Chokes and Shrooms

First I shall bore you with the acting news: I got accepted into a house improv team for the Neon Venus theatre. Also, I got cast in a staged reading of scripts that were finalists in a WGA contest and I’ll be goth-ing it up for the performance next Tuesday. If you are in the industry contact moi and I’ll send you the industry invite:) I wish I could invite everyone. It is a fun scene I’m in. But alas the show is for the industry so I only get one personal guest. La-di-da, aren’t I special.

Enough about me. For now.

Last week I gave you difficult artichokes so I thought I’d make them easier this week: all you need is ability to open the can. Some even come with pull tabs.

This recipe has two of my faves. Fungi and thistles. Yah. But the ingedient that took the recipe into must-make territory was capers.
I got this recipe here from the Cooking in College blog.
So what if I’m not involved in institutional scholastic pursuits?
Based on my vocabulary you should be aware that I am a lifelong scholar, oh yes I am.

Although I should probably enroll in street smarts 101 sometime soon.

shrooms n chokes adapted from Cooking in College

1/4 cup chopped yellow onion
5 small mushrooms (I used 3 cremini, three white button), sliced
1/2 tsp. minced garlic (I used jarred)
1/4 c. Dry white wine
Wine glass for you to drink the rest of the bottle which if you are planning on doing may I suggest a Sancerre? I love a good Sancerre
1 can of water-packed quartered artichokes, drained
1 tsp. freshly squeezed lemon juice
1/2 tsp. dried basil
1 1/2 Tbsp. small capers
Olive oil spray
Spray a skillet and heat over medium. Add onion and sauté until soft. Add shrooms and sauté until soft. Add garlic, sauté a rad tad longer, then add artichoke hearts, wine, lemon, and basil and cook off the excess of liquid.
Add capers and take off heat.

Eat up, bee-yatch.

That’s the wine talking. The Sancerre. You know how the French can be.
I jest. Total Francophile here. They get to be snobs because their shit is better. It is.

All Choked Up

I cannot resist a decent pun.

I really love this. It’s all elegant looks but elegant is just egg minus a g and plus a few other letters.

Because this is really just extra-tasty egg salad.
I covered my love of remoulade, oui?

Less elegant, but easier, is to serve the dip in a bowl like a sane person:

Artichokes Stuffed with Remoulade Egg Salad (adapted from Everyday Cooking with Dr. Dean Ornish
2 artichokes, steamed or boiled
2 chopped egg whites
1/4 cup reduced fat mayo
2 Tbsp. chopped parsley
2 tsp. brown mustard
Dash ketchup
1 tsp. chives
2 tsp. sherry wine vinegar
1 tsp. capers
Slice the cooked chokes in half and use a spoon to take out the thistle-y center.
Mix the remainder of the ingredients, take and play. Love capers? Add more. Need mo mustard in your life? Go for it. For elegance, spoon into the artichokes, or just serve on the side.

Queen’s Park Swizzle (fo shizzle)

Again I beseech thee to tell me which photos are best. Do you like the first (seen above) or the second:

Do let me know. I know that I still have a ways to go when it comes to photography but I’m trying to improve, bit by bit.

Also, I’m still trying to be ahead of the trend, drink-y wise.

I never am good at doing what other people do.

I think this gets in my way. Until it BECOMES my way. As in, it’s the people who don’t fit in, who do their own thing, who end up standing out.

Or they live lonely, lonely, brilliant lives and are famous when they die. I hope that’s not me.

That thought was deep and dark. Like I like my coffee, chocolate, goth-ware.
Let’s have a drink.

The Queen’s Park Swizzle will be served at the restaurant I’m going to open someday called Pho Shizzle.

So let’s swizzle at Pho Shizzle, fo rizzle.

G’night.

Oh, and I friggin’ made the bloody crushed ice with a plastic bag of ice and a hammer, y’all.
Queen’s Park Swizzle adapted from Bon Appetit May 2010

1 1/2 Tbsp. Splenda dissolved in equal amount of H2O
12 mint leaves
1 1/2 Tbsp. fresh lime juice
1/4 c. White rum
2 cups crushed ice
1/2 tsp. angostura bitters
Mix mint, Splenda syrup and lime juice in the bottom of your glass. Muddle that shiznit. Add rum, then ice, and swizzle (or stir). Add more ice, mounding as high as you can then float the bitters.

Braised tempeh

My mistress, my lover, my one and only, i.e. my career, has kept me busy running about this year. Class! Audition! Improv! Stand-up! Writing! Screening!

This weekend she had a little soirée to attend where I praised her work in a little movie we watched that will be in the Chiller Network in May. She did ok. And I’m her worst critic. But I will be asking y’all to watch “Listen, My Children” in a couple of months.

I realized after doing stand-up last Monday (and after agreeing to do it again on the 15th!) that my mistress, Mz. Work, was tired. And hungry.

She came along when I ate at Caffe Roma to write this Blackboard Eats review, published today, but my official meat taster out-ate the both of us, as he usually does.

So I said ok, I’ll cook just for you.

I made her tempeh. And tonight I’m making her cinnamon rolls. Stay tuned!

Braised Tempeh for Your One and Only adapted from Mark Bittman’s How to Cool Everything Vegetarian

Olive oil spray
2 oz. tempeh, crumbled
3/4 tsp. minced garlic
3/4 tsp. ginger purée (I used jarred, feel free to use fresh)
Freshly ground pepper
Sea salt
1 cup diced tomato (I used canned)
1 Tbsp. soy sauce
Big handful of baby spinach
2 chopped green onions
1 Tbsp. chopped parsley
Spray a pan with olive oil and heat over medium-high. Add tempeh. Cook and stir, and when it gets a bit of color add garlic, ginger, and a sprinkle salt and pepper. Sauté a bit longer, until the tempeh is deeper colored. Add tomatoes and soy sauce, bring to a boil, then lower to a simmer until thickened. Stir in spinach, parsley and onions. Stir and cook just until the spinach wilts. Watch your lover melt in your arms after they taste it. Whee!