Cheese On Toast or Grilled Cheese? Birthday Parties Mean No Sunday Supper

Whatever you call it, Izzy only ate two bites, along with a few pickled green beans and some apple slices, before proclaiming he was full. Why was he full at dinnertime? Because we had just returned from a classmate's birthday party, full of romping and cats as evidenced above. Izzy was truly "weared" out.

I have noticed a pattern with the Sunday late afternoon birthday party. During these parties, the children are fed a variety of foods, which usually include pizza, juice boxes and cake. These items are served between 4-6 p.m. which is more like snack time than dinnertime. Izzy becomes completely riled up and exhausted from the affairs and then I think he will just go home and go to sleep. But no, he always asks for some dinner. I knew tonight that I wouldn't have much to offer.

In the car on the way back, I asked if he would eat some grilled cheese for dinner and he said no. But H., who was driving us said something like, "I am sure cheese and toast will do." Cheese and toast would never do, or so I thought until H. explained that that is what the British call grilled cheese. I didn't think Izzy would want that either but once home he agreed to it, perhaps because he knew he wouldn't actually eat it.

Meat Doesn't Get More Local or Organic

Unless I kill it myself. Since the likelihood of that is virtually non-existent I have decided to accept the next best thing.

You see, there are advantages to having a "country" brother who lives in rural New Jersey. He has many acres of land upon which graze numerous deer. Although he himself is a vegetarian, he allows hunters on his property. They often offer him part of their bounty which, in the past, he declined. This year, he offered it to me..

At first I felt rather ambivalent about taking the meat. The idea of hunting bothers me. Even though I feel no qualms about eating farm-raised meats, the hunted variety provoked ugly imagery. I have an unfortunate picture of hunters as blood-thirsty, gun-toting rednecks and wasn't sure I could support that. On the other hand, the idea of adding part of a deer to my freezer full of lamb, was infinitely appealing. My brother helped me decide. Turns out that this recently published article, Locavore Get Your Gun, would have been even more persuasive.

My brother G. explained that the hunters on his property use bows and arrows and that hunting deer is a reasonable way to control the ever-burgeoning deer population. His argument, along with memories of venison meals eaten in Paris, convinced me to accept the offer.

So the day came a few weeks ago when my brother called to say that he would be delivering the goods to my door step. I had no idea what to expect. What I got was several packages wrapped in plain white paper and labeled in black like this one...
I put the packages in the freezer and haven't gone near them until yesterday. I decided it was time to experiment so I defrosted the stew meat. When I explored potential recipes, I discovered that I was lacking many of the recommended ingredients but figured I could whip up something reasonably simple.

I marinated the chunks of meat in red wine with shallots, thyme, and bay leaf, hoping for the best. After eight hours in the marinade, I seared the chunks of venison in olive oil and set aside. Then I sauteed onions, carrots, and shallots, seasoned with thyme, salt and pepper. I added 1/2 lb. of shiitake mushrooms, sauteed 5 minutes more and then returned meat to the pot and added a cup or so of red wine and a cup of water. I brought this to a boil and allowed to simmer for 1 1/2 hours. I served this on a bed of bowtie pasta ( for lack of a better noodle around the house) and sprinkled with coarse salt. It was a warm, comforting meal on a cold night.

Izzy was a most accommodating assistant, and for the first time, wielded the tongs to remove the meat from the pot. He also sauteed the vegetables, stirring them so that they wouldn't stick. He was intent upon inspecting the raw meat, asking questions about the blood, though that is another story.

I was quite pleased with my first foray into the world of venison (as was Izzy who had three helpings, not to mention his papa who ate the rest of the pot) but next time hope to add a greater complexity of flavors to the dish.
There is much more to be said about venison which is so different in flavor and texture from other meats. I will regale you with tales from cookbooks and the like soon or during my next venison experiment.

Sour Cream Scene: Tears and Sulking Included

Izzy: I want bananas and sour cream for snack.

