A Little Recipe

I think I found this on Serious Eats but it could have been Saveur mea culpa. The directions are mine however.
Preheat oven 350°
1/2 # Fresh Salmon (or other fish)
Black Sesame Seeds (or white)
Sesame Oil
Make some diagonal slices in the fish. Not all the way through and place in a baking dish. Pour a little bit of sauce in the slices and pat black sesame seeds into fish drizzle with sesame oil.

Sauce:
1/2 Lime juiced
3T Mirin
2T Soy Sauce
2t Rice Wine Vinegar
1/2t Wasabi Powder or to taste
Combine. Set aside.

Bake until firm to the touch-10 Minutes-

I served it with sautéed bok choy and Chinese noodles tossed with Tom Douglas’s Rub with Love Triple Garlic Teriyaki Sauce. This sauce has a nicely balanced flavor. Not your usual teriyaki goop. I’d make this again!

Shoot I Missed It!

The Bloody Mary had its 75th anniversary on October 5th. Geeze I hate to miss a reason for a party! It was created at the King Cole Room in the St. Regis in NYC. Serge Obolensky asked Fernand Petiot to recreate a cocktail he had in Paris.

It was named after the Catholic English Queen Mary and included salt, pepper, lemon and Worcestershire sauce. Polite society found the name a bit offensive so the St. Regis rechristened it the Red Snapper. Either way it is my drink of celebratory choice on a slow Sunday or before Thanksgiving festivities.

Below is a recipe adapted from Hip Sips by Lucy Brennan and Carolyn Burleigh that we use. It takes a bit of forethought (2 days)but once the vodka has macerated it's good for a pitcher of Red Snappers!

2 days head

1/4 each yellow,red,orange peppers, sliced
1/2 sm jalapeno pepper
1 lg garlic clove
4 basil leaves
1 bottle potato vodka ie-Monopolowa (save bottle)
Combine all ing. in a wide mouthed jar and store in fridge or cool dark spot for 2 days. Strain and pour back into vodka bottle.

The Drink-

3 oz tomato juice
2 oz Bloody Mary Vodka
5-6 dashes worcestershire sauce
2t horseradish sauce
Garnish du jour
Embibe!

Tuna Casserole #2

I stumbled upon this today in my Saveur email update. With the addition of mustard and a white sauce (instead of mushroom soup) it would have more of a rarebit taste and look at the work! Mom would never make this!
SERVES 6

This stalwart of American cooking is often topped with a crunchy layer of crushed potato chips instead of bread crumbs and traditionally made with a can or two of cream of mushroom soup. Our "from scratch" version is respectfully updated.

10 tbsp. butter
Salt
4 1⁄2 cups (about 10 oz.) flat egg noodles
5 scallions, chopped
3 tbsp. flour
1 1⁄2 tsp. dry mustard
3 1⁄3 cups milk
Freshly ground black pepper
1 12-oz. can tuna packed in oil, drained and broken into
small chunks
1 1⁄2 cups homemade fresh white bread crumbs

1. Preheat oven to 375°. Rub the inside of a 2 1⁄2-quart casserole dish with 1 tbsp. of the butter. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil over high heat. Add noodles and cook until al dente, 5–7 minutes. Drain and transfer noodles to a large bowl.

2. Melt 4 tbsp. of the butter in a medium saucepan over medium-high heat. Add half the scallions and cook until softened, 1–2 minutes. Add flour and mustard and cook, stirring frequently, for 1 minute. Gradually pour in milk, whisking constantly, and bring to a boil. Cook sauce, stirring frequently, until smooth and thickened, 16–18 minutes. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Transfer sauce to the bowl with the noodles. Add tuna and stir gently to combine. Transfer tuna–noodle mixture to prepared dish.

3. Melt remaining 5 tbsp. butter and toss with remaining scallions, bread crumbs, and salt and pepper to taste in a bowl. Scatter seasoned bread crumbs over tuna–noodle mixture and bake until golden brown and bubbling, 20–25 minutes. Let casserole cool slightly before serving.

This article was first published in Saveur in Issue #98

Tuna Casserole

I’ve just finished an unmemorable book. It was chick lit with mid-life crisis characters set in contemporary England. There were some sterling insightful observations and quick repartee. In no time at all I will forget it and move on. Since the title was Cloe Zhivago’s Recipe for Marriage and Mischief by Olivia Lichtenstien; she felt she had to weave recipes throughout. At the beginning of most chapters there was a recipe with a hint of tying it into the chapter with a noted character.

One recipe and chapter gave me pause. It was a recipe from the ‘50’s- a bit more gourmetized than I remembered. It was offered by the mother/mother-in-law/grandmother. She was a woman that made you cringe just reading about her. True to form she made a dish that everyone either gagged on or quickly left the table. Of course the characters had to hate the meal the woman was vile.

