Foodie Word- Rocket

I first came across rocket while studying in London. One of my favorite haunts was a U.K. based chain called Prêt a Manger. Think of a Panera or Atlanta Bread Company, but featuring sandwiches with more interesting, higher quality ingredients that are ready to grab and go. There was a vegetarian sandwich that I wanted to try, but listed on the package as an ingredient was something identified as “rocket.” There didn’t appear to be any spaceships on the sandwich, but closer inspection would have been impossible without unwrapping, which I think would have been frowned upon pre-purchase. So, I decided to take my chances. Imagine my surprise when I bit into delicious, peppery arugula on my selection!

Yep, that’s the vocab surprise—rocket is just another name for arugula, the bright, mustardy green that I’ve noticed has been appearing more and more on American restaurant menus as of late. Arugula is delightfully versatile—top a sandwich, Prêt style; stir in into a soup; sauté it with some garlic; toss up a simple, zesty salad. If you’re sick of spinach or think mesclun greens are just meh, take arugula out for a spin (I hear she puts out… great flavor).

Absurdly Easy Arugula Salad

2 bunches arugula (or about 12 oz.), washed, dried and torn into bite-sized pieces*
1/4 c. extra-virgin olive oil
1/2 lemon, juiced
salt and pepper
Hunk of Parmesan cheese (not fresh)

In a salad bowl, drizzle the arugula with the oil, squeeze on the lemon juice and season to taste with salt and pepper. Toss until well mixed. Using a vegetable peeler, shave thin pieces of Parmesan over the top. Serve immediately.

*Side bar- Lots of grocery stores are now carrying pre-washed baby arugula that would be perfect in this salad—look at the bottom of the rows of bagged salad greens.

Loco for Cocoa

On a cold midwinter’s night, is there any cup more comforting than a cup full of hot chocolate? (I guess possibly a big mug of Southern Comfort, but that’s a topic for another post.) I’m not talking about that powdered junk that you mix with water—I’m talking rich, steaming, genuinely chocolate-y cocoa that makes your whole house smell delicious. And it’s easy! Seriously, once you’ve tried this recipe and tasted the fruits of your less-than-15-minute labor, you’ll be a convert.

Hot Chocolate
Makes 4 mugs-worth.

3 c. whole or 2% milk
1 c. half-and-half
1 cinnamon stick
1/4 c. plus 1 tbsp. unsweetened cocoa powder
1/2 c. sugar
1/4 tsp. cinnamon
1/4 tsp. vanilla extract
whipped cream for topping (optional)

Pour milk and half-and-half into a small pot and add the cinnamon stick. Heat to a bare simmer over medium heat.

In a small bowl, mix together the cocoa powder, sugar, and cinnamon. A few teaspoons at a time, stir the hot milk into the cocoa mixture to make a smooth paste. Scrape the cocoa paste mixture into the saucepan with the milk and simmer 2 minutes, without boiling. Stir in the vanilla and remove from heat.

Pour into mugs and top with the cream you whipped up in your immersion blender (or the canned stuff).

Rolling Bones BBQ- The Review

Last night, we found ourselves downtown at destination #2 of Meat Week ’08: Rolling Bones Premium Pit BBQ. Squeezed in amongst historic homes and unidentifiable small business on a not-yet-gentrified stretch of Edgewood Ave., Rolling Bones is housed in what appears to be an old gas station (much like Taqueria del Sol’s Decatur outpost). By the time the 20 or so Meat Weekers had piled in, we’d taken not only the best seats, but every seat in the joint.

I’d like to say up front that, if this were a proper restaurant review, I would have tried several more of the meats and sides. However, this reviewer had to cough up her own cash to enjoy said BBQ, so this write-up is just a small taste of what Rolling Bones has to offer.

I started with a quarter, white meat chicken (in the mild sauce), fries and pinto beans. The chicken was a study in tenderness clichés: falling off the bone, sliceable with a plastic fork, so moist and juicy I could have mistaken it for a chicken sponge cake (ew). The skin was cooked to a perfect crisp and, despite the whole portion swimming in a sweet, smoky sauce, held up admirably to the very last bite, with not a trace of sogginess. The fries were pretty standard (I would have enjoyed the option of smothering them in cheese), but the beans were a big winner. The broth around them held little flecks of pork and was thick and rich enough to call the dish a stew. I also sampled a few slices of the brisket, which were comparably tender but also had a lot more charring around the edges than the chicken. I love char, but if it’s not for you, consider yourself warned. The collard greens were swimming in good, salty broth, but needed some vinegar to liven things up.

A fellow Meat Weeker was generous enough to let me sample from his mammoth plate of riblets, which were a little on the fatty side, but full of the same addictively smoky flavor as the brisket. The only real loser was the potato salad, with a blend of undercooked spud chunks and tiny bits of onion and celery in a thin, overly mustard-y dressing.

On the whole (hog), our visit to Rolling Bones was great success, major event! Once the Meat Week haze has passed, you can bet you’ll find me exiting the drive through (did I not mention that all of this can be yours—to go!?), sauce dripping down my chin as I nibble a few furtive, juicy bites on the way home.

Break On Through to the Other Side

If crème brûlée isn’t the most enjoyable dessert to make and eat, then I don’t know what is. Unlike other treats that are out of sight when the fun happens (it’s pretty tedious to sit in front of the oven to watch a cake rise and darn near impossible to see ice cream set up in the freezer), crème brûlée gives you the chance to view, up close and personal, a chemical reaction.* And you get to use a blow torch.

From your basic vanilla bean to the exotic passion fruit and ginger, I’ve tried dozens of varieties of crème brûlée, but the one I enjoy the most is pumpkin. With delicate hints of spice and a creamy, luxurious interior, it’s the perfect January anecdote to those pesky New Years diet resolutions.

*Side note- To learn more than you need to know about the stages of caramelization, check out Table 1.

Pumpkin Crème Brûlée
Serves 4.

