February!

Okay so February isn't here until tomorrow. Nevertheless, it's arrival means I've successfully added four new dishes and six ingredients to my list of culinary goodies:

• Maitake mushrooms
• Kohlrabi
• Radishes
• Celeriac
• Swiss Chard
• Rutabaga

All to create dishes such as:

• Grilled Halibut with Spinach and Thai Chiles over Maitake Quinoa
• Bacon-butter Braised Chicken with Celeriac and Roasted Vegetables
• Candied Radishes with Vanilla Ice Cream and Bacon Caramel
• Salad of Arugula, Avocado, Grapefruit and Baked Salt and Pepper Radish Chips
• Stuffed Swiss Chard Purses 

And what have I learned so far, one month into this resolution?

1. I'm terrible at going to the Farmer's Market and focusing on buying just what I need.

2. I can indeed make a meal without using bacon or bacon grease (But why?)

3. A little bit of (soy) cream goes a long way with mushrooms.

4. Braising meat will always yield a super moist end result (I braised boneless pork chops last week. Succulent...and, believe it or not...moist!).

What's February going to bring? I have ideas...perhaps extending the new ingredients beyond the realm of fruits and vegetables?

More to follow...

Week Four: The Story

If you could put every warm feeling of winter -- wool mittens, your favorite sweatshirt right out of the dryer, the warmth of a coffee cup on your hands, the steam of tea -- and pair it against the coldest day of the season -- just miserable with such a bone-aching chill that it takes every iota of strength, courage and iron-will to get out of bed --

You have those two yin and yangs juxtaposed against each other?

Good.

Now just recall how truly, almost other-worldly that warm feeling is when you finally get out of that cold and...

Well...

Then...

You'll have some kind of idea as to how fantastic the vegetarian stuffing filled chard purses were.

Hold on. I need a moment.

Feel free to entertain yourself with this.

Okay. I'm ready.

Pre-leek-tied purse.

The stuffing turned out really great, especially with the warm savory mouth of the chard. I'll admit, in lieu of butter, I opted for a nice healthy dollop of (You guessed it) bacon grease to saute my vegetables in. The bacon grease added an unbelievably savory and subtly smoky flavor.

I'm sorry Meghann; I know you were hoping I wouldn't 'ruin it with bacon' but what can I say? The little blue bowl of warm bacon grease just spoke to me and the greedy little fat kid in me who would kill for that umami taste and texture just couldn't help herself.  Trust me, considering my growing waistline and the fact that I'm supposed to using this cooking experience to be uhm, healthy and sustainable (Which okay, bacon grease isn't healthy but I've got a solid argument that it does, indeed fall into the sustainable, oh-so-Portland tail-to-nose cooking ideology), she's definitely getting a time out in the corner (Followed by another early a.m. ten mile run).

Yeah, you can get an idea of
how small my kitchen really is.

Sidebar conversation aside, the purses were, I'll admit, kind of a pain to make. I'm actually pretty baffled that Epicurious/Gourmet suggested it as an appetizer. I mean, as much I love cooking and entertaining and wowing guests with pretty looking and amazingly tasting food, I'd have to have my arm twisted pretty hard to make these as more than just a meal (Which actually, they're quite filling and can easily stand alone as a hearty vegetarian dish -- hint, hint Piper, Ariel and all you vegetarians and vegans out there. To make it vegan, just use olive oil and swap the recipe's chicken broth for vegetable broth and perhaps add an extra pinch of salt to make up for the flat flavor of veggie broth). After all, one bunch of chard, which was about eight leaves thick, yielded six small-to-medium sized purses.

While a pain in the rear, they were still so so so worth it.

Really, had I chard in my fridge right now, considering I've still got half a loaf of stuffing...yeah, I'd definitely make them again. Right here, right now.

The great thing about that would be the fact that prep time would last no more than 20 minutes (as opposed to the 90 minutes I spent during round one) and, knowing what I know now (See tips below), I'm pretty certain they'd be even better. 

This one was special.
It needed a lot of leeks.

If you do make these (Which I so so so so SO recommend), keep these tips in mind:

1. Blanch your chard one leaf at a time. Pat dry them immediately after, otherwise, as I talked about before, the water will start to break your leaf down faster than a Portlander can put a bird on something and call it art.

2. Dry your blanched leeks asap too, for the aforementioned reason.
3. Make the stuffing ahead of time. It's not that time consuming to chop a bunch of veggies, but combined with everything else, you could save yourself a solid hour when you're hungry for some winter loving by making the stuffing ahead of time.

4. Use bacon grease. Like really. It's delicious.
5. Get creative with the stuffing. Really, my stuffing was more of a what's-in-the-fridge concoction. You can really play with the flavors, omitting the sage and Craisins for a less-Thanksgiving taste, adding paprika or curry for smoky, curried flavors, adding meat or a par-cooked grain like quinoa for extra carbs. 

Culinary Concoctions Week Four: Swiss Chard Purses with Vegetable Stuffing

I'll admit right off the bat with this meal that the swiss chard purses were not from my own brain but instead from the professional brain trust that was Gourmet (May that magazine rest in peace).

