Lady Bean

Saucy Chicken

2007-05-25T07:30:00.000-06:00

Condiments make good food great. A hearty mustard can turn a sandwich into a feast, the proper aioli makes french fries gourmet; and the right sauce on an ordinary chicken breast turns it into something downright swoon-worthy. I found this recipe on the cookthink blog, and I've made it about four times since. Each time, I've modified it a bit, but we've been pretty good about sticking to the standard recipe. We even tried it with lamb, which was absolutely heavenly. The basic recipe is simple, and could be modified in so many ways that it's nearly ridiculous. The lamb, though, was a real winner. Here is the chicken version, which D. and I dubbed "saucy chicken." It's saucy, and it's chicken, so... I think the name is fairly accurate.

Saucy Chicken with Tomato and Capers
This particular recipe has a southern Italian flair to it, combining succulent tomatoes with the brine unique to capers. Add some wine and broth for a rich base -- along with some garlic and onions, of course -- and you have a beautifully complex sauce that permeates the chicken wonderfully. This particular recipe serves two, but you can double the recipe easily and make enough for four (or for two portions: it's very good the next day.)
Begin by prepping your tomatoes, which is the most time-consuming part of this recipe. Core 4 ripe plum tomatoes and slice into quarters. Remove the seeds and dice finely. Set aside and julienne one half of a small white onion. Finely mince two large cloves of garlic.
Season both sides of two chicken breast halves with a generous amount of salt and pepper. Warm 1 teaspoon of olive oil in a large, heavy sautépan over medium heat. When the oil is shimmering and just begins to smoke, add the chicken breasts to the pan and shake so that they do not stick. Allow them to brown for five minutes without moving them at all -- it's tempting, isn't it, but it will leave you with a less-tasty sauce in the end, and no one wants that. After five minutes, turn the chicken over and brown the other side for an equal amount of time. When both sides are evenly brown and delicious-looking, remove them from the pan.
Add another teaspoon of olive oil to the pan and, after it shimmers (shouldn't take long, the pan's already hot) add the onions and cook slowly. When you take the chicken out of the pan, you should be left with some tasty-looking brown spots. Don't try to move them, or remove them, from the pan -- those are going to be the basis for your sauce, and the more stuff, the better. When the onions are soft and beginning to brown, add the garlic and cook until you can smell it. That only takes about thirty seconds (I'm not kidding) and burned garlic is the bane of every cook's existence. It can seriously ruin anything. After the garlic becomes fragrant, crank up the heat and stir in a half a cup of red wine. It's gonna sizzle! Scrape the bottom of the pan, now, furiously, so that you get all those tasty bits up and cookin' in the sauce. Add a half a cup of chicken broth (I always use low sodium, and you should, too, especially if you add salt to the dish anyhow) and the chopped tomatoes. Stir everything together and reduce the heat to medium.
Now, add the chicken back into the pan, burrowing it into the sauce so that it can cook fully -- to 165º -- the temperature continues to rise (to about 170º or 175º -- I like my meat cooked fully) after you remove the chicken from the pan, by the way. At this point, I stick a thermometer into the chicken so that I know it's done before I serve it. It should only take about three to four minutes per side to finish cooking. When you're ready to flip it, add 1 tablespoon of drained capers to the sauce. When the chicken reaches the right temperature, it's ready to serve. It's wonderful with something starchy on the side, like rice, because the excess sauce can be dabbled around on the plate, soaked up by the rice, and enjoyed more fully. I enjoyed it with strips of zucchini (simply broiled for a few minutes, flipping halfway through) as you can see in the photograph. And, obviously, it should be served with a glass of that red wine: you didn't open a bottle just to cook with, right?!

Tsimmis

2007-05-24T07:10:00.000-06:00

I promised this, and I can't go back on a promise. It's been far too long, it's been far too crazy, but... I have some slightly reasonable excuses to back me up. But really? I apologize for my absence. Here's the tsimmis recipe I promised so very, very long ago. And it starts with... another apology! I started this post so long ago that I was already apologizing for not posting!

A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away...
I know it's been awhile since I've posted, and it's entirely my own fault. Things have gotten away from me lately and my usual routine of logging in, typing about, and arranging photos has been replaced by... work. Lots and lots of wholesome, mind-numbing, soul-crushing work. Cleaning, paying bills, not cooking... Well, I'm back, and I have a slew of recipes to share with you. This one is a Passover dish, which I'm regrettably late for: it ended on Tuesday evening. [Hi! It's me, in the present! Tuesday evening, two months ago!] I must warn you: I'm not Jewish, which means that I have learned what I know about this through patient teaching from my beloved D. By no means am I an authority on this subject. If you want to learn more, try checking out this awesome website, kosher4passover. I especially like their tagline: "Why is this website different from all other websites?" To find the answer, go see for yourself! Anyhow, to put it simply, Passover is a Jewish holiday that commemorates the Exodus from ancient Egypt, when the Israelites were freed from slavery. During Passover, or Pesach, no leavening may be used in any foods. Unleavened bread, known as matzo, is eaten in the place of bread, crackers, and any other bread-like substance, to remember the hasty departure of the exodus from Egypt. When the Israelites left, there was no time to wait for the bread to rise before baking; thus, unleavened bread was taken on the journey. We eat matzo during Passover to remind us of our beginnings and to symbolize freedom from slavery. So: no leavening, for a week. This is simultaneously difficult and easy: lots of meals, like steak and potatoes, for example, contain no leavening and make the restriction seem like a treat. But no sandwiches, pizza, noodles -- it becomes pretty obvious that it's not easy to cook unique, delicious meals without using flour. And let's not even talk about breakfast foods, like my beloved muffins: I'm still waiting to make those again, which is frightening. They are my comfort, my solace, my breakfast.
Luckily, we made a tsimmis for the first Seder last week, and we made way too much of it, so I did have some good, hearty food to eat before leaving for work during Passover. This stuff will last until the end of time: we made a giant bucketful of it, thinking that it would be one of the main courses at the Seder we attended. A few of the people at the Seder are vegetarians, and most Passover meals center around meat courses, so I thought that our vegetarian tsimmis would serve as a main dish for the vegetarians. Not so: I should really pay attention more. Tsimmis is a side dish! There were plenty of vegetarian options and only about half of our tsimmis was consumed, leaving us with a casserole dish full of the stuff to lug back downtown.
Tsimmis is extremely easy to make, and it's basically like a fruit stew. The word roughly translates to mean "fuss," such as, "Don't make a big tsimmis out of it!" That makes it sound like the dish itself is difficult to make, but this is not the case. I think that it's called tsimmis because it's a big mix of crazy ingredients, a big mess of things strewn into a pot and boiled until it becomes a syrupy stew. And ya'll know how easy stew is to make, right? Tsimmis is equally easy, but more fun. It's traditionally a dish made for Rosh Hashanah, given the inclusion of carrots and honey -- sweet food for a sweet new year -- but D'.s aunt requested we make it for the seder, and we were happy to oblige. By the way, it's pronounced "Simmis," in case you were wondering. Shouldn't I have told you that a little earlier?

Tsimmis
Begin by combining 1 cup of apple juice with 1 cup of water and 3/4 a cup of pineapple juice in a large, heavy saucepan. By the way, 3/4 of a cup is equal to one 6 ounce can, which is easy to find in most grocery stores. Bring this mixture to a slow boil and remove from the heat.
Add 2 cups dried apricots and 1/2 a cup of dark raisins and allow the fruit to steep for about 15 minutes, until the pieces are overly plump and juicy.
While the fruit is soaking, chop 1 pound of carrots into rounds -- don't use baby carrots for this, the large chunks are usually fresher and better for cooking. Add 1 pound of sweet potatoes, peeled and chopped. If your grocery store doesn't have a scale (mine doesn't -- you have to give your produce to a guy and he weighs it -- what is up with that?) two medium-sized sweet potatoes will usually yield enough for this recipe. The recipe also calls for 2 cups of freshly chopped pineapple, but I have a confession: we used canned (although I really enjoy chopping pineapple -- it's so satisfyingly difficult -- I was already committing to such a large recipe that it seemed overwhelming, and expensive, to chop that much pineapple. The canned stuff worked fine.)
Stir the carrots, sweet potatoes, and pineapple into the liquid and dried fruit. Add 3 good-sized strips of lemon zest, 3 tablespoons of fresh lemon juice (that's about one lemon, squeezed until it's dry,) 1/4 cup of honey, 1/4 cup of brown sugar, and a small pinch of salt. Stir until combined, then bring the mixture to a boil over high heat. Once it boils, reduce the heat to medium and simmer, covered, for ten minutes.
Uncover and continue cooking until the carrots and potatoes are soft and tender, stirring occasionally. The juice should reduce to a thick, richly-flavored sauce. Although the original recipe says that this should only take about 20 minutes, it took us much, much longer -- about 40 minutes total. I probably made the carrots and potatoes too large, so keep them small.
When the carrots and sweet potatoes are soft and pliable, remove the tsimmis from the heat and discard the cinnamon sticks. Correct the seasoning to taste: tsimmis should be sweet but not sugary, and a bit tart. Serve warm.
Or serve cold. It is excellent the next day, as the flavors really combine and become a saucy, tasty mess. Or a tasty fruit stew, I should say. It really is delicious, albeit a little strange, and it's perfect anytime, not just for holidays.
[Edit 5/25: Pictures are here! I did it in a timely fashion, too!]

Banana Muffins with Crystallized Ginger

2007-03-27T07:00:00.000-06:00

I know, it's been a week -- a long time to go incommunicado in blog-land. I swear, I have a good reason: I'm busy! Very, very, busy. Also? Very, very stressed: lots of decision-making looms ahead, and being the type of person that can't even decide what to eat for lunch most days means that making real decisions is extremely difficult. But I asked for it, and it's the best type of decision-making to do, choosing between wonderful things. It could be much worse. Good thing I had some banana-nut muffins to soothe me through last week; without them, I would have simply melted under the pressure.
I mentioned this when I made the Red Fire Brownies, but I'll say it again: although I'm not the type of person to throw a recipe together from scratch, by my lonesome (with plenty of references, I admit) I'm trying to work on that. I want to be confident in the kitchen, and confidence requires experimentation -- at least in this case. So after making those delicious, almost-fudge brownies, I had to forge ahead and try another recipe of my own creation. It didn't hurt that the brownies were a complete success. I'd been eying Molly's delicious-sounding "Glenn's Banana Bread with Chocolate Chips and Candied Ginger" for quite some time, but I wasn't that interested in a bread. I wanted something more compact, something easy to eat with one hand while walking to work in the morning, something that required only four large bites to consume. I wanted a muffin. Muffins are one of my favorite types of baked goods, aside from popovers, scones, croissants -- oh, I can't pick a favorite. I like all baked goods equally, especially those made for consumption in the morning, when the dew hasn't yet dried and the air is heavy with promise. But don't get me wrong: these muffins are just as delicious at midnight as they are at six in the morning: they've got a perfect, crunchy exterior that lifts away to reveal a moist, chocolate-filled interior. Crumbs are non-existent: you'll gobble what little there is of them right up, using the last bite of muffin to squeeze them off of your plate. They're absolutely delicious, and I'm not kidding when I say that you'll make a batch and soon regret not doubling or tripling the batter. The chocolate and nuts are ordinary additions to most banana muffins (or to banana bread, for that matter) but the ginger brings out the sweetness of the chocolate and provides a wonderful contrast to the bits of walnuts strewn about in the muffin. These three ingredients dot the inside of the muffin with an array of pleasing tastes and textures, and the banana provides a smooth underlying note of sweetness, enveloping the entire muffin with a mildly fruity, pleasing taste.

Banana Nut Muffins with Chocolate and Crystallized Ginger
Begin by bringing all ingredients to 70º. This prevents them from seizing up when they're mixed together. Cold eggs, especially, tend to "freak out" when they're beaten with sugar and butter, making your batter tough. Besides, it's nearly impossible to cream cold butter: I dare you to try it. If you succeed, your muffins won't: they'll turn out rough and brittle, scattering crumbs every which way while you try to eat the darn things.
Preheat the oven to 400º and grease a muffin tin with six spots. This recipe makes only six glorious muffins, which is why I recommend doubling or even tripling the size; however, I'd caution against using just one muffin tin for multiple batches without cooling it down completely between sets. These have just the right amount of crunch in their crust, and putting the batter into a hot pan would give them too much of a hard outer shell, in my opinion.
Now we're ready to get our hands dirty. Start by creaming 1/2 a cup of sugar with 1/2 a stick of butter (that's 1/4 cup for all of you with fancy butter like mine) and 1 large egg. In a separate bowl, mash 1 large, ripe banana and stir in 1-1/2 tablespoons of milk. Speaking of ripe bananas, you can take ripened (to the point of nearly rotten) bananas and chuck them right into the freezer until you're ready to bake with them. Simply remove them from the freezer a bit before you're going to bake and allow them to thaw. The fruit will slide right out of the jacket in a slippery mess. Once they are completely thawed, the bananas are very easy to mash.
In a third bowl, sift together 1 cup of unbleached all-purpose flour, 1/2 a teaspoon baking powder, and 1/4 a teaspoon baking soda. Mix half of the flour mixture into the creamed butter, sugar, and egg; then, add the bananas and milk and stir until just combined. Stir in the remaining flour. Be sure not to overmix the batter -- that makes the resulting muffin tough and unappetizing. Once the batter is combined, fold in 3 tablespoons of crystallized ginger, reserving an additional tablespoon to top the muffins, along with 1/3 a cup of chopped walnuts and 1/2 to 3/4 of a cup of chocolate chips. I used Ghirardelli bittersweet chips with fantastic results -- they've got a slightly flowery taste and are cloyingly mellow. Next time I make these, however, I'm going to use another Vosges bar: Black Pearl, which has hints of ginger and wasabi. As you may know, I am partial to chopped chocolate -- chips are too uniform for my taste -- and I'm excited to try another one of these delectable savory/sweet chocolate combination bars with these muffins, which are already crammed to the gills with flavor. I only hope that it isn't too overpowering.
After folding in the nuts, chips, and ginger, spoon the batter into your muffin cups. Be sure to fill them nearly to the brim: I like the tops of muffins best of all, and you can only achieve a tasty, puffy top by nearly overfilling the muffin cups. Top the muffins with a sprinkle of sugar and a healthy pinch of crystallized ginger. Bake in the 400º oven for about 25 minutes, removing when they just begin to brown and a toothpick inserted in the center comes out with just a few stray crumbs clinging to its sides. Allow to cool for 5 minutes while still in the pan, then remove and finish cooling on a wire rack. They're absolutely drop-dead-delicious with coffee or tea, by the way.
You can purchase crystallized ginger, also known as candied ginger, at many stores. Spice Island even offers it in a spice jar for your convenience, which means that it's easy to procure at nearly every grocery store. If you're not interested in paying ten dollars for a miniature jar of ginger and you're not able to get to a Trader Joe's or a Whole Foods -- they both sell it for less than Spice Island, naturally -- you can try making your own. It's similar to the process I discussed in the comments section of the Red Fire Brownies for candying hot peppers.
Purchase some fresh ginger at your supermarket. Be on the lookout for thin, tender, evenly-skinned ginger that smells pleasant and feels firm. Spongy ginger should be avoided. Purchasing about 10 ounces of ginger will yield 6 ounces of crystallized ginger, which works out to 12 full tablespoons -- and 12 tablespoons will not seem like enough once you start using the stuff. It can be stored, though, in a cool dry place, so making more than necessary is definitely a good idea. Carefully peel the ginger and remove any rough or darkened spots. In addition, cut off any of the knobs and reserve to use in a separate dish. Cut into long, thin strips -- about 2 inches by 1/8 of an inch -- and poke holes in the flesh with a sharp knife. Place the slices in a bowl filled with 2 cups of sugar and toss to coat.
Heat a heavy-bottomed saucepan and add 1 tablespoon of water to the hot pan. Pour in the ginger and sugar and bring it up to a very low simmer. Keep your eye on the stuff for about an hour, stirring occasionally. Don't allow it to boil; keep the mixture at a very low simmer and on a relatively low heat. After an hour has passed, lower the heat and allow the mixture to simmer again, stirring all the while and separating the slices from one another with your spoon. Soon, the mixture will begin to crystallize and become thick; a rim of sugar will collect around the sides of the pan. The mixture will start to bubble over the surface, at which point you must stir to prevent the mixture from caramelizing. Don't allow the sugar to caramelize -- if it does, you've gone too far and the ginger will be unusable. Stir until the syrup is mostly crystals and you can gather the sugar in the center of the pan in a mound without much liquid escaping. At this point, remove from the heat and continue to toss as it cools, being sure that the slices stay separated. The ginger should separate from the sugar at this point. Lay the ginger on a clean cookie tray or on a plate to cool and store in a dark, dry place.

Corned Beef and Cabbage

2007-03-20T21:53:00.000-06:00

Well, St. Patrick's day has come and gone, and since I wasn't about to eat two corned beefs this year -- a test recipe and then some on the actual day, although D would have jumped for joy -- I wasn't able to post this recipe before the actual holiday. So sue me -- it's late, but better late than never. I suppose I could have live-blogged the whole thing, but... corned beef just isn't that interesting. It's pretty basic: throw some spices and a lump of beef into a pot, add some water, and simmer. For hours. See, not a very wild and crazy event that necessitates live-blogging -- lots of down time and wasted minutes peering into a pot of meat. But the results are fabulous, about what you'd expect from boiling four pounds of beef for three hours, so it's certainly something worth making. We selected a 3-pound brisket made by Vienna Beef.
Vienna Beef is one of Chicago's true treasures. They claim to have invented the Chicago hot dog, which is the best type of hot dog in the entire universe: an all-beef kosher dog, eight to the pound, nestled in a poppyseed bun and topped with yellow mustard, chopped onion, neon relish, tomato wedges, a whole pickle spear, celery salt, and sport peppers. If you want to see a handy, clickable chart (which has an error: ketchup is not permitted on Chicago-style dogs no matter what you say, Vienna Beef People, and I know this as fact: Hot Diggity Dogs, one of my favorite hot dog shacks, has a pretty strict rule about this that necessitates a stern warning sign) head on over to Vienna Beef's Periodic Table of Hot Dog Elements. I promise this now: I will force D to do a guest post on hot dogs, done up proper Chicago-style, sometime in the near future. They're one of his favorite things about Chicago, and for good reason. Anyhow, Vienna Beef is also good for other meat-based and meat-related products, such as corned beef. Did you know, by the way, that the corned beef we know and love isn't what they eat in Ireland? Surprise! It's been Americanized! While we cure our corned beef by brining or pickling it, the traditional method was to cure it by rubbing a side of pork using large grains -- or corns -- of salt. So the dish is very different than traditional Irish fare, which is more like boiled bacon. Do you want to try and make that? Be my guest: check out this wonderful recipe for authentic "corned beef" -- they call it Boiled Bacon -- at EuropeanCuisines.com. But that's not what we made: I was raised on American Corned Beef, and that's what I have to have in my kitchen on St. Patrick's Day.
One of the best things about cooking corned beef is that it's a one-pot recipe, which I always enjoy. Instead of mucking around with the entire stove, four pots boiling away, you only need one large pot for this recipe. We used our lobster pot, which isn't good for much but taking up room in the cabinet -- it's got a very thin bottom -- but it's perfect for boiling a large hunk of meat. You'll need at least an 8-quart stockpot for this recipe, but the larger your pot is, the better your dish will be: more water means more leftover stock, which can turn ordinary rice, couscous, soups, and stews into phenomenal culinary masterpieces.

Corned Beef and Cabbage
Begin by rinsing one corned beef brisket -- we chose one that was 3 pounds -- and place it in your stockpot, fatty side up. You need a stockpot that's at least 8 quarts. Make five to eight deep X marks in the beef using a sharp knife. Insert 2 to 3 whole cloves in some of the X's and 5 whole cloves of peeled garlic into the remaining X-marks. Our beef had slightly too many cloves in it -- we used four whole cloves total -- and I'd recommend only using two for better results. Cover the meat with water until the meat is about three inches below the water level (we used about 12 cups of water total).
Add spices: the Vienna Beef recipe requires 1/2 a teaspoon of Old Bay seasoning, which isn't something I keep on hand, so I improvised. Old Bay is just a blend of spices, typically made with bay leaves, dry mustard, celery salt, ground black and white pepper, nutmeg, cloves, allspice, ginger, paprika, crushed red pepper flakes, mace, cardamom, and salt, so it's fairly easy to replicate. I simply put a dash of whatever I had in my pantry from that list (see photograph) and the resulting blend was intoxicating. In addition to the Old Bay seasoning, add 2 cinnamon sticks (again: don't keep those in my house, but I probably should: a simple shake of cinnamon worked just fine) along with 2 bay leaves and 8 whole peppercorns.
Slice two large carrots and one stalk of celery into 2-inch long chunks and add those to the pot as well. Now that all of the major ingredients are in the pot, add some heat. Bring the entire thing to a boil and skim off any of the foam that rises to the top of the water, then reduce the heat to a simmer. Simmer for two to three hours, until the meat is tender, then add vegetables.
We used cabbage, of course, and simply quartered one large head into manageable chunks. In addition, we threw in about 1-1/2 pounds of scrubbed baby red potatoes, skin on; 4 parsnips, peeled and sliced into 1-inch chunks; 2 turnips, peeled and cut into 1-inch cubes; and 1 pound of carrots, peeled and chopped into 2-inch pieces. When you have about 30 to 45 minutes remaining, add the vegetables to the pot and simmer until they're tender. The beef should be 160º before serving, and will still look pink when served.
The best thing about corned beef and cabbage has got to be the leftovers. Not only do you end up with a fantastic stock, you'll undoubtedly have at least some meat leftover. It's perfect in sandwiches, delicious when cut into small cubes and fried with potatoes into corned beef hash, and is a great appetizer when served with capers and mustard. Of course, a cold corned beef sandwich is the perfect way to get rid of any remaining meat: simply throw some on a roll with a generous slather of mustard and top with leftover cabbage.

Red Fire Brownies

2007-03-19T20:19:00.000-06:00

Ever since Valentine's day, when D got me those spectacular Vosges truffles, I've been itching to bake with some of their specialty chocolate. They make all sorts of flavors: Red Fire, a kicking combination of Mexican ancho and chipotle chili peppers with Ceylon cinnamon; d'Oliva, Venezuelan white chocolate spiked with dried kalamata olives; Calindia, a rich, dark chocolate bar infused with green cardamom, organic walnuts, and flecked with dried bits of plum. They're expensive -- $7.00 a bar -- but the price is worth it. The second we walked into the store, we were greeted by the only saleswoman, who then proceeded to bring out plates filled with chocolate nibs, trays of chocolate matzos, and crumbly bits of spicy cookies. Every time we glanced at something on the shelf, we were offered a taste -- which meant that we ate about $5.00 worth of chocolate during our short stay.
We settled on one bar and one bag of chocolate chips, which contains an extra ounce of chocolate for a mere $1.50 more. I wanted to make some ultra decadent, fiery brownies, and three ounces of chocolate just wasn't going to be enough. Obviously, we chose the Red Fire chips: a compact white bag of chocolate discs that smelled hot before the bag was even opened. The bar that we bought is Black Pearl (an intensely dark, spicy brick of chocolate, ginger, wasabi, and sesame seeds) which I'll be using on another batch of banana nut muffins with chocolate chips and candied ginger -- stay tuned for that delicious post. I've never made more successful muffins. Ever. And I'm extremely excited to notch up their flavor even more with the black pearl chocolate.
As I mentioned, the Red Fire chocolate is a rich, dark chocolate -- vegan and gluten free, by the way -- that contains flecks of both ancho and chipotle chili peppers. The moderate cacao content of this particular chocolate (55%) makes it less intensely bitter than, say, their Oaxaca chocolate, which is also made with chili peppers but contains a much lower percentage of sugar. I find their Oaxaca flavor a bit bland, as a matter of fact -- the amount of sugar really contrasts with the chilies in the Red Fire, heightening the sensation that one is eating something simultaneously sweet and hot. In the Oaxaca blend, the lower ratio of sugar to spice kind of dulls that sensation. The texture, too, of the Red Fire bar is superior to any other chocolate I've tasted. The chilies are carefully crushed, and they bring a layer of roughness to the smooth chocolate. This roughness didn't translate into the brownies, exactly, but the spiciness certainly did. I would have liked to have added some more chili peppers directly into the batter -- the chips come with a recipe for BB Brooklyn Red Fire Brownies that includes freshly ground Guajillo chilies (along with 10 whole ounces of the Red Fire chocolate, a huge amount compared to my recipe, which contains a paltry 4 oz.) -- but I didn't have those peppers on hand, and I wasn't going to make a separate trip for one teaspoon of chili peppers. Besides, I was trying my hand at creating my own brownie recipe, a task that I believe was extremely successful. While I do love experimenting in the kitchen, I'm often afraid to deviate too far from any given recipe, especially when I'm baking. This weekend, though, was a nice break from that standard: I hauled out eight or ten cookbooks and compared all the brownie recipes (as well as all the muffin recipes, for those aforementioned banana muffins) and was able to concoct a recipe of my very own. It was quite simple, actually: especially for something like brownies or muffins, the recipes are all going to be about the same. There are slight differences in the amount of eggs and sugar, sure, and the temperatures and cooking times are bound to be different, but it's not too difficult to pull apart the pieces and end up with something that works. So, without further ado: Red Fire Brownies. And as a quick aside: if you can't find Vosges Chocolate in your area (it's a Chicago-based brand, with few stores outside of the Chicago area: there's one in New York City, London, Ann Arbor, Los Angeles, Honolulu, and Las Vegas) it's available to purchase online at their website: http://www.vosgeschocolate.com/. They recommend using 2-day air shipping, however, because the chocolates may melt in transit, so be ready to pay a good deal for shipping. Or! You could always ask me to pick some up for you and send it out: I'm more than happy for an excuse to go back to their store. If you're in the Chicago area, I urge you to stop by: they have a Michigan Ave. location at 520 North, which is small but has everything edible that they sell in stock, and the staff is both knowledgeable and extremely friendly. There's also a larger store at 951 W. Armitage in Lincoln Park, which stocks clothing and yoga gear in addition to the chocolates.

