I mash potatoes with a whisk, not a potato masher; I find it makes a smooth purée very quickly. Butter and milk, salt and pepper. Green salad, and then an apple and some chocolates.
Sunday, January 15, 2017
WELL, IN FACT, fish cakes. When we were first married and quite poor we used to have canned fish for dinner fairly often. In fact I think that was the only fish we ever ate in those days: canned tuna, and canned fish cakes. I didn't think too much about what exactly was in those cans. Scraps, I suppose.
Canned fish always makes me think of Cannery Row, in Pacific Grove, just down coast from Monterey. Monterey Bay is incredibly rich with sea life, and in the 1920s, 30s and 40s there were blocks and blocks of canneries there, processing mostly small fish — anchovies, sardines, what my father used to call surf fish, I think. His aunts Gladys and Myrtle had settled in Pacific Grove, and when he was twenty or so he rode the freight cars out to join them, and met my mother who was working in Carmel, and one thing led to another. I guess canned fish was part of the conspiracy that led to my existence.
Cook made these fish cakes herself. She said it was canned fish, and I didn't investigate any further. They were full of flavor: fish and onion, salt and cayenne I think. Lemon, of course. A baked potato and some romanesco, and green salad afterward.
Friday, January 13, 2017
NOT FISH SOUP: Fish last night; soup tonight.
The fish was snapper, bought Tuesday at Monterey Fish in Berkeley -- a shop we know we can count on: utterly reliable; utterly fair. Snapper's not my favorite fish; it seems often a little bland. I like salmon, tuna, cod, and for delicacy the flat fish. But there's nothing wrong with snapper, and Cook did it nicely, breading it and frying it in butter, then strewing it with parsley. With it, just about my favorite vegetable, Swiss chard; and as you see a slice of buttered toast. Delicious.
THEN TONIGHT we finished the bean soup we began the other day. As is so often the case, the flavors had merged and deepened. Another slice of buttered bread as a croustade: we eat a lot of bread in this house, and it doesn't seem to hurt us.
I had another slice, as I always do, with my green salad. How else are you going to get the last of the vinaigrette out of the bowl? And then a special dessert, a quintessentially American one I think, and one I haven't had in years: Vanilla ice cream with sliced bananas that had been tossed in cinnamon sugar. Heaven on earth.
Tuesday, January 10, 2017
YES YOU CAN teach an old dog new tricks, and you can find a new way to cook chicken. Maybe it's only new to us. Cook slathered a couple of chicken breasts with mustard, then put them skin side up on a baking sheet, added a few potatoes cut into slices, and set the sheet in a 425ª oven for a few minutes, until it was all done. The result was very nice, not dry, full of flavor.
With them, soybeans steamed on a low fire; afterward, green salad, then a tangerine. A nice reasonably quick dinner.
Monday, January 9, 2017
SOOP OF THE EVENING, beautiful soop. White bean soup tonight, while we wait for the water to rise, probably to cut off road access in both directions for a day or so. Beans, leeks, garlic, red pepper flakes; a small buttrnut squash (I'd have left that out, myself), sage, a bunch of spinach, sage, and that fine Italian soup secret, the rind of a spent hunk of Parmesan cheese.
Afterward the green salad, and then a Sunday dessert: Mrs. Beeton's Seed Cake, made with caroway seeds, very moist, almost a pudding-cake, and laced with a bit of brandy. Veering toward a zuppa inglese, perhaps. I liked it.
Sunday, January 8, 2017
Saturday, January 7, 2017
FIRST POLENTA WE'VE HADin a while, and welcome. The sauce was truly delicious: a couple of red bell peppers, an onion, a couple of crumbled sweet Italian sausages, some chicken stock, a little tomato sauce. Cook said the stock could've been better, and I won't quibble: it was store-bought — organic and all that, but a little feathery, if you know what I mean. We bought a chicken today, though, and I'll make real chicken stock tomorrow.
Green salad afterward, the tangerine, the apple, the last of Dr. Guinness's cake. Thanks again, Thérèse; I'll miss that cake…