Something From Nothing

To say that my not-so-new job has been draining me is a bit of an understatement, but it's not just the new job that has had me so run down lately.  The little summer cold I came down with in early May has taken up residence, simply refusing to leave, landing me at the doctor's office more times than I care to admit in the last three months and culminating in a chronic sinus infection and nasty bronchitis that has me unable to walk more than a few feet without becoming short of breath (damn asthma!).  Add to it Zumba classes, nights and weekends spent visiting friends, late evenings with the boy, a mild stomach flu that plagued me for most of June and it's amazing I haven't collapsed by now.  Being this sick for this long, I welcomed the doctor telling me to stay out of work for the week and do nothing.  But how does one so used to doing everything do nothing?  Recumbent in bed, with the laptop, updating her oh-so-neglected blog - that's how!

So, for those of you who've missed me - I'm sorry, I will try not to stay away so long again.  For those of you who may not have known I existed before this post - welcome, you've missed a bit!  Go back, read through some recipes and try your hand at some yummy dishes!  And, for those of you who didn't even notice I was gone - I'll just assume it was because you were too busy cooking your way through my past posts to realize I hadn't posted anything new!  ;)

Happy Pounds and a Blog Award

I've been a little absent from blogging over the last month but I promise it's been for very good reasons.  Last we knew, I was unemployed, a little lonely and getting very frustrated with my job search. While that's as good a place as any to pick up my story, I think I need to go back even farther.  To summer 2008. It was a big one.

 

You know how people always tell you that once you get your own life in order and stop looking for things, those things will inevitably find you.  Well, it's true; as evidenced by my experiences in late spring/summer of 2008.  I was happily working for a company I liked and had made some great friends there.  I had gone back to school at night and my work schedule allowed me to work full time, take night classes and still have a social life.  I had a great new apartment and I had just met a great new guy (one who I've come to share my life with today).  With all this happiness, stability and comfort in my life, it seemed like the stress pounds that had decided they wanted to be a part of my journey during the previous years were just melting off and by summer of 2008 I was at my goal weight and getting comments such as "holy skinny!" from good friends who hadn't seen me in a while.  Life was good and it only got better for the next 9 months.  Nights out for drinks, dinners and desserts with the new boy, who truly didn't mind a curvier version of me, had started to put on a few "happy pounds" here and there and I found myself back at "within 5 pounds of goal weight" and telling myself "eh, it's only 5 pounds and they're there for the best of reasons!". Then in early 2009, due to company cut backs, I lost my job and became veiled with a slight depression.  It was quickly replaced, however, with the realization that I now had even more time to spend with the boy - and, of course, most of that time was spent consuming yummy deliciousness of the liquid and solid variety.  The ups and downs continued for the next year and a half to 2 years, battling fruitless job searches, one truly horrific job that lasted only a short time, one truly horrific break up that lasted only a short time, one truly fantastic job that lasted only a short time and another unemployment that lasted much longer than it should have - which brings me to where I left off with my last posts.  

On a Friday in late April, I received a call from a recruiter in NYC wanting an interview to discuss my experience and what I was looking for.  We scheduled an interview for the following Monday.  I'd worked with this recruiting company before without much success so I was expecting the interview to go as such: "It was a pleasure meeting you. You have an impressive resume. I'll put my feelers out and we'll be in touch." then go weeks without hearing so much as a peep.  Needless to say, I was pleasantly surprised when I left my recruiter's office with an interview with his client scheduled for 3pm that same afternoon! By 4pm I had the feeling that I aced my first interview and my suspicions were confirmed before I had even exited the subway with a voicemail from my recruiter saying they loved me and wanted to schedule a second interview a.s.a.p.  We had it scheduled for Wednesday morning as I boarded the train home.  Doug and I celebrated my successful interview with dinner out and a bottle of wine that night.  Wednesday morning's interview came and went in a flash and I had that same feeling of success as I walked to the train station. I boarded an early afternoon train home and by 3pm I had an offer letter in hand.  I happily accepted and Doug and I celebrated with an impressive fondue dinner (and many drinks) at the Melting Pot.  I started my new job on Monday, May 2nd.  

