14 posts tagged “recipe”

Good heavens... six weeks since I've posted anything. Many apologies.

Every spring for Mothers' Day, my brother and I get together and cook a brunch/lunch for our mother. At least, for the last three years we have done so; I think we had a particularly trying brunch out at a local restaurant and decided we could do it better on our home turf, without the rude waiters and screaming children. We try to have a theme. I think this year, the theme turned out to be Yummy Spicy Things from Communist Countries.

My brother wanted to make Spicy Mandarin Chicken and steamed rice; who am I to argue? Note the 1950's kitchen in the background. Except for the new range, it's pretty much the way it was when I was learning to cook in it. I think I recognize some spices and herbs I bought back in about 1980, still in the cupboards.

Green pepper massacre

I debated about making a side dish, but was working under some constraints. My husband had a 75-mile bike race the previous day, in The Dalles, about 80 miles east. We were playing on staying in The Dalles most of the weekend and then driving back to the family abode on Sunday morning. I didn't want to have to go grocery shopping that morning as well, so I needed something portable.

The answer? Cuban sandwiches. I packed along my new Cuisinart Griddler and all the fixings (had a refrigerator at the motel) and all I had to do was assemble the works and toast the sandwiches. Kettle Chips Lightly Salted rounded out the meal.

Cuban sandwiches, partially assembled

We drank some bubbly while we cooked and Mike entertained Mom in the living room (he's good at that). The chicken dish and the sandwiches, all yummy, we accompanied with a nice cheerful French pink wine. Mmmm.... wine and potato chips, my favorite.

Maphead's Mandarin chicken

Completed Cuban sandwiches

I don't have the chicken recipe, but Cuban sandwiches are basic to our household and very easy to make.


Soft French hoagie rolls (We use Franz Pub Rolls)
Soft butter
Dijon mustard (I like Grey Poupon Country Style)
Cooked shredded pork OR sliced roast pork OR sliced turkey
Sliced ham, the best you can get
Sliced Swiss cheese, full-flavored

Slice the buns open. Spread sparingly with soft butter and and with mustard to taste. Layer some pork on each bottom bun, followed by ham, and finally with cheese. Top with (duh!) the top halves of the bun. Toast them until golden in a panini press or contact grill; in a pinch, a waffle iron will do the trick. (For the Cuisinart Griddler, I cook two sandwiches at a time for five minutes on Medium and then turn it up to High until I hear sizzling sounds). Allow to cool slightly and cut in half with serrated knife. Serve with side dishes such as coconut rice and Cuban black beans, or with Kettle Chips.

There are many recipes out there. Authentic recipes from Scotland call for a sheep's "pluck and paunch". The pluck includes various innards (heart, liver, lungs) and the paunch is the stomach. One cooks the innards, grinds them, adds onion, oatmeal, suet and seasonings, stuffs the whole mess into the paunch, and steams it for three hours. Several of the recipes I read called for hanging the sheep's windpipe over the side of the kettle during the cooking process.

I decided that less authenticity was called for here.

For one thing, you can't buy lungs here, whether from sheep, lambs, or cows, presumably because of lingering fears of TB. Not for consumption, anyway... honest, that was NOT an intentional pun. Also, I had no stomach for stuffing the mixture into a "paunch", even if I could find one. I just didn't have the heart to serve that to my guests; I knew I couldn't liver with myself if no one ate the results of my effort.

I promise, enough with the puns.

I did find a modern and tolerable recipe from an old Frugal Gourmet cookbook that involved nothing quite so medieval. I adapted it as needed to suit what I had, but used his general method. First, I opened the soggy thawed-out packages of lamb heart and liver... only to find that the liver is MUCH bigger than the heart. I don't know why this surprised me, but it did. I had more liver than I needed, so Lucy (always hanging around the kitchen, hoping for a handout) benefited.

Lucy sampling the liver

Next, I diced up the hearts (trying NOT to identify parts that I recognized, but mostly failing), and put them in a small saucepan to simmer for about an hour.

Lamb heart, simmering

Meanwhile, I needed to toast the oats. Two cups of rolled oats, on the jelly roll pan, at about 375 degrees for ten minutes.

Rolled oats, ready for toasting

They made the house smell lovely, like warm granola. Later on in the cooking process, when the house smelled of warm liver instead, I thought longingly of the oats.

Toasted Oats

The sliced lamb's livers waited in a larger saucepan, along with about a pound of diced beef stew meat. The beef would help add some body and balance out the liver. I was beginning to feel like Hannibal Lector.

