Culinary Concoctions Week Six: Balsamic Chicory Salad with Farmer's Market Bacon Cornbread and Poached Eggs

Woowee it's been a week which means, unfortunately -- or maybe fortunately, who knows...depends if you're the type of person who hates that I separate my recipe blog from my here's-how-it-went-down blog -- both blog posts are coming up today.

That's gonna affect my stats damn it.

Not that I geek out about the stats or anything.

Ahem. Anyway.

This week's recipe is in theme with how I've been eating lately: Entree salads (I mean, I've got to combat all the bacon fat somehow, right?). So here goes:

Balsamic Chicory Salad
Ingredients:
4 bunches chicory, peeled into individual leaves or stalks
2 cloves garlic, thinly sliced.
2 TBSP balsamic vinegar
1 TBSP olive oil
salt and pepper
3-4 cups spinach/arugula, washed

Directions:
Heat oil in large saute pan over medium heat. Salt and pepper it. When hot, add garlic. Be careful not to let it burn! If you find your garlic is burning, lift the pan off of the heater and let it cool down a bit, constantly moving the pan around so the oil and garlic don't sit in one place. Add chicory. VERY quickly sprinkle with balsamic. Chicory only needs about 1-2 minutes, TOPS in pan. Remove, drain.

Add to spinach/arugula (Dressing optional; the balsamic drizzle adds enough moisture to the leaves as well as the soon-to-follow egg).

Ayers Creek Farm = The Bomb.
That's right, I said The Bomb.

Bacony Cornbread
Ingredients:
2 TBSP bacon fat or 6 pieces bacon, chopped
1 1/2 cups medium grind cornmeal
1/2 cup all purpose flour
1 1/4 cups buttermilk or milk substitute (go for something super creamy here)
1 TBSP sugar
1/2 TSPN salt
1 egg

Directions:
Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Whisk all dry ingredients together in medium sized bowl. Don't forget to sift your flour! Heat fat and/or fry bacon in a 10 inch ovenproof skillet. Beat egg with milk in small bowl. Add milk and egg to dry ingredients. Fold together then pour into the hot skillet. Make sure to mix well with bacon grease and/or bacon. Bake in over for 25-30 minutes. Enjoy the heck out  of it after!

And to put it all together:
Slice cornbread and put it on the bottom of the plate. Top with spinach followed by chicory. Finish with poached egg, salt and pepper to taste.

Culinary Concoctions Week Six: The Ingredient

So...math equation for you all:

(Work Stress + Life Stress) (Lack of sleep + Middle-of-the-week Tummy Woes)  = Me cooking, but not writing about it.

I can't believe how I've fallen behind with blogging this week! Dang it!

So...with that, a brief on this week's ingredient, chicory.

Jason and I went to (surprise, surprise) the Hillsdale Farmer's Market on Sunday and raided Ayer Creek Farm's stand, meddling our way in between women stockpiled with parsnips, salad greens and slices of winter squash boasting the boldest orange hue I've ever seen, to pick up a few bunches of chicory.

"I have no idea what to do with these," I confessed to Jason, whose eye was wandering to the one pound bag of ground cornmeal (that yes, he subsequently purchased).

So, come Sunday night, I did my research:

Chicory, a/k/a blue sailors, coffee weed and succory, is a bushy perennial herbaceous plants that's cultivate for salad leaves. However, it's roots are also used, baked then ground and used as a coffee substitute.

In the US, real chicory is often confused as curly endive. They're not one in the same. However, chicory leaves also include raddichio (a/k/a choke lettuce), sugarleaf and Belgian endives.

Ahhhh it all makes sense now.

To really geek out with ingredient research...I found that the chicory plant is one of the earliest plants cited in recorded literature. Horace mentions it in his own diet: "As for me, olives, endives and mallows provide substance." While I loathe olives, at least that gives me a starting point for creating a recipe.

Moreover, Lord Monboddo described the plant in 1779 as the 'chicoree,' which the French cultivated as a pot herb (No, fellow Portlanders, not a pot pot herb). Rather, chicory is, and has been since the Napoleanic Era, used in coffee or as a coffee substitute. And of course, even the Egyptians used it for the same purpose.

