City Kitchen Chronicles: Lentils with Burnt Onions

City Kitchen Chronicles is a bi-weekly column about living frugally in Manhattan. It's penned by the lovely Jaime.

I never thought of myself as liking lentils particularly much. Sure, lentil soup can be great, but lentils themselves? Meh. And then a couple of weeks ago I made a big batch for some in-the-end underwhelming lentil burgers, and had about a cup of lentils leftover. I took a bite. I added a little salt. A bit of ketchup. And I was in heaven.

Lentils, like beans and kale, are a food I’m happy to discover a love of. They’re super-cheap, going for $1.65/lb or so by me, and super-healthy, an excellent source of fiber, iron, B-vitamins, and good vegetably protein.

So when I was catching up on some blog reading (right now my bloglines subscriptions have 1068 unread items – whoops?) and came across a recipe for burnt onions over lentils and rice, my attention was piqued.

Let me get this straight – as tasty as carmelized onions, but twice as fast and way less precise to make? And goes great over cheap healthy superstars lentils and rice? All with ingredients I have?

Mark Bittman says, “Burn those onions,” and I say, “Okay!”

The Bitten post opens with an exchange that makes me feel like all this time there’s been a division in the world I didn’t even know existed – between those who know about burnt onions, and those who don’t:

A friend came over the other day.

“What did you have for lunch?”
he asked.

“Lentils and rice.”

“I hope you made crispy
burnt onions.”

As a matter of fact I had, and we had a communing
food moment about how this was one of the greatest pairings ever.

I had no idea! But, well, now I do (or did), and I set to work pretty quickly. I had lentils and rice, I had a nice big yellow onion. I can’t really bear to make a meal without some good vegetable representation (and can’t bear to let onions be the only ones), so I added some diced carrots (Why does no one ever talk about how dirt cheap carrots are? $0.79/lb. It’s amazing.) and a few handfuls of baby spinach, a bit of a splurge, for that I’m-eating-green-vegetables feeling.

While the vegetables were cooking I kept worrying over my lentils and rice. Cooked plain and mixed together they were so bland, and even salt wasn’t bringing out any flavor. My thoughts turned to my beloved lentil soup recipe, and I reached for balsamic vinegar. Turns out I’m a total freaking genius – the sweet/sour vinegar with the sweet/bitter onions is magical.

Not that the moral here is “I’m a genius.” It’s more “this is a delicious, easy meal” and “Thank you Mark Bittman.” I’m very glad to be in the burnt-onion club, and invite you to join in as well.

(Note that if you’re going to be reheating this for lunches, you may want to omit the spinach. It can get weird and oddly overpowering after the microwave. This also cuts each serving’s cost by about $0.30.)

Lentils with Burnt Onions (And Some Other Things)
(adapted from Mark Bittman)
serves 2, but easily increasable

1 cup cooked brown rice
1 cup cooked lentils (use black or green – red lentils will turn to mush)
2 medium onions, halved and sliced
3 medium carrots, diced
a few handfuls of baby spinach (about 1 cup)
1 T canola or mild olive oil
3 T balsamic vinegar, or to taste
salt to taste

1) Heat oil in a pan over medium-high. When it’s good and hot, add the onions (they should sizzle). Add a little salt.

2) Cook onions until they start to brown, stirring occasionally. Lower the heat a little, and keep cooking, stirring more frequently.

3) In the meantime, combine lentils and rice in a big bowl. Salt to taste. Add balsamic vinegar, set aside.

4) When the onions are pretty shriveled, about 15 minutes or so, add the carrots, and cook until onions are blackened and blistered in spots. (Add your carrots earlier if you like them more cooked.)

5) Stir in spinach; cook just until it’s wilted.

6) Add veggies to rice and lentil mixture. Salt to taste. Enjoy!

Approximate Calories, Fat, and Price Per Serving
384.5 calories, 9 g fat, $1.08

Calculations
1 cup cooked brown rice: 215 calories, 2 g fat, $0.11
1 cup cooked lentils: 220 calories, 1 g fat, $0.37
2 medium onions: 88 calories, 0.5 g fat, $0.40
3 medium carrots: 75 calories, 0.5 g fat, $0.25
1 cup baby spinach: 7 calories, 0 g fat, $0.63
1 T canola oil: 124 calories, 14 g fat, $0.07
3 T balsamic vinegar: 40 calories, 0 g fat, $0.30
salt to taste: negligible calories and fat, $0.02
TOTAL: 769 calories, 18 g fat, $2.15
PER SERVING (TOTAL/2): 384.5 calories, 9 g fat, $1.08

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Posted in: City Kitchen Chronicles,Mains,Vegan,Vegetarian

City Kitchen Chronicles: Pecan Cookies and Baking Conundrums

City Kitchen Chronicles is a bi-weekly column about living frugally in Manhattan. It's penned by the lovely Jaime.

In terms of my current cooking confidence, I wouldn’t say that I’m scared of baking. For cooking (as opposed to baking) I’m an improviser, but I enjoy the recipe-following of baking. It’s been thoroughly impressed upon me that baking recipes must be followed precisely – the balance of flour, fat, liquid, and leavening is a science, and not a place for uninformed tinkering. When I get the chance to bake, I enjoy it.

I took one such chance last week, making cookies for my dad’s Passover seder. (The seder is the Passover dinner. “Seder” means order, and, when observed thoroughly, it’s a run-through of over a dozen steps – bless the wine, wash your hands, eat the green vegetables, bless some more wine, bless and eat the matzah, recount the ten plagues, etc.) I’d stumbled across what looked like an easy, tasty recipe, and I’m discovering that I really love sharing food I’ve made, the making and the sharing. It warms my heart.

So, anyway, this recipe. I realize that as it’s flourless (and simple) it doesn’t really fall under the whole DON’T ALTER THE BAKING RECIPE thing. I mean, not that it would work as well if messed with, but it’s not a cake. But this was an occasion to learn a different baking lesson: read the Epicurious comments, and listen to them.

This recipe has 17 reviews, ranging from four forks to zero. Let’s look at a few:

After making this and having it spread into one giant mess, I realized the egg whites need to be beaten to soft peaks. What a waste of expensive pecans.

Great cookies! I beat the egg whites until they held a peak but were not stiff or dry. The batter spread but puffed up during baking. My husband always prefers something with chocolate, so I melted chocolate chips and made sandwich cookies with the melted chocolate in the middle. They were enjoyed by all.

There is something wrong with this recipe. I tried it twice and wasted all my ingredients. The batter spread into one big mess. After reading other reviews perhaps the egg whites need to be beaten until stiff. I hope you can advise.

… I had a little batter left over after the first batch and I made much smaller cookies i.e. a very level tablespoon. For some reason these cookies did not flatten out the way the larger ones did.

…Ok, so I have now made these cookies 3 times. I have whipped the egg whites and only lightly beaten them. Either way had no impact. The trick to these cookies is the parchment paper.

…Recipe should be more specific about what to do with the whites.

Do not bake them for the time recommended, as you will end up with burnt cookies (which I did). For the second batch, I turned the oven down to 350 and baked them only 10 mins. You really have to watch them.

Okay, there’s obviously something tricky going on here. I decided I would make a sort of test run batch for a potluck the week before Passover. If things went well, I’d make them again for the seder.

And things did not go well. Mostly because I pretty much followed the recipe, rather than heeding the comments. I baked the cookies on parchment, but they still spread. I beat the egg whites until foamy (the recipe doesn’t specify anything beyond “lightly beaten”) rather than until they made soft peaks, and the cookies were flat. I baked at the recipe-specified 375, and they burned.

By the time the last sheet of test-run cookies went in the oven, I’d turned down the heat, so at least they weren’t burning, but they were not what I’d call a success. I almost didn’t tackle them again for Passover, but what cookies weren’t burnt were, although ugly, pretty dang tasty.

So the day of the seder, I gathered my ingredients, revisited the comments and reviewed my experience, and set to work. And I ended up with a pile of delicious, unburnt cookies that were only mildly ugly. I could convince myself they were lacy rather than pockmarked. I consider this a success.

But let’s look at how many changes/clarifications are necessary to make the original recipe work:

• Change oven temp from 375 to 325.
• Adjust baking time from 15-17 minutes to “just watch them.”
• Clarify that “lightly beaten” is actually “beaten until they form soft peaks, and then a bit longer for good measure.”
• Emphasize that parchment paper is necessary to make these cookies work.
• Form cookies from teaspoons of batter rather than half-tablespoons.
  

Oh, also, because my mostly Dominican neighborhood doesn’t stock Kosher for Passover ingredients in the supermarkets, I made these with corn starch rather than potato starch. That doesn’t change the recipe or the cookies other than making them not actually Kosher for Passover.

My dad’s seder was a very lax place.