1 c. heavy cream
2 tbsp. light brown sugar
2 tbsp. white sugar, plus 4 tsp. reserved
4 large egg yolks
1/4 tsp. vanilla extract
1/4 tsp. ground cinnamon
1/8 tsp. ground nutmeg
1/8 tsp. ginger powder
1/8 tsp. allspice
1/2 c. mashed, cooked pumpkin

Preheat the oven to 325 degrees.

Arrange 4, 4-6 oz. ramekins or custard cups in a large metal baking pan. In a medium saucepan over medium-high heat, combine the cream, brown sugar, and white sugar. Bring to a bare simmer, stirring to dissolve the sugar. Remove from the heat and set aside.

In a medium bowl, whisk the egg yolks until they’re frothy and lemon-colored. Slowly add 1/4 cup of the hot cream mixture, whisking constantly. Transfer the egg mixture to the remaining hot cream, and whisk. Add the vanilla, cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger and pumpkin, and continue whisking until smooth. Strain the mixture through a fine mesh strainer into a large bowl and then divide among the ramekins.

Add enough hot water to come halfway up the sides of the ramekins in the pan. Bake until they’re just set (the center should jiggle slightly when the cup is tapped), about 45 to 55 minutes. Remove from the oven and cool slightly before covering with aluminum foil. Refrigerate until well chilled, at least 4 hours or overnight.

When ready to serve, sprinkle the top of each ramekin with 1 teaspoon of the remaining sugar, twirling the ramekin around in your hand to distribute the sugar evenly. Using a kitchen torch, caramelize the sugar and serve immediately.

Meet Me at the Meat

It’s the last week of January. You’re sick of work (careful-don’t want to burn through those vacation days too early); there’s still one more weekend until the Super Bowl; the writer’s strike has made TV virtually unwatchable (turn off the Top Model—turn it off now); you’ve already abandoned your “eat organic” New Year’s resolution. What to do?

Luckily for you, this Sunday, January 27th begins the Holiday that Time Forgot™: Meat Week. For the next 8 glorious nights, you are cordially invited to feast like you’ve never feasted before. To eat more meat than you thought humanly possible. To bond with complete strangers over buckets of barbeque sauce and piles of pork. It’s here, it’s dirty, it’s delicious. And, unless you’re suffering from a massive post-Australia Day hangover this Sunday, there’s absolutely no excuse not to get your meat on.

If there are any doubters out there, you can see for yourself that Meat Week is Real.

Dine-In Take-Out

There’s a restaurant across from my building that does down-and-dirty Asian-fusion style take-out. It’s cheap, it’s fast, it’s greasy—god, it’s good. For a long time, I was a regular caller on Thursday nights: “One miso soup, one hot and sour soup, General Zao’s chicken, Masaman curry and an order of crab rangoon.” Yep, they know me.

But, thanks in equal parts to needing fodder for the blog and my fear of never being able to get the smell of curry out of my apartment, I decided to scale back a bit on my take-out habit. It was fortuitous timing then that a certain London-based restaurant cookbook came to me earlier this month, giving me 130+ pages of reasons to take my to-go’s in house. Though, pat on back, the egg drop soup recipe is of my own creation.

Wagamama's Yaki-Soba
Serves 3-4.

4 ounces soba or ramen noodles
2 tbsp. tamari, dark soy sauce
1 sm. onion, thinly sliced
4 scallions, trimmed and thinly sliced
large handful of bean sprouts
2 tbsp. vegetable oil
2 boneless, skinless chicken breasts, cut into thin strips
1 red bell pepper, seeded and cubed
2 eggs, beaten
2 tbsp. pickled ginger
1 tsp. sesame seeds, toasted
1 tbsp. dried shallots*

Bring a medium pot of water to a boil and add the noodles. Cook about 3-4 minutes, or until just tender. Drain and rinse under cold running water. In a large bowl, combine the tamari, onion, scallions and bean sprouts and mix the noodles in gently.

Heat a wok over high heat for 1-2 minutes and then add the oil. Add the chicken and bell pepper and cook 2 minutes. Add the noodles and vegetables and cook 3 minutes more. Add in the eggs and continue to stir-fry for another 2 minutes, until the eggs are set. Serve garnished with the pickled ginger, sesame seeds and dried shallots.

*Side bar- I couldn’t find dried shallots the week I made this dish, so they’re perfectly fine to skip or, if you need a crunch, replace with crispy rice noodles sprinkled on top.

Egg Drop Soup
Serves 4.

6 c. chicken stock
1/2 c green onions, thinly sliced
1/3 c. chiffonade spinach leaves
1 ½ tsp. soy sauce
2 grinds of black pepper
2 large eggs, lightly beaten

In a small saucepan, bring the stock to a simmer over medium high heat. Stir in the green onions, spinach, soy sauce and pepper. Return to a simmer and cook for 3 minutes. Stirring with a fork in one direction, slowly add the eggs in a steady stream. Continue stirring and cook until the eggs are set, about, 1 minute. Ladle into bowls and serve immediately.

Immerse Yourself

About three years ago, I decided that my culinary cabinet could not be called well-stocked until it contained an immersion blender. To be honest, I don’t think I really had specific plans for putting this gadget to use, but I had seen Sarah Moulton whipping up some cream with hers and it just seemed so delightfully old-fashioned that I couldn’t resist. I figured I would, at the very least, start using it for that purpose and then shun those compressed cans of “whipped dairy topping” at the grocery store. (In actuality, I ended up using it for about a dozen other things before I got around to whipping my own cream.*)

My Cuisinart Immersion Blender is easily the most versatile and frequently used kitchen gadget I own. The recipe for Corn and Kielbasa Chowder I just posted? Used the blender. The lemon filling for the Strawberry-Blueberry Compote over Lemon Tartlets was whipped up with the whisk attachment. Forgot-to-go-to-the-Grocery-Store Black Bean Soup was pureed to just the right chunky consistency with it.

