Can I Just Brag for a Moment?

I am an awesome cook. I have not always been an awesome cook, but currently, I am an awesome cook. I was bored today and after watching several reruns of Top Chef, I decided to cook something. My mom picked up a couple cartons of ricotta cheese a while back, I have no idea why, but I decided to use one of them. So I found a recipe for Ricotta Gnocchi with Brown Butter Sauce. I made a few changes, so here ya go.

Ricotta Gnocchi with Brown Butter Sauce

5 tbsp butter
1 1/2 tsp sage
salt
crushed black pepper
15 oz ricotta chese
6 tbsp grated parmesan cheese
3/4 c chopped parsley
1 tbsp rosemary
all-purpose flour

Directions:
Melt 3 tbsp butter, sage, 1/4 tsp of crushed black pepper and 1/4 tsp of salt together on medium heat. Remove from burner when it is golden brown – be careful not to overcook it. Set aside (still in pot).

In a medium bowl combine ricotta, parmesan, parsley, and rosemary. When these ingredients are thoroughly combined, begin adding flour. As you add flour, mix the dough by hand until it is a dough like consistency but still slightly moist/sticky.

Take small balls of ricotta mixture and form into small shells. (Pieces should be about 3/4″ around.) As you are forming the balls, bring 4 qts of water to a boil in a 5 qt pot. When the water is at a rolling boil, drop several pieces of the ricotta mix in the pot and let boil for about 3 minutes. (Gnocchi will float to the top as it cooks.) Remove with a slotted spoon, drain water off, and place in a dish. Continue adding sets of gnocchi to the pot and cooking for 3 minutes. When finished, all the gnocchi should be in your serving dish.

Take the butter mixture you set aside earlier and put it back on the burner. Add another 2 tbsp of butter, a pinch of sage and a bit of salt and pepper. Allow this to brown (mix slowly and sparingly). When butter is browned, pour it over the gnocchi and gently toss. Sprinkle some parmesan over top and it’s ready to go!

Note: If you’re working with picky eaters, you may want to use finely ground sage. I picked out the larger leaves and stems when the dish was done, but more adventurous eaters shouldn’t mind it.

Voila. Enjoy. (It was delicious, although I added too much flour, so I learned from my mistakes!)

From the Netherlands…

My last post got me thinking about my visit to the Netherlands (in summer of 04 and 06) and I decided to share some information with whoever you are about it. It was an awesome trip, and if you’re ever in Europe, you should go.

#1. Stroopwafels. (Pronounced strope-vafels) These are possibly the most delicious thing I have ever put in my mouth. It’s kind of a thin wafer sandwich, with these really buttery delicious wafers, and then a buttery caramel substance inside. Probably not great if you’re on a diet, but they’re excellent. (Note: I’m not a coffee lover, but those on the team that were would place a Stroopwafel over their steaming coffee, which would melt the caramel inside, and then they dipped it in their coffee. They said it was to die for.)

#2. Magnum Bars. You can find these in any convenience store in the Netherlands (and I’m pretty sure throughout Europe.) At first glance it appears to be just your everyday chocolate covered vanilla ice cream bar, but do not be fooled! I don’t know what it is, but you will never be the same. Eat one. (And probably just one, because rumor has it the bar has at least 20 grams of fat.) Seriously, please go to Europe and eat one and then comment my blog telling me I was right.

#3. Coffee Shops. Let me be very clear on one thing. You have your cafés. And then you have your coffee shops. Cafés are a nice place to sit down with friends, have a cup of delicious European coffee, perhaps a sandwich or a Magnum Bar. Coffee shops are a nice place to sit down with friends and have some weed or special brownies. Cafés = coffee. Coffee Shops = coffee and marijuana. The end.

#4. Drop. If a very excited Dutch person, whether in America or in the Netherlands, tells you to try some Drop because it is the best food ever, try it at your own risk. Certainly one huge cultural difference. The Dutch love their black licorice, and it comes in several different flavors. We received Drop as a gift at several of the churches we visited, and while I enjoyed some of the flavors, I wouldn’t describe it as my favorite. The flavors range from a mild honey flavored black licorice to an intense salty flavor. It’s weird. I’m not saying they have gross tastes, just very different. So you should try it to experience it, but don’t get your hopes up.

#5. Beverage Sizes. One thing you will quickly learn about Americans (while in the Netherlands) is that we are a gluttonous bunch. Ask for a meal supersized in Europe, and you will get a blank stare. Ask for a large and you may get the same. The regular drink size with a meal (fast food or restaurant) is the size of America’s child size drink. Your best bet is to buy a bottle of water and refill it with tap water. But don’t go looking for a 40 oz Diet Coke over there. You won’t find it. (And we wonder why they’re so thin…) (Side note. About a year ago a couple from the Netherlands came to visit our church for a while. We went out to eat with them, and they were astonished at the size of the drinks. This was Steak n Shake, so it’s not like they were huge by our standards, but they couldn’t figure out how people were expected to drink so much.) Oh and don’t expect free refills.

