Archive for the 'Recipes' Category

Because I Love You — Huevos Rancheros, A Recipe In Captions

It starts with chiles. "Ancho" chiles, or "Red New Mexico" chiles. Not -- NOT EVER -- Habaneros. There is a parable of Reading The Ingredient List Carefully that Sunbeam would probably prefer I not share with you here. I bought these Anchos at Whole Foods. You can buy them online, too. I've always worked with dry ones that are hard and crackly. These were chewy, like raisins. I modified the recipe a little because of it.

 

Remove the stems, the white pithy ribs, the seeds. Even Ancho chiles are hot, and the oils in them burn. Use gloves. Or don't, but then PLEASE for the love of all that is decent do not touch your eyes. There's a parable there, too, but it wasn't Sunbeam and it wasn't eyes, and I try really hard not to go there on this blog.

 

Two large, juicy garlic cloves. Toast over medium heat in corn or canola or vegetable oil. By using the whole clove you can toast without burning. I cook this meal whenever the house feels stale and overused. I clean, and then I toast garlic and chiles. It's like redecorating.

 

When the garlic is starting to brown, add chopped onion, cumin, powdered oregano, and the chiles. Sorry about the crappy picture.

Add liquid. Okay, here's where you have to live with that I'm not a professional: you want to add enough to cover without making it watery. You can add water or broth, and then a good solid dose of plain, low-salt, unseasoned tomato sauce. I say start with small amounts and work your way up. You can always simmer to reduce and thicken, so don't freak if you added too much. (I added about a half cup of water and a twelve-ounce can of sauce, but it's different with every batch. Play with it.)

 

I love this gizmo. It's a hand blender. About $19 bucks at Wal-Mart. After the sauce is hot and bubbling and the chiles are fall-apart soft, blend everything until it's smooth. If the chiles were crispy rather than raisiny to start, you'll want to strain this before you serve it because it will be grainy. Just pour it through a strainer and use a spoon to press the sauce through. Discard the pasty red stuff that's left behind. Either way, after you've blended, set it back on the stove to simmer. The longer it simmers, the better it tastes. Add salt, pepper, a splash of cider vinegar, and more cumin and oregano, as neccessary. You can add more tomato, too.

 Okay, I have no picture for this part.  I think I was getting mindless with hunger.  Make beans. 

I usually make mine from scratch, but in the summer I am not simmering frijoles in that kitchen.  So I cracked open a can of frijoles negros — I prefer the least sodium ones I can find — and I rinsed them. I chopped onion and garlic, sauted until transulcent.  Add cumin and powdered oregano, stir until it’s browning but not burning.  Add the beans and then a little liquid — water, broth, beer, whatever.  Simmer over medium heat, adding more liquid as is needed.  Salt and pepper to taste.

Then do your eggs.

This is the way my Mexican family cooked eggs. You crack them into a custard dish, first, to keep the yolks intact. Then you slip the eggs into about an inch of hot oil. Spoon hot oil over the top to make sure you cook the whites. Remove the egg when the whites are set and the yolk is still liquidy. Use a slotted spoon and set it on paper towels to drain excess oil. Cook the eggs and then at the end, cook the corn tortillas. One at a time, a few seconds until they're soft with crisp edges. Drain on paper towels.

 

Assemble: Pat the tortilla with paper towel to remove excess oil. Set it on the plate and top with frijoles. Set egg on top. Secret touch -- sprinkle a little salt and pepper directly on top of the egg at this step. Then cover with sauce.

 

See that? The yolk? How it's all creamy and running into the chile and tomato? It's salted too, remember how you did that before you sauced it? Add a little of the beans, and a bite of that crispy corn tortilla. That's right, get all of that on the fork, good. Have a cold beer-- a Dos Equis is perfect. Or? -- Hot, dark coffee. Try not to lick the plate.

Vegetable Curry — A Recipe In Captions

We are coming into my favorite time of year -- late summer/early fall. The ground is exploding and everywhere we go are little roadside stands selling earthy-smelling warm vegetables full of streaks and mottles and vibrant color.

