of crock pots and childhood

I've been enjoying my crock pots a lot lately. Possibly the best part for me is having hot, moist, long-cooking sorts of meals that take only minutes of my attention.

I love, really love, hanging out in the kitchen and spending all day on a sauce. I truly do. But I absolutely, positively do not enjoy coming home tired and hungry and grumpy after a day of work and hoping for a creative impulse. I'm not going to find creativity then not matter how hard I look. So instead, especially in winter, I try to keep something simmering and ready. Something that satisfies on all sorts of levels. Winter is serious comfort food time.

My favorite food memories are almost all of Syrian or Lebanese meals, the food my grandmother cooked (and my mother, though mom was always a southern girl at heart.) I don't make many of these dishes anymore, unfortunately. Many, if not most, use grains as a mainstay and gluten is abundant. Still,  I long for those flavors.

 One of my favorites was a long, slow cooked dish we simply referred to as green beans and rice. It started with ground lamb or beef (most often beef during my childhood years due to relative costs) that we browned with chopped onions, salt, and pepper. Next we added lots of green beans, fresh or frozen, and a can or two of tomato sauce and an equal amount of water. This simmered, covered for hours and hours and hours. Seriously. The green beans almost, but not quite, melted into the sauce. This was then served over mounds of rice, first browned in butter (probably margarine when I was a child) and steamed. I loved it, still do to this day, though when cooking in my own kitchen I made it with diced lamb or beef more often than ground. These days, of course, I don't eat rice and I also can handle only the tiniest amount of tomato. In reality, I should probably stay as far away from any tomato as I possibly can, but every once-in-awhile I use a little. Just a little. Still, that means no tomato sauce at all, since it's pretty darned concentrated.

A few tomatoes in a large pot of food can add the flavor without so much tomato.

While trying to find a good lazy-day plan for a leg of lamb from Lava Lake Lamb, I inadvertently discovered an easy dish that is becoming one of my favorites. I love their lamb, and while I was not in the frame of mind for hours in the kitchen, I was sure as heck not going to waste that lamb. I decided to put the lamb in the crock pot and hope for the best. Then those green bean thoughts started dancing in my head. What if I put a couple of pounds of green beans in the bottom and layered the other ingredients? Now, when I say layer, I mean toss in randomly for the most part. They just end up in natural layers. I used what I had. Not wanting to chop an onion, seriously I was feeling that lazy, I used frozen pearl onions. I grabbed 3 small Roma tomatoes from the freezer and tossed them on top. Then I plopped the lamb on top of the veggies. I figured with that many watery vegetables, I would not need to add any more moisture. Good call, since there was plenty of broth produced without the addition of liquid.

What a delightful surprise. It was far better than I ever expected. The flavors were wonderful and even reminded me a bit of stuffed grape leaves, another childhood favorite. I have made this dish since, evening starting with a piece of frozen meat. I did mention the lazy part, right? It's virtually foolproof and not time-sensitive. It can cook 6 hours or 10 without issue.

I still love to spend hours in the kitchen when I have hours to spend, but it is utterly delightful to come home to dinner that's hot and ready and a house that smells like childhood.

foods from my childhood

I've loved cooking and preparing food all my conscious life, as I know I've mentioned often.

Some, many really, of the foods I ate as a child will never be in my kitchen again. Some by choice, some by necessity, some simply don't seem like food anymore. But so many are still part of everything I enjoy about cooking and serving good food. I love to cook for friends and family, the notorious tapioca incident aside; it feels like a really intimate, loving act. Mostly these days, I'm cooking for one or two, plus Coco, of course. We still have dinner parties, guests for wine and munchies, and big holiday dinners, but the day-in, day-out kitchen activity is on a very small scale. Even so, sometimes the sight or smell, even the thought, of a specific food from my childhood takes me on a daydreaming journey and transforms our meals.

This morning was one of those times. My plan was to make a quick breakfast while GK took Coco for her morning walk. I was thinking simple scrambled eggs with avocado on the side for me and hash brown-like potatoes for him. While pulling eggs from the refrigerator, I noticed the avocados from last week's farm delivery had ripened and decided to use one of them instead of those in the fridge. So far, nothing exciting, but as I picked up the avocado, a fuerte, I was swept back to my childhood. My mom never used California's Hass avocados. I think she thought they were ugly or something. If we had avocados in the house, they were big, beautiful, smooth-skinned, green fuertes. And they always and only went into salad. In our house salad only meant one thing: iceberg lettuce, diced tomato, minced onion, olive oil, salt, dried mint, and avocado on very rare occasions. That was the only salad I knew of, other than tabbouleh, which was for special occasions only. I don't remember when I found out about salad dressings. I do remember they seemed foreign and I was smitten with them.

Still, I digress. As I thought of the only avocados I knew and the only salad I knew, my mind naturally (for me anyway) ended up with the only omelet I knew. At our house, the word omelet meant only one thing. Always. Eggs and milk, beaten with a fork and seasoned with salt, a tiny bit of pepper, and dried mint. We always had mint, lots of mint, growing in the yard. My mother would dry a big batch every couple of years and run it through her Foley food mill. There was never a time that we were without dried mint, a habit that I took into adulthood with me.

So the scrambled egg plan gave way to omelets. Not the omelets of my childhood, but mushroom and avocado for GK and shrimp and mushroom for me. We had exactly 3 shrimp (from US Wellness Meats) leftover from last night's visit with Erika and Kristen. It felt silly saving them, but I was not about to throw them away. Three was a perfect number. After I chopped them into large chunks, every bite had a taste of the garlicky shrimp. And right next to my omelet sat one half of a large fuerte avocado, a reminder of childhood. Though in my childhood, half an avocado would have made a salad for six. No way would it ever have been a side dish for one person's breakfast.