The Cooking Critic

Everyone knows you have to practice in order to demolish your opponents. The newly named Team “We Aim To Cheese” did just that (practice, no demolishing yet) one rainy Monday evening. Of the three grilled cheese categories at the Grilled Cheese Invitational (or GCI for short) hosted in Downtown Los Angeles on April 1, we are entering two. Categories are: standard grilled cheese, alternative grilled cheese and dessert grilled cheese. We fully intend to win the last two categories by virtue of our delicious sandwiches, but certainly the hilarious names we voted on will also assist us. The GCI, to my understanding, is one big party with stovetop stations for grilled cheese making, and you have to produce at least four cheesy sandwiches divided into fourths. When you finish grilling a grilled cheese, a little flag goes up, a runner comes to the table and the sandwich is distributed to the crowd to be eaten and judged. There’s also a cash bar, but I’m foggy on the rest of the details. Rest-assured, those of you dying to know more about the GCI, I’ll report back with clearer details once my team and I return victorious from said gathering.

Obviously, I can’t give too many details about our sandwiches or their names at this juncture since I’m sure competitors are trolling my blog in an attempt to learn our secrets and foil us. Instead I will provide you with a picture story of our evening with captions.

Here are the cooks (note Rob’s spiffy apron and look of suspicion:

and Christine’s amazing ability to change her eye color to match her top):

Here are some of the eaters and fellow teammates reacting to the grilled cheeses with shock:

and amazement:

Here Maggie lounges with a strawberry, contemplates team names and secretly hopes that someone will hang grapes over her head while she eats them at her leisure:

Here I will give the full name of the people in attendance, so if they are Googled, the Googler will be led to my blog: Rob Saccenti, Leslie Limerick, Jim Sutherland, Steve Hanna, Michael Zimmer, and Luke Godwin (who thinks he should get royalties for use of his name in this blog. When I told him no one else suggested such things, he said his name was worth far more than anyone else’s. He said it. It’s true.) Actually, that’s only about half the people in attendance. The others have already been mentioned by full name on this blog (or their last names are not known to me), so they can’t help me with Googlers. But so they won’t get mad at me, I’ll give their first names: Shahan, Maggie, Shayna, Stacey, Adam, and Brandon.

And here’s why other Grilled Cheese Invitational contestants should be fearful at the thought of competing against us:

Look at those beautiful, well-named, tasty sandwiches.

And another reason competitors should fear us? We have team aprons. That’s right. Team. Aprons. First the 3rd 2nd Annual Grilled Cheese Competition, next the world!

Corn Soup is not a chowder. And don’t call it a chowder. That’s like calling a “Christine,” “Kristin.” Two different words, two different connotations. I’ve actually asked around about chowders before (these are the sort of conversations people are forced to have with me), and I’ve never been able to come up with a clear definition for chowder. My own observations have led me to deduce chowders include a puréed potato to give them a denser consistency. Then I received Food Lover’s Companion (basically, the ultimate dictionary for foodies) as a gift, which does not confirm my made-up definition for chowder. Hmph. Here’s how Food Lover’s Companion describes chowder: “a thick, chunky seafood soup.” See, it’s already gotten itself in a hole because we’ve all heard of corn chowder, and corn chowder doesn’t have seafood in it. But later it says, “The term [chowder] is also used to describe any thick, rich soup containing chunks of food (for instance, corn chowder.)” And that seems really broad and sweeping to me.

This Corn Soup is more like a bisque because it has cream and flour for thickening. Here I shall describe this corn soup bisque: smooth, well-seasoned, complex, and rich without being too rich. I think this is a good description. Food Lover’s Companion describes bisques this way: “a thick, rich soup usually consisting of puréed seafood and cream.” Clearly, Food Lover’s Companion is in cahoots with the seafood industry. Tomato bisque doesn’t include seafood. Corn soup bisque doesn’t include seafood. At least they hedged themselves by using the word “usually” this time.

My family likes to call this “Cron Soup” because of a misspelled sign for corn we once saw in Ohio. I made my mother email me this recipe because I suddenly wanted it and don’t own the cookbook it came from. Thanks, Mom! I know what a pain typing up recipes can be. Lately, I feel like I spend half of my life typing up recipes. The other half is devoted to Karaoke.

Adjustments: Half and half for the light cream, and I just sprinkled a little bit of nutmeg in rather than use the full ¼ teaspoon. I know nutmeg in soups is all the rage right now, but I’m wary of this rage. For reheating, add a little milk or cream to thin it out if it overly thickens in the refrigerator. And pardon my picture. I accidentally caramelized the onions (it happens!), and I cut up the chives in a manner that might be best described as haphazard.

Assessment: You will be amazed at how easy yet tasty this soup is. You will be sad to learn the cookbook I got this from is out-of-print, yet you will be happy to hear you can buy a previously owned edition for $.52.

