Chow Mein, Lo Men

  I know a lot of people who have made terrible decisions in the wee hours of the AM. Whether ordering that large pepperoni pizza at midnight, or brazenly flirting with a guy at the bar once you've slipped into those infamous "beer goggles", it's probably not something you'll be proud to text your friends about in the morning. Is it an urge to fill some troublesome void that drives us to these regrettable late night decisions? Are we hungry, lonely, or both?

People reach out for quick fixes in moments of insecurity. Even though in the back of our minds we know it's not healthy, a small voice inside justifies our actions with some excuse to make it seem okay. When we are sad, or hurt, or angry, or frustrated we are hungry for attention. Sometimes insecurities are so divinely raw, we could dip them in ranch like a stick of celery.

One night shortly after a break up, I was out at a bar having drinks with a friend . I felt fine, really, and I knew the choice I had made was the right one, but it still left me feeling a little raw. Truth be told, I felt a little sorry for myself. Instead of continuing a relationship that never completely satiated me, I had decided to take my chances and face loneliness. I was searching the bar for a decent man, but could just as easily have been sitting at home hungry with no food in the fridge.

A guy eyed me from across the bar with a Jaegermeister Spritzer in hand, looking at me like I was the missing twist of lime for his drink. I naturally grabbed my cocktail and trotted over. He was everything that I would never go for. Overly sleazy.... Terrible pick up lines, that I was taking as bad jokes. Total frat boy, and not the kind that got into the brotherhood for community service. Lime green polo with a popped collar, white visor (don't get me started on visors!), dark washed blue jeans, his high school pinky ring, and a yellow Livestrong bracelet to signify how sensitive he is to important issues. I accepted a drink from him, partially in fear that I might be left to stand alone with all the other late night binge drinkers at the bar. I was faced with a choice: eat what was put in front of me, or wait for what I was craving. It's like viewing the late eats menu, knowing that it's not worth the money because the food always sucks. It's like ordering a crisp dish of chow mien only to drive home and find you were mistakenly given the limp noodles of lo mien.

Reaching for the phone in the middle of the night seems like the right idea at the time, and it may leave you temporarily fulfilled. However, the options available in the darkest hour are limited, and usually leaves you wondering why you dialed the number. Is it better to gratify the gnawing hunger of loneliness, or to fast until a brighter hour and then feast on what will give your body, your mind and your heart exactly what it needs? The right choice isn't always the easy choice, and the easy choice can leave you with a belly full of heartache and a heart full of acid reflux in the morning. So if you do make that call, make sure you are stocked up on TUMS before the pizza man arrives.


Chicken Lo Mien:
Ingredients:
6 oz. lo mein noodles
1 tbsp. oyster sauce
2 tbsp. low-sodium soy sauce
¼ cup chicken broth
Pinch red pepper flakes
½ tbsp. canola oil
1 medium chicken breast, cut into bite-sized pieces
½ small onion, chopped
1 bell pepper, seeded and sliced thin
1 cup snow peas
4 oz. sliced mushrooms
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 tsp. sesame oil

Directions:
Bring a pot of water to boil. Cook the lo mein noodles according to the package directions. Drain and set aside. In the meantime, make the sauce by combining the oyster sauce, soy sauce, chicken broth and red pepper flakes in a small bowl. Whisk well and set aside.

Heat the canola oil in a large nonstick skillet or wok over medium-high heat. Add the chicken to the pan and cook until browned and cooked through. Add in the vegetables, each a few minutes apart, starting with the onion and bell pepper and ending with the mushrooms. Cook just until tender-crisp. Add in the garlic and saute just until fragrant, about 1 minute.

Add the sauce to the pan, and then the cooked lo mein noodles. Toss the mixture well to coat everything. Drizzle with the sesame oil and toss once more. Serve immediately.

