In my family, seafood gumbo is the ultimate dish to prepare and eat. Gumbo is always an event, because it's absolutely delicious, labor intensive, and loaded with familial memories. Not a complicated dish, it has definite quirks. You must prepare a dark brown, (or black, if you're a gumbo master) roux, which can take an hour or two of constant stirring. And there are the shrimps, massive amounts of them, which require
teams of people, peeling and deveining until you feel your sanity start to slip. The kids had the job of peeling shrimp, and I'm convinced that the major reason people have children in my family is to ensure a steady pool of shrimp laborers. Until my mom died, I never put the gumbo together. I never had that honor. I just peeled shrimp for hours until I wanted to scream, while my mom and her sisters argued the finer points of sauteeing the vegetables, or the proper color for the roux. Try peeling 20-40 pounds of shrimp. The last time my cousins and I did that amount, about 15 years ago, we wound up fighting and throwing shrimp at each other. When I was a child, gumbo was a cheap dish to prepare. My grandmother
would go to the docks and buy shrimp for less than a dollar a pound.
And she caught her own beautiful blue crabs. Now, gumbo is quite
pricey to make. I made a pot of it for Thanksgiving and wound up
paying almost $200 for the shrimp and crab. Small wonder that I rarely
make it now.
Remember the scene in Big Night, where Stanley Tucci and Tony Shaloub unmold an enormous Timpano? That scene made quite an impression on me, but I never attempted anything close to that amazing dish. Today I decided to try Michael Chiarello's recipe for Pastina Timbale. One look at the
ingredients told me it would taste great, whether it unmolded properly or not. In fact, I confess to feeling pessimistic about this cooking adventure when I began. To my delight, each timbale was perfect, and I'm now determined to make a huge version someday. The main ingredient is tiny little pasta about the size of large couscous, with a delicious dusting of crisp bread crumbs, parsley, and parmesan. I think this recipe is perfect for Presto Pasta Night, which was created by Ruth at Once Upon A Feast. Every Friday pasta lovers from around the world share their recipes, so do stop by her site and see them.
I was quite happy when I learned that the fabulous Tanna at My Kitchen In Half Cups chose potato bread as our Daring Bakers challenge for this month. I thought it would make perfect dinner rolls for Thanksgiving. But, I later decided to make shrimp gumbo instead of the traditional turkey, and knew no one would want to sacrifice valuable gumbo space in their stomach for bread. Then, late Saturday night I suddenly realized that the
deadline to fulfill the Daring Baker's Challenge was drawing to a close. Early Sunday morning I woke up early and raced to the store for potatoes and yeast. Fortunately, at that time in the morning, no one pays any attention if you're dressed in sweat pants, pajama top, and flip flops decorated with daisies. When I arrived back home, with my provisions, I re-read the recipe and realized Tanna wanted us to be creative with this challenge. I started making the bread, waiting for some sort of lightbulb moment inspiring a dazzling approach to this recipe. It never came. But, I did bake the best damn potato bread, I've ever eaten! And, I pushed the envelope on the amount of potatoes I added to the bread.
I ate a lot of shrimp. Mom made gumbo and had to shell ten pounds of it, so I got quite a few. Delicious. Then I went shopping on Friday, and found this great scarf at Bertha's Kitty Boutique. Do you like it?
Like many people, I've been pre-occupied with getting ready for Thanksgiving. This year I'm not making the traditional meal with turkey and mashed potatoes. Instead, I'm serving shrimp and crab file' gumbo. There won't be many side dishes. No one in my family would eat them, because they take up valuable stomach
space from the gumbo. But, I did make a terrific appetizer that was so good, I had to talk myself down from eating it all up right after I made it. This sun-dried tomato dip is absolutely fabulous. Upon tasting it, my friend Nancy exclaimed, "It's like Italian flavors exploding in your mouth!" It's perfect paired with the herb pita crips. As the herbs are quite pronounced here, this makes a perfect dish for Weekend Herb Blogging, which was created by the fabulous Kalyn at Kalyn's Kitchen. The delightful Truffle at What's on My Plate is hosting WHB this week.
