti squash is a very forgiving vegetable. When roasting proved to be too slow, we moved to the microwave with no ill effects (as far as we could tell).

3) Like most new 'chefs' we have absolutely no sense of timing.

Cooking Method 2

4) This is an incredibly forgiving recipe. Everything stayed warm enough and retained enough structural integrity that when we finally put it all in the wok, it came together as if we had timed everything properly.

5) Brussels sprouts aren't spelled "brussel sprouts."

Cautionary Tale of the Day:

No. Wrong. Bad.

This actually happened during our first squash meal, but let's go over it now. You are making pasta. Your house's only wooden spoon is a glorified tongue depressor, so you're using a metal spoon.

Do you A) rest it on top of the open pot of boiling water? Or B) put it absolutely anywhere else?

If you answered A, you're dumb because steam is hotter than boiling water, and metal is a conductor. You are, however, in good company. Try not to curse too much when you leave important pieces of your flesh behind on the spoon.

Squash on Squash on Squash Part 1

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Mon, 17 Sep 2012 01:51:00 +0000

Hamilton (the town that Colgate is in) has an amazing farmer's market every Saturday, and last week Bean and I got a little crazy with the squash. To use up our preponderance of squash, we decided to try two new recipes in which squash plays the starring role.

1) PASTA WITH ACORN SQUASH AND PANCETTA

We are both big fans of acorn squash and figured that this recipe sounded and looked pretty tasty, and that the marriage of acorn squash (which we both believe is truly maple syrup's soulmate) and pancetta was intriguing.

What Worked:

If it looks like this, it's not crispy enough.
You want those babies brown, trust us.

The pancetta. It's the bomb. I am continually amazed by the amount of 'exotic' food that Price Chopper has. The sliced pancetta we got there was so handy. We just rendered the crap out of it.

What Didn't:

To be honest, almost everything else. The first mistake was totally on us. We overcooked the squash a little bit.

These are too crispy.
However, with some more oil and maybe some salt,
we think they would make great "french fries."

After that though, I call shenanigans. First of all, the original blog image shows the squash holding itself together, being friends with the pasta without glomming all over it, and generally looking presentable. Our pasta, however, could only be described as "glop in a wok."

Is it possible that this is due to our lack of culinary skills?

Why no, how silly of you to ask.

Here's the other thing. Pasta is starchy. Squash is starchy. And it's also not a sauce. So the result is a slightly dry, heavy, starchy, mushy thing with small bites of delicious crunchy pancetta. So the moral of the story is:

Their pasta + reality = our pasta
Yup. Just compared TSwift and Ke$ha to pasta.

On Peanut Butter

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sat, 15 Sep 2012 19:58:00 +0000

I'm going to make another weird analogy.

Here it is:

Peanut butter on a spoon is the snooze button of hunger. They are both magical, counterproductive to most of my goals, and I make frequent use of them.

In the PB spoon's defense, of its 190 calories, only 140 are from fat. That leaves 50 to be made of other things.

Now in haiku form:

Peanut butter spoon,
You extend our happiness.
And also waistlines.

As they say in Ireland, Sláinte!

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Fri, 14 Sep 2012 23:47:00 +0000

This past summer I went to Ireland for a month with Colgate as part of an Extended Study on Irish literature. It really was incredible and very educational, not only regarding Ireland's history and culture, but also in the ways of adulthood (minus cooking). There is nothing quite like having your debit card eaten by an ATM in a foreign country for bringing you up to speed with modern electronic banking. I eventually did get the card back, but I had to have a lengthy conversation with the bank people while climbing Ben Bulben.

"Professors, why are we climbing this mountain again?"
"Yeats wrote a poem about it."
"Did he climb it?"
"Of course not."

Tonight my Ireland friends and I are having an Ireland-themed reunion. In preparation for the festivities, a few of us got together to make scones, an Irish staple. Seriously, the saddest thing about coming back to America was the general dearth of tea and scones. I do order tea at diners now. The waiters look at me funny and bring me Lipton in chipped coffee mugs.

