"comfortfood" news and stories

As much as I adore my job, I tend to get the Sunday evening blues and have found as of late that labor-intensive cooking projects prove to be wonderfully soothing. It might be a bread knead, a painstakingly crimped lard crust pie, or, as it's manifested for the second week in a row, a unexpectedly soul-stirring risotto. Emphasis is on the "stirring" part, I assure you, as two times now, I've darned near sprained a forearm muscle with the non-stop drag of the wooden spoon through the ever-thickening starch. It's worth it, though -- the constant, meditative motion -- when it suddenly, palpably, audibly even, transforms the individual rice grains into a sumptuous, silken mass. It's the sort of culinary alchemy that transforms me from a solitary kitchen wretch into someone who suddenly wants to feed everyone she's ever met.

Last week's Acorn Squash Risotto from Mario Batali's Molto Italiano cookbook was a rousing success with my husband, as evidenced by this habitual leftover-snubber's willingness to dig back in on subsequent weeknights. This week's pulled pork variation, made on a whim, was a hearty treat tonight, and I've got a sneaking suspicion the flavors will meld well over the next few days.

Try for yourself. My Pulled Pork Risotto recipe is after the jump, and if you've got any soothing cooking rituals you'd like to share, I'd be more than grateful to hear about 'em.

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• Recipes: Freddie's Bang-Bang Chicken, Peanut Noodles, Chicken and Pork Stew with Plantains and Potatoes, Jamie Oliver's Lamb Tartare, and Tortilla Espanola
• Wine: Go green with biodynamic wine and Nouveau Beaujolais time in Toronto.
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Last night, I taught my friend Shay how to poach chicken breasts. She's going through a tough time at work, is coming down with the newest cold on the market, and couldn't bear the idea of cooking for herself. Food is harder for her than it is for most, as she's got some food allergies that preclude simply calling out for some Egg Drop soup from the local Chinese place. But she can eat chicken and so we poached.

We brought a pot of water to a boil and added salt, pepper, a squeeze of lemon juice, a bit of olive oil and a few herbs from the small patch in the yard (if you don't have any fresh herbs, that's okay. A cracked clove of garlic is also be a nice addition to the poaching liquid). When the water was rolling, we dropped the chicken breasts in. I looked at her and said, "Now we wait about ten minutes." She said with surprise, "That's it?" I replied, "Yep, that's it."

There is so much you can do with some poached chicken. You can shred it and, with the addition of a little mayo and spices, turn it into a simple chicken salad. You can cool it down, slice it, and eat it on toast. You can dice it, flavor up the poaching liquid a bit, add it back and have a simple little soup. Or, as my mom likes to you, you can also boil up a potato and eat it with the chicken, salting each bite as you go. The thing to remember about poached chicken is that once you've got the water boiling, most of the work is already done. After a long day, when all you need is a comforting, protein-packed meal before you tumble into bed, remember poached chicken.

After a day of travel, Scott and I got home to our apartment last night just before 1 am. The changing time zones and the hours spent locked in a fast-moving metal tube had us totally thrown off and we were both ravenous when we walked in the door. Getting to bed was high on my mind, but I knew that we both needed to eat something or sleep would be impossible.

Opening the fridge, I saw that I had done a good job of emptying it out prior to the trip. Thankfully though, I had had the good sense to leave behind half a done eggs and the tail end of a loaf of bread. Pulling out a cereal bowl and a small frying pan, I quickly beat the eggs and poured them out into the pan. I shoved the bread bag in Scott's direction and said, "Toast, please." I stood at the stove, barely conscious, stirring the eggs with a silicone spatula. As I moved the eggs around the pan, I realized that it had been a week since I cooked a thing, a rare occasion in my life.

Soon enough, the toast popped and the eggs were done. We sat at the table for a few moments, eating eggs in companionable silence. It was a meal that took no more than 15 minutes from conception to completion and yet it was still warm, filling and lovely welcome home.

What do you take when you have minor pain? Asprin? Tylenol? Advil? According to new research, all you need to do relieve that twinge in your lower back or mild throb in your wrist is think about food.

Healthbolt posted this last week and it got me thinking. There's a study that suggests that thinking about food you find delicious can help manage pain. But could I really just fantasize about, say, corned beef and cabbage, and poof, my headache is gone? I'm sure that example is pushing it a little, but still.

Maybe I'm not giving this idea a chance, though. There's a lot to be said about the power of the mind. What's your opinion about the idea of thinking of food as a pain reliever?