I must have curry. Because it is delicious, because it is absurdly healthy, because it is cool enough to cook inside and I want the smell of it wafting through the house. Curry starts with ginger (NOT local. To me, anyway). I cut all the nubs off, peel, make a cube. I cut the cube into sheets, then strips, then tiny cubes. The onions are cooking up while I do this. I toss the ginger in, and then the garlic.

It doesn't even matter what vegetables you use. What's good? What's colorful? I must have eggplant, and little potatoes, and cauliflower. I had a bunch of kinds of squash, and of course peppers. I cooked it until it was getting brown, and then I added a little water. Chicken broth works, too, but I am proud that I have one vegan dish.

Here's where I tell you -- I have no idea what I'm doing. I am sure I am breaking a million Sacred Curry Rules, but I don't know them so I don't mind. Write to tell me, it won't bother me. Some day I will have a mortar and pestle and a recipe and I'll make my own curry. Until then, I've tried every powder and paste available locally and this is the stuff I like: A really cheap brand called "Taste of India." I add a lot. Then I add tomato sauce. Is that wrong? I'm sure it's wrong. I better not tell you about the squeeze of lemon, I'll really be getting e-mails then.

Add cilantro, chopped. Snow peas or sugar snaps or green beans. Add a protein like chickpeas or kidney beans. (I sometimes add cut up hard boiled egg at the end.) Let it thicken, season, smell, contemplate. This is what curry is about -- you have to keep with it, tasting and testing until it's right for you. At the very end, I pile local baby spinach on top, turn the heat off, drop the lid down. Then I set the table.

This is the stuff. After you have your curry the way you want it, you put it over rice, and then spoon some chutneys over. Geeta's onion is my favorite, but also the tamarind and papaya. But dig around, try all the funky fun flavors there are, and mix them up, too. This curry is even better second day. You can put it in an omlete, too.

Mussels — A Recipe In Captions

Prepped. Guess where I got the mussels? -- That's right! Off the back of a truck! These were $4 bucks a bag. (One bag was not enough, two was too much. Ah, well, too much it is.) Very simple ingredients. Very New England. Actually, no, very Spanish. Whatever, roll with it, people.

Personally, I believe it should be a federal crime to cook mussels over dry heat. However, it's still too hot to turn on the range in the Tilty-Floored kitchen, so I just brought out my trusty All-Clad and put it on the grill. I got it hot, and then I added a splash of oil and the chorizo. This is spicy stuff and it has great color.

It also seems wrong to cook something on the grill without its tasting like it was cooked on the grill, so I got some hickory chips going in there, too.

Chopped local onions, chunked local garlic. (Do I ever cook anything without onions and garlic? -- Of course. Cake.) That rosemary is so local it actually grew about two feet from the grill in a deck canister. I know! She blogs, she cooks, she grows rosemary. The smell of this -- the rosemary and the smoke and the onions and garlic and chorizo -- YOWZA baby, it was awesome. (The chorizo is from Spain. Which is, you know, local to Spanish people, so we're okay.)

Before the garlic burns, spoon those mussels in. They sizzle when they hit the pan. (A note here -- mussels are dangerous eating if you don't handle them right. If you've never worked with them, get some good professional advice about how to handle them. There is nothing about me and food that has even a hint of professionalism, so I'm not your source on shellfish safety.)

Add lemon, and a long cold splash of wine. (Water or vegetable broth works great, too). I don't pick wine, that's Cute Husband's job. Left to my own devices I selected a Chilean something the guy sold me on. I figured -- Chile? Spain? New England? Work with me, people. I lowered the heat to make everything simmer, dropped the grill lid down. The smoke and the steam and the wine and the stuff and the night and the coming rain and the rustly trees ...

Toasty sour dough. It's not cooked properly if there are no char marks. You slurp the mussels, dip the bread, drink wine, talk about the Sox and what makes a life interesting and anything but the thing you've been talking about all week.

Scallops On the Grill — A Recipe in Captions

I bought these out of the back of a truck, fresh from Chatham. They smell like seabreeze. I rinsed them, pulled off the veins, salt and peppered them and drizzled them with olive oil

A cheap pizza pan with holes in it. It's ruined now, blackened from the grill. Perfect. I heat it to 500 degrees and then drop the scallops on. The key is high heat and don't move them around too much. Let each side get brown, and then turn it. Squeeze lemon over, let it sizzle. The little ones cook faster. Pull them off at just underdone. They'll finish cooking while they wait.