Recipe starting point number two...complete.

More about the recipe tomorrow!

Week Five: The Story

Nuts + Food Processor= My new best friend.

I'm not even kidding.

Salt and peppered peppers

Last night's Romesco sauce -- with hazelnuts in lieu of almonds -- was de-lish-us (Yes, that's the phonetic spelling of delicious; don't even get the idea that I'm all-of-a-suddenly spelling words incorrectly. Sheesh!)

I mean, I would have spent HOURS slicing and dicing and mincing to get the kind of consistency that the food processor gave me for the Romesco sauce. Sometimes technology really is a great addition in our lives.

What was supposed to be a lazy Saturday was, well...exactly that. After all, I didn't actually get out of bed until well after ten a.m. and -- believe it or not -- didn't actually caffeinate my body until nearly noon (Which, occurred at Water Avenue coffee --- HANDS DOWN the best latte I've ever had. The aroma...taste...texture...body...rose...all absolutely gorgeous and delicious). Still, despite an ungodly sleep-in, I did manage to gather myself to the grocery store and pick up ingredients for this week's Romesco sauce.

It was (and still is!) fantastic!

Roasted bell peppers!

I, unfortunately, had to recall the list of ingredients from my end-of-the-week mind, which means I totally forgot sherry vinegar. That said, after pureeing all the ingredients up and tasting it's richness, I added a relatively healthy dose of balsamic vinegar for some acidic relief. The roasted red peppers added a great paprika-ish flavor (BTW, make sure when you're roasting bell peppers -- or really, any vegetable for that matter -- to line your baking pan with aluminum foil; it'll save you a couple hours of pan-saving scrubbing) and the hazelnuts...oh man, oh man...they gave the smoky, acidic, peppery base a sweet, garlicky (Because yes, I toasted the hazelnuts for about eight minutes in olive oil and garlic before hand), fatty mouth and flavor that was just...to...die...for.

Seriously, kind of a bitch
to peel. Note: Toast 15 min.

Word of the wise: When you're toasting hazelnuts via saute, make sure to give them a good fifteen minutes; the longer they go, the easier the papery film will be to peel; Jason and I spent a comical twenty minutes trying every which way to peel the outside coating of the toasted hazelnuts --- rubbing them with our fingers, rubbing them in our palms with each other, etc. --- only to have a handful land on the floor (as well as into our mouths; but I mean, who can really resist a toasted hazelnut, especially one who bathed in hot olive oil with slices of fresh garlic, right?).

Dinner! I just wish the sauce
didn't look like cat food

The great thing about this sauce was it's thickness; while I'm sure I needed to add more olive oil (I probably only used 1/4 cup, instead of the called for-1/2 cup, I was really happy with the consistency, which turned out to be more hummus-like and less pesto-ish. I pan-fried the remainder of our New Year's weekend halibut fillet which I plated atop a salad of arugula, avocado, grapefruit and homemade croutons and carefully spooned a heaping tablespoon of Romesco sauce -- okay...Romesco dip -- on top of the lemony halibut for a light, but filling Saturday evening meal.

It really was the perfect way to end a very, VERY lazy Saturday.

Culinary Concoctions Week Five: Romesco Sauce

It's been a while since I've made a good pasta. Considering how unbelievably cold it is here in Portland (Which I say, knowing that the rest of the country is in far, far worse shape than us. I spoke with a client this morning who said Houston is rocking a tepid 28 degrees. My sister in Butte told me not to complain, too; Western Montana is enjoying a brisk NEGATIVE 10 degrees.), I figured a nice steaming pasta would work as a great end-of-the-week tuck in.

While I first imagined making a kind of pesto sauce with the hazelnuts, I decided to head more North in my Mediterranean inspired sauce and land in Spain for Romesco sauce. Although it's usually made with almonds, many recipe variations -- including one from Portland's very beloved Vitaly Paley of, you guessed it, Paley's Place -- swap out almonds with hazelnuts.