Liver and beef stew meat

After the heart had simmered for an hour, I added it and its cooking liquid to the liver and beef, then added more water to cover. I brought the whole thing to a boil and then simmered it for about 20 minutes. Now, the house was starting to smell very odd.

The cooled oatmeal went into my biggest mixing bowl, along with a finely chopped onion (I used the food processor, as for this I wanted onion mush), salt, pepper, rosemary, and two ounces of Scotch.

Scotch!

I had half-intended to buy really good, expensive Scotch, but panicked at the liquor store when the salesman told me that the premium brands were behind the counter (and Katr wasn't with me to egg me on). I settled for a blended variety that was called Robert Burns Scotch. It seemed to be fate.

The meat mixture, once it had the chance to cool a little (not much; I was starting to watch the clock by now) was chopped/ground/mashed up in the food processor, in batches. This was, quite frankly, revolting. It was a lot like having the stomach flu: messy, undignified, and best forgotten as soon as possible. So, no pictures of that part. My recipes all said "grind coarsely", but it was hard to get the heart and stew beef chopped up without pureeing the liver. Ewwww....

Eventually, everything was in the giant mixing bowl, and I mixed it thoroughly with my hands (therefore guaranteeing the undying love of my cats, who still think I smell like liver), and packed it into an Appropriate Vessel for steaming. You see, while haggis is ideally stuffed into a sheep's stomach, regular sausage casings are also used, and several recipes told me that in the absence of a stomach, the mixture could be steamed in a bowl or mold just like a sweet pudding. I decided to use my Bundt cake pan for this. I wonder if it will ever forgive me.

Haggis, before cooking

I used a portable roaster oven, with steamer rack, for the cooking itself. I like to set the roaster up in the laundry room in the basement, thereby freeing up kitchen space. And it always seems somewhat Dickensian to have a pudding steaming in the laundry room. So, a double layer of foil on top, then into the roaster, which was already full of simmering water. Then I could quit worrying about the haggis (mostly) and make the other dishes.

Katr showed up about 6:00, and we mixed drinks and finished getting the oatcakes ready. The party itself and other details to follow...

One of my greatest pleasures is to be at a restaurant with my husband and to watch him order a familiar dish, taste it, and declare, "Not bad, but yours is better!" Usually this happens with comfortable home-style cooking or pungent ethnic dishes. Professional chefs somehow can't resist screwing around with classic recipes, sometime with mixed results; their tendency is to tone down the rough edges (garlic and such) and make the dish more austere, more visually pure.

At dinner one night in Whistler, we noted Chicken Matzoh Ball Soup on the menu. If you aren't familiar with it, it's the Jewish mother's answer to chicken noodle soup. Not having a Jewish mother, I first tasted it at Rose's Restaurant in Portland when I was in medical school. Mike and I used to scrounge up bus fare and enough cash for dinner and take the bus to the Rose's on NW 23rd Avenue, where we would revel in thick sandwiches and enormous cakes. And, of course, the soup.

Later, I started making it at home. We were living in Southwest Portland and our local grocery store had a nice selection of Jewish and kosher food; they stocked a mix for the matzoh balls as well as an instant soup mix to serve them in. Not bad at all. I made it for years, gradually getting a feel for the light touch needed to turn out fluffy, eggy dumplings.

Here in Salem, the mix is harder to find, so I buy the matzoh meal and combine it with the other ingredients. This also gives me a chance to flavor it as desired. Most of time, matzoh ball recipes on the package of meal are a little low on flavor; I like some salt and herbs and such. Also, I use a bit of baking powder to leaven the balls; this is not traditional but we like them fluffy.

Some recipes instruct you to poach the balls in water and then add them to soup. To me, that seems silly. I add them directly to a soup or stew. If you haven't already made a chicken soup or some such, just add the balls to a pot of simmering chicken broth from a can or box. Amounts vary, but you need enough liquid in the pot for the balls to be able to bob around freely.

1 cup matzoh meal
1 teaspoon salt
3/4 teaspoon baking powder
Either 1/4 cup chopped fresh parsley, or 2 tablespoons dried parsely (or a mixture of thyme, sage, or other herbs can work; dried onion flakes are nice too)
Fresh ground black pepper
4 eggs
4 tablespoons vegetable oil (or melted chicken fat, also known as schmaltz)
2-4 tablespoons broth (from your soup pot)

Stir the dry ingredients together. Add the eggs, oil, and broth; only add enough broth to get a slightly sloppy (but not batter-like) texture. If your dough is too wet, the dumplings will all join together on top of the pot and you will have a pot pie. Put the bowl in the fridge for about 15 minutes. In the meantime, get your soup/broth/stew ready and bubbling hot.

