A Series of Unfortunate Events. Sounds like my love life. Ha! No, just kidding. A good series of books (I have them all), even if the ending was disappointing. I mean, that’s it? No “happy ever after”? I mean, so they don’t have to worry about Count Olaf anymore. Big deal. Seriously, they had a better chance of getting off that island than Gilligan.
But the food! The only book that comes even close to peeking my culinary curiosity is Harry Potter and even that’s a stretch. J.K. Rowling’s use of food in her books is incredible (and I’ll happily admit HP is what got me started on this little venture) even if 90% of what she writes about is true English food.
Lemon Snicket, on the other hand, could easily have been a chef. Who else would come up with an entire restaurant based on salmon and call it Café Salmonella. Kind of reminds me of a Mexican restaurant in Phoenix (N. 7th Ave, I think?) called La Cucaracha (The Cockroach).
So, the other day my sister asked me about authentic enchilada sauce. Luckily for me, Lemony Snicket mentioned just the same thing! Well, sort of. While the kids where in the Vile Village, a man named Hector took care of them and made them a dinner of enchiladas like his mom had made for him.
Being from Arizona, I love a good enchilada. I hate bad ones, but that goes without saying…even though I just did. My mom made enchiladas with a great creamy sauce with green chilies. Unfortunately, she never wrote down the recipe and changes it every time she makes it depending on what she has on hand and that makes it difficult to include it, but I’ll do my best!
I’ve also included a couple of other traditional sauces I think you should try. The Red Chili Sauce (Salsa Roja), is the spiciest. (Don't believe those who think green is hotter!!!) If you don’t want to take the time to cook the chicken and roll the enchiladas, you can buy those frozen chicken taquitos, Just be sure to thaw them out first. I’m dreaming of Jordan’s on Central Ave again (even though it’s closed)!
Cooking the Chicken -
3 lbs chicken
2 Bay leaves
10 whole peppercorns
Put everything in a large pot and cover with cold water. Bring the water to a boil then reduce the heat a little and let it simmer gently for about 30 minutes. Pull the chicken out of the water, put it on a large plate, and let it cool. The chicken should be tender and break apart easily with a fork. Shred it into thin pieces. Save the water in the pot.
In a large bowl, mix the chicken together with:
1 bunch green onions, chopped - white and green parts together
1 4 oz can chopped olives or 1 6 oz can whole olives, chopped
Roll this mixture into corn tortillas with a sprinkle of cheese and place then in a casserole dish. Cover with the sauce of your choice and more cheese. Bake, covered with foil, at 325° F for 25-30 minutes.
Creamy Enchilada Sauce -
2 cans cream of chicken soup
1 soup can of milk
2 4 oz cans diced green chilies
2 tablespoons sour cream
Salsa Verde (Green Chili Sauce) -
Before we start there are several things you should know. It’s best to use the canned green chilies. Roasting chilies involves rubbing them with oil, putting them on a hot grill until completely black, putting them in a bowl and covering with plastic to let them steam in their own heat for an hour or two and then rubbing off the burnt skin. Way too much effort even for adults. However, if you want to go through all that trouble, the taste is totally worth it. Also, using canned tomatillos is totally acceptable because blanching them involves peeling off the paper-like skin, cooking them in hot boiling salted water for two minutes and immediately cooling them in an ice water bath. Again, if you want to do that it is totally worth the effort. If you have a tomato garden and you have some nice green tomatoes, those work just fine instead of tomatillos. They are not related in any way (even though they look the same), but the flavors are very similar. You don’t even have to blanch them. Finally, you don’t have to clean the seeds out of the Poblano chilies because they aren’t all that hot. At least not to me! If you want some heat, add a jalapeño or two. If you are feeling brave, you don’t have to clean the seeds out of that one either. Now, let’s get started!
1 T Olive Oil
1 Small Onion, chopped
2 fresh Poblano chilies, chopped
1 teaspoon fresh minced garlic
½ teaspoon ground cumin
¼ teaspoon dried oregano
1 8oz can green chilies or 10 - 12 roasted fresh Anaheim chilies
1 7 oz can tomatillos or ½ lb fresh tomatillos cleaned, blanched and cut in quarters
1 14 oz can chicken or vegetable broth
1 bunch fresh cilantro, chopped fine
1 T lime juice
salt and pepper
In a medium-sized sauce pan, heat the olive oil just a little. Sauté the onions, Poblanos, garlic, cumin and oregano until the onions get soft and the garlic and spices start to sweat. Put this mixture in a food processor with the roasted chilies, tomatillos and half of the broth and blend until smooth. Put all this back into the same sauce pan with the rest of the broth and bring the sauce to a simmer. Let the sauce cook for about five minutes. Remove from the heat. Add the cilantro, lime juice and salt and pepper. Taste it and add a little more salt and pepper if needed.
Salsa Roja (Red Chili Sauce) -
8-10 dried large red chilies (or ½ C red chili powder)
2 cups boiling water
1 T olive oil
1 T flour
1 tsp ground cumin
1 tsp dried oregano
1 8 oz can (1 cup) tomato sauce - optional
Dash of salt
In a bowl, combine the dried chilies and boiling water. After the water has cooled and the chilies are nice and soft, pull the stems off and then puree the chilies with the water. In a saucepan, warm up the olive oil a little. If the oil is too hot, you’ll burn the spices. Add the cumin and oregano and cook, stirring constantly, for a couple of minutes until the spices start to sweat. Add the flour and keep stirring until mixed well and you have a nice paste. Add the pureed chilies (and tomato sauce, if you like) and stir until the paste is dissolved. Simmer for 5 minutes. Add a little salt and taste to make sure it‘s right. If you use chili powder, there’s no need to puree anything.
Monday, May 17, 2010
Monday, May 10, 2010
Don't Burn The Soup!