The stuffing is my own though.

Since I'm a bit lazy today and know the recipe, with directions, is online, I'll just do this thing...and force you to Epicurious for the recipe.

I will however, detail my vegetarian stuffing recipe:

Winter Vegetable Stuffing


Ingredients
4 cups dried bread pieces
3 TBSP butter
1/2 cup soy cream
1 apple, diced
1/4 cup pine nuts, roughly chopped
1 cup leeks (white part only), chopped
1/4 cup craisins, roughly chopped
Chard stems, diced
2 kohlrabi, peeled and diced
1 small white onion, diced
3 cloves garlic, minced
2 TBSP fresh sage, chopped
4 radishes, chopped
1 carrot, peeled and diced
2 eggs

Directions
Preheat oven to 375.
Soak bread in cream for 15 minutes, until softened. Drain excess cream.
Heat large skillet on medium-high and melt butter.
Add all vegetables, salt and pepper. Saute for 10 minutes.
Remove from heat. Add bread crumbs. Mix together.
Add eggs. Mix with hands until the whole stuffing mix is nice and coated.
Spoon stuffing into glass baking pan.
Bake for 45 minutes.

Story to follow!

Culinary Concoctions Week Four: The Ingredient

Hello Swiss chard. Silverbeet. Perpetual spinach. Spinach beet. Crab beet. Seakale beet.

Mangold.

I like that last one the best I think.

However you call it, chard is one of the vegetables synonymous with wintry comfort foods, even if its peak season is between July and August. That's just one of the great things about Portland -- it's freaky deaky  growing climate allows for thick, luscious vegetation to grow year round. And I love it.

Of course, chard isn't native to Portland. Nor is it native to Switzerland, despite the name, which simply comes from the fact that it needed to be differentiated from French chard. Why someone decided with Swiss is unbeknown to me still (Let's face it; sometimes I'm lazy with my research). It is, in fact, native to the Mediterranean region, first traced back to Sicily (Like all good things -- heck, it's called God's Kitchen for crying out loud!) and it's been around for freaking ever. Aristotle actually wrote about it during the fourth century BC.

Yeah; it's that bad ass of a vegetable. But here's how I came upon it for this week's ingredient:

Sunday's farmer's market gander left me with a slew of goodies. While the carrots, carrot honey (Yes! Carrot honey!!), farm fresh eggs, sunchoke (More on that baby next week) and slew of baked goods (Darn you Baker and Spice; my waist line is not enjoying the pies, lemon tarts and slices of garden bread and crumb cake) were awesome grabs, I was mostly excited about the gorgeous rainbow chard I picked up: A thick fan of NBA-basketball-palm-sized leaves of dark green held together with stalks of bright reds and oranges.

The richness of the colors just blow my mind. And it's no wonder; they're so vivid and bright because chard is freaking chock full of vitamins and nutrients; just one serving has over 700% of your recommended daily value (RDV) of Vitamin K, over 200% of your RDV of Vitamin A and just a hair over 50% of your RDV of Vitamin C.  It's no wonder it ranks second only to spinach as one of the healthiest and most nutrient-rich vegetables.

Oddly enough, water starts breaking chard down almost immediately. That's why, when storing it, you want it to be nice and dry and in a cool place. You also don't want to wash it until cooking as, like I said before, exposure to water encourages spoiling. And I think anyone who has been forced to muck out the vegetable drawer in desperate need of cleaning knows that there are few things as disgusting as rotten leafy greens (I think a rotten tomato just barely trumps the foul odor and brown vomit-inducing sliminess of rotten greens).

That said, when it does come time to cooking chard, it's typically best to remove the stems and center ribs of the leaves as they can be super hard to eat and thus super hard to digest. Braising is the best. Sauteeing chopped chard is another option. Eating it raw? Goooooood luck. You'll be chewing for days.

Bacon Caramel: Boozy Dessert Style

Boy oh boy.

While I may have been more lax and lazy last week with cooking, I think I more than made up for it over the weekend with baking.

The weekend, for those of you who didn't know, Sunday was National Pie Day which coupled oh-so-nicely with Baker and Spice bakery's sixth anniversary (And I apologize for not actually informing everyone before hand; in retrospect, telling you after the fact seems a bit cruel considering you've got to wait 364 more days until the next National Pie Day). They held a pie baking contest which, after I casually dropped that factoid during trivia, Jason immediately averred that I should enter it.

Which I so totally did.

Apple Pie with Oat Streusel and
Bourbon Bacon Caramel Drizzle

I recreated Thanksgiving's apple pie: Apple Pie with Oat Streusel (Thanks Bon Appetit) but topped it off with lavish drizzle of bourbon bacon caramel.

