Traditional Hummus

If hummus were a character on Arrested Development, it would be George Michael. Honest, simple, well-meaning, somewhat plain, but oh-so enjoyable.

Don’t get me wrong, on occasion I enjoy the varieties of hummus that incorporate roasted red peppers, feta cheese, zucchini, roasted eggplant, etc. But why dress up something that is so good in its plain and natural state?

Today I was in the mood for good, old fashioned, traditional hummus.

Lucky for me, I received my first ever food processor for Christmas. Owning a food processor opens many culinary doors, among them, the ability to make your own homemade hummus.

Which is exactly what I did.

The Recipe

Traditional Hummus from Cooking Light

Apprehension Meter

The meter reads fairly low for this one. The ingredient list was very simple and familiar, with the exception of tahini, which was completely foreign to me. I had no idea what to look for when I went grocery shopping this weekend, but found a jar in the Middle Eastern section of the store. I was happy to have found it, but not happy that it cost about eight dollars. Ouch.

Aside from the tahini, the only thing that sprung the apprehension meter above zero was the fact that I was going to use a food processor for the first time. Much like the first time I boarded the CTA, I was nervous and excited.

Here’s How It Really Went

Aside from some technical glitches, this one went pretty well. To be honest, it’s hard to screw this one up. Basically, you add all of the ingredients, in two phases, into the processor, pulse away, and voila, hummus.

But first thing was first: assembling the beastly Black & Decker food processor. It was actually not very difficult once I grasped the concept of how it works, but all of these weird plastic tubes and different blades were intimidating at first.

The beast, in all its glory.

Confession: I didn’t wash the processor before using it for the first time—sorry, Mom. I was too excited and couldn’t be bothered with extra steps. However, to other novice cooks out there—wash your new stuff before you use it. But you already know that.

Anyway, then came the ingredients. One can of chickpeas? Check. One smashed clove of garlic? Check. And in they go.

The recipe instructs you to pulse five times before adding the tahini, lemon juice, water, and olive oil, which is exactly what I tried to do…until I was met with a deep and vast silence. I had followed the assembly instructions, the bowl and the lid were firmly locked in place, the processor was plugged in, but when I turned the large gray knob to “P”…nothing.

I felt disappointment. Frustration. Anger. Fear. Just kidding. Sort of. I resecured the parts, tried a different electrical outlet and still, nothing.

For lack of a better plan, I resecured the bowl and the lid for the third time, and twisted the dial to “P,” and all of the sudden… loud noises! It worked! I was so shocked when the blade began to puree my chickpeas that I immediately let go of the dial. Success!

Following the five prescribed pulses, I added the rest of the ingredients (tahini turned out to be a runny paste-like concoction of pureed sesame seeds, I think). I pulsed, pulsed, and I pulsed some more. And voila! Hummus.

Note: after tasting the hummus, I ended up adding the juice from the other half of the lemon as well. But taste yours before doing this- I just really like lemon, and the juice of a whole lemon might be too much for some people.

Well, you can’t eat hummus all by itself. Enter pita chips. These are incredibly easy: simply cut a pita into triangular slices, arrange on a baking sheet, drizzle olive oil and a little garlic salt over the pieces, and pop in a 450˚ oven for about 4-5 minutes.

All in all, a quick, yummy, and healthy snack that’s fun (and loud) to make—once you figure out the temperament of your food processor.

Beef Daube Provençal

Sounds fancy, doesn’t it? And a little complicated, too. That, combined with its French origin, put this dish towards the top of my list.

I discovered this recipe on the Cooking Light website while searching for crock pot recipes. This was listed as one of the readers’ favorites, and after enjoying it, I can certainly see why.

The Recipe

Beef Daube Provençal , from Cooking Light

Scare Factor

Okay, from now on, I’m not calling it the Scare Factor anymore. I’m sick of feeling like a wimp. From now on, it’s the…

Apprehension Meter

This new device measures how apprehensive I am to try a given recipe. For this recipe, the meter reads between medium and high.