Crunchy Pecan Cookies
Makes about 35 cookies
Adapted from Gourmet/Epicurious

1 ½ cups pecans
1 cup sugar
¼ cup corn or potato starch
¼ tsp salt
¼ tsp cinnamon
3 large egg whites

1) Pre-heat oven to 325. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper. (I think a silpat might work for this, but an unlined baking sheet will probably be bad news.)

2) Chop 1 cup pecans.

3) Combine remaining ½ cup pecans, sugar, starch, salt, and cinnamon in a food processor. Pulse until until "finely ground," but not long enough so it becomes pasty.

4) To a large bowl, add egg whites. Beat them with a hand mixer until you get soft peaks. (Err on the side of overbeating.)

5) Gently mix food processor mix into egg whites, then stir in the chopped pecans

6) Drop teaspoons of batter onto baking sheet with 2” space and bake until cookies are lightly browned, 12-20 minutes. (Eyeball it.) Slide parchment off the sheet and on to a wire rack. Once cookies are completely cool, remove them from parchment.

7) Cookies can be stored in an airtight container for up to a week. (They age well, getting nice and crispy the next day. Just make sure they’re totally cooled before sealing them up.)

Approximate Calories, Fat, and Price Per Cookie
62.3 calories, 3.6 g fat, $0.14

Calculations
1 ½ cups pecans: 1233 calories, 128.5 g fat, $3.75
1 cup sugar: 774 calories, 0 g fat, $0.50
¼ cup corn starch: 122 calories, 0 g fat, $0.05
¼ tsp salt: negligible calories and fat, $0.01
¼ tsp cinnamon: negligible calories and fat, $0.01
3 large egg whites: 51 calories, 0.2 g fat, $0.70
TOTAL: 2181 calories, 128.7 g fat, $5.02
PER COOKIE (TOTAL/35): 62.3 calories, 3.6 g fat, $0.14

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Posted in: City Kitchen Chronicles,Desserts and Snacks,Vegetarian

City Kitchen Chronicles: Beyond Thunderdome

City Kitchen Chronicles is a bi-weekly column about living frugally in Manhattan. It's penned by the lovely Jaime.

"With the economy in a dark, dark place, we thought it was pretty obvious where society is headed. So TBTL introduced The Thunderdome Beach Diet. Can you eat for $3 a day?”
That was the call to arms, or at least, the announcement, posted on the website of TBTL, one of my favorite podcasts. TBTL, or Too Beautiful To Live, is a radio show from Seattle. It’s funny, smart, random – sort of like a really fantastic blog, but in radio format – and in the last year I’ve come to have a lot of affection for it and its hosts.

And, for a little more background: Mad Max: Beyond Thunderdome is the third movie in the Mad Max series (I had no idea there was more than one), about Mel Gibson … um, doing stuff … in post-apocalyptic … somewhere. Australia, maybe? I have never seen these movies.

Anyway, the point is, Thunderdome = a scarily near-future world where society’s fallen apart and things are a little more primal, a lot more dangerous, and, ha, isn’t that where things seem to be going with our economic crisis.

This sort of pop-culture-referencing, topical-yet-not-too-serious sensibility is part of what I love about TBTL. Their Preparing for Thunderdome series sounds like a fun way to acknowledge the economic crisis but have an excuse for adding some silly stuff to the show. (see: Week Two, Fighting in Thunderdome.)

But when I heard about the planned Thunderdome Beach Diet, I was … cautious. The plan: for four days, eat on $3/day. (This includes booze, a true test for my beloved TBTL hosts – they ended up just going sober.) It’s not the first eat-on-very-little project I’ve encountered – there’s the One Dollar Diet Project, 30 Bucks a Week, even Oregon Governor Ted Kulongoski. But I was mostly concerned because of how many people (hi, this is me) eat on a limited budget daily. Not as a project. Not as a whoa, this is crazy, can’t wait till it’s over and we get to go back to normal sort of thing.

Because I’m one of those people, the people who think about how much we’re spending on food all the time. Sometimes I splurge, but my bank account feels it. It’s never carefree, never just oh, whatever I want. It’s: well, if I buy this, then I can’t see a movie this weekend, or I have some soup in my freezer, so I guess I can go out for a drink. I didn’t want this project, and the way TBTL handled it, to be about emphasizing the distance between their lives and mine, and I was sure I couldn’t be the only listener feeling that.

I was also hearing a lot of talk about ramen, and if I’ve learned one thing from reading, and then writing for, this website, it’s that you can eat really cheaply and still get vegetables and protein and whole foods and general healthiness. Unless you’re in college, talking about ramen means this isn’t a real way to eat.

And so last week, the hosts of TBTL went on The Thunderdome Beach Diet, living on $12 for four days. Three people are on the show – host Luke, producer Jen, and engineer Sean. And each took a different approach.

Sean bought milk and cereal, and ingredients for a giant egg, cheese, and rice casserole that he ate for the week. Luke bought eggs, tortillas, beans, jalapenos, a bag of salad greens, and some cheap chicken thighs that turned out to be mostly bone. And Jen… well, Jen had surprise dental surgery in the middle of the week, but I think her plan was a lot of rice, eggs, and canned green beans.

Hearing those menus, first of all, made me seriously appreciate how much I’ve learned in the year or two I’ve made eating cheaply a priority. (Well, I’ve made paying off my damn credit cards a priority, and in order to do so, I eat cheap. And in order to be healthy-ish, I don’t live on ramen.) Some TBTL listeners did the diet along with the hosts, and the hosts were shocked at what people were eating for $3 a day – tasty sandwiches and hot chocolate and homemade popcorn. But when you know how to cook from scratch, from ingredients, you save so much money. Every time they described a meal of canned beans or milk and cold cereal, I thought of what you can save cooking with dried beans, or how much more filling and healthy a bowl of oatmeal can be (and cheaper, too, I think), or how you can buy flour and make your own tortillas.

But this is knowledge that we’re not born with, that we don’t pick up in school or even necessarily from our parents. Thank goodness for the internet, and its gift of sixty-cents-a-serving lentil soup, and bless the $1.50 bag of frozen spinach.

That was my main takeaway – gratitude and appreciation for the knowledge I’ve gained, the skills and awareness that’ve changed how I look at food – at what I eat, what I buy, the way I spend my time (cooking). But what did the TBTLers learn?

Wrap-up included a lot of “It’s amazing (and shocking) that people live like this all the time.” Luke said something at one point about how it made him realize that having money means not needing to be careful – if the chicken’s gross, he can go out to eat; if the eggs break, he can go buy more. But not in Thunderdome! As much as I can think he’s naïve or sheltered to have never realized that before (and he happens to have grown up without a lot of money), maybe I’m naïve to assume that everyone should have that sort of awareness, or that everyone should already know how to eat cheaply without resorting to ramen or fatiguing repetition.

Sean was pretty happy with his week of casserole, although he readily admitted he couldn’t eat like that forever, but Jen felt a strong emotional drag from her diet. Not to have choice, not to have indulgence, not to get the pleasure she was used to from her favorite wine or tasty cheese and crackers – it really brought her down. I wanted to be able to reach through the radio and say, “It doesn’t have to be that way! There is variety! There are vegetables!” But also: “Dude, I totally understand.”

But, of course, after Friday, the TBTLers went back to their previous ways – their bigger budgets and different concerns. And those of us living on a little less are still eating with what money we have. But The Thunderdome Beach Diet made me realize that what I know, what I know how to do, is, in a weird way, sort of special. Like I have this secret knowledge, the key to unlocking the grocery store or whatever, a magic spell that turns a beans-and-eggs budget into kale and delicious soup and chocolate. (I totally budget for good chocolate.) And as much as it’s most of the time a huge pain in the butt, it’s good to remember that it’s kind of awesome, too.

(Photos courtesy of Spartan Tailgate and Ning.)

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Posted in: Buying Food,City Kitchen Chronicles,Cooking,Frugality

City Kitchen Chronicles: Date Coconut Balls

City Kitchen Chronicles is a bi-weekly column about living frugally in Manhattan. It's penned by the lovely Jaime.

In my years as a lactose-intolerant vegetarian, I’ve done a lot of vegan cooking. It’s often cheaper, and I love the creativity involved. Folks on “special” diets in general naturally have to get creative in their cooking. I’m not giving up eggs any time soon (for breakfast or in baking), but openmindedness has brought me to so many great recipes.

There seems to be a certain solidarity among folks with special diets. Sure, there are probably some crazy vegans who thing lacto-ovo vegetarians are unprincipled, or raw foodists who think vegans are killing themselves with cooking, but for the most part there’s a lot of understanding – gluten-free eaters can find especially compassionate waiters at vegan restaurants, whole food-ists understand the intricacies of raw eating, etc.

There’s also great cross-polination among recipes. I certainly wasn’t looking for raw recipies when I came across this one, nor vegan, gluten-free, or kosher for Passover, but here it is.

Before you run away, terrified of crazy person health food, let me say two things:

1. I’ve fed this dish to meat-eating, non-health-foodie friends, and they love it.
2. It’s cookies.
   

And tasty cookies at that.

