Any excuse to use my ramekins

Although my pasta in cream sauce last week was a bust, the creamy chicken pot pies I made did not disappoint.  My brother-in-law and his girlfriend came over for dinner last week, so I felt like we needed to make something other than pasta or frozen pizzas (both insanely popular choices for us two sleep-deprived souls).  I keep checking the weather every morning, and in case you're wondering, yes it's still cold outside.  Cold weather means my go-to entertaining recipes require the use of the crock-pot or the oven.  Chicken pot pies, I thought, would be a good choice, and they're "easy." 

The chicken pot pies of my youth came frozen in single serving boxes.  Usually my mom would heat one up for me on nights they were going out.  I loved them even though I almost always burned my tongue in my impatience, probably because they were mini.  While I could make this recipe in a large casserole dish, it would really take something away from the novelty of an individual serving.  That is why I truly love my ramekins.  I bought the ramekins not even knowing what I would make in them, but I just couldn't resist their cuteness.  Someday I'll make crème brûlée, someday.  Until then, there's chicken pot pie to be baked...

It still surprises me when I make meal so deeply ingrained in my American cultural context, and it seems foreign to those around me.  A chicken pot pie, everyone knows what that is, right?  Of course, this one is slightly different from the Swanson pies we kept in the deep freeze.  The Dutch make all sorts of baked dinners, ovenschotels as they are categorized.  A stewed oven dish is something they've seen hundreds of times, but I think it's the biscuit topping that throws them for a loop.  Even though they love their buttermilk--have I mentioned before that my drink choices at Dutch history conferences usually consist of milk or buttermilk?--they don't seem to cook or bake with it at all.  Maybe it's because they also don't really use baking powder or baking soda?  For whatever reason, biscuity things are a novelty to our guests.

So glad they were a success.  Staring at that picture makes me want to make them again, and that might yet happen.  We've still got plenty of chilly days left on the calendar.

Day in the Life

Laura over at Navigating the Mothership likes to do "day in the life" posts quarterly and invites others to join in.  I've always thought it would be fun but was never sure if it fit into the theme of my blog.  Since my blog seems to be fairly theme-less at the moment, I thought why not.  There's not much going on here at the moment: pretty much same ol' thing, which became painfully clear to me after spending Thursday "documenting" myself.  Oy, I need to do more!

Lest the above freezing temperatures would have us forget, the utter darkness at 7:15 reminds me that it's still winter out there.  Better than in December, though, when I swear the sun rises at 9:00.

Dirty pan I left to soak overnight.  Our sink is small, so I could only soak half.  What's that I hear?  A baby?  No time for tea!

Niek doesn't have to leave for work quite yet, so he gets Johanna washed up and dressed while I make his Dutch lunch of four sandwiches and have some breakfast.

 Niek leaves for the day, and I putter around the house, folding laundry and kissing a baby.

Inevitably, Johanna poops.  So, you know, off to the changing table.

Some friends of ours just had a baby, and I do the proper Dutch thing: I send a card.  I don't really know what to write, so I browse back through our cards and google a bunch of sentences to make sure it's all spelled correctly.  My spelling in Dutch is really atrocious.
After that, we pack up and walk to the post office.  I miss being able to leave outgoing mail in my mailbox, but the Dutch just don't do that.  I shouldn't complain; we live a stone's throw away from a post office.

Five minutes later we're home, and Johanna is ready for her 10:00 nap.  She sleeps.  I try to get some work done.   When she wakes up, there's a diaper change involved somewhere along the way and I'm ready for lunch: grilled cheese and a tangerine.

While she plays, I answer some e-mails, eat some chocolate and make the bed.

1:00 time for another little nap for her and time to read blogs and to do a little more work.
1:45 the baby is up and we head out to run errands.  On this particular day, I have to go to a store west of Amsterdam, so I catch the tram near our house.

Ugh, I don't know why, but Osdorp depresses me.  I think it's all the low-cost housing from the 70s and 80s.  I feel like I've entered another universe.

