Stuff It

Like so many of my other recipes, I was initially drawn to this zesty one-pot meal because I already had almost everything I needed to make it. A run to the store for some chicken, kielbasa and a bell pepper, and I was good to go. The dish is also full of opportunities for substitution—throw in some zucchini if you need to use it up, swap chicken for shrimp (just don’t cook it as long) or trade the scallions for parsley (I used both because my parsley looked like its days were numbered).

Cooks Notes: I’ve found, after repeated makings, that the gravy usually needs to go a little longer than recommended to achieve the desired consistency, so don’t worry if you find yourself letting it simmer a few minutes more. Oh, and start slow when adding the hot sauce—you can always shake more over the finished dish but I’ve yet to find a way to subtract it once it’s in there.

Jambalaya Stuffing No-Bake Casserole
Serves 4.

1 baguette, cut into 1-inch cubes
1 tsp. herbs de Provence
2 tbsp. extra virgin olive oil
14 oz. turkey kielbasa cut into 1-inch pieces
1 lb. chicken tenders, cut into 1-inch pieces
1 green bell pepper, chopped
1 onion, chopped
4 ribs celery from the heart with leafy tops, chopped
½ c. white mushrooms, sliced
3 cloves garlic, finely chopped
3 c. chicken broth
2 tbsp. butter
2 tbsp. flour
¼ c. hot sauce
3 scallions, finely chopped
1 tsp. dried thyme
salt and pepper

Preheat the oven to 325 degrees. Scatter the bread on a baking sheet and season with the herbs de Provence. Toast until golden, about 10 to 12 minutes. Set aside.

In your largest nonstick skillet, heat 1 tablespoon of the oil over medium-high heat. Add the kielbasa and cook 2 minutes. Add the chicken and cook for 6 minutes. Season with salt and pepper and set aside.

In another, smaller skillet, heat the remaining tablespoon of oil over medium-high heat. Add the bell pepper, onion, mushrooms, celery and garlic, season with salt and pepper and cook until the vegetables are tender, about 7 minutes. Add the reserved bread cubes and vegetables to the chicken mixture and combine. Stir in 1 cup of the broth and turn the heat to low.

In the (now empty) vegetable skillet, melt the butter over medium heat. Whisk in the flour and cook for 1 minute. Whisk in the remaining 2 cups of broth and the hot sauce, season with salt, pepper and thyme and cook until the gravy is thickened, 3 to 4 minutes. To serve, pile the stuffing into shallow bowls and top with the gravy and scallions.

Souped Up

I really dislike throwing away leftovers, but the constant desire to create something new nags at me whenever I heat up last night’s dish. There have been a handful of times that I’ve turned Monday’s chicken into Tuesday’s casserole but it’s tricky (and can end up being more costly than intended) to reuse and recycle.

This was my conundrum as I faced down the remains of the delicious, guest-blog-recipe-provided Multi-tasking Risotto I made a few days ago. No doubt it would have been good reheated but I just wanted to do something… different with it. I felt like the words “beef barley soup” were coupled up in the part of my memory devoted to food (which I once estimated to take up 85% of my total memory capacity), so, inspired by that, I experimented with a meatless version. Not too shabby, if I do say so myself, even if the end result was more reminiscent of a cream of mushroom soup than a beef-barley soup. I only used what I had on hand for this, so if Sherry or tomato paste would mean a trip to the store for you, just skip them.

Risotto Remix
Serves 2.

2 tbsp. butter or extra virgin olive oil
½ c. sliced cremini mushrooms
splash of dry Sherry
leftovers from multi-tasking risotto (I had about ½ c.)
1 tsp. dried thyme
1 bay leaf
1 can (14 oz.) beef, chicken or vegetable stock
1/3 c. water
1 tbsp. tomato paste
¼ heavy cream or half-and-half
salt and freshly ground black pepper

In a medium saucepan, heat the butter or olive oil over medium heat. Add the mushrooms and sauté until softened and browned, about 5 minutes. Add the sherry and cook until almost all of the liquid has evaporated. Stir in the leftover risotto and sprinkle with thyme. Add the bay leaf and then pour in the stock and water. Stir to combine and continue stirring while adding tomato paste. Bring the pot to a boil, then lower heat and simmer, covered, about 15 minutes, stirring occasionally. Just before serving, stir in the cream and season to taste with salt and pepper.

My Personal Last Supper

By popular demand, I’m presenting an addendum to my post last week in which I reviewed the book My Last Supper. Feast your eyes on the details of my final repast.

The Setting: I’d like to go in late fall, when the last of the leaves are turning and it could snow any day, in a rambling old home perched on the rocks at the edge of the sea in Maine.