Red Fire Brownies
This is a fairly simple brownie recipe that requires little beyond melting some chocolate and butter, stirring it into a few eggs and sugar, and adding just a bit of flour and a few handfuls of nuts to round everything out. The results, though, are far from mundane: using the red fire chocolate and adding an additional swig of cinnamon and cayenne pepper makes these brownies deliciously complex, with a crunchy outer shell and a gooey, fudge-like center. The addition of two eggs makes the batter even gooier than a standard brownie, which creates a pool of spicy chocolate that quite literally melts in your mouth. Eating them warm only enhances the sensation that you're doing something terribly, terribly naughty, but they're just as good chilled -- and they stay together much better after they've cooled completely. I imagine the perfect dessert would be one of these brownies topped with a heaping scoop of cinnamon ice cream, drowned in extra melted chocolate, and garnished with a single dried red pepper.
Before you begin working with the ingredients, remove two eggs from the fridge and preheat the oven to 350º. You want the eggs to be at about 70º before you begin baking; otherwise, they'll begin to cook when you add the warm chocolate to the egg mixture. You will cool down the chocolate a bit before adding it to the batter, so this isn't too dire; however, if you forget to remove the eggs from the fridge in time, simply bathe them in a bowl of warm water for about 5 to 10 minutes until they're no longer chilly to the touch.
Begin by melting 4 ounces of Vosges Red Fire chocolate chips with 1/2 a cup of butter cut into squares. Do this over a double boiler. If you don't own a double boiler, make your own by placing a glass or metal bowl on top of a saucepan filled halfway with water. Just be sure that your homemade double boiler works properly by not allowing the bottom of the bowl to touch the top of the water. Another good double-boiler tip is to make sure that the water doesn't actually boil: you don't want to make your chocolate hotter than about 115º, so be careful when you heat the pot. Good chocolate melts at about 93º -- just below body temperature -- so it's not essential to heat it up that much to get it to melt properly. Melting chocolate isn't as easy as it seems: you can't get it too hot, as I mentioned, because that will begin to separate the cocoa solids from the cocoa butter, streaking the chocolate gray and making it grainy and unappetizing. Also, you must take great care to never allow any moisture to touch the chocolate as it melts: this is one reason that you shouldn't boil the water in the double-boiler: steam will rise and hit the chocolate, causing it to seize up and behave as if it was overheated.
Once most of the chocolate pieces have melted, remove the bowl from the hot saucepan and discard the water so that any remaining steam won't permeate the chocolate. It will continue to melt even after it has been removed from the heat source, so don't be alarmed if there are some small chunks of chocolate swimming about: like I mentioned before, you want to err on the side of cool chocolate rather than chocolate that's been overheated. Allow the mixture to cool -- if you add it to the eggs and sugar while it's still hot, your brownies will turn out heavy and dry rather than rich and gooey.
While the chocolate cools, rapidly beat two eggs and a pinch (less than 1/4 teaspoon) of salt in a large bowl with a whisk, until the mixture is light and foamy. At this point, I also added two shakes of cinnamon and two shakes of cayenne pepper. To the foamy eggs, gradually add 1 cup of white sugar -- I like to use superfine sugar. In baking, sugar is technically a liquid ingredient, and the finer it is, the less likely you are to end up with grainy bits in your brownies. Add 1 teaspoon of vanilla and continue to whisk until the mixture is smooth.
With just a few quick strokes of the spoon, mix in the melted chocolate. Even if you use an electric mixer for everything, this recipe is best mixed by hand -- not literally, of course, but by using a spoon or spatula -- because using a mixer can easily lead to over-beating. Before the mixture is entirely combined and becomes a uniform color, fold in 1/2 a cup of sifted flour. Folding the mixture carefully is a key to creating the right texture brownie. Before the mixture is entirely combined again, add 1/2 a cup of chopped nuts -- walnuts are a wonderful addition to any brownie, and in this recipe they add a wholesome flavor and welcome texture to an otherwise bold kick of fudge-like chocolate. You could also add 1 to 2 teaspoons of chopped dried red chili pepper at this point, which I will certainly do the next time I make these.
Bake at 350º for 25 to 30 minutes -- mine needed the entire time -- in a 9-inch round pan or an 8x8 inch square pan. Check out this handy pan size conversion chart for more pan sizes you could use at baking911.
Pan size, by the way, is very important when baking: using a smaller pan will result in brownies that are over or under cooked, too flat or too puffy, and can create a disaster out of a perfectly great recipe. When they're cooked, remove from the oven (they should still yield to pressure, however -- you want a soft brownie, not a brick) and allow them to cool for 10 to 20 minutes in the pan, then remove and allow to cool completely on a wire rack, if possible -- my brownies were much too gooey when warm, even after 20 minutes cooling, but I was impatient and they were certainly cooked through. I love eating brownies straight from the oven. These brownies in particular are a treat to eat while hot because it adds another layer to the spice and heat. And the chili peppers? Wonderful. Addictive, even. They really make the chocolate taste richer and sweeter than you could imagine. I only wish they had even more of a kick -- perhaps next time I'll throw in a few more shakes of cayenne pepper and a few minuscule squares of chili to really spice things up.

Fried Yukon Gold Potato Chips

2007-03-14T23:56:00.000-06:00

This isn't revolutionary, by any means, but it's thrilling: last night, we made our own potato chips. Ever since last week, when I made those scrumptious scallion cakes, I've been chomping at the bit to get frying. It's exhilarating, frying food: not only does it make a glorious mess, the result is addictive. I couldn't stop thinking about those scallion cakes -- their crunchy edges, their soft middles, their bold flavor... see, now I want some this instant! But the key to those little buggers is that they are fried: you could fry a shoe and it wouldn't taste half-bad. But when you fry something that already tastes good -- say, Yukon Gold Potatoes -- the result is nearly always to die for. Oh, I know, it's bad for you. Very, very bad. But once in awhile? It's ok -- especially since I don't usually eat fried food when I go out. That's sort of a lie, but we don't even stock potato chips in our apartment anymore. And I haven't eaten McDonald's in months -- I suppose this isn't something that I should be too proud of, but I live in America. There are always at least three McDonald's within walking distance, no matter where I am. I can see one from my office window, for crying out loud: fried food is everywhere. At least I'm making these potatoes myself, so I have some kind of control over the whole thing. We dried the chips pretty thoroughly and didn't salt them too heavily, which are two things that you could rarely ever say about fried food you get in a restaurant, fast food or otherwise.
So, to satisfy my craving for both eating and making fried food, we sliced up two round Yukon Gold potatoes and got to frying yesterday as a nice peppered roast broiled in the oven. It's fairly easy to fry things: all you need is a semi-deep frying pan, a set of tongs, and oil. We used Crisco vegetable oil, which is made from soybeans. Soybean oil has a very high smoke point* -- of about 440º -- which makes it ideal for deep-frying. The concept of smoke points is an essential one to master, especially if you frequently use fats while cooking. It refers to the point at which the fat (usually oil or butter) begins to smoke, which indicates that it is beginning to break down and is no longer good to consume. Essentially, when a fat reaches its smoking point, it burns and becomes unusable. Therefore, a higher smoke point allows one to heat the oil to a temperature that ensures quick, easy, and successful frying. Soybean oil is also wonderful to fry with because it has a mild taste and virtually no discernible flavor, allowing you to fry more delicate foods without fearing that their unique taste will be lost in the process. This is especially true with something like potato chips, which I like to cut extremely thin: they'll still taste like potatoes if you fry them in a mild oil, even if they're skinnier than a sheet of paper.

Fried Yukon Gold Potato Chips
Speaking of cutting the potatoes, D and I tried a new method yesterday, and it was fairly successful. Since we didn't want to stand in the kitchen all day, we decided to only fry two Yukon Gold potatoes, on the large side -- this whole debacle was a test, really, of our frying prowess, especially since I didn't let D participate very much when I made the scallion cakes. We each took a potato and tried separate methods. I did a standard knife-chop while D put our new box-grater to the test: it has three razor-like cuts along one side, sort of like a low-end vertical mandoline. Well, not exactly, but that's the closest thing I can imagine. If you own a box-grater, you'll know what I'm talking about. Anyhow, since this was a new kitchen item, D couldn't resist gliding a potato over it to see exactly how it would slice. It worked fairly well, although the potato was a bit large and kept getting caught on the second blade, and the slices weren't very uniform looking. Some of them were a bit raggedy for my tastes, but that didn't really effect the outcome, so it was fine. I would recommend using a real mandoline or just chopping by hand, though -- it seemed like more trouble than it was worth, especially given the results.
After chopping the potatoes, we poured about 1/2 to 3/4 cups of soybean oil into a frying pan over medium heat. We let the oil sit on the burner until it was wavy and shimmering, then we added about seven slices of potatoes to the oil. They began frying immediately, bubbling and jumping about recklessly. About 2 minutes in, we flipped them over with the tongs and allowed them to cook until both sides were beautifully golden -- about five minutes, total (2 minutes on the first side and 3 on the second.) Since the potatoes are essentially dunked and bathed in the hot oil, there's no need to watch them obsessively to make sure that both sides brown evenly -- the one flip should ensure a pretty even coloring. When they looked crispy, we removed them, one at a time, from the oil and allowed the excess to drip back into the pan. Then, we transferred them to a plate on two paper towels, sprinkled a tiny bit of salt over them, and placed three more towels on top of the potatoes. I patted them dry while D added the next batch to the oil. It took about 30 minutes to complete the entire batch (we got lazy at the end, a bit, and added many more than 7 to the oil) but the labor was well worth it. It was the perfect amount of chips for two people, and I found myself hankering for more. But I'm good -- I had a banana instead. See? Eating fried food doesn't totally ruin you! Especially if you follow it with fruit.
Wow: I just had a thought: fried fruit. Everybody wins!

*For more information on smoke points of other fats, visit this article at Cooking for Engineers, which is one of my favorite cooking websites. Check out the handy conversion window in the top right corner!

Irish Soda Bread

2007-03-13T20:27:00.000-06:00

The Joy of Cooking should be in every kitchen -- although some of the techniques and recipes are extremely outdated (I don't know anyone who really needs instructions on how to properly skin a seal and save the blubber) most of the information is relevant to the modern cook. It's especially helpful if you're looking for a basic recipe to build upon: their soup chapter, for example, is fabulous and offers unlimited opportunity to tweak and refine, which is something I often do in the kitchen. I'm especially partial to their chapter on Breads and Coffee Cakes, especially the Quick Breads section. In fact, most of their baking instructions are both simple and methodical, offering opportunity to experiment but retaining the essentials. Baking is basically chemistry, and I'm always concerned that a key part of my experiment will go awry if I deviate too much, but nothing that I've ever made from this cookbook has turned out wrong.
I mentioned their Quick Breads section, and I have to say that I'm quite averse to using yeast in doughs. It's not because I don't like it, per say, it just seems kind of frightening to me. I've branched out a bit recently: I've been making some pizza dough with surprising success that contains yeast, and I'm going to try a real loaf of bread at some point in the near future. I must conquer my fear of baking with yeast! I love baking, though, and I love breads, so I've made a whole slew of these quick breads from Joy. They're easy, fast, and most of them don't include yeast. Score! I always have success with their Zucchini Bread, and their Banana Bread recipe is great (although a bit boring, considering that there are banana breads out there that sound much more enticing. Ones with candied ginger and coconut. Hold me!) I have yet to try many of these quick loafs, however: honey bread, Sally Lunn (described as light and brioche-like) or Gugelhupf (which has white raisins in it!)
Last year for St. Patrick's day we made their quick Irish Soda bread, and it was both simple and fantastic. We'll certainly make it again this year, but with a few minor tweaks: I recall it being a bit bland. I will probably use a combination of butter and shortening instead of just shortening and I'll put in an extra pinch or two of sugar and salt. Also, this time I'll use real buttermilk: I have a habit of mixing white vinegar with regular milk to make buttermilk (did you know this trick? It works, but it's not as great -- at all -- as pure buttermilk. Simply add 1 tablespoon of vinegar to each 1 cup milk and stir. Allow it to sit on the counter for 10 to 15 minutes until the milk thickens: instant buttermilk!) I'll probably throw in an extra handful of raisins (which the recipe calls for instead of currants, a more traditional ingredient in Irish soda bread) and a few more caraway seeds for good measure. On the whole, though, this bread was extremely easy to make and has a wonderful texture. It's pretty hearty, and the recipe makes a gigantic loaf, so I might split it in half this time around: an 8-inch-round loaf that rises a few inches is a lot of bread for two people.

Quick Irish Soda Bread
Begin by preheating the oven to 375º and greasing an 8-inch round loaf pan. I always use a springform pan when I bake, not because it's any easier to deal with (although it is much easier to remove the bread from the pan!) but because I own three of them, in varying sizes. They were on sale and cost less than just buying one! How fortuitious. I recommend using a springform pan if you have one, because as I said before: it makes removing the bread extremely easy, but it's not necessary: a normal loaf pan should do just fine. Keep in mind, though, that the traditional way to serve Irish soda bread is in a round. I'm not sure why, exactly, but it's the traditional shape. Most likely because it's an easy shape to make. In case you were wondering, there are two types of traditional Irish soda bread: the round, which is crossed on the top in order to allow the loaf to expand, and a flat variety, called farl, which is found only in Northern Ireland.
As the oven preheats, mix together the following dry ingredients: 2 cups sifted all-purpose flour, 1-1/2 teaspoons double-acting baking powder, 1/2 teaspoon baking soda, 1/2 teaspoon salt, and 1 tablespoon sugar. As I said above, I may tweak this a bit, adding an extra pinch or two of the sugar and salt the next time around. I'm not sure, though -- I'm always afraid to mess with recipes like this! It's hard for me to tell what parts of it are integral to the "chemistry" aspect of baking and what parts are more malleable.
The next part of this recipe calls for chilled shortening, which is always a bit of a bugger. I keep my shortening in the pantry -- cool, but not chilly, by any means. So when I have to chill it, I simply measure the amount I need and pop it in the freezer for a few minutes until it's cold. In this case, I'll measure out 1/4 cup of shortening. After it's sufficiently chilly, cut it into the flour with a pastry blender until the mixture resembles cornmeal. As you probably guessed, I use my KitchenAid stand mixer for this and have never had any issues. What a great friend that little monster is! After the dough looks crumbly enough, add 1/2 a cup to 1 cup raisins (err on the side of too many, folks) and 2 teaspoons caraway seeds -- again, maybe 2 heaping teaspoons. On the side, mix together 1 egg and 2/3 a cup of buttermilk. Add to the dry ingredients and combine, but do not overmix. Overmixing causes the dough to be tough, resulting in a funny texture. Once the mixture is just combined, place the dough on a surface and knead, lightly, until the dough is smooth (or as smooth as it can possibly be, what with all the raisins and caraway seeds that are in there.) Place the dough in your greased pan and press down so it fills the pan entirely. With a knife, cut a "bold cross" in the top of the loaf -- this helps the bread expand and prevents cracking -- and brush the entire top with milk. Bake for 35 to 40 minutes, until the loaf has risen and is lightly browned.
This bread is an excellent accompaniment to stew or soup and is a delightful morning treat. It has to be eaten fairly quickly -- within two or three days -- due to the small air pockets in the loaf (formed by the reaction of the baking powder with the buttermilk, which has lactic acid in it) but you can stretch its life by toasting slices for breakfast.

Potato and Green Olive Stew

2007-03-12T20:16:00.000-06:00

I'm back from the dead! Well, back, at least -- I feel quite close to not-alive, as a matter of fact. Although the weekend was wonderful and super relaxing (as well as warm! I think Spring is finally here!) I had one of those nights where my eyes just wouldn't stay shut. So Spring Break begins in exhaustion, for me. It's really a pity that they don't give us a little time off at the library, although I suppose I can't really complain: I get to come in almost two hours later than usual.
This past weekend spring was in the air, as I mentioned, and we couldn't think of a better way to welcome it into our home than opening all the windows, scrubbing everything down, and preparing a fresh springy stew. D chose this one, and I must admit that I was wary at first. Olives and lemons with potatoes? Sounded weird to me. I was imagining a very briny, bitter tasting mush. Boy, was I wrong. I mean seriously, seriously wrong: this stew was far from bitter or briny. It didn't have an acidic taste at all; in fact, it was extremely mild, with just a hint of spiciness. And the potatoes were fabulous -- they made up most of the stew, really. It wasn't much of a stew, since there is less than one cup of water in the whole dish; instead, it was more like a vegetarian goulash. I can't wait to try some of it cold -- I feel like the flavors will really stand out more solidly after it has chilled, and I'm sure that the remaining liquid will turn into a wonderful starchy mush, coating the potatoes and olives splendidly.

Potato and Green Olive Stew
This stew only takes about 40 minutes on the stove, from start to finish, which makes it a really easy dinner to whip up. Unfortunately, you have to marinate the olives for a few hours before beginning -- outside of the fridge -- so that adds a big chunk of time to the preparation of this stew. I suppose you could set them on the counter right when you get home from work if you're planning on a late dinner; alternatively, they would be fine if you left them to sauce around in the fridge for a day in the lemon juice. The marinating part is extremely simple: mix 1/2 a pound (8 oz.) of cracked green olives with 1 tablespoon of fresh lemon juice and allow to rest on the counter, stirring occasionally, for at least three hours. Cracked green olives shouldn't be too hard to find: they're usually at the olive bar and are fresher than those that come in a jar or a can. They're unpitted and scored along the sides (cracked) in order to allow the marinade to seep into them more readily. You should not use pitted olives for this recipe: the pit helps the olive hold its shape when you add it to the stew. Without the pit, it would most likely break apart and become mushy, absorbing all the flavors without retaining its essential oliveness.
Now that the olives are marinating, you're free for a few hours. If you're anything like D and I, however, you'll stay in the kitchen to prepare the rest of your ingredients. Besides, peeling and cutting three pounds of red baby potatoes into 1/3-inch-thick slices takes a bit of time. We soaked them in cold water to prevent them from turning brown or mushy, and drained them when we were ready to add them to the stew. We also chopped two medium-sized yellow onions (to make two cups diced onions, total) and 3/4 a pound plum tomatoes -- diced as finely as possible after removing the seeds and liquid. The tomatoes, by the way, are an essential part of this dish. Until we added the tomatoes, I remained skeptical about this whole affair; after the tomatoes were added, the stew finally started to look like something I wanted to eat.
Once the olives have marinated for at least three hours, heat 1/3 a cup of olive oil in a large, heavy stew pot until it begins to shimmer and wave. Add the two cups diced onions at this point and sauté for five minutes, stirring occasionally. The onions should be translucent, not burned, when they are ready. To the onions, add 1-1/4 teaspoons sweet Hungarian paprika, 1 teaspoon fresh ground pepper, and 1/8 teaspoon cayenne pepper. Stir to coat, then add the drained potatoes, marinated olives, and lemon juice that the olives were marinating in to the pot. Stir again until the ingredients and spices are blended.
Add 1-1/2 cups of water and bring the mixture to a boil. The water level won't seem high enough, but don't worry: once you add the tomatoes, the dish will become appropriately saucy and stew-like. After the water boils, reduce the heat to a simmer and cover the pan. Cook until the potatoes are tender -- about 15 to 20 minutes, depending on the size of your potato slices -- stirring occasionally. After the potatoes are tender, add the 3/4 pound diced plum tomatoes and stir. Continue to simmer until the flavors have blended together, which doesn't take long: about ten minutes should do it. Season with a pinch of salt and serve with a lemon wedge and a small dish for the olive pits to rest in. D and I discussed the possibility of removing all the olives from the stew and pitting them before serving, which we would do for company, but it's far too much work (and we knew there would be leftovers, so the pits needed to be intact in order to preserve the olives) for just us two.
This is such a bright, invigorating surprise of a stew. I wasn't expecting it to taste so spring-like. It has the most wonderful underlying hint of lemon -- not overwhelming, by any means, but the taste is there -- and the olives and potatoes are such a unique combination of ingredients. We'll definitely be making this stew again.

Clarendon Hills Whipped Butter

2007-03-08T23:11:00.000-06:00

Butter. I love butter. I suppose that's a given -- most people are at least fond of butter, but I? I write poems about butter, I dream about butter, I find myself constantly thinking about it at inappropriate times and in strange places, like on the El.... I'm stretching. I'm not a butter fiend, by any means, and I don't think I've had a butter-based dream for quite some time, now, but in any case: butter and I go way back. We're pals. Oh, sometimes we get into the occasional squabble, and I swear never to speak to it again, but a few days later? I'm back with my knife and bread, ready to kiss and make up.
Of course, we're not talking about any old kind of butter here. No, if I'm going to smother something in butter, it's got to be goooood butter. Land-O-Lakes is fine and all, if you're having a butter emergency, but my preference? Clarendon Hills Whipped Butter. Call me needlessly fancy if you must, but I love this butter. It comes wrapped in a sheet of parchment paper in an irregularly shaped 8-ounce block, with no other indications of measurement. It's old-fashioned, really, because my whole life I've been accustomed to standard butter: four neat rectangles wrapped in parchment, stamped by the tablespoon, and snugly packed into a bright yellow box. Until Clarendon Hills, I'd never seen anything different. It is nothing like standard butter, and it tastes nothing like it, either.
This butter is made in Wisconsin, and labeled "Wis. Grade AA." Not being an expert on food codes, I did a little sleuthing and found, unsurprisingly, that in Wisconsin, Grade AA butter indicates a superior breed of butter. It possesses the highly pleasing butter flavor required, has only a slight (I taste none, but I'm not a butter expert, by any means) taste of feed and/or culture. For comparison, Grade B butter is described thusly: "It may possess any of the following flavors to a slight degree: malty, musty, neutralizer, scorched, utensil, weed and whey. It may possess any of the following flavors to a definite degree: acid, aged, bitter, coarse, flat, smothered, storage and old cream." Oooo, bitter-acid-storage butter! I love that stuff! I just can't get enough of that scorched old cream taste! Clearly, Grade AA is the "creme de la creme" of butters, at least by Wisconsin's standard.
They sell this stuff at Treasure Island, which is a great "European-style" grocery store in Chicago. There's one right in D's office building, so although it's a bit more expensive than Dominick's (which is just shy of out-of-the way on the walk home) he'll stop there sometimes after work to get us some food -- especially if we need butter. They have a small but thorough produce section and lots of different types of hard-to-find foods (we were able, by the way, to purchase some olivada -- black olive paste -- there, as I originally thought.) Unfortunately, they don't have a functioning website (it's been "under construction" for quite some time) but if you find that you're lacking something strange and generically European in your pantry, they most likely have it there. And they carry Clarendon Hills butter, which makes it worthy of a special trip. Just for the butter. And if you walk there, you might be able to work off the calories that you'd consume after baking some cookies with this rich, creamy, Grade AA butter. By the way: while it's wonderful for baking, it's good in any recipe that calls for butter or margarine. Try it on these thin chocolate chip cookies, then move on to baked dijon chicken (substitute it for the oil) and smashed potatoes. Speaking of potatoes: just throw a hunk of this stuff on top of a baked potato with a salad on the side and you have yourself the tastiest quick meal known to man. I'm serious.

Eggplant Pepper Pizza

2007-03-07T19:21:00.000-06:00

I'm pretty... freaked out today, but I can't tell why. This whole applying to grad school thing is starting to make my head spin. I've gotten into a whopping 12 programs -- for a master's in library and information science -- and am still waiting for the word on 2, but the financial situation isn't as bright as I hoped it would be: I've gotten a few nibbles, but nothing serious. For some reason, it started to get under my skin today, of all days, and I'm about to bite off the rest of my nails in anticipation. Since I received three -- three -- letters in my e-mail regarding financial aid yesterday alone, I'm waiting for more, and the wait is just... freaking. me. out.
In other news, the scallion cakes went over pretty well -- there were only two halves left over, which I packed up and brought home to D. Poor guy: I didn't even let him taste them when I made them (ok, maybe a tiny nibble, but that's just not enough) so I was happy that there were a few left for me to bring home for him. When I got home, I headed back into the kitchen. I'd promised D pizza last night, and you've got to start the dough early to give it time to rise. First, I had to stop at the grocery store for vegetables. Food shopping always takes me forever, especially if I don't have a list, and at a place like Dominick's, the produce is plentiful but mostly rotten, so it takes time to find something edible.
After a half hour of searching, I was able to locate a juicy looking eggplant -- on sale! -- and some green peppers -- also on sale! I sprung for one treat: an orange pepper, which was extremely expensive (especially in comparison to the green, which cost less than 50 cents) but it was worth it. I like a bit of color on my pizza, and since the eggplant was going to be hiding under the cheese, I had to get something else that looked nice for the top. No dice on the yellow or red peppers, though: too expensive and all had nearly gone bad at the store. This is why I dislike Dominick's: by the time you get most of their produce home, it's gone bad. Gross. I also picked up a purple onion. Again, I had to fight for it: those onions must have camped out there for a long time, because this was the only one that didn't look completely mangled.
By the time I got home, it was after four, so I had to start working straight away. Lucky for us I had some sauce in the fridge, left over from a sauce-making binge, so the hardest part of the pizza was taken care of. All I had to do was make the dough and roast the veggies, and the pizza was practically made.

Eggplant Pepper Pizza
Begin by making the dough. I used the same dough as I did in my Baby Bella Mushroom Pizza, which is a Giada De Laurentiis recipe, but I'll reprint the recipe here for ease. This dough is great, because it creates a sturdy, flat surface for the vegetables to rest on. I piled a whole eggplant, two cups of sauce, two cups of cheese, two peppers, and an onion (split between two rounds of dough) and it wasn't the least bit soggy or difficult to manage in slices. I'd like to experiment with other types of dough -- softer, with more rise -- but I needed something flatter and sturdier for that many vegetables.
Pour 3/4 a cup of warm (105º to 115º) water into a small bowl, then stir in 1 envelope of active dry yeast. Let the water mixture stand until the yeast powder has dissolved, which usually takes about five minutes.
Brush a large bowl lightly with olive oil -- not very much, a teaspoon or so should suffice -- and set aside. Mix together, in a new, non-oily bowl, 2 cups all purpose flour, 1 teaspoon sugar, and 3/4 teaspoon salt (or less, depending on how much sodium you're willing to digest.) I did about 1/2 a teaspoon, which turned out fine. You might be wondering: why all that sugar? Sugar helps the yeast grow by supplying energy to the yeast, which makes it grow at a faster rate. Hooray for science!
Giada says that you should make this dough in a food processor (including mixing the dry ingredients by pulsing them a few times) but I used my handy KitchenAid Mixer. I think that I talk about this thing too much, but so what: it is my best friend in the kitchen (besides D.) You really do need a machine to process this dough, though -- I don't think that you could get the proper results mixing by hand. It is worth a try, though, if you don't have any blending tools handy. I just would be concerned about the dough becoming too tough as you work to incorporate the liquid ingredients with the flour mixture.
By now, your yeast should be dissolved. With the mixer (or processor) on low, add 3 tablespoons olive oil and the water/yeast combo. Mix (or process) until the dough forms a sticky ball. Transfer said sticky ball to a lightly floured surface and knead until the dough is smooth, which should take only one or two minutes, tops. You can add more flour, one tablespoon at a time, if the dough is too sticky.
Transfer the dough to your oiled bowl, turning over once to coat it evenly in oil. Wrap the bowl -- not the dough itself -- with saran wrap and let sit for one hour, or until the dough has risen to be about double its original size. The bowl needs to be in a relatively warm, draft-free area; otherwise, it will take longer to rise and may not rise properly. When the dough has risen to twice its size, punch down to remove air bubbles.
As the dough rests and doubles, begin to prepare the vegetables. Slice one eggplant into extremely thin discs along the bias. Lightly brush both sides of every slice with a bit of olive oil and sprinkle with a tiny bit of salt. Put under a hot broiler for 6 minutes, flipping halfway through. Set aside. Since your oven is already kind of hot at this point, I'd suggest pre-heating it now for the pizza: 500º is the temperature you want for this pie.
Julienne half of a purple onion -- long, thin strips are better for pizza toppings -- and throw it into a hot pan with about 1 tablespoon of melted butter. The butter should not be foamy -- wait until the foam subsides before putting the onions in the pan, as this indicates that the butter is hot enough to cook the onions. Sprinkle a pinch of salt over the onions and stir to evenly coat, then place a lid on the pan. This allows the onions to sweat a bit and steam themselves. Stir occasionally to prevent stickage.
While the onion begins to cook, julienne two bell peppers, preferably bright-colored ones. Throw those into the pan as well and stir, then place the lid back on to allow them to steam as well. Stir occasionally until all the vegetables are soft and pliable.
By this time, the dough should be ready. Punch down and knead for a minute or two until it is smooth. Cut the dough in half, shape into balls, and roll out each ball into a thin sheet: this, obviously, will be the pizza crust. Brush each one with a bit of olive oil. This is the fun part: topping time.
Spread about half a jar (one cup or so) of red tomato sauce on each flattened round of dough. I used homemade sauce, but one great thing about pizza is that jarred sauce doesn't really take away from the flavor; in fact, sometimes the sauce in the jar is a better consistency for pizza than the homemade stuff. Sprinkle each pizza with about 1/2 cup shredded mozzarella cheese. Layer the eggplant slices on each pizza and sprinkle with another 1/2 cup shredded cheese. I also grated a bit of fontina cheese and put it on the pizzas at this stage for a more complex flabor. Next, I added half the pepper/onion mixture to each pizza. Assembly complete!
The easy part is the baking: slide each pizza in the oven for about 12 to 15 minutes (the oven, remember, is preheated to 500º) until the cheese is bubbly and the crust edges have browned. Remove from the oven and cut into wedges. I love how easy this stuff is to make, and how healthy it ends up being: you can't go wrong with a mountain of fresh vegetables, zero preservatives, and homemade crust, can you? By the way: obviously, these are pretty large pizzas, and we don't eat both in one sitting. It keeps very well if you just wrap it in foil and chuck it in the fridge, and is perfect cold for lunch -- or for dinner again the next day!

