ingestibles

For the past few weeks, we’ve developed a Sunday tradition of pumpkin beer imbibed in bed sometime between 10 am and 3 pm. This past Sunday broke our streak, as I couldn’t find any pumpkin beer at the Fairway but was intrigued by “The Saint” by Crispin, a hard apple cider. “Artisanal” and “natural” with Belgian Trappist yeasts (ooooooh) and organic maple syrup (aaahhhh), I was prepared to be impressed.

After his first sip, my boyfriend made a face that let me know I’d be finishing his glass. I swished mine around in my mouth for a few seconds before pinpointing exactly what it reminded me of: watered-down glasses of daycare apple juice, thin and sweet and cloudy yellow. Seeing as I’m still head over heels about everything that reminds me of back-to-school season, this cider was like a comforting reminder that it is October, on an eighty-five degree day in New York when I wished I was wearing wool tights instead of cutoff overalls. Fans of darker ciders with a stronger spice flavor and more carbonation should probably stick to Woodchuck, or whatever you drink, but I had no qualms happily finishing all 22 ounces of this. If only it had been in a juice box with a bendy straw.

Pumpkin blondies notwithstanding, this was the first pumpkin cake of the season, made on a whim after a healthy vegetarian tofu dinner and for no occasion in particular, although we did end up taking the remaining third of it (after putting away 2/3 ourselves in 24 hours. yep. that’s right.) to my boyfriend’s parents’ house for pre-Yom Kippur dinner last night. I have two go-to pumpkin cake recipes as holdovers from last fall: this one and the one inscribed on the back of the Trader’s Joe’s Pumpkin Bread and Muffin Mix box, doctored with extra spices and TJ’s pumpkin butter. This pumpkin cake started with the Trader Joe’s box, but instead of two eggs, oil and water, I added a whole can of pumpkin, about a cup of milk, and tons of cinnamon, nutmeg and clove. Then I made streusel topping, enough for a very generous layer on top of the batter, with crumbled graham crackers, butter, brown sugar and more cinnamon.

I still had some leftover butterscotch chips from the blondies, and had been thinking about mixing them into the batter when my boyfriend, whose cooking advice generally comes from what-seems-like-it-might-work rather than experience, suggested making butterscotch sauce to go with the cake. “Put some butter in it, too!” he directed, “and scotch!” So I’m pouring a half-shot of Johnnie Walker Black Label into the mixture of melted butterscotch chips and milk I’m stirring in a saucepan on the stove when it occurs to me to ask. “Hey, is there actually scotch in butterscotch?”

“No idea,” he says. (turns out butterscotch is traditionally the alchemy of butter and brown sugar. According to Wikipedia, “Food historians have several theories regarding the name and origin of this confectionery, but none are conclusive. One explanation is the meaning “to cut or score” for the word “scotch”, as the confection must be cut into pieces, or “scotched”, before hardening^. It is also possible that the “scotch” part of its name was derived from the word “scorch”.)

Here’s my super professional chef pro tip: it is definitely a really good idea to assume flavors go together if you think an ingredient is part of the name for another ingredient. Definitely always do this. Or maybe just with anything and scotch, because this butterscotch sauce was out of this world and I literally was drinking it by the spoonful.

Don’t get me wrong, I adore tofu. Really, I do. I like it in stir-frys. I like it crispy and pan-fried in olive oil. I like it instead of ricotta in my lasagna recipe. And I like it - um, wait. Those are all of the things I ever do with tofu. For someone who was vegan for over a year, my lack of tofumagination is kind of depressing. So today, I did something I sort of rarely do for a regular weeknight dinner - I actually sought out a recipe! I landed on Katie and Leeanne Chin’s Braised Stuffed Tofu, which looked perfect except for the fact that I A) didn’t have Sichuan cabbage, mushrooms, cornstarch, bok choy, or oyster sauce and B) was totally skeptical of the proposition that I could panfry a delicate stuffing-filled tofu square on both sides without it sticking to the pan, imploding into a goopy mess, or setting off my fire alarm (or all of the above). So I improvised. 

Stuffed tofu squares:

• 1 block firm tofu
• 2 frozen veggie burgers of your choice (or half a baked potato and some curry powder, or whatever you think will be yummy)
• 1/4 cup frozen peas
• 1/4 cup frozen spinach
• about 4 tbsp olive oil
• about 4 tbsp soy sauce, tamari or namashoyu

1. Cut the tofu into twelve equal-sized squares and dry them as best you can with a cloth (don’t use paper towels, you’ll go through a whole roll).
2. Carefully scoop out a small spoonful of tofu from the middle of each square - don’t scoop all the way through to the other side, and leave enough of a border that the squares remain sturdy. Douse the empty squares with soy sauce.
3. Cook the veggie burgers, frozen vegetables and scooped-out tofu innards in a saucepan until cooked through. Fill each tofu square with a spoonful of the mixture.
4. Heat the olive oil in a large wok or skillet. Place the squares in the wok and cook until at least the bottoms are panfried. If you’re brave, try flipping them. If you’re me, cover with a lid to steam the tops.

