Am I as Obsessive as Christopher Kimball? (Thai Pork Lettuce Wraps)

Oh, this man.

David is in Australia again and I am my usual basket case. If you've been reading for a few months, you already know what happened the last time David went to Australia without us.

Well, he's gone again for the week and I'm back to checking the rooms to make sure the ironing board in the closet that looks like it could be a serial killer is actually an ironing board. (This kind of thoroughness takes time and energy) I also have to check the door to make sure it's locked 30 times before I go to bed (kid you not) and I'm pretty busy fantasizing that every little noise in the night is actually a ghost, and that any minute the bed will shoot straight up to the ceiling and whirl around and around, and the cupboard doors will start opening and shutting by themselves.

I've also been watching the cats a lot lately because I hear that if they act squirrely it's because there is something poltergeisty in the house. They are my barometer. If they look calm, I'm calm. If they chase a piece of fuzz across the floor, I'm calling 911.

So, this post will be short because all this looking out for things that could hurt us is exhausting. I am much too busy worrying that the airline mechanics haven't had a proper nights sleep and they will screw up the mechanical inspection of my husband's plane. I check CNN on my phone all day to make sure there haven't been any plane crashes. Even as I write this I feel that even joking about it could send a negative vibe into the air and change the course of the future, so let's stop talking about plane crashes now, okay?...The plane will be fine.

Good plane. High flying plane. Plane of sturdy, well-maintained parts and excellent staying-in-the-air power. Breathe, Kim. Breathe


But there's more...Once this trip, I even had this elaborate fantasy trying to imagine how the girls and I would ever be able to live without David should he survive a plane crash, but come out of it with amnesia and not recognize us and by the end of the fantasy, after we had worked through our deep sadness, I had figured out like 20 different ways I would work selflessly, toiling like Mother Theresa to help him remember our faces and reclaim his life. Seriously, this all played out in my head.

See? Busy, busy.

So, I'm going to leave you the meal David requested for his last meal before he left for Australia. And even now, I hate calling it the "last meal" because well, bad vibes and all (and that made me remember that I haven't even had time to write you my theories about terrorist attacks and what could definitely happen with that), so I'm calling it, "The Get-Your-Butt-Home-in-One-Piece Thai Pork Lettuce Cups". That covers it all, doesn't it?

Now, these are from the most recent issue of "Cook's Illustrated" and I love them and so, I'm giving you their complete recipe here because they, too, are obsessive compulsive and since I did not try this recipe with 24 different cuts of pork, who am I to challenge Christopher Kimball on his own brand of crazy? Although his sounds ways more fun than mine.

I will concede that I made a few changes only because I made this on the fly and we live in Harlem and finding a head of bibb lettuce in Harlem is impossible. I used a beautiful leafy red lettuce and did the best I could. It all went down the same.

Leftovers & Next Day Lunch

Also, I suggest grinding up extra pork loin and keeping it uncooked for the next day and making extra rice. That way you can make pork fried rice for lunch. Splash a little fish sauce on the pork and mix a little shredded ginger in there with your hands. Throw some chopped onions and garlic in the wok when the oil is glistening hot. Add the pork breaking it into little pieces as you go. Get it nearly cooked through and add leftover cooked rice. Mix it all in together and scramble an egg scrambled in there. Salt, pepper, a handful of cilantro. Awesome Chinese lunch.

Another thing, about Cook's Illustrated - I suggest not buying the magazine and buying the online subscription. It is hard to remember which magazine in your den has the perfect pot roast recipe and holding onto old magazines is a space-swallower. But their website is great. It's $30-ish a year but you can search for recipes, product reviews and cooking methods as you need them. It's really a terrific site.

Here's the recipe. David loved these so much, he took what was left with him on the plane. Enjoy!


Thai Pork Lettuce Wraps (Or "The Get-Your-Butt-Home-in-One-Piece Thai Pork Lettuce Cups"

Serve 6 as an appetizer or 4 as a main course. Published September 1, 2009. From Cook's Illustrated.

