All About the Process
Sometimes we make it more complicated than it needs to be
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DISH: The Process Is Its Own Reward
Much like us, the food processor grew up in the 70s. That’s when home cooks learned knife skills could be replicated with a machine that was also dishwasher-safe. For us, kitchen technology had to be long-considered (and was usually rejected). We were a Slow Food kitchen before the term “Slow Food” even existed. So its arrival was probably something of an outlier. Microwave technology made its way to us a good amount of time later. Even the Easy-Bake Oven was a solid no, which is probably why Jen’s daughter had at least two, one of which was never even used, as she discovered when they moved. And cable TV? Well, that’s a story for another day. But somehow the processor captured our mom’s imagination. Maybe its French origins helped. After it was introduced for commercial use in the early sixties, Pierre Verdon slimmed down the technology for a domestic, kitchen-friendly version called Le Magi-Mix. In the US, inventor Carl Sontheimer refined that to bring us the Cuisinart in 1971. It’s been 50 years of reliability, and yet we recently discussed which brand processor Jen should get after her last Cuisinart died in the middle of beating egg whites for a ricotta cheesecake. There’s nothing worse than hearing the motor grind to a halt, knowing your whites will never make it to the requisite air-filled peaks. Jen finished the cheesecake anyway – it was her husband’s first pandemic birthday cake (yes, there has been, unfortunately, another pandemic birthday since then) – and it came out of the oven predictably flat. But it tasted great, like the inside of a blintz. To be fair, that Cuisinart had survived for 20 years at Mango House, and was efficient at handling an inordinate amount of mango condiments that Jen preserved every summer. It was a workhorse. Betsy’s performed even longer, for nearly three decades, but its last piece broke irretrievably on its way from New Jersey to Ohio. Both of us tried to survive without investing again. Jen had succumbed to her desire for a Vitamix, and figured with that power blender, plus an old mini-chop or two still on hand, she could make do. Betsy was attempting, as always, to reduce clutter. But each of us gave in when confronted with a roadblock recipe. Betsy’s was pesto. Make it by hand? Never. So she headed to Bed Bath & Beyond ahead of an Italian-themed dinner party. For Jen, who is now developing recipes and testing kitchen equipment for a few different brands, it was the good old deep-dish crumb pie crust. You just can’t make two cups of crumbs in a Vitamix. Force of nature though it is, it requires some kind of liquid for blending. So last week we discussed what food processor Jen should buy. Little-known fact: She “bought” her first food processor as a junior in college with bonus points from a cookbook club, and that one survived past MFA degrees, marriage, and the birth of at least one child. Still, there was never really a contention. We settled for the proven winner. For curious minds, Betsy voted for the 14-cup Cuisinart. Jen got the 8-cup, though, with that Vitamix still hovering in the back of her mind.
For those who have never used a food processor – and there are some cooks who have not – its ordinary uses are pretty impressive (if you’re not chopping purists). Here’s a small sample. • Tear-free onion chopping • The aforementioned pesto – garlic first, then toasted nuts and salt, basil, oil, cheese • Mincing parsley and other herbs • Also aforementioned, crumbs from bread or cookies • Pie dough • Salad dressings (blenders work for those, too) • Shredding potatoes instead of knuckles • Fresh mayonnaise – use the tube to stream the oil for perfect blending • Salsa fresca/pico de gallo – use the pulse button for preferred consistency • Really lovely hummus – cook the chickpeas first so that you can skim the skins off for a velvety texture Of course, all of the above can be achieved with muscle, ingenuity, and some other machines. But there is no reason to trade something in that’s worked well so far. So happy golden anniversary to our shining workhorse of the kitchen. We’re looking forward to celebrating with diamonds and chopped alliums 25 years from now.
BK / JK
DISH: Recipes
Boozy Granita
Don’t be tempted to double down on the brandy. The flavor really carries as is. Instead, if you’re feeling frisky and want to convert the granita to a slushy, top it with a bit of Prosecco or any sparkly wine. And, of course, drink with care to avoid brain freeze. 4 peaches, peeled and cut into chunks ¼ cup sugar 1/3 cup water 1 tablespoon apricot brandy Pinch salt To peel the peaches, cut an X in the base. Drop into boiling water for 10-15 seconds. Remove and peel. Blend all ingredients until smoothish; no need to be perfect. Put into a non-reactive, freezer safe bowl. Every half hour or so, scrape the solids with a fork. It takes about 2-3 hours to granita.
