Tuna Noodle Casserole

I think it's probably true that everyone has foods that they go back to. Their regulars, their staples. That one favorite thing that gets revisited time and time again. For me, this is one of those things:

I've probably been eating tuna noodle casserole since before I had teeth. I'll have to check with mom on that. It's a pretty basic thing---tuna, noodles (...hence the name...), peas, cream of mushroom soup, mayo, and a little cheese---but is definitely greater than the sum of its parts. It takes about 40 minutes from thought to plate, and probably costs about $8 to make, including the gas for the oven.

When casseroles started to become a larger part of the culinary landscape of middle America in the 1950s, all of those points were important considerations. Partly due to the fact that it contains no fresh ingredients, it's a very economical dish --even at a generous four portions, that's about $2 a serving, in 2009. That it's quick to make appealed to busy housewives, many of whom kept their jobs after World War II and had less time to spend in the kitchen (or shouldn't spend the time in the kitchen, as marketers endlessly told them). It requires relatively few ingredients, but still contains all the hallmarks of a healthy meal: starch, protein, vegetable, dairy--and all in one dish! Throw in the facts that it's delicious and filling (and you don't necessarily need teeth...), and it all adds up to dinner.

By the late 1970s, casseroles in general began to fall out of favor. They began to be viewed as a lower-class food; not exactly the image you wanted to portray as the 1980s were coming in. Tuna noodle casserole has hung in there, barely, as has green bean casserole around the holidays...but when's the last time you saw a chicken casserole? Or scalloped potatoes with ham?

I'll probably whip this up at least once a month. I've been thinking more about it lately, though. Why is something so delicious, economical, and easy so looked down upon? Okay, granted...not so healthy, really...but we're not necessarily a healthy nation, are we? 

Maybe it's not very pretty. I think I'll try to dress it up a little. Give it a shine. I'm going to work on making all of the ingredients, from scratch, and use fresh tuna, fresh peas, and homemade noodles. Put something together that doesn't even look like a casserole, to fool the upper crust and the food snobs.

Don't worry, though...I'll be keeping the original in the rotation. It's my comfort food, and you can't get too far away from that.

Cherry Pie

I made this last night:

It's a cherry pie kind of a thing, but not really (obviously). I had some sour cherries left over from a project I'm working on for Barker Drinks, and I needed something to do with them.  So, I got really creative...and decided to make a pie. I know, I know, I'm a visionary. But this was a big step forward for me: my first pie crust, from scratch.

Pie crust has always been a bit of a block for me. It seems like such a simple thing: it's basically just flour and fat, with a little water. But everyone has a different technique, a different fat (butter? lard? shortening? combo?), a different tool, a different song they sing backwards while they're rolling it out, etc. All of that, coupled with that fact that people put sooooo much weight on the flakiness (or not) of the crust, and it all gets a little overwhelming. I've been meaning to give it a go for years now, but it was always just easier to buy a frozen one at the store, and put some extra love in with the filling to make up for it.

Well, last night I had no frozen crust. And the cherries were sitting there, basically taunting me. "We're safe! You can't make a pie crust, get real! We live another day! Live to sit in the fridge until we grow fuzzy and you throw us out!" And on and on, with the cherries. Sheesh. 

So I decided to go for it, what the hell. I looked up a basic recipe on the internet and got started. I used butter, because butter is delicious (and it's the only fat I had. Except bacon fat...which gets me thinking. Another time...). The recipe called for putting the butter in the freezer for a half hour so it's good and cold. I didn't do that. Didn't have time really, and I was tired. But...I had frozen butter, so I went with that. It probably took a lot longer to cut it in, but what do I know? I've never done it before.

I got it all mixed, and rolled it into a ball, and put it in the fridge for half an hour. Just following the recipe...every one is different, like I said. I pulled it out thirty minutes later, rolled it out kinda haphazardly, put it in the casserole thing, and added the cherries (which I had mixed with some sugar and cinnamon. No I don't know how much. Some.), and folded the dough over the top. No fancy two-crust pie for me. Into the oven, out of the oven, cool, eat.

You know what? It was good. And I did it. Not the best I have had--it would win no prizes. But it was flaky, and tasted like a homemade pie crust. The lesson: just do it already, Barker.

Tacos!

Living in Long Beach, CA, I got spoiled for Mexican food. Literally every corner had a Mexican restaurant, and you could absolutely not go wrong. Each was better than the last, it seemed. Most Sunday nights, myself and a friend would try a different one, and never left unsatisfied. Now that I'm in New York, it's a much different story. It's pizza joints on every corner, and most of them are run-of-the-mill, at best. Tex-mex is pretty easy to find, as well as mid-level Mexican restaurants, but real, actual Mexican food seems to me to be hard to come by. 

But I think I may have found some:

It doesn't really look like much, I know. It looks like a million other delis or bodegas in the city. I actually stumbled upon it--we were in the bar next door on Lauren's birthday, and I went to the ATM to get cash. While waiting, I read the flyers and newspaper clips displayed in their window, proclaiming greatness. I had a taco that night, and it was good. But I ate it walking down the street, and after a few beers, so, you know...probably didn't enjoy it as fully as I could have.

Lauren and I found ourselves in the same neighborhood yesterday while we were ring shopping. We were looking for a snack, and the taco popped into my mind. We stopped and got two goat tacos each, Lauren with the green sauce, and I with the red. I also ordered a tamale, almost as an afterthought.

