Hey, all.
I have moved my blog to smokyoven.wordpress.com. See you there!
WK-W
Monday, July 4, 2011
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Spring Roasts
I always want lamb in the spring. One of my favorite cuts is the boneless leg of lamb. I've recently paired it with both a potato and green garlic gratin, and a roasted tomato panzanella. Both meals came together very well. The most important thing to remember about this recipe is that you have to trim, season, and tie the leg the night before you plan to roast it. If you are new to trimming and tying meat, don't sweat it -- it's not as hard as it sounds.
To feed four adults and four kids, I purchased a 4-lb. leg -- 4 lbs. after boning. To trim and season the leg, open the meat up like a book. You may need to make additional vertical cuts in the meat to get it to lay flat. It's fine to have two or three flaps of meat -- just be sure that you rub the seasoning all over the inside.
Remove all silverskin, then flip the meat over and trim of all excess fat from the skin side of the roast. I don't care for the taste of lamb fat, so I trim the fat down as much as possible while leaving a nice creamy cap. Butchering hint: Use a very sharp chef's knife on a clean cutting board that you use only for raw meat. If the cutting board is plastic, slip a wet paper towel under the board so it won't move around on you. Sharp knives and sliding boards are a dangerous combination. Also, put on an apron. If you don't get messy, you're probably not having enough fun.
Season the leg with ground juniper berries (1-2 tablespoons whole berries); kosher salt & tellicherry pepper; 6-7 cloves garlic, minced; 4-5 branches fresh rosemary, chopped; and the zest of two Meyer lemons (save the bald lemons -- you'll want them later). Roll up the leg and tie it together with 6-7 lengths of butcher's twine, wrapping both horizontally and vertically. The idea is to make a neat and even package of meat so that the meat roasts evenly. Don't worry if it's lumpy on one end; it is a leg, after all. Let the leg refrigerate overnight.
Take the leg out of the refrigerator 30 minutes before you want to start cooking. You want the roast to come to room temperature before it goes in the oven. Rub the outside of the leg with olive oil and sprinkle with salt and pepper. I got the lamb off to a sizzle at 475 degrees for 20-25 minutes. I then squeezed the juice from the bald lemons over the meat and added a large glass of wine to the pan. Turn the heat to 325 or 350, depending on how hot your oven runs, and flip the roast once or twice during cooking so that it brown evenly. After about a hour and a half of cooking, start checking the internal temperature of the meat. I find that it comes up medium rare-medium for me when the temperature shows 150-155 degrees internally. Let the meat rest for at least 20 minutes, then remove the twine and slice. You should have lovely, well-seasoned pink lamb.
I served this with Sans Liege's Groundwork Grenache but a dry rose would go down nicely as well.
To feed four adults and four kids, I purchased a 4-lb. leg -- 4 lbs. after boning. To trim and season the leg, open the meat up like a book. You may need to make additional vertical cuts in the meat to get it to lay flat. It's fine to have two or three flaps of meat -- just be sure that you rub the seasoning all over the inside.
Remove all silverskin, then flip the meat over and trim of all excess fat from the skin side of the roast. I don't care for the taste of lamb fat, so I trim the fat down as much as possible while leaving a nice creamy cap. Butchering hint: Use a very sharp chef's knife on a clean cutting board that you use only for raw meat. If the cutting board is plastic, slip a wet paper towel under the board so it won't move around on you. Sharp knives and sliding boards are a dangerous combination. Also, put on an apron. If you don't get messy, you're probably not having enough fun.
Season the leg with ground juniper berries (1-2 tablespoons whole berries); kosher salt & tellicherry pepper; 6-7 cloves garlic, minced; 4-5 branches fresh rosemary, chopped; and the zest of two Meyer lemons (save the bald lemons -- you'll want them later). Roll up the leg and tie it together with 6-7 lengths of butcher's twine, wrapping both horizontally and vertically. The idea is to make a neat and even package of meat so that the meat roasts evenly. Don't worry if it's lumpy on one end; it is a leg, after all. Let the leg refrigerate overnight.