I had never used a slow cooker before. They seem incredibly easy—that’s kind of their “thing,” isn’t it?—but still, it was new to me. But what was slightly more intimidating were some of the ingredients. Two pounds of boneless chuck roast. Oh, goodness.

Seasoned home cooks are probably rolling their eyes right now, and…please, go ahead. I kind of deserve it. I’m 24. I should not be afraid of a little raw red meat.

Other ingredients listed on the recipe were fresh rosemary and fresh thyme. Key word: fresh. Fresh = buying fresh, expensive herbs, using 1 teaspoon for a recipe, then letting the rest go bad.

1 bay leaf. Ugh. I’m finally going to have to buy some bay leaves. Bay leaves aren’t scary, it’s just that at the end of my trip to the grocery store, when my basket is already so heavy it’s cutting off circulation to the lower part of my arm and I’m already over budget, an $8 jar of bay leaves seems impossible.

Here’s How it Really Went

Very, very well, actually. This dish was not only one of the tastiest things I’ve ever made, it was also fun. Chopping the garlic and browning the meat, pouring red wine into a pot in thick glugs, sprinkling herbs into a bubbling stew… you just feel like a real chef.

But it wasn’t without its complications, either. For starters, the garlic.

12 little garlic cloves, still all cozy in their peels

I was confident, having recently learned how to peel and chop fresh garlic, but once all of my little cloves were splayed out on my cutting board, I realized that the recipe called for “crushed” garlic. What? How do you “crush” garlic? Does this mean turn it into some kind of paste? I was hungry and didn’t feel like researching, so I just chopped my garlic. It turned out okay, but I think that when I make this again (and I certainly will), I’ll put more effort into crushing the garlic. It seems like that would infuse the garlic flavor into the broth a little more.

Another bump in the road: While chopping the onion, I accidentally chopped my middle finger, too. My first kitchen injury! A little soap, water, and a Batman Band-Aid and I was as good as new.

Chopped onion, carrots, and garlic, basking in the winter sun

I also have to mention that I regret not using more carrots. I used the amount the recipe called for (2 cups), but the carrots turned out to be one of my favorite parts of the stew in the end. They were so flavorful and tender, and next time I’ll be using at least 3-4 cups.

Oh dear God

Then it was onto the meat. I saved this prep step for last, simply because I was dreading touching it. Not to mention, if there’s one thing I hate about cooking, it’s trying to cut raw meat. I ended up cutting the roast into about 1-2 inch cubes, and probably ended up wasting a lot of it, because I didn’t really care to fight for the stuff that was adhered to the thick, solid strips of fat.

Sizzling away, almost ready to be flipped

When it came to browning the meat in the Dutch oven (or just a regular pot, like I used), I remembered a little tip I’d heard from Lucinda Scala Quinn of Martha Stewart Living fame: when browning meat, never crowd the pan. So, I didn’t. And I felt like a genius. I browned the meat in three batches, using my new tongs to flip the meat from side to side in the pot. (Note: if you are a novice cook and are stocking your kitchen for the first time, tongs are a must. I went without them for so long, and now that I have a pair, I wonder how I lived without them.)

Yum! Preparing for the crock pot

The part where it got really fun was adding all of the ingredients back into the pot and dousing them with red wine and beef broth. The smell was just incredible.

I know the recipe called for fresh herbs, and I had every intention of buying fresh rosemary and thyme, but frankly, it was the same thing that happens with the bay leaves (except this time I really did buy bay leaves). I was ready to check out at the grocery store, and adding two more $4 items seemed like too much for my basket and my wallet.

So I went with dried herbs, which I think worked perfectly fine.

If you make this recipe- just leave. Just leave for five hours, or you'll be forced to count down like I did.

One of the biggest challenges of this recipe? Waiting. The recipe gives you the option to bake the stew in the oven, but I don’t have a “stove-to-oven” pot that’s big enough, so I opted to torture myself by letting it simmer and cook for five hours while I eagerly checked off the hours, salivating.