Paella is Therapy

Is going to therapy like taking a cooking class? Does it help you better understand both your ingredients and the way you use them? This is a great example of art imitating life. If I'm using the wrong size pan to cook my paella, it will always overflow. So what do I do if I take on too much at once? Do I need to cut the recipe in half, or buy a bigger pan?

Ask a chef or a therapist and the answer will be the same. Try to perfect a smaller recipe before you take on a larger dish. Take care and pay attention to the amounts you put into life and your dishes. Too much of one spice overwhelms the taste of the other flavors. You might get all hot and bothered for a few unbeatable bites, but ingredients are meant to compliment each other not drown each other out. Whether it's work, love or food, we need balance to let each individual flavor shine and serve its purpose.


Paella:

Ingredients
1 pinch saffron
1 tablespoon grapeseed oil
1/2 pound chorizo sausage, cut on the diagonal into 1-inch pieces
1 pound boneless chicken parts, preferably skin, cut into 2-inch pieces
1 large white onion, diced
3 cloves garlic, lightly crushed with the side of a knife blade, and minced
1 cup dry white wine
1 tablespoon paprika
1 tablespoon minced fresh flat-leaf parsley leaves
1 quart chicken stock
2 cups white rice
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
1 pound mussels, scrubbed and debearded
1/2 pound (21 to 25 size) shrimp, peeled, deveined, and tails removed
1/4 cup minced fresh cilantro leaves

Directions
Add the saffron to 1/2 cup warm water and let it sit for 10 minutes to allow it to "bloom."

Heat the grapeseed oil over medium-high heat in an 8 quart saute pan, brown the chorizo on all sides and remove to a utility platter. Brown the chicken pieces and remove to the same platter.

Add the onion to the pan and saute until translucent, then add the garlic and gently cook until softened, monitoring to make sure it doesn't burn. Add the white wine and allow most of it to evaporate. Stir in the paprika, parsley, 1/2 cup of bloomed saffron, and chicken stock, and bring to a gentle boil. Return the chorizo and chicken to the pan. Stir in the rice, salt and pepper and reduce heat to medium. Cook uncovered without stirring for about 20 minutes, then add the mussels and cover. Let cook until the mussels open, about 7 minutes, then remove them to a utility platter. Add the shrimp to the pot, cover, and cook until they turn pink and opaque, about 5 minutes, then remove the shrimp to a utility platter.

Spoon the paella into a large bowl and sprinkle with fresh cilantro. Arrange the shrimp and mussels on top.

A Bad Case of the Military Man and the Drive-Thru

I recently had the pleasure of observing the similarities between a badly bruised man and the all too familiar service provided by our fast food restaurants. This man had been badly bruised both by woman and by war, leaving him as overdone as a bucket of KFC.

I've known Jake for almost a year now. When I met him I thought I had hit my own personal jackpot. He was sweet, passionate, and a pleasure to gaze at. He was the midnight McDonald's Value Meal of late night commercial breaks, tempting me to throw diet to the wind and indulge in naughty nocturnal gluttony. Unfortunately he was set to leave for Iraq in just two weeks after our first meeting. The first week and a half were great. He showed up to surprise me with sweet kisses, and even wanted me to meet his dad, in town for the weekend. That probably should have been the first sign. It's one thing for Carl's Jr. to hook you up with a Six-Dollar Burger, but a whole different story when he wants to introduce you to Big Carl and Momma. On approximately day 14 of our tryst he went M.I.A. I thought it was weird, but figured he was gearing up to go over seas. In the days before he left I received no form of communication.

Weeks went by, still nothing. Then one day I got an email. It was Jake, and he was acting like nothing had happened. It threw me through a loop. It gave me an unwary feeling that I had hallucinated everything, and was therefore the Crazy Chick. We had met right before he left, and so there was little commitment to be made. We emailed back and forth a couple times a week. Talked about what was going on with work and our lives. It was fun having a pen pal.