Take the leg out of the refrigerator 30 minutes before you want to start cooking. You want the roast to come to room temperature before it goes in the oven. Rub the outside of the leg with olive oil and sprinkle with salt and pepper. I got the lamb off to a sizzle at 475 degrees for 20-25 minutes. I then squeezed the juice from the bald lemons over the meat and added a large glass of wine to the pan. Turn the heat to 325 or 350, depending on how hot your oven runs, and flip the roast once or twice during cooking so that it brown evenly. After about a hour and a half of cooking, start checking the internal temperature of the meat. I find that it comes up medium rare-medium for me when the temperature shows 150-155 degrees internally. Let the meat rest for at least 20 minutes, then remove the twine and slice. You should have lovely, well-seasoned pink lamb.
I served this with Sans Liege's Groundwork Grenache but a dry rose would go down nicely as well.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Baked Beans
I can't think about baked beans without hearing Cliff Arquette's "big fat juicy beans" line from Waiting for Guffman. Anyway, these are juicy beans that freeze well. My daughter will eat a whole pan, if left to her own devices. I use Rancho Gordo's Yellow Indian Woman beans, when I can get them. They stay firm and creamy, even after hours in the oven.
The night before you want to cook the beans, sort and rinse two pounds of dried beans. Soak overnight. The beans will take at least six hours to cook after the overnight soak, so plan ahead. The next day, drain the beans and hold in the colander. Preheat your oven to 300 degrees. Score a hunk of salt pork and cut into two pieces. Place salt pork at the bottom of a large bean pot or Dutch oven. I have a large cast iron Dutch oven from Le Creuset that works very well. Halve an onion and stud each half with six whole cloves. Add to the pot alongside the salt pork. Pour the soaked, drained beans over the salt pork and onions but don't stir.
In a large sauce pan, bring the following ingredients to a simmer: five cups water; half cup dark molasses; half cup brown sugar (dark or light); 1 tablespoon and 1 teaspoon Colman's mustard powder; 1 tablespoon kosher salt; 2-3 teaspoons freshly ground black pepper; two bay leaves; and at least four chopped, canned plum tomatoes. If you are lucky enough to have some of Scott Peacock's Slow Roasted Tomatoes in your freezer (I had the last of the Early Girls peeled and roasted in a low oven with butter and brown sugar), use those instead of the canned tomatoes. After your ingredients are simmering and the sugar is dissolved, pour over the beans but, again don't stir. The liquid should cover the beans by an inch or two. If you don't have quite enough liquid, add a cup or two of hot water.
Cover beans and place in the middle of a hot oven. Check on them every 45 minutes or so to make sure they stay soupy. Add hot water as needed to achieve that end. After about five hours (and the house will smell so good that everyone will keep asking you when the beans will be ready until you write it out on the chalkboard), take off the lid and drag the salt pork to the top of the beans. Cook for the last hour uncovered. Shred the salt pork and add it back into the beans.
These beans go down well with just about anything, but are especially good with roast pork or a rack of spare ribs.
The night before you want to cook the beans, sort and rinse two pounds of dried beans. Soak overnight. The beans will take at least six hours to cook after the overnight soak, so plan ahead. The next day, drain the beans and hold in the colander. Preheat your oven to 300 degrees. Score a hunk of salt pork and cut into two pieces. Place salt pork at the bottom of a large bean pot or Dutch oven. I have a large cast iron Dutch oven from Le Creuset that works very well. Halve an onion and stud each half with six whole cloves. Add to the pot alongside the salt pork. Pour the soaked, drained beans over the salt pork and onions but don't stir.
