Friday Cooking
I had a chance to go to the farmer's market and the grocery store last night after deciding that it was okay to drop $20 on some groceries despite being sort of anxious about my (lack of a) revenue stream for the summer. That could change next week, hopefully.
Anyway, I decided to make a tomato sauce since that is relatively cheap, labor intensive (which is good) and creates a large bounty of deliciousness. I'm also making some stuff for tomorrow, but I've been meaning to post a recipe for a good tomato sauce. The techniques I use are passed down from my Italian friend's mom and my own innovations. Some things, like the addition of sugar and the use of canned tomatoes, are pretty contentious subjects and ones which are left up to personal discretion, but I address them. It's all behind the cut.
First, you're going to want to put on a shuffle of Rossini's overtures. This adds Authenticity to the whole process and besides is a great delight - both of these things are desirable.
The ingredients you will need are:
1 pound of tomatoes
1 28 oz can of crushed or pureed tomatoes (if you're local grocery store carries it, Pomi is worth the extra dollar.)
1 6 oz can of tomato paste
1 medium onion, diced
3-4 cloves of garlic, minced
1 pound of button mushrooms
olive oil
whatever herbs you like (basil, oregano, parsley, etc.)
Put the (non-canned) tomatoes into some water and put the heat on medium. While the water comes to temperature, begin dicing your onions and mincing your garlic. Monitor the tomatoes and after a several minutes or so they should begin to peel. Turn them over with a slotted spoon or whatever until they look peely enough for you to finish the job with your own hands - after, of course, they have cooled off.
Remove the tomatoes from the water and place on a plate to cool. While they are cooling, heat up your olive oil in a large saucepan. Determine if the olive oil is hot enough: use your sense of smell, if you have a good sense of smell, and find out if it smells much more like olive oil in the kitchen than it did before you added the olive oil to the pan. If you do not have a good sense of smell you can put your hand a few inches from the oil and judge its warmth. But if you have burnt the hell out of your hands - let's say you did not listen to me or you have no concept of chemistry and you tried to peel the tomatoes with your hands before they cooled - then you are completely fucked and should cry because you have ruined everything.
Wait. No, see I have to stop here. If you're going to be doing a lot of cooking, you need to work on your sense of smell. You can do this by extensive prayer and lying; the latter works only after you have done sufficient experimenting: for instance, you could employ the assistance of someone with a fine sense of smell (like moi) and time it on a reliable stopwatch, thereby indirectly coming to knowledge which is given to people like me directly from God.
Add the onions to the olive oil and cook until they are a nice golden brown and are soft. Do not burn the onions. Do not undercook the onions. Taste them every so often to determine if they are a good (soft) consistency. After this add the garlic and cook for a few minutes. Again: do not burn the garlic or undercook the garlic. You don't need to do the taste test on the garlic, the garlic should be cooked after a minute or two. The important thing is not to burn the garlic. Do you hear me? Do not burn the garlic. If you burn either the onions or the garlic then you should start over. But do not tell anyone you had to start over because that is shameful.
While the olive oil is heating up and the onions are cooking (it should be three to four minutes, but will depend on your stove, natch) you must do something which may seem like a lot of work but is quite necessary. This is: after you finish washing the mushrooms, you need to go through them and remove the stems. Once you have done this, finely chop up the stems and add them to the pan after the garlic has finished cooking. Add some salt to bring out the moisture of the mushrooms. Let the mushrooms cook for a minute or two, until you can see they have relinquished their precious, precious fluids. The reason I do this is I have found that it adds a "mushroom base" to the sauce, making it taste more like mushrooms and also because it's similar to what one does when making a risotto. Also, you can just add the chopped up stems and not the rest of the mushrooms if people who will be eating this do not like the consistency of mushrooms but do like the flavor.
At this point you might need to deglaze the pan with some white wine. This is optional, though because most of whatever is stuck to the pan will come out once the tomato liquid is added.