The weather is holding, and I'm only a few miles from home.  I decide to walk back instead of taking the tram.  Johanna sleeps in the carrier, and I get to enjoy some fresh air.  Because she's sleeping so well, I stop at the drugstore to get her some baby nasal spray for stuffy nose.  Why is there a creepy worm on the packaging?

Also, this sign amuses me.  English is quite prevalent here but not always appropriately employed.  "Street corner work," really?  I'm not sure they really thought that through.

We're home by 4:00.  There's another diaper to be changed.

Playtime on the ground and an attempt to read the paper.

After a bit of a struggle, Johanna conks out for her last nap around 5:30.  I head to the kitchen to make dinner.

Just pasta with veggies in a cream sauce.  I think it would have been better had I run to the store for actual cream instead of just using the milk I had on hand.  Still, it wasn't bad.
6:15 Niek comes home and the baby is awake.  Just in time for our family meal.
Around 7:00, we put the munchkin in her pajamas and settle down for a few stories.  Of course, Johanna wants to get in one more meltdown before bedtime.

Johanna is asleep at 8:00 but woke up a few times.  No time for adult conversations.  By 9:30 she is down for good (I hope), and we do the geriatric thing by going to bed.  You know, I believe that someday I will feel well rested again.

Finding New Ways to Eat Winter Veggies

As I said earlier this week, I felt a moment of inspiration last weekend while menu planning.  Where it came from, I have no idea, but something just clicked and Niek and I actually felt excited about our eating plans for the week.  Winter veggies--which ones to choose and what on earth do you do to them to make them delicious?  Summer vegetables are easy: chop them up, throw them in a bowl with some dressing, and call it a salad.  Voila, dinner.  Last time I checked, eating raw cabbage at every meal isn't that appetizing (although I have a fabulous read cabbage slaw taco recipe that is truly amazing).

But, we did it.  We found a recipe that incorporates the best of Dutch winter vegetables, and no, it's not stampot.  We settled on the un-Dutch recipe for minestrone, and oh wow was it good.  As always, epicurious.com came in handy with a great rendition of winter minestrone.  There were the usual kinds of substitutions since Dutch grocery stores aren't exactly brimming with produce choices, and I'm just too stinkin' tired to lug myself and the baby halfway across Amsterdam in search of every, last ingredient.  Those days have been put on hold until...I don't know when I'll feel like doing that ever again...maybe when the little munchkin no longer needs to nurse and I could in theory blissfully leave her with Niek for days without worrying about her nutrition.  In the meantime, cubed bacon went in for the pancetta, the escarole was nixed altogether, and kale stood in as second-best for chard.  Why do the Dutch hate chard?  I would assume they do, because it is very difficult to track down.  Niek doesn't even know the Dutch word for it (snijbiet, in case you're wondering). It was sad not to use it, but the kale proved to be an adequate substitute.

Although the Dutch supermarkets fail to have a large variety of produce, they do have a surprising number of cabbage varieties.  I counted five last time we were there.  There was no savoy cabbage this time, so I picked up this little number, a head of spitskool.

I love this picture, because it looks like the head of cabbage is leaning into the shot as if to say, "Hello, I'm a spitskool."

And there you have it.  It was probably one of the best winter soups I have ever made, and it was even better the second day.  I just felt so full of goodness (re: fiber), so now I can make it through the rest of the winter without constantly despairing over the lack of greens in my diet or daydreaming about a flight back to California.

Gourmet = Fun Winter Dining

That's it.  I reached the point of winter this weekend when going to the supermarket irritates me.  Cold weather people--basically anyone who reads this blog outside of California, and right now I'm jealous of my friends on the West Coast--you must know what I'm talking about.  The fruit choices have dwindled down to apples, bananas, and oranges.  I get some mangoes and berries thrown in for good measure here, but they're ridiculously expensive and sometimes don't even really taste like anything.  And vegetables...you know I just really love good root vegetables, but I'm pretty sick of looking at parsnips and beets.  After weeks of feeling uninspired in the kitchen, I think I finally broke through with some good recipes for the week.  Hint, I'll be using lots of cabbage and kale.