From Cook's Illustrated: We prefer natural pork in this recipe. If using enhanced pork, skip the marinating in step 2 and reduce the amount of fish sauce to 2 tablespoons, adding it all in step 5. Don’t skip the toasted rice; it’s integral to the texture and flavor of the dish. Any style of white rice can be used. Toasted rice powder (kao kua) can also be found in many Asian markets. This dish can be served with sticky rice and steamed vegetables as an entrée. To save time, prepare the other ingredients while the pork is in the freezer.

INGREDIENTS

1 pork tenderloin (about 1 pound), trimmed of silver skin and fat, cut into 1-inch chunks (see note)
2 1/2 tablespoons fish sauce
1 tablespoon white rice (see note)
1/4 cup low-sodium chicken broth
2 medium shallots , peeled and sliced into thin rings (about 1/2 cup)
3 tablespoons juice from 2 limes
2 teaspoons sugar
1/4 teaspoon red pepper flakes
3 tablespoons roughly chopped fresh mint leaves
3 tablespoons roughly chopped fresh cilantro leaves
1 head Bibb lettuce , washed and dried, leaves separated and left whole

INSTRUCTIONS

1. Place pork chunks on large plate in single layer. Freeze meat until firm and starting to harden around edges but still pliable, 15 to 20 minutes.

2. Place half of meat in food processor and pulse until coarsely chopped, 5 to six 1-second pulses. Transfer ground meat to medium bowl and repeat with remaining chunks. Stir 1 tablespoon fish sauce into ground meat and marinate, refrigerated, 15 minutes.

3. Heat rice in small skillet over medium-high heat; cook, stirring constantly, until deep golden brown, about 5 minutes. Transfer to small bowl and cool 5 minutes. Grind rice with spice grinder, mini food processor, or mortar and pestle until it resembles fine meal, 10 to 30 seconds (you should have about 1 tablespoon rice powder).

4. Bring broth to simmer in 12-inch nonstick skillet over medium-high heat. Add pork and cook, stirring frequently, until about half of pork is no longer pink, about 2 minutes. Sprinkle 1 teaspoon rice powder over pork; continue to cook, stirring constantly, until remaining pork is no longer pink, 1 to 1½ minutes longer. Transfer pork to large bowl; let cool 10 minutes.

5. Add remaining 1½ tablespoons fish sauce, remaining 2 teaspoons rice powder, shallots, lime juice, sugar, red pepper flakes, mint, and cilantro to pork; toss to combine. Serve with lettuce leaves.

(Photo: I didn't take this picture and have no idea who did, otherwise I would've credited it. My wraps were horsed down before I could snap a picture. Sorry, total slacker this week.)

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My Sordid Confession (Served Up with Mario Batali's Cacciatore)

So, we are going out to play on the playground yesterday and Lucy really wanted to wear this dress that she loves because her father loves her in it. And she looks just beautiful in it. Really.

And this is great, except I knew she was just going to get it filthy and I was kind of hoping it wouldn't be in rags by the time she started school in September. Not to mention that I am, in fact the world's worst housekeeper and laundress, so I have no shot of getting out a big grease/ink/grass/propane/red wine/Kool Aid/blood/mud/you-name-it stain out of said dress.

That and - here's where I make a sordid confession - I have this little disorder that I have kept a kinda-secret (Okay, I have more than one disorder. Who am I trying to kid?). David knows about it and I've worked on it with my therapist, but other than that, this is not the kind of thing you brag about at industry functions and family reunions.

Then, I passed it on to my daughter and bang! - I have to deal with it. Right out there in the open. Parenting sucks that way. I really tried not to pass it on to her. I tried doing everything the opposite or reverse or backwards, but it must be encoded into her DNA, cause she's just like Mama.

We, Lucy and I, like to save things.

And by save things, I mean we like to get things brand new and then, like, never use them. That way they can always remain in their perfect, unfettered state and never be worn-down, sullied, bruised, creased, dirtied, folded, bent, or worked into any other unseemly man-handled condition. Oh yes, we like to use things, but only if they aren't totally special or we have a back-up of the special thing, a perfect replica waiting in a drawer in the wings, or if the special thing belongs to someone else. Then, we can have at it.