>> Buy Easy Cooking for Today by Pol Martin or Food Lover’s Companion by Sharon Tyler Herbst.

Blue cheese has a big personality. He’s a little obnoxious, truth be told, but he does liven up a salad. Still, he can be so overpowering that not everybody likes him. I’ve found many people so strongly opposed to blue cheese, that I actually crumble it up in a bowl and serve it on the side rather than sprinkling it in the serving bowl with the salad. That way the blue cheese haters can go about their business. Navigating a salad with blue cheese present when you’re trying to avoid him can be tricky, indeed.

It took me a while to warm up to blue cheese myself, but I like him now. Still, a hunk of blue cheese goes a long way, and I’m only going to eat so many salads. This leaves me trying to find other uses for this pungent dairy product. Spinach with Blue Cheese and Pasta is one.

Adjustments: I like spinach, so I add 3 handfuls of it instead of 2. I’d even consider 4 handfuls!

Assessment: Quick and satisfying, and a good way to use your blue cheese. I don’t think I would purchase the product specifically to make this dish, but I’ll happily make it when I already have some in the house. It’s a good, hearty, easy pasta meal to eat before a night out on the town. But it doesn’t reheat very well—the sauce tends to take the form of its former crumbly blue cheese self once placed in the fridge.

>>Buy Real Fast Food by Nigel Slater.

I’m supposed to like salads for a couple reasons. A) I’m a girl and girls like to be skinny. B) I live in Los Angeles and Angelenos like to be skinny. You would think this would produce strong salad longings deep within me, but I simply don’t gravitate toward them. I find most salads boring. That’s right salads of the world, BORING! If you were more interesting, I wouldn’t have to be so blunt and hurt your feelings like this. Not to say I haven’t met some really amazing salads before. Puran’s on Hillhurst makes an ahi tuna salad that I adore, and occasionally I’ll even find a salad recipe that has me saying mm-mmm out loud. But typically my response to a salad is: Why would I eat you, if I can eat something else?

Recently, I thought it would be a good idea to eat my Polenta Lasagna leftovers for lunch. As it turns out, this was not a good idea. Polenta Lasagna sat heavily in my stomach laughing loudly at the foolish notion that he was a lunch food. So when dinner came around, I wasn’t all that hungry, and Spinach Salad with Pears, Gorgonzola, and Walnuts was the only food I could imagine getting along with the polenta lasagna taking up way more than his fair share of space in my stomach.

Adjustments: For the dressing, since I didn’t have honey Dijon mustard, I used regular Dijon and real, live honey, and I had to play with the dressing quantities before I got it to my liking. Instead of walnuts, I used spiced pecans that I had on hand. And instead of Gorgonzola (a fancy blue cheese), I used regular blue cheese. And I threw caution to the wind and skipped the endive altogether. Don’t hesitate to substitute dried cranberries for the pears too.

Assessment: This version won’t have me singing the praises of salads in the streets or anything, but I found it tasty and enjoyed the combination of flavors and textures—it’s got everything: sweet, sharp, pungent, crisp, and crunchy.

Lasagna is one of the most overrated dishes that has ever existed in the history of mankind. This, I realize, is a big, bold statement, but I think I can say it with confidence. Despite the fact I’ve thought this for at least eight years now (ever since a particularly atrocious date that, no, I don’t believe has overly influenced my feelings regarding lasagna,) I still feel compelled to order it on occasion. In general, I prefer to order something new and intriguing, but sometimes the idea of cheese, red sauce and noodles proves too much, and I end up with a slab of lasagna in front of me. And then I remember I’m not that into lasagna, despite all the glorious cheese.

But all lasagnas aren’t created equal. My cousin, Wendy, for example, makes an excellent, particularly well-balanced lasagna that had me returning for seconds before others had finished getting their firsts. (Honestly, you should just stay out of my way when I’m hungry.) Since I had some polenta firming up in the fridge from an earlier recipe, I decided to try the Polenta Lasagna with Tomatoes and Peppers recipe that had always caught my eye in American Bistro, despite how stupidly long it was. I’m pretty sure that using Prego instead of making a homemade tomato and pepper sauce doesn’t count as a significant change that entitles me to name the dish my own, but I’m going to anyways: Christine’s Cheesy Polenta and Spinach Tower.

