It's all Mark Bittman's fault. I was trying to download his video about kasha and varnishkes from the New York Times site, but it got hung up at the same spot three times. I decided to venture forth anyway, and while I was at it, do a bit of a variation on the kosher dish he was trying to recreate from his childhood.
There is a vegetable market in Vancouver, Wash., owned by Russians. They cater to their countrymen and other bargain hunters. Among the items I snagged there was a bag of buckwheat groats --- kasha. I thought I might try to grind the kasha into flour for buckwheat sourdough pancakes.
The package has languished on the shelf at least six months. The Bittman bit got me reminiscing about the Lower East Side and the ethnic restaurants I used to patronize when I lived in New York City. The cuisine of Alphabet City cafes then tended toward comfort food from the Ukraine and Eastern European Ashkenazis, also Russians who hadn't yet made it to Brooklyn. Kasha and varnishkes was the side dish that occasionally was offered, and it was tasty.
According to Bittman before his image fragmented into nothingness, onions are semi-caramelized in a heavy Dutch oven. Also, kasha is toasted after being anointed with beaten egg (I used Eggbeaters). I managed to accomplish the task in a heavy cast iron skillet, using about two cups of buckwheat groats. He used schmaltz; I used 2 tsp. of canola.
On the back burner simmered about a quart of broth including gleanings from a batch of chicken soup fortified with canned broth, plus some dried and canned shiitake and mixed mushrooms and cooked celery and carrot pieces from the soup.
I know it's not especially kosher, but I added a half cup of white wine to the mushroom/stock mixture. I also minced two cloves of garlic into the giant sweet onion that was softening with the splash of white wine. As the onions became soft, I threw in the kasha, plus about a cup and a half of uncooked multi-colored bowtie pasta. Then I poured the broth and vegetable mixture into the contents of the dutch oven. I covered it and baked it in the oven at 350 about 40 minutes.
Meanwhile, not wanting to waste oven heat and feeling the need for additional protein, I opened a can of Alaska salmon. After draining the liquid (I used to give it to the cat but now she turns up her nose), I removed the bones and skin, crushed four multi-grain crackers into the loaf pan, adding a few panko crumbs and the two-egg equivalent of Eggbeaters, plus onion powder, garlic, a tsp. of dillweed, about a half tsp. of parsley, some chives and a little Spanish smoked paprika. The loaf pan joined the kasha casserole in the oven; they came out about the same time.
Mom pronounced the meal "unusual but good." Not bad for a Monday night supper.
Monday, December 12, 2011
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Thankfully and collectively speaking
This Thanksgiving was spent both alone and at a community gathering --- Mom was in Baker City and both vehicles were not in shape to safely convey me to my sister's gathering near Eugene. The afternoon was instead spent in the company of a cross-section of local humanity invited to share a potluck repast, from homeless David with his faithful dog tied up out front, who helped scrape the plates after dinner, to congenial table companions including my old boss, who helped out afterward with the dishes. All were brought together through the tireless generosity and ingenuity of a supermarket checker and her friends, some recruited from the checkout line. She has done a community dinner several years now, inviting all who wish to participate. The lower level at the American Legion Hall was packed and everyone had plenty to share, followed by a surfeit of Bingo. A tweaker and her boyfriend pecked at the delicious repast at the back of the hall. A notorious child molester was there with her former victim-turned-husband and his sundry family members, she wearing overalls and hair recently chopped and dyed a violent fuschia. Two sheriff's deputies were loading up plates to go, with the engine running and their radio sharing 911 dispatches in the parking lot. The spread included at least three platters of turkey, five kinds of dressing, four variations on cranberry sauce, vegetables, salads and enough pumpkin pie for all.
Although dinner was advertised as beginning at 2:30 p.m., everyone was digging in at 2:25 when I arrived in the pouring rain, bearing my contributions in cardboard boxes covered with kitchen towels. I brought a green tomato mincemeat upside-down cake with roast pears and apples, still warm from the oven; oven-roasted spicy cauliflower with a dash of harissa and Spanish smoked paprika; olives; and a wild rice/brown basmati and wild mushroom pilaf.
We ate some of the leftovers again today for Sunday dinner, with oven-roasted parsnips and a half an Alaskan king salmon that had loitered in the freezer, baked in a mixture of my sister's mustard/honey glaze plus ginger, soy sauce, garlic and wine.
Pilaf on the Wild Side
This aromatic pilaf was made with basmati brown rice and wild rice, several kinds of mushrooms, sunchokes/Jerusalem artichokes from my garden, shallots, chicken broth, and toasted pecans.
It can be made using fresh domestic and/or wild mushrooms, such as fresh crimini, button or portabellas, fresh or dried shiitakes, porcini, chanterelles, morels, or black trumpets in any combination. If using dried mushrooms, reconstitute by adding a little warm water, cover and microwave on medium heat 30 seconds. Let stand a minute, then uncover and chop, destemming shiitakes and saving the liquid. Kitchen scissors work great for this chore.
2 T. butter or olive oil, or combination of the two
1 tsp. dark sesame oil
3 chopped shallots
3 medium or 2 large Jerusalem artichokes/sunchokes, roughly chopped
1 cup basmati brown rice
1/2 cup wild rice
2-1/2 cups low salt chicken broth
1/2 cup mushroom soaking liquid, strained, or equal amount chicken broth, apple cider, or water
1/4 cup dry white wine (or add the same amount of other liquids)
2 T. soy sauce
2 good grinds black pepper
2 cloves garlic, put through press
1/2 cup chopped pecans, toasted lightly
Heat the butter/olive oil and sesame oil in an enamel dutch oven or heavy large saucepan, add mushrooms, chopped shallots, Jerusalem artichokes and garlic and stir for 1-2 minutes at high heat but do not totally brown. Add the wild and brown rice and continue to stir about 3 minutes, or until the rice is turning translucent. Add chicken broth, wine, mushroom soaking liquid and soy sauce, reduce heat and simmer covered on low about 45 minutes. Check rice for doneness, adding more liquid, if needed. Add toasted pecans and freshly ground pepper. Stir and cook another minute or two.
To toast nuts, spread in a single layer on a baking pan or cookie sheet. Toast in a 350° oven, stirring occasionally, 10 to 15 minutes. You could also toast them in an ungreased heavy skillet over medium heat, stirring until golden brown and aromatic, but watch them carefully and remove immediately from the pan.
Although dinner was advertised as beginning at 2:30 p.m., everyone was digging in at 2:25 when I arrived in the pouring rain, bearing my contributions in cardboard boxes covered with kitchen towels. I brought a green tomato mincemeat upside-down cake with roast pears and apples, still warm from the oven; oven-roasted spicy cauliflower with a dash of harissa and Spanish smoked paprika; olives; and a wild rice/brown basmati and wild mushroom pilaf.
We ate some of the leftovers again today for Sunday dinner, with oven-roasted parsnips and a half an Alaskan king salmon that had loitered in the freezer, baked in a mixture of my sister's mustard/honey glaze plus ginger, soy sauce, garlic and wine.
Pilaf on the Wild Side
This aromatic pilaf was made with basmati brown rice and wild rice, several kinds of mushrooms, sunchokes/Jerusalem artichokes from my garden, shallots, chicken broth, and toasted pecans.
It can be made using fresh domestic and/or wild mushrooms, such as fresh crimini, button or portabellas, fresh or dried shiitakes, porcini, chanterelles, morels, or black trumpets in any combination. If using dried mushrooms, reconstitute by adding a little warm water, cover and microwave on medium heat 30 seconds. Let stand a minute, then uncover and chop, destemming shiitakes and saving the liquid. Kitchen scissors work great for this chore.
2 T. butter or olive oil, or combination of the two
1 tsp. dark sesame oil
3 chopped shallots
3 medium or 2 large Jerusalem artichokes/sunchokes, roughly chopped
1 cup basmati brown rice
1/2 cup wild rice
2-1/2 cups low salt chicken broth
1/2 cup mushroom soaking liquid, strained, or equal amount chicken broth, apple cider, or water
1/4 cup dry white wine (or add the same amount of other liquids)
2 T. soy sauce
2 good grinds black pepper
2 cloves garlic, put through press
1/2 cup chopped pecans, toasted lightly
Heat the butter/olive oil and sesame oil in an enamel dutch oven or heavy large saucepan, add mushrooms, chopped shallots, Jerusalem artichokes and garlic and stir for 1-2 minutes at high heat but do not totally brown. Add the wild and brown rice and continue to stir about 3 minutes, or until the rice is turning translucent. Add chicken broth, wine, mushroom soaking liquid and soy sauce, reduce heat and simmer covered on low about 45 minutes. Check rice for doneness, adding more liquid, if needed. Add toasted pecans and freshly ground pepper. Stir and cook another minute or two.
To toast nuts, spread in a single layer on a baking pan or cookie sheet. Toast in a 350° oven, stirring occasionally, 10 to 15 minutes. You could also toast them in an ungreased heavy skillet over medium heat, stirring until golden brown and aromatic, but watch them carefully and remove immediately from the pan.
Sunday, October 9, 2011
Phyllo redux
I just removed an apple tart from the oven, something quite improvised that satisfies on a number of levels. I downloaded a recipe for a low-fat apple tart that uses phyllo dough, plus a homemade syrup to replace the usual butter and sugar.
I had the apples sliced and ready to go, but the phyllo dough I had removed from the freezer to thaw slightly was obviously over the hill. It refused to unroll in sheets, instead tearing into parchment fragments.
Undeterred, I placed the shards in the bottom of the glass pie plate to cover the surface and poured part of my already prepared syrup over it. The syrup contained:
1/3 cup Da Vinci sugar-free pumpkin pie syrup with Splenda
1/3 cup sugar-free maple syrup with Splenda
1/4 cup agave syrup
1 tsp. cinnamon
1/2 tsp. freshly ground nutmeg
1/2 tsp. dried lemon zest
1/3 cup white wine
I placed 4 cored and sliced apples as the medium layer, then managed to cover the top with 3-4 semi-intact pieces of phyllo that had thawed after they still remained sealed in a waxed paper cylinder in the badly outdated phyllo box.
I tucked them in over the apples slices and poured the remaining syrup over them, tucking in the edges and adding a few squiggles of Smart Squeeze, which I refer to as "faux butter."
Into the oven it went at 350 for about 25 minutes. I checked it, and cranked up the temperature the last 10 minutes to 375.
It had browned, and the ingredients had melded with the other ingredients to form a delightfully rich cohesion. A spoonful of Umpqua low-fat vanilla ice cream with Splenda was added while still warm. Ersatz sin.
I tried something similar with phyllo last Thanksgiving using home-canned green tomato mincemeat. However, the syrup component was not yet in play, and it was a bit dry and pasty.
Now I have a magic combination to try. While there are not enough green tomatoes this year to attempt another batch of green tomato mincemeat, I have two remaining pints lurking on the shelf. They will be sacrificed.
