Our Lady of Sustenance

Crockpot Beef and Bean Stew

On January 1st, I commited to cooking at least one new recipe per week. I want to broaden my horizons in the kitchen, which to some, may already be rather broad. However, there is so much out there in the culinary world that I have yet to discover, try, or find. I feel like I've only just begun!

While I've made stews before, this one was particularly flavorful, and my boyfriend went in for seconds, and likened it to his Italian grandmother's cooking of yesteryear, so to say it was a real hit might actually be an understatement.

While working on photos for a cookbook, I had copious ingredients just waiting to be eating, so I just threw a bunch of ingredients together and wrote down the recipe. Here it is!

Crockpot Beef and Bean Stew

A couple of months ago, I picked up my friend Kristel for dinner. We had no plans; we only knew that Fremont was off limits. (She lives there, and eats there far too often.) So, we decided to visit someplace exotic -- nearby Wallingford.

What to eat? Thai? Pub grub? Indian food?

"Hey, what about Italian," I asked my dear friend.

"Yeah, I think I could do Italian. Where?"

"How about Bizarro's?" I suggested.

"Yes!" she answered with much enthusiasm.

Turns out, she had never been there. I, myself, have only been there once or twice before, but I remembered what I ate. And that was five years ago. That's how memorable it was. I'd been wanting to go back for quite a while. So here we were.

We walked in and immediately took notice of the eclectic art hanging from the walls, ceilings, and pillars. Even the table tops were unique art pieces. Despite the melange of knicky-knacky decor, it is actually a really classy place, albeit irreverently.

Even though the ambience is fabulous, and worth dining there for, the food actually makes the place. We started with homemade rosemary bread with balsamic dipping sauce. This quelled our near-starvation level of hunger (we hadn't eaten in, oh, two or three hours), so that we could actually enjoy ourselves and order with a clear head (rather than with our stomachs).

We then ordered the charcuterie and cheese plate, which had some fabulous cold cuts, including a spicy Spanish-style salami. My favorite was perhaps a dollop of honey atop fresh bread spread thickly with veal pate. Mamma mia!

We graduated to salads, and I had the most wonderful arugula salad. But really, the word "wonderful" is redundant here, as I find arugula itself just deliciously peppery yet wonderfully buttery. (You can hardly screw it up, in my humble opinion.) Here, it was paired perfectly with walnuts, and something sweet (cranberries)? I couldn't tell with my eyes, but my mouth loved it

After that, we ordered our meals, which were almost unnecessary, by that point. She ordered a delicious mushroom pasta with blue cheese. (I know of its quality because our "take home" boxes got switched at the end of the night and I had the rest the next day.) I ordered the Papardelli alla Bolognese, or ribbon noodles with a meat sauce. Not too saucy -- just right.

Conversations with Kristel, and a glass (or two) of the house pinot grigio, and I fell in love with Bizarro's all over again.

Oh, and did I mention it only cost us about $30 per person? That part was especially nice.

Bizarro's arugula salad and meat papardelli

How I came to conceive this blog has been a rather long journey, one that started in Germany, traversed through Belgium, and has landed here in Seattle.

I have been fascinated with all things culinary since working and studying in Europe in the early 90s. I’d always enjoyed good food and drink, but my job as a nanny had me actually cooking for an entire family. When I cook (versus just simply eating someone else’s cooking), I experience an appreciation for the food that goes beyond just enjoyment. I feel like I am helping sustain myself and others. I feel like I just created a meal from a bunch of scattered ingredients. I feel like a purveyor rather than a consumer.

Since learning my way around the kitchen, I have developed a love of gastronomy that rivals my other passions, writing and photography. So why not combine those passions and do food photography and writing…together? Thus, the idea of working on a cookbook was born. And now, this blog.

I have read many cookbooks, from cover to cover, much like my mother reads novels. I truly enjoy good food writing, by both gourmands and the common cook, and both with or without recipes. Cookbooks are my weakness, and I will spend hours reading recipes and earmarking the corners on the pages of the best-sounding recipes for later use. I especially enjoy cookbooks with photos. Food photography, if done well, turns the page into more than just a good read. It adds that third dimension to the dish. And, for some of us, a beautiful dish is just as wonderful on the eyes as it is on the tongue. As the Germans like to say “You also eat with your eyes.” 

Beyond just recipes, though, I love to contemplate the science of flavor, the chemistry of cooking, and the psychological and physiological effects that foods have on our minds and bodies. Food is, at its simplest form, sustenance. In a more complex form, it can be art. Or an addiction. Or a social stimulant. Foods and ingredients can be both the root of disease, as well as its cure.

We actually have a complex relationship with the things that we ingest, both in solid or liquid form, even though most of us probably seldom contemplate that relationship. Since a great many of us drink and eat regularly, a drink or a meal does not pack the same punch as it would for someone who has been fasting for a couple of weeks, or for a homeless person literally starving in the streets, or for someone who has been imprisoned and only given a meal once a day at best. For those people, eating is much more conscious, and the lack of nutrition is much more obvious than for those of us who eat all day long and never stop to ponder the alternative.

Simply put, we would not be able to survive without food. But, as with all things, moderation is the key. It would benefit us to develop a strong sense of balance in our meals, an affinity for the nutritional elements which graze our plates, and a real appreciation for the beauty of cuisine.

I fondled my mandolin slicer like it was an old lover. In fact, truth be told, I've missed it so much since I've been divorced from my kitchen that I nearly cried when I pulled it out of the box in my storage unit.