Oven fries:

• 1 large russet potato
• about 4 tbsp olive oil
• salt, pepper, garlic powder and cayenne
• KETCHUP

1. Wash the potato and slice it up into equal-sized slivers. Toss them in a bowl with salt, pepper, garlic powder and cayenne (as much as you’re into). Place fries in a single layer on a foil-lined baking sheet or dish and bake at 400 degrees for about an hour, depending on how crispy you like them.
2. Serve with SO MUCH KETCHUP. MORE. MORE THAN THAT.

Even though the weather outside is still persistently not autumnal enough, I’m forging ahead anyway with my knitted wool tights and hot ginger tea and legwarmers and lace-up boots and new Neon Indian album and oversized sweaters and hearty, heavy one-pot meals that are best eaten curled up on the sofa in aforementioned legwarmers.

Back-to-school season changes Sundays, giving them a bittersweetness that everyone remembers from being small and clinging desperately to each of those last weekend hours that belong solely, wholly to you. We have Sunday rituals that consist of the fleamarket and grocery shopping, brunch and a long walk and a lot of sitting around reading and talking about how sometime, maybe, later, some laundry ought to get done. I felt like cooking something that would take a long time but not much effort, and since our new oven doesn’t get installed until tomorrow, it had to be be a stovetop project. I wanted a meat dish that would end up braised and fork-tender, falling apart at each bite. This chicken is fantastic, and I’m sure it’ll be even better for lunch tomorrow. The best kind of time invested on a Sunday - the kind that makes the following Monday substantially better in return.

Stovetop slow-cooked barbecue chicken:

• 2 pounds (give or take) boneless, skinless chicken breasts
• 12 oz beer (Trader Joe’s Simpler Times, here)
• 18 oz barbecue sauce, homemade or your favorite (This was Trader Joe’s Kansas City Style, which is sweet & smoky and has a super-rich, smooth texture that the dish relies on.)
• 1 red onion
• black pepper, garlic powder and cayenne to taste

1. Sear the chicken breasts in an empty nonstick stock pot or Dutch oven. 
2. Add the barbecue sauce and beer.
3. Slice the onion thinly and add it raw to the pot, along with the spices. 
4. Bring to a boil, then cover and simmer for at least two to four hours. Stir often enough to keep the pot’s contents from starting to stick to the bottom, using a spatula or fork to help the shredding process along. 
5. Serve on sandwiches, or with baked potatoes, or with corn on the cob. We had ours with big salads and homemade chips.

I don’t understand the conception that French toast is difficult to make. As someone who struggles to achieve perfect pancakes and doesn’t own a wafflemaker, French toast is my standard special-occasion breakfast to impress. Even - or perhaps especially - on occasions when a slightly hungover me is the only one that needs impressing.

Also, HAPPY OCTOBER! Did you know that it’s my favorite month?! And it’s my birthday month, so this was basically a pre-pre-birthday breakfast. I had it with a tall glass of milk rather than with the namesake beverage, but I’m sure if your threshold for pumpkin is as high as mine it’d be delish that way too.

Pumpkin spice French toast:

• 3 slices challah, a day or two old
• 1 large egg
• 1 apple
• 1/2 cup milk
• honey, cinnamon, and nutmeg
• 1 tbsp + 1 tsp butter
• optional toppings: ice cream, whipped cream, more honey, and/or maple syrup

1. Dice the apple finely and add it to a saucepan with a teaspoon of butter, a squirt of honey, and cinnamon & nutmeg to taste. Cover pan with a lid and cook, stirring every so often, for 5-10 minutes, until apples are softened to your liking.
2. In the meantime, beat together the egg, milk, more honey, cinnamon, and nutmeg. Dredge challah slices in the mixture for about a minute.
3. Heat 1 tbsp butter in a frying pan. Place french toast slices in the pan and cook until browned on the outside, about 2-3 minutes per side. Some people put their French toast in the oven for a few minutes after this part. I don’t because A) My oven is broken, B) I’m not ultra-paranoid about raw eggs because I buy good-quality organic ones and have a very strong stomach and C) I love love love when French toast is all moist and custardy on the inside. It’s your call.
4. Plate French toast, add cooked apples, and top with whipped cream or ice cream - I used Trader Joe’s pumpkin ice cream, which we (okay, pretty much just I) have gone through a quart of this week.