The freezer.

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Michael Ruhlman has an interesting post today on the “freezer pantry” – things you keep in your freezer so you always have them on hand to add to dishes. I’ve been doing something similar for years now, although I had never thought of tomato paste as freeze-able. (I’ll certainly try it now, because I never go through a can of tomato paste – something I only use occasionally – before it passes its prime.)

Here’s my list of freezer staples, some of which overlap with his:

    • Bacon. I buy a package, use what I need right away, roll up each individual slice, and bag them. Rolling them separately makes it easier to pull out just the number of slices I need, and they thaw quickly if you dunk them (in a plastic bag) in cool water because of all the surface area.
      Chicken stock. I freeze it in one-cup and three-cup containers. You can really never have enough of this stuff. I usually have at least one chicken carcass in my freezer for the next batch. Right now I have three. I also keep frozen bits of vegetables that might go into the stock – ends of celery, peppers, and onions that I wouldn’t include in a dish but that still have plenty of flavor for a stock.
      Oat bran. You should keep whole grains in your freezer, and mine is full of them: brown rice, barley, whole-grain coarsely-ground cornmeal (better for polenta than what’s sold as “polenta”), and whole wheat flour, at a minimum. I love the taste of oat bran and, given its nutritional benefits, like to add it to all kinds of baked goods. My wife was hooked on Trader Joes’ pumpkin bread in the fall, and I found that you could add 2 Tbsp of oat bran without affecting the texture of the finished product.
      Raw nuts. Again, like whole grains, they can go rancid. Toasted or roasted nuts can lose a little something in the freezer, but raw nuts need to be toasted before you use them, so the freezer is a great spot, and they never freeze together.
      Pancakes. Granted, not an ingredient, and more about feeding the toddler than about actual cooking. But pancakes, cooled on a rack, freeze beautifully and separate easily. For my daughter, I put two on a plate, microwave about 30 seconds, top with pure maple syrup, then nuke for about ten more seconds.
      Lemon juice. Buy a separate ice tray for this. You cut a lemon to get a bit of juice and have half a lemon left over. Squeeze out the rest, measure out 1 Tbsp increments, freeze each in its own compartment, pop them out and bag them. (Don’t leave them in the tray. I have no idea what the process at work is, but they shrivel and become gummy. It won’t happen in a bag with most/all of the air sucked out.) You can do the same thing with egg whites, although I don’t recommend freezing these for more than a few weeks.
      Legumes and corn. Right now, I have frozen peas, lima beans, and corn in my freezer, which is about my minimum. I never cook any of these on their own, but include them in all kinds of stews, soups, and rice dishes. If you have rice, an onion, peas, and corn, you have everything you need for a great and colorful pilaf.
  • I know a lot of people swear by food-saver devices; I bought the inexpensive Reynolds Handi-Vac, because I couldn’t bring myself to buy a $100 device (that’s eight pounds of coffee! nine or ten new books!) that would just take up more space. It works very well on dry goods, and it works quickly. I would link to Amazon, but you’re better off getting it at Target.

    Peter Reinhart’s bread-baking books.

    Quick update first: I finished Kavalier & Clay today and hope to post a writeup before Thursday’s Klawchat, which will be at 1 pm. Also, my ranking of the top 100 prospects is tentatively scheduled to go up on January 22nd.

    I got two bread-baking books by Peter Reinhart for Christmas: The Bread Baker’s Apprentice and Whole Grain Breads. Having read both and made two recipes from them, I can give both a very high recommendation.

    I’ve made two recipes so far from the whole grains book: pizza dough and hearth bread, both with 100% whole wheat flour. The recipes worked as advertised, which, for bread recipes, is in and of itself remarkable. Pizza dough has long been a culinary bugbear of mine, as a pizza dough that can be stretched to authentic Italian paper-thin proportions must have excellent gluten development to avoid tearing during the stretching and shaping process. I’ve tried many recipes – including two stalwart sources, Joy of Cooking and Alton Brown – and none has worked; in fact, Reinhart argues that using table sugar in bread doughs is a waste of time, because it’s too complex for yeast to eat, which explains why Brown’s pizza dough (which includes 2 Tbsp sugar) doesn’t rise well and ends up very sweet. So for the last two or three years, I’ve bought white-flour doughs at Trader Joes and Whole Foods; I’ve tried Trader Joes’ whole-wheat dough, but it really lacks gluten and tears too easily to stretch it.