Don't get me wrong, I intend to use that one gorgeous, expensive, cool-looking Williams Sonoma pot holder. But when company comes. Or I cook a dinner for Stephen King. Or Gael Greene. Or when the Food Network people come to see me cook a demo for them. Or when pigs fly. But dammit, I'm going to use that awesome potholder someday. I'll just keep it right here for safe keeping until the perfect opportunity comes.

Except the perfect opportunity never comes. And the pot holder sort of molts and discolors from years of sitting alone in a drawer. And I continue to use my cheap ugly pot holders.

This strategy has worked similarly for Lucy. At Easter, she and Edie got these big chocolate Easter bunnies in their baskets. Edie, glutton that she is (like David, of course), sat right down and power-chowed that Easter Bunny. By 9:30 in the morning that bunny was dust. Not one ounce of hesitation.

Lucy, on the other hand, held the package in her hands. Admired the beautiful box. Opened the cover just a bit to peek in at the beautiful chocolate bunny. She held it. Stroked it. Made it sing. Then, when she thought the warm room might actually make the bunny melt, she demanded that I put it in the freezer immediately.

Every day, I'd say to her, "Lucy, don't you want to eat some of your bunny?" And she would say, "No, I want to save it."

Little did she know that every night after she had gone to sleep, her father would open the freezer and snap off a piece of ear. A nose. A tiny foot. Within a week, David had eaten the entire bunny. And Lucy had forgotten all about it, never having tasted a bit of it.

In this house, Edie and David make out the best. Their motto: you snooze, you lose. They are unapologetic.

So, I've been making an effort to encourage Lucy to just use things. Trying to explain to her that the world is full of plenty, not scarcity. That there will be more Hello Kitty stickers after all the Hello Kitty Stickers in her drawer get used. That things are there to be used, not be attached to. That what is important is us, our love, our lives, our health, our joy, our time together. The things, they come and go.

And I'm explaining it to myself, as well, that there are more pot holders in this world, that perfection is not important, that enjoying things and people are, that holding onto things prevents me from embracing new things, that this is not the legacy I want to pass on to my girls. I hear all of it in my head and for the most part, it has been working. I'm using the potholder. And Lucy has been admiring less and digging in and using things more.

But occasionally, we slip into our old ways. Yesterday when I saw Lucy wearing the new dress she loves so much, I faltered. I wanted her to save that dress, keep it clean and new and perfect for that perfect up-coming occasion because as David says full of sarcasm, "You're afraid we won't be able to buy another $8 dress from Target, which is ridiculous."

Okay, I know. I'm an idiot.

But I thought I had her. Lucy was considering my arguments and my logic and considering taking off the new dress and swapping it for the older one I was holding in my hand. I had her thinking about it.

And then she put her hand up to stop me, like she was Diana Ross or something (Stop! In the name of love, before you break my heart...) and said in the most assured voice I've ever heard come out of her little body, "Mommy, you worry about yourself and I'll worry about me."

She wore the dress. The grasshopper surpasses her teacher.

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I may have forgotten and given you a chicken cacciatore recipe in the past few months, but this one is my take on Mario Batali's recipe. I really like it. Wholesome. Comforting. It's lovely. You should try it. And the sauce is also very good and very simple, although I prefer mine, because well, it's mine. (I also like this old post. So, it's worth a look-back.)



Pollo alla Cacciatora
Serves 4 people and a couple kids

2 cloves garlic, minced
1 branch rosemary, leaves only, minced
salt and freshly ground black pepper
1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil
one 3-pound chicken, cut into 8 serving pieces, rinsed and patted dry (or just the pieces you like, breasts and legs work just fine)
2 large yellow onions, coarsely chopped
1 pound portobella mushrooms, stems removed, cut into 1-inch cubes
4 ounces pancetta, cut into 1/2 inch dice
4 ribs celery, cut into 1 inch pieces
2 cups Basic Tomato Sauce (recipe below)
1 cup dry white wine
1 cup chicken stock
pinch of sugar
pinch of hot red pepper flakes

Night before:

In a large bowl, combine the garlic, rosemary, salt and pepper to taste, and add enough olive oil to make a somewhat dry paste (3 to 4 tablespoons). Add the chicken and rub the paste evenly over the pieces of chicken. Cover and refrigerate.