The Food: I think it goes without saying that I’m going to need a lot of cheese. I’ll start with a big wedge of brie de meaux served with hot baguette slices, followed by some 2-year Manchego and red seedless grapes, and then a generous helping of fresh chevre smeared on rosemary focaccia. After that, I’d like a cup of creamy lobster bisque, with a healthy hint of sherry. Next, I might enjoy a caprese salad (yes, more cheese) made with heirloom tomatoes, the ripest mozzarella di bufala and the most verdant basil available. For my main course, I’ll make it a hodgepodge: my mom’s squash casserole, a plate from a low-country boil (fresh gulf shrimp and crawfish with spicy corn and potatoes), roasted asparagus drizzled with garlic butter, a taste of spicy vegetable panang curry, a few bites of tempura Japanese bagel maki roll, a small piece of seared filet mignon (medium-well) with truffle butter, and, if I’m being honest, a crispy chicken taco loaded with lettuce, tomato, salsa and sour cream.

For dessert, I’d be loathe to leave this world without one last taste of vanilla bean crème brulee, made with the purest of vanilla beans and caramelized to a deep, golden crisp. Oh, a handful of sour gummi worms.

The Drink: I’m not a wine connoisseur by any means, but I’d love a glass each of Southern White and Red from the Lakeridge Winery. With dessert, just give me some good, semi-dry champagne. And if things get swinging at the after-party, I’d like a nice stiff margarita, extra salt on the rim, please.

The Music: Billy Joel will be crooning select songs from his vast and magnificent repertoire during the meal, and OutKast will get the crowd on its feet for some dancing afterward.

The Guests: Family and friends are all welcome but, if this is really it, I’d like a roundup of some of my favorite celebrities so that I may go out having had one final oogle. After dessert, let’s usher in: Gwyneth Paltrow, John Krasinski, Will Farrell, Gisele Bundchen, Helen Mirren, Paul Rudd, Amy Poehler, Ellen and Portia, Michael Cera, George Clooney, and Sarah Silverman. I’ll think we’ll have fun, no?

Let Them Eat (Someone Else’s) Cake

I won’t mince words—I’m no terrific baker. I can certainly follow package or recipe directions, but left to my own devices, I don’t know that I could produce a cake that would rise, much less be worthy of a blog entry.

So, I get a little help in the baking department. My go-to-gal? Martha Stewart (or, more accurately, the minions that create dishes in her name). When you have that many resources at your disposal, your recipes are almost guaranteed to be winners and this light, moist and satisfying-yet-not-overly-sweet cake is no exception. And, only five ingredients and minimal assembly is my idea of a dessert recipe worth sharing. Glad you’re out of the clink Martha!

Flourless Chocolate Cake
Serves 8.

6 tbsp. unsalted butter, plus more for greasing pan
1 ½ c. semisweet chocolate chips (or 8 ounces chopped bittersweet chocolate)
6 large eggs, yolks and white separated
½ c. granulated sugar
confectioners' sugar

Prep: Preheat oven to 275 degrees and butter a 9-inch springform pan.

Combine butter and chocolate in a large bowl and microwave in 30-second increments, stirring each time, until melted. Let cool slightly before whisking in egg yolks. In another bowl, beat the egg whites to soft peaks. Gradually add sugar; beating until peaks are stiff and glossy (this can take a while—use a hand mixer if your wrist tires easily). Whisk a few dollops of the whites into the chocolate mixture, then gently fold mixture into remaining whites.

Pour batter into prepared pan and smooth the top. Bake until cake pulls away from sides of pan and is just set in center, about 45 minutes. Cool completely on a wire rack before dusting with confectioners' sugar.

Guest Blogging- The Urbanite, Part II

There are a few reasons why I don’t have a file of comfort food recipes. One is that they usually take a lot of time, gadgets, or manual labor, which are in short supply for “the urbanite.” Another is that I don’t eat meat, which eliminates just about everything my southern grandma ever made. So I came up with this recipe as an amazing, stick-to-your-ribs, cold weather meal (or side dish, if you’re June Cleaver). It is not, however, a quick recipe, so plan accordingly.

There are a few appealing things about using barley instead of rice to make risotto. For one, it’s a whole grain, unlike white rice (brown rice risotto is a pipe dream—the outer grain of the rice will never break down). For another, it behaves itself better than rice, meaning you don’t have to stir it obsessively like normal risotto, which is how it got its name. If you are too lazy to make risotto, or just too busy to stand over the pan, this is a perfect risotto for you. This recipe will make 2-3 servings, more if it’s a side. One tip: Say no to nonstick! For this recipe, you want a little sticking, so you can get those delicious brown bits from the onion and the mushrooms. I use a ceramic pan but I think stainless or cast iron would work beautifully.

