If you were a kid like me, raised on tasting the too hot sauces your father prepared in the stove, stealing a freshly cooked meatball from the bowl before they're dropped in the pot, learning how to make gnocchi on early Saturday afternoons, elbow-deep in flour, then the kitchen was probably your favorite room in your house. It was mine. Even though our house was tiny, our floor slanted, our oven old and finnicky, I loved being there. My family fought and laughed and ate there. Nothing satisfies me more than a well-stocked, beautiful, clean kitchen. It doesn't have to be enormous or Martha Stewart coordinated, but it has to have the basics plus a little extra. It has to make good use of space and light, and more than anything, you have to feel like you belong there.

I'm not a fan of formal dining rooms. I understand the need for them, but I like to eat in the kitchen. I like to prepare my food, cook it, move the pan to the table and proclaim, "Dig in!" and watch as people devour what they've spent the last hour or so gazing at wantonly.

Pretty soon, my boyfriend and I are going to be moving out of our current apartment, a cramped and creaky building built in the early 1920's, but there is no way I'm going to give up a gas stovetop. A good oven can only make or break you if you're big into baking and I would like to be big into baking. If I want a Viking though, I'll have to make the 2000 mile journey back to my mother's house in sunny California.

There are some things that need to change however. Two years ago, when we first moved in together, we had pretty much nothing but some old hand-me-down plates and utensils. We still have all those hand-me-downs! I can't stand for it. I like clean looking modern stoneware and ceramics in primary colors. A mixed greens salad with red lettuce leaves looks beautiful against a deep yellow plate. Tomato soup, topped with sour cream and chopped green onions, looks richest in a bright blue bowl.

A good kitchen is an investment though, something usually undertaken by homeowners and foodies and chefs with a lot of time and money. I'd like to be all three someday, but for now I have to settle for the second option veering into the third with a much smaller budget to go on. Living in a apartment means dropping hard-earned cash on utensils, cookware, and appliances, rather than new sinks, cupboards, refrigerators, freezers, and that elusive Viking stove.

I'll post pictures of our new kitchen when we find it, but in the meantime there are some things I would like to replace or have eventually:

_{A KitchenAid Artisan stand mixer (in pistachio!).
New bowls for mixing and preparing ingredients.
An entirely new set of plates, six preferably, and white.
A set of serving plates, variety of sizes and colors.
A basic set of flatware for six people (knife, fork, spoon, butter knife).
Dish towels (my favorites being these hand-printed cotton towels by Lisa Price).
A new microwave.
A Cuisine Art food processor.
A Le Creuset Round Dutch Oven in Lemongrass, Red, or Dijon.
Various strainers, colanders, and sieves.
New wooden cutting boards.
A wooden rolling pin, cookie cutters, cake pans, pie pans, tart pans, cupcake pans, bread pans, molds, cake decorating supplies, the works. I don't bake and I would love to start.
New tins for flour, sugar, coffee, etc. Can be thrifted.
A teapot!}

Probably much much more. The kitchen above is beautiful. It's simple, natural, has everything you need, and does amazing things with the amount of space. I hope that whatever kitchen I build in the future will look something like that. Julia Child's kitchen was similar, but the above has a very modern and "young" look to it. I'm all for having multiple ovens and a big heavy-duty fridge in the restaurant, but at home I like things to be easy and uncomplicated. The kitchen is where I'd like to go to relax, not work, so I want to reflect that in the way it looks and feels. Cooking unwinds me like nothing else, even when it gets a bit frustrating. Things burn after all, you forget the bird defrosting in the microwave and now have magically rubber chicken, that piece of butternut squash will not peel, no matter how hard you try. But in the end the reward is satisfying for the amount of effort. And you can always get your boyfriend to clean up the mess you've made! Right? ...Right?

Japanese food is often categorized as being high in salt and low in fat due to the way food is prepared and flavored with an emphasis on seafood, vegetables, rice, noodles, and seasonal dishes. As an experiment, in the coming year I'm going to try and adopt a cleaner and simpler way of eating, taking on more characteristics from vegetarian and Japanese-style cuisine in an effort to improve my health. Most often I end up making very simple "comfort food" type dishes involving a lot of baking with heavy creams and cheeses or the stand-by staple of boxed pasta in jarred red sauce. I'm trying to find a balance between cooking healthy and frugal cuisine, achieving a varied and somewhat "exotic" diet without spending more than is necessary at high end markets toting international tastes.

In Japanese cuisine there is no such thing as a "main entrée" like there is in the majority of western cuisine. Instead there are okazu, dishes made up of flavored meats and tofu in order to compliment the shusoku, or the staple dish, which is usually noodles or rice. It is often the opposite in western cuisine with the side dish being the starch (potatoes, rice, beans, vegetables, etc) made to compliment the entrée.