Remove the dough from the fridge. Use oiled hands to shape it into 1-2 inch balls; set them aside on a plate. When they are all ready, bring the soup up to a moderate boil and drop the little guys into the pot. Clap on the lid and reduce the heat to something just past a simmer. You want to hear bubbling from the pot. Cook for 30-40 minutes, depending on how big you made the balls (bigger ones take longer). Serve forth proudly and tell everyone at the table that they need to eat more, that they are skinny and pale, and doesn't their mother ever feed them?

A week since Christmas Dinner, and parts of it are, well, still with us. That's the way it goes. But playing around with leftovers is for me a big part of the pleasure of making a large dinner. I think that it's an art that we are losing, in this age of microwaves and tidy plastic freezer containers, and I hate to see that.

So, what has been the fate of the feast? The bisque was consumed as is, same with the trifle. The Christmas Pudding has moved in with the remains of the Christmas Cake on the covered cake plate and will keep for a while, so no worries there. The game pie keeps well in the fridge and we have been working on it, but it's rich; not the sort of thing you want every day, so I may freeze the remains soon.

The ham presents the most opportunities. We've eaten it sliced (warm or cold), in a tortilla with cream cheese (cold), in a tortilla with cheese and leftover mashed potatoes (warm), in a creamy pasta dish, and tonight we'll have some in Monte Cristo sandwiches. We also made yummy little hot ham wraps Friday night, little triangles of cream cheese pastry with a dab of Dijon mustard and a slice of ham, rolled up and baked. Who needs Hot Pockets?

I enjoyed working with the cream cheese pastry so much that I made up a batch today and used it as a base for a savory pie. I can't give you exact amounts on the filling, but I used a chopped sauteed onion (cooled), about 1 1/2 to 2 cups of leftover mashed potatoes, and about 6-8 ounces of sharp cheddar, in small chunks, plus salt and pepper. There was already parsley in the potatoes, otherwise that would have been a good addition. Many other leftovers could have worked.

Potato pie

For the cream cheese pastry, measure out 1 cup flour and a pinch of salt; whirl it in your food processor to combine. Add 6 tablespoons cold butter, in chunks, and 1/2 a package (or 4 oz) cold cream cheese, also in chunks. Pulse a few times, then process until it comes together. Wrap in plastic wrap, and chill. Then make your filling, with whatever savory leftovers you have on hand. If your mixture looks too dry, consider adding a beaten egg to bind the leftovers, especially if you are using meat.

Divide the dough into two balls, one a little bigger than the other. Roll the larger ball out to fit a standard 9 inch pie plate and tuck in inside. Add your filling. Roll out the remaining dough for a lid, plop it on top and use whatever method you like to seal the edges (I just fold them toward the pie). Cut slashes in the top for steam. Bake at 400 degrees until golden brown. Katr was talking to me when I put it in the oven and we forgot to set the alarm so I don't actually know how long I baked this one (we looked just in time; the Pie Gods were watching) but I would guess about 30 minutes. The bottom was a little soggy, so I let it cool a bit then later (with some tricky maneuvers) got it naked onto a cookie sheet and baked it for another 10 minutes.

Not quite as satisfying as a New Year's run, but my asthma has me flattened, and that pie was about all I accomplished today. Better luck next year, and in the meantime, there's pie!

One of my colleagues just bought a bread machine for the office. It's been great fun watching the staff get excited about the fresh bread, and it's been amusing to watch the sacks of flour and other ingredients proliferate. Now he's playing around with sourdough. Since we had a brief technical discussion of sourdough yesterday, in between patients, I decided to send him some more detailed notes, and thought I might as well post them here. There are many places to order your own sourdough starter and many sites on the 'Net that will tell you how to make your own starter, so I'll not bore anyone with that.

Here's what I do to make sourdough bread in my KitchenAid, with suggestions for bread-machine adaptations:

Proportions always depend on the thickness of your starter, first of all. I keep my starter in a little covered crock in the fridge. It's fairly thick and rubbery. The night before I want to bake, I empty the whole works (about 2 cups) into a 4-cup pyrex measuring cup. I add one cup of water and one cup of bread flour, give it a quick stir, cover it with plastic wrap, and let it sit out all night. If I am in a hurry, I use tepid water instead of cold and let the mixture ("proofed batter") stand out until it begins to bubble and foam. This just means the yeast population has increased enough to make bread in a reasonable amount of time.

