Tommy J's Kitchen

Tuesday, July 19, 2005

Recipe: Simple Meatloaf

Usually when we eat ground beef, it's in the form of Cathy's World Famous Burgers, which are always made from ground sirloin. And when we do burgers just for ourselves, we always have some meat left over. Well, while Cathy was away on one of her trips to Chicago, I felt the need to use up some of the little lumps of leftover ground beef that were clogging up the freezer. I surely did not want to try to emulate her burgers, so I decided to try a meatloaf. The first one was a resounding success, and subsequent attempts have been pretty close, so it appears this recipe is repeatable.

Like most things, you can make this as complex as you'd like. The original concept, and this recipe, are based on the keep it simple philosophy.

here's what you'll need . . .
ground sirloin - at least 1/3rd to 1/2 lb. (serves two, 1 small loaf pan)
1 egg
1 slice interesting bread (we use our favorite Oat Nut bread)
milk to soak bread
diced red bell pepper
diced green bell pepper
sliced black olives
sliced mushrooms
minced sliced onion
1 clove garlic, minced
Worcestershire sauce
freshly ground black pepper
SriRacha or cayenne or Tabasco or. . . (optional)

Here's how you do it.
About an hour or so before you're going to make your meatloaf, get the egg out of the refrigerator and let it warm up to room temperature. If you want your eggs to combine well with other ingredients in almost any recipe, the egg cannot be cold, right out of the refrigerator. So always try to remember (or plan far enough in advance) to allow your egg(s) to warm up.

And if your ground beef is frozen, well, you're going to need to thaw it out before you'll be able to shape it into a loaf. Use the microwave, if you've got one; or just put the meat on a plate in the refrigerator for a few hours before you start. (The safest way to slow-thaw meats is in the refrigerator. The cold helps keep down the growth of bacteria .)

When you're ready to get started, preheat the oven to about 450° F. Put the bread slice in a shallow bowl and cover it with milk. Spread a drip or five of olive oil around the inside of a small loaf pan (8x3x3").

go soak your bread

For a little loaf like this one, you'll only need a little bit of onion and peppers and such. We use a couple of thin slices of a small onion, which amounts to about ½ Tsp. or less when minced up. Similar amounts of diced green and/or red peppers are plenty. Though once proved wrong, our general approach is that there is no such thing as too much garlic, so a full clove tastes fine in our house. If you're garlic shy, try to find a smallish clove, or go ahead and waste a little excess if you must. And two mushrooms are probably enough for this sized loaf. Slice them thickly (3-4 slices per 'shroom) if you'd like noticeable nuggets of mushroom in your loaf; slice thinly, or even chop them up, if you just want the flavor. Add olives as you wish.

Toss all these chopped and diced and minced ingredients into the bottom of a mixing bowl. Add the meat. Give it a quick slug of Worcestershire sauce (¼ to ½ Tsp., depending on your tastes). I usually squeeze a little SriRacha in just for some extra zing, but it's certainly not necessary.

Add 6-8 grinds of black pepper, and, if you must, a pinch of salt. (Since salt tends to draw the juices out of foods, we try to reserve salt for the table; but sometimes a tiny bit during the cooking can 'improve' the flavor of the cooked food. In this case, the other flavors in the loaf are strong enough that we don't find any 'improvement' with the use of salt. But try it both ways for yourself, and go with whatever tastes best to you!)

Next, gently squeeze all the milk out of the bread slice (reserve the milk - you can use it in the gravy you'll make later!), and then crumble the bread lump onto the meat. Crack the egg on top of the pile. And have fun!

meatloaf in a bucket

The only way to get the 'proper' texture to your final meatloaf is to get into that bowl with both hands. Squeeze, and roll, and squish, and turn and churn and otherwise mix everything up. You don't want to homogenize the mixture, so a minute or two will be plenty; but you do want to thoroughly combine everything, distributing all the ingredients throughout the loaf. When you're done, roll it all up into a ball (it will probably end up about the size of a fat baseball), and toss it into the loaf pan. Pat, push, press, and pamper the ball into a nice loaf shape, leaving at least a little room between the loaf and the sides of the pan. (If you want to be totally decadent, hide a few small chunks of cheddar cheese in the middle of your loaf!)

meatloaf ready to cook

Put the pan in the preheated oven for about 5 - 6 minutes. Then turn the temperature down to about 325 - 350° F (don't forget or you'll just create a charcoal briquette!) and cook for 35-45 minutes. If you're paranoid, use a meat thermometer to check the internal temperature before you call the loaf done.

When the loaf is done, remove it from the pan and make some gravy. If you used ground sirloin, there won't be much fat in the pan, but you can always add a pat of butter or a Tbsp. of olive oil to give you enough fat to make a roux. And be sure to remember to use the milk you reserved earlier (along with vegetable and potato cooking water) as part of the liquid for your gravy. (And if gravy making is terra incognito for you, check out the instructions in the Maryland Fried Chicken recipe of Feb. 2005.)

Then slice it up and enjoy!

Sunday, July 10, 2005

Recipe: George’s Greek Green Beans

There once was a little hole in the wall restaurant in the western suburbs of Boston where a Greek named George (Constanopolous, I think) served the best (and, for all I know, in the mid 1970s, the only) Gyros in the area. George also served the most amazing green beans I’ve ever tasted. After frequenting his establishment several times a week for almost a year, and (during the LightCraft Photo/Graphics epoch) designing his new menu and tablemats (he declined our offer to do the mural for his walls), George finally let out his secret. I don’t understand the magic involved, but the process is repeatable, and the beans are divine.

