Flying Bean Salad

A few weeks ago, I cooked some cannelini beans because I was going to make a salad, but then I didn't make a salad, so I put them in the freezer.  Clarabelle has been giving me a really hard time about those beans, so last weekend, I defrosted them and cleaned out my fridge and made a salad.  It was last week so I don't remember for sure what was in there.  Probably grape tomatoes, olives, chopped peppers, and cucumber, and there was probably also some lettuce involved.


Big whoop, hm?  What makes it a flying salad, you might ask?


Well, I consumed it out on the deck in the beautiful weather, and I have some insistent lunch time companions:

This one thinks he can't jump up onto my chair, so as long as I don't make eye contact, I'm OK.


However, this one can jump:


Try and ignore that why dontcha.  It's breathing on you, remember, and after a while, it will start drooling and once that happens, it's only a matter of time before the drool starts dripping onto your leg.  Try and ignore THAT why dontcha.

So what makes it a flying bean salad?  In order to get some peace while I eat, I pick out a bean or a chunk of veg (Tiki loves vegetables) and toss it on out there so Tiki will get off me and go chase it down.  If I throw it far enough, he'll be occupied for a good thirty seconds before he comes back.  If I throw it too far, he won't go for it at all and I'll have ten seconds at most.

More than just fat-filled sugar bombs

That's right.  Regular visitors to the food channel on the Dirtbunny network have probably noticed that DB has a penchant for bragging about her special food, stuff like tiramisu, pasta bolognese, buche de noel, cinnamon rolls, etc.  And then there was a recent mention of a coconut layer cake.  Do not be misled.  We do not eat like that all the time at Chez Nous.  We eat a lot of crap too, mostly when DB has retired to her boudoir (literally or figuratively, cos she goes both ways) and can't be assed to act like an adult and sends The Man out for takeout--or worse--a bag of Ruffles and a tub of

Not your Olive Garden's tiramisu

So listen.  I don't even really know what tiramisu is exactly.  I have boycotted restaurant tiramisu because of the ubiquitousness.  Dirtbunnies hate hype.  But I saw a recipe for pannetone tiramisu and I thought it might be an interesting way to make use of at least some of the gigantic chocolate pannetone I got at Christmas time, and I actually made it around then and ended up ditching the recipe because Clarabelle told me I could never eat sugar again.  It was OK.  Kinda soggy.

But, I still had A LOT of pannetone.  So's I decided to make another one (sans recipe, because this is when I remembered throwing it away).  So here we have a non-gross tiramisu-like dessert that I improvised from a recipe I made once about four months ago.

No More Handmade Bread

What's Cooking Chez Dirtbunny?  A lot less than there should be.  The reason for this is that she broke the stove again.  PSYC!  Not really.  The reason for this is that Mr. Kitchen Aid Mixer has gone to the big small appliance junkyard in the sky.  He died this morning at about 11:20, while mixing flour into creamed butter and sugar for his last ever batch of cookies.  Needless to say, this makes Dirtbunny seethe with rage very sad.  Dirtbunny needs Mr. Kitchen Aid Mixer to bake bread, knead pasta dough,  and make stiff cookie doughs like biscotti.  Dirtbunny needs Mr. Kitchen Aid Mixer to make a proper cake batter.  Dirtbunny can use the crappy underpowered hand-held mixer to whip egg whites, and she can make whipped cream by hand with her biggest bowl and her biggest whisk.  Dirtbunny can still make pastry dough in her Cuisinart.  But cookies, cake, and bread are oh you tee out.

How I loved his power and his 5 quart mixing bowl!  Alas!

Now here's the surprising part.  Dirtbunny has decided not to replace him just yet, even though that means no biscotti, no cake, and crappy store-bought bread for The Man's sandwiches.  Bunny can temporarily do without these things.  *sigh*  Maybe come springtime, Dirtbunny will replace him as a reward for her own good behavior.  *sigh*  Not just replace him, but go for the upgrade.  I hope all my attachments, accessories, and pieces parts will still fit.  Grrr!  Bunny likes the powerful big boys after all.