After three months of his absence, Jake returned. He called me the moment he got back and said he wanted to see me. I told him I had plans for dinner with my friend and her boyfriend, and invited him to come along. My stomach was growling out of nerves and hunger as he rang my apartment that night. He walked in and I introduced him to my friends, and I was reminded of what drew me to him in the first place. Wit, charm and class dripping from his demeanor like special sauce. I swear, any man that can keep up with me is a keeper! We left my place and headed by foot to my favorite sushi restaurant downtown. The warm breeze and lights lining the skyscrapers provided a comfortable and easing feeling walking down the street. Over dinner laughter filled the table as we gorged ourselves on delicious food and sake. Yellowtail sashimi with thinly sliced mango and jalapeno. Topped with a drizzle of chili sauce, Hawaiian sea salt, lime and fresh cilantro. It is heaven in a bite. Smooth, sweet, salty, spicy. It embodies ecstasy, and fits neatly in the mouth in one bite. It was a fabulous meal full of rekindled passion, great friends and decadent flavors.

I went to the rest room with my friend to have a quick girl gossip session. When we returned the boys were having an after dinner cocktail, and the bill was paid. My comment about the bill was shot down by a gentlemanly, "We got it". After dinner we decided to take a stroll around to walk off our evening of mastication. It was sweet and perfect as we walked toward the street fair, mariachi music blaring through the night air. Once we had enough, maybe even a little too much, we decided to go home and call it a night. I was completely exhausted. Jake walked me up to my door and gave me kiss full of intensity and urgency. I explained that I should head in after our brief escapade of osculation. He asked insistently to come in "for a nightcap". I knew what kind of cap he was talking about, and it wasn't the kind you put on your head. I explained that I had to get up early to prepare for a party I was throwing the next day. I invited him to come, he accepted, and we said goodnight.

I wasn't terribly surprised the next day when I didn't hear from him. Figured he was probably sleeping off the time change. Three days passed before I received a text from him. It said "hey chica, don't forget you own me fifty bucks from dinner the other night:)". Are you freaking serious? I was shocked. I don't rip off the Monopoly square at Mickey D's and win a free combo only to learn later that I actually owe them for the fries! I personally have no problem paying for myself, or anyone else, but this was just plain crazy to me. Because I didn't sleep with you, you automatically get a refund from our date? This isn't Costco, I don't care if you still have your receipt! That must be some set he has to pull something like that. Who does he think he is?

Weeks later, with no communication, I ran into him at a concert. I was completely cordial, at first. A group of our mutual friends sat around a big picnic table talking about the show, Jake wrapped up in a side conversation. Suddenly he stood up and announced, "And she didn't even suck me off". I lost it. I got up and left immediately, vowing to never speak to him again. What a freaking douche bag!!!!

Months went by, days littered with apologetic messages. He said he had made a huge mistake, he was an ass and that he shouldn't drink. I had lost all respect and attraction for this man, but unfortunately I'm a chump for a pity party. I forgave him, but explained we could only be friends from there on out. I never hung out with him one on one again. He came to a couple of my parties, but they were few and far between.

Jake appeared to be back to the normal and the non bi-polar person I had grown to know and avoid. He came out with a group of mutual friends one Friday, and we all had a blast. Jake said he had concert tickets to a show the next night and asked if I wanted to go with him and some friends. The concert was great. Lots of energy, good music and great views of drug induced dance moves. We all talked about how great the show was as we headed back to his friends apartment afterwards and when we got there I stepped out on the patio for a quick smoke. I returned from my sleepy-time cigarette to find Jake passed out on the couch. I tried vigorously to wake him, a daunting task to perform. Finally, the ogre awakened. Forseeing one of his fierce moods on the horizon, I explained that I wanted to go home. He stumbled around, gathering what was left of his intoxicated reflexes. I told him I would drive because he was tired and clearly seeing double. He looked at me, said "f**k you", and walked out. So here I am, giving a person chance after chance, only to be left at a near stranger's house in the middle of Dallas, in the middle of the night, with a dead phone? Douche bag.