I love World War II history. It may have been a dark period but there are so many lessons to be learned; stories of heroism amidst tragedy abound. Here we are at war again and yet the sacrifices we are making pale in comparison to what The Greatest Generation had to deal with. Millions died, all so one singular man could justify his existence. But enough waxing philosophical. This is a food blog and what better way to celebrate peace and life than to talk about food!
I have always been intrigued by the story of Anne Frank and her book was always on my list of books to read. It never occurred to me to add it to my list of children’s literature for my cookbook, mainly because, contrary to the belief of some extremists, it is not a work of fiction. In fact, it is the only non-fiction book on the list.
Then I saw her diary played out on a special on PBS (Masterpiece Theater, I think? Yeah…no cable means I watch a lot of PBS). I was hooked. Why do we not teach this story in high school? Why is it not required reading for our kids? I had to read Catcher in the Rye, which may have been a classic, but is not nearly as poignant and profound. Especially considering the author was only 13 when she started writing.
So what does this have to do with food? Anne actually talks quite a bit about food, although not in great detail like J.K Rowling or Lemony Snicket did. She talks mostly about things like their eating habits, peeling potatoes, her father’s jam making business or Mr. Dussel secretly hording food. I was extremely delighted when she talked about watching Mr. van Daan making mettwurst, so much so that I have to try it, even if it kills my diet! It’s interesting considering the main meat used in mettwurst is pork. They must not have been all that orthodox, which would explain them celebrating St. Nicholas’ Day. Of course, I’ll let you know how it turns out.
Beans and potatoes were a big staple for them; easily cooked, easily stored and in plentiful supply compared to other rationed foods. They had “brown beans”, which I assume to be pinto, navy beans, and split peas. The split peas intrigued me the most because her mom had put them on the stove and forgot them, not only burning the peas but ruining the pan as well. Oh, how I can relate! I did that to a pot of lentils once. Luckily I managed to save the pan.
Not everyone likes split pea soup and I can understand why. Sometimes it looks like something from the diaper of a sick baby. Sorry. Had to be said. I like mine chunky with big bits of potatoes, carrots, onion and ham. (The soup, not the diaper!) With their rationing I can’t imagine them wasting anything like potatoes and carrots on a soup and being Jewish, the ham is out too.
So, I have two recipes here. One is how I make it at home. The other is how I think Mother Frank would have made it in the Secret Annex’s kitchen.
My Split Pea Soup
1 lb split peas
1 tsp salt
1 ham shank bone
2 quarts vegetable broth
2 quarts water
1 lb diced ham
½ lb German potatoes (red ones - or any kind you like), washed and diced large
½ lb carrots, peeled and diced large
1 onion, diced small
½ tsp liquid smoke
1 T fresh thyme, chopped fine
Salt and pepper to taste
Combine the split peas, ham bone, water and vegetable broth in a large pot. Bring to a simmer. Reduce the heat, cover and simmer for 30 minutes. Add the ham, potatoes, carrots, onion and liquid smoke. Cover and simmer for 15-20 minutes or until split peas and potatoes are tender, stirring occasionally. Add the fresh thyme, simmer for about 5 minutes and taste for salt and pepper. Remove the bone before serving.
Mother Frank’s Split Pea Soup
2 lbs split peas
1 onion, diced small
2 cloves garlic, minced fine
1 gallon water
Salt and pepper to taste
Combine everything in a large pot. Bring to a simmer, reduce the heat to medium low, cover and cook 50 minutes to one hour, stirring occasionally. Taste for salt and pepper.
Just don't burn the soup!
I have always been intrigued by the story of Anne Frank and her book was always on my list of books to read. It never occurred to me to add it to my list of children’s literature for my cookbook, mainly because, contrary to the belief of some extremists, it is not a work of fiction. In fact, it is the only non-fiction book on the list.
Then I saw her diary played out on a special on PBS (Masterpiece Theater, I think? Yeah…no cable means I watch a lot of PBS). I was hooked. Why do we not teach this story in high school? Why is it not required reading for our kids? I had to read Catcher in the Rye, which may have been a classic, but is not nearly as poignant and profound. Especially considering the author was only 13 when she started writing.
So what does this have to do with food? Anne actually talks quite a bit about food, although not in great detail like J.K Rowling or Lemony Snicket did. She talks mostly about things like their eating habits, peeling potatoes, her father’s jam making business or Mr. Dussel secretly hording food. I was extremely delighted when she talked about watching Mr. van Daan making mettwurst, so much so that I have to try it, even if it kills my diet! It’s interesting considering the main meat used in mettwurst is pork. They must not have been all that orthodox, which would explain them celebrating St. Nicholas’ Day. Of course, I’ll let you know how it turns out.
Beans and potatoes were a big staple for them; easily cooked, easily stored and in plentiful supply compared to other rationed foods. They had “brown beans”, which I assume to be pinto, navy beans, and split peas. The split peas intrigued me the most because her mom had put them on the stove and forgot them, not only burning the peas but ruining the pan as well. Oh, how I can relate! I did that to a pot of lentils once. Luckily I managed to save the pan.
Not everyone likes split pea soup and I can understand why. Sometimes it looks like something from the diaper of a sick baby. Sorry. Had to be said. I like mine chunky with big bits of potatoes, carrots, onion and ham. (The soup, not the diaper!) With their rationing I can’t imagine them wasting anything like potatoes and carrots on a soup and being Jewish, the ham is out too.
So, I have two recipes here. One is how I make it at home. The other is how I think Mother Frank would have made it in the Secret Annex’s kitchen.
My Split Pea Soup
1 lb split peas
1 tsp salt
1 ham shank bone
2 quarts vegetable broth
2 quarts water
1 lb diced ham
½ lb German potatoes (red ones - or any kind you like), washed and diced large
½ lb carrots, peeled and diced large
1 onion, diced small
½ tsp liquid smoke
1 T fresh thyme, chopped fine
Salt and pepper to taste
Combine the split peas, ham bone, water and vegetable broth in a large pot. Bring to a simmer. Reduce the heat, cover and simmer for 30 minutes. Add the ham, potatoes, carrots, onion and liquid smoke. Cover and simmer for 15-20 minutes or until split peas and potatoes are tender, stirring occasionally. Add the fresh thyme, simmer for about 5 minutes and taste for salt and pepper. Remove the bone before serving.