    Reinhart’s whole wheat pizza doughs rolled thin enough that I could see light through them and they were almost cracker-like after baking, which is a very Italian-style pizza crust. (I do like New York-style pizza, where the dough is thicker and has a little more tooth, but Italian pizza is my favorite.) If that isn’t enough to sell you, consider this: Reinhart’s “delayed fermentation” method, which he uses for all of his breads, requires less kneading than any other bread recipes I’ve seen by relying on time, refrigeration, and the power of water to break down the starches and sugars in flour to give the dough strength and flavor.

    The Apprentice book focuses on bread-making basics, with an emphasis on method and formula rather than just recipes. Reinhart discusses the twelve stages of bread-making; necessary (and unnecessary) equipment; and the science of bread, with explanations of the different types of yeast, flour, sweeteners, and so on. (The whole-grains book goes into more detail on the differences among ingredients.) He also walks you through creation of a wild-yeast starter and through the basic steps to create sponge starters like bigas and poolishes, on which he builds most of the breads in the two books.

    The books include just about every yeast bread I could want to bake, including hearth breads, sandwich breads, rye breads, challah, brioche, bagels, English muffin, and baguettes, as well as several international breads with which I was unfamiliar. He also includes a few crackers, including graham crackers and seeded whole-wheat crackers, and corn bread, which is chemically leavened. Together, they form a reference work that gives a real education in the art and science of baking great bread. If you don’t care about whole-grain baking (it’s not just 100% whole wheat, but multigrain breads including all sorts of grains in flour and kernel forms), just get Apprentice, but I recommend both if you want to add more whole grains to your diet.

    At least he’s consistent.

    Jay Paris screws up a ballot.

    Again.

    (Hat tip to Jeff from Rotowire.)

    Happy New Year.

    Many of you already know there’s been some medical drama in the Law household this week, and I probably won’t be updating the site or commenting on it until next week at the earliest. Everyone is fine now, but we’re still playing catch-up.

    In the meantime, here’s a fun article on the origins of twenty of the most popular Muppets.

    Summer Lightning.

    “Have you ever tasted a mint julep, Beach?”
    “Not to my recollection, sir.”
    “Oh, you’d remember all right if you had. Insidious things. They creep up to you like a baby sister and slide their little hands into yours and the next thing you know the Judge is telling you to pay the clerk of the court fifty dollars.”

    I’ve waxed poetic about the joys of P.G. Wodehouse before, but I think I’m due to push those of you who haven’t dipped into one of the greatest comic writers in the history of the printed word to do so. I’ve actually started to change my opinion on Wodehouse; after years of seeing the Jeeves/Wooster series as his masterworks, I’m coming around to the Blandings Castle series as the funnier books.

    Summer Lightning is the third novel in the Blandings series (although there are some short stories set in between the second book, Leave it to Psmith, and this one), although they don’t really have to be read in sequence. It might be the funniest one of the six I’ve read, because it includes all of the key characters – the Efficient Baxter, Lady Constance, Galahad Threepwood, and, of course, the Empress of Blandings – and provides enough other plot strands to move the story beyond the typical Wodehouse framework of two couples whose engagements are blocked by the poor financial prospects of the would-be groom and an eventual misunderstanding that causes one party to break it off.

    The Jeeves/Wooster novels and stories are brilliant, but the Blandings Castle series’ ensemble cast gives more opportunities for humor and also avoids overtaxing characters that might seem a little thinly drawn if given too much stage time. In addition, the presence of a true villain in Lady Constance Keeble, who disapproves of every match, despises her brother Galahad and looks down on her other brother Lord Emsworth, gives the Blandings novels more narrative greed than the typical Jeeves story, where the biggest question is usually how Jeeves intends to extract Wooster from impending nuptials, although Roderick Spode and the pilfered cow creamer do stand as counterexamples.

    Next up: As many of you have begged me to do, I’ve started Michael Chabon’s The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay.

    The Riddle of the Compass.