Since taking up residence with the grandfolks last September, my cooking has suffered greatly. Not necessarily the quality, although that has undoubted suffered a bit too, but the quantity. As much as I hate sounding like a culinary snob, I have to point out that their kitchen gadgets are, in my gastronomically biased opinion, substandard. You see, the last decade has seen me slowly stocking up on high-quality European cutlery and cookware. I've gotten used to high standards and gourmet gadgetry, so slicing and sauteeing and whisking and grinding just doesn't feel right in someone else's kitchen--especially not in a place where culinary prowess is not necessarily a virtue. (Baking, on the other hand, is heralded.) Basically, it can feel deeply unsatisfying chopping vegetables on a 3" x 5" plastic sheet when I'm accustomed to a solid wood 9" x 15" block with gutters.

My own utensils are packed away in boxes, waiting to be rescued and fondled lovingly in the comforts of my own kitchen someday soon. But with house prices the way they are, that doesn't look like it is likely in the next few months. And since the grandparents don't have ample enough room for my hoards of kitchenry in their small, humble hearth, in dark and lonely boxes they remain, nevertheless loved.

While the grandfolks don't carry the exact same standards for cooking, one thing they do love is when I cook. They might not aspire to do it themselves, but when it suddenly becomes available to them, they know a good meal when they smell one. So, once in a while, I'll throw a bunch of things together in a crockpot because it's easy and relatively inexpensive, and they love stews and soups and sauces. But I miss sauteeing and tossing salads and deglazing a pan and making my own vinaigrette. I feel... naked.

Last week, my luck changed.

Not only did I, after months of careful preparation, become self-employed (therefore affording me the luxury of setting my own schedule, including more time for cooking, if I so desire) but I was also requested by friends to bring a potato salad to a birthday party.

Potato salad.

It sounds so simple and ungourmet, but aye, did it change me!

The salad I chose to make is a German potato salad. And if you'll allow me to wax technical, it is actually a Bavarian potato salad, which is distinctly different from any other potato salad as it includes nothing resembling mayonnaise in it and in fact uses a homemade vinaigrette made with vinegar and broth.

But I digest... er, digress.

The potato salad itself was indeed good, but was utterly unassuming and nothing too extraordinary in appearance. But extraordinary it was. It singlehandedly served as a catalyst for returning back to my gourmandish tendencies. Upon serious reflection, I realize now that I needed a reason to make something. Any reason. Any dish. Just anything. So, I nearly wept when requested to bring a salad, and one that required a small amount of cooking. It's a sample salad to be sure, but it requires some minor technical skill. It employs the use of cucumbers (an odd but tasty and structurally pleasing ingredient) which must be sliced paper-thin. This is where the precious mandolin slicer became the tool that changed my world.

To cut the onions and the chives, I also used a favorite knife. And, in the process of removing the cooked skin from the boiled potatoes, I slipped and cut the upper side of my thumb requiring me to stop for a moment and bandage my finger.

Blood!

From a kitchen knife!

Oh, the joy. I smiled with glee as the blood beaded, not flowed, and smarted only a bit. This meant I was back! Oh yes. I am back.

And the best part was when I arrived at my destination, a birthday-party guest who I know only in passing acquaintence uttered the marvelous words "Oh! Who brought the German potato salad? Or Bavarian potato salad, to be precise."

I have a new friend and a new knife cut. I could not be happier.

Bavarian Potato Salad

Ingredients:
2 lbs. potatoes, boiled for 25 mins and drained
1 medium white onion, chopped
1 small bunch chives, chopped (reserve a few spring for garnish)
1 English cucumber, peeled and sliced paper-thin
1/3 cup white wine vinegar
1/4 cup olive oil
1/2 cup broth (or to taste)
Ample cracked pepper
Pinch of salt
Pinch of sugar

Directions:
Let the boiled potatoes cool and then peel and slice and put in a large serving bowl.
Add chopped onions, 3/4 of the chopped chives, and the cucumber slices.
Add the vinegar and oil, salt and pepper, and sugar.
Slowly add in the broth, one-third at a time, and toss the salad gently.
Keep adding broth until the salad is relatively salty.
Add more vinegar if it becomes too salty.
Garnish with remaining chopped chives and sprigs.
Enjoy!

I was asked recently what kind of photography I do. I answered “Weddings and also food and drink. Mostly still lifes.” The person laughed and replied that they couldn’t imagine “action” food shots -- aren’t they all still lifes?

It was funny. I laughed. But the real answer is no. If there is a person in the shot of food, it isn’t a “still life”. And I’ve taken many shots where food is being delivered to the table, or a person’s hand is on the fork ready to stab the pictured meal, or ingredients are being put together by a cook.

So here I give you: Action Shots.

Enjoy!

I wrote a feature food article for foodseattle.com. The emphasis was Capitol Hill dining (the district where I lived and where my studio is). A secondary emphasis was placed on restaurants with food that appeal to those with dietary considerations (vegans, etc.). The article is far from vegetarian, but I reference places with special menus since that is something that the site boasts of--not just food but ALL kinds of food, appealing to all types of diets. It's kind of a go-to place for Vegans to find out where to eat around town. So, I tried to throw some of that in the mix.

The writing is mine. The photography is mine. It's all mine, baby. (Including any typos you might find. Heh.) And shortly, they will be advertising my site on their site. Free publicity!