In a word...delicious. If you haven't had goat meat, Lauren describes it as a combination of dark turkey meat and pork, but maybe a little more fatty. I think that's pretty accurate. The meat here is stewed, and juicy, and fatty, and wonderful. It's got a great mouth feel, and is spiced in a way that compliments, but doesn't overpower, the taste of the meat. The tortillas are obviously not out of a bag, and are soft enough to soak up the juices nicely. Topped with onion, lettuce, the great red sauce, and lime juice...excellent. 

The "afterthought" tamale will be ordered first next time. I always say the best tamale I have ever had was purchased in a bar in Chicago out of a Igloo cooler carried around by a middle-aged Mexican man. This was a close second, I think. It was moist without being soggy, and the pork filling was excellent--there could have been a bit more of it, but the corn meal was tasty enough that you didn't dwell on it. Again, with the red sauce, lettuce, onion, and lime juice. I will be getting two of these next trip. 

One way Lauren and I measure the quality of food is how much we talk while we're eating it, and we were pretty silent for the two or three minutes it took us to scarf these down. If you're ever around 13th Street and Avenue A, you should stop. As for myself, I will probably begin making excuses to be in the neighborhood. 

Ahead of the Curve

Lauren pointed out this news story to me yesterday--San Francisco passed a law to make composting mandatory. In addition to a regular garbage bin and a recycling bin, residents will be issued another bin for compost-able material to be put out and picked up along with all the other trash. 90% of the compost goes to wineries in Napa and Sonoma counties. Fines for non-compliance top out at $1,000 for repeat offenders, but only in the most egregious cases.

But, this is news? I've been composting for, like, weeks now. Speaking of, it's all going very well. I may need to do a little tweaking for moisture content (I think I'm too moist, currently), but the worms are definitely doing their job. And reproducing! We've got lots of little worms, eating more and pooping more. And eventually making more worms, I suppose. We'll probably have worms to share at some point. I'll keep you posted.

Shhhh....you can hear them: "nom, nom, nom..."

Sloppy Joe

Whilst out running some errands in New Jersey, I came across this:

Town Hall Delicatessen, it says. A Proud Tradition Since 1927. Birthplace of the Sloppy Joe. Right there, on the sign, in big letters. That's advertising, folks. In this case, the target audience is me, and it worked. So in I went. 

I grabbed the menu, but didn't read it closely--I kind of stopped when I got to the Sloppy Joe section and the price was $16.00. Reading a bit further...they feed 2-3 people. Great, but I'm only one. I finally found, at the bottom of the menu, the "lighter side" sandwich for $9.00. One of those, please, original. 

This is what came out:

Not what I was expecting, honestly. Like I said...didn't read the menu that closely. They really had me at "sloppy", and kind of sealed the deal with "joe". Checking out the menu a little closer, it explains:

"Sloppy Joes contain two meats and a cheese, three layers of rye, cole slaw & Russian dressing. Choose from one of the favorites below, or create any combination of your own."

My "original" comes with swiss cheese, ham, and tongue. A little different than what I grew up with in Iowa, to be sure, but I'm game. And they have a good story--check it out on the menu, or on their website.

On to the sandwich. It was very good, and I ate it all. No complaints, very nice, thank you. The only problem is a personal preference, probably. I'm not that big on Russian dressing, for sandwiches. It's too big a flavor, I think...it sort of overpowers everything else. In this case, the first taste of the Original Sloppy Joe is definitely all dressing. You get a little bit of the richness of the tongue, and enough of the tang from the cole slaw to go "hey, that's not lettuce", and that's about it. If you think about it hard enough, you can taste the swiss cheese, but the ham just as well not exist. And while you're mulling all of this over, it's all Russian dressing, punching you in the face.

Now, don't get me wrong---there's nothing wrong with Russian dressing. And the Russian dressing made by the Town Hall Deli in South Orange, NJ was very good (the recipe is secret, and has been handed down since the store's opening). I just think it's better suited on, say, a wedge of iceberg lettuce. Somewhere it can shine, as the star, without having to spend it's time blocking out the supporting cast. Lettuce, Russian dressing, and maybe some tomato. Nice. 

All in all, very happy I stopped. Good stuff, and they're keeping tradition alive, which is extremely important. No mention of how the sloppy joe evolved (or devolved, depending on your point of view) into what we know it as today. I'll do a bit more research on that. I just have one other question, I guess: if the recipe is based on a sandwich that was eaten in Cuba, is the Town Hall Deli's really the "original" sloppy joe? Hmmm...discuss.

Breaking the law...

Kind of. Maybe. Okay, not really sure, to be honest. I did a little "guerrilla gardening" is all, so no big deal. I took these guys...

...and planted them. Outside, in a little strip of land, between two fences separating my building from the building next door. Not sure why there's a space between the two fences...or who technically owns it...but it's now my garden. Nothing major---some herbs (basil, parsley, etc.) and some sweet peppers. There might be some additions in the future, we'll see how it goes.

Due to the somewhat questionable nature of planting herbs in land that you don't really "own", we decided to plant at night so as not to raise the suspicions of the locals:

What? There's no law that says you have to wear shoes when planting.

It was all going swimmingly until the last little plant, when some guy that was going into our building stopped and glared at us suspiciously from afar. Lauren said hello and reminded him that she lives here, and he went on his way. I hope he doesn't tell...I wouldn't do well in jail...