Multi-tasking Risotto

2 tbsp. butter or margarine
½ of a white onion, diced
2 cloves garlic, pressed (allows the garlic to spread through the dish better)
¾ c. barley (not the “quick cooking” kind)
4-5 c. vegetable stock
1 tbsp. dried herbs (thyme, sage, herbs de Provence or a bay leaf would be terrific)
1 c. cremini and shitake mushrooms, cleaned and sliced
sea salt and cracked pepper to taste
Parmesan cheese and/or pine nuts to garnish

Heat the stock until boiling, then turn off the heat and cover. Meanwhile, melt the margarine in a large pan over medium heat. Add the onions and herbs and sauté until soft. Then add the mushrooms and garlic and cook 1-2 minutes. Add the barley and stir to coat. Toast the barley for one minute, stirring constantly.

Risotto is all in the method: transfer one ladle of stock into the pan and stir until its completely absorbed. Keep going like that until you get a good amount of mushroom gravy in the pan, about 10 minutes. This will keep your barley from drying out when you take a break, which I promised you could do. From that point, you can just add a ladle of stock, stir, and leave it to cook for about five minutes at a time. When you come back, give it a stir and scrape up the good stuff on the bottom of the pan. As for the heat, its pretty important to get it right if you want those breaks. You don’t want a big sizzle when you add the stock, just a simmer. After 40 minutes the barley should be al dente. If its still crunchy and you’re out of stock, don’t panic. Just add ½ to 1 cup of water, stir, and let cook. You can keep doing this as long as it takes--but it shouldn’t be more than 55 minutes or 5 cups of liquid. The end result should be rich and creamy.

Add salt (taste it first because the stock can be very salty) and pepper and garnish with parmesan cheese and/or pine nuts. If you use margarine (I like Earth Balance) and soy parmesan, you’ve got yourself a Vegan-friendly meal.

Moroccan Than Not

Despite the dazzling array of ethnic eateries Atlanta has to offer, I’ve yet to find a spot for authentic Moroccan food (if any ATL readers know of one, I’d love the tip). Called the “culinary star of North Africa,” Morocco had the good fortune of being smack dab in the middle of the spice route, which left the country’s palate with plenty of Mediterranean and Asian influence, not to mention the “flavors” that remained after France and Spain finished jockeying for control of the country in the 20th century.

Unlike some other African cuisines that are more beef and lamb-leaning, I’ve found dozens of Moroccan recipes that star chicken and feature many of my favorite spices and ingredients—how can you go wrong combining ginger, cinnamon, and cumin with things like couscous, dried fruit, pistachios, lemon and pine nuts? Which leads me to…

My surplus of pine nuts. After discovering that they’re a ridiculous bargain at the DeKalb Farmer’s Market, I bought a big ol’ sack and got to work on some pesto. Mucho pesto consumption later, the pine nuts were still hanging around, so I decided to find a new recipe for them. A skim of one of my slow-cooker cookbooks led to the discovery of a Moroccan chicken stew. I made a few modifications to accommodate my tastes (and the contents of my pantry), so feel free to play around with this one yourself. Perhaps you can inject your own [insert country of your heritage] influence into modern Moroccan cuisine.

Moroccan Chicken Stew
Serves 2.

2 carrots, peeled and thinly sliced
1 onion, halved and thinly sliced
1.5 lb. boneless, skinless chicken pieces (breast halves, thighs or drumsticks)
1/4 c. dried cranberries*
1/3 c. dried apricots, coarsely chopped
8 oz. chicken broth
2 tbsp. tomato paste
1 tbsp. all-purpose flour
1 tbsp. lemon juice
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 tsp. ground cumin
1 tsp. ground ginger
1/2 tsp. ground cinnamon
pine nuts, toasted (optional)
prepared couscous, for serving
fresh cilantro (optional)*

Add carrots and onions to the slow cooker. Season chicken with salt and pepper and add to cooker. Sprinkle in the cranberries and apricots. In bowl, whisk together the broth, tomato paste, flour, lemon juice, garlic, cumin, ginger and cinnamon. Pour over the chicken and veggies. Cover and cook on low-heat setting for 6.5 to 7 hours or high-heat setting for 3.5 to 4 hours. Prepare couscous according to package directions. In a large bowl, spread the couscous and top with stew. Sprinkle pine nuts over the stew and garnish with cilantro.

*Side bar 1- The original recipe called for raisins, but I don’t care for raisins, so I used cranberries—delish.
*Side bar 2- I didn’t have any cilantro on hand, so I used some fresh flat-leaf parsley and it worked just fine.