Now add the tomato paste and stir around until it is evenly distributed.
Then we come to the cathartic part. Take the peeled tomatoes in your preferred hand and with your other hand acting as a shield so you do not unnecessarily filthy up your cooking space, crush the little fuckers until they bleed into your magnificent culinary hell, rip them apart as if they are the tendons and ligaments of your most hated enemy. It's less messy, believe it or not, than actually chopping them up once they've been peeled. It's also fun! Cooking should be all about fun; and pulverizing, crushing, chopping and generally acting incredibly violent towards what you are about to consume. This is the savagery of humanity, folks and if you're squeamish go to fucking Olive Garden and clog your little bourgeoisie hearts up with the fat of efficiency.
Then add the canned tomatoes, stir and reduce heat to a simmer.
If you can use all non-canned tomatoes, this is obviously preferred to canned. Pomi is good, however, because they come with no additives. The problem with canned tomatoes is that they have sugar and sodium added to them. This is not good. The reason why it is not good is that the cardinal rule of cooking is that the cook has to control his/her ingredients. You don't really know how much 8% sugar is, really and it's annoying to figure out. Tomatoes are expensive where I live, however, and that's why I pick up the canned when I have to. I didn't use any canned in the actual sauce I made today because the farmer's market is generally very cheap. If you are going to go pure and obviate the canned, then just get an additional pound and a half to two pounds of tomatoes.
As far as sugar goes: there is a legitimate use for it. It really does cut down on the acidity. However, if acidity doesn't bother you, if you are genetically superior or just, you know, haven't destroyed your stomach lining, you can eat raw tomatoes without it being a problem. If you're cooking for other people, add a tablespoon or so. If you are using canned tomatoes, there should be enough sugar in the canned tomatoes to balance it out. Also most tomato pastes have sugar in them as well. So again: experiment, push your tolerances to accurately determine where your boundaries are. Be like my dog, who ignored the initial warning beep of her electric collar and inched, slowly, up until the actual point where she got the little shock. In this way she determined that it was not the beep which meant the inevitable shock, but the black wire and the little white flags. Find your own black wires and little white flags, people. Write down their precise locations and your feelings regarding them if you are forgetful or high on cocaine a lot. It helps the cooking process immensely.
Finally, slice up the mushrooms, chop up your herbs and add them. If the sauce seems too thick, don't flip out, do not prostrate yourself on the kitchen floor and beseech the mercy of your God - He has better things to do, like answering the prayers of athletic squads and those unfortunate souls who have accidentally murdered pets left in their care. It's okay. If it's just a little thick, wait a bit and see if the excess moisture from the recently added mushrooms thins it out. Yes, do Nothing and leave it to Science and you will be Okay. If, like J. Robert Oppenheimer, your faith in Science betrays you and you are confronted with the unthinkable: a sauce that is as thick as the bile and regret towards a life of unfulfilled potential gathering in your throat each year, just add some water! That's a perfectly acceptable thing to do! Honest! But what if it swings back in the other direction and is too thin now? Again: there is no need to punch a wall, to throw pots and pans about the house and disturb the quiet weekend afternoon of your neighbors, who will think you are insane and bitter. No, all that you need do is add some breadcrumbs, or a bit more tomato paste if you have it, and all will be fine. Cooking, like Buddhism, is about balance - and unlike Buddhism, cooking is not a supplemental ideology of capitalism, which fraudulently placates your ethics and allows you to exist in our shallow, materialistic market society. On the contrary, bake a loaf of bread and you are getting back at the man; make your own pasta sauce and you essentially say "Fuck you," to an entire subset of the culinary industry devoted solely to the rape of Southern Italy - you will make a Neapolitan woman cry tears of joy at the strength of your conviction.
Finally, the sauce should cook for as long as possible really. The longer it cooks (on a simmer) the more the flavors combine and the better it will taste. The minimum time it should cook is an hour.