The moral of the story: don't give too many chances. If that burger from Jack in the Box left you high and dry with intestinal digestive issues last week, don't eat it because it will do it again. If you are like me you might try to tell yourself regularly to give it up, and you probably do for quality periods of time. But when you have a moment of weakness and start pulling up to the grease pit, just remember this. Instant gratification is just that. Only for an instant. Whether you seek to fulfill that craving with food or with men, the outcome will be the same. What fast food and discourteous men do to our body and the way we feel after the buzz is gone, is not so gratifying. We feel fat and pathetic. Fast food and men can both leave us feeling this way. So try to eat things you are proud of. Feast upon things that are worth it, and conducive to your happiness. Smile and enjoy that burger. Just be sure to know when to call it quits. The last bite is usually the one that puts us over the edge.

The Fast Food Burger:

Ingredients
1 pound ground beef, 80 percent lean
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
4 slices American cheese
1/4 cup ketchup
1/4 cup sour cream
1 tablespoon mayonnaise
4 hamburger buns
1/4 head iceberg lettuce, shredded
2 dill pickles, sliced

Directions
Shape into 4 patties and season with salt and pepper(Don't be afraid to salt. Test batch a small amount by frying a table spoon in a pan for 3-4 minutes over low heat. Add more salt if needed). Place in a skillet that has been sprayed with nonstick cooking spray over medium-high and cook patties 3 minutes on each side. In the last minute of cooking, top the meat patties with cheese so it will melt.

In a small bowl, mix together the ketchup, sour cream and mayonnaise and spread half onto the hamburger buns and reserve the leftover for a dipping sauce for the French Fries. Place the burgers on buns and top with lettuce and pickles.

For the love of Souffles and Men

Timing. It's a weird, important and essential aspect of our lives. Whether we are cooking a roast, talking out some issues with our man, or nervously meeting a first date, we have to take the right steps at the right time. Is over cooking fish amendable? If we say the wrong thing to a man too early, is it reconcilable? Why do we over cook a dish? Is it because there is something boiling in the back burner of the mind? Or maybe a flaw in the way we were taught; or is it that we are just missing the point? We put so much time into our dishes and our love lives, so why do we approach them so carelessly?

I was talking to a friend that is dating a great guy. He is perfect in so many ways to her. Caring, driven, passionate and overall plain adorable, but he is dumbbell when it comes to timing. It's not just what he says, but his everyday actions. She has a date with him at 6, he shows up at 8. He has no idea that he's burnt the main course, and he's still thinking that he's going to get some dessert. He is obviously happy to be with her, but only shows it at his own convenience, according to his own schedule. I wonder if it's because he really doesn't have a clue. How can someone so smart be so stupid? Should she just not care? Should she take the time to see how it turns out? You wouldn't want to eat braised short ribs in the first fifteen minutes. The meat is raw, the flavor hasn't expanded and grown and the sauce hasn't thickened. So why are women taught to walk away from a chance if it doesn't seem perfect at first sight?

Feelings are the flavors of our lives. They need to ripen and mature. Is it right to sit back, and hope our whipped egg whites of a man turns into a perfect souffle? I think the answer is yes. Yeah it's important to know what you want in a relationship, and not to "settle". It's just as important to know our food allergies and dislikes. We still need to try new ingredients that are unfamiliar and daunting. If we constantly over use paprika, maybe it's time to take a break and try something new. Something we would have never thought to use. Take some time in the spice isle and look around at the options. Learn about them, and get our feet wet.

So don't let that souffle fall because you rushed it, over or under-whipped it, or took it out to soon. Don't be so axious, the end result takes time to set.


In the end we are all creatures of habit and comfort. If we choose to cook with ingredients that take time to come to fruition, we need to do so with patience. If we rush a dish that needs time, then we are lacking a true understanding of the ingredients. Patience isn't only a virtue, it's essential to making food that is edible and enjoyable. So pour a glass of wine, and watch your sauce simmer.