I had the apples sliced and ready to go, but the phyllo dough I had removed from the freezer to thaw slightly was obviously over the hill. It refused to unroll in sheets, instead tearing into parchment fragments.
Undeterred, I placed the shards in the bottom of the glass pie plate to cover the surface and poured part of my already prepared syrup over it. The syrup contained:
1/3 cup Da Vinci sugar-free pumpkin pie syrup with Splenda
1/3 cup sugar-free maple syrup with Splenda
1/4 cup agave syrup
1 tsp. cinnamon
1/2 tsp. freshly ground nutmeg
1/2 tsp. dried lemon zest
1/3 cup white wine
I placed 4 cored and sliced apples as the medium layer, then managed to cover the top with 3-4 semi-intact pieces of phyllo that had thawed after they still remained sealed in a waxed paper cylinder in the badly outdated phyllo box.
I tucked them in over the apples slices and poured the remaining syrup over them, tucking in the edges and adding a few squiggles of Smart Squeeze, which I refer to as "faux butter."
Into the oven it went at 350 for about 25 minutes. I checked it, and cranked up the temperature the last 10 minutes to 375.
It had browned, and the ingredients had melded with the other ingredients to form a delightfully rich cohesion. A spoonful of Umpqua low-fat vanilla ice cream with Splenda was added while still warm. Ersatz sin.
I tried something similar with phyllo last Thanksgiving using home-canned green tomato mincemeat. However, the syrup component was not yet in play, and it was a bit dry and pasty.
Now I have a magic combination to try. While there are not enough green tomatoes this year to attempt another batch of green tomato mincemeat, I have two remaining pints lurking on the shelf. They will be sacrificed.
Saturday, October 8, 2011
Nearing Thanksgiving....
It's almost Thanksgiving again, and another anniversary is nearing.
Pan back to 1982, Brooklyn. It's dark and cold as I walk home from the Park Slope subway stop. I have invited three people to share Thanksgiving dinner, but I have not yet bought a turkey or any of the trimmings due to work and time pressures. As I walk toward President Street, every mom and pop bodega is closed. My heart sinks with each echoing step. My roommate is in Pennsylvania with her parents. Rather than face my favorite holiday alone, I have invited a couple who were each my friends before they met and married, plus a new boyfriend I've known less than two weeks. I met him at the insistence of my girlfriend, who said he was “spiritual.” He is shiny bald when he finally takes off his hat. I like him well enough, but he is moving a little too fast for me.
In despair over the turkey situation, I recall there is a 24-hour, seven-days-a-week Safeway, a 12-block walk into uncharted territory. At 10:30 p.m., I am willing to risk it. I reason as I scurry along that I will take a cab back, as I’ll have too much to carry. I can't afford a cab both directions and buy groceries, too. As I arrive, the manager is pulling down the metal gates and won't let me duck under to grab a few things. "This is the only night we close," he tells me. Now that I wish I had a cab, none are around.
I brace myself for the cold walk back, and see predatory shadows near the store. Launching myself toward home, my senses are on high alert. I manage to negotiate the first couple of blocks safely, but there are four or five of them, and they are dangerous young wolves, circling as they close in. I duck into a house turned apartment building with an unlocked front door, crouching below the window in the foyer. They search nearby yards and doorways. Unable to get past the inside door, trapped, I ring doorbells at random. Finally, a man in a bathrobe comes downstairs and I explain the situation. He agrees to call me a cab, and I wait, crouching and shivering until it comes. Home never felt better.
The next morning, a neighborhood grocery offers two chickens and other provisions. I set to work making sweet potato and apple pies, yeast rolls, cranberry sauce with orange and ginger, real whipped cream and cornbread stuffing from scratch. As the oldest of seven children with grandmothers from Kansas and Missouri, I can cook.
The potatoes are mashed when he arrives nearly an hour late. He plops himself in front of the TV and turns on a football game as I work. At 3 p.m., it is clear my friends are not showing, and we begin to eat when the phone rings. Miriam is calling from a subway station. They have had an on-platform shouting match; he is going to his mother's. I ask her to join us, but she is too upset.
We save the pie for later. He settles in front of his football game while I wash dishes. No offer of help from him; he doesn’t even carry his dishes to the sink. After a decidedly unspiritual remark about the Dallas Cowboy cheerleaders, something snaps. Still in my apron, I hand him his hat and point him down the stairs. He protests, "What about the pie?" He calls for a week, but I will not speak to him.
Every year at Thanksgiving, I acknowledge yet another notch on an ever-tightening chastity belt. I seem to have lost the knack.
Pan back to 1982, Brooklyn. It's dark and cold as I walk home from the Park Slope subway stop. I have invited three people to share Thanksgiving dinner, but I have not yet bought a turkey or any of the trimmings due to work and time pressures. As I walk toward President Street, every mom and pop bodega is closed. My heart sinks with each echoing step. My roommate is in Pennsylvania with her parents. Rather than face my favorite holiday alone, I have invited a couple who were each my friends before they met and married, plus a new boyfriend I've known less than two weeks. I met him at the insistence of my girlfriend, who said he was “spiritual.” He is shiny bald when he finally takes off his hat. I like him well enough, but he is moving a little too fast for me.
In despair over the turkey situation, I recall there is a 24-hour, seven-days-a-week Safeway, a 12-block walk into uncharted territory. At 10:30 p.m., I am willing to risk it. I reason as I scurry along that I will take a cab back, as I’ll have too much to carry. I can't afford a cab both directions and buy groceries, too. As I arrive, the manager is pulling down the metal gates and won't let me duck under to grab a few things. "This is the only night we close," he tells me. Now that I wish I had a cab, none are around.
I brace myself for the cold walk back, and see predatory shadows near the store. Launching myself toward home, my senses are on high alert. I manage to negotiate the first couple of blocks safely, but there are four or five of them, and they are dangerous young wolves, circling as they close in. I duck into a house turned apartment building with an unlocked front door, crouching below the window in the foyer. They search nearby yards and doorways. Unable to get past the inside door, trapped, I ring doorbells at random. Finally, a man in a bathrobe comes downstairs and I explain the situation. He agrees to call me a cab, and I wait, crouching and shivering until it comes. Home never felt better.
The next morning, a neighborhood grocery offers two chickens and other provisions. I set to work making sweet potato and apple pies, yeast rolls, cranberry sauce with orange and ginger, real whipped cream and cornbread stuffing from scratch. As the oldest of seven children with grandmothers from Kansas and Missouri, I can cook.
The potatoes are mashed when he arrives nearly an hour late. He plops himself in front of the TV and turns on a football game as I work. At 3 p.m., it is clear my friends are not showing, and we begin to eat when the phone rings. Miriam is calling from a subway station. They have had an on-platform shouting match; he is going to his mother's. I ask her to join us, but she is too upset.
We save the pie for later. He settles in front of his football game while I wash dishes. No offer of help from him; he doesn’t even carry his dishes to the sink. After a decidedly unspiritual remark about the Dallas Cowboy cheerleaders, something snaps. Still in my apron, I hand him his hat and point him down the stairs. He protests, "What about the pie?" He calls for a week, but I will not speak to him.
Every year at Thanksgiving, I acknowledge yet another notch on an ever-tightening chastity belt. I seem to have lost the knack.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Stuffed Giant Zucchini
It finally happened. I picked a zucchini that qualified (barely) as a stuffer.
I had looked at everything in the garden, and I swear that particular fruit was only 6 inches long. It must be the 90 degree temperatures and my daily drenchings. The minute Mom saw it, she said, "You should stuff it." (Not a personal comment.) Within a half hour of picking it, I went to work:
Cook 3/4 cup of bulgur wheat (Bob's Red Mill) in a mixture of 1 cup each of chicken broth and water in a sauce pan, adding salt, 1 tsp. parsley, plus 1/2 tsp. each of dehydrated garlic and onion bits. Let it get to fluffy stage and pull it off the heat.
Meanwhile in another pot, start 4 slices of chopped turkey bacon and cook a mixture of finely shredded kale, chopped gai lan and/or other greens in a little chicken stock, totaling about 2 or so cups of greens after wilting. Continue to simmer on low while you:
Take the casings off two fresh Italian-style chicken (could be turkey) sausages and add the meat to a smaller non-stick skillet with half a finely chopped small onion and 2 cloves of chopped garlic.
Split the large zucchini, and place it however it fits cut side up in a large cast iron skillet or heavy roasting pan. Use a tablespoon to remove the pithy interior, leaving at least 3/4" of squash at the narrowest part of the walls of the squash. Salt the interior of the squash. Some moisture may surface; scoop it out.
Chop the innards, removing the larger hard seeds if there are any, and add to the sausage meat, letting the squash moisture cook off most of the way. Add the bulgur to the cooked meat/squash innards, plus about 2 cups of the greens and turkey bacon, draining most of the liquid from the greens before adding.
To the stuffing mixture, add 2 T. chopped chives, 5 leaves of shredded fresh basil, 1 tsp. fresh thyme leaves and an equal amount of fresh oregano and parsley (dried is okay, only use 1/2 tsp.), plus 2 tsp. smoked Spanish paprika (either hot or sweet), 1/2 tsp. applewood smoked salt and freshly ground pepper. Mix it all together.
Mound part of the mixture inside the zucchini, pausing to place 3-4 T. of shredded parmesan in the interior, and place the remainder of the stuffing once it is heaped on the zucchini along the sides of the baking pan/skillet, leaving the green sides of the zucchini to be exposed to the oven heat.
Place strips of mozzarella (I used a string cheese) atop each stuffed zucchini, then distribute the contents of a small 8-ounce can of tomato sauce over the pan's contents, with a final sprinkling of parmesan over the top.
Bake in a 325-degree oven around 45 minutes. Cover it with a lid or a tent of foil if it seems to be drying out toward the end. Test the thickest part of the squash for tenderness, and if it's done earlier, take it out. It was quite nuanced and the squash was tender. Served with roasted cornish hens stuffed with fresh herbs, it was a true Sunday dinner.
It happened yet again Tuesday. This time I picked two zucchini that qualified as stuffers, and as I had taken that road, I tried something a little different.
I mixed a little Eggbeaters with 3 T. or so of evaporated milk and a little salt (2-3 eggs beaten with a bit of milk would also work). I cut the overgrown zucchini into large strips (think jo-jo potato size) and dipped them in the egg. This was followed by a romp in a flat baking dish with a mixture of about 3/4 cup of Japanese panko crumbs mixed with 1/4 cup shredded parmesan, 1 tsp. garlic powder, 1/2 tsp. smoked paprika, 1/3 tsp. cajun spice mix, salt, pepper and a little dried basil and oregano.
The pieces were transferred to a large sheet pan sprayed with canola, with every attempt to keep the coating adhered to each piece.