The pie looked...oh, fantastic. And smelled like comfort food heaven, sweet with cinnamon sugar warmth that played harmoniously with the melody of apples which...oh baby, oh baby mingled with the smoky kick of the bourbon and bacon grease. Poor Jason. (Well I say 'poor' but don't really mean it -- let's remember that entering the pie contest WAS HIS idea after all)  I've never seen a grown man so unbelievably distraught while maintaining such iron-willed resistance than Jason, holding the still-warm, unbelievably aromatic apple pie for the entire 18 minute drive up to Hillsdale.

Without eating it.

Sure, his nose was never less than half an inch away from its crumbly, caramely top and, if I recall correctly, he verbalized no fewer than five scenarios that inadvertently put that pie into his mouth, without requiring him to take blame.

Unfortunately, my little pie didn't win. However, I do get to pick up a Thanks-for-playing $10 gift card to Sweet Wares (Which I think I'm going to drop on a pastry cutter I keep always wishing I had). And, while I didn't have crust to make a second pie, I did make a crumble-crust, using flour, sugar, brown sugar, oats, cinnamon and...of course, bacon grease in lieu of butter, for a crumbly, crispy apple pie that really, regardless of what the professionals think, is a winner in my book.

Butter. Nice, fatty cold creamy butter.

And for your viewing pleasure: I also made (For my friend Meghann who FREAKISHLY, at least in my eyes, doesn't like pork) a dark chocolate caramel, SANS bacon grease, which apparently made one the best caramel latte/mochas ever.

Yes Megs, it's officially in the mail and on its way to you.

Dark Chocolate Caramel Sauce

Week Three: The Story

So it turns out...when I have a crazy week of work, coupled with the insane ticket price of crowns these days, my culinary concoctions tend to get pushed to the proverbial, though in no way ironic, back burner.

Cooking with some a new ingredient was, I'll admit, a bit of a wash this week. While I've never actually COOKED with radishes before (Suuuuure I'll have them in salad or as crudites but baking or cooking with them? Naaaah), I have eaten them at least a couple of handful of times in my life, making me feel as though I've only kinda sorta maybe a teeny tiny itty bitty cheated with the whole non-resolution deal.

It was a hell of a week last week -- which I'm so using as an excuse -- so sue me. Although don't really; you won't get much. Really, just hold me accountable enough to push me to make something really awesome with wicked strange and new ingredients this next month. Deal? Deal.

Eh, anyway. Where was I?

Right. Baked radishes. The first attempt turned out...candied, for sure, but not quite as baked as I would have liked. Sliced, cleaned and doused in a hearty coating of cinnamon-sugary goodness, the radish slices ended up caramelizing and hardening on the outside (Duh) but staying soft on the inside. While the flavor of the fresh root and sweet sugar created this heavenly aromatic earthy candy flavor, the texture of the hardened sugar didn't fly too well against the gooey inside. It's like one of those candies that has a great flavor but texture that kind of makes you wonder, by the time you swallowed it, why you let your tongue and mouth suffer that awkward texture metamorphosis.

Round two of radishes just happened (Pictures to be added soon). THIS time around I went without the sugary goodness (I had a weekend of baked good extravaganza-ness), instead baking the radishes THEN sifting them a shake of garlic salt, for a crunchy, tangy, earthy chip that's going to be hard pressed to see its way to Tuesday.

Culinary Concoctions Week Three: Candied Radish Chips with Vanilla Ice Cream and (You guessed it) Bacon Caramel

I knooooooooow. It's WEDNESDAY and I haven't blogged all freaking week.

It's killing me (Or doing much worse things to me according to my work pal Johnathon -- yeah, you know what I'm talking about mate).

So finally, while the boy cooks up an amazing dinner for me, I'm sitting and blogging about the recipe I'm finally getting around to making.

While they're not black radishes, I am using the lovely red and purple bunches I got from the farmer's market nearly two weeks ago to make a dessert.

Or, to hopefully make a dessert. I know you can bake radishes but can you make them candied and sweet?

Only the following story (ie; tomorrow or Friday's blog) will tell. For now, the recipe.

Candied Radish Chips (With Vanilla [soy] Ice Cream and Bacony Caramel)


Ingredients
2 bunches of red, purple or black radishes
3 TBSP cinnamon
1/2 cup sugar
Pinch of nutmeg
Pinch or two of cocoa powder

Directions
Mix dry ingredients together. Wash and pat dry radishes. Remove stalk and root ends. Using a mandolin, thinly and evenly slice radishes. Coat with sugar mixture. Bake at 375 degrees for 10 minutes on foiled or parchment-covered cookie sheet. Flip, bake for another 5 to 10 minutes, or until crispy.

Serve warm, like mini biscotti or wafer cookies, with vanilla ice cream and warmed bacon caramel.

PS If it doesn't work or I alter it, I'll of course, let you all know. Wish me luck!

Week Two: The Story

I have to preface this blog entry with the big whiny complain that I ruined my favorite pair of pants last night. So here goes:

(Imagine me, face scrunched up into a pursed-lip, eyebrow-furrowed scowl, perhaps with a quivering chin that's fighting oh-so-hard to combat the onslaught of tears that rest behind my watery, pained eyes)

"I caaaaaaaaan't beeeeeliiiiiiiiiieve I ruuuuuuuined my cords last night. They're gooooooood pants. Uuuuuuuuugh. My faaaaaaaaaavorite and I juuuuuuuuuuuuuust bought them like twoooooooo months ago."