I would have taken pictures to make you all jealous that you don't live with me, but my digital camera is not charged and I can't find the thing to charge it with anyway, so whatever. Imagination!
Anyway, I decided to make a tomato sauce since that is relatively cheap, labor intensive (which is good) and creates a large bounty of deliciousness. I'm also making some stuff for tomorrow, but I've been meaning to post a recipe for a good tomato sauce. The techniques I use are passed down from my Italian friend's mom and my own innovations. Some things, like the addition of sugar and the use of canned tomatoes, are pretty contentious subjects and ones which are left up to personal discretion, but I address them. It's all behind the cut.
First, you're going to want to put on a shuffle of Rossini's overtures. This adds Authenticity to the whole process and besides is a great delight - both of these things are desirable.
The ingredients you will need are:
1 pound of tomatoes
1 28 oz can of crushed or pureed tomatoes (if you're local grocery store carries it, Pomi is worth the extra dollar.)
1 6 oz can of tomato paste
1 medium onion, diced
3-4 cloves of garlic, minced
1 pound of button mushrooms
olive oil
whatever herbs you like (basil, oregano, parsley, etc.)
Put the (non-canned) tomatoes into some water and put the heat on medium. While the water comes to temperature, begin dicing your onions and mincing your garlic. Monitor the tomatoes and after a several minutes or so they should begin to peel. Turn them over with a slotted spoon or whatever until they look peely enough for you to finish the job with your own hands - after, of course, they have cooled off.
Remove the tomatoes from the water and place on a plate to cool. While they are cooling, heat up your olive oil in a large saucepan. Determine if the olive oil is hot enough: use your sense of smell, if you have a good sense of smell, and find out if it smells much more like olive oil in the kitchen than it did before you added the olive oil to the pan. If you do not have a good sense of smell you can put your hand a few inches from the oil and judge its warmth. But if you have burnt the hell out of your hands - let's say you did not listen to me or you have no concept of chemistry and you tried to peel the tomatoes with your hands before they cooled - then you are completely fucked and should cry because you have ruined everything.
Wait. No, see I have to stop here. If you're going to be doing a lot of cooking, you need to work on your sense of smell. You can do this by extensive prayer and lying; the latter works only after you have done sufficient experimenting: for instance, you could employ the assistance of someone with a fine sense of smell (like moi) and time it on a reliable stopwatch, thereby indirectly coming to knowledge which is given to people like me directly from God.
Add the onions to the olive oil and cook until they are a nice golden brown and are soft. Do not burn the onions. Do not undercook the onions. Taste them every so often to determine if they are a good (soft) consistency. After this add the garlic and cook for a few minutes. Again: do not burn the garlic or undercook the garlic. You don't need to do the taste test on the garlic, the garlic should be cooked after a minute or two. The important thing is not to burn the garlic. Do you hear me? Do not burn the garlic. If you burn either the onions or the garlic then you should start over. But do not tell anyone you had to start over because that is shameful.
While the olive oil is heating up and the onions are cooking (it should be three to four minutes, but will depend on your stove, natch) you must do something which may seem like a lot of work but is quite necessary. This is: after you finish washing the mushrooms, you need to go through them and remove the stems. Once you have done this, finely chop up the stems and add them to the pan after the garlic has finished cooking. Add some salt to bring out the moisture of the mushrooms. Let the mushrooms cook for a minute or two, until you can see they have relinquished their precious, precious fluids. The reason I do this is I have found that it adds a "mushroom base" to the sauce, making it taste more like mushrooms and also because it's similar to what one does when making a risotto. Also, you can just add the chopped up stems and not the rest of the mushrooms if people who will be eating this do not like the consistency of mushrooms but do like the flavor.
At this point you might need to deglaze the pan with some white wine. This is optional, though because most of whatever is stuck to the pan will come out once the tomato liquid is added.
Now add the tomato paste and stir around until it is evenly distributed.
