Comfort cooking
May. 22nd, 2008 06:41 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
desperanceIt has been said, I am not as other men. Others have comfort food, which is familiar, unchallenging, reductive. I have comfort cooking, which is - well, rather the opposite.
Today I made a gorgeous horseradish sauce from my own grown horseradish root, my own chives, my own mayonnaise. Somebody else's Dijon mustard, which I can't replicate on account of not being in Dijon; somebody else's sour cream, which I can't produce on account of not having a cow. Nor, frankly, wanting one. I would adore the fresh dairy that comes with, but animal husbandry is not for me.
And now I am cooking tripe. I have never done this before; but there's a stall in the market that sells four different kinds, and I need to know. So. I have four different kinds of tripe, which I have washed and soaked and parboiled with salt and washed again, and then fried with onions and garlic, then sizzled in red wine vinegar. Then I added tomatoes and herbs and a dried chilli and some smoked paprika, and it's all in the slow cooker now. I'll give it a taste before I go to bed, but I may leave it going overnight. And we shall see. If it's nice, there are cannellini beans soaking to be added tomorrow, and some pork and smoked bacon too. If it's horrid, well. I can do something nice with beans and pork and smoked bacon.
[ETA: I should explain, the horseradish sauce and the tripe do not go together. No, no. The horseradish is for the beef sandwiches, for lunch. The beef is from the brisket that I simmered in the stock. The stock is for the beef-and-fennel risotto that I shall eat tonight while the tripe is slowly cooking - tho' I neglected to mention that a little of that stock has also found its way into the tripe.]
Today I made a gorgeous horseradish sauce from my own grown horseradish root, my own chives, my own mayonnaise. Somebody else's Dijon mustard, which I can't replicate on account of not being in Dijon; somebody else's sour cream, which I can't produce on account of not having a cow. Nor, frankly, wanting one. I would adore the fresh dairy that comes with, but animal husbandry is not for me.
And now I am cooking tripe. I have never done this before; but there's a stall in the market that sells four different kinds, and I need to know. So. I have four different kinds of tripe, which I have washed and soaked and parboiled with salt and washed again, and then fried with onions and garlic, then sizzled in red wine vinegar. Then I added tomatoes and herbs and a dried chilli and some smoked paprika, and it's all in the slow cooker now. I'll give it a taste before I go to bed, but I may leave it going overnight. And we shall see. If it's nice, there are cannellini beans soaking to be added tomorrow, and some pork and smoked bacon too. If it's horrid, well. I can do something nice with beans and pork and smoked bacon.
[ETA: I should explain, the horseradish sauce and the tripe do not go together. No, no. The horseradish is for the beef sandwiches, for lunch. The beef is from the brisket that I simmered in the stock. The stock is for the beef-and-fennel risotto that I shall eat tonight while the tripe is slowly cooking - tho' I neglected to mention that a little of that stock has also found its way into the tripe.]