In a large sauce pan, bring the following ingredients to a simmer: five cups water; half cup dark molasses; half cup brown sugar (dark or light); 1 tablespoon and 1 teaspoon Colman's mustard powder; 1 tablespoon kosher salt; 2-3 teaspoons freshly ground black pepper; two bay leaves; and at least four chopped, canned plum tomatoes. If you are lucky enough to have some of Scott Peacock's Slow Roasted Tomatoes in your freezer (I had the last of the Early Girls peeled and roasted in a low oven with butter and brown sugar), use those instead of the canned tomatoes. After your ingredients are simmering and the sugar is dissolved, pour over the beans but, again don't stir. The liquid should cover the beans by an inch or two. If you don't have quite enough liquid, add a cup or two of hot water.
Cover beans and place in the middle of a hot oven. Check on them every 45 minutes or so to make sure they stay soupy. Add hot water as needed to achieve that end. After about five hours (and the house will smell so good that everyone will keep asking you when the beans will be ready until you write it out on the chalkboard), take off the lid and drag the salt pork to the top of the beans. Cook for the last hour uncovered. Shred the salt pork and add it back into the beans.
These beans go down well with just about anything, but are especially good with roast pork or a rack of spare ribs.
Monday, January 24, 2011
Cooking in Corners
The title of this entry is a bastardization of one of my favorite Nanci Griffith songs:
Working in Corners.
Times are hard. My father is wandering slowly but surely toward his grave, and I've been back and forth from Tennessee to help my mother more times than I care to count. It might go without saying but the business of dying wears on the living. And no one ever seems to have the will or means to cook anything to eat. My mother and I have had made do with room service, fine lunches, hasty on-the-way lunches, and plates of salami and cheese instead of supper. For her part, Spouse in SF has kept the children fed with a steady diet of cold ham, pasta with butter and cheese, Green Chile Kitchen takeout, and Thai take-out. Everyone is feeling irritable and unappreciated.
Now usually my mother's freezer is a wonder to behold, stuffed with homemade stocks of all kinds, chili, goulash soup, beef stew, etc. When I arrived most recently at my mother's house, on the heels of the most bitter snowstorm in a century, the freezer was nearly bare. I found beef stock and some vegetable soup. I cannot abide vegetable soup. Something would have to be done. I fixed a martini and slumped over some cooking magazines. Snow, sorrow, and winter. Of course, I would make a pot of chili.
I hit on a recipe in Cooks' Illustrated, which I usually find much too fussy. I try to remember that these folks get paid to refine recipes ad nauseam, but I am usually just resentful and occasionally scornful (of course, you wouldn't add bread crumbs at that step!). I was intrigued, though, by two things in the chili recipe: (1) The opportunity to create a custom dried chile powder; and (2) the use of a 1-hour brine to prepare dried pinto beans for the chili pot. Hot dog. The next day, I hit the local Whole Foods, looking for pastured chuck roast (or blade roast, which was recommended as cheaper and more flavorful) and whole dried chiles. I found some pastured chuck roast, although it turned out to be pricey plus loaded with tendons and silverskin, and two dried chiles of a mild type. One was guajillo and the other was one I'd never heard of and have since forgotten but it had the advantage of listing its Scovill rating, which was in the medium-hot range.
Back in my mother's kitchen, I set to while she knitted in front of the fire and called out companionably once in a while. First, I took a cup of dried pinto beans (rinsed) and put them in a large pan with 4 quarts of water and about a quarter cup of salt. It seemed like an awful lot of water for one cup of beans, but I suppose they are earning their salaries at Cooks' Illustrated. Bring beans to a boil and then soak for one hour. While your beans are brining, take four or five of each kind of chile and remove the seeds and membranes. I always use powder-free surgical gloves when I work with chiles, fresh or dried, and you should, too. Then toast the chiles in a dry cast-iron pan until they are nice and brown but not burning. Take the pan off the fire and let the chiles cool.
Now you have two balls in the air, the beans and the chiles - time for more. You will need to add to your agenda at least two cups of homemade stock (preferably beef but chicken is fine), one large can chopped tomatoes, two medium onions (peeled and quartered), three tablespoons corn meal, a lager beer (I made do with a Miller Lite), three or four peeled and chopped fresh garlic cloves, and one fresh jalapeño (sans seeds and membranes).