The woman who grew these is named Clarissa. She let Eden chew a few greenbeans while we talked fava recipes. ("Fffff!!") I chopped the onions rough, they leaked onion water everywhere and spattered when they hit the pan. I added the garlic -- sliced into big chunks -- after the onions were starting to brown. Clarissa's garlic comes in big purple bulbs, four thick cloves each, none of the little skinny slivers.

Crappy pitcture, sorry. This was a gigantic tomato with green stripes. I squeezed out the seeds and the tough core and then tore the rest of it into chunks with my fingers. The onions and garlic were carmelized by then. It sizzled. I had about a cup of balsemic vinegar simmering on the little burner, and the air around us was starting to cool and rustle the leaves and we lit citronella candles and opened the wine.

Fistfulls of Clarissa's baby spinach. Also, some awesome heirloom greens from Riverside Farm -- purple and spindly. And a gigantic handful of fresh basil, whole-leaf. Just a hit of water and I dropped the lid and turned off the heat and when I opened it, the steam smelled like green wildness.

Brown rice on the bottom. Then greens, then scallops, and all the juices from everything. The balsamic had become a nice syrup which I drizzled over the top. We sat on the deck and watched the sun set behind our trees and talked about how when we are retired we will turn this into a real farm because we won't be able to afford groceries anyway and we will be old and chasing the chickens with forks. How many grandchildren could the barn fit, if we rennovated it? And how great would those Christmases be?

Mango Salmonburger With Chile Sweet Potato Fries

Mango Salmon Burgers

1 package salmon burgers

1 package  frozen mango chunks

1 bottle ginger soy dipping sauce

Mayonaise

Green onion

Cilantro  (Fresh or frozen)

Package baby greens

1 bottle soy sesame dressing

Package large brioche rolls

2 lemons

 

1)       Salt and pepper the burgers and cook on the grill or a sauté pan over high heat.  Drizzle soy sauce over it at the very end, and hit with a squeeze of lemon.

2)      Thaw mango to just-cooler-than-room-temperature.  Chop and put in a bowl with a dash of the dipping sauce, sliced green onion, chopped cilantro.

3)      Toss the greens in sesame dressing.

4)      Mix mayonnaise with squeeze of fresh lemon juice,  add a dash of dried ginger.

5)      Warm the rolls until they are soft, slice in half.

6)      Spread mayo on the rolls.  Top with burger, then mango, then greens.  Plate with fries, EAT!

Sweet Potato Fries

3-4 large sweet potatoes

Vegetable Oil

Salt, pepper, dash chile powder, dash brown sugar

1)       Wash the sweet potatoes, slice into fry shapes.

2)      Toss with a little vegetable oil (enough to lightly coat)

3)      Toss with salt, pepper, brown sugar, chile powder

4)      Bake in a 350 degree oven until soft, about 30-45 minutes.  Can broil at the end for crispness.

Full disclosure:  My children will not eat this.  I don’t care.  I give them nuggets that night.

The Hash

Boiled dinner is great, but nothing is better in the world than corned beef hash the next day.

2 cups, give or take, leftover corned beef, shredded into bit-sized chunks
handful leftover boiled potatoes, chopped so they are about the same consistency and volume as the corned beef
2 cloves (or more, whatever you like) garlic
3 bell peppers (I like yellow, red, orange) cut into thin strips to match the beef
1 large purple onion, cut into thin strips to match the peppers
Oregano, salt, peper
Handful fresh parsley

Fried or poached eggs for the top, fresh sourdough, English muffin, or toasted soda bread to accompany.

1) Saute the onions until just softened. Add peppers and chopped garlic. Finally, add corned beef and potatoes. Toss in pan over medium-high heat. It should form a nice crust. Add 1/4 cup of water or beer, cover and let steam through a few minutes. Check carefully for signs of burn. (Again, caremlized crust is great.)

2) Season with salt, pepper and oregano. Toss fresh parsley throughout. Serve topped with an egg or two and some spicy mustard or leftover horseradish cream.

New England Boiled Dinner

Corned beef and cabbage is not Irish food.

