It’s not often I shop our local Wal-Mart. Truth be told, I’m a Target girl. But last week my son and I braved the cluttered aisles of our local Wal-Mart to look for video games for the PS/2 my brother Matt has lent to him while he’s in Iraq. Afterwards I meandered over to the housewares department, where I was pleasantly surprised to find some enamel cast iron cookware nestled among cheap aluminum saucepans and rice cookers. Not only enamel cast iron, but well made enamel cast iron.

I own a ton (almost literally!) of enamel cast iron cookware, everything from a Le Creuset wooden-handled 1-qt. saucepan with a pouring lip to a 7-qt. Lodge French oven big enough to contain a small turkey — and heavy enough to break a toe should it drop. I don’t really need more cast iron cookware but … well, I kept thinking about that pretty, dark green Tramontina oven. About how my 5.5-qt. red Le Creuset French oven’s finish got burned off during an unfortunate encounter with caramelized onions and high heat and wouldn’t it be nice to have a pan to replace it. Not replace it, exactly, but to stand in for it when I couldn’t be bothered with the extensive cleanup the damaged red oven requires. And how pleasant a boeuf bourguignon or Irish lamb stew would look in the oven, simmering enticingly in that forest green vessel.

Oh hell, who am I kidding? I was back over there in a shot, hoping, praying that throngs of obsessive home cooks hadn’t discovered the 15-lb. treasure lurking on Wal-Mart’s shelves. Whew! My pot was still there, along with a smaller 3.5-qt. version. (I am not, I repeat not buying another pan.) When I got home, I quietly removed the red Le Creuset oven from its dining room perch and brought it to my overflow storage area in the basement, and replaced it with the green Tramontina oven.

Haven’t yet given this new acquisition a test drive … I’m going to replace the plastic knob with something more oven-proof, since it looks like it’ll only tolerate up to 350 degrees F — plus it’s still too hot here to think about braises, stews, and batches of no-knead bread. Give me another couple months. Full report TK.

I love Anthropologie. A new store opened up close by last month, and nearly every week I’ve sneaked in there to buy stuff for my food writing projects: ice cream bowls in primary colors, pale blue and white egg cups, retro juice glasses.

But this one is just for me. I’ve filled it with demarara sugar for my afternoon tea and keep it next to Bessie, my KitchenAid stand mixer.

This became my favorite lunch soup this winter, although arguably it’s a summer soup with its creamy coconut base and gently poached shrimp, not to mention its intense cilantro essence. (Cilantro haters will run screaming from your kitchen when you make this soup — my two loathers could never be found when this was on the stove.) However, with a half cup of cream stirred in, along with a dollop of tom yum paste and a tablespoon of fresh-chopped fiery bird’s eye chilis, it soothes on the coldest blustery days of December. I know, I made plenty of it during the Christmas season.

I discovered the genesis for this recipe in a delightful book I’d purchased awhile ago, Roast Chicken and Other Stories by Simon Hopkinson. His version contains no shrimp, and I’ve made so few changes to this gem of a recipe that I cannot take an ounce of credit for this soup.

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Cilantro, Shrimp, and Coconut Soup

Adapted from Roast Chicken and Other Stories by Simon Hopkinson

2 cups chicken broth (preferably homemade, but organic canned/boxed broth will do)

1 heaping teaspoon tom yum paste (this is a Thai sweet-and-sour paste that you can find in any well-stocked Asian market. If you can’t find it, don’t worry — it’s not critical to the dish)

1 tablespoon grated fresh ginger root

1 crushed garlic clove

2 stalks lemon grass, chopped

2 birds eye chilis, finely chopped (actually, I’m not sure if the chilis I buy/use are actually bird’s eyes — they’re tiny, about an inch long, and red, and I buy them at the local Asian market)

5 green onions, white parts only, chopped

1 big bunch of fresh cilantro; cut the stems off the bunch and chop finely, and reserve the leaves for garnish

1 can reduced fat coconut milk (do not confuse with coconut *cream*, which is used in pina coladas and contains a bunch of sugar)

1 tablespoon fresh lime juice

3 tablespoons fish sauce (nam pla), which can be found in Asian markets or a well-stocked supermarket

1 pound 25-32 ct. fresh shrimp, peeled and deveined (you can also use thawed frozen shrimp)

1/2 cup heavy cream

1. In a 3-quart saucepan, heat the chicken broth, tom yum paste, ginger, garlic, lemon grass, chilis, and green onions over medium heat. Let simmer for 30 minutes, keeping an eye on the heat under the pan. (I frequently have to turn it to low to prevent the soup from boiling.)

2. Strain the soup into a heat-proof bowl, discard the aromatics, then return the broth to the saucepan. Add the chopped cilantro stems, coconut milk, lime juice, and fish sauce. Simmer for five minutes, then strain the broth into the heat-proof bowl, discard the stems, and return the broth to the saucepan.

3. Add the shrimp to the broth and cook over medium heat for 4 to 6 minutes, until the shrimp are pink and cooked through. Stir in the cream. Ladle into bowls and top each bowl with 1/4 cup chopped cilantro leaves.

Imagine having this kind of pizza baked right at your doorstep.

Patti, he’s in your neck of the woods. Maybe for your little guy’s first birthday? (Don’t forget my invitation!)

So my Salton 1-qt. yogurt maker from amazon.com arrived yesterday via UPS. It’s basically a plastic crockpot running on low heat. I immediately began work on a sample batch. I used four cups of organic whole milk, a 1/2 cup of powdered milk, and a packet of yogurt culture. You must scald the milk and let it cool to blood temp before putting into the yogurt maker, which takes about 1/2 hour. I put the mixture in the yogurt maker around 2:30 p.m. and by 6:30 I had a nice, firm yogurt. Then it had to go into the fridge to cool overnight.

This morning I spooned out a cup or so, mixed in some honey and Bonne Maman blackberry jam — very nice! Oddly enough, it didn’t turn 0ut as smooth and creamy as my Mason-jar-in-the-stove yogurt. And except for the scalding part, it’s a fairly carefree process. Otherwise, I can see this gadget paying for itself as I can purchase organic milk more cheaply than I can organic yogurt.