The Odd Broad

The Problem

I'm not particularly proud to admit this, but for the past seven days or so I've stopped at Trader Joe's every evening in a serious but futile attempt to purchase one item and one item only: a bag of Chocolate Covered Peanut Butter Pretzels.  (Insert dreamy sigh here.)

Up until this time I was harboring under the delusion that my relationship with this snack treat was casual; non-committal, even.  How naive I was.

I never knew how much they truly meant to me until I walked into Trader Joe's one day and they weren't there.  Hmmm. 

I decided to inquire as to their whereabouts, in as disinterested and blase an attitude as I could muster.  "Um, do you think you'll be getting any of those chocolate peanut butter pretzel things in?"  I won't lie; upon doing this, I immediately reached a new low.  But they HAD to be somewhere on the premises, goddammit!  And my question wasn't so far fetched, since the employees were unloading a shipment as we spoke.  Couldn't they unpack those effing crates any faster!?

The guy disappeared to check with his manager while I waited in shame over by the tortilla chips.  He then returned and delivered the somber news that they did not, in fact, have any pretzels in stock; but they'd definitely be getting a shipment in tomorrow.

Tomorrow.  It seemed so very far away.  At least I'd only have to wait 24 hours.

The next day I left work with a spring in my step.  I'd even joked to my work friends about having been so desperate for my chocolate pretzels that I'd actually asked after them.  It was all SO hilarious.

They didn't have them.  Trader Joe's didn't f**king have them!  I stared in disbelief at the empty shelf, shaking my head to and fro.  The label was there, describing the item; the price was there, the only things missing were...my pretzels!  But...but...but...the kid said they'd be in today.  He LIED to me!  The sonofabitching bastard.

I had a very bad problem.

I went back the following day.  They were closed.  Well, I suppose it was the Fourth of July, and all, the celebration of our nation's independence, blah, blah, blah...

I had a monkey on my back.  And he was covered in chocolate.

Went back Sunday.  Nada.

Monday.  Zilch.

Tuesday.  Nil.  Goose egg.  Nuthin'!

Hubby, being the sweet, caring man that he is, offered to go out and fetch me something else.  Some other delectable snack treat, perchance.  He even suggested pretzels, chocolate and peanut butter might be a nice idea.  Ha!  I laughed scornfully.  That wouldn't even remotely be the same!  And I wasn't interested in any Nestle's Flipz, either.  I didn't want a cheap imitation of these pretzels, I wanted the real effing deal!  It was making me grumpy.  (And a little insane.)

By Wednesday evening I'd given up entirely.  Who needs 'em?  That sort of thing.  I even wondered if perhaps my memory wasn't embellishing their scrumptiousness, making them seem tastier than they actually were.  Was my admiration for them truly that mighty, or had their abrupt absence merely made my heart grow fonder?  I walked into Trader Joe's that night to pick up a few things for dinner and almost forgot to even check the shelf that was once home to that delightful high calorie treat. 

But wait!  There, collectively beaming up at me, were bags upon bags of chocolate covered peanut butter pretzels!  Oh, sweet Jesus!  It was a modern day miracle.  I nearly wept for joy.  I'd been presenting a brave face to the world at large, but now, at last, it was over. 

Serving size: about six pieces.  Calorie Content: 200 per serving.  I tried to stay within the six piece parameter but who the hell was I kidding.  I can't expect to be civilized when it comes to these suckers.  I offered to share with Hubby, but he politely declined.  Perhaps he doesn't want me to run out.  EVER AGAIN.

These pretzels are good.  Dangerously good.  Too good for their own good.  That bag is gone, having been eaten by myself in two sittings, over two consecutive evenings.  I marvel, even now, at my miraculous self-control.  I stopped at Trader Joe's tonight to pick up another bag.  It's all very casual, I'll probably just have one or two...I can stop at any time...I swear...

STOP JUDGING ME!!!!