Date Coconut Balls
Makes approx 30 balls
Adapted from suite101.com

1 c raw (untoasted) almonds
1 c plump dates (a generous cup)
3/4 c unsweetened shredded coconut, divided
1/2 t vanilla extract
1/2 t cinnamon
pinch of salt
1/2 c mini chocolate chips (optional)

0) Optional: pre-soak the dates and almonds in cold water. Almonds: a few hours; dates: 15-30 minutes.

1) Food-process the almonds to small crumbs. (If you have a tiny single-person food processor, you may have to do this in batches.)

2) Add a couple of dates and process again, until combined. Repeat until dates are gone.

3) Add vanilla, cinnamon, and salt. The mixture may look dry and breadcrummy, but it should eventually make a ball. If this doesn't happen, add a couple more dates.

4) In a medium bowl, combine date mix, chocolate chips, and 1/2 cup coconut. Stir thoroughly.

5) To a separate bowl or small dish, add remaining 1/4 cup coconut. With your hands, mold dough into 1-inch balls. Then, roll them around the coconut until coated. 

6) Place balls onto a baking sheet lined with parchment paper or waxed paper. (Or silpat. Or aluminum foil.) Chill in freezer several hours, until firm. "Remove from freezer and serve thawed."

(Note from Suite 101: "You can store these in a sealed container in the fridge or freezer. They taste best when cold, but not frozen.")

Approximate Calories, Fat, and Price Per Piece
83 calories, 5 g fat, $0.18

Calculations
1 c raw almonds: 821 calories, 72 g fat, $1.75
1 c plump dates: 628 calories, 0.3 g fat, $2.00
3/4 c unsweetened shredded coconut, divided: 480 calories, 44 g fat, $0.75
1/2 t vanilla extract: 6 calories, 0 g fat, $0.06
1/2 t cinnamon: negligible calories and fat, $0.02
pinch of salt: negligible calories and fat, $0.01
1/2 c mini chocolate chips: 560 calories, 32 g fat, $0.80
TOTAL: 2495 calories, 148.3 g fat, $5.39
PER SERVING (TOTAL/30): 83 calories, 5 g fat, $0.18

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Posted in: City Kitchen Chronicles,Desserts and Snacks,Vegan,Vegetarian

City Kitchen Chronicles: Not Your (Well, My) Grandma’s Cabbage Soup

City Kitchen Chronicles is a bi-weekly column about living frugally in Manhattan. It's penned by the lovely Jaime.

My grandmother died a few years ago, and it’s interesting what bits of life remind me of her. Thanksgiving’s transitioned from a huge affair crammed into her studio apartment to a holiday I associate with cooking in my mother’s kitchen, and for Passover the family’s now scattered to all corners of the Earth. But some things still always remind me of her. Namely, Scrabble and cabbage soup.

Grandma was a FIERCE Scrabble player. I never actually went up against the woman myself, but when I was twelve or so I played against my cousin, whom she’d taught, and damn. I consider my self a pretty word-smart person, but I got my rear kicked but good. It was only after Scrabulous took over Facebook that I got a hang of the strategies of the game. Every time I kick some rear myself now, I think of Grandma and how proud she’d probably be.

And then there’s cabbage soup. I don’t remember Grandma being a major cook, but this recipe, like her Scrabble prowess, is famous within our family. I remember my mom making this soup, having somehow gotten the recipe off her mother-in-law, and though it’s probably been fifteen years, I still remember how great it was – an old-world recipe full of beef bones and soup-plumped raisins, it was delicious, sweet and savory and an effective way to get a seven-year-old to eat – even love eating – cabbage.

And so just like when I’m clicking virtual Scrabble tiles around the internet, when I make my cabbage soup I think of my Grandma. Other than being a soup with cabbage in it, it’s nothing like her recipe – it’s vegan, for starters, and sour and spicy. There’s no delicious marrow to suck out of bones, just cubes of baked tofu soaking up the broth. But still, when I ladle the cabbagey broth into a bowl, I think of her. The thought actually forms as a silent “Hey Grandma.” Cause it’s always nice, once in a while, just to say hey.

I found this soup on the inimitable Vegan Yum Yum. I believe it was the soup that inaugurated last winter’s new (and my first) soup pot. I made several batches over the course of the cold months, to the point that I was only not-sick enough of it by last week to bring it back for this year. Lolo at Vegan Yum Yum claims to have just, like, thrown this soup together – “Today I found myself with a cute little organic cabbage in my refrigerator, but not much else. I also had some baked tofu and some carrots, and after looking in the fridge a million times, I had an idea for a soup.” Um, okay, genius girl. This thrown-together experiment turned out to be hella delicious – a little sweet, a little sour, a little spicy (or more, if you’re of a stronger constitution than I), it’s a veritable party in your mouth. Full of veggies, free of bad stuff, cheap, delicious, and easy.

I’ve made a couple of changes to Lolo’s recipe – She calls for carrots, but I don’t like cooked carrots, so I leave those out. I can’t bear to dirty my food processor pureeing a can of tomatoes, and couldn’t find cheap crushed tomatoes, so some tomato paste plus extra water does the trick. I’ve previously made this recipe with store-bought baked tofu, but this time I used TheKitchn’s guidelines to bake my own. Not as flavorful as store-bought, but much cheaper, and still better than plain.

Hot and Sour Cabbage Soup
Serves 6. 
Adapted from Vegan Yum Yum


1 tbs oil
1 small onion, minced
1 small cabbage, about the size of a grapefruit, cored and shredded
1 small can (about 6 tbs) tomato paste
7 1/4 cups water
1 package of tofu, baked w/ 1/4 c tamari
1/4 cup tamari, low sodium
1/4 cup rice vinegar
4 tsp sugar
(or replace rice vinegar and sugar with 1/3 cup seasoned rice vinegar)
1/2 - 1 tsp hot red chili flakes
1/2 tsp salt

1) In a large pot or Dutch oven, heat oil over medium heat. Add onion. Cook 6 to 10 minutes, until golden, stirring occasionally.

2) Add tomato paste to water, mixing well. (You can mix the paste into a smaller quantity of the water, say 1 cup, if that’s easier.)

3) Add tomato paste/water mix and cabbage to the pot and stir well.

4) Add tofu, tamari, vinegar, chili flakes and salt. Bring to a boil. Cover. Drop the heat to medium low. Simmer until cabbage is soft and ready to eat, about 20 minutes.

Approximate Calories, Fat, Fiber, and Price Per Serving
6 SERVINGS: 174 calories, 7 g fat, $0.89

Calculations
1 tbs oil: 120 calories, 13 g fat, $0.07
1 small onion, minced: 44 calories, 0 g fat, $0.30
1 small cabbage: 178 calories, 1 g fat, $1.20
1 small can (about 6 tbs) tomato paste: 81 calories, 0.5 g fat, $0.79
7 1/4 cups water: calorie- fat- and cost-free
1 package of tofu, pressed and baked: 513 calories, 28 g fat, $1.85
(1 package tofu, 1/4 c tamari)
1/4 cup tamari: 43 calories, 0 g fat, $0.36
1/4 cup rice vinegar: 0 calories, 0 g fat, $0.65
4 tsp sugar: 65 calories, 0 g fat, $0.05
1/2 - 1 tsp hot red chili flakes: 0 calories, 0 g fat, $0.02
1/2 tsp salt: 0 calories, 0 g fat, $0.02
TOTAL: 1044 calories, 42.5 g fat, $5.31
TOTAL/6: 174 calories, 7 g fat, $0.89

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Posted in: City Kitchen Chronicles,Soups and Stocks,Vegan,Vegetarian

City Kitchen Chronicles: Not-Quite Colcannon

City Kitchen Chronicles is a bi-weekly column about living frugally in Manhattan. It's penned by the lovely Jaime.

Every so often I look down at my items on the grocery store check-out conveyor belt, or unpacked onto my kitchen counter to be put away, and I think about starting a blog called Single Girl Grocery Shops. Most recently: one bag of green lentils, one sweet potato, a jar of Goya green olives, a can of vegetarian baked beans.

I’ll set your minds at ease right now by disclaiming that these were not fixins for a single meal. I’m not sure what exactly I went in for – I think to see if there were any good deals on vegetables – but apparently I’ve been in the mood for salt lately. (I also recently acquired a jar of Bac’n Bits. Yup, they’re vegetarian. And tasty.)

Although I was not making sweet potato/baked bean/green olive lentil stew (ew), the ingredients were bumping around in my head, and I got to thinking thinking of some marriage of the sweet tater and baked beans. I still had leftovers to get through, though (mostly some delicious but probably not-so-healthy, if I were to do the math, peanut butter sesame noodles), so I filed it away for later in the week.