Blue Cheese Souffle with Fresh Figs and Honey:

Ingredients:
3 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened, plus
more for greasing the ramekins
2 tablespoons sugar, plus more for the ramekins
3 tablespoons all-purpose flour
1 cup milk, warmed
5 eggs, separated
Pinch salt
Ground white pepper
Pinch ground nutmeg
1 cup crumbled blue cheese
Pinch cream of tartar
8 fresh black mission figs, split in 1/2 lengthwise
1/2 cup honey
Confectioners' sugar, for dusting

Directions
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F.

Prepare 4 (8-ounce) ramekins by greasing them with softened butter and then coating them with sugar, tapping out any excess.

Make a thick bechamel sauce base by melting the 3 tablespoons of butter over low-medium heat in a thick-bottomed pot. Just as the foam subsides, add the flour, stirring constantly with a whisk to prevent lumps. Cook for 2 to 3 minutes to coat the flour with fat and remove the starchy taste; do not allow the roux to brown. Add the warm milk to the mixture and continue to whisk until smooth and thick. Remove from the heat. Beat in the egg yolks 1 at a time. Season with salt, pepper, and nutmeg. Stir in the cheese until incorporated evenly. Chill the mixture while whipping the egg whites.

In a separate clean bowl beat the egg whites and cream of tartar just until soft peaks form. Fold 1/3 of the beaten whites into the bechamel mixture to lighten it. Then gently fold in the rest. Pour the batter into the prepared ramekins and place on a cookie sheet. Bake on the middle rack for about 25 minutes.

The souffle is done when it has puffed over the rim, the outside is golden, and the center jiggles slightly.

Serve with fresh figs and a drizzle of honey. Dust with confectioners' sugar.

The begining

Men, men, men. What crazy creatures they are. How can something so simple be simultaneously so complex? I suspect there is a secret ingredient to understand all this madness. Food. When something goes wrong, whether it be too much oil in a dressing, or too many phone calls to a man, the end result is still the same. It just doesn’t work. I cooked up this concept in culinary school. I could apply food analogies to life situations. Each time the recipe is made, it can be altered until it is perfected. People should to take care in measuring the ingredients in both their lives and their dishes. Balance is what we seek in food, ourselves and our relationship. When people are careless about their calculations, the sauce fails to emulsify. That goes for courses too. If you eat heavy food at every course, well, you aren’t going to have room for dessert, are ya?

The Mother Sauces

Béchamel, based on milk, thickened with a white roux.

Espagnole, based on brown stock (usually veal), thickened with a brown roux.

Velouté, based on a white stock, thickened with a blonde roux.

Allemande, based on velouté sauce, is thickened with egg yolks and heavy cream.


When it comes to French cooking, it all began with the mother sauces. Back in the 19th century Antonin Carême came up with four basic ones. Béchamel, Espagnole, Veloute and Allemende. These four were and are the foundation for every French recipe. They are so simple and basic, but we couldn’t create an extravagant French dish without them. In the 20th Century Auguste Escoffier came in to simplify and decided we couldn’t live without two more, tomato and emulsified sauces, such as mayo and hollandaise. To know the mother sauces, is to have an in depth understanding of food beyond the norm. It gives us the freedom of crafting our own miracles. To possess this knowledge is to no longer be stuck in a recipe following box.. The transcendentalist believed true satisfaction can only be experienced by having a hand in every process. So to be authentically satisfied with your cup of coffee, for example, you would have to grow the beans, pick and roast them, grind and brew them all yourself in a vessel you have crafted all on your own. To reach that sense of true perfection and atonement comes from understanding how you got to where you are. Is that why foodies believe store bought cheat food is the anti-Christ? Because you don’t get to go through the full range of emotion when creating dish. Considering eating is something we take time out of our day to do, why not make it as satiating as possible? Why do we rush it? The French take six hour lunches with wine and endless courses…. Do they have it right? Are we a culture that rushes something that is not only beautiful and artistic, but essential?