When I looked at the recipe I had a different feeling. Take the peas away and it was Tuna Casserole! As a child it was a delight! A casserole with potato chips as one of the 4 ingredients was culinary utopia. For my mother it was bliss from can to table in 20 minutes and no complaints. “Lick your plate clean!” “No problem!”

When the characters gagged and rolled their eyes I felt like shaking them!
“Don’t you understand how good that casserole is? Where else is there a recipe that has potato chips as part of the square meal? Usually they were parceled out but in this dish they could be eaten with orgasmic abandon. Toasty on top and drenched in cream of mushroom soup it didn’t get any better back in the fine cuisine era of the late '50's.

I will not go down culinary lane and recreate the dish. My memories are strong and I don’t want to mar them with the reality of a mediocre meal. A tear will be shed over the memory.

Cranberry Apple Sauce w/ Japanese Pickled Ginger

Fall is here and so are the first apples and cranberries. Last week I bought some heirloom apples. They had a lovely taste and snow white interior but the texture reminded me of Delicious apples in March. So I ignored them and ate with glee and delight the Honey Crisps. Slowly the heirlooms made their way to the front of the fridge reminding me that something had to be done with them. A cruise of the fresh produce aisle solved my apple dilemma. Grabbing a bag of fresh cranberries I was ready to cook!
This is a loose recipe based on what you want to get rid of and how much is on hand.
2 Apples quartered, peeled, seeded
1 bag Fresh Cranberries rinsed, and picked through
1/4C Water
1t Japanese Pickled Ginger, julienne into thin strips (ginger preserves can be
substituted)
1pinch Kosher salt
Sugar-to taste
1 Squeeze fresh Lemon Juice

Put all of the ingredients minus the sugar in a thick bottomed pot. Cook at medium heat until the apples are mushy and the cranberries have popped. While still hot add the sugar to taste. Stir vigorously to combine ingredients. Let cool and serve.

D-Day For Moles! or Part 2

It was a dark and stormy day…Well not actually- it was an “everything” day as I like to call a cloudy-rainy-sunny-day. The only precipitation we were missing was hail.

Things did not bode well for Mole City. After an invigorating walk with Bz.Lt.Yr, NSSP was back. His jaw was set in one of those classic male poses- determined, resolute, and gunning for a confrontation.

“Don’t you think it’s a bit wet for The Super Gasser?” I had started to feel a wee bit sorry for the little blind web-footed invaders.

“You can’t stop me woman! Today is the day! I will rule my turf!” his eyes had turned a steely blue and I thought I had been dropped into a grade B movie. Instead of Bill Murray I was faced with John Wayne, The Lone Ranger and Clint Eastwood rolled into one. “I don’t need your help! This is a MAN’S JOB.”

As he gathered his manly tools I quietly pocketed my camera to record the battle. NSSP emerged from the shed with such technical tools as a 3 pronged hand rake, ergonomic serrated scoop, dandelion poker, a rake that has followed us across the USA and his WMD. Long strides quickly brought him to the mound. We both stared fantasizing the upcoming battle. In one quick movement NSSP was on the ground leveling the mound. I refrained from mentioning that Bz.Lt.Yr. could dig faster and more efficiently but I realized that would spoil fun #1 playing in the mud.

After leveling the mound came fun#2 poking the hole with the dandelion poker. Plunge, poke, wiggle, then thrust again and repeat. NSSP was like a mad scientist getting ready for the big bang. NSSP emitted a satisfied grunt. “Ah…I found it!” He sat back on his haunches and stroked The Super Gasser. I knew better than to interrupt or break his concentration.

NSSP whipped out a lighter and lit the fuse. We stared at it as if it was a stick of dynamite and would explode. Instead it started smoking. Thrusting The Super Destroyer into the hole NSSP quickly filled the hole and we looked at the ground as if there would be a horde of little moles clamoring to the top. Instead we saw smoke wisps puffing out of the grass.

Fun#3 commenced with a tarantella stomp/dance where ever we saw smoke escaping.
“We can’t let the smoke escape or it won’t follow the tunnel!” my expert in mole destruction exclaimed.

It was time for fun#4 finding more holes to smoke out. Must use up the sticks! Bill Murray was back poking, stuffing, and stomping in the front yard. When he got too close to the house I pulled the fun cord and called an end to the experiment.

Only time will tell if the moles met their match with NSSP but he did have a great time and vowed to buy more Gasser/Destroyers…I can’t wait...

WMD~Weapons of Mole Destruction! Part 1

Living on the edge can turn the mildest milk toast professor into a whirling dervish when confronted with moles, voles, and Norwegian rats. I have witnessed this transition in NSSP (Not So Silent Partner). He has never been a milk toast professor but does have a kind heart toward dogs, cats, and children. I have heard that on the golf course a darker side comes out but it never crosses our domestic thresh hold until…

He came back from walking the dog. Slamming the door shut he screamed, “That’s it! This is war!”