In the meanwhile, I came across Mark Bittman’s recipe for Pan-Crisped Potatoes. This reminded me of my college roommate’s specialty, tiny cubes of sweet and white potatoes oven-roasted in tumeric and cumin. At some point, I brought home a surprisingly not-sad-looking bunch of kale from the supermarket, so there was that, too.

Sweet potatoes, kale, baked beans… how this got me thinking “colcannon” I can’t be quite sure. Colcannon is an Irish dish made of mashed potatoes, cabbage, butter, salt and pepper. (I thought bacon was a usual ingredient, but Wikipedia doesn’t mention it. Maybe it’s just an occasional bonus.)

I’ve seen colcannon recipes with kale in place of cabbage, and love combining sweet potatoes and kale, so I guess that’s how this idea got started. I’d steal Mark Bittman’s method, rather than mashing the sweet potatoes, and steal my old roommates propensity for tiny cubes of potato, roast the kale, and replace the bacony element with vegetarian baked beans. It’s miles from colcannon, bastardized and deconstructed, but dang is it good.

Although the tiny cubes of pan-crisped sweet potato are delicious, the roasted kale really stole the show. It’s sort of like kale chips, but miles less fussy. The chips require precision and care – can’t be too wet, can’t cook too long or too short or they’ll burn or be soggy – but when I roasted this kale I didn’t even have it evenly tossed in the olive oil, and it all came out heavenly. Some pieces crisp, some don’t lose all their moisture, but that’s okay! One of the easiest, most delicious things I’ve ever made.

I’m not including the baked beans in the recipe because it’s like: step 1, open beans; step 2, microwave. I do recommend doctoring the beans, though – I find them way too sweet on their own. Once they’re hot, I like to add a big spoonful of cottage cheese – it melts right in and you don’t taste it, just a little extra creaminess and a good added dose of protein. (This sounds like crazy food, but my friend J., who does not have total crazy lady tastes like I do, was a big fan.) A few shakes of chili powder in the beans are also a good idea. (Or, if you’re on a salt kick like a pregnant lady: Bac’n bits.)

From mashed potatoes with cabbage and bacon to tiny cubes of sweet potato over roasted kale with a side of baked beans and cottage cheese… I can’t quite call it colcannon. But “colcannon” is such a fun word to say.

Deconstructed Bastardized Colcannon
serves 2-3

1 bunch kale leaves, torn into pieces (about 5 cups torn)
1 large sweet potato, cut into ½” or so cubes
3 T olive oil (or a mix of olive and vegetable)
cooking spray
salt, to taste (sea salt or kosher, if you can – coarse is good)

[Note: I didn’t measure the olive oil in which I cooked the sweet potatoes. I poured enough to cover the bottom of a large skillet, but then I let the cooked taters drain on paper towel, and took off a good deal of oil that way. I’m going to guess at 3 tablespoons. I’m also of the school of thought (well backed-up by research, btw) that fat is not, in and of itself, bad for you, so don’t be alarmed by the high grammage of the recipe. You can reduce the oil, though, if you want. Your sweet potatoes may not be as browned or crispy, but they will still be quite good.]

1) Preheat oven to 375.

2) Heat oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add potatoes with a nice sprinkling of salt and cook, tossing and stirring from time to time, until they are nicely browned and cooked through. Depending on the size of your cubes, this will take 7-15 minutes.

3) Meanwhile, place kale on rimmed cooking sheet (it doesn’t need to be a single layer – a pile is fine) and spray with cooking oil, tossing for even coverage. (You can also use a drizzle of olive oil, and you don’t even have to worry about even coverage.) Sprinkle with salt.

4) Roast kale in the oven for 5 minutes. Stir/toss, roast another 5 minutes, or until it’s as done as you like it. (A little browning on the edges is not a bad thing.)

5) Drain sweet potatoes on paper towels, sprinkle over kale.

Approximate Calories, Fat, and Price per Serving
Two servings: 368.5 calories, 25g fat, $0.69
Three servings: 245.5 calories, 16.5 g fat, $0.46

Calculations
5 cups kale: 168 calories, 2 g fat, $0.40
1 large sweet potato: 212 calories, 6 g fat, $0.50
3 Tbs olive oil: 358 calories, 40.5 g fat, $0.44
Cooking spray: negligible calories and fat, $0.02
Salt: negligible calories and fat, $0.02
TOTAL: 737 calories, 50 g fat, $1.38
PER SERVING (TOTAL/2): 368.5 calories, 25g fat, $0.69
(TOTAL/3): 245.5 calories, 16.5 g fat, $0.46

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Posted in: City Kitchen Chronicles,Sides,Vegan,Vegetarian

City Kitchen Chronicles: Call the Waaaaahmbulance

City Kitchen Chronicles is a bi-weekly column about living frugally in Manhattan. It's penned by the lovely Jaime.

Waah, my urban greenmarket isn't in season. Waah.

On Sunday, the temperature in New York City hit 50 degrees. Bright sun, gentle breeze – it felt like spring. But – and maybe this is something I need to work on – no sooner was I unzipping my giant, knee-length, down-filled winter coat than I was angry. Angry that it’s not really spring. Frustrated that it’s barely February. This weekend I found a note written last year, on “the first warm day of the year.” It was dated April tenth. I am getting impatient.

Spring dresses are taunting me from my closet. I want to be able to go for a walk without freezing my toes (and tuchus) off. And boy, am I in a vegetable rut.

I’ve written before about my love of the farmers market. Aside from the fact that the awesome Union Square market is almost an hour of subwaying from my apartment, it’s wonderful – the produce is fresh and delicious, it’s reasonably-priced (sometimes cheaper than the supermarket, sometimes a little more), and it’s environmentally and socially responsible. And then there’s the actual shopping, my summertime Saturday morning routine. Even when it’s hot or rainy, or getting cold in the fall, I love the walk through the market, the piles of vegetables, the connection I feel to my food and where it came from and the city.

But although the market is year-round, the produce isn’t. If I were to head down there in January I’d find maple syrup and jam and meat and milk. It’s still a great thing – I swing by for eggs when I can – but I just don’t live in a climate with a year-round growing season. Waah.

This is only my second winter since falling in love with the farmers market, and I’m surely more entrenched in my habits and enamored of my little hobby than I was last year. So not only am I missing fresh, seasonal vegetables, but I’m missing lovely Saturday mornings in Union Square, a weekly few hours of healthy me time, communing with the city and some kale.

There’s also a part of me that just doesn’t know what to buy! In July I know I’m getting string beans and young greens; August is red peppers; October I buy Brussels sprouts and squash. Faced with the choices at the supermarket, it’s almost too much. And it just feels wrong to eat these veggies out of season – not morally wrong, but like writing with my left hand though I’m a righty.

Being out of my vegetable comfort zone, out of my vegetable habit, leaves me, well, lately eating not nearly as many veggies as I ought to. Building my meals around vegetables is an important step for me to eat well. Each week at the market yields slightly different veggies, and I get excited about my finds. Besides, if I’ve got a crisper full of kale, I’ll eat it, but if I don’t… well, things lately have maybe not been so great.

I realize that this is not an unsolvable problem. The answer is: go to the freaking supermarket, buy some freaking vegetables. Rather than what’s in season I can go by what’s cheap, or what looks good, or, gasp, I can actually shop for specific recipes! I wonder if next summer I’ll be able to overbuy produce to freeze and store for winter – an investment of money that won’t pay back for several months, but if I can scrounge the extra dough, maybe worth it.

But just like every time I hear on the radio, “Pitchers and catchers report to spring training in three weeks,” I’m at once excited for spring to come and lamenting how damn far away it is, every supermarket vegetable I buy reminds me that for all that I’m a snow-loving December baby, now that I’m a local veggie junkie, this isn’t my favorite time of year.

Does winter affect how you eat? Beyond soup and comfort foods, are you relying on frozen or stored food more? Do you live in southern California and laugh at this northern whining?

(Photos courtesy of WhatISee, Grist.org, and Good Housekeeping.)

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Posted in: City Kitchen Chronicles,Cooking,Frugality,Health

City Kitchen Chronicles: Lentil Soup and Righting Wrongs

City Kitchen Chronicles is a bi-weekly column about living frugally in Manhattan. It's penned by the lovely Jaime.

About nine-tenths of the way through making this recipe, I was despairing. Rather than the delicious soup that I nearly lived on last winter, I was stirring a pot of tomato paste-flavored lentils. It was pretty gross.

What had gone wrong? This was already a day of things-going-wrong, a general wrong-side-of-the-bedness, but I’d hoped that returning to a favorite, healthy recipe would pull me out of the funk, not sink me deeper. I wondered if the crushed tomatoes the recipe called for were too pasty, if I’d previously made it (incorrectly, but fortuitously) with diced. I’d followed the recipe to the letter, plus the secret ingredient I remembered stumbling upon last year. So what was wrong? What a waste of food! Waaah!

Then it popped into my head, the second secret ingredient I’d used before, and I added it, and holy moly, there we were.

Turns out I was despairing at the nine-tenths mark because I thought I was done, and I was wrong.