The Message

Hubby was watching Sports Center the other day and couldn't believe his eyes.  The announcers made a Hot Dog Soup reference!  What the? 

Hot dog soup, as far as I've ever known, is a recipe my grandmother concocted many years ago.  It's tomato based and delicious and everyone in my family eats it.  We come out of the womb craving it, in fact; it's just sort of in our blood.  I've even dedicated a post to it. 

This had to be a sign from my grandmother.  There's no doubt in my mind she's enjoying a heaping bowl of hot dog soup in Heaven now as I write. 

Love you, Nanny. xoxo

When life hands you a rainy day, make chicken pot pie

The day was cold, rainy, and to top it all off, the Yankees were in town.  But I didn't care, I was making pot pies.  Every day can't be sunny and gorgeous, after all, and this one provided me with the perfect opportunity to turn on my oven.  (In June.)

I wouldn't exactly call this dish figure friendly, but hell, I'm on the wagon and need some comfort.  Bacon and puff pastry really seem to do the trick.  I use a recipe from Nigella Lawson that I've modified slightly.  I think you'll like it.  Hubby and I do.

Ingredients:
3 Slices of bacon, (Chopped or scissored into tiny pieces)
1 Package Frozen Ready-Rolled Puff Pastry (Thawed)
1 Container Baby Portabella Mushrooms
1 1/2 Cups Low Sodium Chicken Stock
1 Pound Boneless Skinless Chicken Breast (Chopped into bite size pieces)
3 Cloves Minced Garlic
2 Shallots, diced
1 Tablespoon Thyme (1/2 Teaspoon if using dried)
1 Teaspoon olive Oil
2 1/2 Tablespoons Flour
1 Tablespoon Butter
Salt, Pepper

Preheat the oven to 425 degrees.  Into a plastic freezer bag, add the chicken, flour, thyme, and a little salt and pepper.  Seal up the bag and toss.  Set aside.

Pour the olive oil into a large skillet (I use my dutch oven) and saute the garlic and shallots over medium heat, until softened.  Add in the bacon and cook until crispy.  (I usually take my time on this step because in our house we like our bacon crispy.) 

Stir in the mushrooms and cook until softened.

Add in the tablespoon of butter, then tip in the contents of the freezer bag (adding the chicken, flour and thyme.)  Stir everything around until the chicken starts to brown, about 3-5 minutes.

Pour in the chicken stock and stir; let the mixture come to a bubble and simmer until thickened, about 5 minutes.  (If needed, add in a little more salt, pepper and thyme, to taste.)

Take two 1 1/4 cup pie pots (or au gratin pots) and dampen the rims with water.  Cut thin strips out of the puff pastry and press around the rims.  (See picture above.)  Cut two small circles out of the puff pastry, for lids, and set aside.

Next, fill the pots with the chicken and mushroom mixture.  Dampen the puff pastry ring around the pie pots with water, and top each one with a lid.  Seal the edges with the prongs of a fork and bake for 20 minutes, turning them once halfway through cooking. 

They'll be piping hot when they come out of the oven, so if you have the self control to, it's a good idea to let them cool a bit.  I cannot tell a lie; I usually just go ahead and burn my tongue.  These pies are that good.  I could eat them every day, although I'm sure that's not advisable.  I also enjoy eating this meal with a spoon and a fork, because that's just the way I roll.

The next time the weather turns lousy, turn on your oven!  xoxo
 

Snacking

Sissy introduced me to this winning edible combination a few weeks ago and I can't stop eating it.  Corn Thins plus Nutella equals...my own tiny little slice of Heaven.  xoxo

Where's the beef?

Sometimes I think the restaurants in Boston are taking the piss. 

Take the meal I ate the other night at Whiskey's on Boylston, for example.  I ordered beef fajitas, which turned out to be about two pounds of peppers and onions and seven emaciated little strips of beef.  Seven.  (I know this because my plate was so ridiculous looking that Hubby and I actually counted.)  It was the weirdest thing ever and I've done my best to recreate this oddity in the drawing below. 