The egg wash was mixed in with the leftover bulgur stuffing that had been spooned into a casserole dish and topped with the remainder of the panko mixture. All went into a 375 degree oven about 30-35 minutes. The leftover cornish game hen yielded a side of roasted meat. With the zucchini pieces crisped and disguised as something verboten and a spoonful or two of the newly recreated casserole, we had dinner.
I will continue to experiment with the panko crumb coating. I just read about a New York restaurant serving Northern Fried Chicken using a coating that is half flour, half matzo meal. Perhaps they are onto something.
I had looked at everything in the garden, and I swear that particular fruit was only 6 inches long. It must be the 90 degree temperatures and my daily drenchings. The minute Mom saw it, she said, "You should stuff it." (Not a personal comment.) Within a half hour of picking it, I went to work:
Cook 3/4 cup of bulgur wheat (Bob's Red Mill) in a mixture of 1 cup each of chicken broth and water in a sauce pan, adding salt, 1 tsp. parsley, plus 1/2 tsp. each of dehydrated garlic and onion bits. Let it get to fluffy stage and pull it off the heat.
Meanwhile in another pot, start 4 slices of chopped turkey bacon and cook a mixture of finely shredded kale, chopped gai lan and/or other greens in a little chicken stock, totaling about 2 or so cups of greens after wilting. Continue to simmer on low while you:
Take the casings off two fresh Italian-style chicken (could be turkey) sausages and add the meat to a smaller non-stick skillet with half a finely chopped small onion and 2 cloves of chopped garlic.
Split the large zucchini, and place it however it fits cut side up in a large cast iron skillet or heavy roasting pan. Use a tablespoon to remove the pithy interior, leaving at least 3/4" of squash at the narrowest part of the walls of the squash. Salt the interior of the squash. Some moisture may surface; scoop it out.
Chop the innards, removing the larger hard seeds if there are any, and add to the sausage meat, letting the squash moisture cook off most of the way. Add the bulgur to the cooked meat/squash innards, plus about 2 cups of the greens and turkey bacon, draining most of the liquid from the greens before adding.
To the stuffing mixture, add 2 T. chopped chives, 5 leaves of shredded fresh basil, 1 tsp. fresh thyme leaves and an equal amount of fresh oregano and parsley (dried is okay, only use 1/2 tsp.), plus 2 tsp. smoked Spanish paprika (either hot or sweet), 1/2 tsp. applewood smoked salt and freshly ground pepper. Mix it all together.
Mound part of the mixture inside the zucchini, pausing to place 3-4 T. of shredded parmesan in the interior, and place the remainder of the stuffing once it is heaped on the zucchini along the sides of the baking pan/skillet, leaving the green sides of the zucchini to be exposed to the oven heat.
Place strips of mozzarella (I used a string cheese) atop each stuffed zucchini, then distribute the contents of a small 8-ounce can of tomato sauce over the pan's contents, with a final sprinkling of parmesan over the top.
Bake in a 325-degree oven around 45 minutes. Cover it with a lid or a tent of foil if it seems to be drying out toward the end. Test the thickest part of the squash for tenderness, and if it's done earlier, take it out. It was quite nuanced and the squash was tender. Served with roasted cornish hens stuffed with fresh herbs, it was a true Sunday dinner.
It happened yet again Tuesday. This time I picked two zucchini that qualified as stuffers, and as I had taken that road, I tried something a little different.
I mixed a little Eggbeaters with 3 T. or so of evaporated milk and a little salt (2-3 eggs beaten with a bit of milk would also work). I cut the overgrown zucchini into large strips (think jo-jo potato size) and dipped them in the egg. This was followed by a romp in a flat baking dish with a mixture of about 3/4 cup of Japanese panko crumbs mixed with 1/4 cup shredded parmesan, 1 tsp. garlic powder, 1/2 tsp. smoked paprika, 1/3 tsp. cajun spice mix, salt, pepper and a little dried basil and oregano.
The pieces were transferred to a large sheet pan sprayed with canola, with every attempt to keep the coating adhered to each piece.
The egg wash was mixed in with the leftover bulgur stuffing that had been spooned into a casserole dish and topped with the remainder of the panko mixture. All went into a 375 degree oven about 30-35 minutes. The leftover cornish game hen yielded a side of roasted meat. With the zucchini pieces crisped and disguised as something verboten and a spoonful or two of the newly recreated casserole, we had dinner.
I will continue to experiment with the panko crumb coating. I just read about a New York restaurant serving Northern Fried Chicken using a coating that is half flour, half matzo meal. Perhaps they are onto something.
Monday, August 1, 2011
So Long...
It is a fait accompli --- I am now retired. Congress may or may not cut what will be my paltry living, (which I, in fact, had earned and salted away as surely as if it were a savings account, only to have it plundered). My fate as a senior citizen is in their grimy hands. The ladies at work insisted on an afternoon reception on my last day, just as I was in the final throes of getting out that final newspaper. They brought cake, potluck offerings, etc., and quite a few people dropped by as the afternoon progressed. I kept popping back into my office to crank out another paragraph or two.
I know you're not supposed to contribute to a party in your honor, but I had purchased a pile of pork in a moment of weakness and had to justify it, so I made a batch of crockpot posole. It was consumed before I managed to get any of it.
So Long Posole
3 pounds pork boneless sirloin chops, boneless pork country ribs or tenderloin (the latter has less fat but may not be as moist when fully cooked)
Cut the meat into 1" to 2" cubes. Brown in a heavy skillet with 2 T. canola oil in small batches, salting and peppering each batch, then adding each batch to a large crockpot set on high.
Add 1/2 cup chicken broth and a one-pint container of mild fresh salsa with cilantro to the crockpot.
When all the meat is browned and removed, add 1 large chopped onion and 1/2 a chopped sweet red pepper to the skillet to quickly soften and slightly brown.
Once all the vegetables are removed, use the fond with 1/3 cup dry white wine (not too oaky) to deglaze the pan.
Add to the crockpot with:
2 bay leaves
3 cloves garlic, chopped
1 small can Hatch green chiles from Trader Joe's
1 can white hominy, drained and rinsed twice (use a large can if you are feeding a large crowd)
1 tsp. smoked Spanish paprika (I use sweet, but hot is also okay)
1/2 tsp. ground cumin
1/2 tsp. smoked salt (optional, but check salt later if you don't use)
1 tsp. dried oregano (or several sprigs of fresh)
1 tsp. dried thyme (" " " ")
3 T. fresh cilantro, coarsely chopped
2 tsp. chopped chives
Set the crockpot on low. At first, it will seem dry, but liquid will form to make a thick stew. Simmer 3-4 hours on low. Check seasoning.
Serve in shallow bowls with warmed small corn tortillas, additional fresh salsa or red chili flakes, sour cream and/or a grated Mexican cheese blend.
This is actually a New Mexican version of a traditional dish. It isn't that spicy, and is suited for serving to people who can add their own heat if desired. If you want to make it hotter and more authentic, you could char and blister 2-3 large chiles (jalapenos, serranos or fresh Hatch chiles, if available) over an open flame or burner. Skin the peppers --- wear gloves or do not handle -- and deseed, chop, and add to the crockpot in place of the can of Hatch chiles. To stretch the meat further, you could add two ears of fresh corn cut off the cob or an equivalent amount of frozen corn.
A quote from Wikipedia, "According to research by the National Institute of Anthropology and History and the Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México, on these special occasions, the meat used in the pozole was human. After the prisoners were killed by having their hearts torn out in a ritual sacrifice, the rest of the body was chopped and cooked with corn. The meal was shared among the whole community as an act of religious communion. After the conquest, when cannibalism was banned, pork became the staple meat as it 'tasted very similar,' according to a Spanish priest."
I know you're not supposed to contribute to a party in your honor, but I had purchased a pile of pork in a moment of weakness and had to justify it, so I made a batch of crockpot posole. It was consumed before I managed to get any of it.
So Long Posole
3 pounds pork boneless sirloin chops, boneless pork country ribs or tenderloin (the latter has less fat but may not be as moist when fully cooked)
Cut the meat into 1" to 2" cubes. Brown in a heavy skillet with 2 T. canola oil in small batches, salting and peppering each batch, then adding each batch to a large crockpot set on high.
Add 1/2 cup chicken broth and a one-pint container of mild fresh salsa with cilantro to the crockpot.
When all the meat is browned and removed, add 1 large chopped onion and 1/2 a chopped sweet red pepper to the skillet to quickly soften and slightly brown.
Once all the vegetables are removed, use the fond with 1/3 cup dry white wine (not too oaky) to deglaze the pan.
Add to the crockpot with:
2 bay leaves
3 cloves garlic, chopped
1 small can Hatch green chiles from Trader Joe's
1 can white hominy, drained and rinsed twice (use a large can if you are feeding a large crowd)
1 tsp. smoked Spanish paprika (I use sweet, but hot is also okay)
1/2 tsp. ground cumin
1/2 tsp. smoked salt (optional, but check salt later if you don't use)
1 tsp. dried oregano (or several sprigs of fresh)
1 tsp. dried thyme (" " " ")
3 T. fresh cilantro, coarsely chopped
2 tsp. chopped chives
Set the crockpot on low. At first, it will seem dry, but liquid will form to make a thick stew. Simmer 3-4 hours on low. Check seasoning.
Serve in shallow bowls with warmed small corn tortillas, additional fresh salsa or red chili flakes, sour cream and/or a grated Mexican cheese blend.
This is actually a New Mexican version of a traditional dish. It isn't that spicy, and is suited for serving to people who can add their own heat if desired. If you want to make it hotter and more authentic, you could char and blister 2-3 large chiles (jalapenos, serranos or fresh Hatch chiles, if available) over an open flame or burner. Skin the peppers --- wear gloves or do not handle -- and deseed, chop, and add to the crockpot in place of the can of Hatch chiles. To stretch the meat further, you could add two ears of fresh corn cut off the cob or an equivalent amount of frozen corn.
A quote from Wikipedia, "According to research by the National Institute of Anthropology and History and the Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México, on these special occasions, the meat used in the pozole was human. After the prisoners were killed by having their hearts torn out in a ritual sacrifice, the rest of the body was chopped and cooked with corn. The meal was shared among the whole community as an act of religious communion. After the conquest, when cannibalism was banned, pork became the staple meat as it 'tasted very similar,' according to a Spanish priest."
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
We all scream...
As noted two postings ago, I have been experimenting with making ice creams and sorbets that are both low fat and sugar-free, using the Cuisinart ICE 21 I received as a birthday present.
Some observations:
An immersion blender is your friend.
Cure and store your finished frozen delight in the freezer in one of those large round storage containers with the screwtop lids. It keeps better and will be less icy.
If you are using real sugar for these recipes, lower the amount used by a tablespoon or two.
If it has gotten really hard in the freezer over time, put it in the microwave on a very low temperature (I use 6) for a minute or 90 seconds before dishing it up.
