Shake and bake: Coronavirus, Day 50ish

It’s officially eight weeks into the “Stay Home, Stay Safe” directive here in Asheville, NC, and today I had the most epic day of mishaps thus far.

In North Carolina, Governor Roy Cooper and state officials tout the three Ws as “flattening the curve” practices. I’d like to propose a fourth, inspired by the opening line of most of actor Leslie Jordan’s Instagram posts.

“Well, shit.”

That’s my motto. Casual, to the point, and very much over it all. (This being said, I am aware of my privilege to work from home and remain inconvenienced thus far, and I send much love and respect to those who cannot.)

Ouch

First I woke up with a sore neck. What could I have done? I quit doing half-assed yoga weeks ago!

Then I remembered last night I washed a particularly gritty bag of romaine lettuce using my salad spinner. I recall thinking at the time, "This is why I don’t use this Ikea spinner that often. This thing is stubborn and churns like a cement mixer.” I must have over-aggressively spun the salad. Ridiculous, right?

That makes me both embarrassed and amused. Is there a word for that? “Embused?” I am feeling VERY embused right now.

So you think you can dance. Yeah no.

I decided to break out of my routine of walking around the neighborhood and occasional yoga videos to try a little more cardio. Or some cardio at all. I found a hip hop dance video on YouTube listed as beginner, but I am not so sure. Even after the fourth or fifth time repeating each step, I was a lost sweaty mess.

I think there’s a feature to slow the video down to a snail’s pace. Is there also one that gives you the grace and coordination you just weren’t born with? I’d like to enable that, please.

Spice fail

After my workout, I made lunch, thinking a rice bowl with greens and roasted chickpeas would be a healthy choice. Feeling very smug and nope, not thinking at all about the chocolate bars or Oreos in the pantry, I seasoned my skillet with a little oil and cumin. Or what I thought was cumin.

Turns out you should NOT place your ground cumin and cinnamon next to one another on your spice rack. I knew when a waft of sweetly scented spice hit my nose, I’d made a big mistake. Luckily I rinsed the chickpeas and started over and they were fine, but I hate the idea of wasting food, especially these days.

Doh, Dough!

Tonight I’m making an Italian kale and sausage soup because the weather reverted back to February this weekend (low of 30 degrees tonight!), so I figured I’d try making focaccia again. My first and very mediocre effort was a few weeks ago, motivated by everyone else’s sudden desire for gluten during a pandemic. Carbs are comforting, but I never felt baking was in my wheelhouse. I can safely say that is very much still true. It's probably the whole thing about being patient and exact. Not really my top traits in the kitchen (or elsewhere, but I am a marvelous work in progress, ok?)

I began with a rosemary focaccia recipe from Moosewood Restaurant. After leaving the dough shrouded under a damp towel for about 2 hours, it was as flat as when it started. Lord, it had not risen. A cursory Google search confirms you can’t just microwave water ’til it boils and then add your yeast. Likely the water temperature was too warm and killed it. I murdered my yeast, y’all.

So I saved the dough - maybe it can be a very nice rosemary biscuit or pizza? - and got out the Food Bible, also known as The Joy of Cooking. Last weekend I made some decent JOC flatbreads that were supposed to be pitas (yes, I know, I’m catching on that this might not be my “thing”). I had just enough flour to complete the focaccia recipe, which makes two dough balls, so I had extra opportunities to be a completely awful baker.

The good news: the dough balls rose. We have lift-off! 

Dough mingling with seedlings in a warm spot, like you do. 

I roasted some garlic heads to add to the dough, and I will use the last of my dried rosemary for the focaccia. We have some mozzarella, tomato, arugula and local balsamic reduction for a side salad. Fortunately I asked Scott for a bottle or two of red wine during his grocery run last night, and he came home with an enormous jug of Rex Goliath Pinot Noir that is super classy. Bad bakers can’t be choosers, right? Bartender, make mine a double.

Cheers, stay safe and well, and let me know what you’re cooking (or baking) these days.