Three days later Doug and I left for a week long vacation to Northern California.  It was a whirlwind trip  from San Francisco and Oakland to Reno, NV to Lake Tahoe to Napa Valley and back again.  The week was filled with many drinks, much wine and some of the best food I've ever eaten - and lots of it! And, as I'm sure you've gathered, a few more "happy pounds".  But, now I'm back to the grind.  Finding my days are much longer than ever before and the temptation to just grab something on the go greater than ever.  It's time to buckle down and do what I do best - cook healthy foods that are just as tasty as they are balanced and good for us - with the goal of losing a few pounds but keeping the happy!  

The Sunken Sink

One more day.  One more day until I can do dishes like a human being again...by loading them into the dishwasher.  I've felt very "Little House on the Prairie" lately, doing dishes in the bathtub. Don't get me wrong, I don't mean to seem unappreciative of the indoor plumbing that has allowed me to do dishes without a large basin, a small fire and some melted snow or minimize the trials and tribulations of pioneer life, but hunched over the bathtub for 45 minutes scrubbing and scouring is not how I like to spend my time.  I don't even like to spend my time standing in front of a sink scrubbing and scouring but let's not split hairs.  And don't even get me started on the dishpan hands - as if winter wasn't taking enough of a toll on my skin I now have the hands of a dehydrated 80 year old woman! Swell.

Needless to say, I was quite pleased when Doug's uncle came by today armed with 2x4's, some sort of metal sander, a razor sharp chisel and heavy duty epoxy.  It took a couple hours to clean, sand and prep the granite but once we slid that sink into place and the epoxy started to ooze up, spill over the edges and drip down into the basin, I swear a chorus of angels sang.  Only 24 hours of "curing" until the garbage disposal and dishwasher can be reattached and the sink can go back to serving its intended function as a queue for dirty dishes awaiting their turn on the water ride.  Life is good.

The Valentine's Day (Kitchen) Massacre

I suppose it had to happen.  Our day-early Valentine's celebration was going all too well.  Doug had a good day at work, got out on time and arrived home with flowers in hand (too cute!).  I'd cooked up a storm and the end result was well worth the effort.  The wine was tart, crisp and refreshing, dinner was positively divine, dessert was indulgent and we were altogether fat and happy.   Something had to go wrong.

After dinner, we'd retired to the bedroom to curl up with the 53rd Annual Grammy Awards and whatever we had recorded on the DVR.  But, about halfway into Muse's performance of Uprising, a cacophony of clatter rose up from the kitchen below. Something did not only go bump in the night, it was a full on crash! bang! boom! We jumped up from the bed and went downstairs to investigate. It was decided that I'd check on the dishwasher and Doug would head down to the basement to make sure the puppies hadn't gotten into any trouble (a much more likely scenario than the dishwasher imploding).  I checked, rechecked and reorganized the dishwasher ensuring it would have a smooth wash cycle and Doug emerged from downstairs reporting that all was quiet on the basement front.  Perplexed at finding nothing amiss, we returned upstairs, finished watching the Grammy's and had all but made it through Desperate Housewives on DVR when Doug had a craving for some more of my pulled pork ravioli .  We stood in the kitchen, happily munching on cold ravioli by refrigerator light and chatting about the awards show winners (Did Arcade Fire really deserve Album of the Year?  Honestly, in 10 years, who will have made a bigger impact on music and who will people remember more?  Arcade Fire?  Or Lady Gaga?  Just sayin').  Anyway, satisfied with the ravioli (and a chocolate covered strawberry or 2), we were about to head back upstairs when Doug found himself standing in a massive puddle in front of the garbage.

At this point, despite my earlier fruitless investigation, I was positive the dishwasher had sprung a leak and was set to stop it, mid-cycle, and resign myself to doing dishes by hand (unheard of!) when Doug found the true culprit.  It seemed the hullabaloo we'd heard earlier was not the dishwasher imploding, but the kitchen sink! The sink had somehow unglued itself from the counter and had fallen clear through the opening and into the cabinet below, taking with it all the dirty dishes that hadn't fit in the dishwasher!  A slow steady stream of water was trickling down into the cabinet, onto the cleaning supplies and out onto the floor.  We mopped up the flood, emptied the cabinet of the soggy, waterlogged cleaning supplies and after determining that the drain pipe from the dishwasher was most likely damaged by the falling sink, piled the remaining dirty dishes in (where else?) the bathtub.