Get out the food processor. Grind the dried chiles, add a pinch kosher salt, and a tablespoon of oil. Add one cup stock and the cornmeal, and pulse until it forms a paste. Scrape your chile paste into a bowl and set aside. Throw the quartered onions in the processor and chop. Add jalapeños to the chop. If you are using homemade stock, bring to a boil while fiddling with the paste and onions, then set aside.
Remove all silver skin and tendons from meat, and cut into bite-sized pieces. This can sound way easier than it turns out to be, but persevere. You want to end up up with at least three pounds trimmed beef. Brown in batches in a large cast-iron pan, salting lightly while in pan. Place browned beef on a big plate where you can collect the juices. When you are done with the last batch, you will deglaze the frypan with a half can of beer (make sure it is a lager style) and then add the beef, juices, and frypan lager to the mixture below. Take a slug of the beer remaining in the can and then set aside.
In a large pot, heat a couple of tablespoons of oil and sauté the onions and jalapeño until soft. Add a bit of salt. Add the garlic and sauté just until fragrant, about one minute. Add the tomatoes and mix well. Add the drained, brined beans and mix well. Make sure you really rinse the beans before adding to the pot. Now add the chile paste and bring to a simmer, stirring to ensure the paste is thoroughly blended. Add the beef with its juices, the leftover stock, and the remaining beer. Simmer covered for about an hour and a half, stirring occasionally.
Adjust seasonings and pick your garnish. Great accompaniments include grated sharp cheddar, sour cream, chopped onions, avocados, and chopped fresh cilantro. And you must drink beer if you are a drinking person. My current favorite is Mama's Little Yella Pils by Oskar Blues. The chili will feed about 6 hungry people.
Errata and Additional Comments
I made this chili last weekend to freeze for the Super Bowl and realized I left out a few key additions to the main recipe above. Once the mixture is together in the pot, add cumin, oregano, and cayenne pepper to taste. You also should add a tablespoon of molasses, particularly if you are using spicier chiles in the chile paste. For my latest batch, however, I toned down the kick by using only guajillo chiles for the paste - advisable for kids but not for grown-ups. Guajillos and ancho chiles are going to go in my next grown-up version. I also used masa harina instead of cornmeal, which didn't thicken as well as the cornmeal. This chili also would be good nacho-style, ladled on tortilla chips with melted cheese and all the fixings.
Working in Corners.
Times are hard. My father is wandering slowly but surely toward his grave, and I've been back and forth from Tennessee to help my mother more times than I care to count. It might go without saying but the business of dying wears on the living. And no one ever seems to have the will or means to cook anything to eat. My mother and I have had made do with room service, fine lunches, hasty on-the-way lunches, and plates of salami and cheese instead of supper. For her part, Spouse in SF has kept the children fed with a steady diet of cold ham, pasta with butter and cheese, Green Chile Kitchen takeout, and Thai take-out. Everyone is feeling irritable and unappreciated.
Now usually my mother's freezer is a wonder to behold, stuffed with homemade stocks of all kinds, chili, goulash soup, beef stew, etc. When I arrived most recently at my mother's house, on the heels of the most bitter snowstorm in a century, the freezer was nearly bare. I found beef stock and some vegetable soup. I cannot abide vegetable soup. Something would have to be done. I fixed a martini and slumped over some cooking magazines. Snow, sorrow, and winter. Of course, I would make a pot of chili.
I hit on a recipe in Cooks' Illustrated, which I usually find much too fussy. I try to remember that these folks get paid to refine recipes ad nauseam, but I am usually just resentful and occasionally scornful (of course, you wouldn't add bread crumbs at that step!). I was intrigued, though, by two things in the chili recipe: (1) The opportunity to create a custom dried chile powder; and (2) the use of a 1-hour brine to prepare dried pinto beans for the chili pot. Hot dog. The next day, I hit the local Whole Foods, looking for pastured chuck roast (or blade roast, which was recommended as cheaper and more flavorful) and whole dried chiles. I found some pastured chuck roast, although it turned out to be pricey plus loaded with tendons and silverskin, and two dried chiles of a mild type. One was guajillo and the other was one I'd never heard of and have since forgotten but it had the advantage of listing its Scovill rating, which was in the medium-hot range.