I don’t know how this recipe can be thought to work as written. It comes from the usually-genius 101 Cookbooks, but without these two additions, it tastes like tomato paste and lentils. That’s not a good combination. Using fire-roasted tomatoes helps, when you’ve got a few extra cents to spare, but even still. Without the additions I not pledge never to forget, I don’t get it.

I don’t mean to be ramping up some anticipation for my announcement of these amazing secret ingredients or anything, but:

Balsamic vinegar and cumin.

That’s what they are. They turn this soup into a sweet, savory, complex, earth-shakingly delicious bowl. And it’s already super-healthy, full of fiber and vegetables and good lentily protein.

And as long as you don’t get yourself down mid-recipe, this soup will turn your day around.

A couple of notes, other than DON’T FORGET THE CUMIN – I used chard, and rather than discarding the veins and stalks, chopped them up and added them to the soup. Why waste perfectly good veggie parts? Also, the recipe calls for 1 big can of crushed tomatoes, but I think it’d be good, maybe better, with 1 small can crushed and 1 small can diced – I miss tomato chunks. Fire-roasted if you’ve got ‘em. And my chard was hella expensive, so unless you decide to buy greens at Whole Foods, your cost will likely be less.

Make-Your-Day-Better Lentil Soup
Serves 6
Adapted from 101 Cookbooks.

2 cups black beluga lentils (or green French lentils), picked over and rinsed
1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil
1 large onion, chopped
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1 28-ounce can crushed tomatoes
2 cups water
3 cups of a big leafy green (chard, kale, etc), rinsed well, deveined, finely chopped (stalks, too)
3 T Balsamic vinegar (or to taste)
1 t cumin (or to taste)

1) To a medium pot or Dutch oven, add 6 cups water. Boil. Add lentils. Cook until tender, around 20 minutes or so. Drain and walk away.

2) While the lentils are boiling, get out a large pot or Dutch oven. Heat oil over medium heat. Add onion and salt. Cook 4 to 5 minutes, until onions are a little soft and translucent, stirring occasionally. 

3) If you’re using your greens’ stalks (and do, especially with chard!), add them and sauté a couple more minutes.

4) Add tomatoes, lentils, and 2 cups water. Cook until soup is simmering again.

5) Add vinegar and cumin. Stir.

6) Add chopped greens/chard. Stir. Cook 1 minute. Salt and pepper to taste. Serve.

Approximate Calories, Fat, and Price Per Serving
282.5 calories, 3.6 g fat, $1.18

Calculations
2 cups lentils: 1200 calories, 8 g fat, $1.50
1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil: 139 calories, 13 g fat, $0.12
1 large onion: 45 calories, 0 g fat, $0.25
1 teaspoon salt: 0 calories, 0 g fat, $0.01
1 28-ounce can crushed tomatoes: 151 calories, 0.8 g fat, $1.59
2 cups water: free!
3 cups chard: 130 calories, 0 g fat $2.99
3 T Balsamic vinegar: 30 calories, 0 g fat, $0.30
1 t cumin: 0 calories, 0 g fat, $0.30
TOTAL: 1695 calories, 21.8 g fat, $7.06
PER SERVING (TOTAL/6): 282.5 calories, 3.6 g fat, $1.18

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Posted in: City Kitchen Chronicles,Soups and Stocks,Vegan,Vegetarian

City Kitchen Chronicles: Potato Leek Soup with Kale

City Kitchen Chronicles is a bi-weekly column about living frugally in Manhattan. It's penned by the lovely Jaime.

Since cleaning up my apartment a few weeks ago for my birthdahousewarming party, I’ve been eager to get people in here. My dad’s actually never seen my apartment, and that’s in the works, but this past weekend I had the pleasure of a sleepover with my on-break-from-college sister, M.

I had a pair of tickets to a play Sunday night, so when I was home for Chinese food and a movie over Christmas (I’m not kidding – we actually do this, and we’re not the only ones – it’s a fun cliché!), I offered my spare ticket to M, and invited her to stay over. (Maybe the best perk about working in theatre is that most offices, including mine, close down between Christmas and New Year’s.) “Is there anything else you want to do in the city?” We grew up, and my mom still lives, just a short drive into the suburbs, but I could still pretend to be tour guide to my bumpkin sister. She said, “I’ve never been to MoMA.” And thus the plan was set.

Tickets to the lovely Museum of Modern Art run a cool $20, and not as a suggested donation like at the Met or the Museum of Natural History, but a for-real twenty bucks, but here’s where luck keeps this expedition frugal – I have two friends who work at the museum, and MoMA staff can add anyone they like to a guest list for free admission.

Whew.

But to backtrack, before M and I, and every tourist in the city (including half the population of France) made our way through the art, there was Sunday night. In our back-and-forth phone calls of prep (“Do you have a blanket?” “Yes.” “Do you need allergy pills for the cats?” “Yes.”) I asked M what she wanted to do for dinner. We could eat down by the theatre, or she could eat before driving to me, and then we could just head down for the play…

“I want you to cook something.”

You cook one Thanksgiving from some simple-but-family-impressing recipes, and suddenly you have a reputation.

Unfortunately, the thing M didn’t realize is that when I’m not cooking from mom-shopped recipes, with their vanilla beans and such, I cook food that *I* find tasty, but that is rarely pretty and certainly unimpressive. I couldn’t afford anything fancy, and I couldn’t really bear to serve rice and beans, no matter how delicious and veggie-laden, to a guest.

Luckily I had a new-to-me, super-tasty, and dirt-cheap recipe up my sleeve. I hit the farmers market for $3 of ingredients, borrowed my friend K’s immersion blender (having suffered half a blender’s worth of soup all over my kitchen and clothing on my first attempt), and set to work.

Although this soup is simple, it’s delicious. It tastes to me like mashed potato soup, the best, smoothest mashed potatoes ever. M was a big fan of the accidental potato chunks left after the blending, and I was, too. I added kale for some extra nutritional oomph, and, just like it works in mashed potatoes, it was delicious here. M thought the kale would work better in smaller pieces, and I agreed.

After M. left, I talked to my mom. I told her that I’d cooked potato leek soup with kale for our dinner, and she was surprised. “That sounds very adventurous for M!” I don’t actually think it was – I’d run the kale idea by M and she’d been very enthusiastic – but either way, I cooked for my sister, she thought it was delicious, and my heart felt a little bit more full.

Potato Leek Soup with Kale
serves 4-6

2 T olive oil
1 bunch leeks, white and light green parts only, cut lengthwise and then into ¼” slices
pinch salt
1-2 cloves garlic (optional)
2 c yellow potatoes, cubed
4 c vegetable broth (I use water and Better than Bouillon
1 c water (or to taste)
pepper, to taste
6 c kale, torn into small pieces
1 T olive oil
salt

1) Heat the olive oil in a big soup pan over medium heat. Add leeks, salt, and garlic. Sautee until leeks are tender, about ten minutes.

2) Add potatoes and broth, plus some water if your broth is very salty or strong. Simmer for 20 minutes.

3) While soup is cooking, saute kale in olive oil in another pan, over medium heat, with salt to taste, until it’s your preferred doneness. More salt with help with bitterness, as will more cooking. Fresh kale can be tastier with less cooking than supermarket kale (as I was sad to learn).

4) (optional) Puree all or some of the soup with an immersion blender. Or, very carefully, puree cooled soup, in batches, in a regular blender. MAKE SURE THE BASE IS SECURELY ATTACHED. Trust me.

5) Mix kale into soup, or serve in a separate bowl, allowing guests or potentially picky sisters to add as much or as little as they like. Add salt and pepper to taste. (This soup does well with a lot of pepper.)

Approximate Calories, Fat, and Price Per Serving
Serving four: 246.5 calories, 11 g fat, $1.20
Serving six: 164 calories, 7.5 g fat, $0.80

Calculations
3 T olive oil: 417 calories, 40.5 g fat, $0.36
1 bunch leeks: 109 calories, 0.5 g fat, $2.50
2 cloves garlic: 8 calories, 0 g fat, $0.08
2 c yellow potatoes: 231 calories, 0.5 g fat, $0.60
4 t Better than Bouillon: 20 calories, 0 g fat, $0.74
5 c water: 0 calories, 0 fat, free!
salt and pepper: negligible calories and fat, $0.04
6 c kale: 201 calories, 3 g fat, $0.50
TOTAL: 986 calories, 44.5 g fat, $4.82
PER SERVING (TOTAL/4): 246.5 calories, 11 g fat, $1.20
PER SERVING (TOTAL/6): 164 calories, 7.5 g fat, $0.80

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Posted in: City Kitchen Chronicles,Soups and Stocks,Vegan,Vegetarian

City Kitchen Chronicles: Cranberry and Blackberry Champagne Punch

City Kitchen Chronicles is a bi-weekly column about living frugally in Manhattan. It's penned by the lovely Jaime, and is a little late this week due to Kris' absence. Still, it's neato.