Is it because Boston is a college town, and therefore the standards are lower?  In New York there was always a plethora of cheap and cheerful places that offered tasty, quality food!  (And a G. damn mojito didn't cost me ten to twelve bucks.  And it actually tasted good.)

It didn't take long to scarf down my skimpy beef fajitas at Whiskey's.  It was only around 6:30 or so, but a girl at the table next to us was already so drunk she'd fallen off her bar stool.  (Not that I judge.  Broads who live in glass houses...)  By the time we left, the place was packed and there was a line out the door.  All up and down Boylston the kids were getting their drink on.  

I suppose they're going to pay up no matter what?  Still, I wish the standards were a bit higher.  

Oh, by the way, here's what half of a $10 steak sandwich at Dillon's looks like:

Where's the effing beef?  They're totally taking the piss.  Gordon Ramsey would have himself a field day.

Eat at Home. (Especially if someone else is cooking!)

Hubby cooked dinner tonight while Kittie and I laid on the couch drinking Oyster Bay and watching the Oprah interview with Tonya Harding and Lorena Bobbitt. 

What he prepared was his specialty: Chicken, Brie and Broccoli, and I'd been meaning to tell you about it.

***

What you'll need: 1 large wedge of Brie cheese * 1 lb Boneless, skinless chicken breasts * 4 cups Broccoli Florets (frozen are fine, just defrost and drain) * 2 cloves of garlic, chopped * 1 diced tomato * Olive oil * Salt, Pepper

What to do: Season the chicken with olive oil, salt and pepper and grill two minutes per side in a skillet or grill pan.  Transfer to a baking sheet and bake on 375 for 20-25 minutes, depending on thickness.  (Hubby sometimes pounds the chicken to make it thinner.  Now that we no longer reside above Smeagol and Smeagol's Mother it really doesn't matter how loud we cook.) 

While the chicken is baking, prep the rest of your ingredients.  Dice the garlic, seed and chop the tomato, remove the rind from the brie (and eat it), and cut the rest of the cheese into small chunks for faster melting.

Remove chicken from oven, let rest, and slice.  Note: If you don't want to use your oven you can also cook the chicken on the stove top, whichever you prefer.

Meanwhile, in a large skillet, heat oil over medium heat and add the garlic and broccoli.  Saute until caramelized and sprinkle with salt and pepper to taste.  Add the brie to the broccoli mixture and stir to combine.  Lower the heat and toss in the chicken and diced tomatoes.  Stir until melty and gooey.  EAT.

Thank you, Hubby.  xoxo

The Odd Foodie

This week, I'm pleased to introduce a new restaurant review feature to Odd Broad Land, lovingly entitled:

First up is Bouchee, on Newbury Street, which bills itself as an Urban Brasserie.  This month, Hubby and I are celebrating eleven years of being together (that's over a third of our lives, y'all!) and we wanted to nosh on something extra special.

SERVICE: Friendly but neglectful.  Although there certainly appeared to be a plenitude of staff on duty, it still took five to ten minutes before anyone offered us any water, let alone booze.  (And if I thought it took forever to get our hands on a measly glass of sauv blanc (small pour) and a dirty martini, it took even longer to place our order.)  Our waiter was pleasant, but he kept performing a disappearing act.  (Was he cooking our damn dinner?)  As it turned out, he was preoccupied with two larger parties, which explains why Hubby and I were a forgotten little two-top.  As Hubby put it at one point in the evening: I just made direct eye contact with three different people and still nobody's coming over!  

DECOR: Hubby didn't like the way everything had its name inscribed on it.  (The napkins, plates and glasses all reminded us we were eating at Bouchee.)  As for me, I find personalization kind of charming so it didn't really bother me.  There were no candles on the tables and the lighting was rather bright.  Not really the stuff romantic meals are made of, but you live and learn. 