Review- My Last Supper

Ever wondered what some of the world’s most famous chefs would enjoy for their last meal on earth? My Last Supper by Melanie Dunea attempts to shed some light on that topic, with interviews, photos and recipes from 50 notable chefs.

The meals range from the soul-satisfying (linguini with white clam sauce for Lidia Bastianich), to the pretentious (Michelle Bernstein lost my interest during her long-winded description of asparagus), to the gluttonous (oysters, caviar, ham, squab and pheasant for Jacques Pepin). Some wish to go out on a sweet note (Jamie Oliver would have rice pudding with roasted peaches), while others just want to wash everything down with a nice, stiff drink (Juan Mari Arzak would like nine different alcoholic beverages and a Coke, but no water. He hates water.). Tyler Florence objects to the concept of a last supper (“It’s not fair, frankly”) and only eventually concedes that he won’t be dining on any haute cuisine (“No fucking foie gras”), preferring instead the southern feast of his childhood—fried chicken, collards and black eyed peas. I knew I liked that guy.

As part of the interview, each chef was asked whom he or she would invite to the last supper and what music would play in the background. After careful consideration, I think I’d most like to be at Charlie Trotter’s last repast, dining alongside Hunter S. Thompson, Hemingway and F. Scott Fitzgerald while Miles Davis and Bob Dylan play together. Although, Daniel Boulud’s supper was a close second—Bacchus and Escoffier are coming, but Bono’s doing a solo (boo). And I don’t know that they’d agree to it, but if they did, I’d like to attend Angela Hartnett’s dinner, where Larry David and Jerry Seinfeld will be performing their stand-up together.

I particularly enjoyed the pictorials—they give a real sense of the chef’s personalities in the ways they’ve agreed to be immortalized. Mario Batali wears a vibrant headdress of turnip greens, while Anthony Bourdain strips down to nothing, holding only a strategically placed ham bone. Lydia Shire hoists up an impossible large lobster, and Neil Perry rests a fish in his lap that looks like it matches him, poundage-wise. But I must confess my bias for Wylie Dufresne’s shot, which combines wit with cheese. He’s stretched out on a table surrounded by stacks of Kraft singles—love it.

Here Comes the Sun (Dried Tomatoes)

For Christmas, my mom gave me the Bon Appetit Cookbook Desk Calendar, which I keep on my desk at work. Rarely does a day go by that I’m not distracted by the recipe du jour and lost in food-thought for about 30 minutes. The first featured dish I decided to try my hand at was a chicken and sun-dried tomato sauce concoction, chosen because I had a huge bunch of beautiful, fragrant fresh basil in the fridge (thank you DeKalb Farmer’s Market for selling such spectacular basil bouquets for a mere $0.99). The finished product earned an “it’s amazing… mmm, cream” from the bf, so here’s hoping that you’ll receive similar kudos if you give it a whirl.

Braised Chicken in Sun-Dried Tomato Cream

2 boneless, skinless chicken breasts
1 tbsp. oil from oil-packed sun dried tomatoes
3 cloves garlic, minced
½ c. dry white wine
1/3 c. heavy cream
¼ c. sun-dried tomatoes, thinly sliced
3 tbsp. fresh basil, sliced
salt and freshly ground black pepper

Heat the sun-dried tomato oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Season the chicken with salt and pepper and add to pan. Sauté 4 minutes on each side. Add the garlic and let cook for about 30 seconds (be careful not to brown it—it can get bitter). Add the wine, cream and sun-dried tomatoes and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat to medium low and cook, covered, about 4 minutes. Transfer the chicken to a serving plate. Return the skillet to the heat and add the basil. Raise the heat until the sauce boils and cook about 2 minutes. Season to taste with salt and pepper and spool sauce over chicken.

Serving Suggestions: I paired this dish with winter vegetable ratatouille and buttered rigatoni. For the veggies, I diced up what I had on hand (squash, broccoli, and an onion) and tossed them in olive oil, salt and pepper on a baking sheet, which I popped in the oven at 375 for about 15 minutes. Then I tossed in some cherry tomatoes (leave them whole) and cooked another 10 minutes, until the tomatoes burst. I sprinkled on a little basil right before serving. The rigatoni I just tossed with butter, garlic salt and grated Parmesan. I made a bed for the chicken with the rigatoni, so plenty of the sauce dripped down and gave it some extra flavor.

Fan Fare

I’m not ashamed to admit it—I love Rachel Ray. I love that she’s not a formally trained chef, I love that she makes 30-minute meals and I love that she’s nosy enough to include a feature in her monthly magazine that looks into celebrity’s refrigerators (Kristin Chenoweth’s is the best to date). I watch her shows, I subscribe to her magazine, I own several of her cookbooks. What of it?