One packet unflavored gelatin dissolved in 3 T. water/juice in the microwave on low for 30 seconds and stirred into the ice cream mix before freezing will improve the texture and volume.
I have had success using Tillamook fat-free sour cream (no BST) to replace at least half the milk products in batches. Sometimes I also use canned evaporated milk or low-fat evaporated milk instead of fat free half and half. If it is not as critical that it have a low fat content, I use real half and half, which has an entirely different mouth feel. Hell, go with a mixture of half and half and real whipping cream, if your doctor will let you.
However, if you want a really creamy texture without the fat, you can make a cooked cornstarch pudding, then add the rest of the liquid or the fat-free sour cream after it cools, blending it well before freezing.
Never fill the cannister more than 2/3 full or it won't freeze with the volume and texture you want.
A Not-Quite-Naughty Pina Colada Sorbet
This would be even greater mixed with something (remembering that alcohol doesn't freeze well), so if you add rum or another alcoholic beverage, only add a little, or freeze a batch then blend it with the percentage wanted in each drink.
1 can low-fat coconut milk
1-1/2 cup fresh chopped pineapple
1 ripe banana
2/3 cup of erythritol (or xylitol. Splenda gives it a different consistency)
2 T. agave syrup
An immersion blender can be used to combine everything in the bowl, or use a regular blender.
Pour it into the pre-frozen cannister (make sure it's been in the freezer at least 24 hours and no liquid is sloshing around). Turn on the machine and freeze the mixture 25-30 minutes. Transfer into a large covered freezer container and ripen it at least 30 minutes. It becomes really hard in the freezer if left more than a few hours. Reblended a few days later with juice or a mixture of rum or other alcoholic beverage, it makes a really delicious creamy iced drink.
Cherry Vanilla Ice Cream
1-1/2 cups fat-free half and half, plus 1/2 cup 2 percent milk
2/3 cup erythritol
1/3 cup Eggbeaters, which is pasteurized and presents no salmonella danger.
1/2 tsp. salt, 1 tsp. vanilla
At least 1/2 pound pitted cherries. (Dark or Rainier cherries are fine. If they are sour pie cherries, add a little sweetener at this stage)
I often cook a little sugar-free juice first (cranberry mixes are fine) with a packet of unflavored gelatin, rather than water.
Add the seeded and chopped cherries and cook it a little longer. When I use the immersion blender a short time, some of the cherries stay chunky,which gives it a nice texture.
Strawberry Ice Cream
For a slightly more decadent frozen dessert:
2/3 of a pint of half-and-half, the real thing.
Blend it with an equal amount of fat-free half-and-half or milk, or use all half-and-half
2/3 cup of xylitol
1 envelope of unflavored gelatin, dissolved in a bit of water or juice
1 T. honey plus 1 T. agave, plus a dash of salt
1/4 cup of Eggbeaters
1 tsp. of vanilla
8-10 strawberries
Blend using an immersion or regular blender, leaving some sizeable chunks of berries.
This version expands to the top as it freezes, is creamier, and has the mouth feel of real ice cream. The leftovers made an incredible milkshake several days later.
The Best Yet Strawberry Ice Cream
9 ounces (two-thirds of a carton) of Tillamook non-fat sour cream
an equal amount (two-thirds of a can) of evaporated milk
2/3 cup xylitol (you could use erythritol)
2 T. of agave syrup
1 packet unflavored gelatin dissolved in water
1 tsp. of vanilla, a little salt
8 large fresh strawberries, quartered
2 T. of homemade sugar-free blackberry jam.
I didn't use Eggbeaters for this batch. I used the immersion blender again, but this time there were fewer large pieces of strawberry left. It doubled in volume and turned into a creamy berry frozen dessert with soft-serve consistency. Yum!
Chocolate Ice Cream
This batch was the best yet. Mom really loved it. Measurements are approximate, but here goes:
About 1/4 cup good quality non-alkali powdered dark cocoa
3 T. dutch cocoa powder
3 T. sugar-free cocoa drink mix
3 T. cornstarch
1 can fat-free evaporated milk
2/3 cup erythritol
1/4 tsp. salt
Mix in a heavy bottomed saucepan and cook, stirring constantly, until it thickens and turns more translucent. Cool it a bit.
Using an immersion blender or whisk, add:
2/3 cup fat-free Tillamook sour cream
1 tsp. good vanilla (Trader Joe's Tahitian bourbon is great)
1/2 tsp. cinnamon
1/3 cup 2 percent milk
Cool. Make sure it is all well-blended and cool to the touch before putting it in the ice cream freezer. Run it a good half hour, then transfer it into a container to ripen in the freezer.
Fruity Sherbet
Using an immersion blender, combine:
3-4 fresh seeded apricots, blended with 2/3 carton of fresh boysenberries/blackberries
1/2 cup Tillamook fat-free sour cream
1 cup two percent milk
2/3 cup erythritol
2 T. agave syrup, plus a pinch of salt
2/3 package of unflavored gelatin dissolved in liquid and cooked briefly in the microwave
1/4 tsp. grated dried lemon peel
This is so amazing - slightly tart yet rich and fruity. Mom and I just had some for dessert following a bowl of homemade minestrone. We are replete.
Some observations:
An immersion blender is your friend.
Cure and store your finished frozen delight in the freezer in one of those large round storage containers with the screwtop lids. It keeps better and will be less icy.
If you are using real sugar for these recipes, lower the amount used by a tablespoon or two.
If it has gotten really hard in the freezer over time, put it in the microwave on a very low temperature (I use 6) for a minute or 90 seconds before dishing it up.
One packet unflavored gelatin dissolved in 3 T. water/juice in the microwave on low for 30 seconds and stirred into the ice cream mix before freezing will improve the texture and volume.
I have had success using Tillamook fat-free sour cream (no BST) to replace at least half the milk products in batches. Sometimes I also use canned evaporated milk or low-fat evaporated milk instead of fat free half and half. If it is not as critical that it have a low fat content, I use real half and half, which has an entirely different mouth feel. Hell, go with a mixture of half and half and real whipping cream, if your doctor will let you.
However, if you want a really creamy texture without the fat, you can make a cooked cornstarch pudding, then add the rest of the liquid or the fat-free sour cream after it cools, blending it well before freezing.
Never fill the cannister more than 2/3 full or it won't freeze with the volume and texture you want.
A Not-Quite-Naughty Pina Colada Sorbet
This would be even greater mixed with something (remembering that alcohol doesn't freeze well), so if you add rum or another alcoholic beverage, only add a little, or freeze a batch then blend it with the percentage wanted in each drink.
1 can low-fat coconut milk
1-1/2 cup fresh chopped pineapple
1 ripe banana
2/3 cup of erythritol (or xylitol. Splenda gives it a different consistency)
2 T. agave syrup
An immersion blender can be used to combine everything in the bowl, or use a regular blender.
Pour it into the pre-frozen cannister (make sure it's been in the freezer at least 24 hours and no liquid is sloshing around). Turn on the machine and freeze the mixture 25-30 minutes. Transfer into a large covered freezer container and ripen it at least 30 minutes. It becomes really hard in the freezer if left more than a few hours. Reblended a few days later with juice or a mixture of rum or other alcoholic beverage, it makes a really delicious creamy iced drink.
Cherry Vanilla Ice Cream
1-1/2 cups fat-free half and half, plus 1/2 cup 2 percent milk
2/3 cup erythritol
1/3 cup Eggbeaters, which is pasteurized and presents no salmonella danger.
1/2 tsp. salt, 1 tsp. vanilla
At least 1/2 pound pitted cherries. (Dark or Rainier cherries are fine. If they are sour pie cherries, add a little sweetener at this stage)
I often cook a little sugar-free juice first (cranberry mixes are fine) with a packet of unflavored gelatin, rather than water.
Add the seeded and chopped cherries and cook it a little longer. When I use the immersion blender a short time, some of the cherries stay chunky,which gives it a nice texture.
Strawberry Ice Cream
For a slightly more decadent frozen dessert:
2/3 of a pint of half-and-half, the real thing.
Blend it with an equal amount of fat-free half-and-half or milk, or use all half-and-half
2/3 cup of xylitol
1 envelope of unflavored gelatin, dissolved in a bit of water or juice
1 T. honey plus 1 T. agave, plus a dash of salt
1/4 cup of Eggbeaters
1 tsp. of vanilla
8-10 strawberries
Blend using an immersion or regular blender, leaving some sizeable chunks of berries.
This version expands to the top as it freezes, is creamier, and has the mouth feel of real ice cream. The leftovers made an incredible milkshake several days later.
The Best Yet Strawberry Ice Cream
9 ounces (two-thirds of a carton) of Tillamook non-fat sour cream
an equal amount (two-thirds of a can) of evaporated milk
2/3 cup xylitol (you could use erythritol)
2 T. of agave syrup
1 packet unflavored gelatin dissolved in water
1 tsp. of vanilla, a little salt
8 large fresh strawberries, quartered
2 T. of homemade sugar-free blackberry jam.
I didn't use Eggbeaters for this batch. I used the immersion blender again, but this time there were fewer large pieces of strawberry left. It doubled in volume and turned into a creamy berry frozen dessert with soft-serve consistency. Yum!
Chocolate Ice Cream
This batch was the best yet. Mom really loved it. Measurements are approximate, but here goes:
About 1/4 cup good quality non-alkali powdered dark cocoa
3 T. dutch cocoa powder
3 T. sugar-free cocoa drink mix
3 T. cornstarch
1 can fat-free evaporated milk
2/3 cup erythritol
1/4 tsp. salt
Mix in a heavy bottomed saucepan and cook, stirring constantly, until it thickens and turns more translucent. Cool it a bit.
Using an immersion blender or whisk, add:
2/3 cup fat-free Tillamook sour cream
1 tsp. good vanilla (Trader Joe's Tahitian bourbon is great)
1/2 tsp. cinnamon
1/3 cup 2 percent milk
Cool. Make sure it is all well-blended and cool to the touch before putting it in the ice cream freezer. Run it a good half hour, then transfer it into a container to ripen in the freezer.
Fruity Sherbet
Using an immersion blender, combine:
3-4 fresh seeded apricots, blended with 2/3 carton of fresh boysenberries/blackberries
1/2 cup Tillamook fat-free sour cream
1 cup two percent milk
2/3 cup erythritol
2 T. agave syrup, plus a pinch of salt
2/3 package of unflavored gelatin dissolved in liquid and cooked briefly in the microwave
1/4 tsp. grated dried lemon peel
This is so amazing - slightly tart yet rich and fruity. Mom and I just had some for dessert following a bowl of homemade minestrone. We are replete.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Who says good bagels are dead?
I have been reading death notices for the upper West Side H&H Bagels in New York City. When I lived at 86th & Broadway at Bretton Hall, it was across the street. It was open 24 hours, and something was always coming out of the oven. We felt the front of the Plexiglas display to see which one was warm.