APPS: For appetizers, we opted for the warm olive plate and a crabcake special.  Much to Hubby's chagrin, the warm olive plate turned out to be literally just that: a dish of warm olives.  And nary a slice of crusty bread in sight!  The crabcakes were yummy though.

ENTREES:  Feeling snuggly, we decided upon the roasted chicken pour deux, which was served with au jus, pomme frites, garlic aeoli, and asparagus.  My spirits lifted at the announcement of the garlic aeoli, though once I tasted it they fizzled back down again.  (I'm a bit of a garlic aeoli snob, however.)   

Now, I adore a nice roasted chicken.  But I'm sad to report that the roasted chicken at Bouchee was terribly disappointing.  The meat was bland; and Hubby, channeling Gordon Ramsey, wondered if it hadn't been thrown into the deep fryer for a second before being served.  I have to agree the skin did taste mysteriously like it had been placed in a fryer.

DESSERT: We'd sat down a little before seven and it was now nearing nine, and so we opted to pass on our waiter's half hearted attempt at dessert.  By that point we just wanted to get the hell out of there.  

THE BROAD'S VERDICT: Two rounds of drinks, two apps and two entrees ran us about $117, including tax and 20% gratuity.  Personally, if we're going to shell out that much hard earned dough we expect dinner to be pretty damn tasty!  This isn't the place to go if you're looking for romance or to celebrate a special occasion, but having said that, I wouldn't categorize Bouchee as cheap and cheerful, either.  Taking into consideration the slow service, the dissatisfying French fare and the fact that this was our anniversary, my verdict is thus: One and a half glasses of Riesling.  Just not worth the moolah.  (Especially in this economy!)

 

P.S.

I feel I should add a visual addendum to my last post, seeing as SOMEONE got up early enough this morning to not only make steel cut oats, but also to eat them, and most importantly...to tell you all about it.  Yay fiber! 

Of course this probably means I'll be late for work...xoxo

Fiber

Everyone's talking about Steel Cut Oats.  (OK, when I say everyone, I really mean Oprah.)  The funny thing is, when Hubby first took note of my newly found obsession with said oats, the first words out of his ever observant mouth were, "Who says to eat steel cut oats...Oprah?"  For some reason I chose to deny this accusation vehemently.  Until now. 

Lately I've really wanted to buy myself a nice tub of steel cut oats, until I discovered they took over twenty-five minutes to prepare.  This deterred me only briefly, however, as I found some yesterday at Trader Joe's that require a mere eight minutes cooking time!  I can spare eight lousy minutes in the morning, can I not? 

Hubby doesn't think I'm ever going to make the steel cut oats.  He believes they are going to sit in our cabinet collecting dust for the next two to three years.  We've been down this road before.

I'm not sure I disagree. 

Superbowl Noshing

Friday nights in high school often found me watching football games, cuddled under a blanket, hot chocolate in one hand and sausage on a stick in the other.  Sometimes I still dream about those sausages...

Some years ago, my Godmother let me in on a sweet little secret.  She knew how to make those sausages!  And, she assured me, I would never believe the bizarre list of ingredients.

I still don't like to tell anyone.  I made these sausages the last time Hubby and I hosted a party in New York, and just before our guests arrived I turned to my better half and uttered an earnest culinary plea: Don't tell anybody the recipe.  He complied.  Secret keeping has never been one of my strong points, however, and as the party wore on people took note of my delectable sausage offering.  So much so, in fact, that more than one friend was compelled to inquire, how do you make this? 

What can I say?  I sang like a canary.  I will blame Mike's Hard Lemonade.  Below is the recipe.  Prepare this tasty party snack and trust me, your guests won't be sorry.

In a large saute pan, combine equal parts tomato ketchup and grape jelly and simmer until the mixture no longer tastes like either ingredient.  Toss in sliced beef kielbasa to coat.  Stash in a crock pot to keep warm. 

It's that easy!  And you won't believe how delicious it is.  xoxo