(Imagine me, red faced, streaming tears, pouting like a spoiled 15-year-old brat who is sooooo toooootally bummed that daddy didn't buy her a 2011 whatever-car-teens-are-hot-for-these-days)

Ahem. That's out of the way.

Yes; this buttery broth now
 speckles my favorite cords.

Aside from the pant-ruining snafu -- which, I'd like to put out there, didn't actually occur until after the meal was sitting happily inside of our stomachs and we were cleaning up and I idiotically believed I could pour liquid from a 12 inch skillet into a container three inches wide without spilling it all over the counter, the floor and myself -- last night's cooking frenzy was a big hit. Which I so totally needed. Unsurprisingly, I had finished a crazy day at AngelVision, full of clients who can't make up their mind and/or think that I'm twelve years old, and was exhausted, worn down and feeling a bit down in the dumps.

After a quick four mile run in freakishly warm weather (Warm being high 40's, a far distant cry from Tuesday night's freezing temperatures and freezing rain), I rinsed off then headed over to Jason and Co's to begin the orchestration of a very wintery-ingredient meal.

Ahhhhh. Being in the kitchen rinsed off all the stress and self doubts I had just experienced two hours prior, replacing those Negative Nancy worries with culinary confidence and might.

Colorful, even for chicken.

Of course, I hadn't braised chicken before but I think it turned out pretty fantastic. While I could have crisped up the skin for another couple of minutes, the flavor of the bacon, sage and butter really shined. That said, the extra butter in between the skin and the meat isn't necessary to keep the meat moist (And if you want a truer chicken flavor, omit the bacon and sage of course) but it adds an incredibly creamy and full-body bite to the celeriac pieces, which fried up in oil with the garlic before simmering in the buttery chicken broth.

Winter in a pan. 

Admittedly, I overcooked the squash a bit while leaving the beets a bit too al dente but to Jason, who had never before had butternut squash, roasted beets, parsnips, celeriac or rutabaga (I also had never had rutabaga or celeriac), was surprisingly pleased to find out how much he liked them.

His exact quotation? "The chicken was fucking fantastic but I really dug the veggies."

Music to an amateur chef's ears (Regardless that it came from my doting boyfriend).

My new favorite veggie.

My favorite piece of the meal was actually the celeriac. Raw, it really emits an aroma of parsley and earthiness...an odd olfactory pleasure of fresh, clean dirt. Being so starchy, like a potato, the celeriac really took the flavor of the chicken-butter-garlic-bacon broth, transforming it into a melt-in-your-mouth, rich yet clean delicacy. I think I found my new favorite vegetable.

Then again, anything that takes on bacony-garlicky-chickeny-butter with so much gusto is a favorite in my book.

Just missing the crab...

I just wish my pants didn't take it on so well.

Until next week.

Oh PS: My favorite salad, though not chock full of super seasonal ingredients: Avocado (duh) and grapefruit.

Culinary Concoctions Week Two: Bacon-Butter Braised Chicken with Celeriac and Roasted Root Vegetables

Last night's recipe using Pacific Village chicken from New Seasons and local celeriac, rutabaga, parsnips and beets.

Bacon-Butter Braised Chicken with Garlic and Celeriac
Ingredients
3 lbs. chicken parts (breasts, thighs or drumsticks with skin and bones)
1 head of garlic, minced
1 medium to large celeriac (About 1 1/2 lb)
5 strips bacon, cooked crisp and chopped finely
1/2 stick of unsalted butter, room temperature
2-3 cups of chicken broth
2 TBSP chopped fresh sage
2 TBSP olive oil
Salt and Pepper

Directions
Peel skin of celeriac with a paring knife. Slice into potato-chip size portions. Set aside with minced garlic.
Combine chopped bacon, sage and butter in container. Incorporate well. Set aside.
Rinse chicken. Pat dry. Carefully separate skin from meat. You can probably do this with your fingers but you might have to start it with a paring knife. Do not completely take skin off. Rub meat under skin with bacon-sage butter. (Call me Paula Deen, but you can't overdo this). Salt and pepper outside of chicken lightly.
Heat olive oil in 12 inch skillet on med-high.
When ready (You'll know it's ready when you splash a bit of water on the oil and it sizzles), place chicken skin side down into skillet. Fry up, about 9 minutes.
Remove chicken and place on plate.
Add garlic and celeriac to skillet. Fry for 8 minutes.
Return chicken, skin side up. Add chicken broth, reduce heat to simmer and cover. Dark meat takes about 23 minutes, white meat requires about 28.

You should have a lot of excess broth the chicken is done. Save this for stock! Place in container, let cool to room temperature and skim fat off before refrigerating.