I’ll tell you what—she delivers consistently delicious recipes than win me rave reviews at home. Either her test kitchens are religious in their QA process or I am oddly adept at choosing only the best ones to make. Say what you will about her personality (and I’m sure there’s plenty to be said), her staff is spot-on when it comes to perfecting dishes. In the March issue of EDWRR, I found a new, yum-o soup that was simple and hearty—just what I was looking for on an unusually cold February night. Served with garlic bread basted with basil butter, this one-pot meal was reminiscent of both a chowder thanks to the dry sherry (this is one time I’m advising you not to skip an optional ingredient), and of a dumpling soup thanks to the gooey gnocchi. Score another one for Rach.

Chicken and Leek Soup with Gnocchi
Recipe courtesy of Every Day with Rachel Ray, March 2008.

Serves 4.

2 tbsp. EVOO
3 leeks, rinsed, white and light green parts sliced length-wise, then crosswise into
thin slices
4 celery hearts, cleaned and sliced thinly
½ white onion, sliced thinly
1 bay leaf
32 oz. chicken stock
2 c. heavy cream
1 lb. chicken tenders, cut into 1 inch pieces
1 package fresh or frozen (thawed) gnocchi, 12-16 oz.
3 tbsp. dry sherry, optional
1 tsp. smoked paprika
handful of fresh parsley, coarsely chopped
salt and freshly ground black pepper

Heat olive oil in a Dutch oven or large soup pot over medium heat. Add the leeks, celery, onion and bay leaf and cook until softened, 5-7 minutes. Add the chicken stock and bring to a boil. Lower heat and stir in cream. Return the soup to a bare simmer. Add the chicken, gnocchi, sherry and paprika and simmer until chicken is cooked through, about 5 minutes. Season to taste with salt and pepper and sprinkle with parsley before serving.

Woodfire Grill- The Review

When you’re the girlfriend of a thespian, you accept that you’ll be without him most evenings, all weekends, and always on Valentine’s Day (a prime night for theatre-goers looking for romance delivered via the full-text version of Romeo and Juliet).

So, this year we opted to celebrate cupid a few nights early at Woodfire Grill. Helmed by chef Michael Tuohy, Woodfire emerged as an Atlanta standout in the local/organic/seasonal foods movement not long after its 2002 opening. Despite it’s proximity to strip clubs and adult video stores on Cheshire Bridge Rd., Woodfire’s interior immediately takes you to a cozy, California wine-country cottage, with a blazing open hearth and antiqued wooden benches. Candle and torch light illuminate the intimate main dining room, while several private rooms with curtains drawn and an upstairs loft (used, I was told, for special events) frame the space.

The menu has undergone some recent changes and our server explained that the “small plates” are now larger than before. Well, some of them. Out starter of prosciutto di parma and bra tenero with shaved fennel, olives and arugula featured three, extra-thin slices of the pork and four dots of the piquant and creamy bra tenero cheese. Tasty, but tiny. Also, the fennel was mysteriously absent… Hugely different (and I do mean hugely), was a fritto misto of calamari, white fish and shrimp (which was unlisted but a very happy surprise). The hefty dish came with a bland aioli on the side and flash fried slivers of onion, lemon (that pared particularly well with the seafood) and capers. I made a mental note to look into this fried lemon concept further.

Getting full, we pressed on to the main course, opting for two large plates instead of several more small ones. The wood-grilled free-range chicken was just as I remembered—impossibly juicy with crispy, flavorful skin that there is never enough of. Accompanied by steel pan greens and a mild salsa verde, this dish was both healthful and filling. My date’s wood-grilled ribeye (locally procured) with fingerling potatoes and black truffle butter had a high and a low point. High—the butter that melted down over the seared crust of the meat, infusing it with a surprisingly light truffle flavor that enhanced the beef without overwhelming it. Low—the ribeye itself came out barely room temperature. Strange, given that the restaurant wasn’t even half full and our table was with in eyesight of the wood burning grill. The date commented that the potatoes were nice but nothing special until they too met that magical truffle butter.

In both of my visits to Woodfire Grill, the service (from the valet to the host to the wait staff) has been attentive, friendly and spotlessly professional. Even on a crowded night, you’ll feel as though every employee is aware of your presence and is aiming to please. It would almost be eerie if it wasn’t such a refreshing change from the “you need us more than we need you” attitude that seems to be a trend in upscale restaurants. Woodfire Grill offers not only happy-to-serve staff, but also local and organic food you can feel good about eating (and not terrible about paying for). Book it for a date night now.

