On Craving a Little Lot of Spice

A cold has made its untimely appearance. Rather than risk bronchitis, I decided to forgo a skiing trip I had planned to attend this weekend. However, being sequestered indoors just leads to listlessness and hunger,  so naturally my thoughts turn to foods noted for their high levels of heat and spice. Carrot Ginger soup (recipe courtesy of a search on the Food Network) certainly fits the bill. I’ve made it twice already: The most recent batch was consumed last week and I am currently entertaining requests for a third pot. This recipe sounds like a keeper to me. And it is such a welcome departure from bland, quotidian side dishes.

Now that I am sick, it sounds even better — only now I’m hoping that someone else makes it for me.

Carrot Ginger Soup2 tablespoons butter
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 cup diced onions
1/2 cup diced celery
1/4 cup minced ginger*
1 tablespoon minced garlic
1/2 pound carrots, peeled and roughly chopped
4 to 6 cups chicken (or/and vegetable) stock
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground white pepper
1 bay leaf
1/2 cup heavy cream or evaporated milk (healthier option)
A few dashes of nutmeg, celery salt, onion salt
1/4 cup sour cream
Chopped chives, for garnish

Instructions
Set a 4-quart stock pot over medium-high heat. Add the butter and olive
oil to the pot. Once the butter is melted, place the onions and celery in the pot. Sweat the vegetables until the onions are translucent, about 3 to 4 minutes. Add the ginger and garlic to the pot and cook for 30 seconds. Place all of the carrots in the pot and cook, stirring occasionally, until the carrots are lightly caramelized and start to soften, about 7 to 8 minutes. Add the stock, salt, pepper and bay leaf to the pot and bring to a boil, then reduce to a simmer. Cook the soup until the carrots are tender, about 20 to 25 minutes. Add a few dashes of nutmeg, celery salt and onion salt to taste.

Remove the bay leaf from the pot and using an immersion blender puree the soup directly in the pot or in batches in a bar blender. Adjust the seasoning, add the heavy cream to the pot.

To serve, garnish with 1 tablespoon of sour cream per serving and a sprinkling of fresh chives.

(*too spicy for some people’s tastes — reduce this amount or make a double batch)

On Eating Out (of House and Home)

During my brief tenure as a reader of personal finance websites, I’ve enjoyed many articles and blog entries devoted to the subject of frugal living. Many posters like to ruminate on specific topics; others share a plethora of bulleted lists, tips, or DIY’s — all of which provide suggestions on trimming weekly/monthly expenditures. After awhile, however, many of these tips run together. And above all, one suggestion seems to be universal: Decrease (if not eliminate) your eating-out activities.    

Had I stumbled upon this suggestion as recently as one year ago, it would have been a bitter pill to swallow. Dining out is a pleasant activity, one that I enjoy very much. Growing up, my family and I used to eat out every Friday night. In our high school years my friends and I similarly welcomed the weekend at bustling restaurants, prior to taking a movie.

This activity still holds warm associations with the weekend’s arrival, but, for me, the rate of frequency reached levels of absurdity throughout college and into my mid-twenties. Despite living in an area that boasts a mediocre selection of quality eateries, I do have certain favorites, ones I used to frequent at a startling rate. As a young adult I indulged in the art of solo dining, all too frequently. 

Now, my generation regards this as a shameful activity, this dining alone in public. Many view eating as a purely social activity than a necessity required of living, much less an art. Perhaps the idea of eating alone hearkens back to school-days, where the image of social outcasts munching their lonely viands at empty tables burns brightly. Maybe you were that kid. Some acquaintances of mine would rather skip a meal than risk being observed dining alone. I’ve never been overly self-conscious about it. To me, the sublimity of dining in elegant solitude overruled any slight misgivings I felt. Yes, I am without company this evening: what of it? Must I also be deprived of a good dinner?

But I digress. There came a time when I deemed all of this eating out a danger— to my health and wallet alike. It helped that this realization came in tandem with my participation in a local hiking group, where I experienced difficulty climbing steep hills. Soon my penchant for eating out-of-home withered. Instead, I cooked. (Unlike certain fellow post-baby boom females, I do not feel any particular aversion to cooking.) And whenever I feel like going simple, one can make many-a meal out of warm oatmeal, salad greens and fresh fruit, without much difficulty. In addition to reducing my weekly food expenditure from dollars to pennies, I also have enjoyed significant improvements in my overall health.

But quitting anything cold-turkey is hard. And frankly, it offends one’s sense of balance. Tonight, after finding myself especially hungry and having little on hand to constitute a decent meal, I ventured out to procure food from a restaurant I used to frequent. Prior to today, I hadn’t eaten out in a month. And how was tonight’s experience? It fulfilled its function, having sated my appetite and spared me of a sinkful of dirty dishes. But, I admit, it was expensive and not as a healthy as I am used to. The experience didn’t awaken any pangs or pining for my old habit. Thus, I may safely assume that takeout dinners are, thankfully, a thing of the past.

Gingerbread

A friend brought these cookies to a Christmas party a few years ago and everyone (myself included) begged her for the recipe. I make them once a year– every year–and they never lose appeal. Who can resist soft, homemade cookies?

A few caveats: The resulting dough is incredibly viscous and messy. The recipe’s suggestion of 1/2 cup additional flour is insufficient–at least 3 1/2 cups are necessary to prevent stickyness. Also: I substitute Splenda for the sugar. 

1 cup sugar
2 teaspoons ginger
1 teaspoon nutmeg
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1 1/2 teaspoons baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 cup melted margarine
1/2 cup evaporated milk
1 cup unsulfered molasses
3/4 teaspoon vanilla extract
3/4 teaspoon lemon extract
4 cups stone-ground or unbleached flour, unsifted

Combine the sugar, ginger, nutmeg, cinnamon, salt, and baking soda. Mix well. Add the melted margarine, evaporated milk and molasses. Add the extracts. Mix well. Add the flour 1 cup at a time, stirring constantly. The dough should be stiff enough to handle without sticking to fingers. Knead the dough for a smoother texture. Add up to ½ cup additional flour if necessary to prevent sticking. When the dough is smooth, roll it out ¼ inch thick on a floured surface and cut it into cookies. Bake on floured or greased cookie sheets in a preheated 375° F oven for 10 to 12 minutes. The gingerbread cookies are done when they spring back when touched.