    Amir Aczel’s The Riddle of the Compass: The Invention that Changed the World isn’t as strong as his first two books, Fermat’s Last Theorem (a very math-heavy book but one that relies on the centuries-long efforts to solve that problem for narrative greed) and God’s Equation (a more accessible work about great “blunder” by Albert Einstein that turned out to be correct). Although the story within Compass is mildly interesting, the book – just 159 pages in paperback, including diagrams and a few blank pages between chapters – is so superficial that we get neither story nor an interesting character. In fact, the predominant character in the book probably never existed.

    Aczel argues that the compass was, at the time it was invented, the most important invention since the wheel, and produces a reasonable case for the argument while splitting time between the western “invention” of the compass and the evidence for a much earlier invention in China, where the device was used in medicine and by magicians but seldom if ever used for navigation in a country that rarely took to the sea. He takes a detour into Italian history, including an interesting chapter on Amalfi (now known as a tourist mecca, but briefly a maritime power and a flourishing city-state) that is itself a digression from the early inquiry into the alleged inventor of the compass, Flavio Gioia. It seems likely that Gioia himself never existed, and while it’s amusing to see how a missing comma could lead to the creation of a historical personage, it’s not much of a basis for a book.

    Aczel accentutates the problem by himself glossing over details that, even if tangential, would add color to the book. While bemoaning both the west’s dismissive and patronizing treatment of Chinese culture during for most of the last millennium and China’s refusal (under multiple regimes) to reveal many scientific and medical secrets, he mentions the very recent discovery that an herb that Chinese doctors have long used as a treatment for malaria has had promising results in tests in western studies. He never mentions the plant’s name (it’s a type of wormwood known by the Latin name Artemisia annua) and lets the matter drop after the one-paragraph teaser.

    Next up: A little Wodehouse for the holidays, with a trip to Blandings Castle in Summer Lightning , available only in the compilation Life at Blandings.

    “Girls were also romancing each other.”

    Now that I have your attention, go read the excellent New York Times article from which I took the title quote. It’s about the recruiting of a star high school football player, and let’s just say that the University of Texas’ PR department is probably displeased with the Gray Lady this week.

    (Hat tip: Infinite Sportswriter Theorem.)

    UPDATE: Texas fans and supporters are questioning the veracity of the recruit’s claims about Texas – shocking – and the Texas section of rivals.com has a retort (but not a disproof – more of a claim that the Times writer is biased against Texas) here.

    UPDATE #2: The recruit himself is now backing away from some parts of the English-class essay that was quoted in the Times article.

    Legs.

    William Kennedy’s Legs, the first of his “Albany” novels (one of which, Ironweed , won the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction in 1984), is a fictionalized biography of the Prohibition-era bootlegger Jack “Legs” Diamond, using a number of other real people in Diamond’s orbit as characters to give a picture of the life and culture of upstate New York in the late 1920s and early 1930s. As a period piece, it’s very successful, but as a novel, it’s less so.

    The novel opens with a discussion thirty-odd years after Diamond’s death, leading into a series of remembrances of Diamond’s life from his emergence as the main bootlegger in the Hudson Valley until his murder. Kennedy evokes the era by using the vernacular of the time and threading alcohol through every scene (did people drink more during Prohibition, or is that just in the literature of the time?), and I admit that I’m a sucker for books written in this time period. From Fitzgerald to Hammett and just about everything in between, I’m riveted by books about the Roaring Twenties and life under the Volstead Act, so I enjoyed Legs on a superficial level.

    By posing as a biography, Legs loses something in the way of plot. Diamond is simply careening from one event to the next – a shooting, a trial, a tiff with his wife (Alice) or mistress (Kiki) – without any clear cohesiveness or upward trajectory to the story. Jack’s character doesn’t develop at all, nor does that of the narrator, Marcus, who remains as detached at the end of the book as he is at the beginning. It makes for an interesting read, but in the last few pages, I found myself wondering what the point was.