So...recipe as follows:

Romesco with Hazelnuts (Thanks Vitaly Paley!)


Ingredients
8 Nyora Chiles
2 large red bell peppers
3/4 cups plus 2 TBSP extra virgin olive oil (See Clara? I didn't go all [ugh] Rachel Ray and evoo it there)
1/2 cup raw hazelnuts
2 TBSP fine breadcrumbs
2 cloves garlic, coarsely chopped
1 medium tomato peeled and deseeded (Or if you're super mature like me, dejizzed)
2 TBSP sherry vinegar
Coarse salt and freshly ground black pepper (But come on, it's me, those go without saying)

Directions
1. Preheat oven to 450.
2. Snap the stems of the Nyora peppers. Shake out and discard seeds. Like any pepper, DON'T GET THE SEEDS IN YOUR EYES PEOPLE! (Also, if you're like me, don't cut yourself while chopping them.) Put the peppers in a heatproof bowl and cover with 2 cups of boiling water. Cover the bowl with a plate and the peppers soften for about 20 minutes. CAREFULLY pour the liquid out and dry the peppers on a paper towel.
3. While the Nyora peppers are soaking, roast red bell peppers, for about 30 minutes on a roasting pan. Make sure to turn them every 10 minutes or so. Place in paper bag, close bag and let cool.
4. Heat 2 TBSP olive oil in small skillet over medium heat. Add hazelnuts and cook, shaking the pan, until browned; about 4 minutes. Drain hazelnuts and let cool. Remove as much of the outside paper coating as possible.
5. Combine Nyoras, roasted bell peppers, hazelnuts, breadcrumbs, garlic, tomatoes, sherry vinegar and 1/2 cup olive oil in food processor. Season with salt and pepper. Pulse until completely purees.

The good thing about the Romesco sauce is that it can be made the day before. While it'll go well with homemade pasta, it'd also serve well as a sauce for a mild white fish, prawns, chicken or eggplant stack.

Story to follow...

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!

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.

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: 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!

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...

Culinary Adventures of a Saucier

Okay...it's time to humbly brag about my latest culinary adventure: Sauces.

If I were a chef, I'd be a saucier (Pronounced sauce-ee-ay). At least, that's where my cooking prowess shined through on Sunday. Even though hot July temperatures warmed up the apartment to a toasty 90 degrees, I spent the majority of my afternoon in our teeny kitchen, sweating over (but not into) steaming sauce pans making two very different yet pretty dang good sauces.

The first was just my typical tomato sauce for a farfalle (bowtie) noodle "lasagna" I made for Clara's friend. I spent a solid 45 minutes dicing onions, garlic, shallots, basil, parsley and chopping tomatoes, bell peppers an mushrooms. Next, I sauteed my aromatics (plus salt, pepper and chili flakes) until the apartment teems with an olive oily-garlic aroma before dropping in two jars of Trader Joe's plain tomato sauce and once can of diced tomatoes, turned down the heat to medium-low then letting that baby simmer for a solid three hours. When it comes to tomato sauces, the longer, the better.

The second sauce is what I'm most proud of (I sort of have the consistently delicious tomato sauce down. Sure, sometimes I make it a titch too salty or tad too runny but those occasions happen about as often as Valentine's Day...once a year, and I'm typically the only one who really rues it), mainly because I totally made it up all on my very own.

The previous Sunday I had purchased a package of bone-in pork chops from Zupan's ($4.36 for 5 ounces of high-quality, lean protein per person? How could I pass that up?) and wanted to use them for dinner for Walker and myself. We still had a ton of berries from our Saturday trek out to suburbia to the Beaverton Farmer's Market that neeeeeeeeeded to be used. So...what did I do? I made a savory sauce for the pork, of course:

Blackberry Mint Red Wine Reduction
1 1/2 pints blackberries
1/2 bottle of cabernet sauvignon
2 cups vegetable or pork stock
1/3 white onion, finely diced
2 cloves garlic, minced
Aromatics: Mint, rosemary, tarragon, finely diced
2 TBSP rendered bacon grease
Salt, pepper