You'd think the destruction would end there. If only we were so lucky.  Before going back upstairs for what we hoped would be the night, we trudged down to the basement for one final check on the puppies and found another puddle in the middle of the basement floor.  Wearied by cleaning the kitchen and already frustrated, it was all too easy to just blame Rigby for peeing on the floor yet again, but closer examination of the puddle revealed no trace of a yellow tinge, so the little one was off the hook (this time).  A glance to the ceiling and we knew the kitchen flood had made it's way down through the floorboards.  Luckily (if there's any luck to be had in this mess), Jonas' bed happened to be directly under the flood stream.  So while the poor puppy essentially had a massive sponge for a bed (don't worry, I threw it away), it was our saving grace in minimizing the mess downstairs.  A quick wipe of the floors and ceiling and we could (finally) call it a night.  Dejected and thoroughly exhausted we returned upstairs, our inner OCD finding solace in the fact that at least now we had a matching set of appliance-less holes in the kitchen.

So, now we wait.  For the granite guy and plumber to come assess the damage, for estimates and repair, for the kitchen to make it's way back to "normal".  It's times like these though, when I know I won't be getting to the dishes immediately, that I am so thankful to have my Wolfgang Puck Stainless Steel Cookware Set - 18pc.  These pans can sit unwashed for days on end (not that I ever do that, of course) and they come clean with no more than a splash of hot water and the swipe of a soapy sponge.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have a tub of leftover Valentine's Day dishes to wash! *sigh*

Challenge accepted!

Throughout the years, as I previously stated, I was hard pressed to find a culinary challenge that I wasn't excited to tackle. That said, not all of my endeavors were successful at first blush, but they were nothing a few practice rounds couldn't polish. Fast forward to the summer of 2009 when I was faced with a challenge I wasn't sure I could overcome.

Doug and I had been together for just over a year and I'd been helping him house hunt when I found a house online that I knew we just had to see. I emailed him the details and he arranged for a showing. I was unable to accompany him to the showing but he called me immediately afterwards to tell me about the house. A 4 bedroom, 3 bath that had recently been gutted and renovated; it sounded amazing. With lots of room, a full finished basement for his man cave, a gorgeous kitchen with granite counter tops, tons of cabinet space, an island with a cooktop and a breakfast bar; it was practically perfect!!! Except for the oven...or lack thereof. You see, the cooktop was built into the island and where the oven should have been (beneath the stove) there was a hole. No oven, just an empty hole.  See?

We were assured by the contractor that installing an oven would be an easy job; just purchase a wall oven and slide it right into the hole. So Doug made an offer, it was accepted, the house passed inspection (sans oven) and he was on his way to being a homeowner! Needless to say we were excited; he to be a first time homeowner and me to get my hands on that kitchen!

Months passed in the new house and I was tiring of stove top cooking. I longed to roast, broil and bake, so we began looking for an oven. What we were promised would be easy as pie (Oh how I longed to bake a pie!) became a wild goose chase (Mmmm...braised wild goose with oven roasted root veggies! You can see how oven cooking became a bit of an obsession). Here was our predicament. A standard oven measures roughly: 30w x 24d x 29h. The measurements of our "oven hole": 30w x 24d x 17h. 17 inches in height??? Design fail! Turns out, those measurements would perfectly fit a convection microwave which is so not an oven. After consulting Doug's handyman uncle, carpenter brother and much collaboration with the family, we decided the only option we had was to cut out the 2 small cabinets that were directly under the hole thus giving us 15 more inches of height to play with. New "oven hole" dimensions: 30w x 24d x 29h. Much better...until we realized that we didn't really have 24 inches in depth! The gas line that ran from the cooktop jutted out into the hole for the oven, consuming roughly 2 inches in depth. After a consultation with the local gas and electric company and yet more collaboration with family, our prospects were looking dim. For every corner we thought we turned, a big fat stop sign awaited. Maybe we could just remove the gas line and install an electric cooktop and oven? Nope...the electric line that was run to the island was short on voltage and to increase it would be a BIG (read: expensive) project. Well, what if we cut out the cabinets next to the dishwasher and put the oven there? Certainly there has to be the right kind of electric line if the dishwasher works. Guess again! Apparently dishwashers run off of 110v lines and an oven needs 220v. So we resigned ourselves to being stuck with gas (not a bad resignation in my humble opinion). Replacing everything with electric was out of the question, but with the gas line positioned as it is (honestly, who designed this mess?), we simply could not fit an oven into the hole. We found ourselves faced with replacing the (perfectly good) cooktop as well. What began as removing just 2 small cabinets became cutting out the entire cooktop as well as parts of the granite counter top in the hopes that an integrated "drop-in" range would be the answer. This was fast becoming somewhat of a renovation nightmare...and costly to boot!