In my last column, on the misguided “cheap parties for rich people” meme currently taking over our newspapers, I mentioned my own upcoming soiree. And indeed, this past weekend, I invited a bunch of friends and a few strangers (read: cute boys I vaguely know) to what I called “birthdahousewarming.”

Yes, I moved into this apartment, oh, fifteen months ago, but as a procrastinator and generally not-too-neat person, I didn’t quickly have my place either fully furnished and decorated, nor ever really tidy. (Necessary disclaimer: I am messy, but not dirty. There are clothes on my bedroom floor, but not moldy food on my kitchen counters.)

As this birthday approached, I was debating between having people over and gathering folks at a bar. Each had its appeal – at a bar I would likely have all my drinks bought for me, but the atmosphere is beyond my control and I have to take the subway home at the end of the night; at home I have to buy booze and snacky foods, and clean, but I get to show off my (when it’s clean) quite lovely and spacious abode. But to be honest with myself, something that would force me to clean was probably a good thing, and I have put more than a year’s work into making my home a place I love. It was time to (almost literally) warm it with the people I loved.

That just left the hurdle of feeding and watering a group of friends. My mother instilled in me a strong hostessing instinct – I couldn’t bear to just provide a jug of cheap vodka and some HFCS cranberry juice and call it a day. Visions of crudités and homemade hummus danced through my head, but so did fears of overdrawn checking accounts and subsequent months of living on toast.

Thankfully, in a bit of birthday deus ex machina, I realized that, hey, it’s my birthday, and I’m young enough that my grandparents still send some cash my way come December. So that took me from zero budget to low budget. My anxiety was eased, but I still needed to do this cheap.

For food I went to the super-cheap grocery behind Port Authority for veggies to go with my homemade hummus. Target provided very cheap and very delicious restaurant-style tortilla chips and a splurge of dark M&M’s. My supermarket had organic apple chipotle salsa for just a dollar more than the regular stuff; that extra dollar was mightily worth the oohs and ahs and enjoyment of my friends. It made everything feel a little fancier.

But drinks confounded me. Alcohol is not cheap. (Or, cheap alcohol is usually not good.)

I figured people would bring beer and wine (and I knew I could count on one dear friend for whiskey), so I wanted to lay the foundation with something festive and interesting.

Punch.

I scoured the internet, got somehow set on the idea of cranberry champagne punch, found basically no internet recipes for that, and so made it up myself (with the help of many silly and frantic emails to wise friends).

Most punch recipes call for several kinds of alcohol. I’d be starting from scratch, without a bar to draw from, so that put just about everything out of my budget. A friend assured me that champagne + fruit juice would be tasty, and I picked up a few fancifying touches from the internet.

I made this entirely without recipes (and without a punch bowl – my big soup pot had to suffice), but in preparation I bought:

3 bottles of the next-to-cheapest champagne I could find: $21
2 8 oz. boxes of blackberries: $2
1 64 oz. bottle of cranberry juice cocktail: $2.39
1 32 oz. bottle of black cherry juice: $3.50

I didn’t use all of either juice – those leftovers went to a vitamin C binge to ward off a cold that was tickling the back of my throat. (Totally worked.) I’d say I spent $27 on the punch. I wasn’t exactly tracking how many servings, but let’s say 20? That’s $1.35 each, a fair competition for even the cheapest bottle of beer, and immensely better than a champagne cocktail at a bar.

This is a party, after all, and a go-with-the-flow improvised recipe, so it’s not the time to intensely nitpick calories. Serving sizes vary, too, but I can estimate that a small glass of this has fewer than 150 calories (probably more like 120) and the juice and berries are surely healthier mixers than a lot of other options. Cranberry juice has vitamin C! Have your fruit and drink it, too.

Cranberry & Black Cherry Champagne Punch
(makes about 1 ½ soup pots worth)

(Picture from Torani, but it's fairly/kind of close to what it actually looked like.)

1) Freeze an ice cube tray full of cranberry juice, and one full of black cherry juice. Leave juices and champagne in the fridge for several hours to chill.

2) Pour a champagne into punch bowl or large soup pot. (I only used two bottles at first, because my soup pot isn’t huge and also the third bottle’s cork was stuck, so I had to wait for a strong friend to arrive. This helps keep things fizzy, too.)

3) Add juice, to taste.

4) Add blackberries. (If you want to be a total rockstar, you can soak the berries in a little champagne or vodka ahead of time to booze them up.) Add juice ice cubes.

5) Stick a ladle in your soup pot and explain to guests that it’s not mulled wine.

Totally guestimated calories and cost per serving: 120 calories, $1.35

(Photos courtesy of Flickr member Wardomatic and Torani.)

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Posted in: City Kitchen Chronicles,Drinks,Vegan,Vegetarian

City Kitchen Chronicles: Recession Chic, Party Planning, and Me

City Kitchen Chronicles is a bi-weekly column about living frugally in Manhattan. It's penned by the lovely Jaime.

A few days ago, Gawker posted on how the headline “Party Like It’s 1929” needs to be retired. They easily found six examples from recent months, arguing – convincingly! – that the phrase has gone from clever to entirely overdone.

But maybe worse than that played-out headline is the played-out and downright troubling trend of “recession chic," a.k.a. richer folks playing poor, seemingly getting a kick out of making fiscal sacrifices. Because to the seriously cash-strapped, this can sometimes feel like a slap in the face .

In yesterday’s megalinks, Kris pointed out the latest offender, a New York Times Style Section piece chronicling a chi chi party planner’s quest to throw a shindig on a shoestring, for a mere $30 a head (which, naturally, was titled, “We’re Going to Party Like It’s 1929”).

$30 being my shoestring weekly budget, but I digress.

The problem is the idea that a $240 dinner party is a way of coping with the recession, as opposed to a luxury. And when you look at the writing of the piece, there’s some serious exotification going on. We see the chic party planner slumming it at K-Mart, or mingling with the unwashed hordes at a 99-cent store: “Politely nudging through the clogged aisles of the deep-discount emporium, the dapper Mr. Monn reminded me of a late-model Bentley stuck in rush hour on the B.Q.E.” Meaning that the other discount shoppers are what, exhaust-belching trucks and used cars?

There’s this novelty to “playing recession,” the Ooh, look how austere I’m being, but that wears off. Yes, the economic troubles are affecting everyone, and lifestyle change hurts no matter how it hits, but aside from ending up with an awfully condescending approach to cheap living, this article highlights a really trivial way to cut corners. And there are lots of people cutting a lot more deeply, way past 99-cent store Christmas ornaments and office paper snowflakes.

At Jezebel, they get things right:

I'm sure that Williams meant well, but the point is this: for many people across the country, a trip to the dollar store or Kmart isn't some amazing sociological experiment: it's everyday life. And to continue to publish crap like this shows, once again, that the Times, while reporting unemployment rates and layoffs on the front page, still doesn't quite get the plight of the average American when it comes to trends and styles. I suppose this simply speaks to a target demographic, which is understandable, but every "recession chic" article that goes up just reinforces the divide between those who feel that a $238.40 party is a steal and those who have to live on $238.40 on a weekly basis.

On a related note: this December, almost a year and a half at a new apartment, I’m getting my place in shape and inviting folks to my apartment. It’s not a dinner party, as chronicled in The Times, but aside from inviting guests to bring a bottle of booze, I’m on the look-out for ways to make a home inviting and a party fun, without going (even farther) into debt in the process.

Way #1 I’d diverge from the Times plan is not spending $80 on decorations. Way #2 might be shopping somewhere a little cheaper than grocery-delivery service Fresh Direct. Way #3 might be saving money (and my guests’ health) by baking my own cake, so that my main course wouldn’t have to be baked potatoes. The Prime Directive of frugal eating is, I believe, MAKE IT FROM SCRATCH, and yet, as an alternative to the hip, pricey, and honestly not-too-delish Magnolia Bakery cupcakes, the party guru... buys an angel food cake at Food Emporium? For $5? And that’s before the store-bought icing and coconut flakes...

Okay, I’d do just about everything differently, except for the dim lighting. (The brilliant folks at The Kitchn have come up with an alternative plan that stays super-cheap but drastically ratchets up the food.) But, maybe my priorities are in a different place. Maybe I would rather decorate with a string of Christmas lights and spend effort rather than cash to make good food. My disagreements with how the budget was allocated are not the heart of the problem.

But The New York Times is a newspaper, and it’s telling us that this is the way people are dealing with the recession... what do you think?

(Photo courtesy of A Different Voice.)

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Posted in: City Kitchen Chronicles,Cooking,Frugality,Organization

City Kitchen Chronicles: Of Risk and Celebration

City Kitchen Chronicles is a bi-weekly column about living frugally in Manhattan. It's penned by the lovely Jaime.

Last winter I was at the very beginning of my quest to get my finances seriously under control. This mostly manifested as me constantly feeling broke.