Next morning:

In a dutch oven, heat 1/4 cup olive oil over high heat until smoking. Brush the excess rub from the bird, and sear the chicken pieces, in batches if necessary, until browned on all sides. Transfer to a plate lined with paper towels. Place in fridge. Feel good your dinner for tonight is nearly prepped.

About 50 minutes before you want to eat:

Take chicken out of fridge. Bring to room temperature. Add the onions, mushrooms, pancetta, and celery to a stock pot and cook until the onions are golden brown and the pancetta has rendered its fat, about 8 minutes. Drain off the excess oil, then add the tomato sauce (use this recipe below from Mario Batali or this one, The Yummy Mummy's "Never Buy A jar Again" Marinara, or use the stuff from a jar, but please don't ever tell me about it. My head might explode) and wine, stirring with a wooden spoon to dislodge the browned bits from the bottom of the pot. Add the stock, sugar, and red pepper flakes and bring to a boil.

Put chicken to the pot, cover, and cook for 20 minutes. Uncover and cool until cooked through, about 15 to 20 minutes more. Transfer the chicken to a festive platter, top with the sauce, and serve.



Mario Batali's Basic Tomato Sauce
From Molto Italiano

1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
1 Spanish onion, cut into 1/4 inch dice
4 cloves of garlic, thinly sliced
3 tablespoons chopped fresh thyme
1/2 medium carrot, finely shredded
two 28-ounce cans whole tomatoes
salt

1. In a 3-quart saucepan, heat the olive oil over medium heat. Add the onion and garlic and cook until soft and light golden brown, 8 to 10 minutes. Add the thyme and carrot and cook until the carrot is soft, about 5 minutes.

2. Add the tomatoes, with their juice, and bring to a boil, stirring often. Lower the heat and simmer until as thick as hot cereal, about 30 minutes. Season with salt. This sauce can be refrigerated for up to 1 week or frozen for 6 months.

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Don't Mess with Mama (Or How Roasted Tomatoes Make Everything Better)

So, this was the kind of day I had yesterday:

There was only one plastic case that holds all the princess toys. This was a problem because Edie wanted one and Lucy wanted one. So, I got creative. I explained to them calmly that we only had one princess case, but that I could find another for Edie that was just as good. This was just fine with Lucy who was happy to have full ownership of the princess case.

That is until I procured a plastic bag from a fancy pet store with a big paw print on the side. Well, that was great for Edie who set about loading all her princess supplies into the very cool paw bag. But Lucy cried and demanded I find her a paw bag. But of course I only had one.

So, I got creative again. I went to the gift wrapping bin that I hide under the bed and found a gift bag with a garden of flowers all over it. Lucy likes flowers. I knew I was in.

Tears dried immediately. Lucy was elated. But, oh yeah, this sucked for Edie who was left with the crappy plastic paw bag. And the water works began. And not just water. There was wailing, high-pitched, crazy-ass, someone-call-social-services-a-child-is-being-misused wailing.


That is until I found, in the bin, a bag with a cat on it and knowing Edie loved cats - like, lurves the cats - I proudly raised it up so Edie could see it. And she beamed from ear to ear. Beamed, I tell you.

I was the Goddess of all Mothers. Healer of the world. Mender of disputes. I was Mother Theresa, only fatter, less wrinkly and more fertile. And liking sex a whole lot more.

And Lucy saw the cat bag and all its awesomeness and then, looked down on her own dilapidated, sorry excuse for a garden, flower bag, that I had the audacity to give her, and fell into a crumpled heap on the floor pointing to the great and awesome cat bag and mouthing the words between gulps of air.

"I...w-w-w-want...c-c-c-cat...bag...waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa."

And this is why mothers often feel compelled to drink vodka at 10 am.

