Welcome to the first issue of The Supper Letters. I’m so glad you are here!
I’m beginning this newsletter in the spring intentionally. As the weather warms up, produce is starting to come alive here in the Midwest. Small seeds are turning into sprouts with the smallest speck of life — a root, a stem, a cradle for food.
It’s fitting, it seems like my words have been buried right alongside memories, dreams, hopes, cold cups of coffee, and stacks of library cookbooks. These words have waited for winter to cease so they can shoot up like a tall sprouts, strong and ready for an herbaceous summer.
It wasn’t until I began to cook my family’s recipes and then experiment in my own kitchen that I knew I wanted to write about food and my experience with it. While writing has always been a passion, cooking was there but I never recognized it until the past couple of years.
I grew up cooking in a modest kitchen. Our long, wooden table was where we both prepared food and gathered to eat. It sat directly in the middle of the kitchen. We also had a dining room, but it was the kitchen where I have the best memories. My mom would sprinkle flour over the wood grain to roll out pasta dough. She would hand cut thick dumpling-like noodles, following vague instructions from our family recipe for chicken and noodles. The recipe card only helps you so far, you have to know the technique to really make them well. I remember prepping summer produce to pickle cucumbers or green beans or make tomato or apple sauces, most of the produce came from our backyard garden. My mom also created amazing stone-cooked, deep-dish pizza. She cooked one pizza with chicken and barbecue sauce and another with beef, mozzarella, and spinach pizza. I remember disliking the spinach one growing up, but now it’s the one I crave often. I grew up with warm, midwestern comfort food. It was the way to take care of people around us.
Now I have my own space to cook and feed the people I love most. In my small apartment, the cabinets, fridge, dishwasher, oven, and sink are along one wall. I took my grandma’s old canning cupboard with me when I moved, for extra storing space. It has a deep cabinet with two shelves on the bottom and four thinner cabinets on top with glass doors. This is where I store my preserved/canned food, some cookbooks, and the blue willow dishes I collect. The cupboard is the “something old” I want to cherish. The “something new” is the kitchen island I purchase from Ikea before I moved in. It is where I store my colanders and bowls, and hang my thrifted copper pots from the rack. I can roll out pasta dough or pizza dough on the butcher block counter or prep veggies for pickling… just like we used to in my childhood kitchen.
There are many things I’ve already made in this mismatched kitchen of mine, and there are more things I’m looking forward to cooking this spring, summer, and fall. This newsletter is going to be a snapshot of all of it, thanks for coming along for the ride.
There is one meal that I keep going back to on the nights I want to cook a filling meal but not be at the stove for hours. It’s a meal for the tired but hungry: Roast Cornish hen. (If you follow me on Instagram, you probably have seen it several times before.)
I make this on the nights when I don’t actually feel like cooking. I almost always have some sort of chicken in my fridge. It’s simple enough to throw together, and massaging the rub is grounding and therapeutic for me after a long day. When you stick it in the oven, you are off the hook for about 40-50 minutes while it roasts and becomes a golden and tender. I use the cooking time to clean, fold laundry, read, or zone out to Netflix.
It pairs nicely with rice and a veggie. I like carrots, but I’m sure sugar snap peas, green beans, or asparagus would taste good too.
If you are unfamiliar with a Cornish hen — a smaller version of a whole chicken that is often leaner and more tender than a standard whole chicken — you can also use bone-in chicken legs or thighs. (You can also use these same spices on a regular, whole chicken too, but the quantity of spices and cook time will differ then the recipe below.) This meal is supposed to provide you sustenance and ease — use what ever is most available to you.
Roasted Cornish hen
Feeds 1-2 well.
Ingredients
A 1-2 lb cornish hen or the equivalent of bone-in thighs, or legs.
1 tbs salt
1 tbs pepper
2 tps basel
2 tsp oregano
2 tsp parsley
2 cloves grated garlic
2 tsp onion powder or 1/4 chopped onion
3 tsp smoked paprika
A pitch of red pepper flakes (you can add more if you like spice)
Zest of half a lemon and one lemon quartered/sliced
2 sprigs of fresh thyme, bay leaves, and/or oregano
3 tbs olive oil
Instructions
Preheat the oven to 400 °F. Line a sheet pan with parchment paper or aluminum foil
In a small bowl, combine all spices, seasons, and zest into a dry rub, and set aside.
Unwrap the chicken and remove the gizzards. Rinse it with water, then pat dry with a paper towel. Lay the hen breast side up and begin messaging the dry rub into the chicken, making sure to get under the legs and around the sides. I use my figures for this, I find it is better to massage the rub into the chicken than a baster.
Drizzle olive oil over the chicken gently, using a zig-zag motion across the pan. Make sure not to saturate the hen too much or it will prevent the chicken from getting golden brown skin.
Cross the end of the two chicken legs over one another. Using food-grade twine, tie the chicken legs together so the thighs are lifted off of the baking sheet.
Place quartered/sliced lemons and fresh herbs around the chicken.
Slide chicken into the oven on the middle rack and cook about 40-50 minutes for a cornish hen and 30-40 minutes for bone-in chicken pieces. You will want the skin a deep golden brown. A thermometer should read 165 °F when inserted into the thicket part of the chicken’s thighs.
Let the chicken cool before you carve into it. I learned to carve a chicken from Molly Baz’s cookbook, Cook this Book. Her instructional video makes craving as easy as pie.
Serve with rice, potatoes, and any colorful veggie of your choosing. This chicken is also perfect for leftovers the next day, such as on a sandwich with cheese, mayo, and lettuce.
This week I’m…
Reading: Summer Kitchens by Olia Hercules. This book has me swooning over recipes and descriptions of delectable eats. But more important than that, Olia is a London-based Ukrainian chef and activist who has been an incredible source of insight through what is happening in Ukrainian over seas. I highly recommend checking out her Instagram to see ways to support Ukrainians.
Eating: Drunken Deviled Eggs and Fried Chicken Brined in Sweet Tea from Root and Bone Indianapolis.
Watching: From the Source — I’ve been savoring this TV show for awhile. Katie Button explores the origins and stories behind different delicious ingredients – like seafood, cheese, and honey. She shares her knowledge of cooking techniques to inspire others to be more curious, creative and joyful cooks in their own kitchens, me included!
Listening: to the song “Real Love Baby” by Father John Misty. If I could have a soundtrack to my life, this song would be first on the list.
If you’re here, that means your read to the very end, or at least scrolled all the way to the bottom of this first email newsletter of mine. Thanks for being here. I’m grateful for your presents and readership. I look forward to the future of this newsletter and the community I hope it builds. If you liked this issue, share it with your friends!