Adjustments: So I didn’t take the dental floss and slice the polenta down the middle like I was told to, and this is probably why my lasagna looked like the Leaning Tower of Pisa (or, rather, the Leaning Tower of Chees-a—hoo hoo hoo ha ha ha, man, I’m funny.) In the future, I will use dental floss, as instructed—at the very least, it probably makes for a much prettier presentation. Since I had plans to go out this evening, there was no way on God’s green earth that I was going to make a homemade red sauce (so I did not include that recipe here.) So Prego it was! Also, I didn’t follow the polenta instructions, which don’t vary much from recipe to recipe anyways, as far as I can tell. I used my already prepared polenta, which I made this way, though American Bistro’s version sounds good to me with their onions and their garlic. But honestly, I wouldn’t hesitate to use pre-made polenta with this, especially if I’m making it for just myself or perhaps one other person that I’m not overly concerned about impressing. There are so many other things going on with this dish, I can’t imagine anyone would notice. Except maybe those polenta experts you have over on occasion.

Assessment: I enjoyed myself more than I normally do when it comes to this dish, perhaps because I fulfilled both my mysterious desire for lasagna and my more understandable desire to try something new. The dish is very, very filling, yet the recipe writers were right that a light, fluffy filling of spinach and ricotta is a nice foil for the denser, richer polenta. And when you ignore half the directions on this particular recipe (by using pre-cooked polenta and tomato sauce from a jar,) it is, in fact, simple to prepare, even though they seem to be trying their hardest to convince you otherwise. Still, with assembly time and 30 minutes cooking in the oven, describing it as “relatively easy” does feel like a stretch. I assume when people think of “easy,” they’re thinking “nearly instant.” This dish is certainly not that.

I think Polenta is a little full of himself. Just because he has a better PR agent than grits doesn’t make him any better than other ground corn products. But I surprised myself the other day when I nearly spontaneously decided to make some polenta. I wanted something hearty and comforting. I never thought of polenta as comforting before, but here I am calling him up after ignoring him for so long. Polenta with Parmesan Cheese, I’m sorry. You have a lot of good qualities. No, I’m not just really bored right now. We can still be friends. (Relationships are so complicated.)

So Williams-Sonoma supplied the recipe for this one, and because Williams-Sonoma is sort of a fancypants, he recommended using regular polenta and stirring it for hours (okay, just 25 minutes, but that’s a long time!) I was not into this recommendation. I ignored Williams-Sonoma and decided to use instant polenta instead. I’m sure the real thing tastes better, but I had a complete meal in roughly 10 minutes, and that’s worth something too. (My polenta looks a little bit like an egg experiment gone awry, no?)

Adjustments: Initially, I cooked according to the instructions on the instant polenta box, then switched to Williams-Sonoma for the extras. And per usual, I substituted Parmesan with Asiago. I always return Asiago calls. He’s so dreamy.

Assessment: Satisfying, but it tasted a lot like grits to me, as it should since polenta and grits are essentially the same thing (corn!) It seemed a little strange eating asparagus with my grits…er, I mean polenta, but not in a bad way. I like the idea of adding mushrooms, as Williams-Sonoma suggests in another recipe. I wouldn’t be surprised if I ended up making this dish again. And look at the adorable wine glasses my landpeople/landcouple gave me. (What’s the plural of landlord when it involves two people of different genders? Anyone?)

The sick person’s soup series continues. Though clearly, I’m not all that sick. If I were, I’d be on the couch watching TV all day like any normal person instead of in the kitchen making a ridiculous amount of soups. Speaking of soup, here’s a good reason to make this one: you put wine in the chicken broth. Wine tastes good, so it makes your Spinach and Rice Soup taste good too. Bogle’s Sauvignon Blanc is a good not-expensive-but-stlll-nice-tasting dry white perfect for cooking (and sipping while you cook.) And here’s a solid endorsement for this soup: I have returned home from a long day and decided to make this dish last minute, and it was created in a completely reasonable amount of time with ingredients I usually have in the house (if you leave out the chick peas.)

Adjustments: No to chick peas! Actually, feel free to say yes to chick peas, but they turn this from a quick meal into an over two-hour long endeavor. So join me in my fight against chick peas! And vegetarians—you guys should use vegetable broth instead of chicken broth. (Sorry for the washed-out photo!)

Assessment: I’ve made this soup countless times, so clearly I like it. Good flavor. Suitable for a sick or well person.

When a person subsists on soup and ice cream alone, do you gain weight or lose? It’s an important questions, folks, and I’d like to answer it for you. I’ve been conducting this experiment and using myself as the guinea pig. The soups have been plentiful—just scroll down and see. The ice cream has come in pints and consisted of Hagen-Daaz Strawberry (so-so, I love their vanilla, but the corner market was out) and Ben & Jerry’s Mint Cookies and Cream (the best ice cream on earth.) Besides the soup and ice cream, a scale would be useful. I, sadly, don’t have one, so eyeing myself in the mirror will have to substitute. Hmmm, so, I look the same weight to me. My pants fit the same too. My conclusion: I’m the exact same weight. So I guess the ice cream and soup cancelled each other out. I should say I did exercise a bit—I wasn’t completely incapacitated. But my exercise consisted of walking three miles at a pace that may be best described as “leisurely,” although I eventually worked my way up to “nearly brisk” as I got less sick those last couple of  days.