Then we come to the cathartic part. Take the peeled tomatoes in your preferred hand and with your other hand acting as a shield so you do not unnecessarily filthy up your cooking space, crush the little fuckers until they bleed into your magnificent culinary hell, rip them apart as if they are the tendons and ligaments of your most hated enemy. It's less messy, believe it or not, than actually chopping them up once they've been peeled. It's also fun! Cooking should be all about fun; and pulverizing, crushing, chopping and generally acting incredibly violent towards what you are about to consume. This is the savagery of humanity, folks and if you're squeamish go to fucking Olive Garden and clog your little bourgeoisie hearts up with the fat of efficiency.
Then add the canned tomatoes, stir and reduce heat to a simmer.
If you can use all non-canned tomatoes, this is obviously preferred to canned. Pomi is good, however, because they come with no additives. The problem with canned tomatoes is that they have sugar and sodium added to them. This is not good. The reason why it is not good is that the cardinal rule of cooking is that the cook has to control his/her ingredients. You don't really know how much 8% sugar is, really and it's annoying to figure out. Tomatoes are expensive where I live, however, and that's why I pick up the canned when I have to. I didn't use any canned in the actual sauce I made today because the farmer's market is generally very cheap. If you are going to go pure and obviate the canned, then just get an additional pound and a half to two pounds of tomatoes.
As far as sugar goes: there is a legitimate use for it. It really does cut down on the acidity. However, if acidity doesn't bother you, if you are genetically superior or just, you know, haven't destroyed your stomach lining, you can eat raw tomatoes without it being a problem. If you're cooking for other people, add a tablespoon or so. If you are using canned tomatoes, there should be enough sugar in the canned tomatoes to balance it out. Also most tomato pastes have sugar in them as well. So again: experiment, push your tolerances to accurately determine where your boundaries are. Be like my dog, who ignored the initial warning beep of her electric collar and inched, slowly, up until the actual point where she got the little shock. In this way she determined that it was not the beep which meant the inevitable shock, but the black wire and the little white flags. Find your own black wires and little white flags, people. Write down their precise locations and your feelings regarding them if you are forgetful or high on cocaine a lot. It helps the cooking process immensely.
Finally, slice up the mushrooms, chop up your herbs and add them. If the sauce seems too thick, don't flip out, do not prostrate yourself on the kitchen floor and beseech the mercy of your God - He has better things to do, like answering the prayers of athletic squads and those unfortunate souls who have accidentally murdered pets left in their care. It's okay. If it's just a little thick, wait a bit and see if the excess moisture from the recently added mushrooms thins it out. Yes, do Nothing and leave it to Science and you will be Okay. If, like J. Robert Oppenheimer, your faith in Science betrays you and you are confronted with the unthinkable: a sauce that is as thick as the bile and regret towards a life of unfulfilled potential gathering in your throat each year, just add some water! That's a perfectly acceptable thing to do! Honest! But what if it swings back in the other direction and is too thin now? Again: there is no need to punch a wall, to throw pots and pans about the house and disturb the quiet weekend afternoon of your neighbors, who will think you are insane and bitter. No, all that you need do is add some breadcrumbs, or a bit more tomato paste if you have it, and all will be fine. Cooking, like Buddhism, is about balance - and unlike Buddhism, cooking is not a supplemental ideology of capitalism, which fraudulently placates your ethics and allows you to exist in our shallow, materialistic market society. On the contrary, bake a loaf of bread and you are getting back at the man; make your own pasta sauce and you essentially say "Fuck you," to an entire subset of the culinary industry devoted solely to the rape of Southern Italy - you will make a Neapolitan woman cry tears of joy at the strength of your conviction.
Finally, the sauce should cook for as long as possible really. The longer it cooks (on a simmer) the more the flavors combine and the better it will taste. The minimum time it should cook is an hour.
I would have taken pictures to make you all jealous that you don't live with me, but my digital camera is not charged and I can't find the thing to charge it with anyway, so whatever. Imagination!