We made Cream Scones, and they're 1) delicious, and 2) idiot proof. We got the recipe from Honey & Jam, which is an all around great site. We put chocolate chips in one batch (just stirred them in when we put in the heavy cream), and gave the other a cinnamon swirl. This was surprisingly easy -- just dust the dough round with cinnamon, fold the dough in half, repeat. The scones only take about 30 minutes, including baking time.

Mmmm ... I can feel my fake Irish accent coming on.

This seems like a good time to mention that our interests also extend to beverages. Purely in the abstract, of course, since neither of us is twenty-one. However, in Ireland the drinking age is eighteen.

Let me share with you my favorite Irish alcoholic beverage:

MEAD.

Mead is the drink of the gods. It's sweet without being cloying, and delicately fruity. I don't know how widely available it is, but we had it at a "medieval" dinner at Bunratty Castle. How was this medieval feast, you ask? Picture the early bird special at Medieval Times. Add Ireland's most lipsticked and inappropriately hairy geriatrics, and a group of twenty or so confused college students. Yeah, it was like that.

Going Greek?

noreply@blogger.com (Claire) — Fri, 14 Sep 2012 03:17:00 +0000

Last week, the mania of Sorority Recruitment took Colgate's campus by storm. Not wanting to be left out, Nug and I decided to go Greek as well. But instead of adding Greek letters to our wardrobe, we added some Greek inspiration to our dinner plans.

This.

Not this.

The result was a meal that took us just over an hour to prepare, even though it had MULTIPLE COMPONENTS.

COMPONENT ONE: Roasted Eggplant Delicious
We decided to try Barefoot Contessa's recipe for Roasted Eggplant Spread, with a few modifications. We diced up our Farmer's Market eggplant, tossed it in a bowl with half a yellow onion, minced garlic, olive oil, salt and pepper, and then put it in the oven to roast. (We love roasting. It's kind of our jam.)
When it was done cooking, we added some jarred roasted red peppers. The recipe then called for our roasted veggies to be blended in a food processor to make a spread. However, since we don't have a food processor, we went for our go-to substitute: mushing things with a fork. The result was a chunky, rich, slightly sweet eggplant side dish. The deliciousness to time/effort ratio on this was OFF THE CHARTS. It's definitely a new favorite.

Pre-mush Eggplant.

COMPONENT TWO: Grilled Chicken - Escape from Forced Vegetarianism
While that was cooking, we started on some grilled chicken breasts. Cooking meat is usually a daunting prospect for for first-time cooks like ourselves. There are temperatures, and flavors, and juices - all sorts of complications that vegetables do not present. And of course, there's the ever-looming threat of salmonella. So far, grilled chicken breasts are our only reliable pathway to the life of the omnivore. We just throw them in a pan with some oil, salt, and pepper, and a few minutes later... protein! They are also easy to freeze and store, so we always have them on hand.

COMPONENT THREE: Greek-Inspired Salad
We're using the phrase "Greek-inspired" pretty loosely here. We did buy a cucumber for just this purpose, but the theme sort of fell apart when we added craisins, and it morphed into our normal go-to salad. But really, who can say no to craisins? If the Greeks had known about craisins, we're sure they would have added them, too.

But, Greek or not, this component also gave us the opportunity to make one of our favorite things....

COMPONENT FOUR: LUNCH SALAD.
As we we put each salad ingredient on our dinner plates, we also added it to a tupperware for the next day. One prep, two meals! Huzzah!
Now I know what you're thinking: "But Bean, isn't lunch salad always the worst, because you can't add dressing ahead of time without making everything soggy?" Well my friend, that's where our genius truly lies. Nugget and I cut up the extra chicken breasts we had made for this purpose, put them in a bag with some balsamic vinegar, and shook them up until each piece was coated with balsamic goodness. Add those babies to lunch salad, and you get all of the flavor of salad dressing, without the soggy mess! Ta da!

