Give Me Some Comfort (Food): Brownie Points

Oh brownies. In the grand scheme of life, there is almost nothing more tempting or more wonderful than freshly-baked, slightly gooey brownies. In high school, I used to make brownies almost every weekend, when Jeremy would come over and my mom would pop a batch in the oven. We'd turn on a movie and dredge our brownies in ice cream and chocolate syrup, secure in our teenager metabolisms (youth! so innocent...).

Good brownies--moist, springy, chocolatey and fudgy--are just utterly fantastic. Slathered with some chocolate frosting or left unadorned, their tissue-thin surfaces shiny and delicate, they are instant crowd-pleasers. But by that same token, bad brownies--thick, heavy, and dry--are one of the most unfortunate things ever. The disappointment in seeing a big, beautiful brownie, taking a bite, and discovering that it is dry, chalkly, or--ugh--filled with nuts (or fruit!) is quite unlike anything else.

Of course, sometimes the best brownies are the ones that never make it to the pan. I think my weekly brownie-trips with Jeremy were subtle attempts to sneak spoonfuls of brownie batter, which I would happily eat for the rest of my short, fat life if it didn't make me sick so quickly. With the richness of the egg and flour and the pure chocolate essence of a melted Hershey's bar, brownie batter is frightfully addictive (and unlike Dave, who will even eat chunks of unkneaded bread dough, I don't usually sample my food before it's completely prepared, less because of possible fears of salmonella and more because I am a stickler for instructions. Brownie batter in oven, not stomach!). One memorable night, though, when I was still in college, Kevin and I found a box of brownie mix and although we managed to track down eggs and oil (from the friendly Cabot dining hall staff!), we didn't have access to an oven. Unperturbed, we worked our way through most of the whole bowl, while our respective significant others looked on in disgust (and jealousy?).

My favorite brownie recipe is one that's almost as old as I am (I brought these suckers in kindergarten, to great acclaim). Made with regular brownie mix, scoops of batter are dropped in paper-lined cupcake tins and topped with a tiny Reese's peanut butter cup. The batter puffs up around the peanut butter cup, forming a little round pillow. The chocolate of the peanut butter cup doesn't quite melt, while the peanut butter emerges hot and gooey. They are just so, so good. I'm not sure if my mom invented these or if she got the recipe from somewhere else (which I'm more inclined to believe. My mom is more the recipe follower than inventor), but last year I started baking them again, encouraged by my boyfriend's oven and hungry roommates. The roomies, who are environmental grad students and also geology nerds, said the brownies looked like a certain kind of volcano and christened them Caldera Brownies.

CALDERA BROWNIES
INGREDIENTS
1 box of brownie mix (usually needs oil, water, and an egg)
1 bag of miniature Reese's peanut butter cups
Paper cupcake liners

DIRECTIONS
Preheat oven to 325 degrees
Prepare the brownie mix according to the instructions on the box
Unwrap about 2 dozen peanut butter cups
Line a cupcake tin with the paper liners
Using an ice cream scoop, fill the liners with batter--about 2/3 full
Gently press a peanut butter cup into the center of the brownie batter until the top of the batter is even with the top of the peanut butter cup
Bake for 17-20 minutes
Let cool 5-10 minutes and serve warm

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Give Me Some Comfort! (Food): Brinner

When it's late and I'm starving and lazy and don't want to prepare an actual meal, I start to take a good hard look at what's in my fridge. Tonight, I still had some leftover chicken, that I'm saving for Dave, my usual varieties of cheese, and some salad (which I wouldn't touch. When you're starving and bored of your usual food, salad is just about the worst idea ever). I made a handful of pasta, attempting to coax a faux-fettuccine Alfredo (a faux-fredo? a faux-cine? whatever) out of my melted whipped cream and tablespoon of Parmesan. It did not go well, especially considering that I had forgotten the cream was flavored with vanilla and sugar.

So a few disgusting forkfuls and then what? This is the worst possible situation to find myself in: tired, lazy, hungry, and annoyed because I just spent 20 minutes cooking something that ultimately turned out to be inedible. Luckily, I had an ace up my sleeve, in the form of bacon in my fridge: brinner to the rescue.


Brinner, for those of you not on the up and up, is a portmanteau of "breakfast" and "dinner" and is used to describe eating breakfast foods for dinner (I guess it could also refer to dinner foods at breakfast, but who really wants to eat spaghetti-os at 7 in the morning? Trick question!). It was the plot point of an episode of Scrubs, and for good reason: brinner is awesome. I don't usually fall back on the crutch of brinner, since you can get seduced by the idea of pancakes 24 hours a day until you become one of those people cooking rashers of bacon as a midnight snack, but on nights like tonight, when I have a fridge full of bacon and eggs that need to be eaten anyway, it's sort of a perfect storm of deliciousness.