Scallion Cakes

2007-03-06T20:21:00.000-06:00

I know, I know -- Chinese New Year has come and gone, already, but my office is having a Chinese New Year celebration today. It involves a lot of homemade food, a large group of people crammed into a very small kitchen, and is the perfect opportunity for me to try something new in the kitchen. By the time I got around to thinking about what to make, the good stuff was taken: soba noodles, almond cookies, pot stickers... I wanted to bake something, preferably sweet, but it seems like everyone was leaning that direction. So in the spirit of culinary adventure, I decided to make scallion cakes. Scallion cakes are round bits of dough sprinkled with oil, salt, and scallions then rolled into a bun, flattened, and fried. Far from baking cookies, but perhaps a bit more adventurous -- and I'm always game for kitchen chaos.
I was nervous about the frying part, and about the whole venture entirely, so I whipped up a half-batch over the weekend as a test. They turned out ok, but they were too big -- very doughy in the center and burned on the outside -- and didn't have enough scallions or oil in them, in my opinion. So I made one and a half recipes worth for the office and made them much smaller and flatter, adding a hefty amount of scallions to each cake rather than the paltry 1 teaspoon called for in the recipe. I think it was a success, although I ran out of scallions at the end and was left with a bit of extra dough. At least it's only flour mixed with water and I wasn't throwing away much -- just one recipe's amount of dough would have been too small, so I suppose all I really needed was another scallion or two to make it right. I used a total of fifteen scallions, a whopping 5 tablespoons of sesame oil, and an additional (brace yourselves) cup of vegetable oil to fry them in. Obviously all of the frying oil isn't consumed, but it's still quite a monstrous amount of oil to put in a pan. Like I said, this was my first stint truly frying something, and I must say it was a pretty successful venture. I'm already planning my next fry: latkes.

Scallion Cakes
This is a recipe for about ten small scallion cakes -- they're better small, if you want my honest opinion -- but you could also make four or five large cakes, as the recipe recommends. If you roll the dough out very thin, though, I think they end up tasting better because of the way they are rolled and fried, so you're better off erring on the side of having more rather than having bulkier cakes.
Begin by combining 2 cups of all-purpose flour with 3/4 teaspoon of sugar. I believe that the sugar helps the dough brown more evenly as it fries, but I'm not sure -- most of the recipes I found don't actually contain sugar, but this dough was pretty stellar, so I didn't want to mess with it. I toyed with the idea of adding salt to the dough, but decided against it: the salt might make the scallions soggier, I reasoned. I'm not sure if this is logical, but there's enough salt in this recipe already, so it's worth skipping it in the dough.
Stir 2/3 a cup boiling water into the flour mixture and mix just until the flour absorbs all of the water. Gradually -- the key here is gradually -- stir in enough cold water (1/4 to 1/3 a cup) until the dough begins to pull away from the sides of the bowl and form a ball. The dough should not be sticky; if it is, you added too much water. This can be remedied by adding a bit more flour until the dough smooths out and is no longer sticky.
You want to keep all surfaces that the dough will come in contact with, including your hands, well-floured throughout this escapade. After the dough has begun to come together, remove it from the bowl and knead for a few minutes on a lightly floured surface until it becomes smooth and elastic. You can add more flour at this stage, if necessary. Cover the dough with a slightly damp cloth and let rest for an hour. Chop up your scallions at this point: about fifteen stalks total, less if you desire more doughy cakes. You want to slice them very thinly, along the bias. Use some of the white part of the scallion as well as the entirety of the green portion.After the hour has passed, re-dust your surface and your hands with more flour and knead the dough until it is smooth. Place the dough back under the damp towel and remove about 1/10 of the dough -- no more than about two tablespoons worth -- and shape into a smooth ball. Using a floured rolling pin, roll the ball into an extremely flat round. Lightly brush the round with a good amount of sesame oil, until the entire surface is evenly coated, and sprinkle with a pinch of salt. Cover the surface with minced scallions -- about 1 to 1-1/2 tablespoons total.
Tightly roll the rounds into a fat rope and coil the rope into a small bun. Make sure to pinch the end of the rope into the roll to seal it together. Cover with a damp cloth and allow it to rest for 15 to 20 minutes. Repeat these steps until all of your dough and scallions are gone -- the scallions may go first, which is what happened to me, but you can use less scallions per cake if necessary.
While you wait for the dough to rest, heat up about 2/3 to 1 cup of vegetable oil in a large skillet or a wok, if you have one. The oil should be wiggling but not smoking when it is hot enough to fry. After the dough has rested, re-dust the surface and your rolling pin with more flour and roll out one roll into a flat round. The scallions will begin to poke through, and this indicates that you should stop rolling: the less covered by dough the scallions are, the more likely they are to burn. They still taste great, but aesthetically they're not as pleasing. If you coiled the dough properly, the scallions should make a nifty spiral shape within the round. Don't flatten the dough too much: the pockets of air contained within the coil make for more air in the dough, which translates to a puffier fried cake. So watch it with that rolling pin -- easy does it.
Now it's time to fry the cake! Fry each round one at a time in the oil, carefully turning about two to four minutes in, when the bottom has turned golden brown. You might need to poke the center down to make sure that the round cooks evenly, but don't press too hard or the dough will flatten out and lose its nice puffy quality. Also, as you're frying, periodically take the cake out of the oil and dump any excess that has pooled on the top back into the pan. It gets chilly on top and the cake won't fry as evenly with a cold pool of oil on top of it. I used tongs to flip the dough, and since I don't own a splatter screen. Bad! Bad! I had one in my hand this weekend at the store and put it back on the shelf, thinking: "I don't want to invest three dollars in this frying business, I'm only going to use it once." Shame on me: I want to fry everything now. It's addictive, both the process and the actual food. When the cake has evenly browned on both sides, remove from the oil and shake a bit to get rid of any excess oil. Place on a bed of paper towels and sprinkle the top with a pinch of salt; then, place two paper towels on top and press lightly to remove even more of the frying oil. Allow it to cool between the towels as you fry the remainder of the cakes.
These are best served hot, but since they're for an office party, I brought them cold and cut them in half so that they were more bite-sized and plentiful. I personally love the taste of cold fried food, especially Chinese food, because it tastes like leftover takeout, but I'm not sure my office-mates will agree. I'm crossing my fingers, because I ate a quarter-slice this morning and it was terrific. If no one else agrees? I must be crazy. They're just as good hot as they are cold, if you ask me.
Wish me luck! I love to cook for other people, but I fear the aftermath: will they like it? Will everyone in the office now hate me because my scallion cakes weren't perfectly round, and also some of them are a bit burned around the edges? Hopefully not: this was my first time frying anything, and amidst the oil splatters, narrowly-thwarted burns, and slippery floor (oil gets everywhere when you fry) emerged some decent -- in my opinion -- scallion cakes.
(Delicious!)

Mitsuwa Marketplace

2007-03-05T20:51:00.000-06:00

Forgive me if this post makes no sense: the coffee machine spat out water speckled with grinds this morning instead of the usual normal coffee, so I'm flying without the assistance of caffeine. Unfortunately, we didn't do too much cooking over the weekend. We spent the majority of the day on Saturday in the suburbs, running various errands and having dinner with D's family. I was somehow able to convince D to take me to this wonderful Asian marketplace we'd heard about on Check, Please! which is one of the best local shows on PBS. Each week, the guests on the show visit three Chicago-area restaurants -- each guest picks one restaurant -- and they sit down to discuss the places and their experiences with host Alpana Singh. Alpana is fun to watch on television -- she's quite a personality -- and you know she knows her food, and her wine: she's the youngest person to ever pass the Master Sommelier exam, which is quite a feat.
A few weeks ago, Check, Please! featured Mitsuwa Marketplace, the largest Japanese grocery store in the Midwest. It's actually a chain, with most locations in California (and one, mysteriously, in Jersey) but it was far from a big-box experience. Although it is quite large, and the majority of the building is occupied by the grocery store, there is a sizable food court (which is what our visit was mostly for, aside from picking up some sesame oil and scallions) as well as a travel agency and a bookstore. Aside from the oil and onions, we had a third mission: a bentō box. D picked me up the cutest, greenest bentō in the store, complete with strange slogan: It Is So Wonderful To Be Able to Maintain Your Dreams is scrawled across the top of the box, as well as on the accompanying bag. I was kind of nonplussed by the selection of bentō boxes, but I was able to find the perfect one anyhow. In case you don't know, a bentō box is a Japanese-style take-out container or lunch-box, complete with small compartments for different types of food. It's all about pleasing presentation and compactness, which are two things that I am quite fond of.
The marketplace is overwhelming: since I don't speak Japanese, it was kind of a confusing venture, but we made out perfectly. We had a bit of luck: at the food court, everything is written in Japanese (with English titles that mean very little to me) but all the vendors have display cases with each meal inside, numbered and titled to make it easy to order. I wanted something noodle-based, and although many places had lots of soups that looked heavy on the noodles, I wasn't looking for liquid. I wanted a solid, stir-fried mass of wiggling noodles in sauce. Enter yakisoba!
Yakisoba is a fried-noodle dish made with cabbage, onions, bean sprouts, carrots, ginger, seaweed, and fish flakes. It's not too spicy, but it has a bit of a kick -- at least the version that we ate did. It's also quite healthy, aside from the sodium in the sauce, which is typically made from sosu, a Japanese worcestershire sauce. We split a gigantic plate between us for $3.40, which is a steal, especially since you get to stand there and watch it being prepared, which is extremely fun. They make it on a giant grill, and while we waited, three more people ordered yakisoba, which meant that they just kept adding more noodles and sauce and veggies to the pile. By the end, the entire grill was nearly covered in noodles.
It was fantastic, and we ate the entire plate in no time. I was full, but D wasn't. Good, because we hadn't tried the sushi, which was, according to D, downright fabulous. I personally don't eat raw fish, so I wasn't even able to try a bite of the tuna maki, but for $3.00 D got a large tray-full (twelve pieces total) which he says was delicious. The look on his face while he ate it confirms this fact: that's got to be some great sushi. They also sell sushi-quality fish in the grocery component of the marketplace, which is obviously very good. I considered buying a slab or two, but we weren't done with our errands, and it would have gone wrong by the time we were able to refrigerate it. I'm cool with that, though: just means we'll have to take another trip back!

Yakisoba (Adapted from Mitsuwa Marketplace recipe)
Peel and julienne one large carrot and one half an onion. Remove the core from one half cabbage and cut into long, bite-sized strips. Rinse a cup of bean sprouts and drain well.
Rinse a package of yakisoba noodles and place on a plate. Cover with saran wrap and microwave for one minute -- this keeps the noodles from sticking together when you stir-fry them.
Heat one tablespoon oil in a frying pan -- or, you can cook one slice of bacon, diced, in the pan, which is what they did at the marketplace -- and add the vegetables. Stir-fry the veggies until they begin to wilt. Add the bean sprouts last, however -- you want them to retain some crunchiness. Add the noodles and mix well. Once everything is incorporated, add the sauce. Most noodle packages come with a sauce packet; if not, you can use about 1/4 cup Japanese worcestershire sauce. Coat the noodles and vegetables with the sauce and heat through.
Serve with some grated ginger, seaweed flakes, and fish flakes on top.
Oishii! (Delicious!)

Scalloped Potatoes

2007-03-02T20:23:00.000-06:00

It was so foggy out on my walk home yesterday that I could barely see past the tip of my nose. It certainly made for interesting travel, although it was a bit dangerous -- I nearly got smashed by a bicyclist, a bus, and two cabs in my short walk from the bus stop to my apartment. I'd say that I have to be a bit more careful, but this was all on them: stop driving so quickly without paying attention to lights and traffic signals and people! Just because you're riding around in a metal box doesn't mean it's safe to speed.
Anyhow. The fog makes me sad -- it's so drippy and dreary and downright depressing that it's hard to do anything with that outside the window. It wasn't pretty fog, either -- just a mass of grey-white wetness. I am so ready for this weather to disappear, by the way. Where's the sun? Where's my promised early spring, Mr. Groundhog?! While I wait, I'll busy myself with some more winter food -- time is running out for those heavy, oven-intensive casserole type dishes. There's a bright side to every foggy day, and yesterday, that bright side was found in a hot dish of scalloped potatoes. We used to make these when I was growing up, and they're major comfort food. Just the smell makes me feel cozy, like I'm sitting in front of a fireplace with my favorite book, curled up like a cat. Is it time to go home and get under the covers, yet?
Although this is a slightly time-intensive recipe for what amounts to a side dish, it's well worth the effort. We ate the entire thing in one sitting -- but we made a half-recipe, so I suppose that's fair. It's really not all that bad for you, especially since I used skim milk and only two tablespoons of butter instead of the required four. It took me about an hour and a half, from start to finish -- that's with about 45 minutes in the oven, mind you, so it really only took 45 minutes of pure kitchen work and an additional 45 of agonized waiting.
This is a slight adaptation of Julia Child's recipe from Mastering the Art of French Cooking, Volume 1 (page 523) and the only change I made was adding a middle layer of caramelized onions. Since we only had half of a bag of potatoes -- remember those rainbow beauties I used for the potato soup? -- I was working with a smaller amount of food that I needed to succeed. So I added an onion to the dish to round it out and give it more heft, and by golly, it totally worked; in fact, I think the onion might have been the best part of the whole dish. She calls them Gratin Dauphinois [Scalloped Potatoes with Milk, Cheese, and a Pinch of Garlic]. The garlic, by the way? Totally can't taste it. It's kind of a pointless step, actually, and the only thing it did was make my hands smell like garlic for the rest of the night. But I actually like that.

Scalloped Potatoes with Caramelized Onion
Begin by preheating the oven to 425º.
Slice a medium sized white or yellow onion into long thin strips -- I do this by halving it, taking off the outer layer of tough skin, and slicing it into sections from the tip down towards the root with your knife parallel to the cutting board. Don't slice through the root, however -- it holds the onion together and makes it easier to chop. Besides, it's one of the juiciest parts of the onion and caramelizes wonderfully. After slicing it down the middle, bring your knife to the top, rounded part of the onion and slice into thin strips from the side to the middle and back to the other side. Halfway through the process, your knife will be at a 90º with the board and the onion. It's hard to explain; perhaps I'll take some photos next time.
Heat a heavy frying pan on the stove and add about a tablespoon of butter. When the foam begins to subside, add the onions to the pot. They should make a satisfying sizzle when they hit the pan; if not, the butter wasn't hot enough. This is a trick to master in the kitchen, the butter/foam/heat skill, because the foam is an indication of how hot the butter is. See this wonderful post from cookthink for more details and procedures regarding heating butter over the stove. Throw a pinch or two of salt on the onions -- it helps them sweat, releasing their juices and allowing them to steam -- and cover the pan. Lower the heat to medium-low and allow the onions to cook while you chop the potatoes, stirring occasionally to prevent burning. If they do begin to burn, simply turn the heat down and stir more often.
Child suggests that you peel the 2-1/2 pounds of potatoes, and if I were using russets or something with a tougher skin, I would go with that advice; however, I had those little rainbow babies that just look better skin-on -- and the blue potatoes made the top of my dish look extra-crispy, to the point of being burned, but they weren't burned at all: just blue! Slice them thinly: 1/8 of an inch, maximum, but thinner, if you can. After they are sliced, place them in a bowl filled with cold water and allow them to soak. When you are ready to use them, strain and dry with paper towels.
You need a heavy, shallow baking dish for this recipe, three inches deep, maximum, and about eight inches in diameter. Grab a clove of garlic and cut in half. Rub the garlic on the inside of the pan. Next, coat the inside of the pan with about 1 teaspoon of butter. Remove the potatoes from the water and dry with a towel. Layer half the potatoes on the bottom of the baking dish and top with a shake of salt, a nice dose of fresh ground pepper, and 1/4 cup of grated swiss cheese. I actually used fontina, a cows-milk cheese from Italy, which has a smoky, rich, and creamy flavor. Dot with about a tablespoon of butter, divided. Top this with the caramelized onions, which should be done enough at this point -- they'll be light brown in color (perhaps with a few dark spots where they burned, which is fine) and soft.
Layer the rest of the potatoes over the onions and season as you did with the first layer, with salt and pepper. Top with the remainder of the grated cheese and another tablespoon of butter, dotted across the top. Set the entire dish aside. Measure out about 1/2 to 3/4 a cup of milk -- I used skim, which turned out excellently, but obviously whole would be tastier -- and pour into a saucepan. Heat the milk, whisking all the while, until it boils, then pour it over the potatoes.
Pop the potatoes into the oven for about 35 to 45 minutes, testing after you reach the 35 minute marker. The potatoes will be perfectly soft all the way through with no resistance or firmness when they hit your fork. When they're soft throughout, the dish is ready to serve. D added a dash of red pepper flakes for flavor as he ate them, but they're just as delicious with no extras -- I know, because that's how I ate mine.
I can see why Child's cookbook is slightly daunting after completing this recipe. Although it's fairly simple fare when all is said and done the task of slicing those potatoes as thinly as possible -- with a substandard knife -- was difficult, but well worth the effort. I suppose that's why she begins her book thusly:

This is a book for the serventless American cook who can be unconcerned on occasion with budgets, waistlines, time-schedules, children's meals, the parent-chauffeur-den-mother syndrome, or anything else which might interfere with the enjoyment of producing something wonderful to eat. (Child, Julia, Louisette Bertholle, and Simone Beck. Mastering the Art of French Cooking, Volume 1. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, Inc., 1961, 523.)

I may be serventless, but I certainly am concerned with both my budget and my waistline, as well as my time-schedule. Whatever that may be. Still, though, this was a fairly inexpensive dish, and it tasted so fabulous that I feel no guilt over my plans to make it as soon as I get more potatoes in my house -- which may be tomorrow.

Roasted Asparagus

2007-03-01T19:40:00.000-06:00

Lots of people don't like vegetables. These must be sad, lonely people -- vegetables are one of the greatest foods out there. I have a theory about why people aren't all for veggies: they're not the easiest things to cook. Overdone, most vegetables turn rubbery; underdone, they've got too much of a crunch and, well, a raw flavor. Asparagus is a great example. It's not the type of food that you can simply stick a fork in and proclaim "dinner's ready!" You have to taste a few stalks to really properly see if asparagus is ready for consumption, and this gets in the way of making sure everything is done at the same time.
I'd been pretty unsuccessful myself cooking asparagus. I usually threw it on a baking sheet or in my Pyrex pan for about twenty minutes in a medium-low oven and was left with soggy, rubbery stalks. Fine to eat, sure, but nothing to write home about -- or to blog about, for that matter. But a light went on, somewhere in my brain, and I realized: high heat! Shorter cooking time! Victory! Asparagus is fairly small, and roasting it for a long period of time is bound to dry it out and cause the fibers to disintegrate. You can do other sorts of things to asparagus, as with any vegetable: a common technique is to steam them or boil them. Some people go the extra mile and tie them into a bunch, place them upright in a small amount of boiling water, and allow the tougher stems to boil as the tips, which are generally more tender, steam. You can even purchase an asparagus pot for this very purpose.
I find that roasting asparagus gives it a heartier flavor and is easier, on the whole, to do than to steam or boil it. I don't like boiling vegetables in general -- it's difficult, especially with something like asparagus, to drain properly and I hate having a puddle on my plate. If I'm going to mash them (as I do with cauliflower or rutabaga) it's a different story, but I don't generally mash asparagus -- too stringy and fibrous. Although I suppose a food processor would help... I'll bet you could make a great asparagus dip with that handy tool. Anyhow. Roasting asparagus is easy, because all it involves is a bit of olive oil, a pan, and a hot oven. Oh, and a bit of salt. I like to use Lawry's Seasoned Salt on vegetables like this, and a small amount goes a very long way. Good, because it's (obviously) high in sodium. The health benefits of asparagus, though, outweigh that small amount of naughtiness: a whole cup of asparagus has only 34 calories and 3 delicious grams of protein, not to mention that they're an excellent source of vitamin A (20% of your DV),Vitamin C (13%), and Iron (16%). Vegetables really are good for you -- and they taste great, too.

Roasted Asparagus
Begin by preheating your oven to 400º.
Carefully wash the asparagus and take care to dry them thoroughly. You don't want any extra water on these when they're cooking, because we're going to coat them in oil. You can find asparagus in pre-measured chunks at the grocery store: one bunch should suffice for two hungry people.
Snap the rough ends off of the bottom of the stalk. You can usually find the right place to break it -- it will often snap itself -- by applying pressure to the bottom of the stalk with one hand and holding it with your other hand. Discard the ends and lay the stalks out in a large Pyrex pan or on a baking sheet with a lip.
Drizzle one thin line of olive oil over the stalks. Now, you get to get your hands dirty -- one of the best things about cooking. Rub the stalks around, in the oil, so they are evenly coated. You don't want them dripping with oil but you don't want any dry spots, either. Shake a small amount of Lawry's Seasoned Salt -- or sea salt, table salt, pepper -- over the stalks.
Arrange them back into a line without overlapping . Pop them in the middle of the oven for about 9 minutes, then remove from the oven. Shake the pan around to make sure the asparagus isn't sticking to the bottom -- if it is, add another small bit of oil and coat the stalks with it by pushing them around with a spatula. Rearrange so that they are not overlapping.
Put the asparagus back in the oven for another 5 to 6 minutes, until the tips are just beginning to turn brown and crunchy. The resulting asparagus will have tender skin and a satisfying resistance in the stalks when you bite down. You shouldn't have to test it -- this recipe is fairly foolproof. If your stalks are quite thin in diameter, reduce the cooking time to compensate; if they're fairly thick, add a few minutes after you shake them around.
You can eat the stalks with your hands -- right from the hot pan, if you so desire. Did you know that asparagus is one of the few vegetables that's acceptable to eat with your fingers in high society? I like to eat mine just like french fries, much like I eat green beans. If you want to be all classy, serve them with some fish and a fork. By the way: right now, I'm totally loving Trader Joe's frozen fish burgers. We got some salmon burgers a few weeks ago and they are just spectacular. I'm not a big fish-cooker -- it's difficult to get it right -- but these frozen burgers are literally idiot-proof. And they cook up fast. Plus, they're quite healthy -- it's recommended that people eat at least two servings of fish per week, and with these patties, you can easily exceed that amount. Asparagus is great with any type of meat, including fish, and is also an excellent addition to any vegetarian (or non-vegetarian) stir-fry. Or do what the Michigan Asparagus Advisory Board suggests and make them into a hearty soup. Any way you cook it -- as long as you don't overcook it -- asparagus tastes delicious.

Blonde Oatmeal Raisin Cookies

2007-02-28T20:46:00.000-06:00

I've been fantasizing about these this squeeky-looking tart from Orangette -- can't you just feel your teeth biting down on that beauty? The texture just looks amazing -- dry, spongy, with some resistance in the mouth... and without consulting my brain, I ran home to make it after work yesterday. Unfortunate news: there's a severe chocolate drought in my apartment. Sure, we have a package of frozen thin mints, and the requisite container of Ghirardelli's hot chocolate mix, but that's about it. Certainly no chocolate bars, dutch cocoa powder, or chocolate wafers -- all key ingredients in this delicious tart. So I had to revise. Dramatically.
I couldn't have picked a more drastically different dessert to bake: oatmeal raisin cookies. It's a standard recipe -- you can find it on the underside of any container-top for Quaker Quick Oats. They call it a "vanishing" cookie, and I see why: they're perfectly bite-sized rounds, have a roughly pleasing texture, and can be eaten straight from the oven. Next-day, they're still soft in the center and not a bit crumbly. In fact, I just ate one right now, in two quick bites. They've got a slightly smoky flavor, which comes from the cinnamon and large amount of brown sugar. I could eat these for every meal, especially breakfast. They're perfect with a cup of coffee or hot tea. And they take no time: in less than a half hour after my flash of cookie-baking genius, I was eating them. The tart, while easy, would have taken much more effort. I will bake it, though, as I can't stop thinking about the texture that I'm sure it must have. It seems to be the perfect chocolate tart.

Blonde Oatmeal Raisin Cookies
Let me begin by explaining the "blonde" part. I'm a big raisin fan: I like juicy and plumply dark rounds from California especially, but there's a soft spot in my heart for golden raisins. They're tangier and more complex than an ordinary dark raisin, and I try to keep some around. They're excellent in couscous, divine in salads, and can be used in sweeter dishes as well -- like oatmeal cookies. In addition, they match the oatmeal well, creating a cookie that looks much plainer than it tastes. It's such a surprise to bite down on a cookie and be greeted by this delicious fruit.
Begin by preheating the oven to 350º. In a large bowl, beat together 1/2 a cup of softened butter, 1/2 a cup of brown sugar (I used light brown sugar, which is more delicate-tasting than dark) and 1/4 cup of white sugar. I always use extra-fine sugar for baking. Since sugar is technically a liquid ingredient, I want to help it melt as best I can by using smaller grains.
When the sugars and butter are combined into a creamy, slightly crumbly mixture, add one egg and 1/2 a teaspoon of vanilla. I know that I should be using real vanilla beans when I bake, but I can't bring myself to pay for the darn things. I'm sure the cost is worth it, but... like Deb over at Smitten Kitchen says, I'm afraid to turn over to the dark side of vanilla. Once I use the real thing, I'm sure I'll never be able to turn back. Besides, I just bought a new container of extract last week! Shame on me.
After beating the mixture to a fine batter, add 3/4 a cup all-purpose flour (I sifted mine, but that's optional. I think it makes the cookie airier) with 1/2 teaspoon of baking soda and 1/2 a teaspoon of cinnamon. The recipe also says to add 1/4 teaspoon salt, but I skipped it. It would probably add more depth and flavor, but I just didn't feel like adding it. After mixing well, stir in 1-1/2 cups of oats (not instant! quick or old-fashioned oats are what you need here) and 1/2 a cup of golden raisins. Stir until combined.
The batter at this point is fairly rough and pliable, thanks to the oats. This makes it easy to drop onto the cookie sheet in standard-looking rounds. I do this with a tablespoon, but I've seen people do it with a small ice-cream scoop. With the tablespoon full of batter in one hand, I wedge a second spoon along the edge of the batter to drop the round onto an ungreased cookie sheet. They can be fairly close together, as they don't tend to spread very much.
Bake for 11 minutes until just slightly golden on top. I mentioned this the last time I spoke about cookies, but I'll say it again: your cookies will not look done when they're ready to come out of the oven. They continue to cook after being removed, so take them out right when they start to brown on top. Be sure that they're all one solid piece, though -- the bottom shouldn't stick to the cookie sheet. If it does, they need more time.
Cool for about 2 minutes while they're still on the cookie sheet, then remove and place on a wire rack to finish cooling. After those two minutes, though, they're ready to eat. They might be hot, but the centers will be deliciously gooey. Try it: hot cookies never hurt anyone. You could also make bar cookies out of this by spreading the batter in an ungreased 13x9 baking pan and baking for 30 to 35 minutes. The recipe makes about 24 cookies, but they're small.

Mulligatawny Soup

2007-02-27T20:56:00.000-06:00

Edited to add: All you Chicago-dwellers! It's election day. The ballot is very short, and it's important to vote whenever they give us the chance to do so. So take the time and vote. You have until seven pm. to get in line tonight, so hurry!

Baby, it's cold outside. The brief spurt of warmth has been taken over by fog and hail: check out this intense picture from last Saturday. It's not grainy because of effects: that's hail, and the light inside of a fluffy cloud. Living where I do, I spend a lot of time in the clouds -- literally. Goes well with my nature, I suppose. It can get exhausting, always seeing white and nothing else when you look out the window. When it's clear, though, it's a different story. It looks pretty nifty, doesn't it? Better to look at than to walk through. Fog and general dreariness such as this always calls for soup, of any kind, and while I ate my easy to make and we already have all these ingredients matzo ball soup on Saturday I was secretly dreaming of mulligatawny.
I have a wonderful, dog-eared little book that was originally a gift from me to my mother, The Soup Book: Over 800 Recipes by Louis P. DeGouy, that I used exclusively throughout my young adulthood in the kitchen. My mom and I would try to make a new soup every week, and some of my favorite soup standbys are from this book: Manhattan clam chowder, mulligatawny, leek and potato... the list is nearly endless. They even have recipes for calf's brain soup and other oddities. It was published in 1974, before people were worried about eating cow brain, but most of the recipes are still good. Now, the book is in my hands -- my mom isn't much of a soup-maker, and when she does make soup, she's more into the "refrigerator soup" type of deal -- throw whatever you've got in there and let it boil. I'm all for that (in fact, I saw a great episode of Fast Food My Way this past weekend where Jacques Pepin did just that -- but he grated all the vegetables and served the soup over cheese, yum) but sometimes? A real, bona fide soup with a recipe is what I need.
I do this thing with soup, as with sauce, where i make as much as my dutch oven can hold -- sometimes it spills over the sides and causes the flame to go out. Then, I freeze the bulk of it. A few minutes in the microwave on a busy day and I've got hot, fresh soup, ready to go. A hunk of bread and dinner's been made with zero effort and no time. The reason I'm saying this is... I don't have any pictures of this soup. We ate the last of it nearly a month ago, before I owned a digital camera. But the next time I make it -- most likely soon, since now it's in my mind -- I'll update this with some shots. It's a pretty standard-looking soup though: vegetables swimming around in broth. The first time I made this in Chicago it was just after St. Patrick's day, when we boiled corned beef and were left with some amazing beef stock. After throwing it in the fridge, which helps the fat coagulate at the top to be skimmed off, we used it as the base for this soup. God, it tasted fantastic -- a cultural faux pas, most likely, but yummy all the same. It's a chicken-based soup, so if you have the wherewithal and necessary tools to make real chicken stock, go for it.

