Too long between posts...
I hadn't realized it was so long.
Since I last posted, I roasted a chicken (recipe to follow), made risotto for the first time in 9 months, and got a job selling cheese at the greenmarket in my neighborhood.
The job actually came out of the risotto in a way. I was up walking around on a rainy Thursday morning, passing through my local greenmarket, when I got a huge whiff of fire-baked bread. And my soul rejoiced. And I had reeling fondnesses for Zingerman's. So I went over for another smell. And the same vendor had cheese, and she was making with the samples. So, on a whim, I ask if she has anything that would be good in a risotto. I try the cheddar. I try another, a firm white cheese, not sweet, not sour, just itself, a whole flavor journey that lasts for a good minute off a tiny nibble. I buy a quarter pound (or thereabouts) and a crusty bread full of rosemary. All the while, she's talking to one of her regular customers about how she needs help on Thursdays as she's there by herself. I gather up my gumption like some crazy petticoat and ask her about the job, dropping my Zingerman's connection along the way, and she tells me to email her a resume and references.
A week later, I'm standing in the Bobolink Dairy booth, slicing cheese, passing out samples, and trying to tell the world how wonderful 100% grass-fed raw milk cheese can be. Yum. So this is definitely not a money job. It's only one or two days a week. I can't exactly pay rent on it. But I can buy GROCERIES! And I'm sure this step is no surprise to anyone who's watched me cook. Or shop. But I haven't worked this happily since I worked at Zingerman's. Maybe I really do need to work in food, for real.
So many theatre people work in the food industry. I know, practically, it's a story of flexible hours and constant demand, but maybe there's something more to it. If theatre is the collective dream, the food industry is the collective life. They feed each other. And I know there are a lot of shitty food service jobs, but I'm either lucky or self-nurturing enough to go only for the passionate, wild, idealistic, evangelical, and downright delicious ones.
Anyway, those of you who want to learn how to make a risotto, just have me show you or get a recipe from Alton Brown or Jamie Oliver. It's equal parts technique (including using the right tools) and layering of flavors. Play with it. Have fun. Everyone who likes cheese even a little bit should learn how to make a risotto.
Roasted whole chicken with pears and thyme
serves 4
1 broiler/fryer chicken
3 pears, quartered
fresh thyme
sea salt
Preheat oven to 325.
Defrost chicken if frozen (not in the microwave--the slow way).
Pat dry with paper towels, inside and out.
Rub down with sea salt, inside and out.
Cut the skin of the breast so there's a little pocket between the fat and the flesh. Do this on the thigh also. Stuff with thyme.
Stuff the cavity with quartered pears and thyme sprigs. Cram as many as you can in there without breaking any bones.
There's a nice little pocket right at the leg joint--stuff a pear quarter in there too.
Lay chicken breast side up on a roasting rack or pile of aromatic vegetables inside your roasting pan. (I like to use oiled, herbed, and salted carrots, onion quarters, and potatoes.)
Roast for a really long time, until your bird is 168 degrees in the breast and 183 in the thigh. Flip when the breast reaches 160 or so.
For bonus points, retain everything you don't eat and make stock. You know, for risotto.
This really is quite easy. And if you can't touch a raw chicken carcass, fully aware of the fact that it is a dead animal, please rethink your status as an omnivore.
I hadn't realized it was so long.
Since I last posted, I roasted a chicken (recipe to follow), made risotto for the first time in 9 months, and got a job selling cheese at the greenmarket in my neighborhood.
The job actually came out of the risotto in a way. I was up walking around on a rainy Thursday morning, passing through my local greenmarket, when I got a huge whiff of fire-baked bread. And my soul rejoiced. And I had reeling fondnesses for Zingerman's. So I went over for another smell. And the same vendor had cheese, and she was making with the samples. So, on a whim, I ask if she has anything that would be good in a risotto. I try the cheddar. I try another, a firm white cheese, not sweet, not sour, just itself, a whole flavor journey that lasts for a good minute off a tiny nibble. I buy a quarter pound (or thereabouts) and a crusty bread full of rosemary. All the while, she's talking to one of her regular customers about how she needs help on Thursdays as she's there by herself. I gather up my gumption like some crazy petticoat and ask her about the job, dropping my Zingerman's connection along the way, and she tells me to email her a resume and references.
A week later, I'm standing in the Bobolink Dairy booth, slicing cheese, passing out samples, and trying to tell the world how wonderful 100% grass-fed raw milk cheese can be. Yum. So this is definitely not a money job. It's only one or two days a week. I can't exactly pay rent on it. But I can buy GROCERIES! And I'm sure this step is no surprise to anyone who's watched me cook. Or shop. But I haven't worked this happily since I worked at Zingerman's. Maybe I really do need to work in food, for real.
So many theatre people work in the food industry. I know, practically, it's a story of flexible hours and constant demand, but maybe there's something more to it. If theatre is the collective dream, the food industry is the collective life. They feed each other. And I know there are a lot of shitty food service jobs, but I'm either lucky or self-nurturing enough to go only for the passionate, wild, idealistic, evangelical, and downright delicious ones.
Anyway, those of you who want to learn how to make a risotto, just have me show you or get a recipe from Alton Brown or Jamie Oliver. It's equal parts technique (including using the right tools) and layering of flavors. Play with it. Have fun. Everyone who likes cheese even a little bit should learn how to make a risotto.
Roasted whole chicken with pears and thyme
serves 4
1 broiler/fryer chicken
3 pears, quartered
fresh thyme
sea salt
Preheat oven to 325.
Defrost chicken if frozen (not in the microwave--the slow way).
Pat dry with paper towels, inside and out.
Rub down with sea salt, inside and out.
Cut the skin of the breast so there's a little pocket between the fat and the flesh. Do this on the thigh also. Stuff with thyme.
Stuff the cavity with quartered pears and thyme sprigs. Cram as many as you can in there without breaking any bones.
There's a nice little pocket right at the leg joint--stuff a pear quarter in there too.
Lay chicken breast side up on a roasting rack or pile of aromatic vegetables inside your roasting pan. (I like to use oiled, herbed, and salted carrots, onion quarters, and potatoes.)
Roast for a really long time, until your bird is 168 degrees in the breast and 183 in the thigh. Flip when the breast reaches 160 or so.
For bonus points, retain everything you don't eat and make stock. You know, for risotto.
This really is quite easy. And if you can't touch a raw chicken carcass, fully aware of the fact that it is a dead animal, please rethink your status as an omnivore.
VIEW 8 of 8 COMMENTS
heh, yes, it's def. make-up.
i made the dress myself, too, although technically it's a top and a skirt.
it pays to be craftyyyy
So, hon, are you going to make recipies a common feature of your journal? I'm wholeheartedly for the idea.