To cook for my boyfriend and I, I intend to implement ichijū-sansai, or a meal of three okazu accompanying the shusoku. This means waking up early in the morning to prepare breakfast; probably some white miso soup, a small omelette, and some rice. Then I have to prepare my boyfriend's bento which will usually include leftovers from the night before. Most bento follow the formula of 4:3:2:1, which I try to abide by. This means four parts rice, three parts side dish, 2 parts vegetables, and 1 part pickles or dessert. Usually my bento will have rice, some stir-fried meat or noodles, some chopped or steamed veggies, and a bit of fruit. I have to make good effort to make this meal light and healthy because my boyfriend has a big appetite. Sometimes instead of a complicated bento, I'll just make onigiri, or rice balls stuffed with a tuna and mayo mixture. Usually for myself I'm content with fruit, crackers, and cheese or something similar. For dinner, small things like stir-fried soba with vegetables, croquettes, tonkatsu, cucumber rolls, simmered meats, and grilled fish to go with a large bowl of rice and a bowl of miso.

Often in the course of a western dinner, we eat appetizers, salads, and soups before the main course, then saving dessert for last. In Japanese cuisine, one eats the salad with the rest of the meal and the soup is saved for afterward as a means to cleanse the palette after the heavily flavored and salted foods. This has always bothered me about Japanese restaurants in America. Miso soup isn't at its best cold, so I feel like I'm going backwards when I'm eating.

In order to flex a little creative muscle while taking the Japanese diet approach, I'd like to implement some Filipino dishes like pansit, lumpia, and adobo among other kinds of fare. It would be quite boring to entirely limit myself to one particular culture all the time, but at the moment I would just like to apply Japanese cooking and dining techniques as well as spices and flavors to other dishes. It'll be interesting to see how it turns out.

To keep things inexpensive, I'll be making a bi-weekly grocery list stocking my pantry with the bare essentials. We don't have the sort of money where I can just cram the cupboards full week after week, so careful planning is a must. A book that will provide great help is Washoku: Recipes from the Japanese Home Kitchen by Elizabeth Andoh.

I also don't have a very well-equipped kitchen at the moment, but that's something I'm going to be working on. More on this in the next entry.

I woke up really late today after some weird dreams, one of which I'm sure was me subconsciously planning this bento because I knew I'd wake up really late! Creepy. I had to rush to take these photos, so pardon the quality. It's a gray, humid, murky day today so I made a cheerful bento that finally isn't flower themed. Also, not so much ranting from me today, just pictures! And yes, that tomato really was that red.

( 081706 )

xposted - bentolunch

My bento! I made this yesterday but I'm backdating this entry for archival purposes. I was hungry and I wanted to try out my new cute "Lunch Time" bento so I packed something up and took a bike ride. It's considerably smaller than Chris's bento, which is okay because I don't need to eat really big portions. Mmm... bacon. No bentos for the 16th (today) but there will be one tomorrow!

( 081506 )

I was having one of those days. You know those days where you wake up and there's crap in your eyes and you know for a fact you didn't sleep very well but you still slept really late and now it's bright and beautiful outside but you're still feeling very. Very. Grumpy. So I got up and still made Chris a yummy bento, using rice as my canvas and forfeiting the delicious leftovers from last night.

( 081506 )

GARLIC SHRIMP STIR-FRY INGREDIENTS 2/3 cup peanut oil 1-2 lb raw jumbo/tiger shrimp 4-6 stalks green onions, thinly sliced 2-3 serrano chiles chopped (depending on your level of spicy tolerance) 5 medium-size cloves of garlic coarsley chopped 1/2 white onion, finely chopped 1/2 cup cornstarch 1/2 cup flour Salt & Pepper

DIRECTIONS About 10-12 jumbo shrimp per person is a good hearty serving so adjust measurements accordingly. This recipe is mainly about eyeballing things or adjusting them according to taste. Peel, wash, and devein shrimp and leave tails on. Combine flour and cornstarch in a shallow bowl and coat 5-6 shrimp evenly. In a non-stick frying pan or seasoned wok, heat up oil on medium-high heat for approximately 8 minutes. You can test if its ready by dipping a wooden spoon in the oil. If bubbles form around the edges of the spoon, the oil is hot and ready. Toss coated shrimp into oil and let cook for about 15 seconds or until they aren't gray anymore, but don't let them turn completely opaque, you're only lightly frying them. Set aside cooked shrimp in a dish and continue cooking the shrimp in small batches until finished. Sprinkle the cooked shrimp with salt and pepper to taste. Dispose of most of the oil until you have just about 2 tablespoons of oil left in the pan. Set the oven to low-medium heat and add chopped garlic to the pan, stir and sautee for approximately 2 minutes until the aroma starts come through and you can smell the garlic. Add chopped serrano chiles and onion and stir-fry for 2 minutes, then add fried shrimp. Stir-fry for about 4 minutes, until garlic begins to turn golden brown and toasted, then add green onions. Stir-fry for about 2 minutes then remove from heat and serve with lots of steamed white rice. Note: The version I made for this bento used white shrimp which cooked to about the size of a silver dollar. I also didn't use any serrano chiles and added a handful of chopped parsley and some thinly sliced zuchinni. Frankly, I prefer the old version, but feel free to try the zuchinni variation, it was still delicous! © honeyclover.livejournal.com