Mulligatawny Soup
The literal translation of mulligatawny is "pepper water," and although this dish contains little pepper, it's still full of fragrant spices and interesting vegetables. I'm fairly certain that this recipe is totally atypical and far from traditional -- I've had it in Indian restaurants and the experience was wildly different -- but it tastes great all the same. It's a pretty intensive recipe, calling for lots of chopping and stirring and roux-making, but it's well worth the effort. Make a big lot of it, freeze the remainder, and you'll be happy the next time a cold snap strikes.
Cut up 2.5 pounds of chicken "as for a fricassee," as the book says. I don't do this, because I'm not about to haul an entire chicken home. Instead, I use a combination of thighs and breasts and slice them into long, thin strips. Melt 1 tablespoon butter in a deep skillet or a dutch oven and add 1/4 pound of diced salt pork. I don't do this part either: it's hard to get salt pork around these parts. The butcher pretends he doesn't know what it is, and the closest I can seem to get to it is bacon, which doesn't work for this dish in my opinion. So I use a bit of olive oil, which doesn't taste nearly as good as salt pork fat, but it does the trick in a pinch.
Add the chicken to the oil and fry, lightly, over a low flame until it begins to color. Turn the pieces very often -- almost constantly -- to ensure an even coloring. After the chicken begins to color, sprinkle 1 tablespoon of flour mixed with 1 heaping tablespoon of curry powder into the pan. Continue cooking and turning until the meat is firm but not quite done.
I like to use my dutch oven for the whole process rather than doing what the book instructs, so I simply skim out most of the fat -- if there even is much -- and then add 10 cups of stock. Chicken, vegetable, or veal stock will all work here; like I mentioned, I used beef stock and the results were fabulous. Add 1 cup diced carrots, 1 small diced onion, 2 whole cloves, 6 bruised peppercorns, salt and pepper to taste, and a dash of cayenne pepper. The recipe also calls for a bay leaf, but I never use bay leaf in anything I cook. Maybe it makes me less fancy, but I am not about to fish around for that darn leaf right before I serve the soup. That's the point when I'm the hungriest and have no patience left!
Now comes my favorite point in the recipe. DeGouy uses wonderful language when writing about soups, although it's a tad bit confusing and stilted at times. Case in point: "[b]ring to a rapid boil, reduce the heat and let simmer very gently as slowly as possible for one long hour." I don't know if it's all those modifiers or what but that is a crazy sentence. Try diagramming that one, Sister Bernadette! (God that book rocks my world.)
After the long, slow hour, which passes like years if you're hungry, taste for seasoning and correct if necessary. I often find it imperative to add more curry and cayenne, and I usually do so closer to the beginning to give it a chance to soak in. At this point, add the following garnishings: 3 tablespoons cooked rice, 1 eggplant, diced and sautéed in butter slightly after being parboiled, and 1 cup leek sautéed in butter. I often sauté the leek and eggplant in the same pan at once. To parboil the eggplant, simply throw the chopped pieces into a pot of boiling salted water for about 3 minutes. Cook the soup for 10 minutes longer or until the garnishings are all cooked. DeGouy suggests serving it "piping hot with a side dish of plain rice," but I often settle for just the piping hot part. No side dish is necessary, really: this soup is full of flavor, teeming with vegetables, and can stand up on its own.

Saturday Night Apple Cake

2007-02-26T20:21:00.000-06:00

I have this darling little cookbook (I've mentioned it before) that we picked up at a local book fair last summer, and it's been... well, collecting dust ever since I traded over a dollar for it. Why? It's weird. It's the Congressional Club Cookbook from 1970 -- the eighth edition -- and while it's an entertaining jaunt into the past, it's full of jello molds, tuna casseroles, and ingredients like Oleo (from what I can gather, a particular brand of margarine.) It's a great treasure trove of the odd stuff our elected officials used to eat, supposedly, and includes some nifty tidbits: charts outlining the chain of command and where to seat specific members of the house, senate, and their wives (senate wives outrank house members) and what to do when the President invites you to dine at the White House. Never decline the invitation, even if you had other plans: just write the people you're brushing off a letter explaining that you've been invited to dine with the President, and naturally, that is more important than anything else you may have committed to.
It's a neat cookbook, but like I said -- hard to find something I'd actually want to eat in its pages. So when we decided, once and for all, to just use the darn thing this past Saturday, I was thrilled to find a recipe for Saturday Night Apple Cake. Perfect! We had a busy and full day -- complete with a ridiculously delicious lunch and a milkshake at the Eleven City Di ner (I hadn't had a milkshake in years, people, and it was fabulous: supposedly one of the best shakes in Chicago, and I agree) and I was in no mood for a heavy dinner. So we settled on this apple cake -- which I imagined would turn out much like a zucchini or banana bread, but it is much sticker -- and some matzo ball soup. And the best part? The apple cake was perfect for Sunday morning breakfast. Can I just brag, for a second, about how wonderful yesterday was? The sleet mushed about outside, and we were so cozy with our two newspapers and our apple cake and an Oscar-nominated movie that there was no need to go out. By the way: Last King of Scotland? Great movie, but... I covered my eyes at the end, there. Also, I cried -- not tears of sadness, but tears of ohmygod no one would ever actually do that to another human, right? (wrong, by the way.) I recommend it -- although the plot was too predictable (I kept calling out what was going to happen, which is an annoying habit of mine) it was very well done and Forrest Whitaker totally deserved that Oscar. What an actor.
In any case, apple cake is good. And it's brought to us by Mrs. Mark O. Hatfield, the wife of the senator from Oregon (in 1970, obviously.) The women don't use their real names; in fact, they don't even sign their recipes with their name, only with the name of their husbands. Because no one knows (or cares) who they are. They just make the food, behind closed kitchen doors. And after the dinner was finished, the men took out their cigars and began yammering... and the women retreated, back to the kitchen, for a Virginia Slims cigarette and coffee. Their advertisement on the cookbook's paste-down says it all:
Saturday Night Apple Cake
Begin by creaming 3 tablespoons of shortening. Add 1 cup of sugar, gradually, until the mixture is crumbly and well-combined. As usual, I used my KitchenAid for this -- any time I'm making a batter, the KitchenAid gets to play. I'm not one for mixing by hand. When I was a child (and this, I assure you, is a true story) I was instructed to make the batter for a brownie mix. Simple, right? Add the egg, the water, and mix. By hand. I was young, so I interpreted this literally. There was batter everywhere -- a photograph exists as proof. I think that was probably my dog's happiest day alive. The moral of the story? Don't trust me alone in the kitchen.
Add one large egg and 1 teaspoon vanilla to the sugar mixture and beat well. Now, mix in 3 cups of diced firm apples. We used 3 red apples which was plenty, and D diced them into small ( about 1/4 inch) chunks. We wanted some substance to the apples, so we didn't grate them, and we went with red because those looked best at the grocery store. I know most people bake with Granny Smith apples, but... I wanted something sweeter. And the Granny Smiths looked kind of sorry anyhow.
Sift in 1 cup of flour, 1 teaspoon baking soda, 1/2 teaspoon salt, 1/2 teaspoon nutmeg and 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon. Another quirk of this cookbook, by the way, is that they use soda and baking soda interchangeably. So this recipe, in actuality, calls for "soda," which we (correctly) interpreted to mean "baking soda." Very strange, no? This cookbook is wild. Stir in 1/2 cup chopped walnuts or brazil nuts. The recipe calls for walnuts, plain and simple, but -- shock of all shocks -- we couldn't find them in the store. We opted for the brazil nuts instead, because they were cheap and unseasoned, and I was very happy with the results. A nice nutty flavor without being overwhelming. We used our little Cuisinart Cho pper, which could have turned them to butter if we weren't being careful, and the result was mostly powdery with some small chunks. I liked that -- I'm not that interested in chewy chunks in my bread.
Turn the batter into an ungreased 9-inch pan and bake for 45 to 50 minutes at 350º. By the way: I used a springform pan, and I'm really glad I did. The resulting cake is pretty spongy and sticky, and I can't imagine the mess it would leave in a standard ungreased pan. You might just want to smear a bit of butter in there, especially along the sides, if you're not using a springform. It can be served warm (yummmmm) or cold, and be sure to save a slice or two for breakfast the next morning. And possibly lunch. As a matter of fact, I didn't eat anything but apple cake until dinner yesterday. Glorious.

Potato and Onion Soup

2007-02-23T20:23:00.000-06:00

Yesterday was, by all accounts, a spectacular day. D got some very good news, but he had to stay late at work -- which gave me ample time to whip up some celebration food for both of us. Unfortunately, I was too damn lazy to go out to the store, so I was stuck with whatever we had in the house. It wasn't much, and we had just made a mixup meal, so I wasn't really interested in throwing a bunch of stuff together randomly and seeing how it turned out. I wanted to make something hearty, exciting, and comforting. What I really wanted to do was whip up some onion tarts like this beauty from Orangette... or these cute babies from Simply Recipes... but I didn't have the time, patience, or energy to spend on the dough, which is quite an effort and would be much better with a food processor. Which I do not own. Anyhow... no tarts, yesterday. But I did have a lot of onions, a bunch of gorgeous potatoes, and a giant container of milk that I didn't know what we were planning on doing with.
Then it hit me: potato onion soup. God. I used to eat this all the time, growing up. Sometimes with leeks, sometimes with celery and garlic... the memories of this comforting, simple meal came back in a flood. And I decided to make the soup, all over again, sans any real recipe. I knew that it would be slightly thin: the milk was skim, and I have a recollection of using whole milk and heavy cream, but I figured that the potato starch would help thicken up the soup. And a handful of flour would work some magic on the consistency. I was right: the soup was thin, but not alarmingly so. It didn't really diminish the flavor or quality of the soup -- it was still quite hearty and filling.
D loved it, as did I. We nearly ate the whole pot for dinner last night. True, I didn't make a gigantic amount of it, but it was more than enough for two people. And with all the milk and potatoes, it's a stick-to-your-ribs kind of soup, so a small amount does go a long way.

Potato and Onion Soup
Begin by slowly melting 2 tablespoons of butter in a large, heavy saucepan -- as usual, I used my dutch oven, as I always do when making soup. Dice 2 large onions and add to the melted butter. Stir to coat the onions in butter and, with the heat on low, cover the pot for about 10 to 15 minutes to allow the onions to steam. While the onions are cooking, chop about 2-1/2 pounds of baby potatoes. Any kind of potato will do, but I was fortunate enough to have a sack of rainbow colored baby beauties. I have no idea what they're actually called, but I got them at our new favorite grocery store. It's just a Jewel/Osco, but -- unlike most of the groceries in downtown Chicago -- it has an outdoor parking lot, spacious aisles (lord how I hate being pushed in the grocery store; you don't even know) and all sorts of fresh, bright, squeezable produce. Andreas Viestad, my favorite Norwegian chef (although a bit too bourgeois, in my opinion... but his cuteness makes up for that) had a glorious episode centered on potatoes, and he mentioned that if you ever see any small odd-shaped "nubbly" potatoes to snatch them up immediately. He was right: these potatoes rocked -- it was a healthy mixture of mostly yukon gold and small red potatoes, smattered with a few baby purple potatoes for good measure. God, am I ever glad I didn't use them all in the soup. I want to make potato salad with the rest of the lot. I chopped these potatoes into odd-sized bites: since this is a five-ingredient recipe mostly consisting of potatoes I really wanted them to look great. That part was really fun, because I got to get a little creative with my knife and make crazy slices. I kept the skins on, mostly for color, although they could be taken off if you're so inclined.
I made sure to stir the onions a few times while steaming them so they wouldn't burn, but that wasn't really a concern since the heat was so low. After rinsing the potatoes, I dried them quickly with a paper towel and threw them into the pot with the onions. Another pat of butter was added at this point -- if I'm using skim milk, I might as well use enough butter to make it rich. I also added some salt to the vegetables in order to make the onions sweat a little, as well as a hearty dose of freshly ground black pepper. Most people would use white pepper in a white soup, but I don't own any -- I don't like the flavor of it as much as I like the flavor of black pepper. At this point, I also added about 1 tablespoon of flour, which would act as a thickener for the soup when the milk was added. After steaming the potatoes in with the onions for about ten minutes or so, I added four cups of skim milk. Stirring frequently, I brought the soup to a slow boil and allowed it to simmer until the potatoes were soft and gorgeous. I left the top on the pot, for the most part, in order to help the soup cook faster -- at this point, I was starving, so I was willing to do anything in my power to make it finish fast. After about 30 to 45 minutes of the slow simmer, the soup was finished. It was so, so, so, good. And for five ingredients and about an hour, total, cooking time? It was well worth the minimal effort.

Rice Pilaf with Black Beans and Tomatoes

2007-02-22T20:00:00.000-06:00

Face it: some days, you just don't feel like cooking. Let me rephrase that. Some days I just don't feel much like cooking. If you're lucky, you have a pantry full of canned goods that you can throw together for a quick yet tasty dish in a pinch -- at our place, we call this type of dish a mixup, in case you were curious. Such was our luck last night: while I napped on the couch, D prepared this delicious meal in less than a half hour. The speed it took to prepare this dish almost annoyed me because it meant I couldn't keep loafing about: it was time to eat. But after tasting it? I was in heaven.
This made a lot of food -- enough for leftovers, which I'll probably want to eat cold. There's nothing that I like more than cold rice and beans. Is that strange? Most likely, but... try it out sometime. They're good. And even though we used only one fresh ingredient, it was quite healthy. A little bit salty for my taste, but that's due to the seasoning in the pilaf and the beans. But I'm not that into salt anymore. When I was growing up, though... I used to shake salt, straight from the giant pantry canister, onto my potato chips. I am totally serious about this. It makes me shudder to think about it now.

Rice Pilaf with Black Beans and Tomatoes
Begin by preparing 1 box of Near East Rice Pilaf. See how easy this is going to be? I recommend buying this stuff whenever it is on sale and keeping it around until you need a quick and healthy side dish. It can be a bit expensive, so just keep your eyes out for a sale. My grocery store has a buy one get one free deal every month or so. You can make the rice pilaf from scratch, which doesn't seem like too big of a pain, but we're talking about adding an extra half hour at least (depending on what type of rice you use) so if you're making this in a flash, just go with boxed.
Making rice pilaf isn't that difficult, actually. Here's an adaptation of a recipe from Simply Recipes, which is a wonderful blog (it won the "Best Food Blog Overall" award in the 2006 Food Blog Awards.) Measure out 2 cups of dry white rice, preferably long grain. Measure out the amount of liquid for two cups according to the package directions, but instead of using water, you'll use chicken broth or any other type of flavorful stock. This is a great rice secret: always cook your rice in some type of broth or stock. It will give the rice so much more flavor and depth than it would have were it made with plain water. If you're running low in the stock department, you can substitute about half of the liquid with water.
Begin heating the liquid in a saucepan and bring it to a boil. In the meantime, add about 1 tablespoon of olive oil to a heavy saucepan over medium high heat. When the pan is hot, add the rice and stir occasionally so that it browns evenly. After the rice begins to brown, add 1 small chopped onion (or green onion) and 2 minced stalks of celery. At this point, season the rice with a dash of cayenne pepper and some fresh-ground black pepper. Salt is probably unnecessary, since canned broth or stock is usually salted. Cook until the onions begin to soften.
Mix the browned rice in with the now-boiling liquid. Pouring the liquid into the rice pan is the traditional way to make pilaf, but either way will work: use whichever pan is big enough to fit the rice and the liquid comfortably. Bring to a simmer and then cover the pan. Cook according to the package directions on the rice (usually about 15 to 20 minutes, depending on the brand.) Do not remove the cover while the rice is cooking: this will cause some of the liquid to evaporate, which might make your rice stick to the bottom of the pan. After you cook for the recommended time, remove the rice and let sit for ten minutes with the cover still firmly in place.
While your rice cooks, dice one medium-sized onion and cook in 1/2 tablespoon of butter or olive oil in a heavy-bottomed sauce pan (we used our much-adored dutch oven) until it is soft. Add 1 28-oz can of crushed or ground tomatoes and 1 14-oz can of black beans in sauce. You want to make sure that the directions on the can don't instruct you to rinse the beans: pick a bean that comes in edible sauce. Stir everything together and correct the seasoning, if necessary. Allow to cook for about 20 minutes.
Once your pilaf is done, simply add it to the tomatoes and beans mixture. With the heat still on, stir everything together until it is well-mixed. Serve with some fresh cilantro on top, and some tortillas or tortilla chips on the side if you desire. If you want more protein in this meal, I suggest cooking some chicken and throwing it in the sauce as you wait for the rice to finish. This would be a perfect way to round out the meal.
PS: Anyone have some great dessert recipes that they'd like to share? (Sarah, I'm looking right at you: I want your carrot cake recipe!!) I realize that the only sweet food on this whole blog happens to be chocolate chip cookies, and if you know me at all, you know I have a sweet tooth. So someone offer me up something sweet to make!

Green Beans, Blanched and Provencale

2007-02-21T22:26:00.000-06:00

It might be surprising, but green beans aren't exactly the easiest vegetable to cook. It's not that preparing them is actually difficult: you just snap off the ends, throw them into boiling water, and that's about all there is to it. But it's not a forgiving vegetable, like the potato or even the cauliflower. It's a fine art to find that perfect consistency: soft, with a bit of snap. Overcooking them -- even by the slightest amount -- will leave you with mush. No one likes to eat mush, unless they are a dog. But even dogs deserve properly cooked green beans, if that's what they want to eat.
Green beans are commonly called string beans, but if you want to go all fancy-pants, say "Haricots Verts." This is (of course) how Julia Child refers to them in Mastering the Art of French Cooking, and since we're using her recipe, we might as well be fancy here. One of the great things about green beans is their nutritional value: they're high in vitamin K, vitamin C, and vitamin A, and shockingly low in calories. We're talking very, very low here: 43 calories per cup. You could eat two rolls of Smarties and get stuck with a higher calorie count than that. These beans are great for so many other reasons, too: consider the preferred storing method. Just throw them into a plastic bag and stick it in the fridge. They should last a whole week before starting to turn that way, which gives you ample time after purchasing to actually eat them. So many vegetables don't keep in the refrigerator for that long, and it's always a shame when Thursday rolls around and you're nixing the veggies entirely because you just don't have any good ones left.

Blanched Green Beans

Whatever recipe you choose for your beans, always give them a preliminary blanching in a very large kettle of rapidly boiling salted water. Depending on what you plan to do to them later, boil them either until tender or until almost tender, and drain immediately. This essential step in the French art of bean cookery always produces a fine, fresh, green bean of perfect texture and flavor. (Child, Julia, Louisette Bertholle, and Simone Beck. Mastering the Art of French Cooking, Volume 1. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, Inc., 1961, 443.)

Green beans require very little cooking, actually -- despite their hearty appearance, they're actually quite fragile little things. Their outer shell, though tough, is only a thin shield for the tender, airy inside portion. It has a large surface area for a vegetable, which gives ample opportunity for those tasty nutrients to escape from the bean as it is being cooked.
One way to watch out for this loss of nutrients is to pay close attention to the color of the beans: they should be vibrantly green when they are fully cooked. Overcook them and you'll end up with a greyish green blob: if you notice your beans beginning to turn grey, they're already overdone (although probably still edible at that point.)
You will start this recipe by bringing 6 quarts of water to a rapid boil. To help the water boil faster, and also help the green beans cook properly, add about 1 tablespoon of salt to the water when you put it on the stove. That may sound like a lot of salt, but it's not: the green beans won't really absorb most of it, but it will help preserve that essential green color.
As the water does its magic and works itself into a boil, prepare the beans. Snap off each end and pull slightly to remove any stringiness that may be attached to the end. This stringiness is less common now than it used to be: most farmers breed their beans to make them less stringy, so you may not have to worry about this. Still, though, you want to snap off the tip on each end before eating.
When the water is boiling, drop in the beans -- about a pound and a half of green beans total for this amount of water -- a handful at a time into the water. Bring the water back to a boil as quickly as possible (I do this by putting the lid back on the pot for a moment or two) and allow the green beans to cook for about eight minutes. After eight minutes have passed, start testing the beans: they should taste slightly nutty and a bit sweet. If they are still too raw, they'll have a kind of freshly-mowed grass flavor, so be on the lookout for that. In addition to the nutty sweetness, they should have a tender texture with just the slightest hint of crunch when they're fully cooked.
Drain immediately in a strainer or colander. Julia Child then suggests that you flip them into a hot, dry pan and toss until the water has evaporated, but I find this step unnecessary if I strain them properly. Maybe that's because I'm lazy, but I just don't find that the extra effort makes the beans any better. If you do decide to dry them in a pan, do not stir the beans -- this will break them -- but toss them gently. These beans will keep for a day or two in the fridge, and all you have to do to reheat them is boil a new pot of water, throw the beans in for just a moment until the water boils again, then drain. This simple reheating technique makes it worth it to prepare a whole pound or two at once, rather than trying to portion out just enough for the amount of mouths you have to feed.
We like to serve these with nothing more than a bit of red pepper flakes and a dash of salt, but there are many ways to jazz up these babies. One of the more exciting recipes in this book is for Green Beans Provencale, which is an involved recipe that will transform the beans into a whole salad. Peel 4 plum tomatoes and cut into wedges. Slice an onion in half, then cut into long, thin strips -- as thin as you can get them. Cover the bottom of a saucepan with water and bring to a simmer. Add the onions, along with a few dashes of dried basil and thyme. Throw in one clove of garlic -- with recipes like this, I merely skin the garlic and roast it in the pan along with everything else, then I remove it when the dish is ready to serve. This allows all the flavors of the garlic to seep into the dish with minimal effort. Bring the water back to a simmer, then cook the onions for about 2 minutes until they are soft but still retain their shape. Pour off most of the cooking juice and reserve.
Add the tomatoes to the pan with the onions and bring to a simmer again, cooking for only one or two minutes. Add some reserved juice if necessary to keep the dish from drying out. You should be left with about 1 to 2 tablespoons of the cooking liquids in the pan. Drain off any excess or add some reserved liquid to make this possible. Stir in about 2 to 3 tablespoons of olive oil and heat for only about 30 seconds, until the oil coats all the vegetables.
Remove the pan from the stove and allow the vegetables to rest until the green beans are ready. Stir in the beans and coat them evenly with the tomato and onion mixture. Allow the dish to rest for about ten minutes before serving -- the longer you allow it to rest, the saucier and tastier it will get. You may add grated cheese if you wish, but any other deviations will take away from the overall fresh, open-air flavor of this particular dish.

Pork Chops with Dijon and Thyme

2007-02-20T22:34:00.000-06:00

We don't eat pork often, but when we do, we like to fry up some pork chops in a skillet -- or on the grill, if it's nice enough out -- and serve them with some vegetables on the side. It's a simple meal that's a great alternative to our usual protein staples: chicken and red meat. D isn't a big pork eater -- I don't think he had it when he was growing up at all -- but we used to eat it occasionally. Probably because it was on sale.
That's actually the precise reason we got some pork chops last weekend at the grocery store: it was cheap and it looked fantastic. The chicken was looking a bit grey around the edges, the meat was unspeakably gross, and all we wanted was something to eat that didn't require thawing out for Monday night. So we went for the pork chops and were, as usual, pleasantly surprised. They were the perfect texture, with just enough fat around the edges to lend the whole chop a slightly buttery taste, and they were the perfect thickness: about a half an inch or so, which makes for an evenly-cooked yet juicy pork chop after it's done.
We served this with green beans on the side (recipe forthcoming) and, since there were three chops per package, ate one and a half each to round out the fact that we didn't serve them with rice or bread. That was kind of foolish: a starch would have perfectly rounded out this meal, making it whole. At least we did the beans, though: there's nothing I dislike more than a piece of meat sitting lonely on a plate.
We adapted, pretty radically, our recipe for Baked Dijon Chicken for these pork chops. Omitting the breadcrumbs, we opted to slather each side of the chops with a layer of mustard and fresh thyme. Instead of baking the pork chops, like we would with the chicken, we opted to sear them in a pan. We did this for two reasons: one, I've never baked pork, and I just didn't feel like researching it while starving; two, we were starving and didn't want to wait for the oven to preheat. With the green beans boiling away on one side of the stove, cooking the chops was easy. Everything was done at the same time this way, too, which is one of the best things that can happen in the kitchen. Hot food! All in one moment!

Pork Chops with Dijon and Thyme
We began by chopping some thyme -- about three tablespoons in all -- in our new Cuisinart Mini-Mate Chopper. D's father had this little gadget sitting in his basement, unused and still in the original box. We snatched it up like it was candy: I've been honking about my desire for a proper food processor for some time now, and this is the next-best miniature version. At least now I don't have to chop herbs by hand, which is a pain and stains the cutting board every time I do it. Still want a food processor... but my desire is waning and is being replaced with one for a Wusthof chef's knife.
Anyhow: mix the 3 tablespoons of chopped fresh thyme with about 2 tablespoons creamy Dijon mustard. Coat this mustard mixture on one side of each pork chop, using only half (the rest will be brushed on the other sides when the chops are already in the hot pan.) Top with some fresh ground black pepper and place, mustard side down, in a hot greased pan. To grease the pan, drizzle in about 2 teaspoons of olive oil as the pan heats up so that the oil is hot as well when you begin to cook the pork.
When the chops are in the pan, brush the remaining mustard mixture on the tops of each one. Doing it at this stage makes it easier and less of a mess, and you waste less sauce this way also.
Cook for about five minutes on each side, until the juices run clear from each piece. If possible, use a meat thermometer to ensure that the pork is cooked, especially since it comes in such variable widths. The center of the chop should reach 160º before it can be eaten. Make sure that you flip the chops about halfway through, though. A lot of the mustard will stick to the pan, but that's the nature of these kinds of things. It still imparts a lot of flavor to the pork, especially with the fresh thyme, and searing it in the pan gives the edges a nice crunchy texture that almost tastes like butter.
Tomorrow, I'll give you my recipe for green beans. They're so simple, so fresh tasting, and so easy to find that they're a staple on our dining table: we eat them about once a week or so. If you want a fresh, easy vegetable? Green beans are your best friend.

Roasted Salsa

2007-02-19T22:47:00.000-06:00

Inspired by a recent episode of America's Test Kitchen, D and I ventured into the land of hot peppers this past weekend. The objective? Roasted salsa. We had seen an episode where they made some delicious looking huevos rancheros, but we didn't want to spend four hours in the kitchen making refried beans and salsa from scratch. Besides, I'm not really interested in eggs on my tortillas: just give me the rancheros without the huevos and I'm a happy camper.
We had been eying the hot peppers in our local grocery store for quite some time, but the most adventurous pepper we'd tried was the green jalapeño: not too spicy, not too exotic, and not a real culinary adventure. So we got a few jalapeños to start with for this salsa, along with a bunch of serrano peppers and two large yellow Hungarian wax peppers. I must admit that we didn't really know what we were doing: we just grabbed some peppers, steering clear of the ones we knew were super hot, like the habenero peppers, which looked amazing but also kind of scary. I like hot food, but... we wanted to go easy this time around.
We bought some fresh roma tomatoes and a new bag of small yellow onions. A brand new head of garlic, too, and we were ready to make some salsa. I kept thinking of the Seinfeld episode "The Pitch" with the salsa talk: "Don't you know the difference between seltzer and salsa?? You have the seltzer after the salsa! Salsa is now the number one condiment in America!" -- or it was, at least, in 1992. I would think that it would be ketchup, but D asserts that salsa, indeed, is most likely number one in the condiment race.