I then give the proofed batter a more thorough stirring; it should remain lively with lots of new bubbles forming. Then I measure out 2 cups into the mixing bowl of my KitchenAid. For basic sourdough French, I then add 2 teaspoons of kosher salt and about 2 tablespoons of olive oil (the French would never add the oil, but it makes the bread keep better). I start the mixer on the lowest setting and add 3 cups of flour and let it all mix and knead until it is smooth and resilient. If it is too sticky, I add more flour, a tablespoon at a time. If it seems really dry, I add a teaspoon of water; but that is rarely needed. I then take it out of the bowl, oil the inside of the bowl lightly, put the dough back in, and cover the top with plastic wrap. I let it rise until doubled. I punch it down and let it rise again, if I am not in a huge rush. Then I shape it into a round pizza-shape and roll it up into a loaf. I let it rise on a baking sheet, covered with the same piece of plastic wrap, until it is nice and puffy. Then I cut slits into it with a sharp knife and bake it in a 375 degree oven for 30 minutes.

For a bread machine, I'd still try the ratio of about 2/3 (proofed batter or runny starter) to flour, but you will get best results if you check on the process frequently. Watch how the dough looks at the end of the mixing cycle and add more flour or water as needed. If the dough doesn't look perfectly smooth, restart the machine and let it re-mix everything. I find that the bread machines don't work the dough enough and you don't get the chewiness that you do with a good counter-top mixer. Check on the dough while it is rising and make sure that you are getting good rising action. If it still looks solid, pause or stop the machine and let the dough catch up. Sourdough will behave differently every time you bake it.

Happy Baking!

The more time I spend cooking, the less time I have to write. That's life. I've been cooking a lot this week; some successes, some flops. The weather has cooled off and I was finally able to face the ham I've been hanging on to for a while, so I popped it into the slow-cooker on Tuesday morning (this was a boneless, fully cooked half ham, Maple River Brand) with a cup of white wine, a dollop of Dijon mustard, and a peeled sliced apple, then turned it on "low". I mostly ignored it the rest of the day, although I turned it a couple of times.

When we were almost ready to eat, I took out the ham and placed in on a platter and covered it with foil and then a dishtowel for insulation. I removed and discarded the apple bits from the slow-cooker, and poured the remaining liquid into a small saucepan. Then I made the following sauce:

Dijon-Gruyere Sauce for Ham or Chicken

Pan drippings from roasting or braising (in this case, the winey hammy liquid from the slow-cooker)
1 cup heavy cream
2 tablespoons Dijon mustard
Salt and pepper
1/4 pound Gruyere cheese, shredded

Boil drippings or pan juices down rapidly until you have about 1/3 cup. Add cream and mustard; use whisk to combine. Simmer over medium heat until it begins to thicken a little. Reduce heat to lowest setting; gradually whisk in the shredded cheese. Serve hot with the ham or chicken.

I originally found this in a Sunset book, "Country French Cooking". It was served over a roasted chicken that had been quartered, sprinkled with more Gruyere, then put under the broiler for a minute or so. We had a housemate (John) at the time who loved this dish. Years later I dug up the recipe for him so he could cook it for the young woman he was dating. He cooked it, she loved it, and they have been married now for about five years.

I had always only used the sauce on chicken, but it occurred to me this week that the flavors were perfect for ham as well. The sauce is also delicious over rice or potatoes or bread. I do have some leftover, and I plan to use some of it in the egg batter for Monte Cristo Sandwiches in a few days. We'll see how that comes out.

A number of years back, when I was living in Portland, the Oregonian's A&E section did a great article about the kinds of foods that people eat when they are by themselves. These were the meals or snacks that we concoct from the remnants in the fridge or cupboard, the things that we snarf while leaning over the sink, the guilty pleasures of the kitchen. I still remember a few of them: "Sloppy Joses" (ground beef with taco seasoning, rolled up in tortillas with sliced processed cheese); bread or burger buns with all of the possible condiments for a burger, but no actual burger; and the many variations of dinner based on ramen noodles.

Ramen noodles entered my life when I was about eight or nine... old enough to follow the package directions and cook them, in a saucepan on the stove. I adored them... salty, chewy, carb-laden strings of heavenly goodness. They were cheap then, and they're even cheaper now. Who can resist a food that usually sells eight for a dollar? What else can you buy that cheaply? A can of Coke will cost you a dollar or more from a vending machine now, but for twelve and a half cents you can have a bowl of real food.

I can afford good food, now. Don't get me wrong. I buy wild salmon and organic produce and the best olives I can find. I buy microbrews (oddly, I still tend to buy cheap wines... the wine market is still saturated with vin ordinaire, and I like it just fine). I buy free-range or farm raised meat when I can get it. But once in a while, I buy the ramen too.