This dieting is driving me crazy. Mom is obsessed with it, if you ask me. I've been trying to break her down with my patented "meow every five seconds until she gives me more food." It used to work, but now she ignores me. Or she gives me a pep talk. Today, she actually held my paw, looked deep into my eyes and said that hunger is our friend because it means we're losing weight. She heard that crap when Dr.Oz was on Oprah. I was there when she heard him say it, and I knew it was going to cause problems. Hunger is not my friend. It means people are not fulfilling their obligation to keep me well fed and happy. Skinny cats are unhappy cats. Or brainwashed.
I'm proud to carry most of my weight around my stomach.
I always clean out my freezer when family and friends are expected for Thanksgiving dinner. For some reason, I'm afraid that one of them will inexplicably decide to inspect said freezer, and scream in horror upon seeing my chaotic system of storage. So, just in case there's a surprise inspection next Thursday, I cleaned and organized
it today. There were some interesting finds in there. Hidden back in one corner, under a bag of frozen pesto cubes, I found two unlabeled containers of some sort of frozen liquid, possibly corn and mushroom stock. And there were several bags of cranberries that I bought to make jam, but never did. I found lots of nuts, pastry scraps and small bags of eggs whites. But, best of all, I found a small package of chicken-apple cocktail franks and half of a whole wheat baguette. I don't know how long the little franks have been hidden in there, but I decided to use them for my lunch. I cooked them briefly in a skillet (they were pre-cooked) and slapped them onto the baguette with some tomato relish. Suddenly, cleaning the freezer was a good thing.
I love wontons. But, I only crave the soft, boiled versions, not the fried ones. Supposedly, the word wonton means "swallowing clouds." True or not, it perfectly describes the way they look, floating in a bowl ofbroth. Eating the delicate, soft pasta skins stuffed with filling is sheer bliss. I normally have them in wonton soup, but these were piled into serving bowls, with a fabulous lime dipping sauce spooned on top. Great happiness filled me as I ate these little gems. Some people think the Chinese invented pasta, and some say they didn't. I really don't care about that. I'm just eternally grateful that they invented the wonton.
This week vermin are hosting Weekend Cat Blogging. If you wish to take part, leave a comment here or e-mail us at upsie {AT} yahoo {DOT} com. We will addeach kitty at the end of this post, as they come in. Don't forget The Friday Ark, Bad Kitty Cats Festival of Chaos at Cassie & Gang at This That And The Other, and The Carnival of the Cats at Justin's Random Thoughts. Signed, Upsie
Hi, remember us? We are almost growed up and everything. Tomorrow mommy is going to
put us in the big outdoor cage. We are very happy about that. Remember what we looked like a couple months ago? Well, things have changed. The Western Gray squirrels left a couple weeks ago to be wilded up in Sacramento. They were really scary dudes. In case you forgot, we are Fox squirrels and we aren't as big as the Grays.
To the person who broke into my house and stole my cellophane noodles: Rot in hell! They were in my
pantry, earmarked for a nice stir-fried dish for today's dinner. Maybe you're the same person who broke into another Davis home several years ago, and ate all the home owner's cheese. (That really happened, it was on the police blotter.) Your theft of innocent cellophane noodles kept me from making my stir-fry, but you overlooked a box of angel hair pasta in the pantry. So, I made a nice soup using them and the left over rotisserie chicken I bought a few days ago. If you ever come into my house again, my diabetic attack cat will tear your arm off.
OK, maybe I'm mistaken. Maybe all this dieting is making me irrational. Maybe I need some nachos, which scientific research has shown to be best for your brain. Or was it fish?
teams of people, peeling and deveining until you feel your sanity start to slip. The kids had the job of peeling shrimp, and I'm convinced that the major reason people have children in my family is to ensure a steady pool of shrimp laborers. Until my mom died, I never put the gumbo together. I never had that honor. I just peeled shrimp for hours until I wanted to scream, while my mom and her sisters argued the finer points of sauteeing the vegetables, or the proper color for the roux. Try peeling 20-40 pounds of shrimp. The last time my cousins and I did that amount, about 15 years ago, we wound up fighting and throwing shrimp at each other. When I was a child, gumbo was a cheap dish to prepare. My grandmother
would go to the docks and buy shrimp for less than a dollar a pound.
And she caught her own beautiful blue crabs. Now, gumbo is quite
pricey to make. I made a pot of it for Thanksgiving and wound up
paying almost $200 for the shrimp and crab. Small wonder that I rarely
make it now. 
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