Mother Frank’s Split Pea Soup
2 lbs split peas
1 onion, diced small
2 cloves garlic, minced fine
1 gallon water
Salt and pepper to taste
Combine everything in a large pot. Bring to a simmer, reduce the heat to medium low, cover and cook 50 minutes to one hour, stirring occasionally. Taste for salt and pepper.
Just don't burn the soup!
Friday, March 5, 2010
Mt Graham Raspberries
Contrary to what Mother Nature would have us believe, Spring is right around the corner. I feel it! (or is that just wishful thinking? It snowed again today.) Ok, so I’m more hoping then anything else. I can honestly say I’m thankful for a global economy and Chilean farmers who work hard to send us produce in the winter. If it wasn’t for them, we wouldn’t have most of the produce we see in our supermarkets. If only they could give me fresh watermelon or pumpkins all year long, I’d be very, very happy.
The other day I’m at work and a customer asked for a bowl of raspberries, because the server, in his infinite wisdom, or the lack thereof, told the customer we had some. Now, normally my response would be somewhere along the lines of, “If it’s not on the menu, we don’t have it.” Unfortunately, we had a pint left over from a banquet the day before and unfortunately, I knew that. So I resigned myself to the fact that some people have to be babysat and got some raspberries for the customer.
I couldn’t help myself. I rarely can when it comes to raspberries. I have to have a nibble. I popped one into my mouth. If it wasn’t for great restraint and will-power (yeah, laugh if you will) I would have eaten the whole pint and the customer would have gotten nothing. (Maybe I should have thought of that before!)
The memories! Well, memory at least. Since the early 1900’s my family has owned a cabin on Turkey Flat, high up on Mount Graham, Southeast of Phoenix. We used to go there at least once a year. It was the ultimate retreat.
It didn’t seem to matter what time of year we went, it was all heaven. In April, you can drive farther up the mountain, about half-way between Turkey Flat and Riggs Lake and hike up to a place called Lady Bug Saddle. When you hike up there in April, the rocks and trees take on an almost eerie red hue. Lady bugs. By the millions.
Sometimes we’d go for the 4th of July. If we were lucky the monsoons would come early that year. They usually aren’t due until end of July, early August, but it’s all the same no matter when you go. Every afternoon at 4, like clockwork, the thunder explodes as close as a hundred yards away and the torrential rain sends everyone huddling around the fireplace inside the cabin. That smell of rain mixed with pine is intoxicating.
But there’s one more place, though, the memory of which always comes back to me because of one thing…Raspberries. Wild Raspberries to be precise. The cabin sits on a large flat ridge in the middle of a ravine. There was a trail that led down to the bottom of the ravine and up and along the other side, through a dry river bed and eventually to the main road, coming out to an abandoned building that used to be the old General Store. All along this trail and along the main road are wild strawberries and raspberries. I like strawberries but it’s the raspberries I loved. Sweet and tangy. Perfectly ripe in the summer. I’d pick them all…if my sisters didn’t get to them first.
The other day I’m at work and a customer asked for a bowl of raspberries, because the server, in his infinite wisdom, or the lack thereof, told the customer we had some. Now, normally my response would be somewhere along the lines of, “If it’s not on the menu, we don’t have it.” Unfortunately, we had a pint left over from a banquet the day before and unfortunately, I knew that. So I resigned myself to the fact that some people have to be babysat and got some raspberries for the customer.
I couldn’t help myself. I rarely can when it comes to raspberries. I have to have a nibble. I popped one into my mouth. If it wasn’t for great restraint and will-power (yeah, laugh if you will) I would have eaten the whole pint and the customer would have gotten nothing. (Maybe I should have thought of that before!)
The memories! Well, memory at least. Since the early 1900’s my family has owned a cabin on Turkey Flat, high up on Mount Graham, Southeast of Phoenix. We used to go there at least once a year. It was the ultimate retreat.
It didn’t seem to matter what time of year we went, it was all heaven. In April, you can drive farther up the mountain, about half-way between Turkey Flat and Riggs Lake and hike up to a place called Lady Bug Saddle. When you hike up there in April, the rocks and trees take on an almost eerie red hue. Lady bugs. By the millions.
Sometimes we’d go for the 4th of July. If we were lucky the monsoons would come early that year. They usually aren’t due until end of July, early August, but it’s all the same no matter when you go. Every afternoon at 4, like clockwork, the thunder explodes as close as a hundred yards away and the torrential rain sends everyone huddling around the fireplace inside the cabin. That smell of rain mixed with pine is intoxicating.
But there’s one more place, though, the memory of which always comes back to me because of one thing…Raspberries. Wild Raspberries to be precise. The cabin sits on a large flat ridge in the middle of a ravine. There was a trail that led down to the bottom of the ravine and up and along the other side, through a dry river bed and eventually to the main road, coming out to an abandoned building that used to be the old General Store. All along this trail and along the main road are wild strawberries and raspberries. I like strawberries but it’s the raspberries I loved. Sweet and tangy. Perfectly ripe in the summer. I’d pick them all…if my sisters didn’t get to them first.
Monday, February 15, 2010
The Sacrifices I Make!
The cookbook I have been working on has sent me on a fun and adventurous journey. I’ve been to Hogwarts, Narnia and a little house on the prairie. I’ve fought in the American Revolution, probed the mind of a teenage criminal genius and dealt with a series of unfortunate events. I’ve even been around the world in 80 days and on a wild ride with Mr. Toad.