Heat bacon fat in medium sized sauce pan. Once melted and giving off smoky aroma, add aromatics, garlic, onion, salt and pepper. Sautee until you get the heavenly smell of garlic, onions (which should be translucent) and mint swirling in your nostrils (Mixed with the smokiness of the beacon, these aromas are to freaking die for). Add berries. Sautee and coat the berries with aromatic bacon grease, but don't let the berries caramelize...coast them just enough to them sigh, for about two minutes. After two minutes, add wine and stock. Bring to a boil. Reduce heat, cover and let simmer until the sauce reduces to a near-syrupy consistency. The berries won't totally break down, which is good, because it gives your sauce a bit of a thickness.

I was a bit afraid that the sauce might be too sweet but, surprisingly, the smoky flavor of the beacon grease, the savory stock, the full-bodied wine and the refreshingly savory profiles of the aromatics harmonized nicely together and served as a nice sauce for the pork chops which I left very simple: Sprinkled with salt and pepper, I performed a quick sear on both sides, about two minutes each, before finishing the chops in the oven, topped with some sauce and mint sprigs. Grilling the chops would have added another smoky profile to the palate which, indeed, would have been divine.

At any rate, I'm pretty happy with this sauce because it's one of the first I've ever made without first scouring my cookbook, Epicurious or the Food Network for hours, looking for inspiration. And it turned out to be a success (Well, according to Walker anyway).

The next big culinary test is quickly approaching...cooking a once-tried (though ravely reviewed) menu, not for two, but for 15 people. Dun, dun, duuuuuuuuuun.

To be continued...

A month later...

Yikes. It's been a very long time since I've posted a blog. I was chatting with a friend today who is blogging about his gardening expeditions who (on another Google chat occasion) confessed, after having previously boasted how easy and profitable blogging is...that everyone could do it, that updating a blog regularly takes more work than he originally thought.

Duh.

Sure, it's time consuming and, if you're a perfectionist or work-a-holic like me, the need to write a well-crafted column after a 10 or 12  or, like last Wednesday, 15 hour work day, is just plain crazy. Of course, I could be like my coworker and blog during work in lieu of working on a script but I actually enjoy my job and find that working on anything else during the day is well, to be Captain Obvious, counterproductive.

(Caveat: I know I published this during work today but I already had it written so I am by no means a hypocrite....right?)

At any rate, it's been far too long since I've blogged, which is unfortunate because I have so many wonderful things to write about (Which people are of course, dying to read about...maybe...hopefully...in my dream world, anyway)...

...Like our new apartment (Hello roof top neighbors)...

...And Fourth of July weekend when Meghann visited (Hello bottle of tequila)...

...And my new obsession with brackets [Hello new aside tool]...

...And coming back to Pottery Barn (Hello floor set)...

...And figuring out how to triumph over an office bully (Hello alter ego)...

...And starting a book club at work (Hello Ayn Rand)...

...And, you know, life in general (Hello World).

So enjoy the next few posts as I try to play catch up for the past month of the virtual cold shoulder.

Culinary Adventures of a Southern Belle

As vowed in a previous blog, I have cooked something brand new. I spent most of my Sunday in the kitchen trying my hand at a new recipe and cooking technique.

The role of my precious beets was insignificant (The greens wilted and I had used two of three making borscht the day before). But, I must confess -- boisterously tooting my own haute horn -- that I was pretty successful venturing out of my culinary cushion of comfortable classics and into a palatable pilgrimage of -- that's right -- pulled pork.

The idea for pulled pork practically leaped off of the news page last Tuesday when The Oregonian's FOODday section featured pulled pork recipes. But, after a week of long days and longer nights (Damn Nymph), I didn't get around to implementing it until Sunday afternoon.

After walking to Safeway with Walker in the slightly drizzling June-uary morning to pick up pork shoulder and collard greens, I paid homage to my southern roots, throwing on my housewife apron (Okay I'm neither a housewife nor do I own an apron) and flopping open my Joy of Cooking cookbook to cook up a mean and manly meal of pulled pork with North Carolina-style barbecue sauce, spicy vinegar coleslaw and slow-braised collard (pronounced cawl-uhd) greens.