Roasted Salsa
Preheat the oven to 350º and begin preparing the vegetables. Slice all the peppers in half, lengthwise, and remove the seeds and ribs. You probably want to wear gloves for this part: hot peppers can burn your skin, especially if you're overly sensitive or you get the juices under your nails. Another word of warning: even if you have gloves on, do not touch your face. The last thing you need is serrano juice in your eye. We used four jalapeño peppers, four serrano peppers, and two Hungarian wax peppers (also known as medium sized hot banana peppers.) For extra heat, I would recommend keeping some of the jalapeño seeds in: it's the mildest of the bunch but the seeds will still give you a good kick. It's unnecessary to leave them in, though, unless you're into that kind of thing.
Core six roma (plum) tomatoes and slice lengthwise in half. You can keep the seeds and juices in: we're going to blend this salsa in the end, and the seeds incorporate easily. In fact, they provide some extra cooking liquid, so removing them would probably be a mistake.
Remove the outer layer of a medium-sized yellow onion and slice in half. Keep the core on the onion -- just use a paring knife to remove the outer layer of the core -- and slice into chunks, lengthwise. The core will keep the pieces from falling apart entirely. Remove the skin from two cloves of garlic.
Throw all the vegetables in a medium-sized bowl and add a few dashes of ground coriander, one dash of cayenne pepper, salt and ground black pepper, and about 1 tablespoon of vegetable oil. Stir to coat the vegetables evenly with the spices and oil. Arrange on a baking sheet -- with a lip around the edge -- or in a large Pyrex pan and put in the oven. Cook at 350º for about one hour, until the skins of the tomatoes begin to blacken and everything looks roasted and tasty.
After the vegetables are roasted, remove them from the oven. At this point, we discarded the serranos -- the hottest peppers in the salsa -- because we didn't think that we wanted the salsa to be too hot. We were right: even without the addition of the serrano, the salsa was extremely spicy and had a great kick to it. Since they all roasted together and got saucy in the pan, the juices from the serrano flavored the rest of the vegetables wonderfully and actually including them in the final salsa wasn't necessary.
We put the onions and peppers in the blender first and pulsed it with the juice from half a lime (about one tablespoon is in a half a lime, by the way) for just a second before adding the tomatoes and about 2 tablespoons of chopped cilantro. Onions and peppers are more fibrous than tomatoes and thus need a bit more blending to become smooth. We didn't it to turn into soup, so we just pulsed the salsa for a few seconds before it was ready to serve. This was a perfect combination of peppers for us -- just spicy enough, but not a real kick in the teeth to eat. It has a really fresh taste, too, especially with the cilantro added at the end. You don't want to roast the cilantro, by the way -- it will just diminish its flavor and the fresh taste.
We served this salsa with El Ranchero Tortilla Chips. Called the "best chips in the Midwest"-- by Gapers Block, no less -- and affectionately referred to as "the good chips," these are locally made deep-fried pockets of wonderful. They can withstand the heartiest dips and are perfectly crunchy without being too hard. And you can not beat the price: $1.99 for a 14-oz bag of these is nothing compared to the other brands available at the store, which are too expensive and riddled with artificial flavors and too much salt. Another thing: you can buy El Ranchero chips with no salt, which is a huge plus. I hate consuming too much sodium, so no salt chips are a big deal to me. I wish we had some more salsa at home... I'd advise making a double batch of this stuff. It went fast.

Wisconsin Style Bratwurst

2007-02-16T23:39:00.000-06:00

We made this awhile ago, on the highly acclaimed Superbowl Sunday, but I neglected to post about it until now. So sue me -- I was busy making other tasty meat dishes (and a few healthy things on the side.) I can't believe we ate bratwurst, chicken wings, guacamole, and bean dip all in one day, by the way. Ridiculous amounts of food. At least it rocked: that's all I'm watching football for anyhow!
This is actually not my recipe, and I didn't take any part in the actual cooking of the brat: it's all D on this one. He did a fantastic job and I even ate some of it. Being a beer-hater, it's pretty difficult to get me to go near anything even beer-related, but this brat was tasty and awesome. Even though it had touched beer. Been soaked in beer, as a matter of fact. I'll give you his two recipes: one for bratwurst that has been pre-cooked, and one for brats that are raw.

Wisconsin Style Bratwurst
Ok. First you get some tasty brats. Don't let anyone try to talk you into getting pre-cooked turkey brats (as I did for the Superbowl: I wanted to be as healthy as possible! Besides, they didn't even have regular ones anyhow!) You might need to just hop in the car and drive to Wisconsin for this, actually -- skip the cooking and get right down to the eating. If at all possible, hit the Brat Stop at the corner of Highway 50 and I-94 in Kenosha. We went there during a weekend getaway in Wisconsin and it was awesome, although there was a slight issue with the coffee: be careful when you pour. Otherwise, you'll end up with sticky feet and burned hands. But they do give you the full pot and sit it right on your table, which is something that I always appreciate.
If the bratwursts are pre-cooked or smoked, put them into a heavy-bottomed frying pan and add a little beer (something that you'd enjoy drinking, tasty beer.) It should be enough beer to cover the bottom of the pan easily. Place a lid on the pan and cook over a medium heat for about five to seven minutes, turning occasionally with tongs.
Remove the cover and add 1/2 a sliced onion, cut into skinny strips. Continue cooking, uncovered, until the liquid evaporates. Make sure you turn the bratwurst frequently with the tongs so it browns evenly. Remove the bratwurst from the pan and continue to cook the onions. Slather both sides of a roll -- for this, we used a loaf of French bread cut into pieces, then halved -- with some nice whole seed mustard and put the bratwurst in the bun. Top with the caramelized onions and serve, with a beer on the side of the same variety that you cooked the bratwurst in.
If the brats aren't pre-cooked, then you're in for a real treat. D says that you should cook these without any girls that don't like beer around, then make sure they taste the bratwurst after it's cooked so that they'll realize how great beer is. That isn't going to happen, but a boy can dream! Add the uncooked brats to a large pot and cover with sliced onions and a pat of butter. Add several beers to the pot until bratwurst and onions are completely covered and put over a medium-high heat. Simmer for 15 to 20 minutes. Transfer the bratwursts to a hot grill and cook until browned, then place in a roll slathered with whole grain mustard. Top with the cooked onions. This, D says, is the real way to cook a bratwurst.

Szchewan Restaurant, 60611 (Restaurant Review)

2007-02-15T23:07:00.000-06:00

Well, we're both sick now -- this time with some sort of head cold. We had to cancel our dinner plans for Valentine's day and stuck ourselves on the couch with some Chinese takeout last night in lieu of a fancy dinner at HB: A Hearty Boys Spot. HB is owned and operated by the winners of the first Next Food Network Star challenge, Dan Smith and Steve McDonagh, and it's a cozy little spot with brick walls, candles, and inexpensive delicious meals. We went there last year for Valentine's day and ordered the five-course couples meal and couldn't have been more surprised -- or more pleased -- with the results, which included a whole red snapper, oysters, and savory cupcakes. The cupcake flight was really amazing and I'm still thinking about it over a year later: honey lavender, orange blossom and chocolate chili, perfectly baked and topped with a mountain of frosting. Yumyumyummm.
Unfortunately, we just weren't feeling up to it yesterday, so we got some Chinese food from our favorite place in town, Szchewan Restaurant. They serve Szechuan, Mandarin and Hunan cuisines, and even offer some Shanghainese and Cantonese dishes as well. I can't even tell you how great this restaurant is, although they don't do delivery (you can have the food delivered through a service called DiningIn, but it takes over an hour to arrive and it's cold and expensive.) The crab rangoons are to die for, and the food isn't greasy or drippy or icky -- which is sometimes the case with Chinese restaurants, I'm afraid. I love the decor -- classy but not trendy, with white tablecloths and intimate seating -- and the waiters are always smiling and friendly, although we mostly do takeout.
They also allow you to request white meat only for the chicken dishes, which is huge: very high quality food. I'd recommend asking for only white meat, because it doesn't cost any extra and I just like white meat better. Last night we forgot, though, and our General Tso's chicken was mostly dark: fine when you're eating a saucy chicken, but not so good in a soup. Why do I like white meat better? It's got something to do with the texture, and the nutrition content: dark meat tends to be fattier than white. So in matters of white meat vs. dark meat, I'm in the white meat camp. But I understand the value of a dark meat, particularly when grilling or frying -- it holds up better and is less stringy. Another great thing about darker parts of the chicken? Higher iron content. So... it's a matter of my personal taste, really.
Anyhow, if you're going to eat at Szchewan Restaurant, I can't speak highly enough of the Fried Wontons (also known as Crab Rangoons) which are fried doughy purses filled with cream cheese and crab meat. You get eight of them for only $3.95, and eight are more than enough for two people to share. They're really rich and are probably the best crab rangoons I've ever had. And I love me some rangoons. We started off the meal yesterday with their Sizzling Rice Soup, made with large pieces of fresh snow peas, mushrooms, and chicken floating in chicken broth. It's something that I really like eating when I'm feeling sick because it's so fresh, hot, and light. I also really adore their Crispy Sesame Chicken, which is strips of chicken smothered in a gooey and deliciously sweet sesame sauce and topped with tiny, crunchy noodle like things. Last night, though, we went for the General Tso's chicken, a chef's special that is made with chunks of chicken (like you see in most Chinese food places here) topped in a spicy sauce with red peppers, ginger, and garlic. I'm about to cry just thinking about how tasty it is.
If you're in the Chicago area and need a great place to eat on the Magnificent Mile, don't pass up Szchewan Restaurant. And with Chinese New Year right around the corner, be sure to make a reservation if you're planning on going this coming weekend. Or you can stop by for their extensive lunch buffet on weekdays between the hours of 11:30 AM and 2:00 PM. They also serve Dim Sum on Saturday and Sunday from 11:30 to 3:00 pm. They recommend a reservation for their dim sum, which sounds like a real experience -- not good for a first date, though, they say on their page aptly titled More Information about Dim Sum. The menu is a bit pricey, but when you consider the amount of food they give you? It's just about right.

Szchewan Restaurant
645 N. Michigan Avenue (the entrance is actually on Ontario St.)
Chicago, IL 60611
(312) 642- 3900
http://www.szechwanchicago.com/

Mon- Sat 11:30am-10:00pm
Sun 11:30am- 9:30pm

Chocolate and Zucchini

2007-02-14T21:12:00.000-06:00

The title of this post is an homage to one of my favorite food blogs, Chocolate and Zucchini, which I read regularly for ideas. Her food and her blog are much more sophisticated than mine, and her writing is really an inspiration: it's fun, it's fresh, and it stretches the limits of how I think about cooking and food. If you like my blog? You'll like hers better.
Anyhow, today I'm offering a recipe for Zucchini Spice Bread, along with some photographs of the delicious artisan chocolate from D, an early Valentine's gift. It has to be refrigerated, and he knew that it would be impossible to hide, so it was gifted last night instead of today. I was more than happy to receive it a day early, because it is so. fantastic. A chocolate experience beyond any other.
The chocolates he purchased me are from Vosges Haut Chocolat, a chocolate boutique that specializes in luxury chocolates married with exotic ingredients in an "East meets West" theme: "The infusions of rare spices and flowers combined with premium chocolate give a delicate balance of flavor, leaving you with a layered and lingering sensation of spice and chocolate." Kind of pretentious sounding, but the idea is great and the chocolate is magnificent, so it evens out in the end. It comes in a beautiful purple box -- the dark truffles didn't have a bow on them, but D asked nicely and they were happy to oblige. I tried the Balsamico truffle last night, made with balsamic vinegar with a topping of hazlenuts, and it was a delicious combination. I'm slightly jealous of D, who went with a bolder flavor: Black Pearl, made with ginger and wasabi with a topping of black sesame seeds. I'll have to get myself one of those sometime -- it seems so good! I'm a little disappointed that three of the truffles are flavored with anise, which is not something I usually enjoy, but there's a good chance that those will be good anyhow, even with that licorice flavor.
Besides the chocolates, which perked me up immensely, yesterday was not such a good day -- it snowed over a foot here, and most people didn't come in to the office. I got stuck outside for over a half an hour because the door was jammed shut, and I had to open up the library in under ten minutes. Not fun. Today it was the same story. It's a real pain being the only person here in the mornings, especially given the creep factor: the library is big, cold, dark, and completely still, although the occasional professor will sneak in after-hours, giving me a great scare as I'm running around humming to myself. Add that to a variety of other lame things -- including the foot of snow and my feet getting wet on the walk home -- and I was not a happy camper. So I decided to bake some zucchini bread. Baking always makes me happier: the careful measuring out of ingredients, the feeling of the raw dough in my hands, the scent of the bread blooming in the oven... it's so soothing. Plus, we had a zucchini that had been hanging around for quite some time in the fridge, and while it wasn't even near extinction -- it was nice and firm, rather than old and mushy -- it was time for it to become food. So zucchini bread it was.
I got this recipe from my good old standby friend, The Bon Appétit Cookbook. God, I love this cookbook -- although it was a gift, it's extremely inexpensive for the amount of recipes you get, and it comes with a free year-long subscription to the magazine. If I were in the market for a new cookbook? I'd buy this one. I also really enjoy the orange and white motif: very classy. Another thing I like about it is that its index is well-planned. So many cookbooks have shoddy indexes, which really works against them, because what kind of person wants to wade through a jumbled mess of words just to find an appropriate recipe? Not so with this cookbook: within minutes after deciding that the weird foods in our pantry couldn't be combined into one satisfactory dish, I was able to whip up this bread. Thank you, beautifully organized index! You have saved me once again!
Now, a word of warning: I halved this recipe, because it required two zucchini and I only had one. It came out perfectly; in fact, the standard recipe seems like it would be too big for the pan size it requires. I guess it would fit, but it would definitely take too long to bake: the recipe requires an hour and a half; with the halved recipe, I baked it in an hour. I think that an hour and a half is too long to wait for zucchini bread! Especially since I wanted to serve it at dinner.

Zucchini Spice Bread
Begin by buttering and flouring a standard loaf pan, and preheating the oven to 350º. Whisk together 1-1/4 cups all purpose flour, 1/2 teaspoon salt, 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon powder, 1/2 teaspoon baking soda, and 1/8 a teaspoon of baking powder. I must confess -- I eyeballed that last one. I'm in the market for some odd-measured measuring spoons, but I haven't gotten around to buying them yet.
In a mixing bowl, beat 2 smallish eggs (I always buy large eggs, but I picked out the two tiniest. Can you tell that the recipe calls for three eggs?) with an electric mixer until they're foamy. I used my KitchenAid for this, using the wire whisk attachment, and it only took about 2 minutes for the eggs to reach the desired consistency. Gradually add 1 cup sugar, beating until the mixture becomes thick and pale -- with a hand electric mixer, this should take about four minutes; in the KitchenAid, it took only two. Slowly beat in 1/2 a cup of vegetable oil, then add 1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract.
On a low speed, beat in the flour mixture in three additions. You don't want to add the flour too quickly -- this prevents it from incorporating properly and you'd end up with lumpy batter. Once the batter is smooth, fold in 1 cup grated zucchini. I used a cheese grater to grate my zucchini, which proved difficult. Next time I'll just use a peeler and a knife like a normal person. You can also fold in 1/2 a cup of chopped toasted walnuts, but I didn't do that: not only did I not have any walnuts anyhow, I'm not too fond of them in my zucchini bread.
Pop the bread in the oven for about 1 hour, until a toothpick comes out clean. The top should look dry and crusty. Let it cool in the pan for about five minutes, then remove and allow to finish cooling on a rack. Or just dig in to the warm bread -- it stays together pretty remarkably, even when it's hot.
For dessert? Did I mention the snowstorm that we were hit with? Somehow, a lot of snow piled up on our balcony, and D was able to get some fresh snow for an authentic snow cone topped with maple syrup. He's been wanting to do this for years, and there was finally enough snow -- clean, pure, just-fallen snow -- that he was able to feed me two whole cups. And there's plenty more where that came from. I'm both happy and upset about the amount of snow we got: not enough to cancel work, but enough to make me a proper snow cone. Deeeeeelish.

Meatcake

2007-02-13T22:13:00.000-06:00

After traveling, there's nothing I want to come home to more than a prepared hot meal. Or semi-prepared, as was the case this last weekend, when D. made us a meatcake in celebration of my return -- I had a short visit home to see my parents this weekend. What is a meatcake? How dare you ask! Our lovely friend Sarah tipped us off to the existence of meatcake through this link, which opened up a whole new world of meatloaves for both D and I. I never thought of making a meatloaf in cake form, but it's so great: D loves meat, I love cake -- how could it possibly go wrong?
It couldn't, and it didn't. This was one of the coolest dinners I've had in a long time. The best part? When I got home, the mashed potatoes were done, as were the round meat loaves. I got to frost the cake while we cooked the crescent rolls. I love to frost, so that was a real treat.
We usually use a different recipe for meatloaf (turkey meatloaf with sundried tomatoes and roasted pinenuts is our standard fare) but I guess D decided this was a good recipe to experiment on. He threw just about everything in this loaf, and when he told me the ingredient list, I was shocked. I can't believe how much stuff he fit into that one meatcake! You could use any meatloaf recipe you like to make the cake, but I'll supply this one here, because it really is great. I think the addition of jalapeño pepper really adds a kick to the cake. We adapted Martha Stewart's Birthday Meatloaf Cake recipe to our liking and topped the cake with crescent rolls instead of cut out carrots and peas. Which would have been hella cute, but -- I don't own a "plain round tip" or pastry bags or anything like that, adding to the difficulty of creating a cute cake. But ours turned out pretty rad in the end, I must say.

Meatcake with Mashed Potato Frosting
Preheat the oven to 350º and finely dice 2 medium onions and two cloves of garlic. Cook in 1/2 tablespoon butter until soft, with a healthy handful of red pepper flakes for spice. All the vegetables in this recipe should be diced very small in order to provide a pleasant texture to the meatloaf, by the way -- we don't want no chunky loaf in our house! Add 1 diced jalapeño pepper (seeds and ribs removed, if you're wimpy like me) and 1 stalk diced celery to the pan and cook until everything is soft. In the last three or four minutes, throw in 1 handful diced mushrooms -- too many and the meatcake will get soggy, so be careful. No one likes soggy meatcake.
Set the vegetables aside to cool and mix about 2.5 or 3 pounds of raw hamburger meat with 1 cup of breadcrumbs. You can use ground turkey if you wish, but this is a meatcake, after all, so we went with pure meat. Also add 1 raw grated carrot to the meat -- grate with a zester, microplane, if possible -- you don't want long strips of carrot in your loaf. Add some fresh diced thyme -- about 2 tablespoons or so -- and mix in the cooled vegetables.
In a separate bowl, combine 2 eggs, 2 tablespoons of tasty whole seed mustard, 2 tablespoons Worcestershire sauce, and 1 tablespoon of sundried tomato paste. Regular tomato paste would also work here, but we happened to have some sundried just hanging around, so... why not? Add these liquid ingredients to the meat and combine. You want to mix the meat by hand -- we're saving the KitchenAid for the mashed potato frosting, which needs to be as smooth as possible. Besides, this much meat won't fit in my KitchenAid anyhow. Got that? Mix by hand. Literally. Squish around in that raw meaty goodness -- it's not as bad for you as it seems. But what do I know? I always make D do that part!
After the meat mixture is throughly combined, press it very gently into two very-very-well greased cake pans (9 inch is fine.) Bake for about 20 to 25 minutes in your preheated to 350º oven or until the meat is 160º in the center -- you can use a meat thermometer for this. While the meatloaf bakes, prepare your potatoes.
Wash, peel, and cut five large russet potatoes. Rinse them to remove any lingering starch, then put in a pot and cover with cold water. Turn the stove to high and cover. Cook for about 25 to 30 minutes, until a paring knife slides into the potatoes easily. Drain the potatoes and mash with a wire whisk, a potato ricer or masher, or a KitchenAid mixer. Add milk and butter as you mash them until the potatoes are very smooth -- about 1/2 a cup of milk and 1 tablespoon of butter total, although the amount varies depending on the potatoes. You want to add the milk gradually as you mash, in order to get the right consistency. You can, if you desire, heat up the milk a bit before using it to keep the potatoes hot; alternatively, you can mash them right in the hot pot to keep them hot. Once you reach a smooth consistency with no lumps, you don't need any extra milk. If you make them with a little too much milk, simply turn the heat on medium-low and whisk until they firm up.
After your meat reaches 160º in the center, take it out of the oven and let stand in the pans for five minutes. Remove the loafs from the pans and place on a wire rack with a cookie sheet underneath it to catch any drippings. You can tent some foil over the rack to keep the meat hot at this point. Place one loaf on a cake stand (or on a platter, if you're a normal person who doesn't happen to have a cake stand lying around) and frost only the top with a generous layer of mashed potatoes. Top with some ketchup, being careful to leave a large margin around the edges so that the ketchup does not bleed through and make your cake look funny and pink instead of smooth and white. Top with the second loaf and frost the entire cake using a spatula.
You can decorate your cake a variety of ways. Martha Stewart suggests peas and sliced dots of carrot, the blackwidowbakery uses a ketchup glaze to paint a t-bone onto the cake, and we used crescent rolls -- some of which were mini (made from cutting the dough into smaller triangles.) Want cute mashed-potato roses? Fill a ziploc or sandwich bag with mashed potatoes, pressing out any air bubbles, and snip off one of the bottom corners. Squeeze the mashed potatoes onto the cake through the hole. If you know what you're doing, you can make some pretty fancy whirly things on your cake.
You just made a meatcake!! Congratulations!
You better have some company over for this one -- or some room in your fridge. Maybe even in your freezer. It makes a lot of cake.

Five Cheese Pizza with Baby Bella Mushrooms

2007-02-12T20:10:00.000-06:00

A standard pizza consists of three lengthy steps: the dough, the sauce, and the toppings. If you have to make all of those things in one shot, boy are you in for some work. Fortunately for us, I keep some homemade sauce frozen at all times, so I was already 1/3 of the way finished with my pizza before I even left work last Thursday. Of course, if I weren't a sauce snob, I would have just used some canned red sauce, but... I'm picky when it comes to my sauce. So sue me: it tastes a lot better, it's cheaper, and it's not full of sugar and other insane things that I would never dare put in an authentic pasta sauce. This sauce from the freezer had roasted orange and yellow bell peppers in it, as well as a hefty dose of red pepper flakes, so the result was a nice, angry mixture of peppers and tomatoes. You can use any kind of tomato sauce, though, for this standard pizza -- the heart of this recipe is actually the crispy yet tender dough, which was a cinch to make, especially given that it was my first foray into baking with yeast. I know, I know... but I had a fear of ruining anything that had to rise. Until I made this dough.
I got the recipe from the most recent Bon Appétit Magazine -- I believe it's the March issue, but it could be April's -- which has a nice little feature on our friend, Giada De Laurentiis. Apparently she used to make pizza with her grandfather and has graciously passed on his recipe for a quick and easy pizza dough. It only takes an hour and fifteen minutes to make, which includes an hour for the dough to rise, and it's quite fun to get your hands dirty making authentic pizza dough, I must say. She likens it to Play-Do, but I kind of think it has the consistency of Gak. Remember Gak? In other words, this dough is a bit sticky, but it firms up well in the oven and has a wonderful consistency when baked. Not that I ever put gak in the oven....

Pizza Dough
Pour 3/4 a cup of warm (105º to 115º) water into a small bowl, then stir in 1 envelope of active dry yeast. You can find this type of yeast in the baking aisle of any major supermarket, and probably most minor supermarkets as well -- it's the most common type of yeast on the market, I think. Let the water mixture stand until the yeast powder has dissolved, which usually takes about five minutes.
Brush a large bowl lightly with olive oil -- not very much, a teaspoon or so should suffice -- and set aside. Mix together (in a new, non-oily bowl -- I almost messed this part up twice) 2 cups all purpose flour, 1 teaspoon sugar, and 3/4 teaspoon salt (or less, depending on how much sodium you're willing to digest.) I did about 1/2 a teaspoon, which turned out fine. You might be wondering: why all that sugar? Sugar helps the yeast grow by supplying energy to the yeast, which makes it grow at a faster rate. Hooray for science!
Giada says that you should make this dough in a food processor (including mixing the dry ingredients by pulsing them a few times) but I used my handy KitchenAid Mixer. I think that I talk about this thing too much, but so what: it is my best friend in the kitchen (besides D.) You really do need a machine to process this dough, though -- I don't think that you could get the proper results mixing by hand. It is worth a try, though, if you don't have any blending tools handy. I just would be concerned about the dough becoming too tough as you work to incorporate the liquid ingredients with the flour mixture.
By now, your yeast should be dissolved. With the mixer (or processor) on low, add 3 tablespoons olive oil and the water/yeast combo. Mix (or process) until the dough forms a sticky ball. Transfer said sticky ball to a lightly floured surface -- this is the time where I wish I owned a silpat, because I used floured parchment paper, which didn't work as well as I wanted it to -- and knead until the dough is smooth, which should take only one or two minutes, tops. You can add more flour, one tablespoon at a time, if the dough is too sticky. I did not have to do this, but it varies from batch to batch.
Transfer the dough to your oiled bowl, turning over once to coat it evenly in oil. Wrap the bowl -- not the dough itself -- with saran wrap and let sit for one hour, or until the dough has risen to be about double its original size. The bowl needs to be in a relatively warm, draft-free area; otherwise, it will take longer to rise and may not rise properly. When the dough has risen to twice its size, punch down to remove air bubbles. You just made real pizza dough! Now to assemble the actual pizza...

Five Cheese Pizza with Baby Bella Mushrooms
Begin by preheating the oven to 475º and covering two baking sheets with foil or parchment paper. Never put waxed paper in the oven, by the way: it never turns out well. Take the dough from the above recipe and split in half. Roll one half into a ball, then place on a lightly floured surface. Roll out -- start in the center and move towards the edges, flipping every so often to keep the dough even -- until it is about 8x13 inches. The dough will be quite thin. Transfer the rolled out dough to one of the baking sheets and repeat for the other half.
Spread 1/2 a cup of marinara sauce over each pizza, leaving a border of about 1/2 an inch, and sprinkle with a mixture of cheeses. The recipe says to use 1 cup of grated fontina, 1/2 cup of grated parmesan, and 1/3 cup grated mozzarella per pizza, but I'm lazy so I bought a pre-packaged mixture of five "Italian style" cheeses: asiago, parmesan, mozzarella, provolone, and romano. I used about half of the package on each pizza.
Next, it was topping time. As I mentioned above, the sauce I used was pretty spicy, since it had nice chunks of roasted peppers in it. So that was kind of like using peppers as part of the topping. We went for a mushroom-only pizza in this case, but I'd like to try other things: olives, sausage, spinach, basil... the possibilities are endless. Y U M. We got a package of pre-cut baby bella mushrooms and used those as the topping. I put some on the pizza about halfway through putting the cheese on it, so that some mushrooms were coated in melted cheese after it was baked. I also put some red pepper flakes on the top of the pizza, along with some regular ground pepper, for added spiciness and flavor.
We baked both pizzas in one oven for 15 minutes, until the bottoms were browned and we couldn't stand the fantastic smell any longer. It's a very short cooking time for such a tasty dinner, mainly because the oven is on such a high temperature. We didn't even rotate the pizzas halfway through cooking: for maximum crispiness, we wanted to leave them alone. The one on the top rack got slightly burnt in the back, but it still tasted awesome. I'm definitely making this again, but next time? I'm thinking of using an olive tapenade instead of a red sauce, then putting mozzarella and whole tomato slices on top. Delicious!

Sick

2007-02-09T20:20:00.000-06:00

I'm sick today, so no post.
I'll be back Monday.