Many of these adventures include various culinary delights. Some more than others. J.K. Rowling mentions nearly 200 different dishes and treats, a few of which are mentioned at least a dozen times. I hope I don’t ruin the mysticism of Harry’s world by revealing to American kids what English kids already knew - almost all of the food mentioned in the series is real. Even chocolate frogs are real. Just don’t expect them to jump.
The French and Italians have complained about English cuisine for centuries. Seeing how American cuisine was created from the foundation of English cooking, you’d think I’d say something to defend “Mother England” from a callous culinary beating from the continent. I mean really, the French eat frogs and snails, and I mean real frogs, not the chocolate kind! Who are they to complain about English food? I think all countries have something to offer from both ends of the spectrum. Can you say, “chitlin’s?” I try not to.
So, I’m reading an English classic by C.S. Lewis - a little tome called The Chronicles of Narnia - when I come across the part where young Lucy has lunch with Mr. Tummins the fawn. You have to read the book (the movie, while very well done, doesn’t mention what they ate besides tea) to get the menu. Listed on this menu - sardines on toast.
Sardines. Really. Apparently this is a common tea-time snack in England. It’s a tiny fish, usually smoked and stuffed into tiny tin cans. But you already knew that. What you probably didn’t know was how they tasted. Fishy. There ya go. All done. Ya think? Nope. I’ve never eaten sardines before. I’ve played sardines, but not eaten them and for good reason. I love fish, but I draw the line at cat food.
My grandfather Clarence served his LDS mission in Germany and came home with a love for the “stinky fish” as my grandmother would call it. She compromised and allowed him one tin a year at Christmastime. Now that’s love! But seriously, that’s like me loving sushi after spending two years in Japan. At least sushi doesn’t stink.
But I had to try it. I can’t write about it and try and convince kids to eat it if I haven’t ever tried it. I could play the George Carlin card and say, “It came to me in a dream!” But that would be cheating. So, off I went to the grocery store. It took me ten seconds to find them and ten minutes to check my wussy gut at the door and bring myself to pull a tin off the shelf. I bet I looked like that guy in the Carl’s JR commercial who can’t decide what kind of ground beef to buy. In the end, I picked four different tins. Yup. Four. I amaze myself sometimes. The four that I picked were - plain, marinated in Louisiana Hot Sauce, marinated in mustard and skinless/boneless.
All in all, it wasn’t bad. Just wasn’t good, either. Maybe it’s the fact that I’m not a big fan of smoked fish of any kind. I prefer mine fresh. Maybe it was the skin and tiny backbones. I’m kind of “anti -“ on that front. Maybe it was the smell, which, no matter what it was marinated in or what I did to it (I tried to make a kind of “tuna-fish” type mess with the skinless ones, but it didn’t help), the smell always seemed to permeate up through my nostrils with every bite.
Maybe my love for fresh fish is the defining hurdle in the adventure. Maybe I should go to Italy and try me some un-smoked sardines fresh from the warm Mediterranean Sea. Nah. They eat it with the head still on.
How am I going to get kids to eat this? Let me rephrase that. How am I going to get American kids to eat this? Maybe I’ll just say, “C.S. Lewis has sardines on toast in his book and J.K. Rowling has kippers in hers (same thing, sort of, as sardines). If you can handle it, more power to ya! As for me, I’ll stick to tuna.”
Many of these adventures include various culinary delights. Some more than others. J.K. Rowling mentions nearly 200 different dishes and treats, a few of which are mentioned at least a dozen times. I hope I don’t ruin the mysticism of Harry’s world by revealing to American kids what English kids already knew - almost all of the food mentioned in the series is real. Even chocolate frogs are real. Just don’t expect them to jump.
The French and Italians have complained about English cuisine for centuries. Seeing how American cuisine was created from the foundation of English cooking, you’d think I’d say something to defend “Mother England” from a callous culinary beating from the continent. I mean really, the French eat frogs and snails, and I mean real frogs, not the chocolate kind! Who are they to complain about English food? I think all countries have something to offer from both ends of the spectrum. Can you say, “chitlin’s?” I try not to.
So, I’m reading an English classic by C.S. Lewis - a little tome called The Chronicles of Narnia - when I come across the part where young Lucy has lunch with Mr. Tummins the fawn. You have to read the book (the movie, while very well done, doesn’t mention what they ate besides tea) to get the menu. Listed on this menu - sardines on toast.
Sardines. Really. Apparently this is a common tea-time snack in England. It’s a tiny fish, usually smoked and stuffed into tiny tin cans. But you already knew that. What you probably didn’t know was how they tasted. Fishy. There ya go. All done. Ya think? Nope. I’ve never eaten sardines before. I’ve played sardines, but not eaten them and for good reason. I love fish, but I draw the line at cat food.
My grandfather Clarence served his LDS mission in Germany and came home with a love for the “stinky fish” as my grandmother would call it. She compromised and allowed him one tin a year at Christmastime. Now that’s love! But seriously, that’s like me loving sushi after spending two years in Japan. At least sushi doesn’t stink.
But I had to try it. I can’t write about it and try and convince kids to eat it if I haven’t ever tried it. I could play the George Carlin card and say, “It came to me in a dream!” But that would be cheating. So, off I went to the grocery store. It took me ten seconds to find them and ten minutes to check my wussy gut at the door and bring myself to pull a tin off the shelf. I bet I looked like that guy in the Carl’s JR commercial who can’t decide what kind of ground beef to buy. In the end, I picked four different tins. Yup. Four. I amaze myself sometimes. The four that I picked were - plain, marinated in Louisiana Hot Sauce, marinated in mustard and skinless/boneless.
All in all, it wasn’t bad. Just wasn’t good, either. Maybe it’s the fact that I’m not a big fan of smoked fish of any kind. I prefer mine fresh. Maybe it was the skin and tiny backbones. I’m kind of “anti -“ on that front. Maybe it was the smell, which, no matter what it was marinated in or what I did to it (I tried to make a kind of “tuna-fish” type mess with the skinless ones, but it didn’t help), the smell always seemed to permeate up through my nostrils with every bite.