Back in my mother's kitchen, I set to while she knitted in front of the fire and called out companionably once in a while. First, I took a cup of dried pinto beans (rinsed) and put them in a large pan with 4 quarts of water and about a quarter cup of salt. It seemed like an awful lot of water for one cup of beans, but I suppose they are earning their salaries at Cooks' Illustrated. Bring beans to a boil and then soak for one hour. While your beans are brining, take four or five of each kind of chile and remove the seeds and membranes. I always use powder-free surgical gloves when I work with chiles, fresh or dried, and you should, too. Then toast the chiles in a dry cast-iron pan until they are nice and brown but not burning. Take the pan off the fire and let the chiles cool.
Now you have two balls in the air, the beans and the chiles - time for more. You will need to add to your agenda at least two cups of homemade stock (preferably beef but chicken is fine), one large can chopped tomatoes, two medium onions (peeled and quartered), three tablespoons corn meal, a lager beer (I made do with a Miller Lite), three or four peeled and chopped fresh garlic cloves, and one fresh jalapeño (sans seeds and membranes).
Get out the food processor. Grind the dried chiles, add a pinch kosher salt, and a tablespoon of oil. Add one cup stock and the cornmeal, and pulse until it forms a paste. Scrape your chile paste into a bowl and set aside. Throw the quartered onions in the processor and chop. Add jalapeños to the chop. If you are using homemade stock, bring to a boil while fiddling with the paste and onions, then set aside.
Remove all silver skin and tendons from meat, and cut into bite-sized pieces. This can sound way easier than it turns out to be, but persevere. You want to end up up with at least three pounds trimmed beef. Brown in batches in a large cast-iron pan, salting lightly while in pan. Place browned beef on a big plate where you can collect the juices. When you are done with the last batch, you will deglaze the frypan with a half can of beer (make sure it is a lager style) and then add the beef, juices, and frypan lager to the mixture below. Take a slug of the beer remaining in the can and then set aside.
In a large pot, heat a couple of tablespoons of oil and sauté the onions and jalapeño until soft. Add a bit of salt. Add the garlic and sauté just until fragrant, about one minute. Add the tomatoes and mix well. Add the drained, brined beans and mix well. Make sure you really rinse the beans before adding to the pot. Now add the chile paste and bring to a simmer, stirring to ensure the paste is thoroughly blended. Add the beef with its juices, the leftover stock, and the remaining beer. Simmer covered for about an hour and a half, stirring occasionally.
Adjust seasonings and pick your garnish. Great accompaniments include grated sharp cheddar, sour cream, chopped onions, avocados, and chopped fresh cilantro. And you must drink beer if you are a drinking person. My current favorite is Mama's Little Yella Pils by Oskar Blues. The chili will feed about 6 hungry people.
Errata and Additional Comments
I made this chili last weekend to freeze for the Super Bowl and realized I left out a few key additions to the main recipe above. Once the mixture is together in the pot, add cumin, oregano, and cayenne pepper to taste. You also should add a tablespoon of molasses, particularly if you are using spicier chiles in the chile paste. For my latest batch, however, I toned down the kick by using only guajillo chiles for the paste - advisable for kids but not for grown-ups. Guajillos and ancho chiles are going to go in my next grown-up version. I also used masa harina instead of cornmeal, which didn't thicken as well as the cornmeal. This chili also would be good nacho-style, ladled on tortilla chips with melted cheese and all the fixings.
Saturday, January 1, 2011
New Year's Day
In Tennessee, you must eat black-eyed peas for good luck on New Year's Day. Black-eyed peas are thought to represent wealth in coins, while collard greens symbolize greenbacks. Making a big pot of black-eyed peas is easy and, if you add rice, you have Hoppin' John. Here's how to make a pot of black-eyed peas.
