In an effort to quickly slap together a post, it seems I completely forgot how to spell. In the previous post, I described my recent experience with roasted “chi chi” beans, which do not exist.
Ceci beans, however, do.
Strange, but addictive. I rinsed a can of chick peas, dried them well, and tossed with a touch of canola oil, salt and a bunch of spices from the bowels of my cabinet, including curry powder and cayenne pepper. Roasted them in a 450-degree Fahrenheit oven for about 30 minutes, until they were crisp outside and tender inside.
The result was a curiously tasty snack that would compliment happy hour. They will not help your hangover, though, as they are not so good the next day.
Roasted chi chi beans are a good snack to have if you’re trying to watch your figure (though, if that’s the case, I reluctantly have to suggest consuming them sans happy hour libations).
It’s a thing I crave so badly once the seasons change, I suspect my body is deficient in it during the warmer months. I’m talking about beef short ribs.
Short ribs beg to be braised, and you should take heed. Make a day out of it: Open a couple of bottles of wine and spend the day indoors, getting a little buzzed, watching silly movies, and smelling beef as it conquers the kitchen. If company allows, take off the pants and snuggle under a fuzzy blanket while the meat renders slowly in the oven.
This is what you’ll get, if you take the time:
And the rewards are paramount.
It was a rainy fall evening and, after an unseasonable dinner of takeout sushi, my sweet tooth started acting up. It happens every night, but I was in a desperate situation: there was nothing sweet in the apartment, save the brown sugar that had cemented itself against a supposedly air-tight glass jar.
After some investigating, I spotted a half-empty box of prepared puff pastry in the freezer. And I had plenty of pumpkin pie spice that I had used to make sweet potato custard. With these two findings, it was essential I dislodge enough of the brown sugar from the bottom of the jar to muster up a decent dessert. And that’s exactly what I did.
Here are the ingeniously named, Puff Pastry Snakes:
Okay, so they look pretty strange now that I’m seeing them again. But they’re damn good. Simply unfold a sheet of thawed puff pastry, work it with a rolling pin (or, if you’re me, a wine bottle) to seal the seams, sprinkle generously with brown sugar and pumpkin spice (or cinnamon, or whatever), roll tightly, cut into one-inch segments and bake in a 350-degree Fahrenheit oven for 20 minutes on each side.
They become crispy and flaky and, if you’re lucky, the brown sugar oozes onto the tops and bottoms of the snakes, creating a caramel coating. They go perfectly with a cup of tea.
Well, perhaps not ultimate. And not solely a foodie movie, either. Sure, food makes an appearance, but there’s so much more. Yet, at the same time, not much more. But it is terrific. Just watch the trailer and I’ll stop rambling.
eating in your underwear 