Maybe my love for fresh fish is the defining hurdle in the adventure. Maybe I should go to Italy and try me some un-smoked sardines fresh from the warm Mediterranean Sea. Nah. They eat it with the head still on.
How am I going to get kids to eat this? Let me rephrase that. How am I going to get American kids to eat this? Maybe I’ll just say, “C.S. Lewis has sardines on toast in his book and J.K. Rowling has kippers in hers (same thing, sort of, as sardines). If you can handle it, more power to ya! As for me, I’ll stick to tuna.”
Monday, January 18, 2010
Those tamales had better be good!
So here we are, the beginning of a new year. I suppose I could be thrilled what with a “clean slate” and all, but considering what happened New Years Eve, I’m thinking I may want to stay in bed for a year. Or two. Rip van Winkle’s looking a right genius about now. (Ok, I watch too much British TV!) Nothing bad happened that night, really. Yes, I had to work, but I was out of there by 11:30. No problem. Wasn’t going anywhere anyway. It was the food that ruined it all.
As in any restaurant, ours has it’s own group of Latinos. I say ‘Latino’ because I learned, the hard way unfortunately, that not all of them are from Mexico. Anyway, one of the Ladies brought in a batch of tamales that she had worked on all day the previous day. I was excited. Being from Arizona I’ve had my share of freshly steamed tamales. And good ones too! These were not good ones.
First, they were chicken, which is not a bad thing, really. Tamales can be stuffed with anything. But pork is traditional and best. However, it is necessary to make sure the chicken is skinless, boneless, and most importantly, grizzle-less. Nothing ruins a gastronomic experience more than biting into something inedible like cartilage. The chicken was bland too. No seasoning whatsoever. And that wasn’t even the worst part. It was the first time I had ever had tamales wrapped in banana leaves instead of corn husks.
Now, I can see using banana leaves if you were stuffing your tamales with Jamaican jerk chicken, or, dare I say, bananas. It just didn’t work for me. The masa had almost a slimy texture with an aftertaste of banana that I can only assume came from the leaves. It was not a flavor I was expecting in a savory dish. If I was doing a kind of Baja style tamale stuffed with papaya and shrimp, now that would be good wrapped in banana leaves!
But, like I said, I’m used to the more traditional tamales stuffed with pork, or in Spanish, carnitas. I’m talking about the kind that cooks for hours and hours. In the U.S.‘s Deep South, pork roasts are smoked at about 225-250° for at least six hours or so, until it falls apart to the touch. I like to wrap my seasoned roasts twice in plastic wrap (Don’t worry. The plastic doesn’t melt) and twice more in foil and then I roast it in the oven for six hours.
Another way is to put the pork in a large heavy pot, add one orange, cut in half, one white onion, peeled and cut in half and either three or four dried chipotle chilies, or, if you want some heat, a whole can of chipotles. You then add just enough cola to cover the pork. Any cola will do. Even Dr. Pepper! I once used Cherry Coke. You can also use root beer or just plain water with a cup of brown sugar. Bring this all to a boil, cover and reduce the heat to low and cook for three hours. Carefully pull the pork out (it will fall apart!) and shred it with some forks, throwing away any grizzle. Drain the liquid and return the pulled pork to marinade for a day.
Now for the masa. Masa harina can now be found in any supermarket in the Mexican aisle. It’s not just any kind of flour, but is actually finely ground corn meal. Here’s a recipe my mother learned from some Mexican friends in our Phoenix neighborhood.
4 ½ C masa harina
½ tsp cumin
1 T red chili powder
3 C broth (beef, chicken or veg or a combo)
1 C lard or shortening (not butter!)
2 tsp salt
4 tsp baking powder
In a large bowl, combine the first four ingredients together. In a mixer, beat together the remaining three ingredients. Add the masa mixture and continue to beat until smooth.
Soak the corn husks in warm water for 20-30 minutes. When the masa is ready, pat the husks dry. Spread a spoonful of the masa on the husks and place a little pork down the middle. Carefully wrap the husks, pulling the ends in like a burro (I say burro, not burrito!). Stand the tamales up on end in a steamer and steam for 30 minutes.
You can make this easier by spreading some masa and pork on a sheet of greased wax paper and rolling it up and chilling it for a few hours. Then you just unroll it and cut it into pieces big enough for the husks. Less messy that way, I think!
Here’s a variation that I think would have worked well with banana leaves : use blue corn meal instead of masa harina, 2 T brown sugar instead of cumin and chili powder, and fruit instead of pork. Try some prickly pear cactus fruit! Bananas would be ok....I suppose
As in any restaurant, ours has it’s own group of Latinos. I say ‘Latino’ because I learned, the hard way unfortunately, that not all of them are from Mexico. Anyway, one of the Ladies brought in a batch of tamales that she had worked on all day the previous day. I was excited. Being from Arizona I’ve had my share of freshly steamed tamales. And good ones too! These were not good ones.
First, they were chicken, which is not a bad thing, really. Tamales can be stuffed with anything. But pork is traditional and best. However, it is necessary to make sure the chicken is skinless, boneless, and most importantly, grizzle-less. Nothing ruins a gastronomic experience more than biting into something inedible like cartilage. The chicken was bland too. No seasoning whatsoever. And that wasn’t even the worst part. It was the first time I had ever had tamales wrapped in banana leaves instead of corn husks.
Now, I can see using banana leaves if you were stuffing your tamales with Jamaican jerk chicken, or, dare I say, bananas. It just didn’t work for me. The masa had almost a slimy texture with an aftertaste of banana that I can only assume came from the leaves. It was not a flavor I was expecting in a savory dish. If I was doing a kind of Baja style tamale stuffed with papaya and shrimp, now that would be good wrapped in banana leaves!