It is Boston food. Boston Irish food. (Don’t believe me? Ask an Irishman if he eats corned beef and cabbage on St. Patrick’s Day.)

Corned beef and cabbage is actually the basis of a classic New England Boiled Dinner, and around here an entertaining diversity of people eat it on St. Patrick’s Day. I have Asian, Greek and Italian friends making boiled dinner this weekend. Why? Tradition. — And, because there’s an awful lot of it piled up at the market, cheap.

In the past I’ve made my own concoction of spices and brine for the corned beef and gotten really into the question of grey versus red cuts. This year, I am very pregnant, more than a little grumpy, and was easily sold on the samples Trader Joe’s offered of their pre-brined stuff.

I put two of the Trader Joe’s corned beefs (beeves?) into a large pot with one bottle of a nice Irish lager and enough hot water to cover. (Friends of Bill, use beef broth.) Then, because I could not help myself, I added two cloves minced garlic and about a tablespoon minced onion. I’m pretty sure that’s not Irish, quite positive it’s not traditional Boston, but we are meant to evolve.

It’s boiling nicely on the stove.

When it’s been going about three hours, I’ll add these:

Traditional boiled dinner involves vegetables cooked into a pasty oblivion. Like I said, we’re meant to evolve: I prefer my vegetables crisp. I’ll add the potatoes first, and the carrots at the very end and I will watch carefully to make sure they don’t overcook.

I made a dish of horseradish cream — heavy cream with some good dollops of horseradish, whipped. Perfect on the beef. And butter and cheddar to go with the Irish soda bread and apples for dessert.

But the best part comes tomorrow, when I make the hash.

Talk about evolving.

Pork Two Ways

I love this recipe because it gives you two distinct dishes both of which my kids will eat, and both of which are really easy and fast to make but taste like they took hours. The first night, you do need to leave an hour for the pork to roast, but you don’t have to do much else. I can mix it and ask Sunbeam to put it in the oven and it’s ready when I get home.

Night One — Pork Tenderloin Roast

1 standard pork tenderloin roast
1 cup honey
1/4 cup olive oil
1/2 cup orange juice
1 heaping tablespoon thyme
1/2 cup chicken broth

1) Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Salt and pepper the pork loin. Combrine honey, olive oil, orange juice and thyme, whisk well and pour over meat in roasting pan.

2) Add chicken broth to bottom of pan, put it in the oven.

3) Cook for an hour, basting occassionally with pan liquid.

4) Quickly boil the pan sauce — either in the roasting pan or in a saucepan — until thick and glossy. Serve over pork.

Serve with salad and noodles or mashed potatoes.

Day Two — Honey Pork with Udon Noodles

1/2 cup cilantro
1/4 cup honey
1 small can green chiles
2 cloves garlic
2 tablespoons sesame oil

Leftover pork, cut into strips or shredded, whatever works

1 package udon noodles
1 package shredded carrots
Green onions
Soy sauce
minced ginger (jarred stuff works great, or you can even use pickled.)

1) Run cilantro, honey, chiles through food processor. Add to saute pan and cook until hot. Add pork, heat through, set aside.

2) Cook noodles. When they are hot, and just about cooked, but still a little firm, put them in a big bowl. Pour sesame oil, soy sauce, ginger, and carrots over. Toss until smooth.

3) Pour pork over, top with green onions.

This recipe also works with leftover roasted chicken. It is delicious cold, for lunch.

Huevos Rancheros

I don’t write my recipes down, and haven’t made this one in about a year. But here’s my best shot at it. I think it’s right, but I’m sorry if I forgot something. Let me know how it turns out.

2 large bags dried ancho chiles*
4 large cloves garlic
1 tablespoon finely minced onion
1 tablespoon Mexican oregano*
1/4 cup vegetable oil

    Three-hour Red Chile Sauce

 

1 can (or more) plain tomato sauce

*Generally, you want to use gloves when handling chiles. Ancho chiles are relatively mild, so if you don’t have gloves, just wash your hands very well and don’t touch your eyes for a while. Chile oil burns.

** Mexican oregano is powedered.  You can use the leafy stuff, but it isn’t as good. Find the powdered, if possible.

1) Put on rubber gloves to handle chiles. Pull the stem off each, shake out the seeds and any stringy interior. (About 20 minutes of reallllly boring work.)