xposted - bentolunch

I decided to make a sandwich for bento today because we had some beautiful tomatoes from the farmer's market and bought a great whole grain wheat loaf on sale from the supermarket. The photography is a lot better this time around because yesterday was gloomy and overcast and today is bright and sunny. Plus, I actually made an effort to find better lighting this time... but we can pretend I'm very professional about this.

( 081406 )

xposted - bentolunch

That title is actually a misnomer seeing as I've made at least six or seven other bentos previous to this one. But, I always find myself making them in the last hurried fifteen minutes before my boyfriend has to leave for work so I've never been able to take pictures. Therefore we're starting at one, which I rushed to put together this afternoon.

( 081306 )

xposted - bentolunch

I'll abolish any ideas you have about me being some posh foodophile by prefacing that my parents never had a lot of money while I was growing up.  We lived in a tiny tiny house in one of the less shiny places in LA and our family budget was limited to my mother's meager paychecks and my father's limping social security.  Still, despite that, every night without fail we got together at the table, my mother, my father, my brother, and I, and ate dinner.  And by dinner I mean that a typical fare could have roast cornish hens cooked with lemon, celery, and basil, a light salad with thin rings of red onions, cherry tomatoes, and slivers of carrot tossed with olive oil, salt, and red vinegar, and roast red-skinned potatoes in olive oil, rosemary, salt and pepper.  My parents were "foodies" before legions of hip twenty to thirty somethings started building shrines in their pantries to Nigella Lawson and taping episodes of Good Eats on the Food Network and they did it without the benefit of an income that can afford that $35 Bloc de Fois Gras de Canard.  We had as many complex meals and as simple down-home ones and ate as many corned beef hashes as the next family of four.  However my brother and I would groan, audibly  and dramatically, every time my mum and dad disappeared into a Williams-Sonoma, emerging hours later with several heavy paper bags we had to cart to the parking lot. 

My dad would always cook from memory, always creatively improvising for each meal, and always (according to my mother) putting too much salt or burning the edges of everything.  My mother on the other hand baked and always consulted several recipe books before coming to any concrete decision.  It was a statement on their personalities and as a result I developed my dad's palette for food (salty, savory, spicy, crispy) but uphold my mum's love for fastidious aesthetic process.

As a kid I'd come home from school to watch Julia Child on public television before dinner.  At first for the innate giggle her deep, warbly voice instilled and eventually for the end product that came at the climax of every show.  I wasn't interested in cooking as a child, I was fascinated by food.  I wanted to taste all of it; peel the crispy skin off every piece of fried chicken, slurp the last draught of creamy mushroom soup, nab only the tastiest end portions of every roast, and dig to the bottom of every salad for the saltiest vegetables.  I was greedy and I was hungry and moreover, I was spoiled.  Years after moving out of my parent's house I still compare every restaurant, cafe, diner, eatery, greasy spoon, and household to what my parent's prepared for dinner for so many nights.  I can mentally check off all our favorite dishes and how to make them and remember intimately what they tasted like the first time we had them and just vaguely what the actual table conversation was about.  It wasn't until I was on my own, facing the long long bulk aisles full of instant ramen and many years of  ground beef recipes, that I developed an avid and obsessional love of cooking.  I became one of those twenty something gourmands tuning into the Food Network every chance I got, poring over cookbooks like they were cheap political thriller novels, and thinking wistfully of non-stick cookware the way teenage girls do about Wentworth Miller.  Cooking is the most satisfying thing in my life right now.  I can't describe the joy or excitement I feel when trying something new, having a dish turn out marvelously, or watching people's reactions as they eat something I've made.  It satisfies all my sensory desires and still allows for a lot of creative freedom on my part.  Nothing is more fun than gathering together dissimilar but cohesive ingredients and making something that tastes, looks, and smells wonderful.

As of right now, my family-the misty watercolor childhood version of it-is far away from me.  I live two-thousand miles away from Los Angeles and its familiar eateries, hole-in-the-wall Thai food establishments, and the comfort of my mother's overstocked refrigerator.  It's just me cooking for my boyfriend and I.  So I am determined to try as many new things possible and to equal or improve upon my family's old recipes; so that one day I too can enter a Williams-Sonoma only to emerge hours later with enough heavy bags to elicit dramatic exasperation from my only loved one and walk through the mall, thinking of all the ways I can implement stainless steel skewers into my grilling techniques, while my boyfriend only ponders what's for dinner.