But, like I said, I’m used to the more traditional tamales stuffed with pork, or in Spanish, carnitas. I’m talking about the kind that cooks for hours and hours. In the U.S.‘s Deep South, pork roasts are smoked at about 225-250° for at least six hours or so, until it falls apart to the touch. I like to wrap my seasoned roasts twice in plastic wrap (Don’t worry. The plastic doesn’t melt) and twice more in foil and then I roast it in the oven for six hours.
Another way is to put the pork in a large heavy pot, add one orange, cut in half, one white onion, peeled and cut in half and either three or four dried chipotle chilies, or, if you want some heat, a whole can of chipotles. You then add just enough cola to cover the pork. Any cola will do. Even Dr. Pepper! I once used Cherry Coke. You can also use root beer or just plain water with a cup of brown sugar. Bring this all to a boil, cover and reduce the heat to low and cook for three hours. Carefully pull the pork out (it will fall apart!) and shred it with some forks, throwing away any grizzle. Drain the liquid and return the pulled pork to marinade for a day.
Now for the masa. Masa harina can now be found in any supermarket in the Mexican aisle. It’s not just any kind of flour, but is actually finely ground corn meal. Here’s a recipe my mother learned from some Mexican friends in our Phoenix neighborhood.
4 ½ C masa harina
½ tsp cumin
1 T red chili powder
3 C broth (beef, chicken or veg or a combo)
1 C lard or shortening (not butter!)
2 tsp salt
4 tsp baking powder
In a large bowl, combine the first four ingredients together. In a mixer, beat together the remaining three ingredients. Add the masa mixture and continue to beat until smooth.
Soak the corn husks in warm water for 20-30 minutes. When the masa is ready, pat the husks dry. Spread a spoonful of the masa on the husks and place a little pork down the middle. Carefully wrap the husks, pulling the ends in like a burro (I say burro, not burrito!). Stand the tamales up on end in a steamer and steam for 30 minutes.
You can make this easier by spreading some masa and pork on a sheet of greased wax paper and rolling it up and chilling it for a few hours. Then you just unroll it and cut it into pieces big enough for the husks. Less messy that way, I think!
Here’s a variation that I think would have worked well with banana leaves : use blue corn meal instead of masa harina, 2 T brown sugar instead of cumin and chili powder, and fruit instead of pork. Try some prickly pear cactus fruit! Bananas would be ok....I suppose
Saturday, December 12, 2009
TWELVE DRUMMERS!!!!!!!
Here it is, the twelfth day! The grand finale! What am I going to do with myself after this? Go shopping! For food. Yeah. That’s it. Food. It’s been an interesting week and a half and I can honestly say, I’ll never do it again! At least not until next Christmas. I have a year to work it out. If I do decide to do it, I’ll try and make it more festive. Maybe. I’ll think about it.
Actually I’m more worried about what happens on the first day after Christmas. Few know (besides a few choir geeks) that there is an aftermath. There is a song that tells about what happens when she has a fight with her ‘true love’ :
On the first day after Christmas
My true love and I had a fight
And so I chopped the pear tree down
And burned it just for spite
And with a single ca-a-a-a-artridge
I shot that blasted pa-a-a-artridge
My true love gave to me
On the second day after Christmas
I pulled on the old rubber gloves
And very gently rung the necks
Of both the turtledoves
My true love gave to me
On the third day after Christmas
My mother caught the coup
I had to use the three French hens
To make some chicken soup (there’s my soup!)
The four calling birds were completely fake
For their language was obscene
The five golden rings were completely fake
For they turned my fingers green
On the sixth day after Christmas
The six laying geese wouldn’t lay
I gave the whole darn gaggle to
The ASPCA
On the seventh day what a mess I found
All seven of the swimming swans had drowned
My true love, my true love, my true love gave to me
On the eighth day after Christmas
Before they could suspect
I bundled up the -
Eight maids a’miling
Nine ladies dancing
Ten lords a’ leaping
Eleven pipers piping
Twelve drummers drumming
(Well, actually she kept one of the drummers. It has to be a drummer. It’s always the drummer…never the bass player)
And sent them back collect
I wrote my true love
“We are through, love”
And I said in so many words
“Further more your Christmas gifts were for the…birds!” (I knew it! Too much fowl!)
Funny song. Anyway. So what made me think of twelve drummers drumming? Meat Pies. Biscuits. Crumpets! Actually I thought of Crème Brule. It’s a delightful light baked custard topped with caramelized sugar. Totally reminds me of a drum. It is usually baked in small (about ½ - 1 cup) round white porcelain cups called ramekins (ram-uh-kin) in a hot water bath in the oven. They can also be baked in a square tin but then they wouldn’t be round, although I suppose you could cut rounds with a biscuit cutter but you’d have some waste. Awww…well waste not want not!
This is another Southwestern version of a French classic. Agave is a relative of the Yucca and is the main ingredient in tequila. Agave syrup is becoming increasingly more available as a healthy alternative to sugar and corn syrup. You should be able to find it in your local grocery store. If not, try a health food store like Sunflower Market or The Good Earth.
For the drumsticks I thought of tuile. Tuile is French for ‘tile’. They are thin cookies that are either laid over the bottom of an upturned glass while it’s still warm and pliable, to make a little cup, or over a rolling pin to make curved cookies that go great with ice cream. You could always use Pepperidge Farms Pirouettes.
Twelve Drummers Drumming
Agave Crème Brule with Pine Nut Tuile Drumsticks
Crème Brule :
½ C whole milk
1 pint heavy cream
½ C Agave Syrup
2 oz tequila (optional)
3 eggs, separated
In a saucepan, bring the liquids just to a boil on medium high heat. Remove from the heat and let sit until at least room temperature.
Place four round ramekins in a large casserole dish. Pour water into the casserole dish until about ¾ from the top of the ramekins. Remove the ramekins and place the water dish in the oven. Preheat the oven to 300°.