The secret is time; these beans require at least 4, and preferably 8 hours to prepare. Not that you have to do anything after you get them started, but they must cook for a long time.

here's what you'll need . . .

fresh green beans (preferably just picked)
fresh tomatoes (preferably just picked)
olive oil (the best you can afford)
salt and freshly ground black pepper (Tellicherry, of course!)

That’s it! Like I said, magic happens, but it doesn’t reside in any secret ingredients. The first time I cooked George’s beans, I didn’t believe in magic, so I tried a very small batch. The second time I cooked them and every time since, I do a week’s worth. The cooked product does not freeze well (believe me I’ve tried!), but they will last a week (or so) in the refrigerator, so plan your menus in advance to go well with these beans. That way, you can do a huge batch!

Here's how you do it.
All you need to do is wash all the veggies. Drain them and let them sit on a towel (paper if you must) till they are dry. Then, trim the stem ends off and ‘kitchen cut’ the green beans.

kitchen cut green beans

Now find a pot, for which you still have the cover, and pour some olive oil in the bottom. You want the olive oil to be about ¼ inch deep in the bottom of the pot. Toss in the beans.

beans in oil

Next, core and wedge the tomatoes and toss them in on top of the beans. Finally, grind about twice as much pepper as you think is appropriate over the top of the veggies and add a pinch or 3 of kosher salt.

green beans ready to cook

Cover and cook over very low heat for at least 4 hours (6 is better, 8 is about perfect. George used to start them at about 8am to serve with his 6pm dinners.)

green beans low

Now, a word or 3 about quantities. We find that about a pound of green beans and 4 smallish tomatoes fit comfortably in a 2 Qt saucepan, and will create 2 - 4 servings. This size needs about ¼ cup (3+ Tbsp) of olive oil, about 1/3 tsp. salt, and enough pepper to darken the surface of the pile of ingredients in the pot.

To create a week’s worth, triple all quantities (except the salt - use about ½ tsp.) and cook in a 3 Qt saucepan. If you want to make enough for the block party or the football team, get out your 18 Qt stock pot, pour about ½ inch of olive oil into it, then pour most of it it back out into a cup (now that you’ve measured it); then layer the beans and tomatoes in ‘week’s worth’ quantities into the pot. Salt and pepper each layer (you’re on your own regarding the quantities - but be careful with the salt; the acidity of the tomatoes multiplies the saltiness dramatically). Then pour the rest of the olive oil back in on top of everything; cover and cook as usual.

Very low heat means just that. If you can see steam escaping from under the cover of the pot or hear any serious bubbling with your ear close to the pot, it’s too hot; turn it down a notch. (Jeff Smith, the Frugal Gourmet, once made a comment about cooking fish - he said instead of cooking it, you should “threaten” it. The same is true of these beans. Unlike fish, the beans cook for a very long time, such that anything slightly over room temperature will work!)

On your first attempt (and any try thereafter where you have an anxiety attack), you can lift the lid of the pot after an hour to see what’s happening. Very little. Your tomatoes should be looking slightly warmish.

green beans after 1 hour

After 2 hours, steam should rise gently from the barely bubbling beans.

green beans after 2 hours

And after 3 hours, well, cookin' is goin' on . . .

green beans after 3 hours

After that, leave 'em alone (and leave the cover on the pot) until the beans are done! But when they are, be prepared to dine on Mt. Olympus.

Sunday, July 03, 2005

Recipe: Barbecued Potatoes

I never would have believed it! I figured that if you tried to ‘barbecue’ a baked potato, you’d either get a lump of charcoal, or a tooth breaking cold center, or you’d have to steam them in foil. But Nooooo . . . oh grill-breath; another possibility exists . . .

This came about because my daughter wanted steak and baked potato and the temperature was about 90 and the humidity even higher. And I was not about to run the oven (at Any temperature!) for an hour or two for Anybody. But daughters are, well, you know . . . So, what to do, what to do . . .

Duh. Parboil the suckers! But wait. That will only get the outside started; the center will still be rock hard. Hmmmmm.

Anyway, this is what evolved, and has since been repeated repeatedly!

You’ll need:
1 potato per serving
onion powder
garlic powder
paprika
Tellicherry
coarse salt
olive oil
ice

The stuff

Here’s how you do it . . .

Put your favorite teakettle on to boil, and set out a saucepan large enough to hold all your potatoes (which will be cut in half in a minute).

Scrub your potatoes clean and then slice them in half lengthwise to make the flattest pieces rather than the thickest pieces.

Slice yer spuds

Toss them cut side down into your saucepan and ‘parblanch’ them. That means pour the boiling water over the potatoes and cover the pot. Let them sit for 5 – 7 minutes. (Oh, and this would be a good time to pre-heat your grill.)

For two skinny little spuds, 5 minutes will be fine; for a bucket full of ½ lb. Russets, at least 7. But 7 is about the limit because by then, the water will have cooled down too much to do the ‘parblanching’ thing, and you’ll just be stewing your potatoes. If you really need to grill potatoes for a few hundred, try making two shallow slices (with your thinnest blade knife) just down either side of the center line of the cut face of each potato half. Start and stop your slit about 1” from each end. The idea is to let the boiling water get into the center of the potato as well as on its surface.