Soak two pounds of peas in plenty of water overnight or for about 6 hours. Drain, and place in large dutch oven or other heavy pot. Add a ham hock, rinsed, a stalk of celery, a half of a yellow onion, two bay leaves, and a whole dried chile such as a guajillo. Don't add salt until the peas are cooked. Add cold water to cover by at least an inch or two.
Bring peas to a boil, and skim the meat scum that will come from the hock. Simmer (active bubbles but don't boil) for an hour. Check peas for tenderness. Once the peas are tender, remove the hock, celery, onion, bay leaves, and pepper. Remove excess water with a ladle until the peas are as soupy or as dry as you like. Remove good meat from the hock and chop finely. Throw ham back into the peas, and season to taste with salt and pepper.
Good luck!
Monday, December 27, 2010
Postponing Christmas Morning Headaches
This Christmas day, we had the pleasure of hosting our entire family, except for my father who is unfortunately too ill to travel. We therefore found ourselves in the enviable position of feeding, gifting, and caring for seven adults ranging in age from 30 to 72, and three children (our own) of ages five, five, and three. If you've ever endeavored to undertake a Christmas dinner, you know how much preparation it takes. How do you balance the final prep and stuff of the turkey -- managing to provide a stout breakfast to hold all until a late afternoon feast -- against the seemingly endless process of each family member individually unwrapping each gift? Here are my suggestions: strata, blood marys, and more bloody marys.
The strata is a lifesaver because you assemble it the day before and simply let it bake while you assemble the virgin bloody mary mix and garnishes. By the time your guests arrive, the aroma of bubbling gruyere will positively waft through your house. I advise assembling the virgin bloody mary mix in a large pitcher before your guests arrive, and adding vodka to suit individual tastes. While you are hustling around prepping the stuffing, ask a reliable family member to mix bloody marys for the family (except the children, although you may be sorely tempted).
Bloody Mary Mix
4 pints best-quality tomato juice (I used three pints Happy Girl dry-farmed with 1 pint Happy Girl spicy)
1 small bottle worcestershire, or more if you like
1/3 bottle of fresh creamed horseradish ( I use Bubbie's)
juice of one lemon
dozen dashes or so celery bitters
adobo sauce to taste
purified olive brine, if you have it
black pepper to taste, freshly ground
Mix well and chill. When it is time to pour, I use Skyy vodka but Smirnoff and Absolut are also fine choices. Go to a fun website like CB2 and invest in 50 or so all-purpose glasses that can be used for bloody marys, flutes, wine, or water glasses. If you hunt for sales, these glasses may be purchased for as little as 2 for 1$. That's a nice investment. No one wants to drink from paper or plastic. Garnish bloody marys with English cucumber spears, or Rick's Picks Smokra if you want to turn up the heat. Our friends Beth and Moira like to add a Hangar One Chipotle vodka float, for a real burn. It's up to you and your reliable friend.
Spinach Strata
My mother has prepared this strata at every holiday breakfast for time out of mind. It is vegetarian, although decidedly not vegan. Add any meat you like, except prosciutto. Prosciutto does not take to heat.
I'm going to give you the single-batch recipe, which will feed three children and four hungry adults. Double the recipe for a crowd. Hint: Pillivuyt bakers are well-priced and sturdy for casseroles etc.
8-10 slices best quality sturdy white bread
5 tbsp. unsalted butter, softened
4 medium shallots, minced
1 10 oz. frozen spinach, thawed and drained
6 oz. gruyere
6 large eggs
1 3/4 cup half and half
1/2 cup dry white wine
Dry the bread slices overnight. If you are pressed for time, dry the slices in a low (225 degree) oven. After the bread has dried, butter one side of each slice.
While bread is drying, or someone in the kitchen is idly drinking, delegate the task of grating the gruyere.