COMPONENT FIVE: Tabouli we bought at Price Chopper. It pays to plan ahead!

With all of that together, Nug and I had a yummy, balanced, healthy meal on our plate (and another one in the fridge for tomorrow!) in a little over an hour. So whether you wear your letters every day, or you don't know the difference between φ and Δ, go Greek(ish) with this meal!

Ha Jin makes Nug have thoughts

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Fri, 14 Sep 2012 01:55:00 +0000

Colgate has a lot of great classes, but hands down one of the coolest has to be Living Writers. You read books written by people who are actually alive, and then those living, breathing people come talk to you. In the flesh. It makes me want to roll around on the floor and giggle, overcome with English major/book-nerd glee.

This year's theme is international writers, and they have a really great lineup of people (Salman Rushdie is coming, people. Salman FREAKING Rushdie!). This week's author was Ha Jin, the author of Waiting.

First of all, he's excessively adorable. You know how adorable Bruce Banner is in The Avengers with his whole rumpled, slightly confused brilliant person routine? Ha Jin is like that.

One of these things ... is exactly like the other. (No, seriously, LOOK AT THEIR CLOTHES.)

Both of these things ... belong in my life.

Besides being eminently huggable, Ha Jin is an interesting, thought-provoking speaker. What I found most interesting were his thoughts on language. When students asked him to speak about his decision to switch from writing in Chinese to English, he said very plainly that he wouldn't suggest that anyone learn a second language and try to make a name for themselves writing in it. To do so, he said, was insanity.

The thing to do, Jin said, was to write in your first language and only your first language. But your first language doesn't have to be your mother tongue. Here first means primary, or first in your heart, rather than earliest. Jin thinks, rightly, in my opinion, that writing in a language is more than just putting words from a certain communication system down on a page. It immerses you in the culture, philosophy, and manner of thinking that comes with that language. So it's important that you express yourself in the language you are most comfortable with as a total package. Intriguing, no?

Dirty-Snow Goggles

noreply@blogger.com (Claire) — Thu, 13 Sep 2012 03:39:00 +0000

When Nugget and I were setting up our fancy, impressive, high-tech new blog, we briefly considered choosing a picture of our school as the background for our various musing and misadventures. Ultimately, we decided to make a different artistic choice ("What in the world is a template? Why did our one picture turn into a million tiny ones? Hey, isn't that a button that will give us a nice pre-made picture of a book?"). However, the search for a picture of Colgate that represented our daily experience of undergraduate life proved to be enlightening.

If you were to drive up Broad Street and catch sight of Colgate tomorrow morning, you would see this:

And yet, when we were choosing a photo that captured the essence of our collegiate lives, we came up with this:

I can think of so many beautiful, perfect images from my time at Colgate: the stars over Whitnall Field on a snowy night, the bright yellow leaves on the tree outside my freshman dorm room in the fall, Hamilton decorated like a Christmas village around December, a sunny afternoon by the lake in summer. But at the end of the day, as much as college is the best four years of your life, it is also one long sleep-deprived slog. So when I'm sitting through a lecture at 8:30 AM on a Monday morning, after lugging my books home from the library at midnight the night before....

.... you can bet I'll be seeing the world through dirty-snow goggles.

Put a bird on it!

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Thu, 13 Sep 2012 01:19:00 +0000

You know that Portlandia sketch, "Put a Bird on It"? If you don't, you should. It's about how hipsters put birds on things to mark them as their own. Like Zorro's 'Z,' but with feathers and a beak.

Anyway, the point of this is that the hipsters have realized that adding one exceptionally awesome thing to everything else elevates the composite level of awesome. During tonight's dinner (just leftover black bean soup because we were strapped for time again), we realized that we had found this to be true. But rather than advocating mass consumption of fowl, we hold that the world's most useful food is the quesadilla.

It takes five minutes. Less, maybe. And then you have a crunchy, salty, cheesy meal-enhancer that even someone in the most limited kitchen can make. So embrace the down-home deliciousness of the 'dilla.