Roasted Root Vegetables
Ingredients
2 carrots
2 parsnips
2 beets
1 rutabaga
1 butternut squash
Salt and pepper
2 TBSP balsamic vinegar
2 TBSP olive oil

Directions
Preheat oven to 425.
Peel and chop all vegetables to similar sizes except butternut squash. Cut slightly larger, as it'll roast faster.
Wash all chopped vegetables.
Place in large baking pan.
Douse in oil, vinegar, salt and pepper. Mix with hands.
Make a tent with aluminum foil over the pan, making sure there are no air gaps.
Roast in oven for 45-60 minutes, depending on preferred tooth. I found that 55 minutes was perfect!

Plating
Pile middle of plate with celeriac (Use slotted spoon to plate)
Scoop roasted vegetables onto one side of celeriac.
Place chicken resting perpendicular onto both vegetables.
If desired, spoon 2 TBSP of garlicky-chicken stock over chicken and onto plate.
Dig in!

Yes....the bacon caramel latte happened

Warning: This blog post contains adult-language which, undeniably so, is the only way to really, truly describe what you're about to see and what you'll so so so SO want to taste.

While I have yet to be able to try it (Dairy and everything), these are the words I've heard thus far about the bacon-caramel latte:

"Man it's good. Like so fucking good."

"It's sweet, but not too sweet and the bacon so comes through."

"It's a good ass latte."

Okay...so that's all Jason saying that. Whatever. We've got another victim...oh, I can't believe victim is the right word...trying one later on today. Will report after that.

Back to the grind (And no...sadly, not the coffee grind)...

And here's the bacony-caramel macchiato:

Culinary Concoctions Week Two: Starting From Scratch

So...I couldn't find black radishes at the farmer's market on Sunday.

I know, I know. SUCH a disappointment.

In all reality, I do think they were there; I just arrived too late. The vendor, from Ayers Creek Farm, who was supposed to have it really had sold most of his products by the time we arrived. Luckily, we managed to gather kohlrabi as well as one of the gnarliest vegetables I've ever seen: celeriac.

Celeriac, which has been dubbed as the vegetable octopus though is also known as celery root, turnip-rooted celery and knob celery is native to the Mediterranean region. The first evidence of its cultivation has been linked to Egyptian graves circa 1100 BC. The Greeks called it selinon and it's mentioned in Homer's Odyssey. 


Speaking of The Odyssey, I recently submitted a poem dubbed Odysseus to a literary journal called Line Zero. It was chosen for publication. That's right. I'm being published! As a poet.

Okay, self plugging promotion and unbelievable random tangent aside...

Celeriac can be eaten raw or cooked. It's tough, furrowed outer surface usually needs to be sliced off, as opposed to peeled (I can only assume by how gnarly and nobby this thing is that my $2 peeler from IKEA won't last), though, I have a hunch that celeriac could be roasted, just like bell pepper, with it's skin on to produce a creamy, rich delicious starch.

After all, celeriac acts very similar to potatoes and can be served in the same fashion; mashed, pureed, fried, baked or roasted. I imagine it'll make killer soup too.

I think I'll be using the celeriac tomorrow night in a roasted vegetable medley. I've yet to decide. After all, I did arm myself with two purple and two green kohlrabi. Also known as the German turnip, kohlrabi can be eaten raw or cooked. When cooked, the texture is similar to broccoli stalks or cabbage heart and a young kohlrabi stem can be as crisp and juicy as an apple.

While I couldn't find black radishes, I did pick up a fresh bunch of red radishes which will find their way into this week's dinner menu too. For now, I'm going to keep noshing on the fresh lox and cured meat while staring longingly at the goat milk cheese we picked.

Recipes to follow tomorrow!

PS: Read this sweet article from NPR if you want to geek out more on celeriac.

Bacon Caramel

I'll admit -- and if you know me and are familiar with most of the cooking I do these days -- using bacon grease in my sweet culinary concoctions isn't unfamiliar territory.

It's far, far from.

What started with smoky molasses cookies quickly morphed into bacon cornbread, bacon pumpkin muffins, bacony no-bake cookies and, as of recently, bacon caramel.

Yes, that's caramel made with bacon grease in lieu of butter.

I know, I know; it's not what one would call healthy.

Blame Christmas. Or rather, blame Jason and Clara for shoving Christmas spirit so far down my throat that I went on a baking and holiday cooking frenzy, whipping up my regular batch of cookies plus recipes for hot cocoa, chai tea and caramel.

Now, the caramel didn't begin as bacon caramel. Considering the popular coffee-caramel duo (Not a personal favorite of mine, but I get how the flavor profile works, not to mention the fact that having caramel, thanks to the hefty amount of whipping cream it requires, would make my stomach flip flop like my dad's on a ferris wheel.), I first thought up of coffee flavored caramel, using instant coffee (Real espresso would have been so much better but a girl without an espresso machine has to compromise).