Saute shallots in 2 tbsp. butter. Add the drained spinach, mix, and season with salt and pepper. Set mixture aside. Add wine to hot pan and reduce by half.
Butter an 8" square baking dish, or rectangular equivalent. Layer half of the bread slices on the bottom, butter side up. Sprinkle the bread layer with half of the spinach mixture and and a quarter of the shredded gruyere. Add another layer of buttered bread slice, and repeat the spinach/gruyere sprinkle.
Whisk eggs, add half and half, and add wine reduction. Season with salt and pepper. Pour the egg, half and half, and wine mixture over the bread slices. With very clean hands, push down on the bread so that the egg mixture moistens the top of the the bread slices. Wrap pan loosely but firmly in cling film, and layer the top with a plate or two. Place heavy cans (for example, tomatoes) on top of plates so that the bread stays submerged in the egg mixture. Refrigerate overnight.
The next morning, pull the unbaked strata out of the refrigerator about 20 minutes or so before you want it in the oven. Preheat the oven to 325 degrees. Unwrap the strata and add the other half of the shredded gruyere. Bake for 50-55 minutes, or until top is thoroughly browned and bubbly. Serve hot.
After a slice or two of strata, and a good bloody mary, you will be well equipped to face the rigors of the morning.
The strata is a lifesaver because you assemble it the day before and simply let it bake while you assemble the virgin bloody mary mix and garnishes. By the time your guests arrive, the aroma of bubbling gruyere will positively waft through your house. I advise assembling the virgin bloody mary mix in a large pitcher before your guests arrive, and adding vodka to suit individual tastes. While you are hustling around prepping the stuffing, ask a reliable family member to mix bloody marys for the family (except the children, although you may be sorely tempted).
Bloody Mary Mix
4 pints best-quality tomato juice (I used three pints Happy Girl dry-farmed with 1 pint Happy Girl spicy)
1 small bottle worcestershire, or more if you like
1/3 bottle of fresh creamed horseradish ( I use Bubbie's)
juice of one lemon
dozen dashes or so celery bitters
adobo sauce to taste
purified olive brine, if you have it
black pepper to taste, freshly ground
Mix well and chill. When it is time to pour, I use Skyy vodka but Smirnoff and Absolut are also fine choices. Go to a fun website like CB2 and invest in 50 or so all-purpose glasses that can be used for bloody marys, flutes, wine, or water glasses. If you hunt for sales, these glasses may be purchased for as little as 2 for 1$. That's a nice investment. No one wants to drink from paper or plastic. Garnish bloody marys with English cucumber spears, or Rick's Picks Smokra if you want to turn up the heat. Our friends Beth and Moira like to add a Hangar One Chipotle vodka float, for a real burn. It's up to you and your reliable friend.
Spinach Strata
My mother has prepared this strata at every holiday breakfast for time out of mind. It is vegetarian, although decidedly not vegan. Add any meat you like, except prosciutto. Prosciutto does not take to heat.
I'm going to give you the single-batch recipe, which will feed three children and four hungry adults. Double the recipe for a crowd. Hint: Pillivuyt bakers are well-priced and sturdy for casseroles etc.
8-10 slices best quality sturdy white bread
5 tbsp. unsalted butter, softened
4 medium shallots, minced
1 10 oz. frozen spinach, thawed and drained
6 oz. gruyere
6 large eggs
1 3/4 cup half and half
1/2 cup dry white wine
Dry the bread slices overnight. If you are pressed for time, dry the slices in a low (225 degree) oven. After the bread has dried, butter one side of each slice.
While bread is drying, or someone in the kitchen is idly drinking, delegate the task of grating the gruyere.
Saute shallots in 2 tbsp. butter. Add the drained spinach, mix, and season with salt and pepper. Set mixture aside. Add wine to hot pan and reduce by half.
Butter an 8" square baking dish, or rectangular equivalent. Layer half of the bread slices on the bottom, butter side up. Sprinkle the bread layer with half of the spinach mixture and and a quarter of the shredded gruyere. Add another layer of buttered bread slice, and repeat the spinach/gruyere sprinkle.