BK
Use What You’ve Got Gazpacho
Sheer laziness plus a yellow cherry tomato surplus equals a search for gazpacho. This riff on a Giada recipe fits the bill. I replaced the apple cider vinegar with a generous tablespoon of cherry vinegar. The gluten-free version was a little thin, so I added a slice of Italian, crust and all. Less is more on the shallot. Same is true for the hot sauce. I cut mine in half. Also, I added a mystery pepper from the garden instead of a Serrano, which I lacked. In a food processor, blend everything together. Chill for a couple of hours before serving. Takes 10 minutes to prep! Note from Jen: You can use any fruit to replace tomatoes in your gazpacho. I used to make gallons of mango-spacho every summer. If you blend and cook the mango to reduce impurities, then let it cool before adding other ingredients, you get a thicker, more consistent pulp as well.
BK
RIP: Loki Cross, 12/25/2004-8/25/2021
To the one who knew that avocados make your fur shine: We will all miss you, sweet boy. 
JK
DISH: Recap and Coming Soon
Betsy has been in the digital world teaching culinary, mixology, and floral skills. She's also teaching a publicly available cheese board class for Alice's Table; for more information and to sign up, click here. Fully vaccinated, she's back to planning events too. You can hire her for both by contacting her at betsy@theportablegarden.com.
Jen's article on real balsamic vinegar from Modena was published in HuffPost and syndicated on Yahoo.com. A slide show on dip recipes for tailgate parties appeared in AllRecipes. Speaking of which, on August 7, Jen's articles for AllRecipes, published in 2020, were awarded second place in the food-travel category for the Society of Professional Journalism Sunshine State Awards. On August 24, her most recent full-length book of poems, The Burning Where Breath Used to Be, won the Colorado Independent Publishers Association EVVY Award for poetry; Mom Egg Review featured a new review of the book as well. Her unpublished chapbook, Weathering, placed as a finalist for the Two Sylvias Prize. And her poem, "Snowbirds," appeared in The Fourth River. Coming Soon: Jen's developing recipes for AllRecipes and Cheryl's Cookies as well as testing kitchen equipment for BobVila.com. A travel piece on Miami Beach will appear on Insider. Two food articles, one on caviar and one on a local chef, are forthcoming in a new magazine, Lifestyles South Florida. More on testicular cancer and reproductive health are forthcoming in Giddy. Poems from her sixth full-length work-in-progress will appear in Aji Magazine, The Comstock Review, DIALOGIST, Escutcheon Review, K’in, Matter, Mom Egg Review, Pirene’s Fountain, River Heron Review, Rogue Agent, UCity Review, and The Westchester Review, as well as couple of anthologies, one on the pandemic and one on disabilities.You can hire her for writing by contacting her at kavetchnik@gmail.com. Visit her website at jkaretnick.com.
DISH: Poetry
I wrote this one after our first pup, S'more, passed away, but it could have just as easily have been about Loki. They were together since they were 8 weeks old, scavenging fruit in the yard. Now they're together again.
It’s about the dog, but not really about the dog,
which is why I continue to cry at odd moments popping up in my day like advertisements on social media several weeks after we found her dead in her crate, a cold log of dachshund, the other two dogs who had slept there with her for fourteen years eager to scramble out and pee on the fallen toast of palm fronds outside, come back in to crunch kibble and take another nap, do all the normal dog things that they do, as if they didn’t notice anything wrong. It’s about how they knew, having curled around her body sinking into that foreign place all night, but also about how they really didn’t know, or want to understand, how they look up at me now every time I walk in the door, my arms empty of her, then settle their heads on their paws with a single, mutual sigh, and give her plot on the cushion the girth of a large belt. Or it’s about how I project these feelings onto them, the loss, the space, the childhoods she held in her comedian’s body of both of my kids and the length of time that we lived in this house that we can now clean of her final traces to put on the market for a family with babies and different kinds of pets, who want an acre of yard with too many mango trees and scenery that Facebook identifies as India instead of Miami. It’s about the mangoes, which the dachshund scavenged for only one season and inexplicably never ate again, but also not really about the mangoes, which I don’t have energy to gather anymore; she preferred the half-rotten avocadoes anyway, sneaking over to the pair of trees marking the property line by the fence every time I let all three dogs out at night, coming back with the mottled shell of fruit in her snout, or the sugary sapodillas, brown as rats, rooting like a pig in the brush as if for truffles. It’s about this nest but really also not about this nest, emptying though not vacant yet, built by a raptor though I am now a sparrow or whatever kind of bird a bird of prey hunts. But oh, how I recall that raptor, how I still want to eagle the sky and look down on the world the way I did when I felt it owed me something enormous that I didn’t have to earn or catalogue or think about the day I would have to downsize it away.
Previously published in Sweet: Lit and forthcoming in Hunger Until It's Pain (Salmon Poetry, 2023).
JK