"Cooking without a recipe" news and stories

Two and a half months in, I can see through the Biscuit Matrix.

When I embarked upon my trawl toward biscuit perfection at the dawn of aught-nine, it was from a flat, sad, bitter place, indeed. Rather than crispy-footed, larded puffs of sweetly steaming layers reaching -- straining ever heavenward, my oven yielded depressing, molar-cracking pucks I refused to inflict upon my entirely un-picky dogs. Now my biscuits rock, and I'm pretty sure it's a matter of methodology rather than recipe.

Here's what I've learned after a couple dozen batches, and plenty of advice from Slashfood commenters, Facebook friends, cookbooks and Southern grandmas:

- Store the flour in the freezer, and sift it before measuring, even if it says "pre-sifted" on the bag. This has a direct effect upon the density. An overall low temperature keeps fat from heating, so use every opportunity to bring the chill. 3 1/2 - 4 cups of flour scooped straight from the bag can yield 5 cups after sifting. It makes a significant difference. Thus far, Southern Biscuit Self-Rising and White Lily All-Purpose have been very good to me.

- Whisk dry ingredients together, rather than stirring, in order to maintain airiness.

- Don't skimp on the salt, and even if it's not called for in the recipe, toss in a pinch of sugar to aid with a crunchy crust.

I love cooking on Sunday morning. Sunday is usually the one day of the week I can do whatever I want, so they're pretty laid back and slow. It's only been a recent discovery that I enjoy cooking on my one easy day of the week, as opposed to a bowl of cereal, but I'm glad I finally did come to that realization.

Some of you may remember a post from earlier this week about Nazuki, a spice bread from Georgia. Well, everyone's been pretty busy this week, so the second loaf was starting to go stale. Of course one of the best ways to use up stale bread is a nice bread pudding, and that's what I made for my Sunday morning. My first thought was to make a savory bread pudding with some tomatoes that I need to use up, but I just couldn't see using a sweet bread in a savory dish. The flavors wouldn' mesh.

After breifly flirting with making French toast instead, I mixed up some milk and eggs with some cinnamon and brown sugar, then pourd it over the crumbled Nazuki in a baking dish. The bread pudding didn't take very long to bake, and it was delicious when it was done. It was a sweet dish, but not any more so than French toast and less so than sweet syrup on pancakes. If you don't have any Nazuki on hand, I bet this would be great with cinnamon raisin bread. The recipe is after the jump.

Occasionally, I find myself in times when the busy pace of life means that I've eaten more meals prepared by strangers than those cooking on my own stove and the carefully chosen produce in my crisper drawers wilts and turns black long before I have a chance to get to it.

Last week was one of those times when, between the stomach flu, a busy week at work and a couple of evenings out with friends, I hardly cooked at all. By the time Friday night rolled around, Scott and I found ourselves sprawled out in the living room, staring blankly at each other, hungry and exhausted. We didn't want to go out and I didn't feel like cooking anything particularly ambitious. I wandered into the kitchen and took stock of my resources.

One of my favorite culinary tricks is to take food from one meal and turn it into something completely different. I've never been one of those people who can eat the same thing meal after meal (both my father and Scott can happily eat from the same batch of chili for an entire week). So refreshing my leftovers becomes a necessity if I don't want to waste food or let things go bad.

Earlier this week, Scott and I were sitting around, talking about what the week looked like for us and when we'd both be home for dinner. Once we realized we'd both be around on Wednesday, I started brainstorming out loud, ruminating on the pound of grass-finished ground beef I had in the fridge. I mentioned that I was thinking it would be good to scramble it with some veggies, maybe some beans and a can or two of tomatoes. Scott looked at me and said, "You do realize that you're talking about making chili, right?" I was momentarily crushed, as I realized that what I was considering wasn't at all original (silly in so many ways, I know). Once I got over my disappointment, I perked up, realizing that I could still take this pot of chili in any direction I wanted.

When I got home from work, I started chopping, sauting and stirring, cooking by feel without any sort of guide besides what I had in my kitchen. It turned out fantastically well and there was enough in the pot to feed us for two nights (I do love cooking once and eating twice)! I was particularly proud that I got the chard in there, because it meant that I got my nightly green vegetable in without using another pot or bowl.

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