When the potatoes have had their bath, drain off the hot water and dump them into an ice bath. Just like with other vegetables, the ‘shocking’ by the ice bath stops the cooking, firms up the texture and improves the ‘look’ of your potatoes. Leave them in the ice just long enough so that when you pick one up and hold it for 30 seconds, it no longer feels ‘hot;’ vaguely warm is OK, but not ‘hot.’

Oooooh, icy!

Dry the potatoes (air, paper towels, kitchen towel . . .) and set them cut side up on a plate or three. You want plenty of space around each piece so you can get you fingers in between them without rubbing against their neighbors.

Sprinkle the cut sides lightly with the onion powder (1st), the garlic powder (2nd), then the paprika and then a few grinds of Tellicherry. Now, drizzle a tiny streamlet of olive oil down the length of each potato. Try to do a serpentine pattern rather than a straight line, but in any case, make it a very thin line. You don’t want to ‘wash off’ any of the spices.

OK, so I sloshed a little

When the oil is on, prepare to get messy (like set out a paper towel or two within easy reach, move stuff out of the way so you can get to the sink to wash your hands without spattering soap all over your food, things like that . . .)

Now ‘pat out’ the oil on the surface of each piece. You want oil to cover the entire cut surface, but you can’t rub because that will just rub off all the spices. So try to do little light ‘patty cake patty cake’ taps to spread out the oil over the spices. Don’t get obsessive, you’re about to turn the potatoes over onto the cut sides anyway; but try to leave as much of the seasoning evenly distributed under the oil as possible.

So. Turn ‘em over. Don’t slide ‘em around, just turn ‘em over and give each piece a little ‘pat down’ over its surface. Then turn ‘em face up again. The whole point of this exercise is just to get some oil and spice (the ‘excess’ from the surfaces) onto the plate so you can spread it around the skin side(s) of the potatoes.

So do it. Get your fingertips down there into the oil-spice mixture on the plate; squeeze up a pinch and spread it around. You want a nice oily coating all over the outsides of the potatoes.

Well oiled potatoes

Now wash your hands.

And after they’re dry (your hands, that is), sprinkle precisely 23 ¼ (or whatever your magic number of the moment might be) grains of coarse (Kosher) salt evenly across the surface of each potato. You don’t want to ‘salt’ the potatoes, you just want to add one more zingy component to the flavor. And, you have to wait until the potatoes are oiled to add the salt, otherwise the salt will just dissolve in the moisture of the potato and you will have simply salted your potatoes instead of making them Sing! (The coarse salt will not dissolve in the oil.)

Put ‘em on the grill

When the grill is pre-heated, turn the heat down to medium or medium-low and put the potatoes, cut side up, on the (lower) warming rack(s) of the grill. Close the cover and twiddle your thumbs for about 20 minutes. Then, turn the potatoes over, cut side down, close the cover, and keep on twiddling for another 5 – 10 minutes. Now turn the taters cut side up again, and finish the cooking – probably another 15 or 20 or 30 minutes.

Bbcue spuds, ready-to-eat

Serve ‘em up and enjoy! We’ve now done them, with steaks, ribs, chicken, and salmon, and they’ve worked well with each. But do keep the spice/oil/salt stages separate. I’ve tried 23 variations of mixing one, some, all of the spice(s) with oil and then just rubbing, rolling, soaking, dipping, the potatoes in the mixture(s) to try to simplify the process. And while some of those experiments have resulted in edible outcomes, none have matched the glory of the ‘proper’ barbecued potato. So do it ‘right,’ have some fun, and then enjoy!

Tuesday, June 28, 2005

Technique: Chicken on the Grill

Chicken on the grill is about as All-American as you can get - not that other cultures around the planet haven't got eons of history cooking poultry over fire. But somehow, whenever we feel the need to put on a 'typical Amurricun feast,' like for example, when niece Jessica was about to head off for a year in Japan, well, chicken on the grill with corn on the cob and potato salad or boiled potatoes and a big green salad, that was it. What else can ya say?

here's what you'll need . . .

chicken parts, I like breasts, Cathy likes legs, works out just right . . .
1/3 cup sugar
1/3 cup coarse kosher salt
1 gal. water
stuff to put on the chicken, see below . . .

Here's how you do it.
The first trick is a gift from my Uncle Chuck in Florida. An ex- IRS agent, gone legit in his retirement helping out victims of IRS intimidation, well into his 80s, and he's still giving me gourmet-cooking tips! Go figure . . . I think he came upon this one in Cooks Illustrated, but I'm not entirely sure. I am sure, however, that it works.

Dissolve the sugar and salt in cold water. Don't, as is my wont, start with a little bit of hot water and then cool it down after everything is dissolved. Start with cold water. Stir. A lot. Plan on 25 minutes to get it all dissolved. And do get it all dissolved. No little flakes or clouds or even the slightest murkiness. All dissolved. No heat.

Wash your chicken parts and put a few in a Baggie, pour in the sugar/salt liquid to cover, and seal it up. Use however many Baggies of whatever size you need to soak all your chicken in this miraculous broth. Seal them up, and let 'em sit in the 'fridge for at least an hour; 6 is fine.

When the time is up, take 'em out, wash 'em thoroughly, and get ready to grill! (The soaking insures that your chicken will come out tender and juicy, whether you cook it quickly over high heat, or leave it on the grill for a week over barely a flame. No, I have no idea why - though I can take a few guesses about what salt and sugar do to the cell membranes and osmotic pressure of the chicken meat, but, guesses they'd be, so let's just say, it works!)

So how do you get some soaked chicken ready to grill? I have about 97 favorite ways; I suspect that the more times you cook chicken on the grill, the more favorites you'll come up with too.