So, I picked them both up - and they were both wailing by this time and had thrown their bags to the floor in disgust and horror - and I carried them to the sofa in the living room and looked into their sad, pathetic, bagless eyes and said in the most compassionate voice I could muster: "I love you. You are good girls. But you're driving me bat shit crazy. If you don't pick a bag and like it, we'll stop everything and I will...WASH. YOUR. HAIR.

They were panicked. Wide-eyed. They stopped crying. The room turned cold and silent. God, how they fear the clean. I freaked 'em out.

"That's right. I'll wash your hair." I say to them. I am bolstered. Empowered. The control has changed hands. They are wondering why their mother had turned on them. Years from now, they will discuss this moment in therapy.

"And I'll use conditioner. We may have to rinse TWICE."

"Um, we don't want to play with bags anymore." Lucy says definitively and Edie nods in agreement. They both slide off the couch, happy to get away from me.

And I, my friends, do "The Naked Dance of Glory" around the living room and celebrate that the balance of power has been restored. And I still have the magic. The mojo. The bling. I can do anything.

Bring it on, toddlers of the world. You are no match for me. Hear me roar! HAAAAA!

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Okay, this is exactly the dish you need after securing enough paw bags to keep every one of your kids freakin' blissed out.

This is actually two separate recipes I adapted from the August Gourmet. Separately, they are nice. Together, they are insane. This was devoured at Edie's birthday party by crazy toddlers and adults alike. It also has the distinction of being vegan, if you have a vegan guest coming to your next gathering, this will satisfy them. But really, after a crazy day with the kids, you'll want to just eat the whole bowl of these things by yourself. With a box of wine.

The first is a recipe is for Garlic-Oregano Pita Bread, which is basically just a grilled pita drizzled with warmed olive oil that has been infused with garlic and oregano. And the second is slow roasted tomatoes that have been drizzled with olive oil and flecks of garlic and roasted in the oven on very low heat for 8 hours.

Cut the pita into triangles and serve on a platter next to a bowl of the roasted tomatoes and let people scoop it up themselves. Or make little pizzas. Whatever, but both take little active kitchen time and yield bold results.

Here they are:

Slow Roasted Tomatoes

Yield: Serves 4 to 6
Active time: 15 mins
Total time: 6 to 8 hr

Ingredients

* 4 pounds tomatoes, in fat wedges
* 6 garlic cloves, minced
* 5 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil


Preparation

Preheat oven to 200°F.

Put tomatoes, cut sides up, in 2 large shallow baking pans. Combine garlic and oil and spoon over tomatoes. Season tomatoes with salt and pepper and roast in oven 6 to 8 hours (tomatoes will be reduced in size but will retain their shape). They will also get loose and light aromatic sauce will pool around the soft tomatoes. It will be just the right consistency to lop up all the goodness with a thick pita round.

Cooks' notes 1: Roasted tomatoes keep in an airtight container, chilled, 2 weeks. Bring to room temperature before using. They are better on day 2.

Cooks notes 2: I started roasting these the night before for 4 hours. Then, I covered them and put them in the fridge and popped them in the oven 4 hours before I needed them. Came out perfectly and all the sitting around over night, really set in the flavor.



Garlic-Oregano Grilled Pita Bread

Yield: Makes 6 servings
Active time: 20 min
Total time: 30 min

Ingredients

* 3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
* 2 garlic cloves, smashed
* 2 tablespoons finely chopped oregano
* 6 (6-to 8-inch) pocketless pita bread rounds
* Kosher salt to taste

Preparation

Heat oil in a small heavy skillet over medium heat until it shimmers. Cook garlic, turning once, until pale golden, about 1 minute. Discard garlic and remove skillet from heat, then stir in oregano.

Prepare grill for direct-heat cooking over medium-hot charcoal. I used a cast iron fry pan on a medium-high flame indoors.

Grill pitas, 2 or 3 at a time, covered only if using a gas grill, turning once, until grill marks appear, about 2 minutes total per batch. Transfer to a cutting board and cut into wedges. Put pitas on a platter and drizzle garlic-oregano oil over them. Be generous. It's just fine if it's a little sloppy in the bottom of the dish, people will be soaking it up with pitas before you know it. They are scrumptious. Sprinkle with salt.

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