What the...?

I think I need to start paying attention to my container garden again.

I’ve been ignoring it, you see, what with it being winter and all. So, no watering, no checking to see how much sun things are getting; to be honest, I haven’t even gotten around to cleaning up the dead stuff from last summer.

Imagine my surprise when I looked out on the balcony earlier this week and noticed something green and growing. Even more amazing: it was the mint. The same mint that I planted twice last summer, and which had never even sprouted.

(Bearing in mind that mint is one of those things that reputedly will take over the entire garden if not contained, because it grows anywhere. I can tell you that its total failure to thrive here made me question my gardening capabilities.)

Apparently it just doesn’t like to be too hot. I guess that’ll teach me to stop taking gardening advice from people in England and the American northeast.

I wonder if any Australians would be willing to advise me whether I’ve left it too long to plant my tulip bulbs?

Prep procrastination

Speaking of philosophical conundrums: if you have a choice in cooking, when would you prefer to do most of the work? At the beginning, or the end, of preparation?

For myself, I generally prefer making things that require most of the work at the beginning, so that when the cooking part is done, the food is essentially ready to be served. Especially when I’m trying to get a meal on the table, I find that having too much to do in the last 10-15 minutes really stresses me out.

I apparently forgot this preference this morning when I decided to make applesauce. I had a pile of apples that had seen better days, but weren’t done for yet, and I figured this was the best way to use them up. But I was also rushing around, trying to get various things done so that I could sit down at the computer and get to work. So, instead of peeling and coring them as I normally would, I convinced myself that I had read somewhere that leaving the peel on enhanced the color of the final product, and that I could remove anything I didn’t want in the mix later by putting it through a food mill.

(Please note: I was making the applesauce in a slow cooker. It was in there for hours. It came out brown. Also: my food mill is in Boston.)

When I came back to finish it off late in the afternoon, I cursed myself for my earlier decision. Then I dirtied three different perforated kitchen tools (a sieve, a frying basket, and a plastic colander) and a whole lot of utensils trying to find something that would allow me to strain through the apple mush but trap the peel, seeds, stems, and other unappetizing bits. That took a while.

On the plus side, the strained mush was much smoother than my usual lumpy applesauce, so I dumped it back in the slow cooker and cooked it down some more. I don’t know if it qualifies as apple butter, but it’s very thick. And pretty tasty.

I still have another 10 apples to use up, so I’m going to make another batch tomorrow. Which presents a further dilemma: now that I’ve cracked a method for straining out the bits, should I use the no-prep method again, or go for the traditional peel and core?

I guess I'll just have to figure out when I have the least amount of time.

Slow cooker applesauce/butter
10 apples, washed and cut into eighths
2-4 Tbsp spiced sugar*
Pinch salt
¼ cup water or other liquid
1 Tbsp lemon juice

Put the first four ingredients in the slow cooker and cook for 4-6 hours on low, until apples have softened completely.

Force apple mush through a food mill or strainer to get rid of all the stuff you don’t want in the finished product. If desired, return strained puree to the slow cooker and cook on low for another hour or so until thickened further. Stir in the lemon juice; taste, and adjust seasonings if desired.

Makes about 2 cups.

* I used sugar seasoned with cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger, and cardamom. I added more cinnamon and ginger at the end.

Retro cool?

How long does it take for something to go from being perceived as trendy, to becoming dated (and maybe even a little bit cheesy) to becoming retro cool, or even just plain cool again? Does it depend upon the intrinsic qualities of the item, or is the mere passage of time sufficient to invest the desired mystique?

Is twenty years long enough for the cycle?

I hope, over the course of this month, to answer some of these deep philosophical questions…through the medium of the latest round of the Cookbook Challenge.

Because this month’s selection, published at the height of late ‘80s cheesitude, and with the goofy graphic design and recipes from half-forgotten celebrities to prove it, is the late, great ("Not the face!") Dom DeLuise’s Eat This…It’ll Make You Feel Better!

Full disclosure: when this came up as my selection for the month, I seriously considered cheating. I was really hoping for one of the beguiling Australian cookbooks I have bought over the past few months but not yet dipped into properly, or maybe something that would help me produce some hearty winter veggie food. This seemed so…unhip.

But, if I’m going to be absolutely honest, I also have to disclose that I bought this cookbook for myself, when I was starting to focus on cooking, because I was hoping to get hold of some quantified versions of southern Italian classics (as opposed to my mother and grandmother’s method: “Throw this stuff in a pot. No, I don’t know exactly how much. Cook it until it looks done. It’ll be delicious.” Which of course it always is—when they do it). And if you’re looking for hearty, filling, minimally meaty fare, southern Italian cucina povera isn’t a bad place to start.

So, what have you got in your cookbook collection that you’re maybe a little embarrassed to own up to? Wouldn’t you like to take the Cookbook Challenge this month and find out if it’s worth its bookshelf real estate?

A quick refresher on how the Cookbook Challenge works:

1. Count up the number of cookbooks you have. (Include magazines, clipping binders, electronic folders—whatever you’ve got that you want to explore further.)
2. When you’ve got a total, pick a number between one and that total. (Better yet, if you can, have someone else do it for you, to ensure that it’s really random.)
3. Count through your cookbooks until you get to that number, and pull out the randomly selected cookbook, magazine, folder, etc. (You could also pull names out of a hat if you want to really get serious, but this is quicker.)
4. Commit to cooking at least one new recipe from that resource in the next month. Five, if you want to really challenge yourself.
5. Tell about what you discovered—send me an email, post about it yourself, comment here. Did you discover a new favorite? Or is this cookbook just a pretty face with nothing in it you can see yourself cooking?

As for me, I’m going back to the ‘80s, and will report on what I find in the kitchen there. I will not, however, be coming back wearing skinny jeans, an oversized top, and a giant belt, even if everyone else suddenly thinks this is a good idea again. I’ve already been there once, and once was enough.