You get the picture—the thing is useful. Mine also came with a bowl attachment that turns it into a mini food processor and I’ve found it to be the perfect size for combining a batch of guacamole or pesto. The possibilities for using this wünder-tool are limitless and I’d love to hear from any readers that have a recipe they make using their blenders. Anyone care to share?

*Side bar- And I really do whip up my own cream pretty frequently, but I still can’t seem to break the habit of impulsively buying a can of the faux stuff whenever ice cream social night rolls around.

Practically Polish

Growing up in Lakeland, we had approximately three choices for dining out: 1) Italian; 2) Tex-Mex; and 3) Crispers. At no point did anything as exotic as Polish food enter into the equation (I don’t know how Lakeland’s Jewish population would have felt about pierogies creeping in on their latke market).

It wasn’t until college that I even met someone who identified himself as Polish, much less someone who expressed an interest in eating Polish food. I did some research: kielbasa (I don’t eat sausage), pickled herring (the only thing pickled I eat are, well, pickles), sauerkraut (sour cream, yes; kraut, no), minced meat-stuffed cabbage (what did cabbage ever do to the Polish?). This wasn’t looking good.

Then, lo and behold, I discovered that my friendly neighborhood grocer carries turkey kielbasa! This, I could work with. I started slow—I diced in up, sautéed it with butter and garlic and then added it to a black bean soup. And then I proceeded to pick all of it out of my bowl while my darling Pollock lapped it right up. Right, I’d try again. The next few attempts went somewhat the same way, but eventually, I conquered my sausage phobia and embraced (very lightly, maybe with only one arm) (some) Polish food.

Corn and Kielbasa Chowder

Serves 4.

Extra virgin olive oil
1 kielbasa link (7-8 oz.) halved and thinly sliced
1 tbsp. butter
1 small onion, finely chopped
2 cloves garlic, diced and mashed into a paste with salt
16 oz. chicken stock
3 small red potatoes (about 1 lb.), peeled and cut into ½ inch cubes
1 c. half and half
1 lb. bag frozen corn, thawed
2 tbsp. fresh cilantro, chopped
½ tsp. cumin
2 tsp. red pepper flakes
salt and pepper

Heat a large soup pan over medium-high heat. Add 3 turns of the pot of olive oil and the kielbasa and cook until lightly browned, about 6 minutes. Transfer to a plate. Add the butter to the pot, then the onions. Sauté about 4 minutes, then add garlic and sauté 2 minutes more. Add the stock and diced potato and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat to low and simmer, covered, about 10 minutes or until the potato is fork tender. Add the half and half, corn and cilantro and stir to combine. Add the red pepper flakes, cumin and salt and pepper to taste. Using a food processor or an immersion blender, puree the chowder until about half of the potato has broken up. Return the kielbasa to the pot and heat through. Adjust salt and pepper. Serve with more cilantro sprinkled on top.

Doppelganger Dairy?

It's official: the FDA has ruled that meat and milk from cloned animals is safe for human consumption. So safe, in fact, that companies don't even need to label which of their products contain cloned materials. Wait, let's back up on that one.

The FDA required food manufacturers to label all products containing trans fatty acids in 2003. In 2005, they required soft drink manufacturers to be more specific in their labeling of sweeteners. But in 2008, they determined that there was no real reason people should be privy to their consumption of cloned animal products?!

I’m all for scientific advances and I think it’s probably a good thing that we’re making strides in genetic engineering, hopefully also in areas of interest to human health (you know, curing diseases, saving babies, all that stuff). But I’m also all for freedom of information and consumer rights, and the fact that these liberties have taken a big hit in the name of “progress” doesn’t sit well with me.

The ruling also smacks of cloning companies like Viagen and Trans Ova Genetics being tucked snuggly in the pocket of our government, which is disturbing, to say the very, very least. Why not give consumers the ability to choose what they’re eating? Who, but those companies, stands to suffer if the public is informed? Who is our government really protecting with this ruling?

To read more on the subject and find out what you can do to take a stand, visit the Center for Food Safety. Also, check out this post by someone who's all too familiar with the dirty dealings of the FDA.

COW- Cheese of the Week

Confession: I’ve never been much of a blue cheese lover. Even after a few months as a cheese monger, I only discovered a handful of varieties I enjoyed, and, out of those, only one that I’d happily eat on it’s own.

Roaring 40’s Blue is from King’s Island Dairy in Australia and easily stands out in a sea of sameness with its striking midnight blue rind. It takes its name from the trade winds associated with the 40-degree latitudes of the Southern Hemisphere where the dairy is situated. A sweet blue, this pasteurized cow’s milk cheese is rich and creamy and has the distinction of being unobtrusive enough for the palates of timid tasters. If you’ve always thought of blue cheese as best enjoyed in a salad or relegated it to a dip for wings, let your imagination run wild with Roaring 40’s: it’s mild and sweet enough to be a happy addition to dozens of dishes.

For starters, why don’t you try it…
Spread on a baguette and drizzled with honey
Nibbled alongside slices of ripe pear
In a Grown Up Mac and Cheese dish
Spread down the length of celery stalks, topped with toasted, slivered almonds

Vocab for Foodies: Caponata

It’s one of those words you’ve probably seen on a dozen restaurant menus, but never taken the time to explore. Caponata [kap-oh-NAH-tah] is a Sicilian dish that’s generally served as a salad, side or relish. Traditionally, it’s made of eggplant, onions, tomatoes, anchovies, olives, pine nuts, capers and vinegar, all cooked together in olive oil and served at room temperature.

If you're interested in the concept of eating seasonally, caponata is a great late summer choice, as both eggplants and tomatoes are at their peak in July and August. Warm caponata, spooned over slices of toasted baguette rubbed with garlic and layered with mozzarella di bufala (buffalo mozzarella), is a tough treat to beat indeed.

Caponata Bruschetta

Serves 6.