I put on my ‘concerned spouse what is it this time dear look’ and gently said, “What’s wrong?”

His eyes had an other- worldly glaze as he ominously whispered, “It’s the moles! there is a huge mound of dirt in our front yard! I’m going to kill them this is it! This is WAR! You just try walking on the yard! Your feet sink into the tunnels! The yard is riddled with tunnels!”

I did my June Cleaver smile and patted his chest, “Now dear it can’t be all that bad.” I was already losing interest in this yard violation but I dutifully opened the front door and peeked out. I hate to admit it but the mound was rather large, it looked like big brown erupted zit on the green grass cheek of our tamed yard. “Did Bz.Lt.yr. Pee on the zit -err- mound?” it was an urban edge legend that pee- human or dog- would chase moles away.

“No he did not! We need to start patrolling more! The rains are coming and this problem needs to be dealt with! They must die!”

By this time I had heard enough of NSSP’s blather and scuttled downstairs to my office cave. Thinking the best way to deal with the problem was to ignore it. A few hours later NSSP had calmed down (I thought he had taken my approach to the problem) and said he was off to a spin class at the club. I inwardly sighed thinking the world had righted itself and started dinner.

Coming home to a bubbling crock pot of split pea soup (this is the meager food entry), I saw a slightly manic sparkle to NSSP’s eyes. Thinking it was just an elevated heart rate from exercise I gathered the rest of the meal and we sat down to dinner.

“I stopped at Lowe’s on my way to the club.” He said casually, “I talked to a young man about OUR PROBLEM and he had the perfect solution!”

“You spoke to a minimum wage teenage employee and he had the perfect answer to our mole city?” the world was starting to shift slightly.

“Yes! You won’t believe it! There are no chemicals, vibrating sticks or traps!” NSSP’s eyes were in full manic glow. I hadn’t seen him this excited since last Sunday when he had a sports trifecta with the Yankees, Giants, and American’s winning in golf.

“ Soooo- how does it work?”

“I’m going to smoke them out!!”

That was when I noticed a change in NSSP. As I watched him describe how he bought the perfect rodent smoke bombs, perfectly safe around children and dogs, I watched him turn into Bill Murray from Caddy shack fame. Before my eyes there he was in a dirty ragged tee shirt, squashed hat, slurring his words out of the side of his mouth, wobbling his head, and leering at me. The world was definitely tilting and I was slipping off the edge.

I looked at the wine bottle and knew I couldn’t blame this on our consumption. I had to calm the beast before he became a menace to society.

“Can I see what you bought?” NSSP snapped back to my mate with a shy smile.

“Do you really want to see it?”

“Yes!” I feigned interest. “Where are these smoke bombs?”

“They’re in the garage!” He leapt up and brought back the package placing it on the table.

To say I burst into laughter is an understatement. I howled! “Look at this packaging! This was designed only for men! What sane woman would be attracted to this? “The Super Gasser? The Giant Destroyer? The effective gas killer? This product has been used successfully for many years for rodent control?”

I looked up and saw a glimmer of realization that this might not be the final answer for NSSP but would be one hell of a good time. Like poking a worm to death or stepping on a slug.

NSSP reverently held his super gasser package and lovingly put it back in the garage.

Tomorrow…

Shrimp Chips with Lobster Pics!

This is my last nod to 10/10/09 until next year. I won't regale you with the frozen dim sum extravaganza we ate watching "The Chinese Feast" except to point out these psychedelic fried discs you should try. They are Chinese shrimp toasts. Flat discs you fry in oil that turn in to crispy pillows. They take only seconds to cook and I suggest only cooking what you will eat in one sitting. You can buy them all white but why? The colors are a blast! They have a nice shrimp flavor and I have served them before with a crab dip.

Family Dinner Part 2

There was a disturbing article in MY Sunday paper (NYT) with the title,“The Guilt-Trip Casserole” by Jan Hoffman. The nut graph was that a study by CASA (Center on Addiction and Substance Abuse) at Columbia University found that teenagers who ate less than 3 times a week were more likely to turn to alcohol, tobacco, or drugs than those who dined with their families 5 times a week (Dined? Obviously the fact gatherers haven’t eaten with a monosyllabic teenager or an obnoxious 10 year old).Families are stretched thin and time is on the short side. Cooking has been getting the short sheet for many years. Pierre Franey wrote a couple of cookbooks for the 60 minute gourmet back in prehistoric cooking times of the '70's. Today RR is doing it in 30 minutes and there is a series of cookbooks using only 3-5 ingredients to make a tasty? meal.I won’t even mention another Julia Child wannabe who rips open bags of prepackaged stuff and finishes her show with a vodka slurpy. Food has been delegated to fuel (energy bars, drinks, fast food in the car) void of its leisure and mentally nurturing qualities.