Oh yeah, so the Chicken Soup with Celery and Lemon. It combines two of the best sick people ingredients ever: chicken broth and lemon juice. You know what else tastes good? Celery leaves. I’m serious. And I just discovered 1 part lemon juice to 2 parts honey is a soothing, homemade cough syrup! And it tastes far better than Robitussin. I have the whooping cough, by the way, or maybe TB, which Maggie claims I gave to her. Actually, I think I just have a cold, but I find drama is best when you’re sick. What do you have, if you don’t have people’s sympathy?

Adjustments: I put this in the “(Relatively) Easy” category despite some debate. It’s easy when you already have cooked chicken on hand, like I did, and you don’t have to cook it 45 minutes in the broth. Also, rather than making a bouquet garni, I just let the herbs float around in the broth completely unsupervised since I didn’t have any kitchen string on me. And, as always, unsalted butter was replaced by salted.

Assessment: Brothy, soothing, citrusy. Perfect for when you’re feeling under the weather, but I’m curious to see what I think of it on a well day.

There are few things in life more satisfying than a good dumpling. Actually, there are few things in life more satisfying than a mediocre dumpling for that matter. I make my dumplings with Bisquick, and I’m not afraid to admit it. They puff up nice and fluffy as you please, and I toss in a little parsley to throw people off the Bisquick scent. In fact, I bet you wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between my Bisquick dumplings and somebody else’s homemade dumplings. Actually, I’m sure some people could tell the difference, but I suspect those people aren’t reading my blog. Not now anyways. Someday they will. Some day THE WHOLE WORLD will be reading my blog. Mwah-ha-ha-ha-ha! And I will hold them in thrall with my ruminations on dumplings. (You are getting very sleepy. You like dumplings. Dumplings are your friend.)

So while the Better Homes New Cookbook provided the base for this Chicken Stew with Dumplings (they even recommended I use Bisquick, more or less), Cooking Light provided some ideas for additional flavor, so I’m citing them here. Cite your sources, people! Don’t plagiarize like my students like to do sometimes. Boo, plagiarism!

Adjustments: I sautéed fresh celery and onions and garlic instead of using frozen onions, frozen vegetables and garlic powder. Dill was my fresh herb of choice for this dish since I had some around. And add 2 tablespoons of sherry at the end for additional flavor.

Assessment: Not the most amazing Chicken ’n Dumplings I’ve ever made but good, and I felt very, very comforted. I make this dish differently every time, but I think my most successful rendition (and also the most time-consuming) took heavily from Emeril’s TV Dinners, which uses heavy cream, made-from-scratch dumplings and fresh jalapeños, among other ingredients—I hear he likes to kick things up a notch.

Patti Dixon, friend of my mother’s and all-round great lady, first introduced me to Tomato-Dill Soup. Tomato-Dill and I (as I call him now for short) hit it off right away. In fact, I was so intrigued by Tomato-Dill, that I nearly risked not meeting all the other delicious characters that were a part of this particular progressive dinner. I went back for thirds of this soup—no joke—and this was during the appetizer segment of the evening, so there was still a lot of food to go. Luckily, the servings were small, and I didn’t spoil my dinner. But at that moment I didn’t care. I was willing to throw out the window everything my mother ever told me about spoiling my appetite to be with Tomato-Dill. I felt that strongly.

A couple years later, Tomato-Dill and I are still on speaking terms but have never been able to recreate that same magic that was there on our first encounter. I blame myself. I’m easily distracted by other soups; I didn’t make an honest attempt to nurture my relationship with Tomato-Dill; and when I created the soup from scratch myself, it just didn’t taste as good as Patti’s, quite frankly.

I’m not sure what Patti does to her soups, but I suspect it involves witchcraft. My mother claims it involves sweet onions instead of brown or white. This could be the case too.

Adjustments: Since I had fresh thyme around, I used a tablespoon of it instead of the teaspoon of dried it called for. (I assume it’s calling for dried. When a recipe doesn’t specify, that’s usually the case, right?) But that’s the standard conversion: 1 tablespoon of fresh herbs equals 1 teaspoon of its dried counterpart. Also, I put in way more than 1 tsp of sugar. Forgot how much, but just do it to taste.

Assessment: This makes a lot of soup, and it’s a bisque, by the way. I thought about giving some to Adam, vegetarian and neighbor, but then it started raining, and I wasn’t about to walk down the street in the rain. Then I got sick and this led to the natural conclusion that I should hoard all the soup to myself and eat it for every meal, which I did. It might not have tasted as sublime as when Patti made it, but it still tasted good and felt excellent on a sore throat. Reunited at last!