Me: Okay. Go get the sour cream from the fridge while I slice the banana.

Izzy: I don't see it in the fridge.

Me: We only have the kind from the farmer.

Izzy brings it to the table and we open it up. Admittedly, this batch is not nearly as tempting as the first one we had received, definitely one drawback of small farmed goods, wild variation in flavors and textures from one week to the next. The sour cream is buttery yellow in color and ultra-thick, with a hint of cow. Izzy eyes it suspiciously.

Izzy: I don't like that kind of sour cream. I want the other kind.

Me: That is the only kind we have right now. I know it doesn't taste as good as it did last time but I can add some cinnamon sugar to it and that will perk it up. You could also have yogurt instead or even some heavy cream.

Izzy; No. I don't want any of that. I am not eating it. I don't want anything. Why didn't you buy the regular sour cream?

He proceeds to leave the table. Tears well up in his eyes and his face reddens as he folds his arms in a huff and plops down on the couch (an Oscar-worthy performance to say the least). I see him watching me and then he gets up and comes back into the kitchen. We examine the sour cream together. I totally understand his point and I think we can remedy the situation..so I tell him I have a great idea.

Me: I am going to mix heavy cream with the sour cream to make our own special sour cream.

Izzy watches with great interest as I stir the mixture which begins to look remarkably more like regular old industrial sour cream and eliminates the cow-like odor. I spoon it over the bananas and add a touch of cinnamon sugar. Izzy eats it up, musing about whether or not we can make homemade sour cream one day. Meanwhile I am wondering how we are going to use up the rest of that sour cream.

p.s. I had to dump the sour cream after A. sampled it and said it tasted like fish.

Loose Ends: Giveaway Winner And Granny Cart Update

Giveaway News

I am pleased to announce the winner of the Izzy Eats First Giveaway. Micaela of Mindful Momma will be the recipient of a lovely, organic Dillie T-shirt or onesie. Remember to check out the Dillie Tees at Sparrow and Bull where Izzy Eats readers can get a discount (great idea for those last minute kiddie gifts!) Just use the code DILLIEXO when ordering.


Granny Cart Update

Breaking three granny carts in less than two weeks can sure put a damper on shopping expeditions. After the last week's episode, I brought the damaged cart back to the shop on 14th Street (just east of 6th avenue) one of those strange electronics and other unrelated products shops. They were more then willing to exchange the broken cart for my last hope..just a simple, sturdy blue metal cart. It was the same model that had lasted for a few years so I am hopeful. I managed to bring it home in one piece and will show it off soon.

Pigs In Blankets: An Enduring Allure

Pigs in Blankets at a Hanukkah party? To my goyish husband's ears that sounded indecent. For the record, they were cows, not pigs at our party because although I am far from kosher I like to keep pork out of Jewish holiday celebrations. No prosciutto latkes in this house.

What my husband did not realize is that cocktail wienies have been standard Bar Mitzvah fare for ages and that lately they have been making a comeback on the cocktail party circuit. They would suit our Hanukkah party just fine.

The inspiration for preparing my these little cocktail wienies came from this article which appeared in The New York Times last year. The only thing I found problematic was finding an organic cocktail wienie. My search was unsuccessful so instead I fashioned my own out of Applegate Farms Great Organic Hotdogs, cutting them in thirds. Worked like a charm, following Martha Stewart's foolproof recipe and using Dufour Puff Pastry which is the other essential ingredient.

Rolling the wienies is the perfect job for little hands. Izzy was a whiz at it and made quick business of the entire batch, making 50 of them in no time at all. We only had twenty or so guests but fifty wienies magically disappeared in less than 30 minutes. Next time we will make 75! Long live the cocktail wienie!

This Smells Funny...

Would you taste it? Of course I would because it goes without saying that stinky foods require a second opinion. I know this because growing up, the following scenario was all to familiar to me:

My grandma, mother or stepmother would remove the milk, cream or whatever from the fridge, open it, sniff and then ask whoever was loafing about the kitchen to give it a sniff or taste. Makes perfect sense to me. What if their olfactory senses were just not working to full capacity that morning? What if they already had an "off" aroma from something else. I was always more than happy to help out, which saved milk from being poured down the drain.