How can we put quality back into eating if we are ripping open packages of pre-cut vegetables or bagged cooked rice and zapping them?It’s not that we have to eat like the Romans and recline on pillows but like a nightly bedtime story it should be a time of staring at each other and brushing up on the technique of speaking to a person not a cel phone.We have to be reminded that we are a family unit and not just individuals careening around with head sets and lap tops. The family unit grew out of the love (or mistake) of two people and their commitment to the future. Children need to see how their parents or elders interact for better or for worse. It is the subconscious template for their future relationships.

When a job is hard to do and the rewards seem elusive we try to work around the elephant in the kitchen. This is what has happened to many parents today. Feeding a family sucks and it is a 365 day responsibility. It can be grueling and mind numbing. Keeping track of everyone’s likes and dislikes, or worse yet allergies, taxes even the most organized executive. Then we have the nonexistent “rave reviews” or thank yous. I’m not saying my generation was the golden age of family meals but it was a dictatorship in the kitchen. There also wasn’t the proliferation of restaurants on every corner. You ate at home, period.

To learn any skill there is a logic one must learn. Sewing? Knitting? Carpentry? Cooking? These all require a commitment to get to the next level. Cookbooks are written today to sell and tease most aren’t meant to help build a repertoire. Unless you have the culinary fire in your belly you won’t be the next Féran Adria but a few simple meals could turn you into a nurturing person.

I wish I had some concrete answers. My heart goes out to the cooking challenged it’s a hard road.

Think Fast! and Use Wondra!

I had all intensions of making the perfect unctuous macaroni and cheese but even the best plans can go awry. I should have gone downstairs and retrieved my Betty Crocker (this is the only recipe I have ever used her for) but no, I was cock sure. I foraged in our meat/cheese drawer and found a plethora of “fromage du jour”. There was also bacon lurking, waiting to adhere its fat to my hips. No problem! I’m the gal!

The first big hurdle was the shape of the pasta. I take this very seriously. What does it look like? How will it soak up the sauce? Is it a shape I want to eat tonight? Swirling questions as I groped pasta in my pantry and there it was! Culinary Circle Authentic Bronze-Cut Trottole shaped pasta (on sale at Albertson’s) I knew the bronze cut would be the secret ingredient to my pasta absorbing cheese concoction.

I proceeded down my mental mac&chez checklist until….I looked at the finished sauce and realized it was cheese oil slurry lacking the emulsion qualities I wanted. I stepped back and said “flip”... I’m not about to make a separate roux to jack the white sauce. In a B.O.B. (Burst of Brilliance) I reached for my Wondra! A couple of T’s later and we were on smooth sailing. A pop in the oven with a dusting of toasted breadcrumbs and I put Kraft M&C to shame!
The Bailed Out Recipe: oven @350°
2 strips bacon, minced
¼-1/3C onion, finely diced
1 cl garlic, minced
2T olive oil
2T flour
2C milk
31/2C fromage du jour, grated- hats off to the food processor!
grates of nutmeg
1/2T mustard
1/2C additional milk (oops!)
2T Wondra flour
squeeze of lemon
sel e poive
toasted, buttered breadcrumbs (thank you freezer)
heavy cream to lubricate (o.k. any milk will do)
Directions: Put large pot of salted (like the sea) water on to boil. Cook pasta while the rest of the circus is going on. When done, drain and let hang until needed.

Sauté bacon, onion, garlic, olive oil until the onions are translucent and bacon has started to brown. Add flour and cook (yikes! A culinary term! It morphs into a roux!) Add milk and cook until thickened (here dear friends is the faux pas- not enough roux for the~ second culinary term~ white sauce) this will slightly coat the spoon not a heavy pudding coat which would be nice.

Add cheese, nutmeg and mustard. Check the damage. You can charge through and ignore the less than perfect M&C texture or bail out with Wondra. Adjust seasonings add black pepper, lemon and salt “to taste”.

By now the pasta has solidified- rinse in hot water and SHAKE VIGOROUSLY less is more in the water department.

Combine sauce and pasta in oil laced casserole- is there anything other than Corning Ware to use? Cook until bubbly (this culinary term has to be from the ‘50’s!) If you peer in and see it is not as creamy as you would like add a splash of heavy cream around the edges (o.k. I have this h.c. that I’m trying to use up).
Did I forget to mention enjoy? M&C in any variation is always a perfect meal.
Bon Appetit!

