Sunday, November 25, 2012

Grandma's turkey and noodles.

(L) Grandma in the kitchen. (R) Turkey & noodles, center stage. © Ryan Schierling
When the time to taste-test the noodles comes, Grandma Dot is curt, and slightly critical. "They're tough," she says immediately. "They need more time." For those noodles, we will gladly, patiently, reverently wait, year after year.

In this age of ever-faster food there is one ingredient often unavailable – one that not everyone can afford, and that ingredient is time.

This recipe is a legacy, going back more than 100 years and at least four generations in our family. It may predate my Great Grandma Carpenter, but hers was the first turkey and noodles I remember having as a young child. When I was a bit older, Grandma Dot's holiday meals weren't complete without turkey and noodles. My mom's been making them for years as well, and I've finally gotten a hand on the family egg noodle recipe to go with my own turkey stock.

If you like chicken and dumplings, you'll love these noodles, simple and swaddled in a velvety turkey stock thickened by the flour-dusted noodles themselves. Served over mashed potatoes, they are the holiday side that everyone in our family looks forward to more than the main course itself. But, they take time.

Sunday, November 18, 2012

Trade routes.

A fraction of the Trader Joe's cheese aisle. San Antonio, Texas. © Ryan Schierling

When we used to live in Seattle, I'd see commercials on television for Sonic, and yet, there wasn't a Sonic within 500 miles of us. It was infuriating when that 30-second spot would set a wicked craving for a cherry limeade and a SuperSonic double cheeseburger with jalapeƱos, and I knew I'd be left sadly unfulfilled. Now, after we've moved away, there are three Sonic drive-ins a quick jaunt from the old zip code.

When we relocated to Austin, we had a bit of grocery nostalgia for our local Trader Joe's store at the top of Queen Anne hill, which was a short walk from our place in the LQA. We certainly didn't do the bulk of our shopping there, but the inexpensive prices on normally-spendy items like Italian and Spanish olive oil, cheese, wine and artisan breads made it destination shopping on a regular basis.

Thankfully, the cost of living here in Austin was a pleasant surprise. Housing, food and fuel were all considerably cheaper than the Pacific Northwest. We didn't necessarily need "expensive" grocery items to be less expensive, because they were already a steal compared to what we were paying prior. Here, our neighborhood grocer had a handful of similar items at similar prices, but we still missed the ol' TJ's aesthetic.

And, there are a few things that just weren't available. We recently visited Seattle for a wedding, and the last place we stopped before heading back to the airport to fly home to Austin was… Trader Joe's. A half-dozen Essential Baking Company rosemary diamante boules were procured and smuggled onto the flight. We had to. We've found there is no equal in Austin and Julie's egg salad sandwiches cannot be reproduced properly without this bread.

There are also certain things we've done without since we're no longer living walking distance from a TJ's. Those insanely-delicious house-brand dark chocolate-covered caramels, that $1.69 salsa autentica that works so brilliantly with patacones, the pesto-filled tortellini used in J's chicken-noodle soup, the reasonably-priced rustic crackers, the crazy-cheap cheeeeeeeses, and the surreptitiously-splendid blue-collar two-buck Chuck. Today, at the brand-new TJ's in San Antonio, we stocked up.

There is a Trader Joe's planned for Austin in 2014, and I can't wait to add it to the grocery store rounds we make on a regular basis, probably right between Fiesta in south Austin and MT Market up north. But if Julie asks me to check for that disgusting, foul Australian black "liquorice" she used to get at TJ's in Seattle, I'm just going to have to tell her that, sadly, it's unavailable in this market

350 East Basse Road. Be warned, parking is... difficult. © Ryan Schierling

Sunday, November 11, 2012

Refrigerator art openings.

Fusilli and cheese. © Ryan Schierling
There are only two uses for boxed macaroni and cheese dinner as far as I'm concerned. We repurpose the powdered processed cheese packets for use in a sour cream-based "enchilada-flavored" dip that is served with sweet little thin wheat crackers. It sounds a bit lowbrow, and that's just how we do it. As for the tiny, barely-elbow boxed macaroni noodles, they are painted, glittered and glued to colored construction paper and the mosaics are displayed proudly on the refrigerator. Also lowbrow, and maybe a little kindergarten, but you should see my version of Van Gogh's Starry Night

There is a time and place for fancy baked macaroni and cheese dishes, and we have been known to throw down some grown-up mac-n-cheeses when we're having an art opening on the ol' fridge. But there is also a time for simplicity, frugality, and a little bit of nostalgia. So we're giving you a grown-up kid's macaroni and cheese, simple in concept and execution, that Julie's been making for the last decade. Your inner (or actual) ten-year-old will dig it. If you're feeling particularly adult and prefer a fancier baked dish, we're also including our recipe for a smoky, slightly-spicy baked macaroni and cheese. Either way, a healthy glass of red wine is a necessity for these dishes. For the cheatin' version, you can totally get away with Two Buck Chuck. You know, as somewhat of a digestivo

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