Lunchbox Report Card: The Bento Session

Several weeks have passed since I first wrote about the saga of packing Belle's lunch for her first days of Kindergarten. As you may recall, there were some small successes but basically my lunchbox ensembles were landing consistently in the B-range.

This was fine, I will take above-average. But then Belle started coming home with her lunchbox contents almost entirely untouched. Maybe there'd be a token nibble from the roll, or the apple wedges would be artfully rearranged, but girlfriend was doing something at lunchtime and it wasn't eating my lunch.

My mom did some covert sleuthing and discovered that Belle was appropriating the funds set aside for her Friday hot lunch and using them throughout the week to purchase chocolate milk. As her lunch remained uneaten, Belle was happily chugging away at her sweet dairy drink, maybe even buying rounds for her friends. 

One carton of chocolate milk is all it takes to fill her up, so that explained why she wasn't eating...but now the gig was up. 

We notified the authorities and secured her Friday hot lunch funds.

We also introduced a new lunchbox into our repertoire which seems to be a big hit. It's a Hello Kitty bento box that I found at Kinokuniya, an amazing Japanese bookstore that has several locations around the country (the one in NYC is across the street from Bryant Park) and also an on-line store.

I haven't gone all bento in my lunch stylings—with Pokemon shaped rice balls and Ponyo themed fruit salads—but the specific geometry of the bento box does force you to be creative in your arrangements. And it all snaps shut with a giant elastic ribbon.

And fits in this cute sack that has enough room for a juice box or little thermos.

Belle loves this new lunchbox, it's just her size, and I'm happy to say it's daily contents have been consumed. Today I made finger sandwiches with baked ham, provolone, and butter.

Sliced ripe pears.

And a handful of Pirate Booty (separated from the pears with half of a cracker to prevent sogginess).

I also got a doggy-decorated bento for Conor, so I can pack him his own snacks when we fly to Minnesota next week for Thanksgiving at grandma and grandpa's house.

Let's hope he doesn't fling the chop sticks into business class.–Caroline

Breakfast Bowl

This may not look like breakfast to you, but the other morning I was craving protein and salt and veggies for my morning repast. This happens not infrequently, one of my favorite things to eat in the morning (besides bacon, chocolate croissants, and lemon ricotta pancakes) is a turkey, mustard, gruyere sandwich on toast.
So it wasn't so much of a stretch that for my first meal of the day, I assembled a bowl of leftover chicken stirfry, udon noodles, pickled red cabbage, and roasted sweet potatoes garnished with my always on-hand perfect condiment of miso-mayonnaise (see post: Wonder Spread).
The only other person I know who would even consider eating this instead of their Wheaties (and with gusto!) is my mom--the kids (understandably) thought it was odd (although Belle did compliment how pretty all of the colors looked).
But it was such a strangely satisfying array of flavors: the cabbage soaked overnight in rice wine vinegar and sugar; the soft sweet potatoes laced with the juice of a roasted chicken from two nights prior; pieces from that same chicken tossed in soy sauce and quickly stir-fried with the cooked udon noodles sprinkled with sesame oil. 
In Japan, I believe it's common to have miso soup, fish, and pickles for breakfast.
In Sweden there may be pickles as well (maybe this has something to do with digestion, I need to ask fellow blogger The Spice Doc...), along with cold ham or pate.
So what is the oddest thing you like to eat for breakfast? Cold pizza not included...—Caroline

Stale Bread + Pumpkin + Creme Fraiche = GOOD

I woke up on Saturday morning with a full rainy day ahead of me and two loaves of day-old baguette below me in the bread bin. With the pantry stocked with puree pumpkin there seemed like only one logical answer: bread pumpkin. For breakfast.

I dug out a not-so-old issue of Gourmet where I recalled an easy version that I had d0g-eared. I did not have enough of the requisite heavy cream, so instead I combined a bit of heavy cream, whole milk, and a container of creme fraiche, to give it a bit of tartness and extra richness.
For the bread, I would have used leftover brioche or croissant if I had it, but our neighbor Stanley had brought us two baguettes the night before that we couldn't use all of, and I didn't want to go to waste.
Here's the lovely bread after it's been tossed in melted butter and then  draped in a thick concoction of the cream/milk/creme, eggs, sugar, and spies (I used twice as much cinnamon as the recipe, a pinch of cloves, and ground ginger).
During the last 10 minutes or so of baking I sprinkled the pudding with a layer of Demerara sugar to give it a bit of a crust. The crunchy parts of a bread pudding are my favorite part, although I know some people prefer the mushy bottom.
I spend the rest of the day tearing off sections of the lovely pumpkin bread pieces, until there was only a small continent left on one the side of the dish. This had to be one of the most no-fuss dessert-breakfasts I've ever made. Although next time, I'm putting aside some croissants.—Caroline