Family Dinner Part 1

Family Dinner. Why do those two words conjure up so many different emotions? It used to be simple. At 5pm in Iowa (6pm for us there were cocktails first) we sat down for dinner, period. There was no dialog about what to have, where to sit or more importantly what to eat. We ate what was put in front of us either hot as served or lukewarm to cold if we decided to resist the lima beans. I don’t remember pithy conversations, jokes, or stories. I do remember a lot of boredom, waiting to be dismissed to dash outside, in the summer or just away in the winter. Dismissal was at my father’s whim. Dinner attendance was expected. Only on sleepovers when you changed dinner tables was there variety. Dinner was the last family ritual to be performed before individual homework, baths, and bed. In those days there was a touch of black and white T.V., also controlled by Dad.

Fast forward. When The Princess was a tyke, I fed her first for many reasons. Firstly, she just wasn’t fun to eat with. She was happy eating the same thing all the time and I wasn’t happy making the same thing all the time for me to eat. Secondly, I didn’t even think about dinner until 5-6pm. During school I would bang out something for her but in the summer it was oft times when food wasn’t ready until 8-9pm. When she did become old enough to be tolerated at the table there were manners to be taught- elbows off, milk finished, napkin in the lap, silverware placement, and most importantly shoulders up! No slouching. We did make a stab at conversation but most of the stories had been told already. I did find it a great time for a family meeting, a time for us all to be updated on future plans and obligations. I didn’t make her wait until the last scrap was eaten by all and there were times when we did eat in front of the T.V. but mostly there was dinner music and candles not in a hoity toity way but a benchmark for civility and respect.

My job was to feed. My NSSP and The Princess’s job was to eat without complaint. There were a few years when I almost hated to put food in front of the other 2/3’s of the house. “Can’t you make anything plain?” she lamented. “Why does it always have to be fancy or gourmet?” she would push food around her plate as if it was a hated substance. I didn’t have an answer that she would understand but in defense I would have gone stark raving mad if I had to cook from Betty Crocker every day. I needed to be creative in my kitchen.

What goes around comes around. I find The Princess a success now. She can work her way around a menu at the fanciest of restaurants and is a joy to eat with next to NSSP. She hasn’t learned to cook (I was never a touchy feely stir the pudding mom- more of the go get your homework done and I’ll meet you at the dinner table kind of gal) but her palate is developed and she will try almost anything. She has a cook’s logic and on the few times she’s called me for recipes whipping down the aisles at Gristedes Market or the Fairway her questions are insightful.

She also is fearless. Last Thanksgiving she and her best friend made turkey pot pie with dough made from scratch. I do get nervous when she says she has nothing in the fridge (this prompts me to send pasta, sauce and peanut butter) I have to release. She will find her way.

These days with an empty nest, Family Dinner is for either one or two. Candles are still lit and jazz replaces the classical cooking music. It is an interlude between two parts of the day and a time to wind down. I wouldn’t give it up for anything!

The Celebrity Cooking Circuit or The Three Stooges are Back!

I read far too many food related articles, blogs, and other people’s ruminations. I ponder each gem wondering if this is the next craze, chef, or food to note. There are times however when I step back and reflect on what is being said. A subconscious knee jerk occurs as I push back from the rising tide of culinary sensationalism.

In an article titled “Rock Star Chefs” by Katy McLaughlin in www.onlinewsg.com 10.2.09; she explores the rock star status that chefs are attaining today. This isn’t rocket science. We’ve seen this rolling tsunami, flood the culinary scene with chefs turn celebrity, chef market food; wannabes reach chef stardom, and random failed restaurants. What has this done to elevate truly excellent cooking and passion in the masses?

RR in her own way ( and believe me I hate to give a nod to her slap dash in your face recipes and sloppy presentations and verbiage) we find her at least careening around a kitchen and squatting in front of a ridiculous oven to yank out broiled food. She doesn’t try to hob knob with the likes of Chef Eric Ripert and when she was on an Iron Chef Cook-off a few years ago seemed quite humbled and realistically out of her depth.

There was a quote in the article from used to be chef, and now resident culinary journalist Mr. Anthony Bourdain mentioning that he did 25 live appearances and will up it to 40 next year because the majority of his do$ re$ mi$ comes from these dog and pony shows. He did one last year here in my fair city on the edge and some close friends of mine went. When queried, they said his one man show was good when he was reciting his shtick but when the show was opened to questions from the masses it fell like a deflated soufflé. Everyone wanted to have a little one-on-one even if the question had been asked before or wasn’t relevant.

Hurling bras on the stage? (Guy Fieri) “Garnishing” a bald headed person in the audience with whipped cream and licking it off? (Paula Deen) What the flying wazoo has happened to cooking demonstrations?

Today “Bam!” is so innocent with everyone jamming food in their faces, ooze dripping down, and orgasmic grunting sounds.