Beat the 3 egg yolks and whisk into the cooled custard mix. Pour into the ramekins and place them in the hot water bath in the oven and back until set or a toothpick in the center comes out clean, about 30 minutes. Remove carefully onto a towel on the countertop. Sprinkle a little sugar even on the top of each on. A pastry chef will have a small butane torch to caramelize the sugar and you can buy one online, but one of those lighter wands should do the trick. The sugar will bubble and turn brown when it is done.
Pine Nut Tuile Drumsticks :
1/3 C flour
½ C plus 2 T granulated sugar
Dash salt
3 egg whites (reserved from Crème Brule)
2 ½ T melted unsalted butter
½ cup toasted pine nuts, chopped fine
Milk
Sift the flour, sugar, and salt into a small mixing bowl. Add the egg whites and melted butter chopped pine nuts and whisk until just combined. Don’t over mix. Set aside and let rest for about 1 - 1 ½ hours.
Preheat oven to 350°. Place some parchment paper on a cookie sheet and grease well with butter or cooking spray. Spoon about 1 tsp of the mix onto the cookie sheet. You’ll need at least 8 drumsticks. Place them about 2 inches apart. Pour a little milk into a bowl. Dipping your finger into the milk, gently spread the batter until thin and even, about 1 inch round or so.
Bake for 5-8 minutes or until the edges are golden and the centers are beginning to brown. Remove the cookies. As soon as they are cool enough to touch, but still warm, carefully roll them into sticks. They will harden as they cool. If they start to get hard, just put them in the oven for a minute or so and they will soften up.
So there you have it. Twelve days of culinary delight! I Hope. If I’m feeling up to it, my next post just might be my Christmas menu.
Actually I’m more worried about what happens on the first day after Christmas. Few know (besides a few choir geeks) that there is an aftermath. There is a song that tells about what happens when she has a fight with her ‘true love’ :
On the first day after Christmas
My true love and I had a fight
And so I chopped the pear tree down
And burned it just for spite
And with a single ca-a-a-a-artridge
I shot that blasted pa-a-a-artridge
My true love gave to me
On the second day after Christmas
I pulled on the old rubber gloves
And very gently rung the necks
Of both the turtledoves
My true love gave to me
On the third day after Christmas
My mother caught the coup
I had to use the three French hens
To make some chicken soup (there’s my soup!)
The four calling birds were completely fake
For their language was obscene
The five golden rings were completely fake
For they turned my fingers green
On the sixth day after Christmas
The six laying geese wouldn’t lay
I gave the whole darn gaggle to
The ASPCA
On the seventh day what a mess I found
All seven of the swimming swans had drowned
My true love, my true love, my true love gave to me
On the eighth day after Christmas
Before they could suspect
I bundled up the -
Eight maids a’miling
Nine ladies dancing
Ten lords a’ leaping
Eleven pipers piping
Twelve drummers drumming
(Well, actually she kept one of the drummers. It has to be a drummer. It’s always the drummer…never the bass player)
And sent them back collect
I wrote my true love
“We are through, love”
And I said in so many words
“Further more your Christmas gifts were for the…birds!” (I knew it! Too much fowl!)
Funny song. Anyway. So what made me think of twelve drummers drumming? Meat Pies. Biscuits. Crumpets! Actually I thought of Crème Brule. It’s a delightful light baked custard topped with caramelized sugar. Totally reminds me of a drum. It is usually baked in small (about ½ - 1 cup) round white porcelain cups called ramekins (ram-uh-kin) in a hot water bath in the oven. They can also be baked in a square tin but then they wouldn’t be round, although I suppose you could cut rounds with a biscuit cutter but you’d have some waste. Awww…well waste not want not!
This is another Southwestern version of a French classic. Agave is a relative of the Yucca and is the main ingredient in tequila. Agave syrup is becoming increasingly more available as a healthy alternative to sugar and corn syrup. You should be able to find it in your local grocery store. If not, try a health food store like Sunflower Market or The Good Earth.
For the drumsticks I thought of tuile. Tuile is French for ‘tile’. They are thin cookies that are either laid over the bottom of an upturned glass while it’s still warm and pliable, to make a little cup, or over a rolling pin to make curved cookies that go great with ice cream. You could always use Pepperidge Farms Pirouettes.
Twelve Drummers Drumming
Agave Crème Brule with Pine Nut Tuile Drumsticks
Crème Brule :
½ C whole milk
1 pint heavy cream
½ C Agave Syrup
2 oz tequila (optional)
3 eggs, separated
In a saucepan, bring the liquids just to a boil on medium high heat. Remove from the heat and let sit until at least room temperature.
Place four round ramekins in a large casserole dish. Pour water into the casserole dish until about ¾ from the top of the ramekins. Remove the ramekins and place the water dish in the oven. Preheat the oven to 300°.
Beat the 3 egg yolks and whisk into the cooled custard mix. Pour into the ramekins and place them in the hot water bath in the oven and back until set or a toothpick in the center comes out clean, about 30 minutes. Remove carefully onto a towel on the countertop. Sprinkle a little sugar even on the top of each on. A pastry chef will have a small butane torch to caramelize the sugar and you can buy one online, but one of those lighter wands should do the trick. The sugar will bubble and turn brown when it is done.
Pine Nut Tuile Drumsticks :
1/3 C flour
½ C plus 2 T granulated sugar
Dash salt
3 egg whites (reserved from Crème Brule)
2 ½ T melted unsalted butter
½ cup toasted pine nuts, chopped fine
Milk
Sift the flour, sugar, and salt into a small mixing bowl. Add the egg whites and melted butter chopped pine nuts and whisk until just combined. Don’t over mix. Set aside and let rest for about 1 - 1 ½ hours.
Preheat oven to 350°. Place some parchment paper on a cookie sheet and grease well with butter or cooking spray. Spoon about 1 tsp of the mix onto the cookie sheet. You’ll need at least 8 drumsticks. Place them about 2 inches apart. Pour a little milk into a bowl. Dipping your finger into the milk, gently spread the batter until thin and even, about 1 inch round or so.