The simplest is, do nothing. Maybe grind some Tellicherry all over, and then just put it on the fire.

Grilled chicken

Another great idea is to take a bottle of your favorite Italian salad dressing and douse your chicken with it. (Be sure to rub it all over, not just puddle it on top.) Let it sit at room temperature for 10 - 30 minutes, and toss it on the fire.

Or maybe you've got a favorite olive oil and/or balsamic vinegar and/or herb or spice? Well, you've got the idea already. Oil it, rub it, vinegar it, rub it, herb it, rub it, spice it, rub it - in any order that strikes your fancy of the day! Let it sit, and put it on the fire.

I've been known to do no more than rub the chicken with some of my favorite Louisiana Hot Sauce; or maybe just a light dose of Worcestershire; or maybe a thickly coat of A-1; or maybe a layer of Tabasco Sauce rubbed with a sploosh of sesame oil; or . . .

Hot Sauce grilled chicken

And, there are any number of home-makeable and/or store bought 'rubs' that you can try. I'm particularly fond of Penzey's Galena Street Rub, as well as their Bavarian Rub. And I've been know to just mix a little ground cayenne, rosemary and thyme and scrub it into my chicken parts. If you're at a complete loss, just wander around your kitchen sniffing things. Anything that smells good, set the bottle out on the counter. When you've piled a bunch of bottles on the counter, do the same sniffing thing amongst them. Narrow it down to 3 or 5 or 7 or the magic 11, and go for it!

So. Either give your chicken parts some flavor. Or don't. Chicken does have a wonderful flavor all by itself. A little salt and pepper, and hey, eat hearty!

Of course, before you eat it, you should probably warm it up, at least a little! So put it on the grill. I prefer to use very low heat and let the beast cook for a long time - 45 minutes to maybe as much as a hour and a half, depending on how many pieces of chicken I'm trying to cook at once. The more meat, the longer the time. But others like to take the quick approach - turn the flame up high, leave the cover open, call it done in 30 minutes. Since grilling is a book unto itself, I'll leave the fine points to you. Just remember, the bird is definitely NOT cooked until the juices run clear (when you poke near a bone). So practice on your grill until you have a good idea how long various meats take. But since you have to practice anyway, why not practice with 27 different approaches to one of America's All Stars - grilled chicken!

Saturday, June 25, 2005

Apologies . . .

I can't believe it's been an entire month since the last post!

Let's start small . . . and get rolling again!

Tip: Upend your peeler

I always put carrots in a salad. Sometimes half-moon slices, sometimes chunks, sometimes julienned . . . But I noticed after a while that Cathy was leaving them behind. So I tried curls.

Well, all the curls got eaten, but slicing them off the carrot with a vegetable peeler resulted in carrot curl décor for the entire kitchen! One day, in frustration, I just dropped the peeler on the counter to reach for a glass of wine. The peeler landed upside down, half-on and half off the cutting board, and when I looked back down, well, duhhhh . . .

Carrot curling

So, if you don’t have a mandolin or a magical mechanical carrot curler, just prop the old veggie peeler upside down on the edge of your cutting board and stroke away! (Just remember to stop before you curl your fingerprints off! Really makes a mess, that . . .)

Sunday, May 22, 2005

Recipe: Mostaccioli

I had never heard of “mahstacholee” until I spent a few years in the Chicago area where it was a time honored (and competitive!) traditional meal amongst all my new found Irish relatives. Years later, I tried my hand, and it turned out to be so tasty, it has become an oft-requested favorite back here in New England as well.

I didn’t find out until I started writing up my recipes that Mostaccioli is actually the name of a pasta (“little mustaches”) rather than a dish, but, hey, who am I to stand on principle . . . Besides, I’d never found a pasta named Mostaccioli on my store shelves (until last week), so I’ve made this dish with Ziti, Penne, elbow Macaroni, Rigatoni and a few other shapes I’ve never heard of before or since! So I say, call this meal “mahstacholee” and dig in!

Here’s what you’ll need . . .

beef (ground beef, chopped beef, sliced beef, shredded beef, cubed beef, roast beef, stew beef, steak or . . .)
hot Italian sausage
onion
garlic
red pepper
green pepper
mushrooms (optional)
celery (optional)
tomatoes
white wine
bay leaf
oregano, basil,
salt
Tellicherry
sriracha
olive oil
pasta

Brown some sausage and beef in a little oil in a skillet, or a Dutch Oven big enough to hold the entire mess. You can use ground beef, or shredded beef or chopped up beef or left over steak or roast beef or, hey, if you want, make the dish with chicken or with pork or with veal (if you’re a mean heartless carnivore) or . . .

Brown the meat

But I like beef. One time, I found an old cube steak in the freezer and an old burger. Chopped ‘em up, thawed ‘em while they browned, and the whole thing turned out great. This time, I used some frozen ground beef, a couple of sausage links and some leftover deli roast beef cut into pieces.

I like to have some chunks in the finished dish, so I usually slice up the sausage. If you’d prefer a texture more like a traditional meat sauce, slit the sausage casing and squeeze the meat out before cooking it. Same with leftovers or other cuts of meat – leave ‘em chunky for character, or shred them small for a smoother sauce.

After the meat browns (not burned – just take the red off and let the first of the fat render out), remove the meat to a plate, preserving every last drip of juice in the pan.

Meat to plate

Also, along about here somewhere, put the pasta water on to boil.