My eyes welled when I saw that Chef Jacques Pepin, Chef Eric Ripert, and Mr.Tony Bourdain were going to do a three act celebrity chefs series in Miami.What is the world coming to? The last 3 act I remember was the 3 Stooges on black and white t.v.

I have seen Chef Pepin do several demonstrations alone and with Julia Child in his prime I thought of him as a human cuisinart in precision. The minimum of movement for maximum results exuded what it is to be a truly efficient chef. His La Technique and La Methode were seminal books that enticed me to pursue a culinary career.

I watched a Chef Ripert demonstration when he was on the cusp of “stardom” and felt the same reverence for his craft. I ate at his restaurant and although I am not stupid enough to think that he was dipping his finger in each sauce before it went out I felt his exactitude conveyed to the staff both front of the house and back of the house. His cookbooks exude a love for ingredients and a masterful execution of dishes. He's a pro!

Mr. Bourdain? His Kitchen Confidential was an Upton Sinclair for the restaurant industry. His stories were far too true and made me wince remembering the wild west days of the restaurant industry. These were stories I never even shared with my NSSP and here they were in print for the masses. He was a bad boy chef who worked hard and bailed out. He still has this fantasy that he is part of the trenches but this image can only be seen through rose colored glasses and a softened memory bank. His prose are acerbic and spot on but he’s strayed. New books have been shelved for live appearances. How many bugs and offal can he eat with the natives? Even that gets old.

I haven’t even mentioned the groupies who follow these people around and eat food prepared by more wannabe cooking school cheflets using the “God’s “ recipes. Kind of like buying a print of Picasso when he's in the room.

Call me old fashioned but I want to be inspired and learn from a cooking demonstration or show. It’s not good enough to see someone washing their hands 5 times and opening packages. How about some interesting technique with a properly set table and a plate with a reasonable portion?

I guess it’s time to throw in a Julia Child DVD and go down memory lane.
Bon Appetit!

A Soup to Warm Your Bones

One look at the upcoming weather sent visions of chicken soup to my mind’s eye. I couldn’t wait for the happy sun to disappear under a blanket of grey clouds. First I had to start my broth base. I save as many random chicken bones and pieces as I can in the freezer to start my broth. I throw the frozen mess into a large le creuset pot along with a mirepoix, (large pieces of celery, onion, and carrot) thyme, parsley, garlic and boxed chicken broth. I like to use the boxed broth-it jump starts the flavor. After cooking the base until the chicken meat falls off the bones and the neck bones crumble with a pinch, I chill it overnight so the fat rises and can be skimmed off.

Call me a sissy but I hate to fondle cold meat. Squishing ground meat for meatloaf makes my fingers ache just thinking about it. The same is true with cold slimy chicken. After skimming the fat I warm the base until it is comfortable to plunge my digits in and commence to separate the meat from the bones and vegetables. It’s tedious but the happy wag from our dog’s docked tail keeps me filling the bowl for his breakfast.

Strained and golden, the broth is ready to turn into a soup. Originally I was going to do the usual; chicken vegetable with a medley of summer’s end vegetables undulating in the crock pot. This morning is another day and looking over at the pyramid of tomatoes cascading across the counter I realized I should branch out. Scurrying downstairs to my study I grabbed Splendid Soups by James Peterson Bantam Books CO 1993.

Page 394 held the answer to my soup du jour dilemma, Chicken Soup with Garlic, Saffron, Basil, & Tomatoes. I skimmed the ingredients and found I was only missing 3; leeks (a mixture of shallots and mild onions will suffice), turnips (no problem I’m not wild about them) and crusty French bread (everything bagels from Yom Kippur would step in). In a nod to France I grabbed some flageolets to substitute for cannellini and some chanterelles to ramp up the mushroom category. Then I stopped short. The recipe was for 4-8!I didn’t want that much sitting around for us. I used a little trick that works for me when making soups. I grab the size pot that will hold enough soup for us and use it for measurement. When it is full of all of the ingredients (in rough proportions to the recipe) the amount of soup made has been contained to a reasonable amount and I haven’t made vats. I fiddled and fondled until perfection was achieved!

I must say this turned out to be a sterling soup! Mixing in a portion of the saffron garlic added a creamy element and fresh garlic flavor. The basil cream gave a fresh herb flavor. All in all this would be a great entertaining dish or after skiing soup. All I need now are a few more friends or lessons in skiing!

I will give you the list of ingredients but you will have to mold the soup around your palate and larder. Have fun & Happy Eating!
Fennel
Leek
Carrot
Turnip
Mushrooms
Bouquet garni
Chicken broth
Tomatoes
Chicken
Basil
Olive oil
Heavy cream
Cannellini beans
Spinach
S&P
Saffron & Garlic Mayonnaise
French bread
Soup is made from leeks, carrots, turnips, mushrooms, bouquet garni, and chicken broth. Poach chicken in this, shred. Add peeled and seeded tomatoes make green sauce with basil olive oil and heavy cream. Make saffron & garlic mayonnaise stir some in soup save some for garnish add rest of ingredients sans bread. Put bread on the bottom soup on top with saffron garlic mayo and basil cream.