Once five long hours had passed, I cooked a batch of egg noodles (per the serving suggestion on the recipe), upon which I served the stew.

And… oh my gosh. It was delicious. So good. I could hardly believe that I made it.

This recipe is really a must for other novice cooks. If you’re nervous about cooking meat, this recipe is a great intro, because when meat cooks for five hours there’s really no way it can not be done (which is always my main fear). And since it’s simmering away in a winey broth, it can’t dry out. In fact, it gets so incredibly tender, it just falls apart in your mouth.

A great, fairly easy, fairly painless, very delicious, and very fun meal to make on a cold winter weekend.

Fin.

Bruschetta: Erin Basil-Hands, Adventures in Garlic Peeling, and More

I wasn’t planning on making a post about the bruschetta that I was going to make for dinner tonight. I knew I was in the mood for some TBM (tomato, basil, mozzarella), so I thought I’d try to mimic what I’ve often enjoyed at gatherings with friends and in restaurants, and whip up a quick bruschetta for dinner.

It turned out to be kind of an amusing experience.

Welcome to my tiny kitchen.

Not exactly the kitchen of my dreams, but it's not so bad. It's actually pretty cozy.

The Recipe

I wasn’t working off of a “real” recipe here, but the plan was to make bruschetta, which, to me, means baked slices of baguette with olive oil and a garlic rubdown, topped with fresh mozzarella, fresh basil, and chopped cherry tomatoes. Here’s my version of the recipe (and my first attempt at recipe writing):

Serves 2-3 for a snack, or 1 (hungry girl) for dinner

1 baguette

Olive oil (maybe a few tablespoons?)

One clove of garlic

One handful of ripe, red cherry or grape tomatoes

One “bunch” of fresh basil

One “ball” of fresh mozzerella

One scholarship to culinary school so I learn to measure in real amounts

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Slice the baguette into inch-long slices (discarding the ends), and place on a cookie sheet or baking sheet, about four to a row. Drizzle a little olive oil on each piece of bread, just enough to coat maybe ½ of the slice. Cut your garlic clove in half, and rub the cut-side on each piece of bread. Unless you love for your hands to smell like garlic, I’d recommend trying to hold the little half-clove with a paper towel or napkin, although this gets a little tricky and slips out of the hands often. Bake bread slices for about 10 minutes, checking on them every so often after the 5-minute mark.

Slice the tomatoes into halves or quarters, depending how large of tomato slices you want on each piece of bread. Rinse some fresh basil and either tear or chop into smaller pieces. Finally, cut thin slices of the fresh mozzarella, about an inch or so long, and no thicker than a ½ an inch.

Take the bread out of the oven when it starts to turn golden brown and garlic becomes fragrant. Transfer to a serving platter or plate, and top each piece of bread with the mozzarella, basil, and tomatoes, respectively. Take your plate to the living room, nestle up on the couch, watch some Office re-runs, and enjoy.

The Scare Factor

To be honest, I wasn’t very scared of this recipe. I had never made it before, but I’m not afraid of a little TBM. I knew going into this that I didn’t have the “right” knife to slice the baguette, and that I’d need to figure out this garlic situation (see below).

Here’s How it Really Went

Slicing the bread turned out to be no big deal. I just used a small, cheap IKEA steak knife that happened to have a serrated edge. It worked really well actually.

Mmmm. Nothin' like a fresh baguette.

Then came the garlic. Believe it or not, I’ve never used a fresh garlic bulb before. I’ve always used the minced garlic that comes in a jar, simply because I didn’t know how to dismantle a garlic bulb and extract the cloves, and never bothered to learn.

I think experienced chefs often forget that instructions like “peel and chop 3 cloves of garlic” is a pretty daunting task for a novice like me.