Now, I was pretty scared that I had bitten off more than I could chew but it turns out that slow-roasting pork and slow-braising vegetables is like water off of a duck's back: easy, easy, easy.

Pulled Pork with Spice Rub:
I made a spice mixture of cumin (Which you can buy bulk at Safeway!), paprika, ground chili powder,  brown sugar (pronounced shu-gah), nutmeg (A substitution for mace, which my recipe called for at 1 tsp. nutmeg for 1/4 tsp. mace), salt and pepper. Do I know the actual measurements? Of course not...but equal parts brown sugar and paprika with hefty and equal bouts of salt and chili powder seemed about right. I got two pork shoulder roasts, about 2 pounds each, which I rubbed tenderly with the spice rub, whispering to with love and care, to take up every little morsel and grain of spice. I'm sure Walker thought I was crazy.

In an oven-safe pan, I heated up rendered bacon fat (What else would I use?), shimmied both roasts in and browned all sides, about three minutes each side. Then, with my oven preheated to 325 degrees, I popped that pot -- tightly covered with aluminum foil -- onto a center rack in my oven and let it brood for three aroma-inducing hours.

Collard Greens:
In another big pot (Big pots equate to Southern cooking in my book) I tossed six strips of roughly chopped uncured Applewood smoked bacon (It's the only kind you can get from Trader Joe's). Letting those get nice and crispy -- which is key, because the two hours of braising they'll undergo can make them as limp as a dishrag -- I tossed in salt and pepper before adding 3 cups water and 1 cup beef broth (I would have gone equal parts but was low in stock), letting it come to a whisper of a boil before adding one head of coarsely chopped, de-ribbed and de-stemmed collard greens. After making sure the greens wilted a smidgen and were completely swimming in the bacony-beefy stock, I reduced the heat to medium-low, covered them and, like my pork shoulder, let them stew for two hours in aromatic heaven.

North Carolina Barbecue Sauce:
Now this recipe I took directly from my Joy of Cooking cookbook but tweaked it with 1 TBSP of honey after tasting it and, much to my heat and spice-taking palate and chagrin, finding it hotter than a two dollar pistol. In this North Carolina sauce (Dubbed North Carolina-style because it isn't tomato/ketchup based) I included 3/4 cup apple cider vinegar, 3/4 cup distilled white vinegar, 1 TBSP hot sauce (I'd reduce this next time), 2 TBSP sugar, 2 tsps chili flake and salt and pepper to taste. While it wasn't nearly as good as what Podnah's Pit BBQ offers, it's spicy acidity ended up mixing well with the smoky-sugary warmth of the pulled pork.

Spicy Vinegar Coleslaw:
Since I can't have dairy and Walker doesn't like mayonnaise, I had to concoct a dairy-and-mayo-free coleslaw recipe. Again, calling on my beloved Podnah's, I tried to recreate a vinegar-based coleslaw with apple cider vinegar, a splash of lemonade (I would have preferred a freshly-squeezed lemon but didn't have one on me), Dijon mustard and vegetable oil. Whipping that up, I poured it over a mixture of  chopped jalapeno pepper (reduce the heat by removing the membrane and seeds) shredded cabbage, carrot and, as promised, beet and let it sit 20 minutes before serving.

And oh, what a grand serving it was: Cold, crunchy coleslaw and hot, tender pulled pork stacked high and voluptuously between beautifully buttered buns slathered with get-all-over-your-face-and-don't-even-care barbecue sauce. Mmmm. Mmmm. Mmmm.

That sounded much more pornographic that it should have...

...but really, it was deliciously sinister enough to make a preacher curse.

I sure do reckon.

Culinary Adventures

After a near solid week of cooking dinner, I've decided to push my cooking to a new level. But, before I continue with the why and how, let me detail the what that led me to this decision. My menu for the previous week:

Sunday: Chicken tomato curry with bell peppers, mushrooms, onions and shrimp.