Save the Boy

I have only been to New Orleans once—to attend Jazz Fest pre-Katrina—but it took only the one visit for me to fall madly in love with the city and it's food. One of my happiest memories is sitting at a dive in the French Quarter with Tim, spending hours eating hot red crawfish right out of the net they'd been boiled in, and washing down those spicy cajun crustaceans with cold beers out of the bottle (this was before we had kids, obviously). We even got a tutorial from a waiter on how to "suck the head" of those craw-daddies to get all the extra juice (at least I think he was a waiter, he could have been a head sucking expert passing by). 

That afternoon was a food and pleasure experience one could only have in that city and I'll never forget it.

The other deliciousness from that visit that I've missed eating were the shrimp po' boy sandwiches served at the Jazz Fest fairgrounds and the oyster po' boy I ate at a place in Uptown that a writer friend took us too. I have never had their equal in the this neck of the woods--even if I've seen them more and more on menus. The bread, the remoulade, the freshness of the seafood...cannot be duplicated in these parts.

So I was excited to see in yesterday's New York Times Dining section an article—written by the wonderful Southern food writer/expert John T. Edge— about the Big Easy rallying behind it's iconic sandwich. There is also this great slide show.

It made me want to plan a trip back immediately, just so I can suck some heads and eat some sandwiches with those talented people of New Orleans.—Caroline

Sunday Supper with Devil and Egg

On Sunday afternoon, our new home in the country was graced by a visit by from devil and egg's other half, Miss Leslie. She took the choo-choo all the way from Brooklyn to deepest New Jersey, and in return, she was given one of the loveliest autumn November days that I can remember.

As part of Leslie's visit we decided to cook a meal together for an early supper.

There was some backandforth about what we were in the mood to eat and what felt right for this time of the year: roasted duck? root vegetables?

Lesie proposed a pork shoulder. Perfect. We decided to braise the shoulder in apple cider with sauteed sweet onions and apples. For a side, butternut squash gratin and string beans steamed and tossed with lemon, salt and butter.

So here is our afternoon of preparation in photos:

Here is the pork shoulder, which the butcher had removed of it's bone. Maybe this meant we lost some flavor (not that I could tell the difference), but it also meant the pork cooked in half the time, one hour for a 3-4lb shoulder.
Here is the pork after we browned it on all sides--we left a thick layer of fat and skin on it, which I think is important for keeping in moisture and adding flavor.

Here are the sliced onions and one large apple, which we cored but left the skin on. We added the onions and apples to the pot after browning the pork and let it all sauté for about 8-10 minutes until softened.

At this point we put the pork back into the pot and added enough apple cider to reach about half way up the pork. We covered and put the pot into the oven to cook at 325 degrees. The apples disintegrate with the heat of the hot liquid, so when you open the pot at the end of cooking,  they've disappeared into the sauce, adding more flavor and thickness. 

We then removed the pork and reduced the sauce even further over high heat, until it was almost like a rich gravy. Although we were following a recipe on epicurious,  I think next time I will consider adding a bay leaf or maybe some juniper berries to the braising liquid; or maybe some port to the sauce, something to give it a bit more depth; but really, it's fine as it is in this simple form.

While the pork cooked, we ate. It was such a mild and goreous day, we decided to dine al fresco with a spread of bread, ham, apples, smoked salmon, pickles, hummus, cheese and mustard. And because we were feeling very European (and the children were napping) we also poured a bottle of Belgium Lambic Framboise (raspberry beer). As Leslie said, it was like adult Kool-Aid it went down so easy.

After lunch we got started with our gratin. Here is the beautiful, bright orange, butternut squash. A lot of times I'm tempted to use the pre-cut squash you find at the market, but really, if you have a sharp knife you can cut one of these up 1-2-3. And I do think it tastes better when it hasn't been chopped days earlier and entombed in plastic.
Leslie got to experience firsthand Maggie the underfoot dog, waiting for something to drop.

As a garnish for the pork we decided to use pomegranate seeds. I've never learned how to properly open up and de-seed one of these ancient fruits without tuning myself and my surroundings a murderous red. But Leslie taught me a trick: cut off the top and bottom, score the skin as if you're following the longitude of a globe but stopping at the equator, and then put the fruit in a bowl of water. Let it sit a bit so the pith starts to disintegrate, and then working underwater, remove the seeds. Any juice seeps into the water, and all the seeds tumble out easily into the bowl. Belle thought this was great, renaming them "Leslie's berries".