One of the worst ways that constant sense of brokenness (different from actual plain cash-strappedness in that it’s all you can think about) infected my life and psyche was in spending time with friends. It was around this time that I started turning down invitations to restaurants, hanging out at bars with a water in my hand, meeting my friends at the theatre before a play rather than for dinner beforehand. Sure, I was saving money, but I was also miserable.

It was my first year living on my own – before, with roommates, I had a built-in social life, even if it was just watching the 1am reruns of “Will & Grace.” But now, unless I made plans, it was just me and my cats. And plans cost money.

No movies. No restaurants. No bars. No ice skating.

And miserable Jaime.

I made it through the winter, and once the weather warmed up it was much easier. A stroll around the farmers market or an afternoon reading in the park was a perfect way to catch up with a friend and enjoy the city, without spending a dime. It also helped, hugely, that, even though I didn’t really have more money, I got in control of it, on a dept-demolishing plan, with some semblance of a budget. If every day wasn’t an epic struggle to not spend, but rather just another day on my long-term plan, life just felt less awful.

(And with that organization, I was able to scrape together pennies for, say, fireworks night at the Coney Island Cyclones, one of the city’s minor league baseball games. And if I really had my stuff together, I could afford a cup of Dippin’ Dots. The ice cream of the future!)

I got to thinking about last winters antisocial miseryfest this weekend when my friend J. and I braved a totally whacked-out subway system to visit our friends A. and B. in Queens. A. and B. recently got engaged, and J’s idea was to celebrate with an epic game of Risk.

(The backstory, aside from us being total nerds, is that J., A. and I have been friends since college. J. and I love B., but it’s hard to get him to go out and socialize. This summer we went to their apartment for Risk, and it was a great way to get to see him. This is also where the one-letter pseudonyms get confusing, huh.)

Anyway, J’s brilliant idea: Risk and celebration.

So A. cooked a winter vegetable stew in her slow cooker, and I brought some nice chocolate bars for dessert. We played Risk, and ate, and played some more, and after I lost I played Risk on J’s iPhone while the world domination finished up. (iPhone Risk is not so great, in case you were wondering.)

And there it was, a fantastic day with friends and a delicious meal, all for the cost of a few chocolate bars and some patience with the subway. Last time we got together for Risk, A. made chili and I brought a version of this. A fantastic deal.

It got me thinking about this winter, and my still-stringent finances. I’ve got to have a plan in place, whether it’s budgeting for social spending, or making sure I can see my friends and have fun without going broke. Or broker.

There’s hanging out at friends’ apartments, cooking dinner and playing Mario Kart. There are museums that have suggested donations, which, as a former employee of one such institution, I happily take advantage of. There are discount-ticket services like Goldstar, that can turn up a $7 ticket to a $25 event, but that’s still money, and sometimes money I just don’t have.

So what else is there to do that’s free and fun?

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Posted in: City Kitchen Chronicles,Frugality

City Kitchen Chronicles: Garlicky Long Beans and Farmers Markets

City Kitchen Chronicles is a bi-weekly column about living frugally in Manhattan. It's penned by the lovely Jaime.

This past Saturday my mom came into the city for some quality time. We went out for lunch, but before that I took her along on my favorite Saturday morning fixture: shopping for vegetables.

I am a wholehearted devotee of farmers markets. Even before Michael Pollan and his amazing book, The Omnivore’s Dilemma, laid out for me the brutal and beautiful repercussions of how we get our food (and subsequent case for local eating), I’d gotten in the habit of buying my veggies from the weekend farmers market that’s just a few blocks from my apartment.

When I moved to this neighborhood a year ago last summer, my eating and cooking habits changed, largely by virtue of now living alone. I started cooking more, and I was suddenly a short, lovely walk away from fresh, local veggies every Saturday morning. I’ve since traded most of those quick jaunts for a more time-intensive but even more rewarding trip to the mother of all NYC farmers markets, at Union Square.

Every week I savor the hour I give myself to stroll back and forth through the stalls (once through to see what’s good and what’s cheap, and then buying on a second pass), but my mom’s reactions reminded me how special these mornings are. “Oh, look at that broccoli! It’s gorgeous!” “Ohh, those Macouns look amazing!” “They look so fresh!” That last one was for Brussels sprouts still on the stalk, a treat you never see at the supermarket.

In the end, for all its fresh and delicious bounty, the greenmarket wasn’t exactly my suburban mom’s speed. She found herself fumbling with cash and her bags whenever she went to buy something, and the jostling crowds can be a lot. “I need a shopping cart,” she said more than once. New York City doesn’t scare her – she lived here when she was my age – but there’s a way to get zen with the slow-walking busyness of the farmers market that I realized I’ve acquired over the last year.

Then, that evening, after my mom had left, I went to Target to buy socks and conditioner and got my own taste of overstimulation anxiety. To each her own.

One of the best things about the farmers market – beyond fresh produce, environmentally-friendly eating, supporting local businesses, and damn tasty food – and especially of big markets like the one at Union Square, is that it gets me to try new veggies. When collards were cheap, I started buying collards. When zucchini went out of season, I tried – and discovered I love – cauliflower and Brussels sprouts. And every so often I’ll spot a strange and intriguing vegetable that’s cheap and looks promising.

Over the summer I tried all sorts of weird wild greens like lambsquarter and purslane, loving both. More recently I took a chance on long beans.

See, they’re like darker, tougher string beans, but loooooong.

A sign at the stall said they have a stronger, meatier texture, and suggested braising the beans. I tend to sauté everything, and had a feeling these beans would stand up to that pretty well.

And damn was I right! I went with olive oil and a metric ton of garlic, and was not disappointed. Cannellini beans add protein and creaminess, almost dissolving into a sauce over some hearty whole wheat pasta. The lemon juice cuts the salt and oil without tasting lemony. The long beans’ flavor isn’t super strong, but they hold up well and have a really interesting texture. Keeping the garlic pieces big and cooking it slow makes this more tasty and less breath-killing.

Garlicky long beans and beans
makes 4 servings (or so)

1/2 lb long beans, cut into three-inch (or so) pieces.
4 cloves garlic
1 can Cannelinni beans, drained and rinsed
juice of 1 lemon
1 1/2 cups (dry) whole wheat pasta (rotini or penne will work well)
salt and pepper

1) Cut up 4 cloves of garlic in various ways – the smaller the pieces, the garlickier the food. One or two minced, two sliced very thin, and one however you like will yield a good mix of sizes and heat.

2) Get your pasta cooking. (I hope it’s okay if I don’t tell you how to cook pasta. Err on the al dente side for this, though, cause the beans will add a lot of mush.)

3) Heat 1 T olive oil over medium-low heat. Saute garlic until starting to get color.

4) Add long beans, and toss. Saute over medium heat until they’re tasty and just about done. (10 min or so, but taste as you go.)

5) Toss in Cannellini beans, salting and peppering to taste. (The beans will take a lot of salt.)

6) Toss cooked pasta with 1 T olive oil, then mix in the bean & bean mixture and lemon juice, or serve the beans over the pasta. However you like.

Approximate Calories, Fat, and Price Per Serving
4 servings: 431 calories, 8 g fat, $0.88

Calculations
1/2 lb long beans: 96 calories, 0 g fat, $2.00
4 cloves garlic: 18 calories, 0 g fat, $0.10
1 can Cannellini beans: 1,045 calories, 3 g fat, $0.70
2 T olive oil: 239 calories, 27 g fat, $0.20
juice of 1 lemon: 12 calories, 0 g fat, $0.20
1 1/2 cups (dry) whole wheat pasta: 315 calories, 2 g fat, $0.30
salt and pepper: negligible calories and fat, $0.02
TOTAL: 1,723 calories, 32 g fat, $3.52
PER SERVING (TOTAL/4): 431 calories, 8 g fat, $0.88

(Union Square photo provided by Flickr member wallyg.)

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Posted in: City Kitchen Chronicles,Mains,Pasta,Vegan,Vegetarian

City Kitchen Chronicles: Curried Apple & Lentil Dal

City Kitchen Chronicles is a bi-weekly column about living frugally in Manhattan. It's penned by the lovely Jaime.

Two of my best friends are brother and sister. Is that weird? That I’m part of a trio that’s two-thirds siblings? J and I became friends freshman year of college, and two years later his little sister, K, joined us at school. She spent lots of time at our apartment senior year, and the three of us were even roommates for a year after K graduated and joined us in the city. J and I lived together, plus a revolving door of third roommates of which K was the last, for four years starting senior year of college, until we each moved into our own NYC apartments.

These days, K and J live five blocks apart in Harlem, and I’m just a few subway stops farther up the island. We spend a lot of time together, the comfortable time of roommates and, I guess, siblings, too, cooking dinner and watching TV at J’s apartment or going to the farmers market together on Saturdays.