My Sunday ritual involved a couple of H&H bagels, a small container of their pre-mixed cream cheese and lox or herbs and cream cheese, and a Sunday New York Times. If I was feeling particularly affluent, I went to Zabar's or Fairway down Broadway and got lox sliced so thinly you could read the Times through it.
Here on the West Coast, I have had very few bagels that fill the bill. I also understand H&H went downhill after I left.
My brother got me into the bagel-making mode about a decade ago, even showing me a finger-twirling trick. Once I had good sourdough going, it was a matter of experimenting to get a proper facsimile of a real pumpernickel bagel. These days, I use agave syrup in place of malt syrup, add spelt flour, throw in leftover sourdough pancake batter, etc. In other words, I play fast and loose, but as long as I adhere to the basics, they are infinitely better than anything available here.
My Pumpernickel Bagels
To 1 pint sourdough starter, add:
1 pint lukewarm water (105-110 degrees F. max)
2 tsp. of British malt syrup (1 tsp. sugar, or 2 tsp. honey or agave syrup)
2 cups unbleached flour
1/4 tsp. salt
Put the ingredients one at a time in a large mixing bowl, beating after each addition.
Add one cup of flour at a time and beat, adding flour and/or water until it's the consistency of thick pancake batter. Put 2 cups of starter back in a jar, let sit on counter for a couple of hours, then refrigerate until the next use (try to use it once a week. If you can't, stir in 1/2 tsp. sugar and a little water and flour to feed the yeast every 10 days).
In a small saucepan on the stove, briefly cook 1 cup bulghur or cracked wheat in 2 cups lightly salted water, adding 1/4 c. dark molasses after it boils and the cereal absorbs most of the water. It should be the consistency of gruel---add a little water if it thickens too much. Cool.
Add the following ingredients to the remainder of the starter in the bowl:
2 cups lukewarm water
1 tsp. salt
2 T. oil
1-1/2 teaspoons granulated yeast (SAP is best), or one packet, stirred into 1/4 cup lukewarm water + 1 tsp. sugar
1/3 cup gluten flour (if you don't have it, just use additional unbleached)
1-1/2 cups dark rye flour (I prefer Bob's Red Mill)
1 cup whole wheat flour
Cooled 'gruel' of bulghur or cracked wheat
2 tsp. caraway seeds
To top the bagels, 1 tsp. each poppy, flax, and sesame seeds
Optional - dried garlic bits, dried onion
Beat the batter well with a wooden spoon to get the gluten working; stir in the cooked, cooled bulghur/cracked wheat, then gradually keep adding flour to make a good stiff dough, working it with a spoon until it forms a ball in bowl. Sprinkle flour on the ball, then knead, adding flour a little at a time. When the dough is cohesive and doesn't take any more flour readily (knead it about 5 minutes), form a smoothly rounded ball in bowl, spray it with Pam, and cover it with a non-fuzzy towel in a warm place. Let it double. Grease your hands with salad or olive oil. Pinch off apricot-sized balls of dough, roll a round ball, and pierce center all the way through with your index finger. Twirl the dough like a hula hoop, keeping your index finger in the air, until the hole in the center is at least 1-1/2 inches across. It's fun, and you'll get the knack in no time.
Put the bagels on a greased cookie sheets; let rise 20 minutes. Meanwhile, preheat oven to 450 degrees, and put a large cake pan half full of water in the bottom of the oven. Fill a large, wide kettle 3/4 full with warm water + 3 T. malt syrup, sugar, or agave syrup and bring to a boil on top of the stove (some people also add 1/2 tsp. baking soda). Carefully slide a few bagels at a time into the water until the surface is covered but they don't touch, 4 or so at a time, depending on the size of the kettle. After one or more minutes in the boiling water, flip them to cook the other side one more minute. Respray the cookie sheets, sprinkle with cornmeal and sprinkle the top of the bagels with poppy or sesame seeds, and/or onion or garlic bits, if desired. Bake each pan in very hot oven (425-450) until golden, about 10-12 minutes --- watch 'em. Have a pan or water in the oven, or spray them a couple of times (not with an electric oven with a light bulb --- don't ask.)
Serve with lox and cream cheese, or nosh 'em plain, if you wish.
These freeze well; bag half-dozens and thaw and toast as needed.
Have fun, and it's really not as hard as this recipe may sound.
My Sunday ritual involved a couple of H&H bagels, a small container of their pre-mixed cream cheese and lox or herbs and cream cheese, and a Sunday New York Times. If I was feeling particularly affluent, I went to Zabar's or Fairway down Broadway and got lox sliced so thinly you could read the Times through it.
Here on the West Coast, I have had very few bagels that fill the bill. I also understand H&H went downhill after I left.
My brother got me into the bagel-making mode about a decade ago, even showing me a finger-twirling trick. Once I had good sourdough going, it was a matter of experimenting to get a proper facsimile of a real pumpernickel bagel. These days, I use agave syrup in place of malt syrup, add spelt flour, throw in leftover sourdough pancake batter, etc. In other words, I play fast and loose, but as long as I adhere to the basics, they are infinitely better than anything available here.
My Pumpernickel Bagels
To 1 pint sourdough starter, add:
1 pint lukewarm water (105-110 degrees F. max)
2 tsp. of British malt syrup (1 tsp. sugar, or 2 tsp. honey or agave syrup)
2 cups unbleached flour
1/4 tsp. salt
Put the ingredients one at a time in a large mixing bowl, beating after each addition.
Add one cup of flour at a time and beat, adding flour and/or water until it's the consistency of thick pancake batter. Put 2 cups of starter back in a jar, let sit on counter for a couple of hours, then refrigerate until the next use (try to use it once a week. If you can't, stir in 1/2 tsp. sugar and a little water and flour to feed the yeast every 10 days).
In a small saucepan on the stove, briefly cook 1 cup bulghur or cracked wheat in 2 cups lightly salted water, adding 1/4 c. dark molasses after it boils and the cereal absorbs most of the water. It should be the consistency of gruel---add a little water if it thickens too much. Cool.
Add the following ingredients to the remainder of the starter in the bowl:
2 cups lukewarm water
1 tsp. salt
2 T. oil
1-1/2 teaspoons granulated yeast (SAP is best), or one packet, stirred into 1/4 cup lukewarm water + 1 tsp. sugar
1/3 cup gluten flour (if you don't have it, just use additional unbleached)
1-1/2 cups dark rye flour (I prefer Bob's Red Mill)
1 cup whole wheat flour
Cooled 'gruel' of bulghur or cracked wheat
2 tsp. caraway seeds
To top the bagels, 1 tsp. each poppy, flax, and sesame seeds
Optional - dried garlic bits, dried onion
Beat the batter well with a wooden spoon to get the gluten working; stir in the cooked, cooled bulghur/cracked wheat, then gradually keep adding flour to make a good stiff dough, working it with a spoon until it forms a ball in bowl. Sprinkle flour on the ball, then knead, adding flour a little at a time. When the dough is cohesive and doesn't take any more flour readily (knead it about 5 minutes), form a smoothly rounded ball in bowl, spray it with Pam, and cover it with a non-fuzzy towel in a warm place. Let it double. Grease your hands with salad or olive oil. Pinch off apricot-sized balls of dough, roll a round ball, and pierce center all the way through with your index finger. Twirl the dough like a hula hoop, keeping your index finger in the air, until the hole in the center is at least 1-1/2 inches across. It's fun, and you'll get the knack in no time.
Put the bagels on a greased cookie sheets; let rise 20 minutes. Meanwhile, preheat oven to 450 degrees, and put a large cake pan half full of water in the bottom of the oven. Fill a large, wide kettle 3/4 full with warm water + 3 T. malt syrup, sugar, or agave syrup and bring to a boil on top of the stove (some people also add 1/2 tsp. baking soda). Carefully slide a few bagels at a time into the water until the surface is covered but they don't touch, 4 or so at a time, depending on the size of the kettle. After one or more minutes in the boiling water, flip them to cook the other side one more minute. Respray the cookie sheets, sprinkle with cornmeal and sprinkle the top of the bagels with poppy or sesame seeds, and/or onion or garlic bits, if desired. Bake each pan in very hot oven (425-450) until golden, about 10-12 minutes --- watch 'em. Have a pan or water in the oven, or spray them a couple of times (not with an electric oven with a light bulb --- don't ask.)
Serve with lox and cream cheese, or nosh 'em plain, if you wish.
These freeze well; bag half-dozens and thaw and toast as needed.
Have fun, and it's really not as hard as this recipe may sound.
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Umm...umm..Give it up for ice cream
My birthday present was a Cuisinart ice cream maker. Mom asked what I wanted this year, and that was it. The sugar-free ice cream available in stores usually has aspartame plus stabilizers. Although there are a few brands with Splenda, those with lower fat content are especially nasty, as they taste like chalk or are full of air, or both.
We found a Cuisinart ICE 21 on sale on Amazon.com, one of those with the tub you stash in the freezer.
The first two batches were disappointing. The main problem was the freezer's temperature --- our thermostat was set two years ago by my brother-in-law, who thought he was doing us a favor by saving electricity. No wonder things weren't keeping as long as they should. The first clue was an online posting that if the liquid inside the core of the tub is still sloshing around, it isn't cold enough to make ice cream. I turned the thermostat from around one and one-half to the halfway point, and the next batch was more like soft serve. It still needs to cure in the freezer, but it's about perfect in a half hour to 45 minutes.
The first batch may have been a little icy because I was basically making a sorbet. I used a can of low-fat coconut milk plus about a cup of fresh pineapple, a ripe banana, 2/3 cup of erythritol, and 2 T. agave syrup. The immersion blender was used to combine everything well. It was still pretty liquid after it was 'frozen,' but it became really hard in the freezer. I reblended it a few days later with juice and it made a creamier iced fruit drink.
The next attempt was cherry vanilla ice cream made with fat free half and half, sweetened with erythritol and fortified with Eggbeaters, which is pasteurized and presents no salmonella danger. Once again, the core wasn't cold enough and it became a bit icy when cured in the freezer. However, the texture improved when it was reblended and refrozen. The cherries used were canned unsweetened pie cherries. I cooked the juice first with the erythritol and added a packet of unflavored gelatin. When I used the immersion blender, some of the cherries stayed nearly whole, and while I appreciated the tart contrast, not many others would.
To make the first batch after turning up the thermostat, I reduced the amount of mix, filling it about halfway. This time I had 2/3 of a pint of half-and-half, the real thing purchased accidently by Mom because the carton looked just like the fat-free version. Since it was only 5 percent, I blended it with an equal amount of fat-free half-and-half and made fresh strawberry ice cream. I used about 2/3 cup of xylitol; (a pound package of it came free in an order of five pounds of erythritol from Emerald Forest). Once again, I used an envelope of unflavored gelatin, and this time I added 1 T. honey plus 1 T. agave, plus about 1/4 cup of Eggbeaters and one tsp. of vanilla. I used about 8 strawberries, and blended it using the immersion blender, leaving some sizeable chunks of berry. It came a little more than half-way up in the cannister, but expanded to the top as it froze. It was creamier, and had the mouth feel of real ice cream. The leftovers made an incredible milkshake several days later.
