Caviar on my mind

New Year’s Eve makes me think of sparkling celebrations with champagne and caviar. Not that we had either one when I was growing up in Chicago. Mom and Dad saw the new year in with oyster stew. Mom was a terrific cook, and I don’t have many negative food memories from my childhood, but oyster stew probably tops the list. Those gray things floating in milk? As an adult, I Iove oysters, often order them fried or Rockefeller, am a bit afraid of raw though I consider them a treat. Truth is, I have little reason to associate champagne and caviar with the New Year celebration.

But I am intrigued by caviar, and lately I’ve been reading a bit about it. We’re talking about two things here: caviar and roe. True caviar is the unfertilized eggs from a sturgeon fish—not just any fish, but a sturgeon. The most common types of caviar are:  Beluga, Ossetra, Sterlet, White Sturgeon, Amur Sturgeon, Kaluga, Hackleback, and Sevruga. I would venture that few among us have eaten pure caviar. To say it’s pricey is an understatement.

Most grocery stores offer small portions of caviar—only it is not real caviar but roe. Roe is the unfertilized eggs of any fish except sturgeon. Trout roe is common (and bright red). Lumpfish is one of the most inexpensive roe offerings. What’s confusing is that roe is usually labeled with the fish of origin and the word caviar. So at my upscale market, you can get about an ounce and a half of Ossetra caviar (enough for two people) for $200, but you can get two ounces of black lumpfish caviar for $10 and the same amount of red salmon caviar for $20. People who dine on caviar frequently and have large budgets can probably discern a distinct difference. My palate is not anywhere near that sophisticated.

Because the sturgeon population was decimated in recent years, caviar today is mostly farmed—raised in tanks or other enclosures and fed pellets of special food. Some, particularly roe, is wild-caught, or some may come from fish raised in a hatchery until they are strong enough to survive and then released into the wild. There are subtle differences in taste, probably too subtle for my palate.

Some people are put off by caviar—it has a snobbish association (even the inexpensive varieties), it is often strong in flavor, and many (some of my family) don’t like the idea of fish eggs. I happen to like seafood and strong flavors, and I enjoy caviar, even the kind I can afford.

Experts advise buying caviar in a tin, though it often comes in a small glass jar. Either way, it should be kept very cold until used, and once opened must be eaten within 24 hours.

So what do you do with it? The simplest way to serve is to put a dab of sour cream on a sturdy potato chip and top with a smaller dab of roe—bright red salmon is nice. It is often served on blini (tiny Russian pancakes), again with sour cream. A dab of caviar will brighten scrambled or hard-boiled eggs or even a lemony capellini. The New York Times has a recipe online for a caviar sandwich and another for a sour cream dip topped with caviar and served with potato chips. A classic caviar plate has caviar in a small bowl, set in ice, and surrounded by small bowls of chopped hard-boiled egg, diced red onion, sour cream or crème fraiche, lemon wedges, and thin-sliced good white bread.

When I used to do large Christmas parties, my favorite caviar spread was the hit of the buffet table. I am sure I used lumpfish caviar (roe).

Caviar spread

2 8-oz. pkg. cream cheese, softened

1 3-oz. pkg. cream cheese, softened (it is no longer sold in that size pkg. so just guess)

1 c. mayonnaise

1 small onion, grated

 1 Tbsp. Worcestershire

1 Tbsp. lemon juice

Dash of hot sauce

1 4-oz. jar black caviar

3-4 hard-cooked eggs, finely chopped

Chopped parsley

Mix first seven ingredients with electric mixer until smooth. Spoon into shallow serving dish. Top with caviar, eggs, and parsley. Serve with small pumpernickel breads.

Note that if you search caviar recipes online, you will be deluged with recipes for Texas or cowboy caviar. That’s a whole different thing, with an interesting story behind it. Watch for that in this blog next week.

 

Soup of the week, or what do we do with the turkey carcass?

 

Christmas night a lot of households will face that old question: what do we do with the turkey carcass? Some of my children roast the turkey in a disposable pan, and at the end of the meal just fold the carcass, picked as clean as reasonable, into the pan and pitch the whole thing. But I was raised by a mom who had lived through the Depression, and I grew up with a strict code of “Waste not, want not.” Mom boiled the turkey carcass. Mom also made what she called soup of the week, and it strikes me that turkey soup can easily be soup of the day, if not the week.