Whisk eggs, add half and half, and add wine reduction. Season with salt and pepper. Pour the egg, half and half, and wine mixture over the bread slices. With very clean hands, push down on the bread so that the egg mixture moistens the top of the the bread slices. Wrap pan loosely but firmly in cling film, and layer the top with a plate or two. Place heavy cans (for example, tomatoes) on top of plates so that the bread stays submerged in the egg mixture. Refrigerate overnight.
The next morning, pull the unbaked strata out of the refrigerator about 20 minutes or so before you want it in the oven. Preheat the oven to 325 degrees. Unwrap the strata and add the other half of the shredded gruyere. Bake for 50-55 minutes, or until top is thoroughly browned and bubbly. Serve hot.
After a slice or two of strata, and a good bloody mary, you will be well equipped to face the rigors of the morning.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Grandmaw Peacock's Chicken and Rice
I don't have a Grandmaw Peacock but Scott Peacock does, and she sure knew how to spin straw into gold, culinarily speaking. If you bless Lee Bailey for his pork chops and rice, as I do, you will surely place Grandmaw Peacock in the same pantheon of home cooking heroes and heroines. Now, listen up. This dish is best cooked on a rainy or snowy cold night, particularly if anyone in the house feels a cold coming on.
You need four basic food items for this recipe: a cut-up chicken, an onion, a stalk of celery, and 1 and 1/3 cup white rice. You'll also need butter, water, and salt - but if you don't have those items on hand at all times, I can't help you.
As Scott Peacock recounts, melt two tablespoons of butter in a large cast-iron Dutch oven. I have a big round one with "30" stamped on the lid from the Le Creuset factory story. Cut up your chicken into 10 pieces and sprinkle liberally with kosher salt. Use a lot of salt; I am not kidding. Toss your chicken pieces in the butter and brown lightly for about five minutes. Use the back, and the neck if you have it, because you will be making stock in which to cook the rice right in that pan. After you have lightly browned the chicken, pop in the onion and celery stalk, cover tightly, and cook over a low heat for about 20 minutes. Add five cups of water and keep at a low-medium simmer for about 35 minutes, with the pot partially covered.
After about 35 minutes, remove the onion and celery and then stir in the rice. Taste the broth - it should be salty. If not, add some salt. Cover the pot tightly and cook for another 30 minutes or so. The rice should be good and soupy, and the chicken should be fork tender. Sprinkle some chopped parsley over the chicken and rice for color. Add a green salad, or some roasted sprouts, for a fine full meal.
Thank you, Grandmaw Peacock.
You need four basic food items for this recipe: a cut-up chicken, an onion, a stalk of celery, and 1 and 1/3 cup white rice. You'll also need butter, water, and salt - but if you don't have those items on hand at all times, I can't help you.
As Scott Peacock recounts, melt two tablespoons of butter in a large cast-iron Dutch oven. I have a big round one with "30" stamped on the lid from the Le Creuset factory story. Cut up your chicken into 10 pieces and sprinkle liberally with kosher salt. Use a lot of salt; I am not kidding. Toss your chicken pieces in the butter and brown lightly for about five minutes. Use the back, and the neck if you have it, because you will be making stock in which to cook the rice right in that pan. After you have lightly browned the chicken, pop in the onion and celery stalk, cover tightly, and cook over a low heat for about 20 minutes. Add five cups of water and keep at a low-medium simmer for about 35 minutes, with the pot partially covered.
After about 35 minutes, remove the onion and celery and then stir in the rice. Taste the broth - it should be salty. If not, add some salt. Cover the pot tightly and cook for another 30 minutes or so. The rice should be good and soupy, and the chicken should be fork tender. Sprinkle some chopped parsley over the chicken and rice for color. Add a green salad, or some roasted sprouts, for a fine full meal.
Thank you, Grandmaw Peacock.
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