Je Suis Français

Ou pas. But I am a total Francophile, thanks to some Swiss family members and a French pre-school teacher that wasted no time in teaching me my un, deux, trois. I confess that I’ve enjoyed French cuisine only a handful of times over the years, due primarily to a lack of availability in the south (although, sadly, this seems to be the case in most American cities) and lack of a budget for flying to France on a regular basis.

So it is primarily out of necessity that I’ve mastered a few traditional recipes—I can whip up a cheesy fondue, bake a sink-proof soufle, whisk together a rich béchamel and I shouldn’t have to tell you about my deep and meaningful relationship with crème brulee. But only once in college had I attempted soupe a l'oignon before (that’s what you’d call onion soup if you were in France—you don’t have to say “French,” because, you know… you’re in France). I recently decided to take a second stab at it because of the discovery of a recipe in one of my slow-cooker cookbooks that made it sound terribly easy, and I’m happy to report that it was not only easy but delicious to boot.

My only point of contention with the recipe was that it called for “Swiss” cheese. Gruyère or Emmentaler are much preferable to me, and Gruyère should be procurable in almost any supermarket. I also like a nice Appenzeller, but that may be harder to come by. If you must use Swiss, please, I beg of you, don’t buy the Kraft singles version.

Onion Soup
Serves 4.

2 tbsp. butter
1 ½ lbs. yellow onions, sliced*
½ tbsp. sugar
2 tbsp. dry white wine
4 c. beef broth
freshly ground black pepper to taste
6 slices of baguette, toasted and cut into bite-sized pieces
½ c. shredded Gruyère, Emmentaler or Appenzeller

In a large skillet, melt butter over medium heat. Add onions and cook until they’re limp and transparent, but not browned, about 10 minutes. Sprinkle the sugar over onions and continue to cook, stirring, until onions are caramelized, 8-10 minutes. Transfer onions to slow cooker. To deglaze pan, add wine and return to medium heat. Scrape up any browned bits with a wooden spoon and add them to the slow cooker along with the broth. Season to taste with pepper. Cover and cook on high for 6 hours or low for 8 hours.

When ready to serve, preheat broiler. Divide soup evenly into four individual (oven-safe) bowls and top equally with toasted pieces of baguette and shredded cheese. Place soup bowls on a baking sheet and broil until cheese is melted and bubbly, about 5 minutes.

*Side bar- I guess it’s kind of an anachronism, but Vidalia onions work really well.

Guest Blogging- The Urbanite

It’s fair to describe me as the sort of person who can’t sit still. I cultivate chaos the way others might tend to a rose garden or a “human relationship.” Because of my life’s frenzied pace, and because I am a great believer in cooking as little as possible, I often find myself eking out an existence solely on fruit salads, beans and rice, and the occasional appetizer. So when I invited myself—perhaps foolishly—to guest blog for my dear friend Carolyn,* I panicked when I realized that I had nothing to share with you that a five year old couldn’t make. Fortunately, I was assured that other people also have frenzied lives and wish to spend as much energy cooking as they do reading Perez Hilton. So, here are my two favorite, 3-minute meals.

Black Bean Dip
If you’re like me and you’ll eat this for dinner it should feed you twice. For a party, I would double the recipe.

1 tbsp. extra virgin olive oil
¼ of a small white onion (about 2 tbsp., chopped)
1 clove garlic, chopped
1 can black beans, drained and rinsed
2-3 tsp. sour cream or plain yogurt
½ tsp. cumin
sea salt and cayenne pepper, to taste (Tabasco also works well)
4 oz. Monterrey Jack cheese (about ¼ of a cup when shredded)
squeeze lime juice
chopped scallions, red onion, cilantro, or parsley for garnish

Sweat onion and garlic in olive oil over medium heat until translucent. Add the black beans, sour cream, cumin and cayenne and mix well (don’t be a baby about the cayenne—it wont hurt you and it’ the salvation of this pot of beans). Bend with an immersion blender to the consistency of chunky salsa (a potato masher works well if you’re Amish). Turn the heat to low, add the cheese and stir to melt. Taste and adjust for salt and spice.

If it’s too thin, add more cheese or a tbsp. of cream cheese. If it’s too thick, add more sour cream or yogurt, or a few spoonfuls of warm water or vegetable stock. Add the lime juice last, after you have taken the dip off the heat. It will thicken as it cools; that said, this grey-ish, chunky-ish dip is hardly a Van Gogh, so be sure to put some care in the garnishing. Serve warm with tortilla chips.

