• pull the meat

    Despite having an abundance of our own pork and beef, I often go days without digging any out of the freezer. It’s easier to grab a jar of yogurt for breakfast, saute some veggies with leftover rice for a quick supper, or make a grilled cheese sandwich, baked mac and cheese, or a big ol’ chef salad. But then every now and then, I remember: MEAT, Jennifer. PULL THE MEAT, and I run down cellar to grab an assortment of things to use in the next few days. 

    ground sausage, burger, ham, beef shanks

    It’s not that the meat is better food, necessarily, but there’s something about pulling meat out of the freezer that makes me sit up and pay attention, culinarily speaking. 

    • If I don’t use the meat once it’s thawed, it will go bad, so there’s that. 
    • One well-rounded meat-based meal often stretches to two or three, shape shifting in more creative ways than my non-meat meals. 
    • Meat byproducts spawn new life: bones to broth to the cooking liquid for rice and soup; fat (bacon or sausage) into scrambled eggs, stirfries, pie dough, and cookie dough (bacon fat chocolate chunk cookies, anyone?).
    • A little bit of leftover meat fluffs a non-primary meat meal exponentially: a single leftover scoop of sausage into a quiche filling, those couple pieces of bacon into a tomato sandwich, a leftover hamburger patty chopped up into a pasta sauce, a slice of ham tucked into a cheese sandwich.
    • Because meat packs an enormous flavor punch, I find that cooking with it delivers a more satisfying cooking experience, and that’s fun.
    • Meat-centric meals extend our budget.* The meals tend to be more complex and interesting (perhaps because I pay more attention to the various components when cooking with meat?), which means they leave the masses more satisfied, which means we’re less likely to snack on cereal and chips in the evening, which means our snack food lasts longer, which means I spend less money.

    *Remember: the meat I’m talking about comes from our back yard, and the slaughtering and packaging costs have long been recouped. 

    One thing I’m trying to do more of: pan-cook meat on the grill. I used my largest cast iron skillet  and then close the grill lid to keep the heat in and reduce splatters, because even though it’s outside, it still makes a mess. 

    Case Study Number One
    The other week, I fried up sausages for breakfast, and then fried the eggs in the fat. The eggs cooked, there was still some grease in the pan, so I browned a couple beef shanks and, after that, I sauteed the garlic to add to the beef stew.

    Case Study Number Two
    Just this weekend I opened a cube of ground sausage, sliced it into wedges like I’m cutting biscotti, and then fried the slices in the skillet. While they browned, I quick sliced a couple onions and peppers and then, the sausages done, I reduced the heat and slow-sauteed the peppers and onions while we ate breakfast, and then I got so wrapped up in enjoying my buttermilk pancakes, sausage, and coffee that I forgot the veggies out on the grill so they got extra crispy caramelized, but they’ll still be delicious added to a stirfry with the leftover sausage, or added to scrambled eggs, or turned into a pasta dish. We’ll see.

    Point is, serial skillet cooking on the grill first thing in the day makes me feel like I’m slaying dragons.

    But to do this, I gotta remember: pull the meat.

    This same time, years previous: chocolate cherry sourdough bread, the middle years, family road trip: coastal Maine, nova scotia oatcakes, the quotidian (6.24.19), teen club takes Puerto Rico, buttermilk brownies, fruit-filled coffee cake, better iced coffee.

  • world’s best ugly bran muffins

    Alternate Title: Ugly As Sin and Equally Irresistible

    I already have two* bran muffins on this blog — one is cake-ish and has bananas in it and the other is the muffin version of a self-righteous health nut — but then Kate posted her muffin recipe on Instagram and someone else posted a picture of the muffins they’d made using Kate’s recipe. They raved about them, so I was like, Okay, fine. I’LL DO IT. 

    I had a bunch of freshly-made cultured butter, cultured buttermilk (from the aforementioned butter), as well as a big-ass bag of bran taking up valuable real estate in my butter-stuffed freezer, so it wasn’t like my arm needed much twisting or anything. 

    I’ve made these muffins three times now, and two of those three times I doubled the batch, because: holy heck these muffins. They might appear underwhelming and look wholesome in an unappealing I-think-I’ll-pass way, and they might be flat as failure, but they are wildly delicious. In fact, my husband has said, unprompted and more than once, “These muffins may be the best muffins I’ve ever eaten.”

    So even though the flat tops bug me (sunken muffin tops are usually a sign that something is off with the recipe), I’ve decided to run with it: these ugly muffins couldn’t be more perfect. So take that, muffin police (aka The Voice Of Perfection Inside My Head).

    I eat my ugly muffins with cultured butter because I’m fancy like that. The rest of the family eats them naked (the muffins, not the people), often three or four in a single sitting.

    The mini loaves, which I resort to when I run out of muffin tins and are less tedious to deal with than fiddly muffins, look pretty gnarly since they tend to fall apart when removing them from the pans. But this is, I think, in keeping with these particular muffins’ theme: the uglier the better!

    *I lied! I have FOUR bran muffin recipes on this blog, not two! The other two are apple raisin bran muffins and refrigerator bran muffins. This one makes five. FIVE. It appears I may be partial to bran.

    World’s Best Ugly Bran Muffins
    Adapted from Kate of Venison for Dinner

    When I eventually ran out of molasses, I used half corn syrup and half blackstrap molasses, and for my most recent double batch of muffins, I used three duck eggs instead of four chicken eggs. 

    1 cup butter
    2 cups brown sugar
    ¼ cup molasses
    2 eggs
    2¾ cups flour
    2 cups wheat bran
    ½ teaspoon salt
    2 teaspoons baking powder
    2 teaspoons baking soda
    2 cups cultured buttermilk

    Cream the butter, sugar, and molasses. Add the eggs and beat well. Combine the dry ingredients and add them to the butter-sugar mixture alternately with the buttermilk.

    Scoop the batter into muffin tins or buttered mini loaf pans. Bake at 350-375 degrees for 15 minutes or so. The tops should feel firm(ish) when pressed, the edges will be pulling away from the sides of the pan, and a toothpick inserted in the muffin should come out clean.

    Cool and eat. Best eaten within the first 24 hours, but these also freeze beautifully, so do yourself a favor and bake up a humongous batch. 

    This same time, years previous: salted chocolate chunk cookies, currently: a list, cousin week, the quotidian (6.18.18), puff!, smart hostessing, sinking in, dobby and luna, magic custard cake, language study, a dare.

  • the quotidian (6.10.24)

    Quotidian: daily, usual or customary;
    everyday; ordinary; commonplace

    When the sign points to pie.

    Cream two ways: cheese and butter.

    After my breakfast post, my younger daughter set me up.

    A plate of veggies and don’t you dare try to tell me otherwise.

    Surprise carbonation: here’s to hoping I don’t have glass bombs in my basement.

    What I do have: nifty storage!
    (for some of the bottles anyway)

    You know you make ice cream frequently when you refreeze the salted ice.

    Flower planter.

    Worm snack for the chickies.

    He designed an interactive arduino light display for his senior table.

    I think he likes me.

    My running route: so green my eyes hurt.

    Weekending.

    This same time, years previous: what are you good at?, pepper jack cheese, the coronavirus diaries: week 66, the quotidian (6.10.19), ba-BAM, pulling the pin, a photo book, delivery, the quotidian (6.10.13), Jeni’s chocolate ice cream, how we beat the heat: mint tea concentrate.