Cooking for the other hungry dog

Last Wednesday we woke up in the middle of the night to find the other hungry dog unable to stand or walk, shaking, panting, dizzy, sick. We rushed her to the emergency room, where we found out she had vestibular disease, similar to extreme vertigo. It goes away, but it can take days or weeks, and in the meantime, all the patient can do is endure the misery.

Poor pup stayed in the ICU for three nights. We brought her home on Saturday and since then she has made good progress. She can stand up on her own now, and walk more steadily every day. She's not yet able to take the stairs, which means the husband carries her gently each and every time. Lifting a 70-lb dog up a flight of stairs is no small thing, in physical effort, and in the love it conveys.

Once we got her home, we holed up and shut out the world, doing our very best to keep her calm and safe. To soothe our own nerves, we fussed around the house. I decided Sunday was a good day to make some comfort food.

First up was chicken stock. I do not have any special secret, but I make good stock, flavored with celery, onion, bay, and peppercorns. I love the smell of it simmering on the stove.

Once the stock was going I felt the urge to make something sweet, but not too sweet. A quick inventory of the fridge and freezer found that we had applesauce to use up as well as loads of frozen cranberries. Voila: cranberry applesauce bread.

It's not an exciting recipe, but it's a good one that I'll add to my repertoire. I baked it in my bundt pan to make it a bit more fun than a loaf; fluted edges always make something a little special, even a plain old quick bread.

In the evening I made Italian wedding soup, full of delicate, savory little meatballs and vibrant green spinach. Though we had little appetite, we both found comfort in a good bowl of soup, brimming with vegetables and tiny star pasta.

A few days have passed. The other hungry dog continues to improve. She's even begun to regain her appetite. The funny thing is, the only thing she'll eat is roast chicken. Not boiled chicken, which is what I originally cooked for her, based on the doctor's recommendation. Roasted.

She might be pulling something over on us, but I'm willing to go along with it. As anyone who loves someone deeply knows--whether it is a partner, child, friend, or animal-- seeing the object of your affection suffer is about the worst thing on the planet. Any improvement, small or slight, is heralded as a milestone and the path to recovery. And if the recovery calls for roast chicken, I'm more than willing to oblige.

Salad days

Anyone reading this blog over the last few weeks might wonder if I survive on a steady diet of cake. It would be hard to argue with the evidence. There was the delicious and melancholy applesauce cake; the ill-fated grape cake; and the ever-popular root beer cake, which I am already envisioning in cupcake form, perhaps with a cream center, an homage to the Hostess Cupcake.

Lest any of you think I'm a grown-up, female version of Augustus Gloop, tossing cakes, cookies, and anything else in my path down the hatch, let me set your worries aside. From time to time, I can show restraint. In fact, I'm quite the vegetable-eater.

The other day I composed this lovely salad with peppery arugula, apples, toasted walnuts, chives, and goat cheese.

Dressed in a bright lemon vinaigrette, it provided a much-needed contrast to the decadent sweets I've been enjoying recently. I'll always have a sweet tooth, but nearly as often I do enjoy a good crisp salad, preferably one with something crunchy and something creamy. The many varieties of apples in season right now provide the perfect sweetness and balance. For this particular salad I used Gala apples that arrived with our produce box. In addition to complementing the slightly sharp bite of the greens and the tang of the dressing, their cheery red color elevated the salad from appealing to downright pretty.

Dark times, drastic measures: Goodbye, Gourmet

The news of Gourmet's demise has left me feeling pretty blue.

While the death of this iconic magazine can't be blamed entirely on the Internet--certainly there were other factors at play, including low circulation and claims that Gourmet was out of touch with the average American cook--it cannot have helped. Without a doubt, the Internet has changed the face of journalism. Although the Web is great for leveling the publishing field--without blogs, The Hungry Dog would be a series of never-seen journal entries--leveling the field isn't always the best thing. As Christopher Kimball, publisher of Cook's Illustrated, noted in this op-ed piece last week, doesn't the world need fewer opinions and more thoughtful expertise? This goes for all kinds of journalism, not just food writing. Do you really want your news from any moron who can set up a blogger account?

There's been a little backlash to Kimball's piece; some food bloggers are feeling defensive. I guess my take on the whole thing is that I'd like there to be room and audience for both the old guard and the new guard. I'd like to pick and choose my information from any number of sources, including tried-and-true standbys like Gourmet as well as some of the incredible food blogs out there, whose numbers are growing by the day. 

Mostly, I feel concerned about what I see as a diminishing interest in in-depth reporting, which really is what made Gourmet not just a collection of seasonal recipes, but a series of well-researched and often excellent articles about food, politics, travel, and culture. While equalizing opportunity can provide a much-needed forum for those of us just learning how to be creative, it's sad to think that people are losing an interest in journalism with well-earned chops. I mean, how do you know that my recipe for flank steak with bok choy is any good? Most of you reading this have never met me. I could be a terrible cook and a compulsive liar. But you can assume that Gourmet's recipe would be pretty solid.

Anyway, feeling sad and hungry, I decided to make Gourmet's spiced applesauce cake with cinnamon cream cheese frosting. The cake smells like Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas all wrapped into one.

I served it to our friends Amy and Johann who came over for dinner on saturday. We morosely discussed the changing face of publishing while inhaling this moist, fragrant cake. Amidst the rueful sighs were furtive scrapings of forks on plates.

 

In case you were wondering what goes with a rich, appley cake full of brown sugar, vanilla, cloves, and ginger, the answer is dulce de leche ice cream. I suppose it's gilding the lily, what with the layer of cinnamon cream cheese frosting spread thickly over the top of the cake already, but dark times call for drastic measures. I suggest you make this cake. But don't trust me--trust Gourmet.