Mashed Rutabaga with Shallots

2007-02-08T21:56:00.000-06:00

I'm deviating today, but not entirely. Last night was LOST night -- first Lost since it was 100º outside (only a slight exaggeration) and we deserved a break from cooking. Well, we took a break the night before for frozen pizza -- yikes -- but last night D. stopped at the fancy pants grocery store on his way home from work and got us some rolls (for our frozen onion soup, which tasted just as good as if we'd slaved for hours in the kitchen) and mashed rutabaga. I'd been hounding him to get the rutabaga ever since he bought it a few months ago: it is just so darn good. It's a great alternative to mashed potatoes, which can get dull if you eat them too often, and it's a fantastic orange. Not bright orange, but very mellow. And what a complex vegetable rutabaga is! This kind was made with shallots, which lent it even more depth.
So I hunted around and was able to locate a recipe that I believe is either quite similar or the same as the recipe they use at Fox & Obel's to make their mashed rutabaga. They do have quite a few recipes on their site, including one for mashed sweet potatoes that is intriguing -- it includes pineapple -- but unfortunately none for the rutabaga. Next time I have a craving, I'll try to get my hands on some fresh rutabaga (which has proven quite hard to find in the past: any tips on where to locate some in the Chicagoland area?) and make this recipe, which includes the major "tastes" that I found in the original, such as milk, shallots, and butter. Actually, aside from the rutabaga, those are the only ingredients in the dish. I found this particular recipe on BlickRecipes.com, which I've never used as a recipe source before, but it has a pretty wide selection of various recipes. Check out their rice section -- it's packed!
You can also make mashed turnips by substituting the rutabaga with turnip, or mashed potatoes, the same way. It's a pretty basic process, but the results are creamy and divine. I'll have to play with this recipe whenever I get an actual live rutabaga to work with!

Mashed Rutabaga with Shallots
Begin by slicing 5 peeled shallots into small thin rings. You may need to halve some of the rings in order to keep them nice and small. In a saucepan, heat about 1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil with 1 tablespoon butter. When the pan is hot (you should see small bubbles beginning to appear under the surface) add the shallots and cook until they are golden, about 30 minutes, stirring occasionally to prevent burning.
While your shallots are cooking, peel one or two rutabagas and cut into chunks, about 1 inch sized cubes. Put them in a saucepan and cover with lightly salted water. Boil the water and simmer the rutabaga until it is tender and can be easily pierced with a fork -- about 35 minutes total.
In (yet another) pan, heat about 4 tablespoons of butter and 1 cup of milk (now, here is where the rutabagas I ate last night may differ: I suspect they used cream to make them extremely rich, but I'm not positive. I would try them with milk first, because of the high fat content in cream.) Heat until the butter is just melted and the mixture begins simmering.
Drain your rutabaga and mash, using a food processor if you have one. I think I'll use my KitchenAid for this -- it really makes excellent mashed potatoes. Add the milk mixture in a steady stream as the processor is running until the rutabagas become extremely smooth.
Put the pureed rutabaga back into a saucepan (I would just use the milk pan, because I don't like too many extra dirty dishes around, but I suppose it would be nice to use a clean pan -- especially if you don't have to wash it!) and add the shallots. Stir while heating until it is hot enough to serve. Be sure to put some salt and pepper on the table so people can season if they desire.

I'll leave you with some tips on how to choose a good rutabaga, because if you're anything like me, you don't really even know what to look for when you do come upon them at the grocery store. The rutabaga should have a nice pear shape (like the ones above) and be purple at the tip. Choose smaller ones, if possible, because larger rutabagas tend to be tougher. Pick one with no or relatively few blemishes (as with all vegetables and fruits.) Watch out for rutabagas that seem too light, as they may be hollow and not yield enough to cook with.
Store them in a cool, dry, and dark place, such as your pantry, for up to ten days. They will dry out and become brittle when they are too old for consumption.
Want to learn more about the rutabaga? Check out the Worldwide Gourmet site, which has lots of nutritional and other information on all types of foods, as well as recipes and tips for entertaining.

Flat and Chewy Chocolate Chip Cookies

2007-02-07T21:41:00.000-06:00

I cut this article out of the New York Times Magazine in January of 2006 and it hung on my fridge for about two months before we decided to make the plunge and actually bake some chocolate chip cookies. The reason we didn't make them right away? The author, Amanda Hesser, listed three different recipes for three different types of chocolate chip cookies, and we couldn't decide which ones we liked best: thin and crisp, flat and chewy, or thick and gooey. They all sound really good, but I'm not really sure which type of cookie I actually prefer. Could I have one that is crisp on the edges but also gooey and thick in the center? Not with these recipes, I couldn't.
We picked the flat and chewy, I think because I like the word "chewy," and they turned out quite well. The salt content is very high for a cookie -- one whole tablespoon of kosher salt -- and I'm not the only one who thinks this. Michellepedia and The Wednesday Chef have also commented on the ridiculous amount of salt (links go directly to the cookie posts.) The Wednesday Chef wisely cut the amount of salt in half, and I think it was a smart move. The problem isn't really the amount of salt, it's the fact that it calls for kosher salt. Kosher salt has big, irregular grains that don't really work well in most baked goods, in my experience. The grains don't dissolve regularly, leaving pockets of salt within the cookies after they're baked. Yuck. We chose to use table salt and corrected the amount so that it was equal to the kosher variety: one tablespoon of kosher salt is roughly equivalent to 1/2 a tablespoon of table salt. Now that I think about it, I'm fairly certain that the problem is the kosher salt itself and its too-big grains.
This article (you will need access to Times Select to view) starts off with a disclaimer: there are many types of chocolate chip cookies, and to prefer one over the other is natural. But preference can cause debates, "the kind of tense debate usually reserved for topics like religion and politics," she claims. I don't know if it's that serious, but it is an important issue: what type of chocolate chip cookie do you prefer? If we don't see eye to eye, I might have to cut off all communication with you. The silent treatment is better than the bombing treatment, in my book. I'm not about to start a war over cookies, but somebody might, so watch out.
These cookies turned out well, but I wouldn't go so far as to say they were the best chocolate chip cookies I've ever eaten in my life. I have another recipe for those -- one I might be under oath not to divulge. That one is a secret recipe and involves toffee chips and chocolate chips. Anyhow, this one makes a very good cookie, but the recipe probably needs some tweaking to be perfect. I just don't want to make that many cookies, so I'll offer the original, non-tweaked version here.

Flat-And-Chewy Chocolate-Chip Cookies
A side note: all those hyphens? They kind of annoy me. Are they really necessary?
Preheat your oven to 325º and line a baking sheet with parchment paper. Sift together 2 cups all-purpose flour, 1-1/4 teaspoon baking soda, and 1/2 teaspoon table salt.
In a mixer "fitted with a paddle" (I get to use my KitchenAid!) cream together 1 cup of softened butter, 1-1/2 cups packed light brown sugar, and 1/4 cup white sugar until the mixture is light and fluffy. This should take about three minutes. Crack in two eggs -- one at a time -- and beat until combined. Add 1 tablespoon of vanilla extract.
Now you should add your sifted flour mixture. Just throw it in there, all at once! That's always fun. Let mix until it forms a dough. Fold in (this part I like to do by hand; otherwise, the mixer breaks up the chocolate too much) 2 cups chopped bittersweet chocolate. You can use chocolate chips if you want, but I prefer chopping it myself. I know I've said this before, but I'll say it again: I like chopping chocolate because you end up with irregular sized chunks, which makes for a more interesting cookie. I also might prefer this method because you get a lot of chocolate on your hands; it's tasty.
The recipe mentions something about folding in 2 cups chopped toasted walnuts in addition to the chocolate, but that makes them chocolate-nut cookies. I do not want chocolate nut cookies. I want chocolate chip cookies.
Chill the dough, and clean the kitchen while you chill. At least that's what I would do: maybe you're lucky and you have a robot that does that for you (or a super-nice friend. Sometimes D cleans as I work, lucky for me!) Or you can chill while you chill and forget about cleaning, whatever. I certainly don't get to decide.
When the dough is cold, roll balls from about 2 tablespoons of dough. Arrange on your baking sheet and flatten (I use the bottom of a glass to do this, but you can just use your palms if you're feeling crazy) so they are about 1/2 inch thick discs. They should be about 2 inches apart on the sheet after flattening. Make sure you chill the dough between batches so that it's easy to work with and it cooks properly!
Bake in the preheated oven (325º for all of you who skipped that step) until the edges are brown, about 12 to 14 minutes. There's a really important trick here and it applies to all cookies (and probably extends to the majority of baked goods.) Your cookies will not look done when it's time to take them out of the oven. The edges will be slightly browned, but the cookies themselves should appear slightly underdone. They continue to cook after you've removed them from the oven, and the last thing you want is a fresh cookie that has the texture of a stale cookie. So just watch them during the last few minutes of baking, and the moment you think that they need another minute or two? They're ready.
Allow them to cool for a few minutes on the baking sheet, then transfer to a wire rack to finish cooling. Or you can eat them hot, like I like to do. Hot and fresh chocolate chip cookies? How could you possibly resist?

Red Lentil Soup

2007-02-06T23:05:00.000-06:00

On a cold day like today, the only thing I want to do is sit on the heat vent in my apartment and eat hot soup. Unfortunately, I don't have that luxury and I have to tromp around in the snow, but if I had a choice? That's where I'd be. One of the major problems with most bean soups is that you need to soak the beans overnight, which means that you have to plan the meal ahead of time. Not so with lentils: they're so small and absorb liquid so readily that there is no need to soak them, making it an ideal bean to work with on short notice.
I buy my lentils at Whole Foods in bulk, which allows me to get the precise amount that I desire, rather than purchasing too many or too few. They also have a nice assortment, but I prefer red lentils for their vibrant color. We're jar-savers, and nothing is cuter than an old jar full o lentils. The one downfall of the lentil bean is that it is very small, and sometimes a stone or two makes its way into the lentils as they're sorted in the lentil factory. You do have to sort through the beans to make sure there aren't any stones in there, but that has never happened to me: perhaps it's just because pebbles were more prevalent in the '70s, which is the year that my cookbook was published.
I'm using a Joy of Cooking recipe (1973 edition) and this page has to be the most ratty one in the book because I've made this soup so many times. It's stained and kind of hard to read the ingredients, but that just means that it must be a really great recipe. You can make it with any type of lentil, but I prefer red; however, the color tends to melt away after it is cooked.

Red Lentil Soup
Wash 2 cups of dry lentils very well and drain. Be sure to be on the lookout for any small stones that may have gotten mixed in with the lentils. Boil 10 cups of water and add to the lentils. Add a hunk of salt pork, or ham if you can't find any salt pork. I haven't been able to find any since I moved to Chicago, but I never had a problem finding it back East. Is it an East Coast food, or am I just not looking in the right place? I even asked the butcher for some. He looked at me like I was insane. Ham works fine -- you're just looking for some nice flavor. You can even just leave the ham out and make it meat free and vegan friendly, if you wish.
Simmer for 3 hours. While the soup is simmering, sauté one large minced onion, 1 minced carrot, and 1 minced stalk of celery in 1 tablespoon of butter (or in some salt pork drippings, if you prefer -- yum!) Throw a bit of salt in with the mixture -- it helps these aromatic vegetables sweat off some of their liquid, allowing them to cook faster.
Recognize those ingredients? That's a mirepoix, another traditional building block -- as a matter of fact, the holy trinity -- of French cuisine. The last "building block" I talked about on this blog was the bechamel sauce, used in the Layered Macaroni and Cheese recipe. A mirepoix is traditionally a mixture of onion, carrot, and celery in the ratio of 2:1:1 in French cooking, but it can be adapted to fit your dish. For example, if you are making a light-colored soup, you'll want to use a parsnip instead of a carrot in order to preserve the coloring. It can also be adapted to cuisine type: a Spanish dish, for example, may use a mirepoix made from onion, garlic, and tomato.
Enough of my food rambles: where's the rest of the soup recipe? Basically finished, that's where. After your soup has simmered for 3 hours, add the mirepoix and stir. Allow the soup to cook for 20 minutes more or so. You can serve it chunky (which is how I like it) or you can puree the soup to make it smooth. In order to puree, though, you have to bind the soup; otherwise, the liquid will separate from the solids and it won't keep well at all.
To bind the soup, there are a number of methods. My favorite is to just make a roux: blending 3 tablespoons of butter with 3 tablespoons of flour over medium heat is very easy and will work well for the amount of soup you have here. It takes about 1 tablespoon of each ingredient per three cups of soup. Just blend in to the soup when it is all combined, then stir through and boil for 10 minutes or so to make sure it is properly bound.
If you're opposed to flour, you can grate a raw potato directly into the soup. You'll only need about 6 tablespoons of raw grated potato for this amount of lentil soup. Simmer for 15 minutes to thicken. I've never tried it with the potato binding, but it seems like it would work, since potatoes are starchy.
This is such a great soup, I can't get over it. I wish we weren't all out of lentils at home because I'd be making it tonight. Alas -- we'll probably "settle" for some onion soup. We made enough of that to freeze a container; this recipe will make enough for two frozen containers, most likely -- I believe the containers are 2.5 cups each. D likes to pour a bit of sherry in his; I prefer to eat mine plain. It is fabulous either way.

Ramen-Style Stir Fry

2007-02-05T20:30:00.000-06:00

We had a great time yesterday, although the Bears lost. What a start, though -- touchdown in the first 15 seconds of the game. Too bad it was all downhill from there. We ate the white bean dip, which actually was quite green -- I think we overdid it on the parsley -- but it was still scrumptious. And we got our blender to properly emulsify it, somehow, which was a great thrill! Maybe I don't need a food processor after all...! Just kidding. I really want one. In orange.
On Friday night we cooked up some stir-fry, and I'm going to give you our recipe here because it's a little atypical. It's his recipe, originally, and I admit that I was wary at first, but it turned out splendidly. I'll just give up the secret now -- we used Ramen noodles (chicken flavor) and the packet of spices that the noodles come with, with no additional sauce. It made a really light, refreshingly hot dish for a cold winter night, and I think we'll do it again in the near future.
You can really do anything you want when you're talking stir-fry, but it's pretty important (in my opinion) to use at least a few fresh veggies. You can throw a last chance vegetable or two in there, but it kind of messes with the texture. Try to keep mushy produce out of your stir-fry if you can. You do have the option, though, of purchasing some canned vegetables, especially if you're looking for ingredients that are harder to find fresh. We usually keep some water chestnuts and bamboo on hand for this exact purpose: it helps round out and bulk up the stir-fry, they're very tasty, and you can hold on to the cans indefinitely until you have a hankering for 'em. I'm going to jot down the recipe here, but the beauty of stir-fry? Is that you never have to make it the same way twice. You can just use whatever vegetables you have in your kitchen and it will almost always be delicious.

Ramen-Style Stir Fry
Begin by chopping up your vegetables in easy to manage pieces. If you're using the canned water chestnuts or bamboo that I mentioned above, try to keep the pieces about that size so that everything will be uniform. Same goes if you're not using pre-cut vegetables.
I'd like to mention here that before I began using vegetables routinely, I had no idea how to chop a pepper. Chalk me up as dumb, but it seems pretty complicated, especially if you've done it the wrong way first. I was always covered in seeds by the time the chopping was done, and sometimes they would even get into my food in large quantities. So I'd like to take this opportunity to thank him for teaching me how to cut a pepper:
Over a sink (and that, my friends, was the part that I wasn't doing correctly) slice around the stem and pull out the core (actually, I was doing this part wrong, too. Hahhahahha!) Cut in half, along a rib if you can, and slice the halves into sections using the ribs as a guide. You'll want the ribs to be on the edges of these slices, because that makes it super easy to remove them. Now, using a paring knife, slice out the rib and discard. Voila! Edible pepper slices!
So after you figure that whole thing out and you slice the rest of your veggies, heat a small bit of olive oil or butter in a large bottomed pan -- or a wok, which I do not own. We had a wok in college, but it got rusty somehow. After that it landed in the trashcan. When the oil is hot, throw in the vegetables and cook, stirring frequently. I like to turn the heat down about halfway through and put the lid on to steam them a bit, which makes them cook faster. Plus it keeps in some of those tasty, tasty nutrients all those doctors (and nutritionists!) are always talking about.
While the vegetables are cooking, boil two cups of water (lid on! It's such a small amount and you don't want it all to evaporate.) When the water is boiling, add about 3/4 of the spice packet to the water. The remaining spices should be put in with the vegetables to lightly coat them. If you're not down with the whole Ramen salt-packet thing (it's understandable -- 35% of your daily value of sodium for some noodles?) you can use any jarred sauce you want with your stir-fry, preferably a no or low sodium type. Wait until the noodles are cooked and mixed in with the vegetables before using any jarred sauce, though. If you're doing it with the Ramen-spice, wait until your vegetables are about finished then add the noodles to the spicy water.
Make sure the water coats the noodles, then turn off the heat. Put the lid back on and wait for two or three minutes, until the noodles are cooked.
Put a bit of the cooking liquid in with the vegetables and let it mostly evaporate. Do this a few times until you're satisfied with the liquid content, then add the drained noodles. Serve with the remaining broth on the side, in case anyone wants to turn their stir-fry into soup. If you're not using the Ramen flavor packet, now is the time to stir in the sauce so that it coats both the noodles and the veggies effectively.
This dish was surprisingly filling, given that we only used one pepper, one zucchini, and one can of water chestnuts to make it. But in our experience leftover stir-fry is not all that great. It's edible, certainly, but that doesn't mean that it will get eaten before it gets smelly and inedible.
And on that note, I'll leave you with a photograph of the delicious icy lake. It really is -30º out there today (with the windchill: is that cheating, putting the windchill in with the temperature like that? It is really windy out there, so... I think it is fair.) I hope you're warmer, wherever you are. I also hope that your office has better heat than mine does -- does an unheated room count as cruel working conditions, in this weather? Click the photo to see it in all its oversize glory. And special thanks, again, go to him for taking this photo in such cold weather. I couldn't even make myself go out yesterday under any circumstances.

Simple Banana Bread

2007-02-03T20:35:00.000-06:00

This one is a cinch to make and it tastes fabulous. It does take a little time -- an hour total in the oven, about -- but it's well worth the wait. We usually make a loaf and freeze half of it. It's a good alternative to the scones we eat every morning because it has a lot less butter; in fact, you don't use butter at all. Shortening is the key in this recipe, because it gives the bread a moist chewiness that you can't really get with just butter alone.
We haven't made this bread in awhile, but now that I'm looking over my recipe book, I want to make it right this second. I might do just that -- what a nice way to start a Saturday. I got the recipe from the Joy of Cooking, 1997 edition, and it seems to me like the breads and coffee cakes section is very similar to the 1975. For example, they suggest making this bread in a tin can: so that they slice prettily for tea." If you decide to use a can, opt for a 6-oz all metal can and only fill them about 3/4 of the way. This gives the bread enough room to expand. In addition, you'll want to cook it for less time, because the breads will be smaller than if you made just one loaf.
You should also plan on eating this bread soon after making it, as it tends to dry out quickly: "they wither young," the cookbook admonishes. It also mentions that these types of bread slice better if you wrap them in foil after cooling and refrigerate for about 12 hours. We have never done that, and slicing them has never been an issue, but that may only be because I don't really care if the slices are a bit jagged around the edges. That's fine by me, but were I serving a fancy tea, I might heed that advice. I do like to eat this bread with tea, though -- it's a great alternative to scones on a weekday morning.

Simple Banana Bread
Begin by bringing all your ingredients to room temperature -- 70º or so -- and preheat the oven to 350º. Sift together 1-3/4 a cup of sifted all-purpose flour, 2-1/4 teaspoons double-acting baking powder, and 1/2 teaspoon salt.
Blend in a separate bowl 1/3 cup shortening, 2/3 a cup of sugar, and 3/4 a teaspoon grated lemon rind. The acidity of the lemon makes the bread taste sweeter after it bakes. Beat in 1 large egg (or two small eggs) and 1 to 1-1/4 cups ripe mashed banana. This part is quite variable, because it depends on the size of the bananas you have, but two should be enough to make a moist and tasty bread. You can use nearly over-ripe bananas for this, making it ideal for baking near the end of the week, when your fruit has nearly spoiled and you're not interested in eating it plain. Just mash them with a fork before adding to the other ingredients.
Add the sifted ingredients in stages -- so it is easier to mix -- to the wet ingredients and beat the batter after each addition until it is smooth. You can opt to fold in 1/2 cup broken nutmeats, such as walnuts or cashews, and 1/4 cup chopped dried apricots. We made it with just the nuts -- no dried fruit -- and it was fantastic. You could also throw in some raisins if you'd like, but personally I am not a fan of dried fruit in my bread.
Pour the batter into a greased loaf pan (about 8x4 or a bit larger) and bake for about one hour, until done.
The recipe says that it needs to be cooled before you slice it, but you can eat it hot. It's tastier that way, I think!

White Bean Dip with Pita Chips

2007-02-02T21:29:00.000-06:00

I know I've trashed the Food Network before on this blog -- mostly Rachel Ray -- and I apologize for that. I really do like the Food Network; I just don't like Rachel Ray. I know she's popular, and she has her place, even in my house: I've watched her show a few times, and it's enjoyable. But she doesn't make the type of food that I want to make in my kitchen, and I think that whole 30-minute thing is kind of false advertising.
Anyhow, while Ray isn't really my cup of tea, I'm a big fan of Giada De Laurentis. I don't know how she stays so skinny while eating all that stuff, but she's such a soothing presence in the kitchen. She never shouts, never whines, and never almost cuts herself because she's busy telling a crazy story about her cousin's friend's dog's girlfriend. I can imagine actually cooking with Giada, which is why I like her show. And I'm Italian, too, so the food speaks to me. I know her cuisine isn't exactly classic Italian food, but it's fun to watch her prepare it, and she introduced me to the cannellini bean. For that I am forever grateful. I last mentioned these beans in the Butternut Squash Soup recipe, which was my first foray into using these beans in a context other than this dip. They really are extremely creamy beans, which makes them an excellent binder in a mostly vegetable-based soup, but they also work well for a dip like this because of that silky texture.
This dip is the first recipe that I ever made from her Everyday Italian: 125 Simple and Delicious Recipes book, which I bought with a gift certificate that I didn't know what to do with. I'm slightly embarrassed that I own this book -- I already know how to make the perfect red sauce, thank you, and I don't know that I need to be taught the basics on Italian food, which is what this book is supposedly for, but most of the recipes really are fantastic. This one is for a white bean dip, which she claims is the Italian version of hummus. She also gives instructions for making pita chips, but I've never tried those -- I just serve with tortilla chips and everybody has always been happy with that. This dip really flew off the plate the last time I served it at a gathering -- it's creamy, fairly healthy, and extremely tasty. The recipe requires a food processor, which I don't own (as you probably know by now) so we made it in the blender. It didn't work as well as it should have with the small amount of oil in the recipe, so we had to add more. I'd advise just making it in a processor if you can, because that will make a less oily dip. But, if necessary, a blender can be used.

White Bean Dip with Pita Chips
Begin making the pita chips, because they take about 20 minutes or so to prepare and bake. While they're baking, make the dip, and everything should be ready to eat all at once. Preheat the oven to 400º and split 4 pita pockets in half, so you have two skinny rounds. Cut each round into 8 wedges. Brush each side with olive oil -- you'll use about 2 tablespoons total -- and arrange on a baking sheet. Sprinkle the tops with a mixture made from 1 teaspoon dried oregano, 1 teaspoon ground pepper, and 1 teaspoon of salt.
Bake these in the oven for 8 minutes. Flip each chip and bake for another 8 minutes, until they are golden and crisped.
While the pita chips are baking, combine in the food processor 1 15-ounce can of cannellini beans (be sure to rinse them thoroughly and drain) with 1/4 cup (loosely packed) fresh flat parsley leaves, 1 clove of garlic, and 2 tablespoons of fresh lemon juice (the juice from about half a lemon should suffice.) Season with approximately 1/2 a teaspoon of salt and 1/4 teaspoon ground pepper.
Pulse until the mixture is finely chopped, then gradually blend in 1/3 a cup of olive oil, until the dip is creamy. Season with more ground pepper and serve with the warm pita chips (or with tortilla chips, if you prefer.)
We'll be eating this during the Superbowl; I hope you will be, too.

Authentic Buffalo Wings

2007-02-01T22:02:00.000-06:00

I know I've talked about these wings before, when I posted the guacamole recipe. My family was not television-friendly during my childhood (they're still not, really) but we did have an old-timey TV that was kept in the basement 364 days out of the year. The one exceptional day? Superbowl Sunday. We weren't even big sports fans, except for my father, and I don't think that my parents do this for the superbowl anymore -- my dad certainly watches, but I can't imagine them making guacamole and wings and nachos and all that delicious, high-calorie football food now that my brother and I aren't living there. I also think that we were so into it because it was our team, the Buffalo Bills, that were in the superbowl for three years straight. So it was pretty important to watch.
This year, my team is in the game, and we can't decide if we should go to the tailgating party (they're opening the parking lot at Soldier Field even though the game is in Miami, just for the tailgaters) or if we should just do our usual pigs at the trough routine at home. I imagine we'll do the later, but I think we'll try to keep it to a slight minimum this time -- a few less wings, a little bit less guac, and we should be able to emerge relatively unscathed, artery-wise. I just wish we had the red and white checkered picnic cloth that we used when I was young. I love traditions and when that cloth came out? It meant that it was football time.
Since I grew up only an hour away from Buffalo, NY -- the home of the chicken wing -- I'm a wing lover. The best wings in the world can actually be found in Niagara Falls, in my opinion, at a little pizza joint called Buzzy's. Their mascot is a pelican; I have no idea why. Their wings are spicy, juicy, and extremely delicious, but be warned: Suicide sauce is very hot -No Refunds or Exchanges. I think we always got the medium and those practically burn your lips off. I remember my father buying wings on his way home from work -- he commuted to Buffalo every day for a long time when I was in high school -- and bringing them all the way back for me. It's a long ride, and they were probably cold when they finally got home, but I didn't care. It was Buzzy's, and they were so, so, so good. I want some right now.
You can re-create the original chicken wing recipe, which is unfortunately not the recipe that is used at Buzzy's, but was the original sauce on the first chicken wings ever created at the Anchor Bar in Buffalo. You can also buy their new sauce -- I found it here in a Jewel/Osco market, halfway across the country from the actual Anchor Bar itself -- but it's kind of bland and really doesn't compare to the original recipe, which is made with Frank's RedHot Original Cayenne Pepper Sauce. That's right -- Frank's. You can find it anywhere and it make the best chicken wings you'll ever taste (unless you go to Buzzy's) right in your kitchen.
According to the legend, wings were traditionally a part of the chicken that was saved for making chicken stock and not considered edible fare. The kitchen owner's wife at the Anchor Bar, however, decided one night to fry them in oil and flavor them with a "secret sauce." I can only imagine what it was like to eat one of those first wings. They were probably pretty greasy, really spicy, and freaking awesome. I don't deep fry the wings -- too fatty and difficult to manage in my kitchen -- but they still taste delicious. I got the recipe from my father, who uses a frying pan with a lid instead of a tupperware container to coat the wings with the sauce, but I find it easier to just do it with a sealed container. All of our frying pans are cast iron and that makes them too heavy for me to shake around. So: how to make authentic buffalo wings.

Authentic Buffalo Wings
The grossest and hardest part -- the one I make him do because I'm too squeamish -- is first. Start with 2-1/2 pounds of chicken wings (it's a big recipe because it's intended to feed a huge group of people) and split them in half, at the joints, using a good knife. Once you get the hang of it, he tells me, it's not very difficult to find the joint and cut it properly. Also cut off the wing tip and discard. See the picture up there? The wing tip is that piece on the far left, there, and the wings are those two meaty looking chunks on the right. Yum.
Arrange them on an oven-safe baking rack and place a cookie sheet that has been wrapped in aluminum foil underneath the rack. Bake in a 425º oven for 45 minutes, turning the wings over halfway. The skin will be golden and crispy at the end, and the meat should be falling off the bone a little bit.
Now, mix together 1/2 a cup of Frank's Redhot Original Cayenne Pepper Sauce with 1/3 cup of melted butter. Pour half of this mixture in a large tupperware container -- big enough to fit about half the wings -- and add the wings to the tupperware. Close and shake vigorously. Repeat with the resf of the sauce and the remaining wings.
Serve with blue cheese sauce and a lot of celery. It helps cool down your mouth while you chow down and makes it seem like you're being healthy. Hahahahah! Healthy on Superbowl Sunday? Health is for the weekdays, not for game day.
Here's hoping the Bears win. If enough people eat these wings, they certainly will -- I'm pleased to report that only on days when we did not make chicken wings did the Bears lose -- all season. So the wings make them win. Especially if you eat them on a red and white checkered picnic blanket.
Go Wings!
I mean, Go Bears!