Fall is Crashing In

September and October on the edge are a couple of months of perfect weather and fresh produce strawberries, raspberries plums and peaches are in profusion but quietly being nudged out by honey crisp, braeburn and granny smiths. Tomato plants haven’t given up and are still in frenzied production. Winter squash is squatting next to purple majesty and German butter potatoes.

Each day I switch between summer grilling and oven cooking. I wonder when we eat outside if it will be the last of the season. It takes longer for the house to warm up- we just put on another layer.

Last night it was summer and we made ribs. Not the slow cook kind but a somewhat quicker version. I patted the ribs with a dry rub and wrapped them in foil letting them “marinate” for a couple of hours in the fridge.

When ready the NSSP fired up the grill and cooked them covered for a little over an hour. He then took them out of the foil and slathered them with bbq sauce and finished them on a slow flame to crisp and caramelize. It wasn’t fall off the bone perfection but darn good Friday night vittles. I whipped up some classic cole slaw channeling my mother-in-law’s recipe and of course our daily intake of tomatoes.

Why Do I Think Of These Labor Intensive Tasks?

 

Last year I held a Bastille Day celebration and thought the only way to serve raspberries was to stuff them with melted chocolate. It was a decadent end to the evening and a perfect marriage but gee wiz what a gooey nightmare!

This year as an additional appetizer to the salmon mousse below I dreamed up these tasty morsels. Who in their right mind is going to hollow out cherry tomatoes (these babies were miniature plums from our garden) pat them dry, minuscule mince chives and uber chiffonade basil alternating on top and below with red dragon mustard cheese and mozzeralla pearls?

All I could think about was that it was only for 4 and I wasn't doing the deed on 1/2 sheet pans for the masses.

They were cute,and tasty and yes I will do them again.

The Little Things You Learn On The Cusp Of Your 25th Anniversary

On the cusp of our 25th Anniversary I thought I pretty much knew my NSSP's likes and dislikes. I mean lets face it I cook and he eats. It's a pretty easy division of duties. That fateful night it was a simple meal of large tube pasta, herbs, garlic, and chopped tomatoes.The tomatoes turned warm after the addition of the hot cooked pasta. It was a pleasant meal with the usual candles,jazz, and wine. We chatted as couples do about nothing profound in fact I am certain we were talking about our animals and wayward daughter probably in that order.

My plate was licked clean it was delicious and uncomplicated. I looked over at his plate and found herbs and pasta gone and a neat pile of chopped tomatoes to the side.

"Was there something wrong with the pasta?" I queried knowing full well that I had made yet another perfect meal.

"No I don't like warm tomatoes." he sheepishly admitted.

"Wait a minute! You like raw tomatoes, tomato sauce, ketchup, salsa and you don't like fresh slightly warm tomatoes in a sauce?" My voice started to squeak.

"You know I don't like those broiled tomatoes." he mumbled.

"Who does? Their gummy, burnt and soggy all at the same time. Slightly warm tomatoes fall into the same category?" I looked at those innocent red flavorful chunks that had been cast off as inedible and were cooling their jets as we argued.

"Is there anything else I should know about your likes and dislikes?" I pondered creating a form for him to fill out.

"No...Not really," the NSSP gave me his most winning smile trying get the dinner back on track and perhaps into a romantic culmination of the evening.

I'll let you finish the story as you feel fit...

A Casual and Special Dinner for Friends

I recently invited a couple over for dinner. I would describe the meal as casually elegant. For appetizers I made salmon mousse with dill. Instead of using canned salmon I used the real thing and poached it in a court bouillon (wine, celery, onions, carrots, thyme & tarragon). I removed the skin and any feather bones lurking in the meat and cooked it until it was firm when gently squeezed. Leaving it in the liquid over night, the salmon retained its moisture. The next day I put it in the food processor with Neufchatel cheese (a light cream cheese substitute), fresh squeezed lemon juice, salt, white pepper and dried dill. It was puréed until silky smooth. The rich pink color and fresh subtle taste made it sublime.

Next I stuffed cherry tomatoes with Red Dragon cheese, a cheese studded with mustard seeds. Our first course was a red and green pepper soup with a splash of heavy cream to smooth the flavor out. Our entrée was grilled lamb chops with lemon and rosemary. A no-brainer since my NSSP (Not So Silent Partner) took care of the dirty work. The rest of the plate was a riot of color. I steamed purple new potatoes and garnished them with chopped chives. Next there were sautéed Romano beans that had been cut into diagonal pieces, sautéed in garlic oil and topped with toasted garlic chips. Nestled in the center of the plate were a healthy serving of chopped tomatoes finished with a turn from my black pepper grinder and French sea salt.