1/4 c. olive oil
1 celery stalk, cleaned and diced
1 medium eggplant, cut into 1/2-inch pieces
1 red bell pepper, cut into 1/2-inch pieces
1 medium onion, finely diced
14 ½ oz. can diced tomatoes
1/2 tsp. dried oregano
2 tbsp. red wine vinegar
2 tsp. sugar
1 tbsp. capers, drained
salt and pepper
1 loaf ciabatta bread
2 cloves of garlic, peeled but not chopped
8 slices (1/3 in. thick) fresh buffalo mozzarella, drained*

Heat the olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Add the celery and sauté until just tender, about 2 minutes. Add the eggplant and sauté until it begins to soften, about 2 minutes. Season with salt. Add the red pepper and cook another 5 minutes. Add the onion and sauté until translucent, about 3 minutes. Add the diced tomatoes with their juices and the oregano. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Reduce the heat and simmer until the mixture thickens, stirring often, about 20 minutes. Stir in the vinegar, sugar, and capers. Adjust seasonings to taste.

Cut the ciabatta orizontally in half. Grill the bread cut-side down on a grill pan over medium-high heat until golden, about 2 minutes. Rub the garlic cloves over the toasted side of the bread, and then cut each half of the bread into 4 equal slices. Place a slice of mozzarella on bread and spoon the caponata on top.

*Side bar- Cow’s milk mozzarella is also totally fine, but I urge you to try buffalo if you haven’t before.

Paying Homage

Atlanta’s major newspaper, the Journal-Constitution, puts out a weekly section on Food & Drink (it also has a lot of weight-loss stories from the locals, but that’s neither here nor there). Within that section, there’s a column devoted to something called the Southern Recipe Restoration Project—basically, locals write in and describe dishes that their ancestors made and then share the recipe in the paper. I like the concept of handing down recipes generation to generation, possibly because not much of that exists in my own family.

There is one notable standout, however—Squash Casserole. Anyone that has ever dined at a Bedgood family Thanksgiving or Christmas is familiar with this dish and my affinity for it (which has approached near legendary status). I’ve been known to become pretty irate if anyone dares sample my leftovers. Not content with partaking in this dish only twice a year, I obtained the recipe that my mother’s mother gave her and am now proud to say that I make it in my kitchen whenever the mood strikes. It’s everything I think a family recipe should be—hot, comforting, easy to fix and completely indulgent. If your only frame of reference for squash casserole is what grocery stores try to pass off as such, then I urge you to try this version—it’s literally like nothing you’ve ever tasted.

Squash Casserole

2 lbs. squash, cut into 1 inch rounds
8 oz. cream of mushroom soup
8 oz. sour cream
½ medium onion, finely diced
1 box turkey stuffing
½ stick butter, cut into pieces
salt and pepper

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

Fill a large pot with water and bring to a boil. Add the squash and boil until tender. Drain and set aside. In a large bowl, combine the cream of mushroom soup, sour cream, onion and salt and pepper to taste. Add the squash to the mixture and stir gently until just combined. Butter a large casserole dish on the sides and bottom and sprinkle a thin layer of stuffing on the bottom. Add the squash mixture and top with the remaining stuffing. Dot with butter and cover with foil. Bake for 30 minutes; remove the foil and continue baking until squash is bubbling along the sides and golden on top, about 15 minutes.

The Bean's the Thing

It's no secret: I love beans and I love soups. I'm constantly on the prowl for new, fast, vegetarian soup recipes that I won’t feel too guilty about if I eat a huge bowl. On a day like today, when it’s SNOWING IN ATLANTA, I’m especially in the mood for a piping bowl of beany goodness, possibly accompanied by a Manchego grilled cheese sandwich. Oh, and I split this recipe in half (because even Mike can only eat so much bean soup), so I have about a cup of pumpkin puree left that is just begging to be turned into pumpkin crème brulèe this weekend (stay tuned for that recipe).

And just so no one thinks I’m fronting, I can’t take any credit at all for this dish—I lifted in straight from an issue of Everyday with Rachel Ray. Now there’s a woman who understands the importance of a good bean soup. Enjoy!

Curried Pumpkin and Black Bean Soup

Serves 4.

2 tbsp. extra virgin olive oil
1 medium onion, diced
3 cups chicken or vegetable stock
14.5 oz diced tomatoes
15 oz. black beans, liquid drained
15 oz. pumpkin puree*
1 c. heavy cream
1 tbsp. red curry powder
1.5 tsp. cumin
1/2 tsp. cayenne (or chipotle chili) pepper
salt
scallions or chives for garnish
sour cream for topping

Heat a soup pot over medium and add the olive oil. When the pot’s hot, add the onion and sauté 5 minutes. Stir in the broth, tomatoes, black beans and pumpkin and bring to a boil. Reduce heat to medium low and simmer, uncovered, about 10 minutes. Stir in the cream, curry, cumin and cayenne and simmer 5 more minutes. Season with salt to taste and serve with scallions or chives and sour cream on top.

*Side bar- Make sure you don't grab canned pumpkin pie filling on accident. That would make the soup... unique.

Tongues are Wagging

When I was growing up, my mom had one of those cookbooks that revealed “secret” recipes from all of your favorite chain restaurants. I was enthralled—the ginger sauce from Benihana; bloomin’ onion from the Outback; Thai chicken pizza from CPK. It was one of those “a-ha!” moments, in which I realized that restaurants use ingredients just like you and I do to make their food.

Fast forward to 2003, London. I’m a student studying abroad, craving the ethnic food I know from home and pouring over the city guidebooks in search of some grub that isn’t fish and chips. One day—lost—my roommate and I stumbled upon a narrow set of stairs that led down to a basement restaurant called Wagamama. There, we were seated at a long communal table and treated to a feast unlike any I had before. Veggie-laden noodle bowls redolent with pickled ginger, miso marinaded shrimp stir-fries, plump, juicy pot stickers. And the ginger cheesecake. The ginger cheesecake…

The Wagamama Cookbook is like that restaurant cookbook of yore, but better: Wagamama doesn’t have an outpost in the states, so I feel a special sense of satisfaction knowing that I can replicate the flavors that take me back to one of the best times I ever had with the flip of a page and the flick of a spatula.