    If there’s any point at all, it revolves around Marcus, who begins the novel as a successful lawyer on the rise in Albany circles, with an eye towards a career in state government. A chance encounter leads him to become Jack’s lawyer, and he becomes a consigliere to Jack up to the gangster’s death, all the while telling Jack he doesn’t want any part of this scheme or that plan while going along with them. Is Kennedy trying to tell us that we all have the capacity to talk ourselves into going along with something we know is wrong or is a bad idea? Is he detailing the journey of a man disaffected by success and society who looks for a more dangerous path to bring some excitement into his life? These feel like stretches to me, since neither theme is all that well explored with Marcus telling stories about Jack that often don’t directly involve him.

    Next up: A brief nonfiction read, Amir Aczel’s The Riddle of the Compass: The Invention that Changed the World.

    Want to get dumber?

    Then read this, an article by an self-proclaimed ethicist on why no one signed Barry Bonds. He compares Bonds to a murderer, a convict, and a drug abuser; misunderstands the purpose of the Mitchell Report (it was about getting Congress to back off, and perhaps scoring some PR points); and argues that teams also didn’t sign Bonds because he wasn’t a good bet to “duplicate” his previous performances, even though a 20% drop in performance would still make him obscenely valuable.

    I thought THT took a great step forward in adding Craig Calcaterra’s Shysterball blog – among my must-reads every day – but content like this “ethics” article is just inexcusable.

    UPDATE: The article’s author, Jack Marshall, posted a lengthy rejoinder in the comments below.

    Five laughable sports leagues.

    My editors at ESPN have always hammered home one point, even mentioning it before I was hired: Readers love lists. That’s why we rank everything – prospects, draft prospects, free agents, and so on. And I guess I’m just as susceptible as any other reader, since I was sucked into Mental Floss’s various lists (discovered by way of Shysterball), including their list of 5 Sports Leagues That Didn’t Make It, including Roller Hockey International and the WFL.

    I’m curious why they stopped at five, though. I’ve always been fascinated by the business of sports leagues – a sort of empires rising and falling without all the war and death and backstabbing (okay, some backstabbing) – particularly the ways in which they respond to success (overexpansion, usually) and setbacks. I imagine this economy will prove particularly tough going for some of the fringe leagues out there, such as the National Lacrosse League, which hasn’t exactly been a hallmark of stability but is still going after 22 years with one of its original franchises still extant. (I’ve been to probably half a dozen NLL games, although none since the original Boston Blazers went under in 1997.)

    Anyway, here are five other leagues that didn’t make it and included some silliness:

    • The North American Soccer League. This league did at least have a peak, packing Giants Stadium for New York Cosmos games and employing some of the best players in the world, including Pele, but they expanded like crazy, ran up huge debts, tried to run a winter indoor season to compete with the similarly ill-fated MISL, and – worst of all – named a team the Tea Men, which was marginally acceptable when they were in New England, but just plain stupid when the team moved to Jacksonville and kept the nickname.
    • The American Lacrosse League. This ALL didn’t finish its first season, in 1988, because the entire operation was a financial scam run by the two founders. As if that wasn’t bizarre enough, the league included five teams in the northeast … and one in Denver. That’s a good way to manage your travel costs.
    • The National Professional Soccer League. Originally called the American Indoor Soccer Association, the NPSL used a weird scoring system where goals could be worth more points if they were shot from farther away. It didn’t help.
    • Major League Volleyball. A women’s volleyball league that lasted a year and a half, and part of the now-quaint trend of giving women’s sports teams feminine names like the Dallas Belles. I actually am surprised that there hasn’t been an effort to start a men’s professional volleyball league in the United States; while it may always be a fringe sport, it’s very popular in other countries (face it – we are a country of people from other countries), is fun to watch, and doesn’t require construction of giant or single-use facilities. But if there’s been a financially successful women’s pro league in any sport in the U.S., it’s news to me – and no, the WNBA doesn’t count.
    • World Basketball League. Another of my all-time favorite wacko sports leagues, for two reasons. First, the league had a height restriction: Players over 6’5″ were ineligible to play in the league. Second, the league was funded with money the founder had embezzled from his other company, the discount pharmacy chain Phar-Mor. I thought that Bo Jackson was drafted by an Orange County entry in this league, although the one article I managed to find on the subject identifies that league as the International Basketball Association, which appears to have held a draft (easy) but not to have played a game (hard).