Chicken Soup for the Sick-o's Soul

My husband has been sick, so I decided to make him some chicken soup (from scratch, mind you) on Friday afternoon. Now this may not seem like much to many of you, you may be saying, "Big deal, a little soup, whoop-de-do, a little bit of soup." Making soup isn't such a grand deal, in fact I do it all the time in the winter months. It's just that I usually cheat on some part of the experience- the broth/stock part.

In today's day in age most of us simply cannot be bothered with dragging out the stockpot, cutting up a chicken, skimming that disgusting, chicken-y, grey scum (what is that anyway?), adding the aromatics, and letting this entire concoction simmer for a minimum of two hours. So there are several chicken stocks I have come to depend on from the grocery store. There is one in particular that comes in a tetra-pak (it's like a giant juice box 'o broth), made from organic chickens that is really quite good.

But let me tell you, after going through all of the rigmarole, the toiling over the stockpot, it was well worth it. Despite making the house smell of a scrumptious chicken laboratory, the end result was a delicious, rich broth in which to nestle delightfully light Matzo Balls, sharing the bowl with celery and onion, adorned with just a hint of fresh dill. And to think, Brian only needed to get deathly ill in order to reintroduce the wonders of homemade soup to me.

Brownies, Cookies, and Pie, Oh My!

I actually feel like baking something. Perhaps it is the weather; when it's cold and blustery outside, my ultimate nesting instinct kicks in and I feel like doing all things domestic. I say actually, because the desire to bake is somewhat unusual for me. I believe there are two kinds of people to be found in the kitchen. Those who like to cook, and those who like to bake. That is not to say that the bakers don't enjoy a good twirl of the soup spoon from time to time, and that the cook-ers don't grease and flour a cake pan from time to time, but on the whole...

This desire to bake may be unusual for me, but the desire to eat sweets however, is definitely not. In fact, I'm a bit of a dessert whore. Now mind you, this doesn't mean I need a rich, ganache covered confection, laced with toffee, nougat, and all kinds of tooth-achingly sweet goodies. I just need something sweet to culminate a meal, a biscuit, piece of chocolate, or the aforementioned ganache covered treat.

The propensity to not bake, does not provide problems come the dessert course when I am entertaining. This doesn't mean I rely on the bakery; and I certainly don't offer my friends a bowl of oranges and proclaim, "Dig in." Fruit is a wonderful ingredient in dessert fare, but not simply fruit. In the summertime, I grill stone fruit. Peaches, nectarines, and apricots are wonderful sprinkled with sugar, or dried ginger, and roasted either on an indoor grill pan, or an outside BBQ. In the fall, a little bit of sweetened mascarpone cheese, sprinkled with figs or red grapes. Those are just two examples, both excessively easy, that quell the sweet tooth inside us all.

But when I want to bake, heat up the oven, warm the entire house, the smells of yeasty goodness wafting about, what other choice do I have than to break out one of my many cookbooks, peruse the pages, blow the dust off my measuring spoons and cups, and begin the process that will end in delightful construction of some late afternoon treat.

Welcome To Nosheteria

Welcome!
No, Bon Appetit!
No, definitely welcome, bon appetit would be cheesy, and you're not actually eating anything, you're just sitting in front of your computer, maybe in a cube, maybe at home.

So this is the Nosheteria, kind of like a cafeteria, where bites on food are served up to you like little morsels of goodness. In this site you'll get a little bit of everything, the occasional recipe (in the Daily Specials section), the occasional musing, and the always entertaining, story about my life (you're expected to care) in food.

In the Nosheteria I want the bourgie's to congregate, to meet and greet, and eventually, take over the world. Now bourgie, what is a bourgie? First let's get the pronunciation down, boo-zhee, sort of rhymes with sue me. Actually, it doesn't rhyme at all. “Bourgie,” is a colloquialism used by millions of people daily. Stemming from the French word bourgeoisie, “bourgie” means someone who is class-conscious, with educated and discerning tastes, and interested in enjoying the finer things in life. It is definitely not high-class, aristoratic, snooty, or snobbish. “Bourgie” is as much an idea, and a state of mind, as it is an attitude towards enjoying good food, good friends, and good conversation, everyday. It evokes a mood of simple elegance, casual yet sophisticated—modern. And let’s face it, when it comes to food, who doesn’t want to eat like a bourgie?

I'm young. Just starting out on my culinary adventures, so I do not have a surplus of disposable income. But given these constraints I (and I'm sure you as well) want to eat and entertain well. Hell, not just well-- stupendously. Therefore bourgie is a thinly veiled illusion for me, one that I'm serving up to you, my faithful readers.

If you visit this site frequently, you'll learn helpful hints, read about my trial and travails, and hopefully-- through osmosis, eat a bit better yourself. So go ahead, eat with abandon. Cooking should be fun, not simply a way to fill up your belly and absorb nutrients. Don't be afraid to call yourself a bourgie, and of course, don't be afraid to eat like one too.