Salade Niçoise Sandwiches

2007-01-31T20:36:00.000-06:00

Although a specialty ingredient is required for this recipe, it's still really fun to make -- if you can get your hands on some olivada, a intense black olive paste made from pitted and brine cured black olives. We could not find this ingredient, and I'm afraid to say that the sandwiches suffered slightly as a result. Instead, we used an olive tapenade made primarily from green olives. I can only imagine how good the sandwiches with the black paste are -- I'm still looking for some good olivada, and I'm sure that Treasure Island, a "European-Style" market we go to often, has it somewhere.
Anyhow, these sandwiches are great to bring for lunch if you have access to a fridge, excellent paired with a bowl of soup for a dinner, and are easy to make in bulk. You just need some time to let them sit in the fridge. The recipe is another one from The Bon Appetit Cookbook (sponsored link) which I truly, truly love. It's a hefty tome, but it's beautiful and bright (I love the orange text and dust jacket, and the white embossed cover is a really nice touch) and it stays quite flat so you don't lose your place. I hold it open with a big binder clip when necessary and that works perfectly.
We made these sandwiches over the weekend while working on our graduate applications. He's done now, but at the time I believe he had two left, and we were working most weekends trying to get everything put together. These were a simple distraction and allowed us to continue our work practically uninterrupted as they sauced around in the fridge until it was eatin' time. We served them with some state fair potato salad (recipe forthcoming) and it was a splendid, fatty meal. Although fish is quite good for you, and we halved the amount of mayonnaise in both recipes, so it wasn't as naughty as it could have (or should have) been.
The recipe is named after a traditional French dish from Nice, Salade Niçoise (pronouced ne-shwa) that consists of tuna, egg, capers, green beans, artichokes, cucumbers -- a slew of things that aren't in these sandwiches. I suppose that's because they're a variation on the dish and wouldn't taste as good in this form, but it's hard to explain why they chose this name in that case. Most likely because it sounds fancy, and this is a fancy sandy. You could even serve it at a dinner party if the theme was right. The original recipe makes six, so something tells me that's exactly what the maker intended. I have cut it in half, to make three sandwiches -- save one for later and split it with a bowl of soup for a tasty lunch or dinner, if you've got a lot of soup. I'll bet this would be fantastic with red lentil soup.

Salade Niçoise Sandwiches
Start with a 1-pound loaf of soft french or italian bread. Cut into three sections crosswise, then cut each piece in half. These will be the bases for your sandwiches. Open the slices so that you are working with six pieces of bread.
Mix 1 drained can of tuna packed in water with 2 tablespoons drained capers, 3 tablespoons of mayonnaise, and 1 tablespoon of fresh lemon juice. Season with ground pepper. Make sure the tuna and sauce are combined well.
Spread 1/2 a tablespoon of olivada on each piece of bread and cover each slice with a fair amount of arugula or watercress -- trim off the bitter, hard-to-chew stems as you're washing the leaves.
Spread the bottom slice of bread with approximately 1/3 of the tuna mixture -- there will be no leftovers that aren't in sandwich form -- and top with thin slices of tomato and red onion. Place the top piece of bread on the sandwich.
Wrap each individual sandwich tightly in aluminum foil and refrigerate for at least an hour. They get saucier the longer you can wait, so bear with the clock for as long as you can before digging in. The result? An intensely briny, delectable sandwich with just enough zest and flavor. Plus, it's not very complicated to make, and most of the ingredients are already in my kitchen. You can substitute the olivada with a homemade version by throwing some pitted, brine-cured black olives in a food processor and hitting "puree" until they form a tasty paste.

This post was edited on 2/6/2007 to add a link to the Red Lentil Soup recipe.

15 Minute Mashed Cauliflower

2007-01-30T21:51:00.000-06:00

I have trouble with portion control. I'm often way too hungry to eat the small amount of recommended food, but I don't want to fill up on junk calories -- be it potato chips or an extra slice of chicken breast. That's why I adore vegetables. It's pretty difficult to eat too many veggies, which means that I can fill up my plate with cauliflower, spinach, green beans, peas... the list is endless. And vegetables are tasty, too, and can be very hearty while being simple to prepare.
Take last night, for example. We made some Amy's Chicken Sausages, which aren't entirely healthy on their own due to their high sodium content (although they are made from chicken rather than beef, which makes them better for you than standard sausage) and had some leftover onion soup. One sausage and a half a bowl of soup probably wouldn't fill me up, especially since my lunch usually consists of a pita, two small slices of cheese, a tablespoon of hummus, and a handful of baby carrots. So we boiled some broccoli, serving with 1/2 tablespoon of butter and a healthy sprinkle of black pepper. It was fantastic and provided the perfect accompaniment for the spicy sausage (we had the gouda and apple flavored kind, by the way. The cheese melts in little pockets when you boil rather than grill and oozes out deliciously.) The texture of well-cooked cauliflower or broccoli is really the most important thing, in my opinion, because you're going to be eating it as a side dish anyhow. I never add salt because it just detracts from the healthiness of the dish.
At the grocery store, we tried to buy cauliflower, but it was mostly brown-spotted. You want your cauliflower to be firm and perfectly white. Brown spots indicate that it's going bad, and it doesn't look as nice when it's on your plate if it is spotted. I prefer cauliflower -- I can't really say why, just that I'd rather eat it than broccoli. I think it has something to do with the texture, really, and cauliflower seems to take slightly longer to cook and is less prone to turning mushy.
I love that cauliflower is high in vitamin C -- just one cup provides more than 90% of your daily intake value -- is low in fat, and is in season during the winter, when many vegetables and fruits are not. It keeps for about a week in the fridge after purchasing it, which is an ample amount of time to get around to cooking it as opposed to a lot of other vegetables purchased during the wintertime. Store it stem side down to make sure that the florets don't accumulate moisture and spoil.
I saw this recipe when watching Jacques Pepin: Fast Food My Way (link plays sound effects) a show on our local PBS affiliate. I really enjoy watching this show, because he prepares everything from scratch and does it really fast -- not like Rachel Ray, whose "30-minute meals" would take at least 45 after you prep all the ingredients. He does almost everything right there and doesn't seem to rely on an unseen sous-chef to prepare his ingredients. There's nothing wrong with a sous-chef, but when you're touting "fast food" or "30-minute meals," it's important to deliver a product that actually meets those standards.
This recipe only takes about 15 minutes from start to finish and most of it is hands-off, leaving you free to prepare the main course as the cauliflower boils. We serve this as a side to nearly everything, but I prefer it with fish or poultry. It is so easy to make and it turns out spectacularly well that I don't think you need much vegetable experience to make it successfully. If you're wary about cooking veggies, try a simple recipe (such as this one) and you'll find that the product practically delivers itself, both in taste and simplicity.

15 Minute Mashed Cauliflower
Begin by bringing 1-1/2 cups of water to a boil in a saucepan. As the water heats up, turn a whole small cauliflower so the stem is facing up and cut through the core to remove the stem and leaves. Separate the cauliflower into bite-sized florets and wash throughly. Drain.
Add the florets to the boiling water and cook, covered, for 10 minutes. Do not stir, as stirring breaks up the florets. Drain the water and add 1-1/2 tablespoons of butter and some ground pepper to taste into the pot. Using a knife, chop the florets in a stirring motion to break them apart, chopping into fair-sized chunks.

Can you believe how easy that is to make? I suggest serving it with a dish that has a sauce because it will soak that right up from the plate. You can also serve it as is with some extra ground pepper for spice, or with some chopped chives for added zest. It's a delicious and nutritious side dish for many meals, and it's so very easy to prepare.

Soupe à l'Oignon Gratinée (French Onion Soup)

2007-01-29T20:33:00.000-06:00

It must be wintertime, because my dutch oven is getting a lot of use. I love making soup -- it's always been one of my favorite things to do in the kitchen, partially because it's very easy and quite foolproof. Don't have enough potatoes? Only chicken, no beef? It's ok, because a traditional, homestyle soup calls for nothing in particular: just what you have on hand. Another aspect of soup that I adore is that you can use almost dead vegetables, giving you extra mileage in the kitchen for that worn out stalk of celery you didn't get around to using, or those dingy looking carrots that aren't suitable for lunches or general human consumption. No one will know if the carrots started out a little sorry in the end -- they'll be too busy eating!
My parents were kind enough to bestow upon me their original two-volume edition of Mastering the Art of French Cooking, complete with box, after I mentioned that I had procured only the second volume at a book fair. Now I have two copies of volume two, but they're different editions -- which doesn't mean much. Still, if I ever lose one copy, I guess I have another to complete the set. Good to have, I guess. Anyhow, my father is fond of making the infamous French Onion Soup, found in the first volume, so I'm pretty thrilled that I own a copy of the book now so I can make it. Growing up, we had a very important birthday tradition: anything you want to eat was made to order on your birthday. My two most requested meals? Onion soup with chicken wings was one, and the other was vanilla milkshakes and bacon. I can't imagine eating onion soup and wings now (or vanilla milkshakes with bacon for that matter) -- much too heavy -- but when I was a kid, it was like being in heaven. My two favorite things together on one plate! Oh, the possibilities!
It's been cold here, cold enough to freeze the lake over halfway to Indiana, and one of the best winter meals is a hearty bowl of soup. This onion soup is easy to make, because all you need are onions, broth, butter, and vermouth. And time -- it requires a good amount of stirring and pot-watching, but that makes a fine excuse for staying out of the cold.

Soupe à l'Oignon Gratinée (French Onion Soup)
Begin by slicing, in thin strips, five cups of yellow onions (five cups is equal to about 1-1/2 pounds, if you buy one of those mesh bags full. We got a 3 pound bag and used half of it, for example.)
Once the onions are sliced, melt 3 tablespoons of butter with 1 tablespoon of oil in a large, heavy-bottomed soup pan over low heat.
Add the onions and cover, cooking over the low heat for 15 minutes.
Uncover and add 1 teaspoon of salt with 1/4 teaspoon sugar, which helps the onions caramelize and turn a delicious golden brown. Raise the heat to medium and stir frequently, cooking for 30 to 40 minutes more. Do not let the onions burn on the bottom of the pan -- you will probably need to be in the kitchen for this entire amount of time, or nearly all of it. About 20 minutes in, start boiling 2 quarts of beef stock or broth (or brown stock as per Julia Child's recipe, also found in Mastering the Art of French Cooking, which isn't extremely difficult but requires meat pieces and a fine strainer or cheesecloth. It's not hard, but it's an involved recipe.) Your onions will turn a beautiful golden brown and you'll want to eat them right away. Don't -- the best is yet to come.
Add 3 tablespoons of flour to the onions and stir for 3 minutes. Remove the pan from the heat.
Stir in the boiling stock or broth. Add 1/2 cup dry vermouth or dry white wine (we used vermouth, which is a nice ingredient when cooking because it's not really used in volumes as a drink mixer, leaving the same bottle to hang around for years before it's all killed off in one martini-binging "lets get rid of this old vermouth" afternoon.) Season with salt and pepper to taste (and, at this point if you so desire, my dad's "secret ingredient": Frank's hot sauce, just a few dashes.) Simmer, uncovered, for 30 to 40 more minutes, stirring and skimming occasionally. You really do want to skim, because a lot of the fat and flour rise to the top and form an unpleasant skin.
While you are waiting for the soup to finish, heat the oven to 325º. Cut a loaf of french bread into 1-inch wide rounds, one slice of bread per customer (or two, if you're serving small bowls.) Place on a baking sheet and bake for 15 minutes. After baking, brush each side with a bit of olive oil, then put back in the oven to cook for another 15 minutes.
Slice a few pieces of cheese -- the recipe recommends swiss or parmesan, but I'm fond of Gruyère -- and also grate a bit as well.
When the bread and soup are both ready, turn on the broiler to high. Place a slice of bread (which is referred to in the recipe as a "croute") in the bottom of a bowl. Ladle over a healthy portion of onion soup. The croute will float; place a few slices of cheese directly on the croute, being careful not to drop them into the soup.
Arrange the bowls on a baking sheet and put under the broiler for about 3 minutes, watching carefully. You do not want the cheese to burn, nor do you want to serve it without the cheese melting. It's a difficult balance to strike properly, but diligent watching will ensure that nothing goes wrong.
Serve, with a bowl of grated cheese on the side as garnish.
As Miss Child would say: "Bon appétit!"

Store Review: Sur La Table

2007-01-27T21:49:00.000-06:00

Today, it was grey and dreary outside, and we didn't make it past the doorstep until three pm. After lounging around and having a morning equally dismal to the sky (I spent the time working on another grad school application -- 11 down, three to go! -- and he cleaned up a storm. Pretty boring for a Saturday, if you ask me) we decided that it was high time we own a strainer. And a pastry brush. One that wouldn't burn if we got it hot. And a new oven mitt -- ours had a giant hole in it, from a burner/hot pan incident, and he was forever concerned that I was going to burn myself again through the hole, which was highly possible. Also, we were in need of some metal tongs and some cookie cutters, for the scones. We made away with two fancy cutters: a nice flower shape and one in the shape of a dachshund! I couldn't believe how many crazy cookie cutters this place had. Plenty of dinosaurs, but no simple squares (unless you bought a set, which I do not need.) I even saw a squirrel-shaped cookie cutter. I would love to know what kind of a person purchases and uses a squirrel-shaped cookie cutter, but I'm afraid it's someone a lot like me: I considered buying it.
So we went to Sur La Table, a fancy-pants kitchen utensil store within walking distance of our apartment. Of course we didn't walk, being that the windchill put the temperature at below zero, but we took a bus down Michigan that landed us three blocks from the store.
It's a great store to visit, especially if you're into kitchen gadgetry, although the salespeople tended to be a bit on the fake-helpful side. By that I mean they kept asking us if we needed help. Over and over, the same two people -- now, if I didn't need help ten minutes ago, why would I need help now? As we went to check out, they all disappeared, and we stood there, goods in hand, waiting for one of them to stop bugging the other patrons and deal with us, now that we were ready. Slightly annoying, but... that's what shopping is. People falling over themselves to help you until you actually need their help.
I'm throughly satisfied with everything that we bought, although I regret not getting the ice cream scoop we had debated on: it's perfect for portioning out the scones and for making meatballs. A very versatile tool that I'd love to have, unnecessary as it may be. Here's a picture of me using the new strainer to wash some baby carrots. You can see our new silicone oven mitt in the background, mouth open and ready for something hot to grab onto. I have to get used to it, though, as I'm not really comfortable with having my entire arm exposed to the hot oven. However, the larger silicone mitts are pretty awkward, since they're not as pliable as the standard fabric. One other great thing about this mitt? It's dishwasher-safe, which means that after getting melted chocolate all over it after baking scones? I just have to pop it in the dishwasher and it'll be clean as a whistle. Not so with our old, now discarded, fabric/rubber contraption: it was stinky and couldn't be washed, even in the laundry. So long, lame-mitt!

Adding to the list of things I wish I had purchased but didn't, due to my penny-pinching ways:
1. Another oven mitt. One isn't enough for properly grabbing things.
2. A really really nice kitchen knife. I didn't even bother looking, after seeing the price tags on the wall. But a girl can dream, right?
3. The plastic hot dog basket. He wanted one of these, and I should have gotten it for him! But I didn't, for some reason. He's a hot dog fanatic, and it would be really fun to have a bona fide basket for the house.
4. A garlic press. This, though, I can live without, because I love the smell of garlic on my hands. But it's a good thing to have around.
5. A silicone baking mat, or some silicone muffin cups. I'm really into the whole silicone bakeware thing right now, and I really would like a nice mat to use for prep and for baking.
6. A pickle fork, for him. Also doubles as an olive-picker, or so he says.
7. The ice-cream scoop, or possibly a meatball maker scoop (which they also had). Reasons listed above.

All in all, though, it was a highly successful trip to the store. I recommend Sur La Table for their fantastic selection, knowledgeable staff, and their prices -- some of which are high, I admit, but for most stuff it was very reasonable.

Sur La Table
52-54 East Walton Street
Chicago, IL 60611
312.337.0600
To find another location, click here.

Baked Chicken with Dijon and Breadcrumb Coating (Plus Quick Smashed Potatoes)

2007-01-26T20:41:00.000-06:00

My favorite thing about this recipe has to be how easy it is. When we hit that middle of the week rut and we're all out of fresh vegetables and fruit it can get pretty depressing. Often we'll resort to frozen pizza or something equally lame, but if we can handle the kitchen for about fifteen minutes, I'll throw together this quick baked chicken while he makes a delicious side dish (usually mashed potatoes). We usually have all the ingredients for this one on hand, since most of them are stock pantry items, except for the chicken -- he'll stop at the grocery store in his office building on the way home to grab some more veggies and fruit and also snag some chicken on the way out.
You can make this with standard chicken breasts, but I like to cut the breasts into strips for smaller chicken tenders. I like doing this because it helps control portion size, leaving a few for leftover that can serve as sandwich filler for lunch the next day. Another great thing about this recipe is that if you make mashed potatoes for a side, the timing works out remarkably well. If you throw the potatoes on the stove after preparing the chicken (but before putting it in the oven to bake) everything should be ready at once, allowing you to serve a hot meal all together. This is the mark of a truly successful dinner -- getting the timing just right.

Baked Chicken with Dijon and Breadcrumb Coating
Begin by preheating the oven to 400º. Line a baking sheet (or 9x13 inch pan) with foil.
You can use either fresh bread or pre-made breadcrumbs for this recipe, but since I don't own a food processor (have I mentioned this before? A few times, perhaps?) I always use ready-made, which turns out just fine. If you're going to go with fresh, use about 1/2 a loaf of french bread and tear it into pieces. Pulse the pieces in the food processor until they're finely ground.
In a large bowl, stir together 1 cup of breadcrumbs, 1/4 cup grated parmesan cheese, 1 tablespoon of sage (fresh or dried -- I use dried), and salt and pepper to taste. If you're using seasoned breadcrumbs you don't need to add extra salt, but I still grind in some pepper and throw in the sage. Probably unnecessary, but it adds an extra zing to the breaded coating.
In a separate dish, melt 1 tablespoon of butter. Mix in 1 1/2 tablespoons of dijon mustard.
I always rinse raw chicken before using it, but that's probably because I'm insane. In any case, pat the chicken dry. For this recipe, I usually use about one pound of chicken, which works out to six tenders or two breasts.
Brush the pieces with the mustard butter, or if you're not too squeamish, coat them using your hands. That's what I do, because I don't own a kitchen brush either! Mine melted in the Great Hot Frying Pan Fire of 2006 (Tip: Don't use a non-silicone brush on a hot frying pan. It will melt. And quite possibly burn.)
Throw the coated chicken pieces into the bowl of breadcrumbs and coat. You'll have some breadcrumbs left over (the original recipe wants you to use two cups, but I almost cried after seeing how much I threw away so I cut it down to one cup, which works just fine).
Arrange the chicken on your foil-lined baking sheet (another reason this recipe is so damn great: virtually no clean-up! no greasy pan to wash = love.) Bake for 25 minutes, until they're slightly browned on top and the chicken is done all the way through.

Quick Smashed Potatoes
If you want to make the mashed potatoes, here's a simplified version of the recipe. He usually makes these, so my portions might be off for the butter and milk -- just add a little at a time until the potatoes are the consistency you want.
Peel 3 medium sized russet potatoes and cut into large chunks.
Place in a pot and cover with cold water. The water should just cover the potatoes.
Place on a hot stove and boil for 20 to 25 minutes. Test to see if they're done with a fork or a knife. If they're easy to poke, they're ready to mash.
Mash, using a whisk or a large fork, or a Kitchen Aid Mixer (I! love! my! Kitchen! Aid! Mixer! -- and I'm not the only one, see? Mine is an extremely old model, though, and from the days when it only came in white. Can I have an orange one next time around, please?), together with approx. 1 tablespoon butter and about 1/3 cup of milk.

Squash Lasagna

2007-01-25T20:29:00.000-06:00

Making a whole new dinner with leftovers can be challenging, especially when your goal is to transform the food into something entirely new and different than the original dish. This lasagna uses butternut squash soup in lieu of the more traditional tomato sauce. You're left with a dainty, lighter version of vegetable lasagna that's as spectacular cold as it is hot. We like to make a whole 9x13 pan and bring the leftovers for lunch. You could also make two smaller casserole dishes full and freeze one, then pop it in the oven to bake it whenever you desire.

Squash Lasagna
Start by boiling a large pot of lightly salted water. Add a package of lasagna noodles and cook according to the directions on the package -- about eight to ten minutes should do it. You could use no-boil noodles in this recipe (which we do sometimes) but the boiled noodles aren't terribly hard to work with and they taste slightly better. No-boil noodles tend to be a bit tougher to chew, in my experience.
As your noodles boil, prepare the cheese filling by mixing together: 2 cups of ricotta cheese (1 16-oz. container), 1 cup of grated mozzarella cheese, 1/2 cup of parmesan cheese, 1 egg, 1/4 teaspoon of oregano or basil, and 1/4 teaspoon of nutmeg.
Drain the noodles and rinse with cold water, which will prevent them from sticking to one another. Allow them to cool slightly.
Put about 1 cup of the butternut squash soup in the bottom of a 9x13 inch pan. Lay noodles, side by side (slightly overlapping, if you're using no-boil) on top of the saucy soup.
Layer with about 2/3 a cup of the cheese mixture. Pour another 1 cup of the soup on top of the cheese, then layer with more noodles.
Repeat the layering process until the dish is complete. It should be about three layers, total. The top layer will be the soup, then sprinkle some extra mozzarella and parmesan cheese for the topping.
Cover the dish with foil and place in a 375º oven for 25 minutes.
Remove the foil and bake for another 20 minutes, until it is bubbling and lightly browned on top.
Another way to transform this dish (and make more manageable portions) would be to make stuffed shells or lasagna rolls. Simply boil the shells or lasagna noodles and spoon the cheese into each shell (or put about a tablespoon of cheese onto each lasagna noodle, then roll into a cannoli shape). Put 1 cup of the butternut squash soup in the bottom of a 9x13 pan, then arrange the shells or rolled up noodles. Cover with 1 1/2 cups of soup and bake at 350º for about 45 minutes (cover with foil and remove halfway through, as with the recipe above) until it bubbles and becomes golden.
Time to eat! I love this recipe, mostly because it allows you to create a brand new dish made from easy to store leftovers. The soup becomes more solidified and easier to manage as a sauce after it's been refrigerated for about a day, which makes this an ideal planned-leftover situation.
As I mentioned, this is also really great cold. It becomes more solid, and unlike a red-sauce lasagna, it isn't too gooey, which means you can eat it with your hands like a sandwich. Perfect for lunch or a quick snack. And it's relatively healthy, especially if you take a piece that has a little less cheese!

Butternut Squash Soup

2007-01-24T20:44:00.000-06:00

This is a recipe that we came up with after using cannellini beans for the first time, in a hummus-like dip that is just fantastic (recipe located here). These beans are extremely creamy and we thought it would be an excellent addition to the squash soup I made all last winter. This recipe is great because the carrots and squash make it a very vibrant orange, and the whiteness of the beans only enhances the color.
I usually make an extra-large batch and freeze at least half of it. I serve about a quarter of the remainder (saving any leftovers for the next day) and reserve the rest for a tasty squash lasagna -- the recipe for that will be up tomorrow, so make the soup now and be ready to use the leftovers! I used this same recipe for Thanksgiving and it was a huge hit. Even my youngest cousin, who refuses all vegetables (he says they're "grody") ate his entire portion. And then he asked for more. Sorry, cuz, it's all gone already!

Butternut Squash Soup
This recipe makes enough soup for leftovers and a lasagna, so if you want less, cut all the amounts by half for a more manageable sized soup.
Peel, seed, and cube two large butternut squashes. I recommend you do this first because it's quite an involved task and takes some time. You can also buy pre-cut squash in many grocery stores. I've made it both ways and I must admit that the pre-cut, although more expensive, makes your job a lot easier and takes about an hour off of the total cooking time.
(Equipment Aside: I had a really crummy vegetable peeler for the longest time, but one day by boyfriend surprised me with a brand new "Y" peeler, made by Oxo Good Grips. It was later revealed on America's Test Kitchen that this is the peeler to own. For only five dollars, I'm not struggling with difficult-to-peel vegetables like squash anymore, and I run a zero percent chance of slicing off the tip of my finger with this puppy. It just plain rocks.)
Anyhow, after your squash is ready to go, begin by mincing 1 large white onion and 2 cloves of garlic. Cook the onion on a low heat in the biggest soup pot you own with 1 tablespoon of butter and 1 tablespoon of olive oil until it is nearly translucent, then add the garlic. Garlic, by the way, cooks much faster than onions do, and you don't want it to burn. Burned garlic does not taste very good. Add a few dashes of the following to the pan: pepper, salt, nutmeg, cayenne pepper, and cinnamon. Cooking the spices at this stage helps them bloom, leaving a less harsh spice-like flavor to your soup.
Chop and add 4 to 6 stalks of celery and 4 to 6 large carrots to the soup. A rough chop will do, since the soup will ultimately be blended using a processor (if you have one -- did I mention that I don't?) or a blender if necessary. Add the squash and cook over the heat for just a few minutes until the spices are evenly blended onto the vegetables.
Make a "hot spot" in your pan by pushing the squash and other veggies out of the way as much as possible and pour 4 cans of well-rinsed cannellini beans onto the hot spot. Stir them to incorporate into the vegetables.
Add 2 32-ounce cans of chicken broth (I prefer low sodium and low fat, because it really doesn't make a difference when it's made into soup anyhow) to the vegetables. Bring to a boil, then reduce the heat to medium. Simmer for about 20 minutes, until the squash is soft and breaks apart when you press it gently with a spoon.
Turn off the heat and let the soup cool a bit, then transfer it into a blender or food processor. Blend until smooth. You may have to do this part in stages, depending on the size of your blender. Transfer it back into the soup pot and bring to a low boil. It's ready to serve! You can garnish it with some sour cream if you'd like, but I never do that. Ever. Just eat it alone, because it's marvelous and can really stand up for itself without add-ons.
Another way to make this soup is to substitute the butter and oil with bacon fat. You can chop the bacon -- quite finely -- and then throw it in the food processor or blender when you puree the soup. This adds more depth and flavor to the soup, but also more fat.
Tomorrow, I'll tell you how to make a delicious and vegetarian-friendly (if you don't make the soup with bacon, that is) lasagna from the leftovers. It's really easy, fun, and is pretty healthy for a lasagna.

This post was edited on 2/2/2007 to add a link to the White Bean Dip recipe.

Candied Sweet Potatoes

2007-01-23T22:27:00.000-06:00

We had a long day yesterday, and after stopping at two stores on the way home, we were exhausted and just didn't want to prepare a complicated meal. Good thing we had some sweet potatoes kicking around waiting to be eaten. I adore sweet potatoes: it's something we never had in my house growing up, and I love baking them in the oven (400º for about an hour) right in their jackets, then popping them open for an easy and healthy side dish. You don't even need to top them with butter; their sweetness alone makes them rich and creamy enough for automatic consumption.
We were to hungry to wait for an hour, and these were gigantic potatoes, which means that baking them, naturally, would take even longer than that. So we scrounged around for a good, easy recipe -- a quick scrounge, I might add, since we were practically starving at this point -- and found one in our good old standby, the American Heritage Cookbook (last mentioned here, in the post about Macaroni Pudding, or Mac'n'Cheese.) Out popped a recipe for Candied Sweet Potatoes, which was ridiculously simple to prepare and really good to eat. Comfort food, I like to call it.
I ate it plain, with nothing on the side, since I was too lazy to make anything else. The three potatoes made a huge batch (a full 9x13 inch pans worth, to be exact) and there are plenty of leftovers. I think he supplemented his with meatballs, which we made last Friday (recipe forthcoming.) Just potatoes is not enough for a growing man. We made a half-batch, considering that we only had half the amount of potatoes the recipe called for, but like I said -- plenty of food to go around. I can imagine this dish on Thanksgiving tables around America, as it would be a fantastic accompaniment to turkey or chicken.