#6. Advertising. If you are traveling with a church group or children, this is especially important. Here in America, our ’sexual’ advertising is subtle at best. We may have a slogan on a billboard that some people understand but others don’t, or perhaps an image that leaves hardly anything to the imagination. Just note that in the Netherlands, well, let’s just say the marketing execs over there don’t really worry about that. You will see lots of posters, pictures, and interesting souvenirs that would be considered inappropriate in America, but are pretty normal over there.

#7. Orange Juice. If you come across a machine that looks like a gumball machine, except is filled with oranges, STOP IMMEDIATELY, go into the store that has it, and ask for some orange juice. You will buy a bottle, a small one or a large one, and then put it under the machine, which when turned on, slices and squeezes the fresh oranges so that you have a bottle of fresh squeezed oj. It’s to die for.

#8. Be prepared to get run over. Cars don’t stop for pedestrians. Bikes don’t stop for pedestrians. Busses don’t stop for pedestrians. Nobody stops for pedestrians. So stay out of the way!

Ok well that’s all I can think of right now. I completely loved the Netherlands, the people were wonderful, the weather was amazing, and the food…yeah I think I’ve talked enough about that. If you visit let me know so we can swap stories!

Ticked.

May I divert from the world of web posting to tackle a somewhat more dire issue.

Kenya.

Here’s the weird thing. I don’t know anybody in Kenya. To my knowledge, I don’t know anybody who knows anybody in Kenya. I know there is civil unrest there right now, I know it’s more horrific than anything I have ever imagined. The crazy thing is, I’ve started having dreams about it.

Dream #1: I am with a lot of wonderful and highly respected people from my church. In Africa, perhaps Kenya, perhaps elsewhere. We are there to help, maybe. We are captured and are held in a large room, and we begin singing, praying, etc. In my dream, I am worried about those I love and the fact I won’t get to tell the goodbye. The room is divided in two; my half is taken into a separate room. We continue praying. I am scared, I know I should be honored to die in defense of my faith, yet I am scared. I wake up just after a gun is pointed at my face. I wake up sweating and heaving.

Dream #2: I am again, in Africa. (Let me take a moment here to mention that several of my friends have immigrated to the U.S. from Zimbabwe. These are incredible people who saw things I cannot imagine in my worst nightmares.) I don’t know where I am, but I am surrounded by homes and churches. My best friend is there. I watch her get killed right in front of me. I am powerless to do anything about it.

Both of these dreams were completely unexpected – to be honest, I hadn’t really been thinking about the situation all that much. But I woke up from both dreams very disturbed, trying to talk myself down by remembering that they were only dreams. Only.

However, the realization that those dreams are reality for the nation of Kenya right now chills me. I wake up from these dreams, safe in my incredibly comfortable bed, listening to my fan gently tell me that there is nothing to fear. I know that when I glance at my door, there will not be a shadow there, but simply a glow from the lamp down the hall. The people of Kenya are not so lucky. They do not wake up from these nightmares.

All this to bring up a very disturbing article I read today. (Please take a moment to check it out.) Valentine’s Day. Valentine’s Day coming up and we may not have enough roses. We may not have flower stores overflowing with beautiful flowers because of the bloodshed happening in Kenya.

I will be honest, I do understand what the article is saying. Flowers are a huge export industry for Kenya, and not being able to export them strikes a blow on their economy. But when I read the article, this was the scenario that my mind jumped to.

Setting: Feb 13, Random Flower Store.
Customer: I need a dozen roses!
Cashier: Sure thing, sir. Good thing you came in when you did, we’re about out!
Customer: Out of roses for Valentine’s Day?
Cashier: Yeah, I heard it’s because of what’s going on in Kenya…

Petty, perhaps. I am just really tired of our culture of being concerned with how things affect US. God forbid I might not get my Valentine’s Day flowers, while the nation of Kenya is being ripped apart and people are watching their loved ones die.

It’s so easy to remove ourselves from the situation. But tonight, as you lie in bed, allow your mind to wander for just a moment. Allow fear to grip you at the thought of waking up to your house burning, or to a person with a knife or gun at your throat. Imagine, just for a moment, the safety of your home being violated and your children having to watch their parents killed. Or you having to watch your parents killed. It sounds so morbid…but if we never even take the time to consider what these people are feeling, how can we say we care?

May our hearts break for them to the point of action. And when you receive or see roses this Valentine’s Day, remember the places they may have seen.