I started by trying to peel it. It seemed like that would be the first logical step. I peeled off the paper-like layers on the exterior of the bulb… and nothing happened. I thought that when I peeled it, it would somehow come undone and reveal the cloves. That doesn’t happen. I peeled a little more, and realized that I could probably peel it forever, it didn’t seem to end.

The peeling begins.

I knew that at some point, one is supposed to whack the garlic with one’s fist. Maybe this is the step to do that?

I took my new, big knife that I received this Christmas (thanks, Dad), laid it flat on top of the bulb, and smacked my palm down on top of it. To my delight, it broke open! I found two little cloves amidst the rubble.

Well, turns out you have to peel those, too. I peeled a layer or so off, and was stunned by the very intense garlicky smell the peeled cloves produced. Finally, it smelled like garlic! Delicious garlic. I even brought one of the cloves to my mouth, and sunk my teeth into the very tip, just to taste fresh garlic. I now know that biting into a raw clove of garlic is a great way to have garlic breath that will last for at least 72 hours.

My tongue stings a little when I think of it.

I then moved onto the task of tearing up the basil. I like slightly bigger chunks of basil, which is why I choose to tear it apart with my hands, versus chopping it with a knife. However, this will make your hands smell bad. Basil itself does not smell bad. Concentrated basil rubbed into your finger tips smells like black licorice, times ten. Make sure you have a good hand soap on hand (my personal favorite is Mrs. Meyers Clean Day Lemon Verbena) and wash your hands right after.

Next was the mozzarella. Fresh out of its packaging, it resembled a very white, water-logged baseball sitting on my cutting board. I sliced thin pieces to place onto the bread.

Once I could smell the garlic toasting, I took the bread out of the oven, assembled the TBM, and that was it!

The Verdict

Considering I never really doubted this recipe, I think the verdict is an obvious one: this recipe is healthy, simple, very tasty, and filled with garlic-rubbing, basil-tearing fun. It’s great for the novice chefs out there who aren’t in the mood to tackle a huge challenge, just a little one.

Homemade Chocolate Sauce- The Most Retro of Desserts

I believe it was one of the talented writers at Martha Stewart Living magazine who so aptly said (something along the lines of): There’s nothing more retro than vanilla ice cream with hot fudge for dessert.

While this post wasn’t exactly inspired by that quote (I’ll explain in a second), it certainly explains part of why I love this homemade chocolate sauce (it’s not hot fudge, per se, but you get the idea).

You see, every holiday season, my mom whips up batches upon batches of her homemade chocolate sauce. She jars up all of the sauce she makes, and writes hand-written labels to stick on the jars reading, “Serve warm over ice cream.” She places the gold, flat, air-tight lid on the Kerr jar, wraps a holiday-themed napkin over the top, and screws the lid on tight over the napkin. She gives these jars of homemade chocolate sauce as holiday gifts to friends and family, giving the extra large jars to those in her life with a sweet tooth (hi, Grandpa).

Anyway, I decided, in the spirit of this blog and trying to learn how to cook new things, to try to make my own batch this year! With my mom’s help.

And while I have plenty of pictures to show you how lovely the sauce turned out, that’s all I can give you. I’m sorry. The recipe…you guessed it, is a family secret. But here are some hints: there are five ingredients (while the pictures don't show all of the ingredients, you can probably guess a few), it involves a double boiler (or two saucepans placed on top of one another), and it’s quite possibly foolproof!

First thing's first. You have to wash the jars in hot, soapy water. While they are soaking, you can...

...start to melt two of the ingredients in a double boiler (can you guess what they are?).

Whisking and waiting.

Here comes the fun part.

The final, delicious product.

While this particular recipe is mine to keep, I won’t leave you high and dry. Here are some other drippy, rich, chocolately, fudgy sauces from sources I place great trust in:

• Hot Fudge Sauce from smittenkitchen.com
• Chocolate Sauce from marthastewart.com/food
• Bittersweet Chocolate Sauce from Bon Appétit

Happy 2010!