For years now, I have been unable to get any help in this realm; married as I am to a man who cannot conceive of the idea of sniffing potentially rancid dairy products (What happened during his formative years? Was he served sour milk and expected to drink it?) Whenever I ask my husband to sniff or taste, he regards me as if I were crazed and replies, "Why would I need to taste that if you think it stinks? Do I need to get sick too?" Now I ask you, is it really going to harm him to take one little whiff? What is the big deal?

The sniffing and whiffing of my youth took place in the days of the milkman, when milk didn't really last for more than a few days anyway. With ultra-pasteurized milk available, milk seems to last for an inordinate amount of time, as do other dairy products, but they eventually do turn, which is when the sniff test is necessary, which hasn't been that often.

All this changed once I started buying raw dairy products. Now I find myself sniffing, whiffing and sampling daily to reassure yourself that the milk, cream or butter has not turned sour or rancid.

What I have discovered is that often, when there is an off aroma, it is just a small amount of cream that has congealed at the mouth of the bottle but the contents within are still fine. I discovered that I am not the only one who dares serve potentially rotten goods to her family. At least now I have Izzy to confirm whether our dairy supply is fresh or rotten. He is more than happy to serve as the resident nose, sniffing every product on demand.

OY: The Joy and Pain Of Latkes..In celebration of Hanukkah

Hanukkah just isn't Hanukkah without latkes.

Latkes. The basic potato latke recipe includes grated potatoes, eggs, matzoh meal salt, pepper and plenty of oil. The ingredients sound innocent but achieving latke perfection is a challenge. I blame this on the potatoes which, once grated, have a mind of their own. They change colors and exude liquid. You need to work quickly in order to prevent this but with a large batch of potatoes that isn't as easy as it sounds, especially with a pint-sized assistant who slows things down.

For today's party, I needed to prepare about 8 1lbs. of potatoes . First off, a food processor cannot hold that many potatoes so it has to be done in batches. And the longer the process takes the greater the risk of the potatoes changing colors. Trust me, pinkish brown or gray potatoes do not a pretty latke make.

With Izzy at the helm, pulsing those potatoes took longer than usual and the color change was difficult to avoid. To add insult to injury, I decided to add more oil to my pans than usual, creating a deep-fried burnished latke, certainly not to my liking but nothing a little applesauce couldn't fix. My preference would be for a golden brown latke, slightly crisp on the outside and soft on the inside. Which is how they came out last year..when someone else was frying my batter..was my batter different or the frying staff better..?

My only saving grace was that I decided to prepare the latkes early, before the guests arrived. In fact I started at about 12:30 and finished about 3:30..It was a messy and drawn out endeavor to say the least but it was over and I was able to shower before the party began, removing the oily residue which clung to my clothing and hair. All showered and ready, there were still a few things left to do. Latkes were not the only thing on the menu, which looked like this:

Hanukkah Menu 2007

Appetizers

Spiced Nuts
Pigs in Blankets (cows in this case and I modify the recipe)
Salmon Rillettes


Main Course

Brisket
Latkes and Applesauce
Apricot-Glazed Chicken Legs
Steamed Green Beans


Chocolate-Chip Cherry Rugelach
Brownies
Cheesecake


For once, everything was prepared in advance and I managed to have the hors d'oeuvres out when guests arrived. And even though the latkes were not perfect, everyone ate them anyway. My dad and Izzy liked them and Izzy even ate them cold, for lunch. This applesauce was just what they needed.

But I still crave the perfect latke so I might even make a small batch of them later on in the week, just so I can have one that is cooked the way I like. Otherwise I will wait until next Hanukkah.

And in case you were wondering, my brisket, which I will share on another occasion, must have been wonderful because, I., who is notoriously picky, was seen gobbling it up!