Many, many thanks to Jade for bringing these flavors back into my life and the memories of London back into my mouth.

My Gumbo Gamble

After my first slow cooked success, I decided I was ready to try my hand at a pot o’ gumbo. I’m not gonna lie, the gumbo was… ok. I’ve never made gumbo before, so I don’t know if gumbo purists out there are reading my recipe and laughing their heads off at the inaccuracies, but I just felt like it was missing a little… something. (I think the theme for this post is going to be… ellipses.) After doing some research on other gumbo recipes, I think I may have narrowed the problem down to two possibilities: 1) the absence of filé powder or 2) that I didn’t start with a roux. Since I’m trying to make this recipe suitable for the slow cooker, I think I’ll table the roux issue for now and look into this… filé business.

I confess that I had to idea what filé powder was. FoodNetwork.com helped me out and now I’m pleased to pass the (rather fascinating) info along.

Choctaw Indians from the Louisiana bayou country are said to have been the first users of this seasoning made from the ground, dried leaves of the sassafras tree. Filé has a woodsy flavor reminiscent of root beer. It must be stirred into a dish after it's removed from the heat because undue cooking makes filé tough and stringy. It has become an integral part of Creole cooking and is used to thicken and flavor gumbos and other dishes.

Ok, I’m sold. Filé it is. Look for a reposting of this recipe soon, with my additions and modifications noted. Hey, you win some, you lose some, you make some again. If you want to give it a whirl yourself, my original recipe follows.

Chicken and Sausage Gumbo

Serves 4-6.

1 lb. boneless, skinless chicken breast, cut into 2-inch pieces
2 links andouille sausage, diced (or any other sausage you like)
10 oz. frozen okra, thawed
1 medium onion, diced
2 celery stalks with leaves, diced
1 green bell pepper, seeded and chopped
2 cups chicken broth
2 cups tomato juice
2 bay leaves
1 tsp. each dried thyme and oregano
½ tsp. each salt, onion powder, garlic powder and ground mustard
¼ tsp. cayenne (or chipotle chili) pepper
ground black pepper to taste
4 cups cooked rice
hot sauce (optional)

This is my favorite part—combine all ingredients except for rice in the slow cooker. Mix well to combine. Cover and cook on love for 6 to 8 hours, or high for 3 to 4 hours. Serve with a scoop of rice on top and a dash of hot sauce.

COW- Cheese of the Week

Cremosina, how I love thee. Often referred to as an “Italian brie,” this cow’s milk cheese from the Piemonte region does have similar characteristics to its French cousin, but is milder and has a looser consistency, making it just as tasty at room temperature as it is slightly warmed. Fun fact- Cremosina is aged in caves with a high humidity, which allows its thin, edible rind to bloom (and which also leads to it often being mistaken for brie). This cheese is pretty widely available at counters and is often less expensive (and less expected) on a cheese plate than brie.

Try it…

Spread on a crostini with prosciutto
Slightly warmed on crusty wheat bread with an assortment of olives on the side
Served alongside sliced, crisp Gala apples
Sprinkled with brown sugar and then baked in a very low oven

Tex-Mex Togetherness

While I’ve always subscribed to the “food brings people together” school of though, I feel like there are some foods in particular that have an extraordinary ability to unite the hoi polloi. Tex-Mex is one of the foods. From tacos to tortilla soup, chimichangas to cheese dip, virtually everyone I know enjoys the blessed culinary union of the American southwest and our neighbor across the border.

Problem is, I know that many of the aforementioned people don’t think of Tex-Mex as something they can easily whip up in their home kitchens. I don’t know exactly why—the techniques are basic, the ingredients inexpensive and widely available and the combinations limitless. Ah hah! Maybe it’s that so many of the meats used in the dishes beg to be slow cooked until they’re rendered falling-apart tender?

If that’s your dilemma, I’ve got a solution—poaching. Now, I’m not going to claim to know anything about traditional Mexican cuisine, and it’s certainly possible that poaching is heresy to abuelas everywhere, but I think a hallmark of any good cook should be their ability to adapt recipes to fit their lifestyles. So, that’s what I’ve done for my Chicken Enchilada recipe. That, and rejected using canned enchilada sauce—it’s so easy to make from scratch, why don’t you save the cheating for something like, oh, I don’t know—Chocolate Molten Lava Cakes?

Worth-the-Wait Chicken Enchiladas

Serves 4.

1.5 lbs boneless, skinless chicken breasts
2 cups chicken stock
½ dry white wine
2 bay leaves
¼ cup (plus 1 tbsp. reserved) fresh cilantro, coarsely chopped
1 ½ tbsp. lime juice
2 cloves garlic, smashed
¼ tsp. dried oregano
salt and pepper
3 tbsp. vegetable oil
1 large onion, finely chopped
3 tbsp. flour
28 oz. can tomato sauce
1 tbsp. chili powder
2 ½ tsp. ground cumin
1 lb. Mexican cheese blend, grated
3 chipotle chilies in adobo, seeded and finely chopped*
12, 6-inch corn tortillas
sour cream (optional)

Preheat the oven to 450 degrees.

In a medium saucepan, combine the first 9 ingredients and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat to a simmer and cook, uncovered, for 10 minutes. Remove the pan from heat and allow the chicken to cool in the poaching liquid for 45 minutes. Remove the chicken from the pan and shred into bite-sized pieces.

In another medium saucepan, heat the vegetable oil over medium heat. Add the onion and cook until softened, about 5 minutes. Stir in the flour and cook for 2 minutes. Whisk in 1 ½ cups of water, tomato sauce, chili powder, cumin and salt and bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer, uncovered, 5 minutes. Set aside to cool.

In a large bowl, mix together the shredded chicken, half of the cheese and the chipotles in adobo.

In a large casserole dish, spread 1 cup of the enchilada sauce. Dip a tortilla into the remaining sauce and thoroughly coat both sides; transfer to a plate. Fill with the chicken mixture, roll up and transfer to the casserole dish, seam side down. Repeat with the remaining tortillas. Top enchiladas with the remaining sauce and cheese and bake until bubbly, about 10 minutes. Serve with dollops of sour cream and reserved cilantro sprikled on top.