The most recent batch was dessert for Sunday dinner. I hit on a really creamy version, the perfect end to our picnic on the lawn under the big market umbrella.
This batch included about 9 ounces (two-thirds of a carton) of Tillamook non-fat sour cream, an equal amount (two-thirds of a can) of evaporated milk, plus about 2/3 cup of xylitol, 2 T. of agave syrup, 1 tsp. of vanilla, about eight fresh strawberries and 2 T. of homemade sugar-free blackberry jam. I didn't use Eggbeaters this time. However, I did use an envelope of unflavored gelatin nuked a short time with a little water. I used the immersion blender again, but this time there were few pieces of strawberry left, other than a few strands showing in the mix. Once again, it expanded as it froze, about doubling and turning into a creamy berry confection with soft-serve consistency. I put Mom's bowl in the freezer about 10 minutes as she finished her lunch, a tri-color penne pasta salad with multi-colored heirloom cherry tomatoes, fresh basil and green onion topped with leftover baked salmon on a bed of baby lettuce, with a fat-free balsamic vinaigrette dressing.
Talk about bliss. A couple of butterflies flitted across the lawn as we enjoyed a slight breeze under the shelter of our umbrella. We said we wished we could take a nap outdoors, then retreated indoors for a Sunday snooze. With a weekend including the Sternwheeler Days parade, playing a set of music at the high school reunion, taking photos at Gorge Blues & BBQ, and attending the Cowboy Breakfast, the peak of summer frenzy has arrived. Add the perfect weather, and our Sunday picnic was a much-needed respite, topped by a frozen berry delight.
We found a Cuisinart ICE 21 on sale on Amazon.com, one of those with the tub you stash in the freezer.
The first two batches were disappointing. The main problem was the freezer's temperature --- our thermostat was set two years ago by my brother-in-law, who thought he was doing us a favor by saving electricity. No wonder things weren't keeping as long as they should. The first clue was an online posting that if the liquid inside the core of the tub is still sloshing around, it isn't cold enough to make ice cream. I turned the thermostat from around one and one-half to the halfway point, and the next batch was more like soft serve. It still needs to cure in the freezer, but it's about perfect in a half hour to 45 minutes.
The first batch may have been a little icy because I was basically making a sorbet. I used a can of low-fat coconut milk plus about a cup of fresh pineapple, a ripe banana, 2/3 cup of erythritol, and 2 T. agave syrup. The immersion blender was used to combine everything well. It was still pretty liquid after it was 'frozen,' but it became really hard in the freezer. I reblended it a few days later with juice and it made a creamier iced fruit drink.
The next attempt was cherry vanilla ice cream made with fat free half and half, sweetened with erythritol and fortified with Eggbeaters, which is pasteurized and presents no salmonella danger. Once again, the core wasn't cold enough and it became a bit icy when cured in the freezer. However, the texture improved when it was reblended and refrozen. The cherries used were canned unsweetened pie cherries. I cooked the juice first with the erythritol and added a packet of unflavored gelatin. When I used the immersion blender, some of the cherries stayed nearly whole, and while I appreciated the tart contrast, not many others would.
To make the first batch after turning up the thermostat, I reduced the amount of mix, filling it about halfway. This time I had 2/3 of a pint of half-and-half, the real thing purchased accidently by Mom because the carton looked just like the fat-free version. Since it was only 5 percent, I blended it with an equal amount of fat-free half-and-half and made fresh strawberry ice cream. I used about 2/3 cup of xylitol; (a pound package of it came free in an order of five pounds of erythritol from Emerald Forest). Once again, I used an envelope of unflavored gelatin, and this time I added 1 T. honey plus 1 T. agave, plus about 1/4 cup of Eggbeaters and one tsp. of vanilla. I used about 8 strawberries, and blended it using the immersion blender, leaving some sizeable chunks of berry. It came a little more than half-way up in the cannister, but expanded to the top as it froze. It was creamier, and had the mouth feel of real ice cream. The leftovers made an incredible milkshake several days later.
The most recent batch was dessert for Sunday dinner. I hit on a really creamy version, the perfect end to our picnic on the lawn under the big market umbrella.
This batch included about 9 ounces (two-thirds of a carton) of Tillamook non-fat sour cream, an equal amount (two-thirds of a can) of evaporated milk, plus about 2/3 cup of xylitol, 2 T. of agave syrup, 1 tsp. of vanilla, about eight fresh strawberries and 2 T. of homemade sugar-free blackberry jam. I didn't use Eggbeaters this time. However, I did use an envelope of unflavored gelatin nuked a short time with a little water. I used the immersion blender again, but this time there were few pieces of strawberry left, other than a few strands showing in the mix. Once again, it expanded as it froze, about doubling and turning into a creamy berry confection with soft-serve consistency. I put Mom's bowl in the freezer about 10 minutes as she finished her lunch, a tri-color penne pasta salad with multi-colored heirloom cherry tomatoes, fresh basil and green onion topped with leftover baked salmon on a bed of baby lettuce, with a fat-free balsamic vinaigrette dressing.
Talk about bliss. A couple of butterflies flitted across the lawn as we enjoyed a slight breeze under the shelter of our umbrella. We said we wished we could take a nap outdoors, then retreated indoors for a Sunday snooze. With a weekend including the Sternwheeler Days parade, playing a set of music at the high school reunion, taking photos at Gorge Blues & BBQ, and attending the Cowboy Breakfast, the peak of summer frenzy has arrived. Add the perfect weather, and our Sunday picnic was a much-needed respite, topped by a frozen berry delight.
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Not shy, but retiring...
Of the moment but nevertheless momentous, it was a decision I may live to regret. All it took was a visit to a website and one phone call.
As of August 1, I will be among the ranks of those collecting Social Security. (That's if the Republicans don't turn us oldsters into an endangered species. I could have waited, but "entitlement" is sounding more and more like a dirty word.)
Now that reality is setting in, I realize I will also be pursuing side hustles if I want to do more than simply survive on the pittance I will be receiving.
Last night I cranked out 16 photo cards and ordered supplies to make more, plus postcards. I also signed up for a new weekly farmers/crafters market.
The museum was out of my scenic Columbia Gorge and Lewis & Clark DVDs, so I made a batch, also ordering blank DVDs and jewel cases. I will try to sell DVDs, jewelry and some cards and framed photos at my table at the market, plus a few wall hangings or pillows.
Wait a minute --- this is already running into money...
Mom wanted to take me out to dinner last night to celebrate, as she is excited about not having to sit alone at home all day while I am at work. She knew I was tired, and said we could go somewhere close to home.
I refused to go out. I had planted part of our(tiny) vegetable garden before attending a tense PUD meeting --- on my day off. The meeting was mostly in executive session; two of the three board members are trying to fire the PUD manager. That meeting is precisely why I am so ready for retirement. I have known most of the participants for years, including the 'citizen' contingent waiting in the lobby like Madame Defarge (nearly all the complainers wanting him fired are former PUD employees who worked there before he came on board, and things are much better now). One of the PUD commissioners admitted saying their target is a 'sacrificial lamb,' but off with his head nonetheless. There is nothing worse than old '60s activists with too much time on their hands.
Returning to dinner and last night --- I was tired and down in my right hip and I didn't want go out.
There was a bundle of Washington asparagus waiting in the crisper drawer, so this is what I made: I started some Thai jasmine brown rice in a heavy-bottomed saucepan, and removed five small chicken breast tenders from the freezer and placed them on a plate. They were still frozen, but I sprinkled them with 2 tsp. of sesame oil, a splash of fish sauce and 2 T. of low-sodium Trader Joe's soy sauce, mincing a clove of garlic and shaving about 3/4" of frozen ginger root over them. I cut up eight of the thickest stalks of asparagus, removing the fibrous ends. Half a sweet onion and half a sweet red pepper were cut into strips and added to the pile.
Pouring about an inch of excess rice water --- I had used too much water ---into a deep non-stick skillet, I turned the heat on high.
I left a little water in the bottom of the rice and put the lid back on the rice, turning off the heat in a minute, as it was nearly done.
Then I hacked the still partially frozen chicken tenders into 1-1/2" slices and added them and the marinade ingredients to the pan with the rice water. Then I threw in 1" pieces of the lower part of the asparagus stalks, saving the tops to be added toward the end. In went the red pepper and onion strips, plus the chopped white part of two large scallions, saving the green tops for later. I opened a small can of sliced shiitake mushrooms and drained them, throwing them in with the chicken and vegetables. Next I added 2 T. each of oyster sauce, soy sauce and agave syrup, plus several grinds of black pepper (I saved the red pepper flakes for my portion, but you wouldn't have to). I stirred in the remaining asparagus and scallion tops, plus 1 T. of cornstarch. In a couple more stirs, it was done.
The new trick I learned last night: Other than the sesame oil, no oil was used in the stirfry. Although it was the result of a flub, using the excess rice water with its rich jasmine flavor made an excellent sauce base. I will continue to do that. Although browning things in oil adds umami, there was more than enough flavor to go around with those ingredients.
The leftovers are going to work with me today for lunch. With Memorial Day weekend coming up, I have to put in extra hours due to early deadline.
August can't get here fast enough.
As of August 1, I will be among the ranks of those collecting Social Security. (That's if the Republicans don't turn us oldsters into an endangered species. I could have waited, but "entitlement" is sounding more and more like a dirty word.)
Now that reality is setting in, I realize I will also be pursuing side hustles if I want to do more than simply survive on the pittance I will be receiving.
Last night I cranked out 16 photo cards and ordered supplies to make more, plus postcards. I also signed up for a new weekly farmers/crafters market.
The museum was out of my scenic Columbia Gorge and Lewis & Clark DVDs, so I made a batch, also ordering blank DVDs and jewel cases. I will try to sell DVDs, jewelry and some cards and framed photos at my table at the market, plus a few wall hangings or pillows.
Wait a minute --- this is already running into money...
Mom wanted to take me out to dinner last night to celebrate, as she is excited about not having to sit alone at home all day while I am at work. She knew I was tired, and said we could go somewhere close to home.
I refused to go out. I had planted part of our(tiny) vegetable garden before attending a tense PUD meeting --- on my day off. The meeting was mostly in executive session; two of the three board members are trying to fire the PUD manager. That meeting is precisely why I am so ready for retirement. I have known most of the participants for years, including the 'citizen' contingent waiting in the lobby like Madame Defarge (nearly all the complainers wanting him fired are former PUD employees who worked there before he came on board, and things are much better now). One of the PUD commissioners admitted saying their target is a 'sacrificial lamb,' but off with his head nonetheless. There is nothing worse than old '60s activists with too much time on their hands.
