Last week I stumbled upon The Pastry Affair’s brilliant suggestion to freeze cookie dough.  Simply make an entire batch of cookies, roll them into balls, freeze them on a plate for about an hour (or more, no worries if you forget about them), and then secure them in a freezer bag with the type of cookie and baking instructions written on the outside.

Next time you’re jonesin’ for a cookie and don’t have the time or desire to whip up an entire batch?  Problem solved.  Simply pop a few of your own pre-made cookies on a cookie sheet and voilá.  Talk about game changer.  Mid-week cookies just became a breeze.

Every night I promised to make them after dinner.  Every night the clock struck 8 and then 9 and then 10 and baking so late lost its appeal.  Until finally, I outsmarted Father Time.  I made the dough before dinner.  Stuck it in the fridge as required and baked them after the dishes were cleared.  Thus, a genius was born.

We’re not talking any old chocolate chip cookies either.  We’re talking Joy the Baker’s Chewy Molasses Chocolate Chip Cookies.  The soft vanilla-scented dough is buttery and light, the chocolate chips dark and nostalgic.  They bake up beautifully and are just as scrumptious the following day (and the day after that, should you have the will power not to eat them all in one sitting).

As per usual, I used about 3/4 of the butter and curbed the sugar a bit too.  Which means I also cut back a tad on the flour so they weren’t dry, but not enough that I was simply making 3/4 of the recipe.  I also used about 1 1/2 cups chocolate chips rather than the full 2 cups; I don’t like my cookies overly chocolatey.  Our oven tends to be slower than most, so I baked ours for closer to 12 minutes.

Joy does the recipe best, so rather than botching her perfection I’ll do you one better and simply send you to the source.  These babies are unbeatable.

In preparation for class I did a little DIY knife skills class with my friends Valerie and Rebecca.  We considered various knife skills classes in town, but they were either too pricey, booked, or didn’t cover everything we wanted.  Hence the DIY.

A trip to the grocery store, a couple of YouTube videos, and Valerie’s tome of a textbook from the Culinary Institute of America and we were good to go.  Onions, carrots, bell peppers, potatoes, and chickens — we decimated them all.

It was fun.  And good to work out some kinks before class.  We’re big time, baby.

Photo credit: Laura from Blogging Over Thyme

Shortly after arriving home, I got a call asking me to come in for an interview at another place on Wednesday morning.  Two hours after that I got yet another call asking me to come in for an interview at a third.  I was on FIRE.

On Wednesday morning I met the second person and was absolutely smitten.  A very cool, unique space, a fun concept, an array of tools and tasks utterly new to me.  I left both stoked and torn — I didn’t know which to choose.

While the two jobs are in a related industry, the places and tasks themselves couldn’t be more different.  One is a boutique priding itself on attention to detail and fine, delicate products.  The other is easily ten times bigger, offering dozens more products in a bustling rapid-fire environment.  The first is an assistant baker position at a boutique bakery.  The second is a pastry sous position at a hip new restaurant.

I chose the first.  Baking and pastry is my passion.  While the restaurant was exciting, I opted for the opportunity that offered the finer craft and the attention to detail.  I opted for depth over breadth.  As for working conditions, I’m a morning person.  The daytime hours of the bakery appealed to me over the nighttime hours of the restaurant.  It’s a small space with more opportunity to touch more things.  I’m looking forward to learning and growing and developing my skills.  I’m about to be dirt broke but I’m hoping I’ll finally find my niche.  Here’s to diving in head first.

The first time I simmered coconut milk with green curry paste and peanut butter, alongside broccoli and eggplant and mushrooms and bok choy.  I served everything atop garlicky black rice.  The second time I omitted the peanut butter and upped the ratio of coconut milk to curry paste.  Same veggies as the first time but no rice, as lacked the time/desire to cook it.

I assumed there was enough salt between the curry paste and the coconut milk, but next time I’ll probably add some soy sauce to the mix.  A hot chili or two wouldn’t go astray either.  The curries lacked zing.  I should also dig out my recipes from Chiang Mai.  That was error number one.

Not the most artistic shot, but it’ll do.

When the creatures are happy they squeeze their little fists open and shut, methodically stretching and coiling their fingers.  Similar to purring, it’s a sign of contentment.  Usually, this squeezing is done against our bodies, on our thighs or arms as they lay in our laps or arms.  Here Taco is splayed on his back, fists stretching and clenching in ecstatic anticipation of the belly rub the manlover is about to bestow on him.  Coddled little creatures.

You’re welcome.

As with the original green goddess soup I made, this soup was quite the refrigerator soup: onions, carrots, zucchini, kale, spinach — anything we had on hand was added to the pot.  I even added a parmesan rind to the stock as it simmered for good measure.  As for the bright Asian flavors, I used garlic, ginger, green curry paste, and miso paste.  But not in that order.

First I sautéed a whole diced onion with two small carrots in some canola oil.  Once they were softened, I added a couple small cloves of garlic and about an inch of ginger, diced.  I then added two small zucchini (chopped), six cups of water, all the split peas I had on hand (about 3/4 cup), a heaping teaspoon of green curry paste, and a leftover parmesan rind I’d been saving for my next soup.  I covered and simmered for 20-25 minutes or so.

Once the soup was aromatic and all the veggies cooked through, I added 6-8 dinosaur kale leaves (chopped) and 4 gigantic fistfuls of spinach.  The kale and the spinach blanched instantaneously into a gorgeous vibrant green.  I blended the soup, added a heaping tablespoon of miso paste (stirring to dissolve and combine), and blended some more.  Voilá.

Served with a healthy dollop of Greek yogurt, a light dusting of cayenne pepper (I intentionally left chilies out of the soup in the hopes that the landlord might have some, but alas), and a drizzle of sesame oil.  The same bright and zesty flavors as in the ginger miso carrot, but heartier.  A gorgeous soup you can feel good about eating any day of the year.  Especially after a gluttonous trip to New York.

Some nights I luck out: I don’t feel like cooking and the landlord does.  Those nights are udon nights.  Behold:

You can see why I clamor for udon at least once a week.  Sautéed with any (and every) green vegetable we have on hand, together with garlic and ginger and sweet soy sauce.  Broccoli, asparagus, edamame, and spinach mingled with sticky, chewy udon noodles.  Sweet, salty, bursting with flavor and a little zing from the ginger.  Comfort food at its finest.