Throw in a mess of chopped onion and let it get tender, probably 2 – 3 minutes. Then add your chopped celery, if you’re using it (I like a little bit, just for the extra flavor it adds), and cook for another minute or two. Then add the red and green peppers and cook gently for another 5 minutes or so. You want the peppers to give up the first sweetness of their flavor and that takes about 5 minutes of heat.

Cook up the veggies

About 1 minute into the pepper-time, add the mushrooms, if you’re using them. And, about 3 minutes into the pepper-time, toss in a clove (or 12) of chopped garlic. (This is going to cook for at least another hour, so you can leave the garlic fairly chunky – it will get tender,)

Add the mushrooms & cook some more

By now the water should be boiling, so toss the pasta in and stir it around. I usually use Ziti, but any hollow tubular shaped pasta will do fine. This batch was Rigatoni because that’s what I had on hand. Cook it al dente, with a definite ‘bite’ to it. It’s going to cook into creaminess in the sauce – you just want to start it here in the water.

Cook the pasta

While the pasta cooks, add a can of whole tomatoes to the Dutch oven (or whatever pot you’re using), and break them up with the edge of your spatula.

Chop tomatoes

For this batch I used a 28 oz. can of whole tomatoes (yes, Pastene), and a 28 oz. can of crushed tomatoes (also Pastene).

Add crushed tomatoes

Add a good slug of white wine, a healthy grind or 12 of black pepper, a goodly squeeze of sriracha (about an inch long), a bay leaf or two, and maybe a handful or two of oregano, basil, and parsley (not cilantro – it’s too strong at this point – save that for serving time!)

Add herbs

Now stir it all around and add the meat back into your burgeoning sauce.

Add meat back in

When the pasta is done, drain most of the water but save a ½ cup or so and toss it into the sauce with along with the pasta.

Add pasta

Stir it all around, put a lid on it and leave it over barely there heat for an hour or three. Yes, you can check on it from time to time, give it another stir, add some more water (or wine or beer or . . .) if it starts to dry out (but unless you keep popping the lid every five minutes, or have the heat way too hot, you shouldn’t need more liquid).

Ready to cook for a while

When you can’t stand the wait any longer, serve it up with tossed salad and crunchy bread.

(And if you would like a quick primer on pasta shapes and names, be sure to check out http://www.ilovepasta.org/shapes.html)

Thursday, May 05, 2005

Recipe: Cream of Broccoli Soup Etc.

It started out as “I refuse to throw out this pint of cream!” Which led to: “This broccoli is getting kinda old.” Which led to: “What’s for dinner?” Which led to this concoction . . .

I have no photos of this one. Since it sort of created itself as it went along, and since I had no idea whether it would be edible, the camera didn’t join me in the kitchen. But we just finished the leftovers for lunch, and they were every bit as good as the batch we had for dinner a couple of nights ago. So, hey, give it a try and see what you think.

Here’s what you’ll need . . .

bacon
1/3 lb. thin sliced ham
3 – 4 small broccoli heads
3 - 4 small potatoes
1 medium onion
2 – 3 cloves garlic
12 oz. light cream
2 – 4 cups chicken stock
6 oz. extra sharp cheddar cheese
Tellicherry
parsley flakes

Here’s how you do it . . .

Since it started out to be just a plain old cream of broccoli soup, and I couldn’t find any salt pork to make some ‘cracklins’ for a little crunch and flavor, I decided to use bacon instead. We don’t use bacon very often, so there’s usually a slab in the freezer, which makes slicing ¼” strips from the end of the slab pretty easy.

I used three strips. One I left ‘whole’ so that the pieces, when thawed, would be as ‘long’ as a normal slice of bacon is wide. The other two strips got turned on their side and cut into ¼” ‘confetti.’ Then into the skillet over low heat to thaw, render the fat, and slowly brown.

While that was going on, I chopped the onion (a small tennis ball size), minced the garlic cloves, and washed and trimmed the broccoli into little floret pieces. And even though my aging broccoli was picked young, with skinny stalks, I still trimmed the stalks down to their white center parts, which are tender and full of flavor, and chopped them up.

For chicken stock, I dissolved a heaping teaspoon of ‘chicken base’ in two cups of hot water. If I’d used a measuring spoon, it would have been a tablespoon, for sure, so the ‘stock’ I created was pretty rich. But that’s OK ‘cause we’ll be adding more liquid later.

And by that time, the bacon was all nicely browned. So, carefully out of the skillet and onto some paper towel to dry. Into the skillet goes the onion. Turn the heat up a little, just until you get some slight sizzle going on. Stir it around from time to time while you peel the potatoes.

When the potatoes are peeled, toss the garlic into the onions, and stir, stir, stir. As the garlic aroma pervades the kitchen, dice up the potatoes into little cubes – you should be able to fit 3 or 4 of them into a soupspoon.

When the potatoes are all cut up, carefully spatulate the onion/garlic mixture into the bottom of your soup pot, trying to leave all the bacon fat behind in the skillet. Turn up the heat under the skillet a little more and toss in the potatoes. Yup. Stir, stir, stir . . .

While the potatoes cook, add the chicken stock to the soup pot and get a little heat under it. Add a pinch (or six) of ground cayenne if you like, and grind a goodly sprinkle of Tellicherry all over the surface of the soup. Oh, and toss in your bacon bits.

While the soup warms and the potatoes cook, cut your brick of cheddar up into little cubes.

When the potatoes show just a hint of color, into the soup pot with ‘em, and into the skillet with your broccoli florets (and stalk bits). Stir, stir . . . But just for a couple of minutes – warm the broccoli (and let it get coated with all the great flavors now lurking in the last sheen of bacon fat left in the skillet), don’t cook it. Then into the soup!