Candied Sweet Potatoes
We began by heating the oven to 400º. The recipe wanted it to be at 350º for over an hour, but like I said -- we were too hungry to wait that long. And they're potatoes, not a tough cut of meat or some kind of dainty vegetable, so they can stand the heat and resulting slower cook time.
I peeled 3 good-sized sweet potatoes and began slicing them into rounds, which were too large for a normal person's mouth, so I halved the rounds and was left with nice moon-shaped pieces.
As I continued chopping, he took over the stove-top, melting together 2 tablespoons of butter, 1/2 cup light brown sugar, and 1/4 cup of water over medium heat until the sugar dissolved and the butter was completely melted. He then added some salt and pepper, to taste. This turns into a delicious sauce, a light brown and slightly watery topping for the potatoes.
We arranged (not too carefully; a more accurate term would be "we threw") the potatoes in a 9x13 inch Pyrex pan and poured the sauce over them. Into the hot oven it went (top rack, back half, which is the hottest part of our oven) for about 30 minutes, then we took them out and stirred it up with a spatula. The recipe says to "baste once or twice," but I don't own a baster, and I don't think that would have dramatically different results than the simple stir did.
Back into the oven they went, for about 10 more minutes and another stir. They still weren't done (as we had feared) so we ate some leftover guacamole and waited another 10 minutes for them to finish baking.
These were just splendidly delicious. I think that they could use slightly more sauce, or perhaps the sauce needed some more spice (I'm thinking allspice would be perfect, which I use on sweet potatoes frequently) but they were light, refreshing, and a wonderful full meal for me. I think they would be an excellent side dish for poultry or a heavier fish, but they really were splendid on their own.

Easy Guacamole

2007-01-22T23:00:00.000-06:00

This is a recipe that I made up. It's probably not real guacamole, and it's not very spicy, but it really hits the spot on a cold day. Especially when there's a game on.
I must note that I'm not a big sports person -- I didn't play them as a child, went to a college that didn't have a football team, and would be hard-pressed to name a positive experience relating to phys-ed in high school. Still, though, living in Chicago has sparked an interest in both football and baseball in me, an interest that is superficial at best. I trace it to the food. Hot dogs, chicken wings, nachos -- naughty, naughty food that's not even prepared well. And yet... it tastes so great. Hooray for processed cheese!
Anyhow, my artificial interest in the Chicago Bears somehow paid off, since we're going to the Superbowl this year. Superbowls were always a big thing when I was growing up: we didn't have a television set in our house, but there was one that went unplugged in the basement for the majority of the year. Superbowl Sunday, though, that TV came out, along with a red-checkered picnic blanket, and we would pig out on wings and nachos on the floor for hours. What fond memories I have of that, even though our team at the time (The Buffalo Bills) never won a Superbowl. At least we made it three times, right?
Anyhow, yesterday we made some guacamole, which is a deviation from our usual Sunday game tradition, which involves copious amounts of chicken wings and celery. I was all winged out from last week, though, as was he, and we decided that a guacamole detour was just what the doctor ordered.
We served it with some local tortilla chips, which are really great because they make a no salt version. If I'm dipping, I don't need salt on my chips.

Easy Guacamole!
I start with the fillers in this recipe, because the avocados tend to brown when they're out in the open for too long without their skins. Dice 4 good-sized vine tomatoes, 1 small onion, and 1 small clove of garlic.
Add 5 peeled and pitted avocados.
Mash with a fork until the avocados are fairly smushed. A few chunks are OK, though, since they add a nice texture to the dip.
Add about 1/4 cup chopped fresh cilantro. Grind in some pepper, a few dashes of salt, and a healthy dose of cayenne pepper to taste.
Put the avocado pits back in the guacamole and cover with lime juice (about 1/2 a lime should do -- save the other half for the leftovers). The lime juice goes a long way in preventing browning.
Cover the bowl with some saran wrap or tinfoil (if you're out of saran wrap, as we were -- whoops!) and let the dip sit in the fridge for at least an hour.
Serve with tortilla chips after stirring to incorporate the lime juice (and removing the pits from the dip). You may want to save the pits, though, to put back in any leftovers you may have. Along with the lime juice, the pits will keep the guacamole from becoming brown. It's OK to eat brown avocados, but it's just not as pleasant to look at.
We had so much left over that we used it as a topping for hamburgers. That was also delicious.
Sometime later this week (in preparation for the Superbowl!) I'll give my patented wings recipe, which has fans all over the globe panting for more. It really is that good.

This post was edited on 2/1/07 to add a link to the Authentic Chicken Wings recipe.

German Pancake with Lemon and Sugar

2007-01-20T22:17:00.000-06:00

Oh, Saturday morning. I love you almost as much as Sunday, which is only better because we get two newspapers on Sunday, and they're both really chunky. Saturday, we only get two sections; Sunday, there are at least twenty different sections of paper to mull over. It could take an entire day to read the Sunday paper. Glorious.
We made Saturday a wonderful day anyhow, sans buckets of newspaper on the floor. We started the day off right with some coffee and a German Pancake. This pancake is phenomenal. It makes a delightfully light and refreshing breakfast, especially with the addition of lemon juice. I tend to drench mine in powdered sugar, which makes it even tastier, but that's really a matter of personal preference. The recipe is so easy to make that you can do it with your eyes closed, which is an important feature since I know I'm not awake until I've had a few cups of coffee, and by that time I'm starving.

German Pancake with Lemon and Sugar
Start by putting 1 tablespoon of butter in a 9-inch pie pan. Begin preheating the oven (to 425º) with the pan inside. The butter will melt as the oven preheats. This part is extremely important because it allows the sides of the pancake to rise as it bakes without the use of a traditional leavening agent, such as baking soda or baking powder.
As your oven is heating, beat together with a wire whisk the following ingredients: 1/2 cup flour, 1/2 cup milk, and 2 eggs. Add a dash of cinnamon and a pinch of salt to the mixture.
When the oven is ready, take out the pan and pour in the mixture. It will start sizzling and you might worry that the bottom will burn too much. Don't fret, it won't burn at all.
Back in the center of the oven for 12-15 minutes.
To serve, sprinkle with lemon juice (fresh, if possible) and powdered sugar.
After the pancake (and several cups of coffee) we went ice skating. The rink is practically in our backyard, and the ice had just been Zambonied. It was entirely empty when we began, which allowed me to get hold of my "ice legs" before the crowd arrived. No showing off for me, though, since I can barely keep both feet on the ground without tipping over. I didn't fall once, however -- a feat of epic proportions! Especially since a grown man, children in tow, fell and broke his glasses. His kids thought it was hilarious, he just kept muttering about how he never takes risks and shouldn't have been so careless. He had been skating at the pace of a snail, so I'm not sure what the risk was. Going on the ice in the first place, perhaps? That made me pretty sad, but there wasn't much I could do. So, I skated on.

New Scandinavian Cooking: Halibut with Herbs and Rosemary-Lemon Butter

2007-01-19T21:40:00.000-06:00

Today, I'm featuring a delightful cooking show that airs on our local PBS station*: New Scandinavian Cooking. The show is produced in Norway and about to begin its fourth season, and rumors are that a new chef will be taking the hot seat: Claus Meyer, a Danish chef -- or gastronomic entrepreneur, as his website boasts. Although his website seems pretty firm on the details, providing stills and even a CV, the official website of the series (scandcook.com) says that Andreas Viestad, the beloved season one and two chef, will be back for a fourth season.
I'm inclined to believe Chef Meyer's website, mostly because the Scandcook website is kind of crazy. For example: click on the link to read Andreas's bio and you're taken to Tina Nordström's bio page. She's the host of the third season, and I dare say I like her even more than Andreas. I caught the show with her as the host, and when I stumbled upon a repeat of season two, I got pretty flustered. "Where's Tina? Her theme song is so much better!" (the theme songs for this show totally freaking rock, by the way). But I got used to Andreas and his wacky ways, and now I'm sad that neither of them will be back for a new season. But I'm excited for Danish food, which will be a new type of cooking for the series. Andreas specializes in Norwegian food; Tina, in Swedish.
The best thing about this show has to be the way that the food is made. Unless there are some serious weather conditions -- and I mean serious -- the food is prepared outdoors on a sort of fold out kitchen table/stove combination. You even get to watch the chef put together this contraption in fast motion, which is a trip. Watching it real-time would be a drag, but with the cool music and tah-dah pose at the end of the setup, it's one of the highlights of the show. When I mentioned weather conditions, I was understating dramatically. This guy makes ice cream on a glacier in one episode. He's not even wearing gloves, people. He churns his own butter, milks cows, rides horses, stays up all night and day making bread. Tina catches fish and guts them right on the boat (throwing the remains out to "his old friends -- a tasty treat!")

Halibut with Herbs and Rosemary-Lemon Butter
One of my favorite episodes of all time is Andreas's Royal White Halibut, which happens to be the first episode of the first season. They really knew how to launch this show, I tell you, because this episode has to be one of the more sensational ones (besides the glacier making ice cream escapade, which takes place later in the same season). One of the best things about the show in general is that they visit a particular area, cook some food local to that area, and offer up some interesting (I believe they call it "rich") history of the place. This episode is in Alta, which is far, far north. It's impossible to grow nearly anything in this climate, what with the rocky soil and the freezing temperatures, but the halibut is plentiful. We visit some local fishermen, who offer to let us trek onto their boat for an expedition out to sea. The theory is to catch some halibut and then cook it after returning to land; Andreas one-ups them by making them an appetizer on the boat, ten minutes after the fish has been caught. Wow, dude. Way to feed those hungry sailors! (Tina is fond of finding "hungry sailors" and feeding them her creations, by the way, and she says so in several episodes).
They soon return to land, 20-pound halibut in tow. He starts by cleaning the fish (thanks for the instructions, because next time I have a 20-pound fresh halibut in my kitchen, I'll know exactly what to do) and rubbing the skin on both sides with sea salt. He then sets to rubbing it with massive quantities of rosemary, chopped parsley, thyme, chopped fresh bay leaves (although he mentions that dry will suffice), and marigold.
Andreas sets to digging a pit in the sand on the beach; I'm sitting on my couch thinking: the hell? What's going on here? He's going to cook the fish in the hole. Sand and all. He starts by laying down some seaweed, then, some sticks and brush. He lights those on fire and covers them with a few large slabs of rock. More seaweed; then, the fish. A fish and seaweed sandwich, with rocks and sand for garnish! Tasty!
No, really, he's actually cooking the fish in the sand-pit. I'm quite impressed. Also worried about the texture of the sand, but he seems to think it will be fine. He begins to stuff the fish with more ridiculous amounts of the herbs above, and sets it on the seaweed bed. More seaweed on top; then, after it's covered, he pours a bottle of dry white wine (saving a glass for himself, which he drinks straight from the bottle immediately) over the entire thing. Then, a layer of sand is shoveled on top of the whole mess. Steam is pouring out from all directions. How will he know when the fish is ready to eat? Why, of course! A high-tech thermometer was placed carefully in said fish before cooking and the digital output rests on the mound of steaming sand. Brilliant! That's how they did it in the old days.
Two hours later, and the fish is ready to eat. Andreas and some of his fishing buddies dig their old friend out from his steaming grave and place him on a giant platter. It takes two men to carry it to the carving table and feeds a large crowd of twenty or so people mingling about. I wonder, did they see the steaming sand pit and say: look! Someone must be cooking halibut! More likely they were invited to the shoot, but still, it's funny to imagine them all happening upon the fish during a chilly stroll on the beach.

Want to make this at home? Substitute the 20-pound halibut for four 1/3 pound halibut steaks. Rub them with about 2 teaspoons sea salt, then create a bed of herbs in the frying pan out of 1 cup of parsley, 1 cup total rosemary, marigold, thyme, and 4 bay leaves. Use about half of the total amount on the bottom, the rest should cover the fish as it cooks.
Place the fish on the bed of herbs and cover with the remaining spices. Pour about 3/4 cup dry white wine ("Use wine that you would actually drink," Andreas recommends; otherwise, your fish won't taste any good) over the top and cover the dish. Bake in a 400º oven for about 15 to 20 minutes, until the fish is opaque throughout. We just made it directly on the stove, which turned out splendidly and took less time than baking. Brush off the herbs to serve.
You can make a rosemary butter sauce to serve with the fish, which I highly recommend. Reserve and cook down the liquid from the finished fish, until you have about 1/4 cup of the juices left. Put this to the side.
Heat 1 tablespoon butter ("until it bubbles enthusiastically"). Add 1 tablespoon chopped rosemary, 1 teaspoon chopped thyme, and 1 bay leaf. Cook for about two minutes, then add 7 more tablespoons of butter. After it melts, drop in 1 teaspoon chopped tarragon, 2 teaspoons chopped parsley, and 1 teaspoon finely grated lemon zest. Cook for about five more minutes over medium heat. Be careful not to let the sauce boil; otherwise, the butter will burn. Add 2 to 3 tablespoons lemon juice, the 1/4 cup reduced marinade from the fish, and season with salt and pepper. Strain sauce and discard any chunks of herb that remain.
Pour the sauce over the halibut (tip: keep the fish warm by covering it while you make the sauce) and it is ready to eat.
Jättegott! (Delicious!)
If you ever get the chance to watch this show, I highly recommend it. It's really a treat to watch experienced chefs brave the outdoors and conquer food in its natural setting. It is much more informative, exciting, and delightful than anything you'll find on the Food Network Channel. Not to knock the Food Network, which has its place, but this program far surpasses most other cooking shows on-air today.

*The website says that the show is available to 347 public television stations in the US. It's also available on cable television (no stations listed) and DVDs can be purchased on the official website.

Early Morning Breakfast: Chocolate-Chip Orange Scones

2007-01-18T09:28:00.000-06:00

I am not a morning person, but my job requires that I haul myself out of bed at the ungodly and depressingly dark hour of five thirty in order to shower and clothe myself properly before heading out into the wintry mix that is Chicagoland. I walk to work, by the lake and over the river, which may sound like a wonderful treat to those who do not live in Chicago. In 8º, 10º, or 0º temperatures -- colder by the lake, of course, and that doesn't even take the wind chill into account -- that mile-long walk is just a disaster. Maybe I'm not wearing the right gloves or something, but my hands are usually blue when I finally get to my building. I'm responsible for "processing" the morning newspapers, which essentially means that I get to carry them upstairs (thanks, guys, for putting them in the biggest puddle you could find. That is so cool of you!) and place them on sticks. Out to the floor they go, where no one ever reads them. Because they are on sticks, and newspapers on sticks are a hassle to read. Next time you're at a library that has newspapers done this way, read them, or at least shuffle them around a little bit, out of pity for the poor person that meticulously tapes down the loose pages and covers herself in newsprint before seven am.
I am fortunate enough (and oh so grateful) to have a boyfriend that will wake up with me, even though he doesn't have to be at work until eight am. Eight in the morning! Lucky dog. He prepares my tea while I blow-dry my hair (otherwise it freezes, and I'm afraid of getting frostbite on my head) and puts out a small breakfast for us. If we're lucky, the paper arrives ten minutes before I have to leave, and we get some quality time reading an article or two (often out loud, if it's me doing the reading, since I always think the news is outrageous: "Get THIS! Representative Debbie Wasserman Shultz (FL; D) buys her Valentino on Ebay!) before I have to dash.
This past weekend, we made some scones for breakfast. We'd been purchasing scones at our local (and new) Trader Joe's, and while they were tasty, there were only three per bag. That's not enough for a week! After seeing this recipe (again, from Bon Appetit Cookbook) we decided, late Sunday night, that this was the perfect breakfast for the week. Especially since we didn't have any other breakfast lined up for the next morning.
These are delicious, and they have kept extremely well. I don't know if it's just me, but I like to keep my bread and bread-based products in the refrigerator. I think it makes them last longer, which may or may not be true. This recipe made 22 small scones, and I'd like to make them bigger next time around. Not owning cookie cutters, we used a shot glass to cut the dough, but I think maybe a small wineglass would make a better sized scone. I think you could even just make rounds with your hands, but what do I know? The recipe calls for a cookie cutter, so... shot glass it was!

Chocolate-Chip Orange Scones
Get the boring stuff out of the way first: preheat the oven to 400º and butter and flour a baking sheet.
I'm big on "prepping," that is, getting my ingredients ready to go and making as many containers as I possibly can dirty by putting the readied ingredients into them before they go into the recipe. Nonsensical, but it makes me feel more organized. So, I'd get the zesting out of the way first. Zest an orange, thoroughly, so you have about 3 teaspoons of orange zest. Also, chop your chocolate. We had, on hand, some gigantic milk chocolate chips made by Ghirardelli. They came in a gift basket (from his father: thank you!) in a big blue tin, and they're very tasty. I think you can use any type of chocolate you like, but the recipe says semi-sweet. We chopped up the chips, since they really are gigantic, and ended up with about 1 cup of chopped chocolate. I do have to say, I'm a big fan of using a knife to chop up chocolate, rather than just purchasing chips. You end up with a lot of different sized pieces this way (especially if you do a rough chop) and that's just more pleasant in a cookie, scone, or other baked chocolate-chip good, in my opinion.
Whisk together 2 cups of all-purpose flour, 1/3 cup of sugar, 1 teaspoon baking powder, 1/2 teaspoon baking soda, and 3/4 teaspoon salt until they are combined. Add 1/2 cup of butter (1 stick) which should be chopped up into manageable pieces and 2 teaspoons orange peel; rub into the flour mixture until it looks like a coarse meal. I have to stop for a moment to profess my love for my KitchenAid Stand Mixer, which was a gift from my great-aunt to my mother, who passed it on to me. I use it all the time, for everything from meatloaf to cookies, and it's one of my favorite kitchen tools of all time. Nevermind that I don't own a strainer, food processor, double-boiler, vegetable steamer, or a medium-sized pot: I have a KitchenAid! It can steam vegetables, right? Plus, it's gorgeous. I can't wait until I have to move into an apartment with a tiny kitchen and eschew a microwave so that the mixer can have a proper place of honor on the counter.
Back to the recipe. Now, mix in the chocolate. Yum.
In a separate container, combine 2/3 a cup of chilled buttermilk, 1 large egg yolk, and 1 teaspoon vanilla extract.
Add the liquid to the flour/butter mixture, and stir with a fork (or with your KitchenAid Mixer!) until it forms into clumps. Gather into a ball, then press out onto a lightly floured surface to about a 3/4 inch thickness. Of course, I used every last teaspoon of flour I had on the pan and in the dough, so I just used some parchment paper, and it didn't stick at all. Fabulous.
Using a 2-inch cookie cutter (the recipe says "heart-shaped," but I think they should be "crazy-shaped," or "circular," or "shot-glass shaped," which is just circular, I guess) cut out the scones, then roll up the dough and cut more scones. Repeat until the dough is gone.
Lay them out on your lightly buttered and floured cookie sheet, about 1 inch apart. You can stop now and put them in the fridge, then pop them in the oven in the morning for fresh-baked scones, but I don't have time for that. It is a really good idea, though.
Mix 3 tablespoons of sugar with the remaining 1 teaspoon of orange zest. Brush scones lightly with buttermilk and top with the sugar/orange mixture. Don't skip this step, because it makes the scones really fabulous. Bake until the scones are lightly browned on top and a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. It should be about 15 minutes, 20 if they're coming from the fridge.
Eat them, commenting frequently on how light and refreshing they are. Must be the orange zest. These scones are delicious with tea, probably very good with coffee, and are an excellent thing to bring as a dessert for after lunch.

Layered Macaroni and Cheese (Macaroni Pudding)

2007-01-17T20:11:00.000-06:00

Made the macaroni and cheese last night, which was quite a success. I especially enjoyed making the bechamel sauce, which is known as a "mother sauce" of French cuisine. Now that's a great phrase: Mother Sauce. This macaroni and cheese, then, was the mother of all mac n cheese dishes. And boy did it taste like it.
This recipe is from 1802 (I added a year when mentioning it yesterday, making it one year younger than it actually is) and comes from the American Heritage Cookbook And Illustrated History Of American Eating & Drinking (left). We purchased this for two dollars at a local book fair along with about ten other cookbooks. One of these cookbooks, The Congressional Club Cookbook, seemed like it would be a perfect source for classic macaroni and cheese. The recipes in this book are all gleaned from the kitchens of congressional wives and makes an interesting history of dining as a senator, congressman, or president. My favorite section in the book is the "Men's Only" chapter, designed specifically for that rare senator that can cook. Lots of game, liquor-based substances, and generally gross stuff in that chapter. Strangely enough, the only recipe that slightly resembled what we were hoping to eat had ground beef in it. No. Thanks. Next! American Heritage Cookbook to the rescue.
The book, as many cookbooks do, tried to delight the reader with an anecdote regarding macaroni and cheese, but the story falls flat, at least for the modern reader, mostly because it's just plain weird. It concerns a dinner with Thomas Jefferson in which the lead character confuses the macaroni for onions and the cheese for liquor. It could be amusing, I guess, were it 1802.
I used skim milk; which, coupled with the butter, made a slightly less-fatty sauce than originally intended by the recipe. I didn't find the dish too healthy, though, as it was laden with more than three cups (by all estimates) of two types of cheddar cheese, some parmesan cheese layers, and the slightly-less-sinful-than-usual bechamel. Health concerns aside, it was delicious, which is all you can really ask for in a macaroni and cheese. The top was perfectly crusty and crisp, the bottom of the casserole dish had just enough macaroni stuck to it, forcing the eater to work a little harder for a slice, and the layers melted into one another perfectly.
Again, we ate our fill for dinner (with his sister, which was a nice treat) and had more than half left over. We had so much, in fact, that two separate dishes were made. We're saving one for later in the week -- I'm debating whether or not to freeze it, since I'm not sure if it will do well in the freezer. Will that make it taste all strange when it's finally re-baked? Nobody knows.

Macaroni Pudding (aka Delightfully Plain and Simple Mac N-Cheese)
Begin by boiling a large pot of lightly salted water. While it is working itself into a boil, begin grating your cheese. The recipe calls for two cups, but that's just not enough. Try for three; four, if you're the adventurous type.
We used 1 1/2 cups of light sharp cheddar and 1 1/2 cups of dark, milder cheddar. We also purchased some pre-ground parmesan cheese -- again, not in the recipe, but an essential cheese in my opinion.
When the water is boiling, throw in two and a half to three cups of dried macaroni. It should only take about seven minutes to cook. Stir often to prevent stickiness and be sure to test well before the seven minute mark. You'll want pasta that's just firm to the bite, cooked al dente.
When the macaroni is finished cooking, drain quickly and begin rinsing in cold water. Be sure to move the noodles around as you rinse to prevent them from sticking to one another. I did this by setting them in our salad spinner and immersing the whole thing with cold water, stirring as I filled the spinner. This was a nice way to do it because the bowl underneath the grates held the cold water, allowing it to really get around the noodles as I stirred. I drained the spinner and left the noodles to dry.
Meanwhile, I got started on the bechamel. This is the fun part. Melt, over medium heat, a quarter cup of butter (half a stick). Don't melt it too fast -- the butter must not burn. After it is melted, add 1/4 cup of flour and begin whisking. Whisk together until the butter and flour are completely combined. I actually sifted the flour right into the butter in order to make it as smooth as possible, but that's probably an unnecessary step. I just wanted to try out our new flour mill.
Next, begin adding the milk. Like I said, we used skim milk, mostly because that's what we keep around the house. It worked very well, but I imagine that Careme is spinning in his grave. You need to add it quite slowly and whisk constantly, using 2 1/4 cups of milk in all. Add slowly; whisk constantly: this is the mantra of the mother sauce.
Your sauce will begin to thicken up as you continue to whisk. Watch carefully for small bubbles to appear on the top of the sauce, which indicates that it is beginning to thicken, and be sure that the sauce does not stick to the bottom of the pan. You'll need the heat at a relatively low medium temperature throughout the process. If the sauce appears too watery, just keep whisking and turn the heat up slightly. Too high, though, and it will burn. I wish, now, that we had added some red pepper flakes to the sauce itself, just because how tasty would that be? Very.
After the sauce is done, turn the heat very low and begin assembling the dish in layers. One layer of macaroni, one of cheese, one of macaroni, one of cheese, and so on, until your casserole dish is full. You may need to take breaks in order to stir the sauce as you layer, because it will begin to get hard if it is not in motion.
Next, pour the sauce over the layered macaroni and cheese. Pour slowly so that the dish does not overflow. Top with more cheese (more cheese? how is that possible?!) and pop in a 400º oven for 35 minutes, until the top is golden brown and bubbly.
Then, we eat. Yum.
We served this dish with lightly buttered green beans which were blanched in boiling water for about nine minutes, then dried in a hot frying pan. We added about a tablespoon of butter to the pan after the beans were dry, stirred it around with the beans, and added some pepper.

"Spicy" "Orecchiette" aka Not-So-Spicy-But-Still-Awesome Farfalle

2007-01-16T20:12:00.000-06:00

I've gotten into cooking a bit more lately, mostly because I have this divine new recipe source: the Bon Appetit Cookbook. It was a gift and came with a free year long subscription to the magazine, but we already have a subscription -- mysteriously, since no one will own up to purchasing it for us. It could easily be a "free offer" of some kind, but it's been delivered every month now like clockwork -- seems like a paid gift to me. Shouldn't they include a little note with that type of thing?

Yesterday, I made a "spicy" "orecchiette" with tomatoes, cannellini beans, and broccoli. It didn't turn out very spicy, and I couldn't find any orecchiette at either grocery store I went to, so I used farfalle instead. It was wonderful, and there was enough left over for lunch today for the both of us. I'm pleased to admit that he drank the small bit of remaining sauce straight from the container after the pasta itself had been consumed -- a good sign that it was a hit.

Not-So-Spicy-But-Still-Awesome Farfalle
Heat 2 tablespoons of olive oil in a heavy saucepan.
Add 1 cup diced onion
Saute until onion is clear and soft over medium heat, about five minutes.
Add 2 cloves minced garlic and 1 teaspoon of dried red pepper flakes.
Saute for another minute or so, until the pepper has infused the olive oil a bit.
Now, add 28 oz. of diced tomatoes -- the recipe says canned, but I did half and half (out of necessity, I admit, but it did taste great) and 1/4 cup of water.
Bring to a boil, then reduce heat to medium. Cook until sauce thickens, about ten minutes.
Meanwhile, boil a large pot of water for your pasta. When the water is boiling, throw in about two cups of dried pasta, preferably orecchiette. I used farfalle (also known as "little bow ties," at least when I was young) as I mentioned above. You should begin cooking the pasta when there are about seven minutes remaining on your sauce.
Cook pasta until it is almost al dente, but not quite, stirring occasionally so it doesn't stick. It should be quite firm to the bite. When you think there are about four minutes left for your pasta, add a few cups of uncooked broccoli florets. Tip: chop them up so that they are relatively bite sized; otherwise, they won't mesh well in the dish.
There should be about three minutes left on your clock now, so start corralling the diners while you add one 14 oz. can of rinsed cannellini beans and about 1/2 a cup of chopped fresh basil. Bring the heat on the sauce down to low.
Your pasta should be ready. Take about 1/2 a cup of the cooking liquid (which should be a nice green color) and stir it into the sauce. Drain the pasta and broccoli.
Add the pasta/broccoli combination to the saucepan and stir to coat.
Top with Parmesan cheese. I also recommend putting the dried pepper flakes on the table for extra topping, in case anyone dares to go spicier (which you should, in my opinion, but I like my spice).
Yell at everyone again to get to the table; dinner's ready.
You have yourself a meal. Serves two extremely hungry individuals for both dinner and lunch the next day (cold, which was just as delicious as it was hot). It would also serve four normal, non-ravenous individuals, with some left over.

I loved both making and eating this dish, mostly for it's high vegetable content. Coupled with the barely-there amount of fat, I feel really great about this pasta. I'm also slightly insane about my pasta sauce -- jarred just won't cut it, ever, and this sauce was so quick and easy that it wasn't a gigantic burden to make. Someday I'll share my recipe for authentic tomato sauce (but, like all good chefs, I promise to leave out a key ingredient so that the exact sauce cannot be properly reproduced anywhere but in my own kitchen) but I won't be making it for awhile, since tomatoes aren't in season right now and they're ridiculously expensive at the supermarket. I like to buy heirloom tomatoes during the summer straight from the farmer's market -- you can't beat the price, and they look and taste radically different than the ordinary supermarket tomato. Sorry, supermarket tomatoes, you're nice and all, but I find you... dull.

On that note, I'm off to fantasize about dinner tonight: homestyle macaroni and cheese from the American Heritage cookbook. This recipe dates back to 1803, so it must be good.