2) Put cleaned chiles in stockpot, add water just to cover. Bring to a boil and then turn off heat, cover, let rest one hour.

3) Add vegetable oil to heavy-bottomed pan. Toast garlic cloves until they are brown and the room smells of roasted garlic. Add onion and cook until transluscent. Add oregano and cook until just heated. (Be careful not to burn.) (About 15 minutes)

4) Pour chiles into a strainer, reserve cooking liquid. Pick chiles over again, looking for stray stems or seeds. Run chiles through a blender in small batches, adding cooking liquid as needed. (20 minutes)

5) Run through a food mill, or press through a strainer. (20 minutes) Be careful not to add too much cooking liquid — you want this to be fairly thick at the end. You will reduce it, anyway, so don’t worry too much, but the more liquid you use, the longer it has to simmer at the end.

6) Rinse out your blender. Put in the oil with cooked aromatics, and the strained chile puree and whirl until smooth. Pour sauce into a saucepan and heat at a simmer. Add salt, pepper, and a splash of vinegar to taste. Simmer until thickened. (30 minutes)  Add tomato sauce to taste.  (I use between 1-2 large cans, depending)

1 bag dried black beans
1 large white onion
4 large cloves garlic
oregano
bay leaf
salt
pepper
1/2 cup Mexican beer (can substitute cooking liquid)

    Frijoles Negroes

 

1) Pick beans over for stones or sticks, rinse in cold water. Soak beans over night in just enough water to cover.

2) Rinse beans again, add to stockpot and cover with water. Add bay leaf. Simmer an hour to an hour and a half until beans are tender. Drain, reserve cooking liquid.

3) Rough-chop the onion and garlic. Add onion to the pan with olive oil and cook until transluscent. Add garlic. Then oregano. Add beans.

4) Add a splash of beer to deglaze the pan. Then add a ladleful of cooking liquid and simmer beans until liquid is absorbed. Keep adding liquid and simmering until desired consistency is achieved. Mash beans a little with spoon to make them creamier.

As promised — a cheap protein

Lentil and bean recipes to come, but I just haven’t been craving them lately.

What I craved today was Spaghetti Carbonara. Which is very convenient because I am under orders to gain weight. (So far this preganncy is right on target with all the others. In no time I’ll be up 60 pounds and wondering where that third ass came from.)

Spaghetti Carbonara is an Italian-American dish in the purest sense. It originated in the mid-20th Century and seems likely to have gained the height of its popularity from the rations of eggs and bacon that Americans distributed in Italy in World War II.

It’s easy, rich, very fast, very cheap and popular with the kids. We serve it with a simple romaine salad. Use very fresh eggs and real parmesean.

The big fear with carbonara is that the pasta won’t really cook the eggs. In my experience, it does. Almost instantaneously. In fact, when you add the hot pasta you want to keep it moving so you don’t get scrambled eggs. The sauce should be hot, thoroughly cooked, and smooth.

Spaghetti Carbonara

1 pound dry spaghetti, cooked in large pot of boiling salted water
2 fresh eggs
1/2 pound bacon
2 cloves garlic
1/2 cup finely grated parmesean cheese
chopped fine parsley, if on hand
salt and pepper to taste

1) Cook the spaghetti. While it cooks, cut the bacon into small chunks and put in a fry pan over medum heat. When the bacon is starting to brown and be crisp and the fat is mostly rendered, add two coves garlic, chopped into chunks. (Wait until bacon is almost done. If you add too soon, garlic will burn.) Toss until bacon is crisp and garlic is soft, then remove from heat.

2) Beat eggs in a large heatproof bowl unitl they are incorporated and smooth. Add pepper and a little salt. (Easy on the salt as you will be using salty bacon, too.)

3) As soon as pasta is cooked, drain and add to the bowl with the eggs. Toss quickly to coat. The hot pasta will cook the eggs, but you need to keep the whole thing moving to avoid scrambled eggs.

4) Add bacon and garlic and all pan drippings. (If you feel there is too much fat, drain some, but you need a little of it to flavor the eggs.)

5) Add parmesean. After it’s all tossed, add parsley.