Tuesday: Fresh fettuccine with with garlic, shrimp, chicken, pancetta (Yeah, three meats). Side salad of mixed greens and the BEST Roma tomatoes and the ripest avocado I've had to date, dressed with my go-to, homemade balsamic vinaigrette (balsamic vinegar, honey, salt, pepper, shallots, dijon mustard and olive oil).

Wednesday: BLOAT sandwiches on ciabatta rolls (BLOAT, I'll admit, is a Walker/Amie co-creation: Bacon, lettuce, sauteed onion, avocado, tomato and pan-fried turkey cutlets).

Thursday:  Carna asada burritos with sauteed bell peppers and onions, white rice, refried beans and homemade guacamole and salsa.

Friday: Lemon garlic pappardelle with pancetta croutons (Yes, you read that right) and broccoli. Salad of mixed greens, avocado and Roma tomatoes, served with the usual balsamic vinaigrette suspect.

Saturday: Egg scramble with onions, bell peppers and pancetta served with multigrain toast and blackberry jam (Okay so Saturday was a Walker meal; I don't do breakfast all that often).

All in all, a solid week of eating in (Which we celebrated last night with happy hour pints at Laurelwood and a tipsy sushi -- I was tipsy, not the sushi -- dinner). Even though last week was slightly stressful, between work, not sleeping and gaining more angst over our pending move, I thoroughly enjoyed coming home at night, taking off my bra, slipping on some sweat pants and hospital socks (The epitome of sex appeal, I know) and cracking open a beer to sip on while I embark on a barrage of onion mincing (Which always, always makes me cry), garlic crushing, meat tenderizing and pasta boiling. It's soothing and calming. Even when I'm worked up and irritable, an hour in the kitchen always makes the frustrations of the day melt away (Though I'm sure the beer doesn't hurt).

But I'm ready to take my cooking further. I've realized, now that I buy food for another person other than myself, that I'm constantly purchasing the same goods. My freezer is always stocked with peas, spinach and broccoli. I've always got onions, bell peppers, mushrooms and avocado in my fridge. My love for Oregon fruit aside, I'm always armed with bananas and apples, regardless of the season. While having the usuals to fall back upon isn't necessarily bad, it's a rut I'm definitely ready to break out from.

So, with my Joy of Cooking cookbook that Santa brought me from the North Pole three Christmases ago, a bit more expendable of a food budget and a boyfriend who's willing to try anything I bring home and/or make (The boy tried a fingerful of Tofutti the other morning), I've decided to make one new thing a week.

And by new I mean something I've never EVER made or eaten before. So whether that means cooking with a new ingredient or whipping up a dish that I randomly flip and point to in my cookbook, I'm going to be stretching my culinary skills and taste buds to new heights.

This week I'm working with beets. Clara and I paid homage to my old stomping grounds on Sunday by going to the Farmer's Market up in Hillsdale. We both purchased the biggest beets I've ever seen. They're Chioggia beets (Pronounced kee-OH-gee-yuh)! Although Chioggia beets are sweeter than typical beets, I'm planning a more savory meal that uses both the beets and the beet greens (I've never cooked nor eaten beet greens so it's a double whammy culinary expedition that meets both prerequisites of my weekly culinary adventure).

Here's the plan:

Shredded beets and coarsely chopped beet greens sauteed in garlic and thyme butter with mushrooms and seared steak. I'm pretty excited because it's a play off of a recipe I found on Epicurious.com (I'm doing steak instead of chicken and garlic and thyme instead of orange zest). The entire dish is cooked in one pan so it should all taste pretty freaking delicious and, if I execute it well enough, the earthiness of the mushrooms and the savory, pungent flavor profile of the thyme should combat harmoniously against the sweetness of the beets. And the garlic? Well, garlic goes with everything!

I'll try to take photos...though doing so will dramatically increase the chances of me setting off the smoke alarm here (I have a crazy affinity for making the entire studio smoky when I pan fry meat).

Although, come to think of it, this apartment doesn't actually have a smoke alarm.

So yes, pictures to come, indeed.