For brinner, I usually go with bacon and eggs or green eggs and ham, since pancakes at that hour can fall a little too close to dessert. Also, I don't include cereal under the brinner category. Cereal is the absolute most pathetic meal ever, the honey nut standard for lazy college students and lazy college grads (I'm looking at you, love of my life). Generally, if it came from a pot or pan and is something they serve at Denny's, it will probably make a good brinner. And why not? A balanced breakfast contains at least many of the ingredients that come up in later meals. Plus, you get the added fun of eating breakfast for dinner! Pancakes at 8pm?! You crazy person! I want to be your friend!

As Turk says: "I just don't see what's wrong with having a nice glass of wine with some pancakes." Right on.
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Give Me Some Comfort! (Food): Cheeese!

There are few things more simple or delicious than cheese. Salty, smooth, soft, or stinky, cheese is universally available, versatile, and as exotic as it is boring. I just had a quick snack of the two different kinds of cheeses I bought today, but I have a total of four different kinds in my fridge (Cracker Barrel extra sharp cheddar, Athenos feta, Chevre--goat--cheese, and Parmesan). They are all wonderful. Even though I technically buy them for various recipes, usually it ends up that I buy the cheese and try looking for recipes to fit them in. But if I can't who cares because hey more cheese for me!


I have always enjoyed cheese as a snack, but I never quite realized how expensive good cheese is. There's a quaint little cheese shop by Dave's house that sells an impressive amount of delicious cheese, but since I love cheese not bankruptcy, I usually have to stick just to raiding their generous amount of free samples. Fancy white people grocery stores (Whole Foods, I'm looking at you) tend to stock up on the less exotic but not so much less expensive varieties. Yes cheese is nice and all, but it starts to hurt when I'm busting $35 for a tablespoon of mozzarella. So, I tend to stick to the more generic, but certainly no less delicious versions, saving the expensive stuff for fancy parties or my wedding (let's do it for the cheese!).

When I was in college, my access to cheese was severely limited, and every bon vivant freshman art show was a chance to go crazy. While my friends might have eyed the large collection of boxed wines, I headed straight for the cheese table. Generally the selection tended to be cubes of either soft white or bright orange, but I got my fix and it was at least better than the crumbly fake Parmesan stuff, the worst human invention and completely undeserving of the moniker "cheese."

As for how to eat cheese other than right off the knife, I like to go classic: grilled cheese, mac&cheese, fried cheese. They are all wonderful, although equally so one of my favorite meals every is freshly baked bread and some very good cheese. At the risk of sounding pretentious, there is something very lovely about warm, soft bread, smooth, fresh cheese, open air, sunshine, and a park. I don't think I have a favorite, although the four that I have right now are pretty much my gold standards. Fresh mozzarella is amazing--ball form floating in water, not the drier and more solid square stuff. Smoked it is utterly delicious. One of my favorite meals ever was a soft filet mignon topped with shredded and slightly crispy Gouda (at Steve and Jenna's rehearsal dinner! That place was awesome!). When I "worked" at a restaurant, we used to amuse ourselves by cooking exotic food that wasn't on the menu, and my grilled cheese would have made bank if they'd actually tried to sell it. I even dress up Kraft Mac & Cheese, which is a great medium for some crumbled feta and a little Parmesan.

I'll leave you with my famous grilled cheese recipe, which I've perfected over years of being uninterested in healthier foods. It's good! I fry it in bacon grease, to give it an extra flavor, but I usually just eat the bacon separate from the grilled cheese. If you don't want to fry a slice of bacon just for its fat, you can use clarified butter instead.

MY GRILLED CHEESE
INGREDIENTS:
two slices fresh bread (French bread or a baguette)
goat cheese
extra sharp cheddar cheese
butter or margarine
1 slice of bacon or 1 tablespoon clarified butter.
several slices smoked ham (optional)

DIRECTIONS:
If frying in bacon grease, cook bacon in medium pan. Cook very slowly to allow grease to accumulate.
Generously butter both sides of the bread; you can also coat with clarified butter
Spread goat cheese across one slice of bread
Top with several slices of ham, if using
Cover with thin slices of cheddar cheese and the other slice of bread--cheese should be in the center of the bread, with no cheese sticking out
Coat frying pan with clarified butter or bacon grease
Cook over medium heat until the bottom slice is golden brown or cheese starts to melt--about 3-5 minutes
Flip and cook until other side is golden brown, about 2-4 minutes
Flip and cook both sides for 90 seconds
Let cool and serve immediately
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Give Me Some Comfort! (Food): Mac n Cheese

I sort of think comfort food is nice any time, but it's wonderful when you actually need it. You know, like when you're just feeling blue or when it's rainy outside or when you've just watched 24 friends and colleagues get fired (just to name something off the top of my head). Comfort food can help you get over it (like liquor! Just kidding. Sort of.).

My favorite comfort food, and the one I will be indulging in today (thanks, economy!) is the old standby, Mac n Cheese.