That first batch didn't work out...not so much because of the flavors, but because, when it comes to making caramel (Actually when it comes to making most things), I was too impatient with the sugar (1 1/3 cup sugar and 6 TSBPs water). When making caramel, you've got to really let the sugar (derrrr) caramelize; it takes about 8 or 9 minutes of constant boiling, while occasionally brushing the sides with a wet pastry brush to really get the sugar where you want it.


Not only will its golden color be indicative of its readiness, but when you pour in the cream (2/3 cup) and fat (1/3 cup), it'll bubble up and release lots of steam (My poor right hand is currently ailing from a hefty bout of bacony-caramel steam).

Unfortunately, with that first batch of coffee caramel, I didn't get that bubbling steam. All I got was a little bit of melting...which meant that the caramel didn't thicken up, leaving me with a syrupy coffee-flavored syrup.

Hands on my hips, I realized my mistake and began again...

Yes, that's a 2 cup pyrex of bacon grease

...and that's when I saw it, sitting so complacently and innocently on my counter. Beckoning with its halo of smoky, saturated fat deliciousness...one of three coffee cup containers of bacon grease that Jason had been saving for me.

Cue light bulb in my mind.

Thus bacon caramel was born. Unfortunately, nobody got to actually enjoy that batch, save for a mere finger lick, thanks to a gang of TSA bullies who used their jerk-headed might and big muscles and weapons and super scary threats to confiscate the jar of bacon caramel I made for Jason's parents, wrapped in a nice Christmas ribbon and all, from Jason's death grip vice (He offered to eat it to prove that his girlfriend's Christmas gift to his parents wasn't actually a homemade bomb). All 16 ounces of bacony sweetness into the trash.

Bastards.

The batch that didn't work out. 

But today friends, today was a glooooorious day. As anyone might expect after reading the above prologue, today was bacon caramel-making day. Much like the coffee caramel, I lacked patience with my sugar and ended up with more of a bacon caramel simple syrup that didn't thicken up. Rest assured, it won't go to waste; Jason's taking it to the coffee shop tomorrow with him to experiment with lattes and macchiatos...so for any Portlanders who read my blog and are curious in this concoction, maybe juuuuuuuust maybe you can con him into whipping up a bacon caramel latte.

Okay sidebar: Speaking of new latte flavors, we went to Baker and Spice today after the farmer's market and had a maple latte. They make their own maple, in barrels and everything. Oh man aliiiiiiiive it was delicious. End sidebar.

The batch that did. 

Luckily, rounds two and three of bacon caramel worked out perfectly. Thick, luscious, golden brown caramel. Two batches with a little honey and two batches with a little dark molasses; the latter which is the apex, thus far, of bacony caramel goodness.

My mind's already racking up tweaked recipes....paprika and chili pepper for a smoky spice, the oh-so-loved sea salt, maple sugar, bourbon...

The possibilities are endless. Unfortunately my bacon grease supply is not. And that only means one thing.

Bring on the bacon!

My Resources

Let's face it, I'm not just a swimming pool of culinary knowledge. I have resources. I figured, so at least you all know (Whoever you all are, aside from my mother, friend Meghann and occasional UP alumus) I'm not just making stuff up and, if you're curious in conducting further solitary research on something I write or cook about that (Good god hopefully!) strikes your fancy, you'll know where to go.

First, and easiest, my go-to web resources:

Oregon Environmental Council: Sure I geek out on figuring out what's in season in Oregon on this site but it's also a super helpful resource for what we can do now, easily, from our teeny tiny Northwest Portland apartments to make and keep our awesome state...errr...awesome!

Oregon Fresh: It's a  better resource than the OEC for finding local fruits and vegetables that are in season, year round. I wish it gave me information about meat and seafood.

Sustainable Table: This is a sweet site because it provides information on seasonal ingredients for each state. What's more, it goes more in-depth, dividing each month in early and late season. It also helps you locate farmers markets nearby your abode. (For my Butte-dwelling family, did you know there was one on Park and Main!?)

New Seasons: The website offers a lot of great information about what's in store now -- which you know, as it's part of New Seasons' mantra, that it's fresh, local and in season.

Epicurious: Because...well, you know...sometimes I need a little bit of inspiration.

For my in-house, non-web references:

The New Food Lover's Companion: I love love love love love LOVE this book. It's a mini encyclopedia of every ingredient you can think of (Okay, the deluxe version really is every ingredient but whatever), giving the history, use, cultivation, etc. about it. Thank you ex boyfriend for first introducing me to this lovely masterpiece of a reference.

The Joy of Cooking: Of course, my stickiest most used pages are either in the dessert section or in the pork section. I don't care how Julie and Julia portrayed Irma Rombauer, I still love the book.

(Speaking of pork) Pig: King of the Southern Table: A new edition to my cookbook library, thanks to Jason, this book offers everything I could ever want to know about pig, pork and everything in between. I'm still waiting for the perfect time to try out the bacon peanut butter muffins.

Stack upon stacks of FOODday recipes and articles. What can I say, I'm a nerd who saves newspaper clippings (Yes I've got choice comic strips and squares hung up on my fridge), and the Oregonian typically does a sweet job of offering up tidbits of local food knowledge and cooking suggestions.