Now, decision time. How much more liquid to add? Since my cheater stock was pretty strong, I decided another two cups of water would be about right – plenty of room in the pot, plenty of flavor to start, and more to come, and with some evaporation during the rest of the cooking, yup, two cups.

So pour it in, stir it through, and raise the heat to get a bare bubble going. And while that’s going on, get out that deli ham that would have gone bad in the next few days, and start frizzling it.

Frizzle? Sure. Skillet on low heat, lay out two or three slices of ham, leaving room to flip them easily. When they start to sizzle, look for a touch of color around their edges, and for them to ‘bubble-up’ in the middle. When they do, flip them over, cook a bit, and maybe even one more cycle of flips until they reach whatever state of cookedness pleases you. I like char; Cathy likes none; so I compromised – half the slices my way, half hers. As the slices get done, move them to a plate.

By now the soup should be bubbling gently, so toss in the cheese and just keep stirring slowly until it all melts. Cook for another minute or two and then add in the cream, stirring all the while. Then cut, shred, tear, or otherwise rend the ham slices into edible sized pieces and throw them into the pot. Give a goodly sprinkle of parsley flakes across the top, and now just let it cook slowly, stirring now and then, until you declare done. I waited until the level of soup in the pot had gone down about an inch, and then served it up with some crunchy rye toast. Next time, I’ll take pictures . . .

Monday, April 25, 2005

Recipe: Smashed Rutabagas (Turnips)

Before you begin, understand that what you find at the supermarket, in the bin marked turnip, are usually rutabaga(s), not turnips. Rutabagas are those big, well-waxed, roundish things, with a yellowy-purplish skin. They are indeed wonderful, and should be enjoyed on all occasions. But they ain't turnips. Turnips are typically smaller (maybe softball sized), with a distinctly purple skin. When cut, a turnip is white fleshed; a rutabaga is yellow fleshed. A turnip has a sharper, more distinct flavor; a rutabaga has a duller, flatter, more subdued flavor. Both are delicious. This is about rutabagas.

Also, remember that rutabagas always take twice as long to cook as you think they should! I’m not sure why - maybe it's because I hated them as a child and they're now exacting revenge. More likely, the starches in the rutabaga just take a lot longer to break down into sugars than other starches. Who knows . . . But we love rutabagas - with roast poultry especially, and in soups and stews as well. Yes, they're a strong flavor, edging towards the bitter. But cooked just long enough, and smashed with some butter, oh, they're as sweet and rich as your heart could wish.

here's what you'll need . . .

rutabaga
salt
Tellicherry
butter

Here's how you do it.

When doing rutabaga, I always try to cut the thing in half before I try to peel it. Get your sharpest, heaviest, longest knife, or your cleaver or Chinese knife, if you have one. Set the rutabaga on your cutting board in whatever position it will sit quietly. That may be on end, if the ends are flat enough, or it may be on one side - whichever side it rolls to naturally. If you have the cleaver or Chinese knife, and are fearless using it, give the ‘baga a good whack. You might get halfway through it or so.

But head start or not, just lean down on the knife and rock it back and forth, a little bit at a time. (Remember that a knife blade cuts on motion, not on pressure; so keep the blade moving.) Sometime within the next week or so, you will succeed in cutting the thing in half. If you're using the basic chef's knife, well, try to thunk it into the 'baga at least a little way before leaning and rocking.

Whichever knife you use, do try to keep an eye on the direction of your cut - it will be nicer if you get a reasonably straight line through the veggie. With a flat side and the sharp edge of your cut, you have half a chance of something to grip while you take your peeler and remove the skin. Do peel deep enough to get all the skin off.

Rutabaga half peeled

You can use your peeler to whittle off the stem ends, or wait until you've cut the half into pieces, and then trim off the tougher, darker bits at the stem ends. Once peeled, whack the hunks up into 2" pieces (or so, but bigger tends to be better than smaller, just because you're going to cook them forever). Toss 'em in a pot, cover with water, and cook 'em slowly forever. (Yes, you can add some salt, if you must.)

Rutabaga just started cooking

The ones below have been on for about 20 minutes. They’re not boiling. They’re just barely bubbling. Notice the pale yellow color.

Rutabaga after 20 minutes

An hour and 20 minutes later, and they’re starting to get done. See the change in color from before?

Rutabaga after 1 hour 40 minutes

And here they are after about 2 ½ hours of cooking. These are just about done. They’ve gone from light yellow to dark yellow to an almost orange color (similar to a yam). That’s when you know they’re ready. ‘Course, you could always just, well, taste one!

Rutabaga after 2 ½ hours

Just remember, the longer they cook, the sweeter they get, and the easier they will be on your digestion, too!

When they're cooked, drain 'em, and dry 'em out for a minute or three. Throw in a hunk of butter, and smash them up with your potato masher. We like ours pretty lumpy, so it only takes a minute to smash them; if you're wimpy, you can try to get them to whipped potato consistency - but you'll never quite succeed because the texture of the basic vegetable is different from a potato. When you're done beating on them, toss 'em in a bowl, grind a little pepper on top, and chow down.

Smashed Rutabaga served with Roasted Chicken

Smashed Rutabaga served with Roasted Chicken

Thursday, April 07, 2005

Tip: Save the salt until the water is hot!