For the squash we sauteed some onions first with thyme and sage and then put them on the bottom of a gratin dish. Then used the same skillet to saute the cubed squash until softened.

Place on top of the onions, pour a 1/2 cup of heated milk over the top, and then sprinkle with salt, pepper, and gruyere cheese. Lots of gruyere cheese.
We baked the gratin in the oven at 375 with foil on top for about 15 minutes, and then removed the foil and baked for another 15 minutes until bubbly and browned. If you have the time, and want this to be a bit richer, you can make a roux first with melted butter and flour and then whisk in hot milk to this for a bechamel sauce. But if time is of the essence, the hot milk will do.

Here is the finished pork with the rich onion and cider sauce and a few bright pomegranate seeds on top. One hour was all it needed to be cooked perfectly. We didn't have much in the way of leftovers but I'm sure the pork would be delicious the next day on a sandwich.
Early Sunday supper may be my new favorite thing, and although I prefer cooking solo when it's for a weeknight meal because I need to focus and move like I'm in the zone, for leisurely, lambic-fueled weekends, I think it's much more enjoyable to have a partner in the kitchen for bantering and sharing the work. I'm going to try and make early Sunday supper a regular part of this winter, even if I can't recruit Leslie and have to rely on the dog for company— what do you think? Who do you like to cook with for leisurely suppers and what would you make?—Caroline

Babble!

Hi there-
So in the fickle mileu that is the World Wide inter Web opportunities for blogging come and go. I was so thrilled to be a contributor for Cookie magazine's website, and then alas, the magazine was sadly folded.
But now a new opportunity has arisen for devilandegg to spread the gospel of pancakes, frugal dining, and family suppers:
Babble.com this popular very cool parenting site has just started their own food blog called Nibbles.
And they have asked several bloggers (along with devilandegg) to become regular contributrs to the site!
Here is a link to the fritter post they have up today--please feel free to add a comment.
And thanks for your support!—Caroline

Little Tomato Toasts

This is something I love to make for when I have people coming over and we need a few nibblies (Ab Fab!) before we eat or just to justify early cocktails: little roasted tomato toasts. They are an amuse bouche that brings a bit of summer to the heart of winter. So easy, so satisfying, and you might even be able to pass it off to the children as wee pizzas.
Basically I use one container of cherry or grape tomatoes.
Split them all in half.
Toss with olive oil to lightly coat and then lay on a baking sheet.
Sprinkle with salt and pepper.
Put in oven preheated to 250 and let them roast for a couple of hours until they've turned into melty tomato candy. You can keep them in a bit longer if you're busy.
When tomatoes are done, slice loaf of French bread and lightly toast the slices under the broiler.
Place one or two tomatoes on top of toasted bread, top with chopped basil and parmesan (or pecorino or feta).
Maybe a bit more olive oil and light sprinkle of balsamic vinegar.
Serve.
Some Sundays I even make a couple of trays worth of tomatoes because then I can eat them all week in sandwiches or mixed in pasta. They're addictive.—Caroline

First Stew of the Season: Beef with Carrots

When I make beef stew I have to admit, I don't make it for my kids or my husband.
I make it for me.
Because I love it and sadly they don't.

How they can't appreciate tender slow cooked meat over buttery egg noodles, covered in sauce perfumed with wine...I don't know.
The kids just like the noodle part and Tim prefers his beef in steak form, but I make it anyway, because I'm the Big Cheese! 

And for the delicious smells alone it's worth getting the crooked eye when they say:  "Are you making stew? Ech."
At least now our family at home includes my mom, and I finally have another partner in stew love.
She also loves carrots (and let me just say here that when I make stew, I don't use those baby carrots, I use the long kind, the kind that Bugs Bunny munches upon, because I just think they have more flavor. ).
So how perfect was it that when I opened up my brand new copy of Canal House Cooking, Volume 2, I discovered their recipe for beef with carrots.
I've written before (see ribs) about the wonderful new cookbook/periodical that is the food love child of Melissa Hamilton and Christopher Hirsheimer. Each edition (the cover above is for volume 1, volume 2 has a well-used Creuset pot on the cover) is organized by season and this latest volume is full of recipes that will have you looking forward to a long cold winter and holiday season (although I don't know when I'll have the nerve to attempt there pumpkin soup in a pumpkin).
Their version of boeuf bourguignon includes prunes and anchovies, which add a lot of interesting flavor (I might actually up the prunes next time). The final dish was so good, that my mother has been eating the leftovers for breakfast. She can't help herself!