However, that isn't what I really wanted to talk about today.  What I really wanted to share was my amazing experience with Gourmet (not pronounced gor-may, no it's gur-met, as in, "I met up with some people last night and had a really good time with good food and conversation and cute kitties and smiling babies."  Like that.  That's how you pronounce it.)  Wikipedia's entry on it only gives me the activity, "gourmetten," so technically I guess we were gourmett-ing.  I think some people here also call it a raclette. Any way you slice it,  you enter into the fondue/Korean gogigui /Japanese teppanyaki territory.  You sit down at the table laden with raw ingredients and go to town cooking on the stone cook-top or in the little pans underneath.  This is the second time I've done it, and I just love it.  It is, to be honest, slightly more difficult with a squirming baby, but it's still manageable.

The ingredients don't have to be too terribly exciting, and let's be straight here, in January in the Netherlands there aren't too many exciting ingredients to find at your local supermarket.  But that is why Gourmet is so awesome.  It's the whole experience of cooking all your own little dishes while you sit around and talk that makes for such a nice evening.  My favorites to make were omelets and rösti in the pans.  Our host told us that his family always did this on New Year's Eve when he was growing up to fill up a lot of time for the long evening leading up to midnight.  Niek's family did this on Second Christmas Day with his grandparents.  If you want to try this, and I say do, I recommend the following:
1) Plan this with people you actually like talking to.  The food does take some time to cook, so there is a big chunk of time you have to fill with something other than eating.
2) Have a good ventilation system in your home.  While the meat and veggies on the cook-top smell amazing, they let off a lot of steam and grease. 
3) Following #2, don't wear anything that needs to be dry-cleaned.  No matter what, you will leave smelling a bit like the fryer at a fast food restaurant.  If you know this ahead of time and just embrace it, it becomes a non-issue.

Very confused kitty.  "What?  People come in mini-size?"  Note the diaper bag in the car seat to keep the cat from thinking it was a new bed for him.

Nothing like a nice evening of tabletop grilling to lift me out of my funk.  And the sun is shining today, and there are no gale force winds at the moment.  What nice ways to break up the winter blues.

Fish and little time to cook...

Ah, welcome mid-winter.  With your short days, cloudy skies, you make it that much more difficult to rebound from the gaiety of the Holidays.  Do you know what solves the feelings of malaise?  Hot and filling casseroles that bubble up delicious aromas while cooking in my oven.  Last week it was time for a little bit of fish pie.  If it hadn't been for Tessa Kiros' beautiful description of this dish that she had inherited from a Finnish family friend, I'm not sure I would ever have given it a go.  After all, I grew up in the Midwest where pie is synonymous with dessert and does not denote any sort of meal laden with fish and mashed potatoes.

I'll spare you the pictures.  They didn't turn out quite as I had hoped, and I don't want to turn anyone off attempting fish pie in the future.  But it was delicious as the mashed potatoes mixed with the sauce, veggies, and pieces of fish.  I did make it with pollack instead of cod, and I cut out the shrimp.

Ever since I saw a special late one night on PBS about aquaculture (yeah, PBS is where it's at when you need a grad school study break), I haven't been able to bring myself to buy most shrimp found in the supermarket.  I'm also the kind of person who carries a list of sustainable fish around in her wallet.  It makes shopping for seafood kind of depressing and quite exhausting.  I've been trying to strike a balance between buying food raised/caught/grown in a more sustainable way and not feeling horribly guilty if some of the things we eat are part of the...what is that they call it?...the industrial-agricultural system.  It's been kind of exhausting lately.  Probably because I don't sleep all that well with a four-month-old, and I would like my food to take less time to prepare.  I think I am starting to fully understand why pre-packaged foods are so popular.

Still, as Johanna continues to grow (and hopefully sleep more at night) I hope buying and preparing foods will once again become really enjoyable.  I loved eating the fish pie, I just didn't enjoy juggling and crying baby and a pot of boiling potatoes.   