Tonight was a case in point. I'm home alone; my husband went off on a overnight trial-run camping trip on his recumbent trike. We were out of leftovers, and I plan to cook something large and lavish tomorrow. So... the ramen called to me. This is what I made:

Broccoli Cheese Noodles

1 package "creamy chicken" flavor ramen
About 1 cup chopped cooked broccoli, fresh or frozen (thawed in microwave if frozen)
1/4 cup milk
2 tablespoons butter
1-2 tablespoons cream
1-2 oz cheddar cheese, sliced or shredded

Cook the noodles in boiling water. You know how to do this; every child in this country knows how. Chuck the broccoli in during the last 30 seconds. Drain. Add the butter and milk and the flavor packet and stir. Sprinkle the cheese on top; cover and let sit for about 5 minutes. Stir again, add the cream. Stir once more and serve. Eat by yourself, with a good book and a glass of cheap red wine. Sigh a few times because you are alone, then tell yourself you're a damn good cook and everyone else is missing out.

We've got a Saturday market here in town that runs from May to (I think) October. The first year it started, I wasn't too impressed, and in fact never bothered to go back until this spring when it opened for its tenth season. Boy, was I missing out.

The crafts don't really do it for me, but the produce and the food stalls are great fun. My favorite food vendor, so far, is the noodle stand -- can't remember the name -- selling veggie yakisoba and staffed by cheerful guys in Hawaiian shirts. And my favorite produce vendor, hands out, are the people from Rain Forest Mushrooms. They sell these lovely meaty fungi called maitake mushrooms, and I adore them. They also have shiitakes and a few other kinds.

This is what I do with the maitakes. In fact, this was last night's dinner. Garlic brings out the mushroom flavor, so don't be afraid to use a lot. And you do need plenty of salt in the sauce; remember this is going over pasta. Use the best mushrooms you can find and afford. If you are limited to supermarket choices, at least look for the little brown crimini which have more flavor than the regular while mushrooms.

Mushroom Pasta

1/2 pound (or more) flavorful mushrooms
2-3 tablespoons butter
1 1/2 cups heavy cream
2 teaspoons crushed garlic
1 teaspoon salt
1 pound pasta

Cut the mushrooms into slices or strips, depending on the type of 'shroom.  Melt butter in a large nonstick pan over medium heat and toss the mushrooms about. Cook for a few minutes until tender and starting to brown a little and the aroma is being released. Add the garlic and stir well; cook for a few seconds. Add cream. and salt; simmer until thickened a bit; toss with hot pasta and serve with plenty of grated Parmesan cheese.

I work late on Wednesday and Thursdays, and so does my husband. Wednesday's supper usually consists of leftovers and oddments. On Thursdays, I've fallen into the tradition of making a pot of pasta. Sometimes it's a very simple affair that I throw together once I get home; sometimes it's a more complicated dish with a sauce that I make up earlier in the day. Most of these are classic dishes, or variations on them.

Several years ago, I went through a phase of writing fanfiction; more than a phase, really, as it lasted for about six years. I usually posted these stories on a mailing list, with the longer stories sent out in many installments. This led to all sorts of enjoyable email correspondence with the readers and with the other writers. Food sometimes appeared in these tales. I remember reading a story by a woman I knew only as Martha that had one character cooking a pasta sauce of caramelized onions, fresh rosemary and walnuts. Intrigued, I emailed her for the recipe, and I've been making it ever since.

This is originally from the Greens Restaurant in San Francisco, but has changed in my hands over the years.

Onion, Rosemary and Walnut Pasta

3 large onions, thinly sliced
About 4 tablespoons butter
2 large sprigs rosemary
1/2 cup white wine
1/4 cup vermouth
!-2 teaspoons crushed or chopped garlic
1 cup chopped walnuts
1/2 cup chopped fresh parsley
Salt and pepper
1 pound linguini (I like Ronzoni)

Melt butter in large skillet and slowly cook onions over medium heat. You don't need to stir much at first, but you do want these to caramelize, so keep going until you have a nice light-brown color; and the longer they cook the more you will need to stir more frequently. If it seems too dry, add a little more butter or some olive oil. When the onions are browned, add the chopped rosemary and the garlic and saute for a few minutes. Add the wine and the vermouth and simmer, covered, for about five minutes. Taste; add salt (generously) and pepper; stir in walnuts and the parsely and toss the whole mess with hot cooked linguini. Serve with plenty of grated Parmesan.