Returning to dinner and last night --- I was tired and down in my right hip and I didn't want go out.
There was a bundle of Washington asparagus waiting in the crisper drawer, so this is what I made: I started some Thai jasmine brown rice in a heavy-bottomed saucepan, and removed five small chicken breast tenders from the freezer and placed them on a plate. They were still frozen, but I sprinkled them with 2 tsp. of sesame oil, a splash of fish sauce and 2 T. of low-sodium Trader Joe's soy sauce, mincing a clove of garlic and shaving about 3/4" of frozen ginger root over them. I cut up eight of the thickest stalks of asparagus, removing the fibrous ends. Half a sweet onion and half a sweet red pepper were cut into strips and added to the pile.
Pouring about an inch of excess rice water --- I had used too much water ---into a deep non-stick skillet, I turned the heat on high.
I left a little water in the bottom of the rice and put the lid back on the rice, turning off the heat in a minute, as it was nearly done.
Then I hacked the still partially frozen chicken tenders into 1-1/2" slices and added them and the marinade ingredients to the pan with the rice water. Then I threw in 1" pieces of the lower part of the asparagus stalks, saving the tops to be added toward the end. In went the red pepper and onion strips, plus the chopped white part of two large scallions, saving the green tops for later. I opened a small can of sliced shiitake mushrooms and drained them, throwing them in with the chicken and vegetables. Next I added 2 T. each of oyster sauce, soy sauce and agave syrup, plus several grinds of black pepper (I saved the red pepper flakes for my portion, but you wouldn't have to). I stirred in the remaining asparagus and scallion tops, plus 1 T. of cornstarch. In a couple more stirs, it was done.
The new trick I learned last night: Other than the sesame oil, no oil was used in the stirfry. Although it was the result of a flub, using the excess rice water with its rich jasmine flavor made an excellent sauce base. I will continue to do that. Although browning things in oil adds umami, there was more than enough flavor to go around with those ingredients.
The leftovers are going to work with me today for lunch. With Memorial Day weekend coming up, I have to put in extra hours due to early deadline.
August can't get here fast enough.
Friday, May 13, 2011
A Few Figs
Edna St. Vincent Millay's poem "First Fig," from "A Few Figs from Thistles," is the famous "My candle burns at both ends; It will not last the night; But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends - It gives a lovely light!"
There are subtleties here beyond "burning the candle at both ends."
Yes, we know it will not last the night --- how can it when it is no doubt lying on its side in a puddle of wax?
I love that her reminder goes first to foes, then to friends. If it "gives a lovely light," it is no doubt shining in those enemies' eyes, temporarily blinding them.
The poem has an 'in your face' quality, and reminds me of the old adage to keep your friends close and your enemies closer.
The reference in her book title is to Matthew 7:16 - "By their fruits you will know them. Do you gather grapes from thorns, or figs from thistles?"
She also wrote "Second Fig," a particularly short poem with another biblical reference, this time to the house built upon sand from Matthew 7:26, ten verses later: "And every one that heareth these sayings of mine, and doeth them not, shall be likened unto a foolish man, which built his house upon the sand."
Millay's "Second Fig" says, "Safe upon the solid rock the ugly houses stand: Come and see my shining palace built upon the sand!" That's it, the entire poem.
Back to figs: A good fig isn't easy to find, nor is the first one of the season very good.
But oh, that first one ever. I hadn't tasted a fresh fig until my senior year of high school. Like most kids, I liked Fig Newtons but that was my only exposure to the fruit until we moved to Arizona.
A neighbor down the street had a fig tree in her front yard. She occasionally gave us a bag of them.
They were a revelation. I have craved them since, but seldom can I indulge.
They were everywhere in Sicily. The Italians in this country must have their figs, and have learned to grow them in more inclement climates by "laying them down" for the winter, heeling the small trees under a pile of soil and mulch. In the spring they are set upright again to fruit another season.
My sister brought a small package of figs from a Seattle produce market on a recent visit --- I never see them in the stores here. They were okay, but a little over the hill and watery.
Figs can be such a contrast. They can almost be leathery on the outside (particularly the dark ones) but still juicy and delectable inside. The stem end can be shriveled and they can still be delicious. Sometimes they look fine on the outside, but are dry and insipid inside.
The closest thing to a ripe fig I've come across lately is Guerlain's Aqua Allegoria Figue-Iris in a 5 ml decant from The Perfumed Court. When I wear it, I feel delicious. I am out of Figue-Iris for the moment, but when I wear it, it reminds me all day in subtle whiffs. If I am in a bad mood, I can't wear it -- it serves as a reminder of how happiness should feel. Perhaps I should think of a candle burning bravely at both ends, and wear it all the time.
There are subtleties here beyond "burning the candle at both ends."
Yes, we know it will not last the night --- how can it when it is no doubt lying on its side in a puddle of wax?
I love that her reminder goes first to foes, then to friends. If it "gives a lovely light," it is no doubt shining in those enemies' eyes, temporarily blinding them.
The poem has an 'in your face' quality, and reminds me of the old adage to keep your friends close and your enemies closer.
The reference in her book title is to Matthew 7:16 - "By their fruits you will know them. Do you gather grapes from thorns, or figs from thistles?"
She also wrote "Second Fig," a particularly short poem with another biblical reference, this time to the house built upon sand from Matthew 7:26, ten verses later: "And every one that heareth these sayings of mine, and doeth them not, shall be likened unto a foolish man, which built his house upon the sand."
Millay's "Second Fig" says, "Safe upon the solid rock the ugly houses stand: Come and see my shining palace built upon the sand!" That's it, the entire poem.
Back to figs: A good fig isn't easy to find, nor is the first one of the season very good.
But oh, that first one ever. I hadn't tasted a fresh fig until my senior year of high school. Like most kids, I liked Fig Newtons but that was my only exposure to the fruit until we moved to Arizona.
A neighbor down the street had a fig tree in her front yard. She occasionally gave us a bag of them.
They were a revelation. I have craved them since, but seldom can I indulge.
They were everywhere in Sicily. The Italians in this country must have their figs, and have learned to grow them in more inclement climates by "laying them down" for the winter, heeling the small trees under a pile of soil and mulch. In the spring they are set upright again to fruit another season.
My sister brought a small package of figs from a Seattle produce market on a recent visit --- I never see them in the stores here. They were okay, but a little over the hill and watery.
Figs can be such a contrast. They can almost be leathery on the outside (particularly the dark ones) but still juicy and delectable inside. The stem end can be shriveled and they can still be delicious. Sometimes they look fine on the outside, but are dry and insipid inside.
The closest thing to a ripe fig I've come across lately is Guerlain's Aqua Allegoria Figue-Iris in a 5 ml decant from The Perfumed Court. When I wear it, I feel delicious. I am out of Figue-Iris for the moment, but when I wear it, it reminds me all day in subtle whiffs. If I am in a bad mood, I can't wear it -- it serves as a reminder of how happiness should feel. Perhaps I should think of a candle burning bravely at both ends, and wear it all the time.
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
yeasty effervescence
My sister brought back a package of French yeast for me, Alsa brand "levure du boulanger Briochin." It is "pour pains et brioches," and in the little box were five "sachets" which I had used down to the last packet.
A couple of weeks ago, I made a quick batch of pizza dough, turning most of the remainder into a small boule of half whole wheat bread. However, that yeast was just too ebullient, too good to give up that easily, so I saved a tad of the mother from the pizza dough, adding some flour, water and less than half a teaspoon of sugar, and grabbing an Atlas quart canning jar and metal lid that had gone through the dishwasher for this new sourdough experiment.
I already have two batches of sourdough in the refrigerator that I nurture weekly. One is sourdough for bread; the other is buckwheat sourdough for pancakes. Both are in apothecary-type jars that originally held Sasquatch coffee.
Life zigged, then zagged, and the new jar went untouched for about two weeks --- until today. I was making banana sourdough pancakes and saw the jar in the back of the refrigerator. I thought I could add some to the pancake batter and replace some flour and water to keep it going. That was not a problem, however. It was still very much alive.
My first clue was the stubbornness of the lid, which refused to yield. The second clue was a major bulge in the metal of the lid. It was literally a time bomb. The jar had inexplicably failed to implant glass shards and molten yeastiness in the walls of the refrigerator and cartons of milk and eggs therein, due to the sturdiness of that Atlas jar and the Classico pasta sauce metal lid.
I grabbed a large chef's knife with a pointy tip and stabbed a tiny nick into the lid to relieve the pressure.
It was a Silly String Vesuvius, spouting a continuous strand of sourdough accompanied by a hissing sound. When I turned the jar upside down to place the lava flow more directly into the bowl, it spat and sprayed a fine liquid mist onto the knife block, French press, salt shaker and everything else in its line of fire, then resumed the Silly String.
I asked for a little intervention from Mom, as there was no stepping away from this active volcano. She rinsed out a smaller blue apothecary jar that had been languishing on the back counter, and I redirected the pressurized flow into it, while spooning foam from the bowl.
Finally, the stream subsided enough to pry off the lid. I spooned the rest of the sourdough into the new receptacle, after placing whipped cream dollops of the stuff (it was light as air) into my big earthenware bread bowl.
I added unbleached, whole wheat and spelt and gluten flours to the bowl with some water, salt and a teaspoon of honey, beating it with a wooden spoon and making a thick batter before covering it with a towel and heading to town for lunch at Sweet Tomatoes and a four-hour shopping trip.
It was already 6 p.m. by the time we returned home, and the dough had risen into an extremely light sponge. I added more flour, mostly whole wheat and spelt, then kneaded it until it drew away from the walls of the bowl. The oven was at 450, with a shallow pan of water on the bottom shelf. Forming a rough ball, I plunked it onto the pizza stone, which I had lightly oiled and dusted with cornmeal. Slitting the top of the ball, I sprinkled it with water, sesame and poppy seeds. It rose about 10 or 15 minutes while I made dinner, combining Sunday's leftovers in a casserole dish to pop into the oven with the bread.
Those leftovers were two remaining pieces of elk backstrap that I had baked/broiled, a quick Swiss steak for Sunday dinner accompanied by a rice/tomato/corn casserole seasoned with sweet red pepper, cumin, basil, oregano, garlic, etc. The meat and rice/corn casserole were combined on a whole grain tortilla with shredded cheese, garnished with salsa and sour cream.
In the second act, the meat was chopped up with the leftovers in a casserole dish and topped with a little shredded cheese, then popped into the oven with the bread, with the temperature lowered to around 400.
I sauteed two small sliced zucchinis in a shallow non-stick skillet with a little garlic, basil adding a last-minute dribble or two of chicken broth, and covering the pan for a minute or two as the leftovers were reassembled in tortillas.
Dessert was a cluster of grapes and a sliver of the bread cut from the still-warm loaf using a serrated knife. The three-inch long slice was nearly all crust.