Our research and discovery in attempting to find an oven spanned well over a year's time.  Despite my frustration with the lack of an oven, I'm not one to lose my sense of humor when things get tough, so I bought Doug an Easy-Bake oven for Christmas and wrapped it in the oven hole. He came home from work to find his surprise gift and for a split second thought I solved our oven debacle.  A little mean?  Yes. But very funny nonetheless and we enjoyed sharing a Lilliputian chocolate frosted cake one night. 

But seriously, no real oven?  I'd been making the best of cooking on the stove when I decided to put my creativity (and some other kitchen appliances) to good use. This was war!  The electric grill, deep fryer, griddle, crock pot, microwave and teeny tiny toaster oven would become my arsenal. I armed myself and prepared for battle! Emerging victorious, I learned that there are infinite possibilities in the kitchen, even without an oven! A dinner party for friends went off without a hitch, complete with a "baked" pudding cake. Christmas Eve dinner for 8 was a wild success thanks to dueling crock pots!

We've managed to eat well (and healthily...save for the occasional splurge) for the nearly 2 years we've been in the oven-less house. I hold out hope that one day (soon) we'll have an oven and to be honest, the thought of tackling a Thanksgiving dinner without one is still a little daunting (I know, I know, you can always deep fry a turkey, but nothing recalls childhood memories quite like an oven roasted turkey on Thanksgiving Day).  But until then, I'll continue to sear, braise, grill, saute, poach, stew and stir fry my way to deliciousness!

So whatever your reason for cooking without an oven, I hope you can find some recipes, tricks, tips and techniques here to make your culinary adventure a success...and more importantly, fun!

The Making of a Foodie

I love food.  No, I mean it, I really LOVE food!  From the time I was an infant, tasting new and exciting foods was an adventure I welcomed with open arms (and mouth)! My father will gladly tell baby stories of feeding times when I was so excited I'd practically hyperventilate anticipating that first bite, spewing my food everywhere in the process then giggling and hungrily awaiting more.  I mean, just look at that face.  Clearly nothing made me happier than eating! 

As a child, I spent a lot of my time in the kitchens of my Italian mother and grandmother; watching, learning, measuring, mixing and of course, licking any and all available spoons! My late teenage years afforded me the opportunity to take my first trip abroad, to France, where I filled my days with warm, crusty breads, velvety, creamy cheeses and tart, vinegary pickles.   I also had my first encounter with blood sausages (delicious, who knew!) and a garlicky snail or two!  My European travels and subsequent food journey continued years later with a veritable smorgasbord of sausages and brats in Germany, fresh smoked eel in Holland and of course, lots of smoky delicious Gouda.

When I signed the lease for my first apartment, I was most excited not to finally be living on my own, but to have my very own kitchen.  You see, I'd been collecting culinary tools and stashing them in boxes in my parents' attic for years in preparation for the momentous occasion so it was only natural that my obsession with eating would translate into an obsession with creating!  Over the years, parties and get togethers were replete with hors d'oeuvres and dessert trays and dinners out with girlfriends turned into missions to recreate whatever fabulous culinary creations we had consumed.  I thrived on opportunities to cook for family and friends...and no challenge was too great.  Three course dinner for my grandmother with a finicky palette? No problem! Homemade pizzas to impress a new beau? I could do it in my sleep!  Vegan chocolate cake for a dear friend's birthday? So easy!

These days, my gut reaction to good food is to do what has been affectionately dubbed my "happy food dance". I can't help it and half the time I don't even know I'm doing it but there I am, happily chewing away and bopping to the succulent soundtrack in my head.  So, maybe I've got the hyperventilating under control, but my love affair with food hasn't waned in the least.