Dessert? Apple strudel made with the first apples of the season. What made it easy was that I didn’t have to tear around looking for recipes nor reinvent the wheel to impress. Also most of it was done beforehand a requirement for any entertaining culinary event I create. More pictures will follow!

Getting Connected

I knew I had stopped 'blogging" but didn't know it was over a year ago. One day the thoughts just flitted away and dried up. I'm starting to feel my muse and she's jumping up and down on my shoulder. If Julia can write "Mastering" in her 40's and be an icon into her '90's I should be able to make my mark as well.

For little snippets and quotes I'm twittering. Longer items will be blogged.

Onward and upward!

Poor Paula

I don't know how she does it- Does Paula Deen lay in bed thinking of how to gross out the public? Does she read old Velveeta cookbooks or Chez Wiz creations? There was a posting on www.seriouseats.com with a youtube attachment of a "dip" recipe that you would be "proud" to take to any party. Not only will the five ingredients clog your arteries but your disposal as well. I don't know about you but my friends would become seriously worried if I showed up with a vat of this stuff to go with saltines and club crackers.
Here goes-
1 stick butter (what the hell lets do it with salted marjorine)
8 oz. cream cheese
1/2 cup full fat mayonaise
6oz jarred cheese
and for flavor-
1 t garlic powder.....
just blend and go and be the culinary belle of the ball!! ya'll...
Do you have any classically bad recipes in your archives?
Share and laugh

Egg on Pizza? Try it you'll like it!!

I've recently been reading a thread about egg on pizza. The august intelligentsia's that were discussing this phenomena were trying to delve into the historical origin. Now I fully admit that I am not a collage professor nor do I ponder many whys and wherefores in the culinary world. I do read zillions of cookbooks and anything that mentions food.

With that said-egg on pizza seems to me to be a natural. I fantasized about my non-existent Italian grandmother who would forage for fresh eggs from our free range chickens, climb a ladder and cut down the drying prosciutto to slice paper thin pieces. She would send my fictitious brother Guido to the garden for sun warmed tomatoes and fragrant basil and parsley.There we were, sitting in the dimming light of our kitchen around the wood table covered with nicks and burns from previous generations. Our wood burning oven, stoked with wood we all had gathered was baking the pizza.What better healthy meal could this be?

It was Friday night at our house. A day that I set aside for "fun food". After my NSSP (Not So Silent Partner) suggested light food,-fish, chicken, rice- I suggested pizza. Having been on the road and eating with his sales crowd he mentioned having pizza the previous night. Not missing a marital beat however he said it could hardly compare to my homemade version. (you've got to love a smooth talker!!) At this point I hadn't told him of my burning urge to crack said egg on pizza and I thought it wise that he be lulled into thoughts of our usual Italian delight, sausage, mushroom, onion, and chiffonade basil.

My foodie neighbor and I call our favorite grocery store "church" and on Friday I crossed its threshold with a mission. Mumbling a litany of vegetables as I stroked them. "Ah... fresh peas!! they must go with something! and what's this a pile of fava beans?? Vidalia onions? Oh, my." But wait! I looked at my watch and realized that I couldn't make my own dough in time and I would have to buy fresh dough. Slipping into high gear I dashed the outer edges of church genuflecting and grabbing ingredients.

Only 6 thin slices of prosciutto, 3 ripe tomatoes, a bag of basil, 2 handfuls of crimini mushrooms, fresh mozzarella, pizza dough and away I went. I quickly unloaded the groceries at home and turned on our "pizza oven" (wondering how hot the oven ever got). And then the question-

"What kind of pizza are we having tonight?" I put on my best happy voice and launched into my quest for egg pizza. It was met with curiosity, a shrug, and when's dinner. Left alone with my ingredients I began my inner dialogue in earnest.

"What goes first? How to layer the ingredients? Should egg be whole and fried? Broken yolk? Scrambled? Cheese on top? Basil? Is the G## D###m oven hot yet?

Here are the answers to these burning questions and more...

I stretched out two pizza doughs into rectangles put thin ribbons of proscuitto on top, sliced tomatoes, random sliced mushrooms and very finely diced vidalia onions. Chopped parsley and basil next. Little orbs of fresh mozerella. I put the pizza in the oven for a couple of minutes to firm up then cracked the eggs on top. At the last minute I made the decision to break the yolk not trusting my oven to cook the egg before burning the dough.

The result? A very rich and filling dish with all of the components of an American breakfast. Served with salad, fruit, and wine we watched HBO's"Rome".
Hail Caesar! and Bon Appetit!