*Side bar- If you can’t find chipotles in adobo, you could substitute a sprinkle of chipotle chili powder (add it into the tomato sauce mixture), or just skip it.

Currying Favor

You know what they say about the best laid plans. I was all set to put together another slow cooker dish when, lo and behold, the clock struck 5 and I realized that dinner needed to be ready in about 2 hours—much too short of a time to utilize the slow cooker. Shoot. But I had already procured all of the ingredients needed to make a chicken curry (and even remembered to thaw the chicken!), so I was left with no choice but to adapt my slow cooker recipe for the stovetop.

I have to say… it was pretty easy. Most slow cooker recipes use less liquid than traditional recipes, so I just added back in some of the stock and rice wine (or, in my case, dry sherry, which I recently read makes for an excellent substitute). Oh, and I also snuck in some mushrooms that were on their last stem (is that what you would call a mushroom leg?).

The original recipe I found for this dish called for the addition of toasted coconut flakes to the finished product. I didn’t have any, but after eating this, I can see how the coconut would be a really nice touch—a sweet and crunchy balance to the creamy, gently-spiced curry sauce. I’d recommend going for it.

Sesame Red Curry Chicken with Bok Choy and Coconut Rice

2 tsp. vegetable oil
3 cups bok choy, leaves and stems, chopped
1 red bell pepper, sliced thinly
1 lb. boneless, skinless chicken breasts, cut into 1 inch pieces
½ cup chicken broth
½ rice wine (can substitute dry sherry)
2 tsp. sesame oil
2 tbsp. freshly grated ginger
1 tbsp. red curry paste
2 tsp. soy sauce or tamari
1 tbsp. brown sugar
1 tsp. curry powder
salt and pepper
1 can (14 oz) coconut milk, divided
1 cup uncooked jasmine rice

In a medium pot, bring 12 oz of the coconut milk to a low boil. Stir in 1 cup of jasmine rice and cover, simmering for 15 minutes.*

In a large pan, heat the vegetable oil over medium heat. Add the red bell pepper and sauté 3 minutes. While the pepper is working, mix the chicken broth, rice wine, sesame oil, ginger, curry paste, soy sauce, brown sugar and remaining coconut milk together in a small bowl. Add the chicken to the pan and sauté 2 minutes, then add the chicken broth mixture and bring to a boil. Once it’s come to a boil, reduce the heat to low and simmer, covered, for 7-8 minutes. Check seasonings and add curry powder, salt and pepper to taste. Stir in the bok choy and cook until wilted. Serve over jasmine rice.

*Side bar- If your package of jasmine rice has different cooking instructions, follow them and just substitute an equal amount of coconut milk for the called-for water.

Vocab for Foodies: Duxelles

In college, my vegetarian friend Natalie took me to a restaurant that served the most amazing crab and brie stuffed mushrooms I’ve had to date. The creamy tang of the brie contrasted perfectly with the woodsy mushroom and the rich, tender crab, that literally melted in my mouth. At that time, I was doing some cooking for my roommates, but nothing too adventurous, as we all had fairly different palates. But I felt pretty confident that no one would turn their nose up at the stuffed mushrooms, so I set out to find a recipe to recreate the dish.

I’ve since lost that original recipe I used, but it sticks out in my mind because of the inclusion of one word: Duxelles. I had to look it up at the time, but now I know that duxelles [deu-SEHL] is really just a fancy French word for a simple, versatile mushroom sauté.

Duxelles is a mixture of finely chopped mushroom stems, shallots and herbs slowly cooked in butter (you can also add wine—I like to) until a thick paste is formed. It's used in stuffings, soups, sauces (notably, Beef Wellington) and also as garnish. The recipe below works well when combined with other ingredients (like crab, brie, sausage, etc.) used to stuff mushrooms. As in the case of Forgot-to-go-to-the-Grocery-Store Black Bean Soup, just use what you’ve got on hand or what you’re really into that week to fill the mushroom caps alongside the duxelles.

Duxelles

2 tbsp. butter
1 shallot, minced
1 garlic clove, minced
8 oz. fresh mushroom stems, finely chopped (try crimini or Portobello)
1 spring thyme leaves
2 tbsp. dry white wine
salt and pepper

In a skillet, add the butter, garlic and shallot, and sauté over medium heat for about 3 minutes. Add the mushrooms and thyme and cook until most of the moisture is gone, 5-10 minutes. Add in the wine and stir together (it should look like a coarse mash). Season to taste with salt and pepper.

Chocolate Molten Lava Cakes

As much as I love to be in the kitchen, weekday time constraints dictate that I work primarily with quick-cooking recipes, as I seldom have more than an hour to make, eat, and clean up after dinner. That doesn’t leave a lot of room for baked goods, which I consider a vital part of my diet, so I’ll admit to taking a few short-cuts when it comes to indulging in goodies during the week.

The good people at Chudleighs Bakery are helping feed my need for chocolate on any given Tuesday night. Their chocolate molten lava cakes are perfectly portioned domes of creamy, gooey mouth-pleasure. In less than 15 minutes, I can have something that tastes damn close to homemade, with no prep or clean up. And served under vanilla ice cream drizzled with caramel sauce, there’s seriously no beating them.

Dropped Ball Dinner

Somehow, the weekend managed to sneak by me again without including a trip to Publix. I made it to Whole Foods, which yielded a cart full of food, a hefty bill and no real dinner menu ingredients, but I totally dropped the ball on buying anything of sustenance (sour coca-cola gummi bottles anyone?). I did, however, procure some excellent Manchego cheese—a sheep’s milk cheese from Spain (that happens to melt really well) with a particularly palate pleasing sweet-salty-nutty combination of flavors.