Alas, my library is incomplete. I'm sorely jonesing for Harold McGee's On Food and Cooking: The Science and Lore of the Kitchen, Larousse Gastronomique: The World's Greatest Food Encyclopedia, Mushrooms of the Pacific Northwest, Mastering the Art Of French Cooking and The Food Substitutions Bible -- because, let's face it, sometimes my non-dairy substitution ratios still come out a little funky.

Sadly, that's just the beginning the list. Looks like I better start saving, eh?

Let me know (If anyone's out there?) of any other really great resources, web or physical, out there!

Culinary Concoctions Week Two: The Ingredient

Since I want to write more than just once or twice a week, I'm going to begin blogging three times a week during  this year-long cooking project of mine:

1. To introduce next week's ingredient (You know, for educational purposes)
2. To share the recipe (Also for educational and sharing purposes)
3. To lay out the play-by-play of cooking, with photos taken by Jason (For sharing and narrative purposes)

So next week's ingredient, as long as I'm able to find it at the farmer's market this weekend, is going to be black radishes.

Allow me to geek out:

Part of the brassicaceae or cruciferae family -- which takes its name from the New Latin word Cruciferae which, as my UP alumnus might have guessed, means cross-bearing for their criss-crossing leaves -- black radishes typically come in two varieties; the Black Spanish Long and the Noir Gros de Paris. Go figure I'm using a root plant native to Spain and France.  They grow best in winter, after sowing during June through September, because their white, firm and compact flesh will keep fresh most of the winter without entering a state of vegetation (Ha -- vegetables vegetating; seems like some kind of Buddhist practice, huh?) or becoming hollow.

I mean, who really likes a hollow radish, right?

Exactly.

The black radish is rich in vitamin c, which is why they're fantastic for winter time consumption, especially when you're living in the Pacific Northwest where the common head cold is just lurking around the corner of your favorite non-Starbucks coffee shop, waiting to latch onto you. They're also high in vitamin B and sulfur, which is the culprit for it's strong flavor. Furthermore, black radishes carry a serious punch of fiber and water which aids in digestion (Which, after three weeks of Vicodin and OTC cold head meds, could be of use).

To eat them,  you have to peel the skin because that's the most pungent part of it all; I'm assuming the strength of the sulfur would be akin to eating the skin of ginger root...not the same flavor profile but packing the same, "WOAH MAN!" reaction.

Not that I've eaten ginger root peel out of sheer curiosity or anything.

Okay fine. I'll give you a full Amie-palate review of black radish skin (By the way if that doesn't sound like a solid emo band name, I don't know what does.)

That said, let's hope Sunday's venture finds me buying black radish from the farmer's market.

Wish me luck in the Portland January rain! (Caveat: Even if my black radish pursuit IS a total wash, at least I get to A) Drag the boyfriend along with me after a two day hiatus and B) Savor my favorite treat at my favorite Portland bakery: The garden bread at Baker and Spice. As my mother would say, yum-a-dum-dum.)

PS -- On a side note, I never really thought I'd get to tag a blog with 'Vicodin' more than once. Shows how much I know.

Week One: The Story

Yesterday at work...well, it sucked. A nice little training exercise with my three superiors found me in the mode of scaredy-cat anxiety girl who can't handle the pressure of real time, on-the-fly criticism on how I conduct myself.

In other words, I totally broke down into panic tears three minutes into the training exercise.

Damn it.

There wasn't much to do or much that would really make me feel one hundred percent better except escaping into the kitchen where things, no matter how crazy my world is, always make sense.

Last night, in my kitchen --- okay, in Co's kitchen --- things made sense. Glorious, delicious sense. I'll admit, I love his kitchen; it's hard not to, with steel counter tops, a gas stove, sharp knives that elicit that cool, metallic ting when you release them from their magnetic home, and space...lots of glorious space for me to shimmy and shake as I dice and saute and, on occasion, fall into the boy's arms for an impromptu dance session.  And with a kitchen I love that much well, again, it's not hard for things to make sense.

That's one of the aspects of cooking I love the most --- that I can completely erase the stress of a day and fall into a rhythm of consistency where I have total control: peeling, washing, dicing, seasoning, stirring...

The whole works, really (And no, I'm not a control freak, I swear). It's my place, one of a few sanctuaries I have to be my creative, nerdy, awkward self.

Okay, I've digressed.

I was quite pleased with how dinner turned out last night. While I couldn't find many maitake mushrooms, I supplemented with luscious chanterelles, sauteeing them with garlic, white onion, a splash of soy sauce a squeeze of fresh lemon juice before adding in quinoa and chicken broth.

While that finished cooking, I opted for the broiler to cook the halibut -- which was creamy white, flaky and cased in a beautifully silver and blue skin that just begs to be fried (Yes I'm stoked there's still about 1/2 a pound leftover. The man who sold us the fish must be into big portions, considering he suggested a 1/2 a pound per person). After cutting four lovely white pieces of fillet and dousing them with a light coating of vegetable oil, salt and pepper, I broiled those babies on high for four minutes on each side.