In which Dirtbunny admits she was wrong

Remember Dirtbunny's advice about Pannetone?  OK so that only applies to the mini-pannetoni that come in a package the size of a coffee can (remember those?) and contain a product the size of a cupcake.  Also, it only applies to the pannetoni that feature those execrable little atrocities called citron that are made from allegedly-candied lemon peel.  If you know where to look, you can find a quite tasty pannetone featuring chocolate.  A nice kilo of pannetone al cioccolato goes for about seventeen clams at the Italian Store, which is about five bucks more than the horrid little 200g bitter lemon muffins go for at the Glutton Place.  Here's the kicker:  you have to be willing to brave the pizza and subs crowds to get to the pannetoni, some of which are stacked near the wine, but others of which are tucked in the displays under the deli counter.  Also, there are different kinds and some of them are, as we have documented, TERRIBLE, so you have to look carefully, and you have to read the labels, which might be in English, but might not be, and it's all in small print so if you're old like Dirtbunny, you have to peer over the tops of your spectacles and squint, all while trying not to be trampled by the horde that must have its sandwiches.   Another drawback is that you might get sidetracked by the sandwich offerings yourself, or you might get distracted by the wine, or the gelato that no one else carries, or the handmade ravioli that really taste like ricotta cheese just like they're supposed to, or the fabulous selection of DeCecco pasta because linguine fini is your favorite and no one else carries linguine fini any more plus they NEVER run out of rigatoni so you might as well pick up a coupla boxes, and then there are the marvelous marinated artichokes.

So you bought your seventeen dollar pannetone al cioccolato (although you ended up spending way more than that--Oops!).  What now?  You make a tiramisu!  Or french toast.  Or regular toast and spread it with mascarpone.  Or you sprinkle on a garnish of cocoa or powdered sugar and you eat it like cake.  And when you're sick of it, you make the scraps and leftovers into bread pudding.  And then you wait until next December, because that's when pannetoni are back in stock.

Don't be so hard on yourself

Fettuccine alla Bolognese:


Does it look like I fucked it up? No? Well, I did. I put in onion, celery, and carrot in a rough chop. I was supposed to take my roughly chopped veg, and chop them finely into a battuto before putting them in. My veg were too big, and did not melt away and disappear into the sauce. Plus, I took a nap and let it get a leetle too dry. And I skimmed off about 1/3 cup of saturated fat off the top, which I was not supposed to do.



So: not perfect, but still good AND I LEARNED A LOT *she said sarcastically*



The Man was too busy gulping his down beagle-style (why bother to chew or taste?) to appreciate it, but he said thank you nonetheless.

Seven Fucking Eggplants

So. A couple of Fridays ago, I went to the Fresh Fields and loaded up on all sorts of stuff I could put on bruschetta, because I was optimistic and in a good mood. This included four small eggplants, which I was going to roast, chop, season with balsamic vinegar and rosemary, and spread on toasted ciabatta. Then when I got home, I discovered that the stove was broken. I coulda maybe used the grill or even the George Foreman grill, but the whole broken stove thing was a major bummer and a major derailment of my preferred lifestyle, so I had no will for experimentation. So the eggplants, they sat in the crisper, along with some red bell peppers and the usual other crap.

Then, last Friday, the Old Woman showed up bearing three additional eggplants. So I ended up with seven fucking eggplants. Seven! HolyMaryMotherofGod SEVEN eggplants. I should point out that the Old Woman did not know I already had four eggplants, and if I had not already possessed four eggplants, I would have welcomed a gift of three lovely eggplants from the garden at the Old Folks Home. As it as, however, I had four and she brought me three.


4+3=7


You cannot possibly imagine the angst this caused me.

Oh yes we can. Everything causes you angst. You probably had to retire to your boudoir with the vapors.

Well, you don't know everything about me! I did not have to retire to my boudoir with the vapors. I just had to mull it over and I got sucked into a spiraling vortex of indecision. No vapors. So there!

Anyway, the stove is now fixed and the answer finally came to me: Eggplant Parmesan.

Duh!

Well it took me a while, OK? My brain is diseased, remember?

Oh please. Is that your excuse for everything now?

Maybe. Shut up!