So what's your first stew of the season?—Caroline

Broke...again

So, it’s happened again—except this time it’s worse. I’m basically broke and I have two weeks to go until I get paid. Well, not exactly broke, but living in times lean enough that I should probably cook whatever is in my fridge and like it.

Lucky for me, my best friend and her family are in South America for a couple of weeks and she asked me to pick up her CSA. Normally, I cringe at the farm share. Yes, I realize how important it is to support local farms, but there is only so much kohlrabi and tat soi a single woman can eat in a week. And let’s be honest, I can’t woo potential men to my apartment with an abundance of bok choi.

But this week I brought home, among a bunch of broccoli rabe (with suspiciously, no florets, yet I was assured that it was indeed, the leafy bitter green that I normally avoid at all costs), lots of veggies that I like—a couple of varieties of apples, some yellow potatoes, sweet potatoes, mesculin mix and a some really gorgeous broccoli (the normal kind, the kind that I like).

I also had some leftover poached chicken from a recipe I was testing on Sunday and some sour cream from an apple cake I made (more on this soon), so…chicken salad. Here’s what I did: Picked through some rotting, untouched basil in the fridge bought on Saturday to find a couple salvageable leaves. Threw them in my mini Cuisinart with an anchovy filet, the some sour cream, lemon juice, a pinch of cayenne and salt and pepper.

That looked good, but then I saw the apples in my fridge—and abundance of apples, from apple picking and the CSA...Waldorf salad! So, I chopped up half one and toasted some pine nuts: I’m calling it Luquer Salad, after the name of my lovely Brooklyn street.

I served it with the sweet potatoes I roasted. Not too terrible for a Monday night dinner. I better like it, I’ll be doing it for the next two weeks. —Leslie

Frittering Away

Sunday morning I went off-script with breakfast and decided to make something other than pancakes. Since we are down to our last few orchard-apples (I used jonagold and honeycrisp) I wanted to use them in the most delicious way possible, and that's when I remembered the apple fritter recipe in my new favorite cookbook, The Craft of Baking.
An apple fritter is basically pieces of apple (this recipe recommends cutting the apple in ring shapes, so they resemble donuts, but you can do thin wedges as well, and at the end of the frying I started throwing random apple pieces into the batter, it tastes good no matter what the shape that are dipped in batter and fried. Before you dip the apples in batter though, you sprinkle them with a mixture of sugar and cinnamon and then let them sit a bit to soak up the flavor--this is something I never did before but I thought it made for an even more apple-pie like filling.
Before peeling, coring, and slicing the apples though, you make the batter, which consists of flour, sugar, and cinnamon, mixed with egg yolks, beer (I used Brooklyn Lager), and vanilla. The mixture should sit for 30 minutes (which is when you'll prepare your apple), and then right before frying, you beat one egg white into soft peaks and then fold the whites gently into the batter (a technique which works wonderfully with pancake batter as well).
Once your apple pieces have sat with their sprinkle of sugar, and the batter has had time to rest and then incorporate the egg whites, it's time to fry.
Into a Creuset pot (I think you can use any heavy duty shallow pot but I think the cast iron variety heats quickly and more evenly) I added peanut oil about two inches high, and put the heat on medium high (your oil is ready when it it reached 350 on a thermometer and has an active bubble when you put the apples in). I then made stations: apples and batter to the left of the pot, and to the right, paper towels for placing the finished fritters right from the pot, and next to that another sugar/cinnamon/dash of salt station for coating the warm fritters--this job fell to Belle.
I made two apple slices at a time: dipped them in the batter, making sure they were evenly coated, put them carefully in the hot oil, I used bamboo kebab sticks I had handy (you'd be surprised how handy bamboo kebab sticks are to have around) to flip them once they turned golden on the bottom (about 2-3 minutes a side) and then placed them on the paper towel .

Belle dusted and then served— we were basically frying and eating simultaneously because fritters, like most fried delicacies, should be consumed warm and immediately.
Belle and Conor LOVED them--a) because they are "O" shaped and obviously look like donuts:
And b) they were melty apple goodness, coated with a crispy shell, and dusted with sugar and cinnamon. How can you go wrong?

And you really don't need to serve anything else, just a side of lemon and a cup of coffee.

My mother says that when my grandmother used to make fritters, she would clean the frying oil, straining out all the bits, and then reuse it for cooking french fries, which would turn out even better after absorbing the residual flavor from the fritters...I'm going to make sure I have some potatoes handy next time.—Caroline