Cheese and butter

I just had a sandwich with cheese and butter.  In a sea of blog posts and newspaper articles about eating a healthy diet in the new year, I felt so compelled to put it out there that I just ate two kinds of fats with a healthy dose of carbohydrates.  Do other people do this?  It's not something I ever did growing up, but I know that lots of Dutch people love the combination.  The mother of the family I stayed with during my first summer abroad in Germany packed them in my school bag for my mid-morning snack, and I've seen it here often enough.  Oddly, I hate the taste of butter and cheese in America.  Maybe it's the kind of butter, or the fact that I've never had truly good Gouda cheese in the States, or maybe it's the kind of bread I can get here.  Whatever the reason, it's really only something I like to eat here, especially on days like today when, despite a reasonable caloric intake, I feel like I'm starving.  I blame this on three things: my metabolism has to readjust after the truly gluttonous holiday season, I'm breastfeeding a hungry hippo (or maybe just a baby), and I've finally started running again.  I'm sure dietitians the world over are shaking their heads in disapproval over my fat, fat, carbo combination.  To that I will say that I am finally not hungry.

Christmas Cookies

Honestly, the title of the post should really be Christmas cookie, as in, I only successfully made one type of cookie this year.  The ingredients for Niek's favorite holiday biscotti are still in the cupboard, and I've set a goal of getting them finished before Valentine's Day.  If I'm lucky, I just might make that deadline.

Although it wasn't a full-out baking marathon (those days may not happen in this house until Johanna is a bit older), I did get to introduce my sister-in-law to the pure joy of making Christmas cookies.  I'm not sure what she knew she was getting herself in for when she accepted my invitation to come over and bake.  I made her pour through my back issues of Bon Appetit and Martha Stewart Living while I simultaneously perused epicurious.com's list of "must bake" cookies.  In the end, we settled on the yet-to-be-made biscotti, a chocolate thumbprint cookie, and some Corn Flakes wreaths. 

My sister-in-law was really fascinated by the picture of the wreaths, which is why we chose them.  Just a heads up in case you are planning on buying food coloring in the Netherlands--it's not easy.  The stock room manager at my local supermarket told me they don't sell it anymore because artificial coloring isn't healthy.  Seriously, that is what he told me as he stood in the grocery aisle full of candy.  I suppose it was as good of a reason as any he could come up with on the spot.  On the walk back home, feeling a little defeated about having not green food coloring, we dropped into the Indian market just on the off chance they might carry the scourge known as a combination of water, propylene glycol, Blue #1 and Yellow #5.  I'm not quite sure what the ingredients were, but he sold us a powdered form for €1.  Nothing much to lose there.  Unfortunately, it did not color the Corn Flakes well.  At least we got to have some fun with "American" marshmallows, even if the marshmallow mixture did not hold everything together well.  I gave up in the end and just made a big, Corn Flakes colored wreath.  Our efforts ended up in the trash later that evening, but it was festive while it lasted.

Our other attempt at Holiday baking seemed to come together at little better than the other one.  Surely, it's almost impossible to go wrong with chocolate on chocolate.  My sister-in-law apparently has never really baked before, but she did a great job.  I am also, admittedly, a little difficult to work with in the kitchen, and I was proud of myself for not letting my over-bearing and controlling tendencies get the best of me.  I made the ganache while she rolled out the dough.  Lovely, easy cookies that everyone seemed to love.

Once the cookies were finished, Niek and his brother finished decorating our tree.  Without my brother-in-law and sister-in-law we wouldn't have any cookies, and I'm pretty sure our tree would still be bare.  Nothing like Christmas and baking to bring a family together.

I just got Baked!

My parents are flying in at the end of the week, but they sent a box of gifts ahead in the mail.  The problem with a reading family is that most people ask for books as presents, and those tend to set suitcases over their weight restrictions rather quickly.  None of the books were wrapped yet, and I saw that one of the cookbooks I requested was in the box:  Baked New Frontiers in Baking.  OMG (am I allowed to write that?  Maybe I should also write that I luv it and think it's gr8).  So excited to try out some new recipes--after this coming Thursday's Christmas cookie extravaganza, of course.
Until I'm ready for a kitchen post, here is a picture of le bebe after our walk today.  I've been afraid to walk with her in the wrap, but our strolls have been cut to a minimum due to a certain miss cranky pants not loving extended periods in the stroller.  Luckily, my friend sent her a slightly too large pair of fleece pants.  Perfect as an outer layer during our chilly jaunts outdoors.