So on Sunday night when I realized that I had neglected to plan a formal dinner menu (for shame!), I decided to see if I could come up with something passing for supper using only the contents of my fridge and pantry. Voila: Forgot-to-go-to-the-Grocery-Store Black Bean Soup with a Manchego grilled cheese sandwich. The recipe for the soup is below, but the most important thing to note is that the soup can be comprised only of ingredients you have on hand. No salsa? Skip it. Hate cumin? To hell with it. Got a kielbasa hanging around? Chop it up and sauté it with the onion. Use what you’ve got, in whatever quantities suits your taste. I love chipotle chili powder and use it a lot, but any old type of chili powder (or even the red pepper flakes that came with your spice rack) will work. I would give you the recipe for the Manchego grilled cheese sandwich, but I don’t want to insult you. (*Hint- it's a grilled cheese sandwich. With Manchego.)

Forgot-to-go-to-the-Grocery-Store Black Bean Soup

Serves 2

½ medium onion, diced
2 cloves garlic, finely chopped
15 oz can black beans with their juice
one cup chicken (or vegetable) stock
¼ cup jarred salsa
cumin
chipotle chili powder
smoked paprika
squeeze lime juice
salt and pepper

Heat two turns of the pot of extra virgin olive oil in a small pot over medium heat. Add the onion; sauté 3 minutes. Add the garlic and continue cooking two minutes more. Add cumin, chipotle chili powder and paprika and stir to combine. Add the black beans, stock and salsa. Turn up heat until soup boils, then reduce to a simmer and cook, uncovered, for 15 minutes. Adjust seasonings to taste. If you want to puree the soup, do so now. Just before serving, squeeze in the lime juice.

Optional toppings:
Sour cream or plain yogurt
Cheddar cheese (not recommended if serving with Manchego grilled cheese sandwiches-you wanna have a heart attack tonight?)
Scallions
Bacon bits

COW- Cheese Of the Week

This week, I'm pledging my undying love and devotion to chevres-- goat's milk cheeses. I feel like goat cheese is a little misunderstood--it's one of those foods that's easy to write off if you've had a bad experience; it's often lumped into one category (there are dozens and dozens of different types of goat cheese); and there's a misconception that all goat cheeses are expensive.

This week, for your consideration, I'm presenting three goat cheese varietals: One for the novice, one for the pro, and one for the adventurer.

Novice- Goat Gouda
Goat Gouda has a velvety texture and mild, sweet taste that has mass appeal. Don't freak out--it’s not “goaty” in the least, and it's an excellent melter, great for omelets and sandwiches. Cypress Grove, the venerable California producer, has a goat Gouda called Midnight Moon that's custom-made in Holland and is delicious.

Pro- Garrotxa
Garotxa is an unpasteurized hard cheese from Spain. The pure, white milk from which it's made seems like it absorbed the flavor of walnuts and the fresh crispness of grass during aging. It comes in large, gray-rinded felt-textured discs (that your cheese monger will be happy to slice up for you) and has a bone-colored interior. The flavor is mild, nutty and herby.

Adventurer- Chabichou du Poitou
A little scary looking, but oh so good. There's a bluish-gray mould that overlays a thin, white mould when the cheese is mature, but don't let that fool you--the interior is delicate and slightly sweet, with a nutty flavor that's faintly acidic. As it ages, the soft interior becomes hard and brittle, but no less tasty.

Faking the Flame

Due to unreasonably strict fire codes in Atlanta*, I am not allowed to have a grill on my balcony. Not gas, not charcoal--no grill of any kind. As a former Floridian, this is particularly distressing, as one of the only things I looked forward to during the stifling summer heat of my childhood was the smell of the grill. I've thought about experimenting with liquid smoke, but I'm just not convinced that it could pull a fast one on my palate. (Any thoughts, readers?)

So, I have to resort to faking it indoors with a grill pan. My recently acquired Calphalon grill pan is a thing of beauty, an Anodized aluminum heavyweight that can handle more than enough chicken or fish for two, with room to a-spare-agus. (ha See what I did there?)

I haven't had much time yet to play around with my new toy, but I can assure you that there will be grill recipes aplenty once the haze of the caramel apples has been completely lifted.

*Side bar- Is this some sort of irrational fear caused by the burning of the city during the Civil War? If so, that's one hell of an untreated case of PTSD the city council is harboring.

The Very Late Discovery of a Very Delicious Grain

After throwing my hat into the ring fairly late in the appreciation of couscous, I must reluctantly admit that I’ve grown a little bored with the wee grain. Don’t get me wrong, it’s quick-cooking and the seasoning possibilities are limitless, but it’s so tiny that sometimes I’m left feeling as though I just consumed a bunch of little particles that didn’t really amount to much.

So, it was with substantial delight that I discovered I’m able to make quinoa (KEEN-wah) at home. You’re probably thinking, “Wow, she’s just now figuring this out?” And, though it’s true that I’m just slightly behind the Incas in my discovery, that has done nothing to dim my enthusiasm for my new favorite grain.

The enjoyable online food dictionary (brought to us by the folks at Epicurious.com) informed me that quinoa is still considered “new” to the American market. That makes me feel a little better. Making me feel better still is the knowledge that quinoa contains more protein than any other grain and contains all eight essential amino acids. Cool.

Toasted Quinoa with Corn and Peppers

Yield 4, 1 cup servings.

1 cup quinoa, uncooked*
14.5 oz can chicken or vegetable broth
1 tsp. cumin
1 tsp. unsweetened cocoa powder
½ tsp. salt
8 oz can of whole kernel corn, drained
1 medium jalapeno, diced
½ medium white onion, diced
2 stalks scallions, diced
1 lime, cut

In a 2 quart pot, toast the quinoa over medium high heat until you hear it crackle, swirling the pot as it cooks. Remove pot from heat and add cumin, cocoa and salt. Return pot to heat and stir while slowly adding broth. Bring up to a boil, then reduce to low and simmer, covered, for 15 minutes.

In a small skillet over medium heat, add two turns of the pan of extra virgin olive oil. Add the onion and jalapeno and cook until the onion has started to turn golden brown, about 5 minutes. Set aside.