As I was saying, I decided to make eggplant parmesan. You start with a decent tomato sauce. There are many different types of tomato sauces, but today's special was WhatEVer sauce, which is a combination of whatever tomatoes and tomato products I happened to have around plus an old red bell pepper that I was going to have to throw out tomorrow if I didn't use it. And an herb of choice. Today's lucky herb was oregano and marjoram.


Sauce: made.


Then you prepare the eggplants. Actually, you prepare the eggplants while the sauce is simmering, if you're efficient. Half the point of cooking is to try to get everything to be finished at about the same time.

To prepare the eggplants, retrieve them from the crisper. Oh dear. One of them didn't make it, poor thing. After chucking it in the trash bin a brief, but proper funeral, wash the six survivors. Peel the older ones, assume that the fresher ones will have a tender skin and if they don't, you can always gripe to the Old Folks later about the poor quality of the free vegetables they keep giving you, and slice them about 1/2 thick or so. I usually slice the the long way because the long slices are easier to arrange in a baking dish later than round ones are. Salt them generously and put them on a tray. Oh, please. Who has a tray? cookie sheet and let them sit for a while.

Why? No one ever tells you why.

Well, eggplants that are old tend to be bitter and more likely to give you that astringent sort of aaaacccckkkk in the back of your throat, and salting them draws out some of their liquid and with the liquid, some of their bitter juices and aaaacccckkkk-making properties.

How do you know if your eggplants are old?

Your eggplants are old if they:

1. are large (cuz it takes extra time for them to grow big, see)
2. are from the grocery store (you don't really wanna know how long it takes to get from the fields to the store)
3. have been sitting in your crisper for two weeks
4. are starting to get a few mushy spots

Fresh ones that are small and that came from the garden in the last day or so probably don't need to be sweated, so if I had cooked the three gift eggplants from the Old Folks in a prompt manner, they probably would not have needed sweating. Wait a minute. The Old Folks like to amuse themselves by messing with Dirtbunny. They really can't be trusted, especially not with something as important as food. God knows how old those eggplants were. They may have been trying to aaaacccckkkk Dirtbunny just for kicks. New Rule: Always sweat eggplants from the Old Folks.

You know, just because you cross it out doesn't mean we can't read it.

And your point is........?

Get over yourself. No one is trying to aaaacccckkkk you on purpose. Sheesh!

You're new here, then, and not familiar with the many ways in which Dirtbunny is cursed. How very nice for you.

Moving on..... after the salted slices have sat around for a while (say, about as long as it takes for the second half of the Man City v Wolves match, which Man City won no thanks to Craig Bellamy, that scrote), you will see some brown juices in droplets on the surface. Your slices are ready. So set up your assembly line:

Left to right: stack of paper towels for blotting brown stuff off slices, shallow dish of egg wash, shallow dish of seasoned bread crumbs...

Seasoned how?

Seasoned however you want for crying out loud. Just don't use the ones that come already seasoned from the can. Those are gross. They are only for stupid people who don't know what they're doing.

You didn't really answer the question, though, did you? We're beginning to see why Bossboy thinks you're a pain in the ass.

You don't get to cross stuff out! That's only for me! Now stop interrupting!

.....I season mine with salt, pepper, chopped flat-leaf parsley, and generous amounts of parmesan because that's where the name of the dish comes from, and a tray cookie sheet cutting board for receiving the slices.




Look who's helping Dirtbunny!

No one cares about your retarded dog.

That's not a very nice thing to say. Everyone loves Kirby!

that's what you think

So what you do next is

she's deaf. she can't hear us when we talk really small. heehee

you blot a slice on the paper towels, put it in the egg and flip it over to make sure it's all wet, then put it in the bread crumbs and get a good solid coating on there, and then put it aside on your....um....cutting board....

guess what?

....Repeat over and over....

what?

....until they are all done. Kirby is in this photo too, see?

chicken butt

If you're hardcore traditional, you fry them in an inch of olive oil until they're crunchy. If you'd rather spend your calories on alcohol, you don't bother with that. And here's more Kirby!!

yawn

So, what you do next is layer the slices in a baking dish with tomato sauce, shredded mozzarella, and more parmesan cheese, and then you bake it for about half an hour or so until you can poke a knife through the slices quite easily.

And that's what's for dinner. And that's how you get rid of seven fucking eggplants.

we hate eggplant