I like foods that are essentially vehicles for fatty and unhealthy things, and Mac n Cheese takes the cake (cheese cake?). All kinds of Mac n Cheese make me happy--it's pretty hard to go wrong with pasta + cheese--and, admittedly, I probably indulge about every week or so. I've even ordered it in restaurants (like Zoe's! A cute little diner. I never go there any more though, because for a while every time Dave and I went there we'd get into a fight and finally the mac n cheese just wasn't worth it). I'm impressed with people who make their own mac n cheese (Dave's mom's is sooo good), but I'm also pretty happy with the stuff straight from the box, which I often like to dress up with some feta cheese and fresh pepper.

I got this recipe from Nick, the sixteen-year-old food blogger, who got it from Alton Brown. Nick, of course, made it after his own disappointing day (midterms, ugh). I also saw a deep-fried version where you wrap chunks of mac n cheese in bacon and fry them, but I'm having a bad day, not a death wish.

MACARONI AND CHEESE
INGREDIENTS:

Salt

12 oz English Cheddar

2 cups elbow macaroni

3 tablespoons butter

3 tablespoons flour

1 tablespoons dry mustard

1 tablespoons paprika

1/2 cup chopped onions

1 bay leaf

3 cups whole milk

1 egg

1 cup panko breadcrumbs

additional 1/4 cup butter

DIRECTIONS:

preheat oven to 350

Cook macaroni in boiling salted water until al dente (about 6 minutes)

Cook 3 tbs butter over medium heat until bubbling subsides.

Whisk in 3 tbs flour and let cook for about 3 minutes to achieve a nice blond color.

Whisk in mustard powder, paprika, onions, bay leaf and 1 tsp salt.

Slowly whisk in the 3 cups of milk.

Continue whisking and bring liquid to a simmer to thicken, then remove from heat.

Beat an egg in a separate bowl.

Temper the egg by adding a few tbs of the sauce to the bowl with the egg while whisking quickly.

Whisking quickly, add the egg mixture back into the original sauce.

Whisk in about 3/4 of the cheese, then add the noodles.

Place the whole mixture in a round corning ware.

Melt the addition 1/4 cup butter then mix with the panko.

Add this panko mixture and the remaining cheese to the top

Bake at 350 for 30 minutes.

Image by Meeeeee!
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Give Me Some Comfort! (Food): Cream of Wheat

While I'm trying hard to expand my foodie horizons, I am one of those eaters who just likes what I like and see no reason to stray beyond the favorites (when Dave berates me for not trying new things I just tell him that there is something in my character that makes me love the old familiar things--foods, boyfriend--with such a passion that I feel no need to seek something new. It's a stretch but it usually shuts him up). Combine that for the usual nostalgia surrounding what the kids these days call "the comfort food," and it's a wonder I eat anything at all other than mac n cheese and peanut butter (I know, I know. My poor parents). With that I bring you Give Me Some Comfort! (Food), a look at the food that shaped our childhoods and, for some of us, adulthoods. On today's menu: the slightly racist but ultimately delicious century-old porridge, Cream of Wheat.


Today, dear readers, as I headed out to work wearing my snowboots to trudge through the two inches of freshly-fallen snow, I had one thought that filled me with childhood nostalgia and job resentment: if I was 10, today would be a snow day.

It's one of the worst parts of being an "adult" (trappings include job, rent/mortgage, student loans) that they expect you to go to work when it is cold outside! Come on guys! I thought there was some study that said happy workers make the best workers and I would be a much happier worker if instead of going to the office on cold, snowy days I instead curled up under the quilts with a cup of tea and some hardcore Harry Potter.

Anyway...

Dreams of Tuesday snow forts and my mom's resentment when her school wasn't called off are wonderful enough, but the porridge on the cake of a snow day was getting to enjoy a large, steaming bowl of Cream of Wheat.

Ok, admittedly cream of wheat in of itself looks a little, ew. For years I had no idea what it even was, my baby scientist brain unsure of where to catalogue it in the body of food knowledge I was slowly acquiring (Wikipedia tells me it is made from farina. Oh. Right. Farina.). My Titi (my tiny Puerto Rican great-aunt) used to make this for me, and I still, to this day, can't accurately replicate how good hers came out. Every once in a while I would make it for myself before school (yes, I cooked for myself every morning! How was I to know that that would probably be the pinnacle of my food preparation years?), and it took years before I could determine the correct accoutrement to the porridge. I share that knowledge with you now so that you, too, can enjoy a steaming hot bowl of imaginary Cream of Wheat as you slip and slide down a dark, icy sidewalk on your way to work.

CREAM OF WHEAT
INGREDIENTS:
Cream of Wheat
milk
1/2 tablespoon butter
brown sugar
cinnamon

DIRECTIONS:
Follow directions on the Cream of Wheat box (no salt)
Prepare on the stove (not microwave!! let me give you a one-word review of microwaved Cream of Wheat: crap)
It should be smooth, not lumpy; if it gets lumpy add a little milk.
Mix in a couple shakes of cinnamon; you should have enough that you can see flakes of cinnamon without turning the whole thing tan
Pour into a smaller bowl.
Add brown sugar; if it's in small chunks, don't break it up--the smaller lumps of sugar won't melt and are like happy little surprises as you eat.
Top with a pat of butter.
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