Look in the bottom of your saucepans. See all those little pits, particularly in the aluminum and non-stick pots? To avoid them in the future, don’t add salt to your potatoes, or vegetables, or whatever until the water comes to a boil.

Salt is sodium chloride (NaCl) and in the presence of water, the salt ‘dissociates’ into sodium and chlorine ions. When you toss a spoonful of salt into cold water, the crystals settle to the bottom of your pan and slowly begin to dissociate. Some of the chlorine latches onto passing hydrogen ions in the water, and, voila, you’ve got little tiny concentrations of hydrochloric acid around each salt crystal to etch away at the bottom of your cookware.

When the water is hot, the salt goes into solution almost immediately, all the ions are evenly distributed throughout the liquid, and you never get a concentration of acid in one spot to dig any little pits.

If you absolutely cannot remember to add the salt after the water boils, just dissolve the crystals thoroughly in little water in a glass dish or measuring cup and then throw it in the pan. But of course, the best solution of all is: don’t salt your food until after it’s cooked. Most of us get way too much salt in our diets anyway, so if you can learn to leave it out in the cooking, you’ll use a lot less and who knows, maybe even live longer!

Monday, April 04, 2005

Recipe: Mediterranean Style Seafood Soup

It's been way too long! But again, lot's of repeat meals recently. But for something different, give this one a try . . .

This dish is named Mediterranean Style Seafood Soup primarily because it's got some tomatoes in it and because it was first created the day after some Spanish rice experiments - not because it uses any inherently Mediterranean ingredients. In fact, the seafood all came out of my freezer!

See, even though we live in New England, and have a wondrous selection of fresh local seafood available almost all year, sometimes you end up with extra. A guest cancels at the last minute; an emergency takes you out of the house; the newcomer to the table turns out to be allergic to seafood . . .

For one reason or another, you've got some fresh fish that you can't use. So into the freezer it goes.

Well, a month or four later, you're sick to death of chicken and pork, and looking for something different, and there it is, as you rummage through the depths of the freezer - that leftover hunk of haddock or salmon or cod or whatever. Well, into the soup pot with it! Marvelous things can happen . . .

here's what you'll need . . .

fish, whatever's at hand; mix and match if you wish; this is a hearty soup, so 1/8 to ¼ lb. per serving will be plenty.
shrimp - you do always keep a bag in the freezer for emergencies . . .Toss in two or three per serving
scallops - but only leftovers - fresh should never be boiled!
vegetables - carrots, celery, peppers of any and every color, zucchini, summer squash, green beans, wax beans, almost anything will work, though strong flavors like broccoli, asparagus, turnip and such will very quickly dominate the soup.
tomatoes - a can or three, and add in those scummy fresh ones that aren't quite garbage, but certainly can't be put in a salad
potatoes - about ½ potato per serving
onions - about ½ for two servings and 1/8 per serving thereafter
garlic - 2 cloves for two servings, about ½ per serving thereafter
noodles - a small handful for two servings, wide egg noodles, spaghetti, ziti, penne, whatever is on hand - you just want a few floating around.
rice - a Tbsp. or two for two servings, ½ tsp. per serving thereafter - like the noodles, you just want a little bit floating around
stock - fish if you've got it (check out your local Asian market for dried Bonita flake fish stock starters!), or chicken or vegetable stock, or if all else fails use water and some chicken bullion cubes
salt and freshly ground black pepper
Tabasco or other 'controllable' hot sauce, and/or a few slices of 'pickled' jalapeno
black olives

Mediterranean Seafood Soup Ingredients

Here's how you do it.

Cut the fish into spoon-bite sized pieces - and remember, when you eat this soup, you'll want to get more than just a piece of fish in your spoon! But also remember, if you're using flounder or sole or some other more delicate fish, you can't cut the pieces too small or they will simply dissolve.

Take a similar attitude toward all the vegetables and the potatoes; make them spoon size pieces that will let you get a piece of fish, a piece of shrimp, a noodle, a vegetable, a potato and a tomato all on your spoon!! Ahhhh, what a mouthfull. But you get the idea.

Put it all in a soup pot. Bring it to a boil. Turn the heat down and simmer for 20 minutes to 20 hours, and serve.

Mediterranean Seafood Soup in a pot

Or . . . Take some time with it. Sauté each of the veggies in some olive oil for a minute or two, starting with the onion, then peppers, then squashes, then etc. When each of the flavors has had a chance to build on what came before, then add in the tomatoes and simmer for a few minutes.

Mediterranean Seafood Soup becoming

And don’t hesitate to use up the odds and ends in your pantry. I have no idea where this pasta came from, but it sure looked like the right size for some soup!

Use up old stuff

So, toss it in, along with the rice and potatoes (in this case, some old boiled ones that were in the freezer!). And again, let it simmer for a while. If you’re a ‘taster,’ now’s a good time to check for seasonings – need some more Tellicherry? How about salt? Got enough ‘zip’ from the Tabasco and/or jalapenos? Maybe add the juice from half a lemon (or even a lime, if that’s what you’ve got!) Make any adjustments and then toss in the fish.

Now give it the ’20 minutes to 20 hours’ barely there simmer and serve it up. Goes great with warm tortilla chips, and maybe some fresh tomato slices with Bleu cheese dressing or . . .

Mediterranean Seafood Soup served

Monday, March 21, 2005

Recipe: Tommy J’s definitely not Hungarian Chicken Goulash

So I opened a can of peas by mistake. Couldn’t use them that night, so they sat in the fridge and stared at me every time I opened the door. Until they ended up sitting next to a tub of soured cream, and well, one thing led to another . . .

here's what you'll need for two big servings. . .