I'll admit, here's where my teeny tiny snafu occurred: For a meal that I timed out near perfectly for plating -- spinach finished a minute before the fish was done -- something went amiss: The quinoa, though it had been soaking for over twenty minutes, was still far too al dente to be enjoyable. Five minutes after turning the heat up, nothing.

And that's when I realized....the downfall of the gas stove...the fire was out. Nothing was cooking. So, unfortunately, the spinach may have been a bit cooler than it should have been and the fish, a bit drier than I would have liked.

Nevertheless, the meal paired nicely with the pinot gris Jason picked up for dinner and luckily for me, neither he nor Co had any complaints (Save for the cast-iron-pan-in-the-dishwasher disaster that we just barely avoided).

I'm still debating on next week's ingredient. I'm hoping to find inspiration at the farmer's market on Sunday.

Any suggestions?

Culinary Concoctions Week One: Grilled Halibut with Spinach and Thai Chiles over Maitake Mushroom Quinoa

1 1/2 pounds of fresh, Alaskan halibut. What else to do but grill it with a Japanese twist?

Recipe:

Ingredients
5 TBSP sugar
5 TBSP fish sauce
1/4 cup water
3 TBSP fresh lime juice
2 TBSP minced peeled ginger
2 garlic cloves, minced
2 Thai bird chiles or 1/2 large jalapeño, diced

1 small carrot, peeled and matchsticked
1 1/2 pound halibut filleted, quartered
3 TBSP vegetable oil, divided

1 shallot, thinly sliced
3/4 pound fresh spinach (About 12 cups packed)

1 cup quinoa
2 cups vegetable stock
3 TSPN soy sauce
1/2 white onion, chopped
2 cloves garlic, minced
Juice from 1/2 lemon
1/3 pound maitake mushroom

Directions
Mix first 7 ingredients in medium glass bowl. Season sauce to taste with salt and pepper (It can be made 2 days ahead; just cover and refrigerate).

Mix quinoa and vegetable stock in medium sauce pan over high heat. Bring to boil, reduce heat and simmer, covered until all liquid is absorbed; about 20 minutes.

In medium skillet, heat 2 TBSP vegetable oil.  Add onion, garlic. Saute until translucent and fragrant; about 6 minutes. Add soy sauce, lemon juice and diced maitake mushrooms. Saute until mushrooms are soft, but still with some buoyancy and tooth; about 8 minutes. Add to quinoa, with 'juice' when done.

Prepare barbecue (or broiler) on medium high heat.

Place carrot in medium bowl, cover with ice water. Let stand 15 minutes, then drain well.

Brush fish on all sides with 2 TBSP oil. Sprinkle with salt and pepper. Grill until opaque in the center; about 4 minutes per side.

Meanwhile, heat 1 TBSP oil in large nonstick skillet over medium heat (You really do want a large one because, even though the spinach will wilt, it'll take up a lot of room at the beginning). Add shallot. Stir 1 minute. Add spinach. Sprinkle with salt. Toss until wilted but still bright green; about 2 minutes.

Plating 

Divide spinach onto four plates. Mold 1/4 cup mushroom quinoa into loose patty and place on top of spinach bed. Carefully place fish on top of the spinach. Sprinkle each fillet with carrot and drizzle with 2 TBSP sauce and a swirl onto the plate. Serve with a  rich and fruity wine, like a dry rose or Gewurztraminer. If, like me, you prefer something less fruity and sweet, a clean, crisp beer -- like Sapporo, to stick with the theme -- will go nicely, too.

Pictures and the story to follow...

New Year's (Non) Resolution

Back in mid November I came across a contest in The Oregonian's FOODday section that hooked my eye. Basically, you write down a cooking resolution for 2011 with the chance to win tickets to see Michael Pollan speak at my alma mater, the University of Portland.

Shoot yeah I was game.

So I entered a quick blurb:

"As a cook stretching my culinary prowess and local-food knowledge, I pledge to make a new meal each week using a local, seasonal ingredient that I've never used before."

I forgot all about it until Grant Butler, an editor at FOODday emailed me asking my location within the city.

I forgot all about it yet again until a friend sent me a photo of my resolution in the newspaper (So much for being an avid newspaper reader, eh?)

And so now, here I am, on the second of January, and I feel, well...a bit more than obligated to follow through on this resolution.

Obligated...yet excited.

So, with each new meal, expect a new blog post.

Today's was just...the primer; the appetizer if you will to inform you that January's ingredients will be:

Rutabaga
Black Radish
Fenugreek
Mushrooms (Lion's mane, oyster or enoki; depends what I can find at the Hillsdale Farmer's Market next Sunday).

I'm not sure what'll be first; I'm thinking that, since I've got a 1 1/2 pound fillet of fresh halibut resting nicely in my fridge, that it'll be something that'll accompany the subtle, meaty flavor of the fish.

Week one recipe, photos and review to follow...