Cannellini Beanie Dip

1 can cannellini or white kidney beans
2 cloves garlic
1-2 tbsp. olive oil
lemon juice
sea salt and black pepper
1 tsp. herbs de Provence

Mix all ingredients in a food processor until blended. Serve with toasted ciabatta bread or on crackers.

Variation: This is also a great base for a modified white “pizza.” If you’re so inclined, spread onto already-baked thin pizza crust (I would blind bake the crust; you don’t want to cook this spread or it will dry out), add roasted eggplant, sundried tomatoes, artichoke hearts, fresh basil, or maybe chicken or anchovies if you are an omnivore. Drizzle the whole thing with a bit of olive oil. Heat under a broiler for a minute or so, then top with shavings of (fresh) parmesan.

*Side bar from the editor- I had to practically beg my dear friend to contribute these recipes. Don’t let her fool you, the woman knows her way around a bean.

BBQ Rx

After the seemingly endless stretch of Meat Week from January into February, I decided it was time to take stock of the meals I enjoyed. I sampled some truly delicious pinto beans, crunched down on some freshly fried okra and savored a crispy and saucy chicken down to the bone. I did not, however, have the chance to explore any vegetarian barbeque options as I had hoped to. I decided that this was something that must be remedied, and fast. But I needed to do some research…

It became immediately apparent that the meat replacement I should be working with was seitan (say-Tahn). While barbequed tofu certainly has its place, seitan has more of a meat-like texture, a little chewier and stringy which, in this case, is a good thing. Seitan is basically wheat gluten, made by washing wheat flour dough with water until all the starch dissolves, leaving the insoluble gluten as a gummy mass. I promise you that the end result (i.e.- cooked and flavored seitan) is much more appetizing than the above description would lead you to believe.

Now, I realize that I’m venturing into potentially unfriendly waters here because people are serious about their barbeque, but I don’t intend for this mock-meat recipe to make a case against any of your traditions (although the accompanying, traditional slaw recipe is excellent with mock and real barbeques alike). Rather, I hope that if you ever find yourself in need of a meat-ternative as I did, you’ll give it a shot. And then you can go back to your baby back ribs.

Pulled “Pork” BBQ Sandwiches
Makes 4 sandwiches.

4 kaiser rolls, split
2 tbsp. butter, divided
10 oz. seitan
1 medium onion, sliced
½ c. barbeque sauce
1 tbsp. soy sauce
1 tbsp. apple cider vinegar
salt and pepper
hot sauce (optional)

Drain seitan on paper towels and blot off any extra liquid. Using a very sharp knife, shred the seitan into bite-sized pieces.

In a large skillet, melt 1 tbsp. of butter. Add onion and cook until translucent, about 6-7 minutes. Add the seitan, barbeque sauce, soy sauce, vinegar and hot sauce (if using) to taste. Simmer for about 10-15 minutes, or until sauce is thickened. Season with salt and pepper.

In a toaster oven or under the broiler, toast the rolls until just browned. Spread with remaining 1 tbsp. of butter, then top with seitan mixture and slaw. Serve immediately.

Classic Southern Slaw
Enough to top 4 sandwiches.

6 oz. bagged slaw mix
½ c. mayonnaise
3 tbsp. sour cream
2 tsp. apple cider vinegar
2 tsp. honey
1 tsp. sugar
½ tsp. ground mustard
½ tsp. celery salt
1 tbsp. chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley
salt and freshly ground black pepper

In a medium bowl, whisk together all ingredients except the slaw mix. Add the slaw mix and toss to combine. Adjust seasonings to taste. Refrigerate 30 minutes before serving.

Souper Tuesday

I take my civic duty to vote almost as seriously as I take my food, so, in honor of Super Tuesday, I’m sharing my favorite super (and super quick in order to hasten your return to the election coverage on TV) tomato basil soup. It’s a one-pot wonder of comfort and cream that you actually don’t have to feel that bad about returning to for seconds. While the soup can serve as your primary (ha- see what I did there?) meal, it’d also be great enjoyed with Manchego grilled cheese sandwiches or an easy arugula salad.

Creamy Tomato Basil Soup

2 tbsp. butter
1 medium onion, chopped
1 small carrot, peeled and finely diced
2 tbsp. flour
28 oz. crushed tomatoes
2 c. chicken broth or stock
1 tbsp. tomato paste
2 tbsp. chiffonade of fresh basil leaves
1 bay leaf
1 c. light cream or half and half
salt and pepper

In a large medium saucepan, melt butter over medium heat. Add the onion and carrot and cook, stirring frequently, 3 to 5 minutes. Add the flour and continue cooking, stirring constantly, 1 to 2 minutes (don’t allow the flour to get dark). Add the tomatoes, broth, tomato paste, basil and bay leaf. Bring to a boil, then reduce the heat to low, and simmer, covered, for 15 minutes. Remove the pan from the heat and discard the bay leaf.