Usually when baking bread with sourdough, I add some supplemental yeast. I didn't think it was needed this time, and I was right.
Now if I can just keep this batch going without coating the walls of the refrigerator...
A couple of weeks ago, I made a quick batch of pizza dough, turning most of the remainder into a small boule of half whole wheat bread. However, that yeast was just too ebullient, too good to give up that easily, so I saved a tad of the mother from the pizza dough, adding some flour, water and less than half a teaspoon of sugar, and grabbing an Atlas quart canning jar and metal lid that had gone through the dishwasher for this new sourdough experiment.
I already have two batches of sourdough in the refrigerator that I nurture weekly. One is sourdough for bread; the other is buckwheat sourdough for pancakes. Both are in apothecary-type jars that originally held Sasquatch coffee.
Life zigged, then zagged, and the new jar went untouched for about two weeks --- until today. I was making banana sourdough pancakes and saw the jar in the back of the refrigerator. I thought I could add some to the pancake batter and replace some flour and water to keep it going. That was not a problem, however. It was still very much alive.
My first clue was the stubbornness of the lid, which refused to yield. The second clue was a major bulge in the metal of the lid. It was literally a time bomb. The jar had inexplicably failed to implant glass shards and molten yeastiness in the walls of the refrigerator and cartons of milk and eggs therein, due to the sturdiness of that Atlas jar and the Classico pasta sauce metal lid.
I grabbed a large chef's knife with a pointy tip and stabbed a tiny nick into the lid to relieve the pressure.
It was a Silly String Vesuvius, spouting a continuous strand of sourdough accompanied by a hissing sound. When I turned the jar upside down to place the lava flow more directly into the bowl, it spat and sprayed a fine liquid mist onto the knife block, French press, salt shaker and everything else in its line of fire, then resumed the Silly String.
I asked for a little intervention from Mom, as there was no stepping away from this active volcano. She rinsed out a smaller blue apothecary jar that had been languishing on the back counter, and I redirected the pressurized flow into it, while spooning foam from the bowl.
Finally, the stream subsided enough to pry off the lid. I spooned the rest of the sourdough into the new receptacle, after placing whipped cream dollops of the stuff (it was light as air) into my big earthenware bread bowl.
I added unbleached, whole wheat and spelt and gluten flours to the bowl with some water, salt and a teaspoon of honey, beating it with a wooden spoon and making a thick batter before covering it with a towel and heading to town for lunch at Sweet Tomatoes and a four-hour shopping trip.
It was already 6 p.m. by the time we returned home, and the dough had risen into an extremely light sponge. I added more flour, mostly whole wheat and spelt, then kneaded it until it drew away from the walls of the bowl. The oven was at 450, with a shallow pan of water on the bottom shelf. Forming a rough ball, I plunked it onto the pizza stone, which I had lightly oiled and dusted with cornmeal. Slitting the top of the ball, I sprinkled it with water, sesame and poppy seeds. It rose about 10 or 15 minutes while I made dinner, combining Sunday's leftovers in a casserole dish to pop into the oven with the bread.
Those leftovers were two remaining pieces of elk backstrap that I had baked/broiled, a quick Swiss steak for Sunday dinner accompanied by a rice/tomato/corn casserole seasoned with sweet red pepper, cumin, basil, oregano, garlic, etc. The meat and rice/corn casserole were combined on a whole grain tortilla with shredded cheese, garnished with salsa and sour cream.
In the second act, the meat was chopped up with the leftovers in a casserole dish and topped with a little shredded cheese, then popped into the oven with the bread, with the temperature lowered to around 400.
I sauteed two small sliced zucchinis in a shallow non-stick skillet with a little garlic, basil adding a last-minute dribble or two of chicken broth, and covering the pan for a minute or two as the leftovers were reassembled in tortillas.
Dessert was a cluster of grapes and a sliver of the bread cut from the still-warm loaf using a serrated knife. The three-inch long slice was nearly all crust.
Usually when baking bread with sourdough, I add some supplemental yeast. I didn't think it was needed this time, and I was right.
Now if I can just keep this batch going without coating the walls of the refrigerator...
Thursday, January 6, 2011
If you're a real 'armnivore'
A new food movement goes beyond being a locavore. Described in an article in the Dec. 31 New York Times by James Gorman, the newest permutation is an "invasivore," someone eating foraged local foods, especially invasive species. There are several blogs on the web about encouraging more degustation of lionfish, which have invaded the Caribbean, as well as Asian carp flourishing in the Midwest to the detriment of native species.
On land, feral pigs are becoming quite a nuisance in parts of California and the Southwest. Get one or two of those, and you've got yourself a barbecue.
Down South, the king of the vegetable kingdom is the kudzu, a vine which swallows the landscape but is also totally edible, though few seem inspired to try it. The young shoots are reportedly great in a stir fry, the blossoms make a sweet tea and even tastier honey, and the vines can be woven into baskets or cloth. The roots can be used as a thickener, much like cornstarch, and are also a hangover cure, according to Martha Stewart.
However, one must be wary when stalking the omniverous kudzu. If you don't move fast enough, it will devour your car --- or you.
In Florida, pythons and boa constrictors, pets released into the swamp when they grew too big, are procreating and proliferating, swallowing poodles and hopefully a piranha or two. According to Gorman, the response to a request for a python recipe on Chowhound was met with this reply: Gator and snake etouffee. That's got to be a Cajun.
Most wild food enthusiasts primarily devour the more benign native species, such as venison and elk --- however, deer are pests in many locales. No hunting license or ammunition is (usually) required to forage for mushrooms and greens.
Dinner on Jan. 3 was ground venison tamale pie, quite tasty. The layers included polenta cooked with garlic, cumin and onion powder, venison sauteed with sweet paprika, onion, garlic and a little red wine; canned diced tomatoes with basil and oregano; frozen corn; chopped Kalamata olives; and two kinds of low fat cheese between the layers and sprinkled on top to brown.
The venison was not totally local --- my brother brought frozen packages of Eastern Oregon game and fish when he came at Thanksgiving. I'm looking forward to the rest of that bounty, rationed between the turkey and chicken breast.
Our childhood diet included venison and fish, as well as homegrown beef, eggs, milk and vegetables. We foraged lambsquarters and volunteer asparagus gathered from along the driveway while coming home from the school bus (we carried paring knives in our lunch pails for the purpose). I'm familiar with the concept of hunting and gathering.
I learned last year that a nephew who vanished for a time had been camping out in the woods and on the national forest, even in the dead of winter. I believe quite a bit of small game supplemented his fire-warmed canned beans, and possibly something larger also went into the pot.
There is a resident flock of Canada geese at a nearby semi-urban park/game refuge. About half are mixed with escaped domestic geese, so the flocks range from full-blooded Canada geese to white escapees, with some orange-footed and orange-billed hefty specimens contributing their bloodlines. Those geese that are not wild should theoretically be weeded out of the gene pool. I'm sure they would be quite tasty, but I have not succumbed to the temptation --- yet. A few months of unemployment, and I might change my mind.
In Oregon's Willamette Valley, there is an invasion of nutria released by disenchanted fur farmers. Driving by low-ground pastures, it's not uncommon to see nutria out munching in the fields between cows before retreating to their watery lairs. In Louisiana, they're on the menu among the more self-sufficient Cajun people.
Later this spring, I'm heading up to Iron Mike, where there is a small pond filled with volunteer watercress. While I'm there, I'll fill up a couple of jugs with the slightly effervescent, sulfurous mineral water from the Iron Mike pump. Perhaps I'll see if there is a morel or two lurking in the vicinity. However, I think I'll leave the squirrels and chipmunks to their own devices.
On land, feral pigs are becoming quite a nuisance in parts of California and the Southwest. Get one or two of those, and you've got yourself a barbecue.
Down South, the king of the vegetable kingdom is the kudzu, a vine which swallows the landscape but is also totally edible, though few seem inspired to try it. The young shoots are reportedly great in a stir fry, the blossoms make a sweet tea and even tastier honey, and the vines can be woven into baskets or cloth. The roots can be used as a thickener, much like cornstarch, and are also a hangover cure, according to Martha Stewart.
However, one must be wary when stalking the omniverous kudzu. If you don't move fast enough, it will devour your car --- or you.
In Florida, pythons and boa constrictors, pets released into the swamp when they grew too big, are procreating and proliferating, swallowing poodles and hopefully a piranha or two. According to Gorman, the response to a request for a python recipe on Chowhound was met with this reply: Gator and snake etouffee. That's got to be a Cajun.
Most wild food enthusiasts primarily devour the more benign native species, such as venison and elk --- however, deer are pests in many locales. No hunting license or ammunition is (usually) required to forage for mushrooms and greens.
Dinner on Jan. 3 was ground venison tamale pie, quite tasty. The layers included polenta cooked with garlic, cumin and onion powder, venison sauteed with sweet paprika, onion, garlic and a little red wine; canned diced tomatoes with basil and oregano; frozen corn; chopped Kalamata olives; and two kinds of low fat cheese between the layers and sprinkled on top to brown.
The venison was not totally local --- my brother brought frozen packages of Eastern Oregon game and fish when he came at Thanksgiving. I'm looking forward to the rest of that bounty, rationed between the turkey and chicken breast.
Our childhood diet included venison and fish, as well as homegrown beef, eggs, milk and vegetables. We foraged lambsquarters and volunteer asparagus gathered from along the driveway while coming home from the school bus (we carried paring knives in our lunch pails for the purpose). I'm familiar with the concept of hunting and gathering.
I learned last year that a nephew who vanished for a time had been camping out in the woods and on the national forest, even in the dead of winter. I believe quite a bit of small game supplemented his fire-warmed canned beans, and possibly something larger also went into the pot.
There is a resident flock of Canada geese at a nearby semi-urban park/game refuge. About half are mixed with escaped domestic geese, so the flocks range from full-blooded Canada geese to white escapees, with some orange-footed and orange-billed hefty specimens contributing their bloodlines. Those geese that are not wild should theoretically be weeded out of the gene pool. I'm sure they would be quite tasty, but I have not succumbed to the temptation --- yet. A few months of unemployment, and I might change my mind.
In Oregon's Willamette Valley, there is an invasion of nutria released by disenchanted fur farmers. Driving by low-ground pastures, it's not uncommon to see nutria out munching in the fields between cows before retreating to their watery lairs. In Louisiana, they're on the menu among the more self-sufficient Cajun people.
Later this spring, I'm heading up to Iron Mike, where there is a small pond filled with volunteer watercress. While I'm there, I'll fill up a couple of jugs with the slightly effervescent, sulfurous mineral water from the Iron Mike pump. Perhaps I'll see if there is a morel or two lurking in the vicinity. However, I think I'll leave the squirrels and chipmunks to their own devices.
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Pause that refreshes
taken at Trout Lake Arts Fest