Béchamel has to be my favorite sauce. With it’s rich and creamy attributes, it leaves so much to be created and append upon. Whether it is a savory gravy for your southern fried chicken, or a spicy and dazzling spinach dip. You can always start with Béchamel. My very favorite part of lasagna is when I take a bite and taste the range of different levels, textures and spice. First I taste the herbs and spices, then I travel to the land of a sharp and exquisite acid and salt. Then when I am searching my senses to organize these vehement flavors, I find my béchamel. It allows me to truly understand all the rest, while creating a level of delectation. It allows my taste buds to balance the emotion food gives me. It makes it creamy and gives it a level of depth. In an instant something as simple as lasagna has thrown me into enigma. That’s what great food does for me. It takes over. Every thought in my head vanishes all in the name of the orgasmic flavors I‘m experiencing. It’s something I don’t have control over. Food changes me. If I eat something so amazing, something that I would have never imagined the depth of the contrasting flavors, I am forever altered. The best food leaves you speechless. Without the ability to critique or comment. What other form of art excites all your senses the way food does? My immediate way of rating food is instantly measured by my nod. Sounds ridiculous, but it’s true. When I take a bite of something so delicious and delectable I can’t help but dance a little jig. It comes in waves of uncontrollable bouncing. The flavors take over my mind, body and soul.

Bechamel:

Ingredients
5 tablespoons butter
4 tablespoons all-purpose flour
4 cups milk
2 teaspoons salt
1/2 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
Directions
In a medium saucepan, heat the butter over medium-low heat until melted. Add the flour and stir until smooth. Over medium heat, cook until the mixture turns a light, golden sandy color, about 6 to 7 minutes.

Meanwhile, heat the milk in a separate pan until just about to boil. Add the hot milk to the butter mixture 1 cup at a time, whisking continuously until very smooth. Bring to a boil. Cook 10 minutes, stirring constantly, then remove from heat. Season with salt and nutmeg, and set aside until ready to use.

Espagnole:

Ingredients
1 gallon brown stock, hot
1 1/2 cups brown roux
1/4 cup bacon fat
2 cups chopped onions
1 cup chopped carrots
1 cup chopped celery
Salt
Freshly ground black pepper
1/2 cup tomato puree
1 bouquet garni
Directions
In a stock pot, whisk the hot stock into the roux. In a large saute pan, heat the bacon fat. Add the vegetables. Season with salt and pepper. Saute until wilted, about 5 minutes. Stir the tomato puree into the vegetables and cook for about 5 minutes. Add the tomato/vegetable mixture to the stock/roux mixture. Add the bouquet garni and continue to simmer, skimming as needed. Season with salt and pepper. Simmer the sauce for about 45 minutes. Strain the sauce through a China cap.

Velouté:

Ingredients
1/2 c. butter
1/2 c. flour
1 qt. chicken stock
1 tsp. salt, unless chicken stock is salty

Make a roux by cooking together the butter and flour. Add the chicken stock gradually, stirring constantly. Allow to cook slowly, simmering over low heat for 1 hour. Skim the butter which has risen to the top during cooking. Strain through a cheesecloth and season to taste.


Allemande:
Ingredients
1 pint white stock
6 mushrooms
Yolks of 3 eggs
Juice of½ a lemon, and a little strip of the rind
1 saltspoonful salt
1 teaspoon flour
1 teaspoon minced parsley
1 spoonful butter

Directions
Put the stock into a saucepan with the mushrooms cut small, and the salt, lemon-peel, and parsley. Let it come to a boil and simmer slowly for an hour. Thicken with the flour, boil a few minutes, and strain. Add the well-beaten yolks of the eggs, put it back on the fire, and stir constantly until very hot. It must not boil again after the eggs are added, or it will be spoiled. Take from the fire and add the butter and lemon juice, stirring until well blended.
Serve with either fish, meat, or vegetablest here...