Oh, also, their parents have a house in western Mass, with a gorgeous view and the most comfortable couch you ever parked your rear on for a long weekend. In the summer the house gets overtaken by relatives and their parents’ friends, but a weekend or two during the off-season every year, the three of us head north for some restorative lazing.

This weekend (yes, I just got back, and yes, I wish I were still there) K prodded us into some inspired activity – a hike (we hiked a mountain!) and apple-picking. Very autumnal, and very wonderful. K had been talking for months about making apple sauce, something I’d never done at home. Sure, I buy my sauce unsweetened and chemical-free, but I had no idea how substantial and delicious the simple homemade stuff is. Most of our half-bushel of apples went in there, and several went into a mountainous and serviceable-but-unexceptional pie, but I snagged two Macouns for a recipe I’ve been looking to try for a while.

Not that lack of apples had been stopping me, but this weekend seemed a good chance to cook dinner for my two friends. K often cooks these long weekends, but she was already heading up the apple sauce and pie. (And making a crust from scratch since all the supermarket crusts had non-veggie-Jaime-friendly lard.)

This recipe comes from a wonderful vegan blog that’s new to me and is quickly becoming a favorite. Its title isn’t, um, family friendly, and the language skews that way, too, but author lindyloo is smart, funny, and brings some great recipes. She’s the kind of writer that if she didn’t live half-way across the country, I’d want to hunt her down and make her my friend. So I’ll just resign myself to enjoying her writing and her recipes.

This lentil curry, or dal, sparked my interest not for its glamour shot, as lentils are maybe the least photogenic food in the world. No, it was nothing so shallow as that. These lentils called to me with their simple recipe, the combination of familiar ingredients and new flavors (I’ve never actually cooked a curry dish before), the health and cheapness, and, oh, right, the apples. Apple curry! I’m a big fan of fruit in savory dishes – I will put pineapple in anything – but this combination was new. I had no idea what to expect, but it sounded awesome, and then – score! – it was.

I cooked these up with a side of garlicky swiss chard, and it made for a delicious meal for three happily tired friends. The apples add a sweetness that blends brilliantly with the cardamom and cinnamon in the garam masala, and the lentils are rich and filling with very little fat. You can serve this over brown rice or top with a blob (sorry, a dollop) of plain yogurt. Note that it takes the lentils a long time to cool to non-mouth-burning after being cooked. (I outdorked even myself when I said at dinner, “Wow, these lentils have a high specific heat!”) So let them cool down a bit before you start trying to eat, but otherwise, enjoy!

Curried Apple & Lentil Dal
Adapted from Yeah, That Vegan S***

1 T olive oil
1 small onion, diced fine
4 cloves garlic, diced
1 T fresh ginger, minced
2 small apples (Mac-ish), diced
2 ½ t garam masala
a few good shakes curry powder (or replace the garam masala and curry powder with 2 T garam masala curry paste)
1 ½ c red lentils
2 c vegetable broth (or 2 c water with 2 t Better than Bouillon, which could be renamed “Cheaper than Broth”)
salt to taste (if your broth isn’t very salty, you’ll need this)

1) In a large pot, heat oil over medium-high heat. Add onion, garlic, and ginger. Cook until fragrant, stirring occasionally.

2) Add apples, garam masala, and curry powder (or paste). Stir.

3) Add lentils and broth and stir. Drop heat to low or medium-low and simmer uncovered "until lentils and apples are tender," around 25 minutes. If need be, add water so mixture won't dry out.

4) That's it. You're done.

Approximate Calories, Fat, and Price Per Serving
340 calories, 5 g fat, $.61

Calculations
1 T olive oil: 120 calories, 14 g fat, $.08
1 small onion: 45 calories, 0 g fat, $.40
4 cloves garlic: 18 calories, 0 g fat, $.08
1 T fresh ginger: 5 calories, 0 g fat, $.05
2 small apples: 144 calories, 0 g fat, $.40
2 ½ t garam masala: negligible calories and fat, $.25
a few good shakes curry powder: negligible calories and fat, $.05
1 ½ c red lentils: 1020 calories, 6 g fat, $.75
2 t Better than Bouillon: 10 calories, 0 g fat, $.37
salt to taste: negligible calories and fat, $.02
TOTAL: 1362 calories, 20 g fat, $2.45
PER SERVING (Total/4): 340 calories, 5 g fat, $.61

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Posted in: City Kitchen Chronicles,Mains,Vegan,Vegetarian

City Kitchen Chronicles: An Omelette

City Kitchen Chronicles is a bi-weekly column about living frugally in Manhattan. It's penned by the lovely Jaime.

Today I bring you a recipe – which didn’t start out as a recipe or an attempt at anything other than a quick, healthy breakfast – that was so good that when I got up to take my plate to the sink I said, out loud, in my empty apartment, “Holy crap that was good!”

But to backtrack a bit... I think I’ve written before of my love and appreciation for beet greens. Love because they’re tasty. Appreciation because they’re healthy and, if you’re lucky, free.

Beet greens are my very own urban foraging. No, I’m not picking them wild in the park and growing from cracks in the sidewalk. I’m foraging them, discarded, from the refuse crates under the tables at the farmers market. When people buy beets at the market, nine times out of ten they take them without the tops, which are chucked along with radish and carrot greens into crates that eventually go to be composted. If you ask nicely (I mean, if you ask at all, but why not ask nicely), the folks working at the farm stand will happily give you a bagful of the discarded greens, or let you take your own.

It’s like freegan-lite – it’s not a garbage pile, only freshly cut off plant tops. But it’s still excitingly free.

You can cook beet greens like spinach or any similar green. Because beets aren’t cultivated for their tops, the leaves are sometimes spotty or a bit bug-bitten, but as long as they’re not wilted or slimy, they’re still totally good, and they can keep in the fridge for almost a week.

I usually sautee them with garlic and oil, to be added to other veggies and protein. But getting a little bored with that, I started thinking of other ways I use spinach that would work for these greens. They’re a little more bitter than spinach, and I don’t love them raw, but this morning I stumbled into this “Holy crap that was good” preparation that takes advantage of the extra punch they pack, and is super healthy and, yay! – dirt cheap.

It was, after all, breakfast time, so I chopped up some already-sauteed greens to use as omelette filling. The accidental magic, though, was in the spices I added to the greens. I was reheating them with some nutritional yeast, and started reaching for spices. There's something about the combination I ended up with (cinnamon??) that feels Moroccan to me. I'm not sure why. It’s a flavor combination I don’t usually end up with, but daaaaaaaamn. Enjoy.

(A note on the price of this recipe: I buy local, free-range, happy-chicken eggs from the farmers market. Local, free-range, happy-chicken eggs are also expensive eggs. Supermarket eggs, obviously, will make this a much cheaper recipe.)

Vaguely Moroccan (or something) Beet Green Omelette
(serves 1)

2 eggs
½ cup cooked beet greens (about 3 cups raw)
½ t oil
2 T nutritional yeast (nooch)
½ t cumin
1/4 t cinnamon
½ t dried minced garlic (or fresh)
¼ t dried minced onion (or fresh)
generous pinch salt & pepper

(A note on spice quantities - I didn't measure anything when I made this... unless you count the eggs. The nooch was a few generous shakes, the cumin was a generous dash, the cinnamon was a small dash. Do what feels right, taste, change as needed.)

1) Chop the cooked (cooled) beet greens. Sautee with a smidge of oil. Add nooch, cumin, cinnamon, garlic, onion, salt, and pepper. Sautee until hot, set aside.

2) Separate eggs.

3) Beat egg whites until bubbly. Reincorporate yolks. (An extra bit of time to spend on weekend mornings for an extra fluffy omelette. Regular unseparated egg-beating also works fine.)

4) Make an omelette,* with the beet green mixture as filling.

*Omelette technique is really a trial-by-error sort of thing, and lots of people have different methods. Mine is pretty hands off: Pour the beaten eggs into a medium-hot pan; when the edges are set-ish, pour the filling into the middle; when the whole thing is close to set but not dry, fold the omelette into thirds over the filling; cover, and keep cooking until you think it's done; learn over time how long it takes; enjoy.

Approximate Calories, Fat, and Price Per Serving
168 calories, 11 g fat, $1.03

Calculations
2 eggs - 125 calories, 8g fat, $.58
½ cup cooked beet greens (about 3 cups raw) - 35 calories, 2g fat, free!
1/2 t oil - 20 calories, 2g fat, $.05
2 T (nooch) - 31 calories, 0 fat, $.70
½ t cumin - negligible calories and fat, $.02
1/4 t cinnamon - negligible calories and fat, $.02
½ t dried minced garlic (or fresh) - negligible calories and fat, $.01
¼ t dried minced onion (or fresh) - negligible calories and fat, $.01
generous pinch salt & pepper - negligible calories and fat, $.02
TOTAL PER SERVING: 211 calories, 12 g fat, $1.41

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Posted in: Breakfast,City Kitchen Chronicles,Eggs,Vegetarian