When the quinoa has absorbed all the liquid in the pot, add the corn and onion mixture. Continuing cooking 2 minutes. Add the juice of one lime and the scallions, toss to combine and serve.

*Side bar- If the directions on your package of quinoa instruct you to rinse it before cooking, then go for it. As a very helpful reader pointed out, wet quinoa will take a little bit longer to toast, so just be cognizant of that while you're cooking.

Lemon Zinger

Growing up with a mother from Texas and a father from Florida didn’t yield much of an Italian influence in our kitchen. Pasta dishes were limited to spaghetti with meat sauce (always ground turkey, not beef) or fettuccini alfredo (from a jar). It’s no surprise then that I’m not the biggest pasta eater (and given that white flour is now verboten on practically every diet, I guess that’s convenient). True, pasta is cheap and fast, but I’ve never been wild about my own tomato basil sauce, usually relying on heaps of mozzarella baked on top to jazz up the flavor.

It was with interest that I recently read a recipe for a “basic” tomato sauce in one of my cooking magazines. It only had 5 ingredients (garlic, red pepper, tomatoes, basil and lemon), but the fifth ingredient jumped out at me, as I’ve never before included it in my sauce. I have a few other things I usually throw into the mix and, after just one try, I’m happy to report that the addition of lemon zest into my standard tomato basil mashup went swimmingly. It was amazing how much freshness the zest added—it was like going from instant vanilla pudding to crème brûlée: no contest. It now seems such a logical addition that I’m a little amazed I never thought to add this “secret” ingredient myself.

But my past wrongs have been righted: the secret is now in my sauce.

Tomato Sauce with Lemon and Basil

Yields about 4 cups.

extra virgin olive oil
1 medium sweet onion (preferably Vidalia), diced
2 cloves garlic, minced
thyme leaves from 2 sprigs
2 tsp. red pepper flakes
28 oz can crushed tomatoes (with juices)
½ cup water or vegetable stock
1 tsp. tomato paste
1 bay leaf
zest of one lemon
½ cup fresh basil leaves
salt and pepper

Put a large pot over medium heat and add two swirls of the pot of olive oil. Add the onion and sauté 3 minutes. Add the garlic, thyme leaves and red pepper and sauté 2 minutes more. Add in the crushed tomatoes, stock, tomato paste, bay leaf and lemon zest and bring up to a boil. Reduce the heat to low, cover and simmer 15 minutes. Stir in the basil leaves and season to taste with salt and pepper. Serve over your favorite pasta.

Slow-Cooked Success

The new year started off with a bang in my kitchen. Or, more accurately, with a slow boil. The very generous Niedzwieckis gave me my first slow cooker (I prefer this term to Crock-Pot, which is really just a brand name and not the brand name of my particular cooker).*

The slow cooker is appealing to me for several reasons: 1) frees up my evenings for exercise, TV viewing, blog writing, etc.; 2) fills the apartment with delicious smells; and 3) makes me feel like a homemaker from the 1970s. I realize that one of the traditional appeals of slow cookers is that less expensive, tougher cuts of meat can be transformed into moist, tender delights, but (not being much of a meat eater myself), I don't know that I'll be roasting up pork butt anytime soon. That said, I did put together some Blueberry-Strawberry Compote (served over lemon tartlets) to delightful results. And, as a bonus, this recipe used up the jar of ginger preserves I had hanging around from the baking of the Christmas Ginger Snaps. Economical success!

*Side bar- I do, however, like to call all facial tissue Kleenex, regardless of the actual branding. Facial tissue sounds gross.

Blueberry-Strawberry Compote over Lemon Tartlets

Serves 4-6.**

For the compote:
10 ounces frozen strawberries
10-ounces frozen blueberries
1 cup sugar
1/4 cup quick cooking tapioca
12 ounces ginger preserves
2 tablespoons lemon juice
1/4 cup water

For the lemon tartlets:
16 ounces cream cheese
1/2 cup sugar
1 cup lemon curd
1 tablespoon lemon zest
2 packages (about 4 ounces) mini graham cracker pie crusts or individual pastry shells

For the compote: Add all compote ingredients to the slow cooker. Cover and cook on high for 1.5 to 2.5 hours. Stir and let cool slightly before serving.

For the lemon tartlets: In a large bowl, combine all tartlet ingredients, except crusts. Using an electric mixer, beat on medium speed until creamy, about 1 minute. Spread lemon mixture into mini pie crusts. Chill in refrigerator for 2 hours or until set. Serve warm compote over chilled tartlets.

**Second Side Bar- Really, it would serve 4-6 giants. If you're not a fan of leftovers, I'd suggest cutting this recipe in half. It'll still easily serve 4.

The Story of Fresh Parmesan

The title of this blog comes from an interaction I once had with a customer while I was working as a cheese monger. The customer came to the counter and asked for “fresh Parmesan.” Seems like a simple request, except that fresh Parmesan (or, more accurately Parmigiano-Reggiano, its proper name) doesn’t exist.*

The production and sale of Parmigiano-Reggiano is strictly monitored by the D.O.C., an Italian government agency that was created to ensure that the integrity of native cheeses is maintained. Under D.O.C. regulations, a wheel of Parmesan must weigh at least 66 pounds and have been aged for no less than 14 months (although most are aged for about two years). Thus, asking for fresh Parm is akin to requesting raw cookies—you can have raw cookie dough, but the name ‘cookies’ means that they have been cooked.

So, readers, I decided to call this blog “Fresh Parmesan” for several reasons: 1) in homage to the aforementioned comical mistake; 2) to signify that the content will be fresh; and 3) to set the tone—although I’m seriously passionate about cooking (and eating), I don’t take food too seriously and neither will this blog. Enjoy!

*Side bar- I suspect that this woman had a recipe that called for “freshly grated Parmesan,” but, when asked about this possibility, she insisted that she knew how to read and was very disappointed at the cheese counter’s lack of variety.