1 large boneless, skinless chicken breast or 4 to 6 chicken ‘tenders’
1 can peas
onion
red bell pepper
garlic
mushrooms
Louisiana Hot Sauce
dried thyme
dried rosemary
paprika
fresh ground Tellicherry
soured cream
wide egg noodles
butter
olive oil

Chicken Goulash ingredients

Here's how you do it.

Cube the chicken and massage it with the hot sauce. As I was making this up, I first planned on using SriRacha for the ‘heat’, but maybe that would have been a little too much or too ‘hard’ a heat. Then I thought about Tabasco, but that seemed too ‘pointy.’ sort of a needle-like heat. But then the old stand-by came to mind – Louisiana Hot Sauce – and it just seemed to work perfectly with the piquant pungency of the paprika. So rub it in and let the chicken sit until you get everything else ready (30 minutes or so).

Don’t drain the peas! Instead, season them with some dried thyme and rosemary. Crush about 1/3 tsp. of each in the palm of your hand and toss it into the liquid. Let the seasoned peas, like the chicken, sit for 30 minutes.

Put a pot of water on the stove and crank up the heat. By the time you get the rest of this stuff prepped, the water will be ready to cook your pasta.

I had some little bits of red onion leftover, so I chopped them up. But that didn’t look like enough, so I added about 2/3 of a yellow onion, sliced paper thin. Yeah, that’s about right . . Chop up the red bell pepper; I used about 1/3 of a large one. Chop the garlic. That’s two good-sized cloves, coarsely chopped. And, hey, mushrooms go with everything!

And to provide a cool, crunchy contrast to the goulash, toss together some iceberg lettuce and tomatoes to go with your favorite Ranch dressing.

Now that you can pay attention to the timing, your pot of water should be boiling, so cook up some wide egg noodles. Don’t let them cook for more than 5 minutes! Then drain them, give them a quick rinse under cold water, and back into the still warm pot. Add a Tbsp. or so of butter, stir to coat the noodles and then cover the pot to keep them warm.

Next, remove your skillet from its burner and turn the burner up to medium high (about 3 o’clock on my stove knobs). You don’t want to heat empty non-stick pans that hot – the heat will break down the coating and food will stick forevermore. But you will want to seal the chicken quickly so it will stay tender on the inside while you get it nicely browned on the outside.

So, when the burner is nice and hot, put the skillet on, count to 3, add a couple Tbsp. of olive oil, turn on the exhaust fan, and toss in the chicken. Swirl, toss, flip, and otherwise keep your chicken moving until it’s all nicely sealed. If the heat is right, it should take less than 2 minutes.

seal the chicken

As soon as the chicken is sealed, lift the pan off the burner, reduce the heat to medium low (about 7 o’clock), count to 17, put the skillet back on the burner and cook the chicken until it’s brown. Probably another 4 to 6 minutes.

brown the chicken

When the chicken is browned, remove it from the pan and set it aside until you get the sauce prepared. Try to leave all the oil in the skillet.

Now, put the skillet back on the burner, crank the heat up again (to about 4 o’clock this time), count to 5 and add the onions. Sauté for exactly one minute.

Add the peppers; sauté 1 minute.

Add the mushrooms; sauté 2 or 3 minutes, just until they begin to change color.

Add the garlic; sauté 1 minute.

Grind fresh Tellicherry all over everything. Stir it all around. Deglaze with white wine (that just means pour a goodly slug of wine into the hot skillet). Let it sizzle until half the wine is gone.

Add the peas and all the seasoned liquid, and swirl it all around until it comes back to a lively simmer.

Add about 3 Tbps. of soured cream and stir to mix thoroughly.

sauce underway

Return the sauce to a gentle simmer, reducing the heat to about 8 or even 9 o’clock on the knob. When the simmering has started, add the first dose of paprika. I just sprinkle my paprika on until it ‘looks right.’ In this case, I’d say I used about 2 Tbsp. It’s a pretty hefty dose.

And speaking of paprika, there are lots of different paprikas out there. Sweet, sour, half-sharp, and probably 27 others I’ve never heard of. I find I really like the flavor of the garden variety McCormick’s brand. Not too sharp, not too sweet, works well with other flavors but holds its own taste when cooked. So I buy it by the barrel and sprinkle it on everything. Your mileage may vary . . . But if you don’t like one brand, do try another and keep trying until you find the one(s) that work(s) for your taste.

add first paprika

OK. Keep that gentle simmer going until the volume of your sauce has been reduced by half. That may take from 5 to 7 or 8 minutes, so stir everything around every minute or two to help the sauce ‘become one.’ Don’t let it boil or your sauce will at least separate, maybe burn.

When the volume is down and the sauce is ‘one,’ add the chicken and more paprika. This time, I used less, maybe a couple of tsps. Once again, I just sprinkle until it looks right.

add chicken and more paprika

Cook a while. I don’t know. Until it’s ‘done.’ You want the chicken to get heated all the way through. You want the paprika flavors to have time to permeate the sauce. You want some of the ‘hot’ from the Louisiana Hot Sauce to wander through the dish. Give it 10 to 15 minutes or so; more than 20 or 25 would probably be a bad idea – too much liquid would evaporate.

cook for a while

When it’s ‘done,’ make noodle ring,

fill it with goulash,

Chicken Goulash

and enjoy! Serve it up with your lettuce and tomato salad and maybe some crispy rye toast or crunchy French bread . . .