Bake for 5-8 minutes or until the edges are golden and the centers are beginning to brown. Remove the cookies. As soon as they are cool enough to touch, but still warm, carefully roll them into sticks. They will harden as they cool. If they start to get hard, just put them in the oven for a minute or so and they will soften up.
So there you have it. Twelve days of culinary delight! I Hope. If I’m feeling up to it, my next post just might be my Christmas menu.
Friday, December 11, 2009
Eleven Pipers Piping
Ah, finally an obvious day. I had no problem at all coming up with something piping, although cake decorating is out. It’s fun but not much I can do in the way of writing about it. I could’ve done cannelloni or manicotti or perhaps some stuffed giant seashell pasta. I could’ve done something more festive, like éclairs perhaps, but those are easy to mess up as my friend Lexy found out a couple months ago.
Honestly, though, I didn’t think twice about it. None of those ideas ever crossed my mind. It was always going to be cannoli. There’s only one problem. Well, two actually. I have yet to find a cannoli recipe that doesn’t require cannoli pipes to wrap the dough around. The other is the fact that I have never made cannoli before. I’ve seen it done but that’s about it.
But should that stop me? Nope. I found this recipe by Mario Batali online and I‘ve adapted it to give it my own personal Southwestern touch. Normally I’m leery of TV chefs. It’s all about keeping up appearances with them, and that can get very annoying. But anyone who roams around Spain with Gwyneth Paltrow is aces in my book!
Eleven Pipers Piping
Prickly Pear Cactus Fruit Crème Stuffed Cannoli
Shells :
2 cups all-purpose flour
¼ teaspoon ground cinnamon
1 teaspoon sugar
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
6 tablespoons Marsala wine (or substitute 4 T apple juice and 2 T grape juice)
Filling :
1 lbs ricotta cheese
¼ c lemon juice
1 5 oz jar Cactus Jelly
1 egg white, lightly beaten
2 quarts canola oil, for frying
Powdered sugar, for dusting
To make the shells: Mix together the dry ingredients and cut in butter with 2 knives. Add the Marsala (or fruit juices) and shape the dough into a ball. Wrap tightly in plastic and refrigerate.
Heat 2 quarts canola oil in 3 ½ quart pot to 360° - 375° F.
To make the filling : In a mixing bowl, stir together the ricotta, lemon juice and jelly until well combined. Spoon the filling into a pastry bag with an open tip, and place the bag in the refrigerator.
Remove the dough from the refrigerator and divide into 4 equal pieces. Using a rolling pin, roll 1 piece onto flat surface until it measures 1/16-inch thick. Using a cookie cutter or a sharp knife, cut the dough into 4-inch circles. Using a rolling pin, elongate the circles into ovals.
Wrap the ovals lengthwise around the metal cannoli tubes (or anything similar that is sanitary and won’t melt in the oil). Using your fingertips, seal the edges shut with egg whites. Use your fingertips to flare the ends open.
Working in small batches, carefully lift the cannoli shells and place them in the hot oil. Fry the shells until golden brown on both sides, about 2 -3 minutes. Using a slotted spoon or spatula, remove the finished shells to a plate lined with paper towels. Drain on paper towels as they cook.
When the shells are cool enough to touch, carefully twist the molds away from the shells. Shells may be made 1 day in advance and rest unfilled and uncovered. When ready to eat, stuff cannoli with cactus fruit crème, dust with powdered sugar.
Honestly, though, I didn’t think twice about it. None of those ideas ever crossed my mind. It was always going to be cannoli. There’s only one problem. Well, two actually. I have yet to find a cannoli recipe that doesn’t require cannoli pipes to wrap the dough around. The other is the fact that I have never made cannoli before. I’ve seen it done but that’s about it.
But should that stop me? Nope. I found this recipe by Mario Batali online and I‘ve adapted it to give it my own personal Southwestern touch. Normally I’m leery of TV chefs. It’s all about keeping up appearances with them, and that can get very annoying. But anyone who roams around Spain with Gwyneth Paltrow is aces in my book!
Eleven Pipers Piping
Prickly Pear Cactus Fruit Crème Stuffed Cannoli
Shells :
2 cups all-purpose flour
¼ teaspoon ground cinnamon
1 teaspoon sugar
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
6 tablespoons Marsala wine (or substitute 4 T apple juice and 2 T grape juice)
Filling :
1 lbs ricotta cheese
¼ c lemon juice
1 5 oz jar Cactus Jelly
1 egg white, lightly beaten
2 quarts canola oil, for frying
Powdered sugar, for dusting
To make the shells: Mix together the dry ingredients and cut in butter with 2 knives. Add the Marsala (or fruit juices) and shape the dough into a ball. Wrap tightly in plastic and refrigerate.
Heat 2 quarts canola oil in 3 ½ quart pot to 360° - 375° F.
To make the filling : In a mixing bowl, stir together the ricotta, lemon juice and jelly until well combined. Spoon the filling into a pastry bag with an open tip, and place the bag in the refrigerator.
Remove the dough from the refrigerator and divide into 4 equal pieces. Using a rolling pin, roll 1 piece onto flat surface until it measures 1/16-inch thick. Using a cookie cutter or a sharp knife, cut the dough into 4-inch circles. Using a rolling pin, elongate the circles into ovals.
Wrap the ovals lengthwise around the metal cannoli tubes (or anything similar that is sanitary and won’t melt in the oil). Using your fingertips, seal the edges shut with egg whites. Use your fingertips to flare the ends open.
Working in small batches, carefully lift the cannoli shells and place them in the hot oil. Fry the shells until golden brown on both sides, about 2 -3 minutes. Using a slotted spoon or spatula, remove the finished shells to a plate lined with paper towels. Drain on paper towels as they cook.
When the shells are cool enough to touch, carefully twist the molds away from the shells. Shells may be made 1 day in advance and rest unfilled and uncovered. When ready to eat, stuff cannoli with cactus fruit crème, dust with powdered sugar.
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