With your immersion blender (or in a food processor), puree the soup until smooth. Stir in cream and season to taste with salt and pepper. Return to heat and simmer until heated through. Serve immediately.

Guest Blogging- The Beginning

I consider myself very fortunate to be surrounded with good friends and family that share in my appreciation of food (or at least appreciate my food enough to eat it without complaint), and who also have been very supportive of my efforts here at Fresh Parmesan (hi mom). It’s been a lot of fun thus far sharing my recipes, ideas, food-obsessions, cheese picks and the like with all of you and I hope I’ve inspired at least a few of you to get into the kitchen and try new things this year.

So, it’s thanks to your support that I announce the creation of my Guest Blogging series. From time to time, and starting later this week, I’ll be featuring recipes authored and/or recommended by FOFP (Friends of Fresh Parm), who, I’m happy to note, come from all walks of life and have widely varying degrees of culinary prowess. I’d like to extend an open invitation to any of my readers who wish to contribute to please do so; your recipes can be simple or challenging, quick-fix or all-dayers; veggie or meaty; original or borrowed—basically anything that you enjoy eating, I’d enjoy giving a spot on the blog to. Don’t for a second question if your idea is “gourmet” enough—please reference my Forgot-to-go-to-the-Grocery-Store Black Bean Soup if you think I’m harboring any grand culinary pretensions—because all recipes are welcome here.*

What do you say, readers? Are you game? Are you hungry? Do you want your 15-pageloads of fame? Send ‘em in!

*Side bar- Except for anything with bananas. I’ll reject all banana recipes flat out.

COW- Cheese of the Week

This weeks COW is our first foray into sheep’s milk cheeses. “Pecorino” by itself is a general term for any sheep’s milk cheese made in Italy. Two D.O.C. varieties, Romano (Sardinia) and Toscano (Tuscany), are pretty widely available in U.S. cheese shops or gourmet markets. Pecorinos are, in general, oily cheeses because sheep’s milk contains a very high percentage of butterfat. There are some Pecorino knockoffs sold that blend sheep and cow’s milk and they’re almost always less flavorful than the real thing.

My favorite Pecorino variety is Pecorino al Ginepro (Italian for “juniper”). The rind is washed in a mixture of the juice of juniper berries and sometimes a local red wine, resulting in a beautiful tint that stains the edges of the cheese when sliced. With a very firm texture and rich sweet/nutty flavor, Pecorino al Ginepro is perfect for not only pairing with wines and fruits, but also incorporating into other dishes.

Try it…
Shaved over a sauté of porcini mushrooms
Sliced thickly with salami and prosciutto
Grated over the topping of a casserole
Sprinkled into minestrone (or any hearty vegetable) soup
Melted onto crusty bread with roasted red peppers

Retro Refrieds

When I was in elementary school, I went through a phase of giving myself manicures and pedicures on a regular basis. I can only imagine that the results were terrible, but the whole process made me feel very grown up, very “lady who lunches” (even though my lunches were closer to fried cheese sticks than foie gras). One day, I had a friend over for manicure time. She was preparing the bowl of hot, soapy water for us to soak our nails in, but, unable to get the water sufficiently hot from the tap, she suggested we “nuke” it. I panicked—I didn’t know what “nuke” meant but I certainly couldn’t let her know that! I think I tried to stall, maybe mumbled something about not being sure if we had a “nuker,” and waited for her to give a further clue as to the identity of this mysterious device. Eventually, the “nuker” was revealed to be the microwave and I made a mental note to use my cool, new terminology whenever possible.

Although I don’t often use the nuker when cooking today, its use seems ironically appropriate in this, my old-school Bean Pie recipe. Thanks for the vocab lesson Jo!

Bean Pie

1 can of refried beans
2 tsp. chili powder
1/3 c. of your favorite jarred salsa
3 tbsp. green olives, pitted and chopped
1 c. shredded cheddar or Monterey jack cheese
4 oz. sour cream
4 oz. cream cheese, softened in the nuker
1 tbsp. fresh cilantro, chopped
Tortilla chips for dipping

In a glass pie pan, spread the refried beans evenly along the bottom. Sprinkle the chili powder on top and nuke for 1 minute on high. Stir the beans and then top with the salsa, olives and cheese. Nuke on high 2 minutes, or until the cheese is slightly melted.

In a small bowl, combine the sour cream and cream cheese. Spread the mixture over the cheese layer and sprinkle the cilantro on top. Serve with chips.