Bring on the cold, North Sea.  My baby's ready for it.

Thanksgiving abroad

Unlike in America, I did not get to celebrate Thanksgiving last Thursday.  In some ways I wish the American cultural imperialism that Europeans are so fond of disdaining would also apply to Thanksgiving.  Who wouldn't want to celebrate such a glorious holiday?  Maybe it's because they don't like to watch (real) football here.  Turkey and family with a side of Packers/Lions is a nice way to spend a cold, Thursday afternoon.  Our big gathering was Saturday instead, and it turned out pretty well.  Preparation only involved one trip to the American store this year.  Buying canned pumpkin cut down the time it took to make a pie by at least half, thank goodness.  Have you ever tried baking two pies with a ten week old?  Try explaining to a baby that no, mom can't pick you up right now or she'll overcook the eggs for the custard filling.  It did not go over well.  But we both survived and got some pretty good pies out of it, too. 

Despite assurances from the poelier that there would be a turkey ready on Thursday for pick-up, my father-in-law was sadly informed that some other person had bought his reserved turkey earlier in the day.  Confusing to all involved, unless there is some other Dutch guy with the same name wishing to have Thanksgiving at the exact same time.  Instead of twelve pounds of turkey, we ended up with a 15 1/2 lb. turkey (the only one the poulterer could arrange on such short notice).  I'm not opposed to a bigger bird, really I'm not, it's just that they don't fit in the oven.  The one we got fit, but just barely.  And I mean that--the breast roasted about half an inch from the top of the oven's heating element.  I'm shocked the white meat didn't turn into a dried out, jerky-like disaster.  I supposed I have tin foil, a little bit of luck, and plenty of butter to thank that it was a success. 

And thanks to the mysterious stranger, who bought our turkey, we had plenty of leftovers for the next day (and the next, and a carcass for soup too!).  Niek wanted to know the proper protocol for making a sandwich for lunch.  I'm not one  to smush all the side dishes between two pieces of bread.  Just give me a little meat with some good mayo and I'll call it a day.  Lets all praise the deliciousness of Dutch mayo.  So good!  Do you see Niek diving into the mayo jar?  Yeah, just as it should be.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!  I can't believe it's almost December.  Did someone say cookie recipes?

Why I sometimes miss Target...

Step 1: Bundle up baby.  In the process, cause baby to start screaming.  Unbundle baby and calm her down.  Re-bundle baby and put her in the stroller.  Hear baby start crying.  Respond wryly, "Sorry, baby.  It's time to stop living like shut-ins and go get these errands done."

Step 2: Walk to tram stop.  Pick up stroller with baby in it and walk up a flight of stairs to the platform.  Ride in tram for fifteen minutes.

Step 3: Walk to the "green" supermarket that sells the dishwashing liquid I like.

Step 4: Walk to my favorite coffee place.  Realize I have to walk five minutes out of my way, because I can't get to the coffee place that is literally across the street from where I'm standing due to construction on the tram tracks.

Step 5: Drink coffee and eat almond paste-filled cookie.  Decide the five minute detour was well worth it.

Step 6: Walk ten minutes to another grocery store to get carrots for dinner recipe.  Sing the praises of Dutch design as my small stroller fits between parked cars on the incredibly narrow sidewalks.  Curse the Dutch for having such uneven and narrow sidewalks

Step 7: Walk five more minutes to the drugstore to buy toothpaste and shower gel.

Step 8: Five more minutes of walking (ugh I'm so tired) to the HEMA (kind of like Target but sooo much smaller, and they only sell their own brand of goods) for a baby brush and hand soap.  Wait in line while baby starts screaming.  Look apologetic while feeling annoyed that the lines are so long.

Step 9: Walk to tram stop and ride in it for ten minutes.

Step 10: Hoist stroller with baby and various bags of life's necessities down the flight of stairs.  Wonder how people with mobility issues ever get anywhere.

Step 11: Arrive home.  Unbundle pissed off baby.  Crash on couch.  Fantasize about hiring live-in help.  Realize that is not an option.  Feel triumphant about getting out of the house and completing all errands.