You really don’t need a recipe for turkey soup, though the internet is alive with them. You want to begin by simmering that carcass twenty-four hours or longer. This is admittedly something that can’t be done on a hot plate, at least not on my hot plate which automatically turns off after an hour. In my case, I’ll ask Jordan to simmer the bones in the main house. You want to add onion, celery, carrots (chunks are okay—no need to chop fine), maybe parsley, a bay leaf or two, salt and pepper so that the turkey stock has some flavor. Cover the bird with a generous amount of water, bring to a boil, and then simmer on low heat. Forever or so it seems. Your kitchen will smell wonderful.

When you are ready to make the soup, strain the broth off and finally discard that carcass and all the vegetables it cooked with. Then make your soup, and here’s where Mom’s soup of the week comes in. Don’t be limited to what a recipe says—create your own, using all those leftovers. Start with dicing leftover meat. Mashed potatoes? Stir them in—they’ll make the soup creamy. The ubiquitous green bean casserole? You might fish out the onion rings because by now they are soggy but dump in the rest of the casserole. Sweet potatoes are fine. So are almost any other vegetable you served—spinach, broccoli, turnips, carrots, peas, etc. Dressing will add great flavor. Taste for seasoning. If the broth is a bit bland, add a bouillon cube or some Better Than Bouillon. You’ll have a pot of soup that recreates Christmas dinner. And so easy! The only thing I probably wouldn’t put in the soup is cranberry in whatever form you served it. Or salad if you served one.

Creamy turkey soup with pasta

As I write, it is 15^o outside, which makes me think we’ll be eating soups for weeks to come. Want to adapt the soup of the week technique for other meals? Save even the tiniest bit of leftovers. If you’re feeding a family, you’ll probably accumulate enough leftovers for soup once a week. Rather than fill your freezer with a dab of this and a bite of that, make a soup container. Spinach casserole left one night? Put it in that container and freeze. Some chopped steak a few nights later? Dump it on the spinach and freeze. You need a bit of common sense here. Maybe start two soup containers—in Texas, we’d have one for chili, beans, things with Mexican or southwestern flavors, and another for meat-and-potatoes kinds of dishes.

To make soup: Defrost your odds and ends when you have enough. You’ll probably need something to bind them together as soup, so always keep concentrated broth (beef, chicken, or vegetable) on hand (I prefer Better Then Bouillon these days, but you can also use boxed broth or bouillon cubes) and canned, diced tomatoes. Use one or both. No matter what you use, soup of the week always seems to come out brown, but that’s okay. In Texas we’re known for brown food anyway—beef, beans, chicken-fried steak, and the like.

If you need to add to your soup pot, frozen corn is a great addition, along with frozen petite peas. Dice carrots, onion, celery (you can make a mire poix by sautéing those vegetables before adding); cooked potatoes, rice, egg noodles or even spaghetti will add bulk to your soup. I’ve read that adding cream cheese gives you a rich, creamy soup—but I have not tried. Let the soup simmer all day in a crockpot or low heat on a hot plate if you’re around to keep re-starting it. Just check occasionally that you don’t cook away all the broth. Season to taste—salt, pepper, garlic powder, herbs; cumin and oregano if you’re going for a chili or enchilada-based soup.

Leftovers? Use them to start a new soup. In fact, that bit of leftover Christmas turkey soup would make a great start on a new pot.

 

Quick and easy—mostly

 

Back in the day I used to give an annual Tree Trimming Party at Christmas. Each guest was asked to bring an ornament to hang on the tree. At the beginning of the evening there was a bare tree; at the end, there was always a festive, fully decorated tree. And I still have a wonderful collection of ornaments, each with a story. (Of course, there was the year the tree fell over, caught just in time by one quick guest.)

Weeks before the party, I began cooking. And days in advance, the dining table was spread with empty dishes, each with a little note indicating what as to go in that dish. The first year Christian saw those empty dishes, he told Jordan, “You and your mother have a screw loose.” Now he understands our methods.

My Christmas offering to you is some of the favorite recipes from those parties. Mostly, these are standard appetizers that were served twenty or thirty years ago, but you, like me, may have forgotten about them. So here’s a reminder.

Crab and cream cheese brick

Boston lettuce leaves

2 8-oz. pkg. cream cheese

6 oz. frozen snow crab (this is an old recipe and crab may not be available in that quantity; you can use canned crab if necessary)

Bottled cocktail sauce

Line serving platter with lettuce leaves. Place cheese bricks on lettuce. Flake the crab and drain well on paper towels, discarding any membranes, etc. Arrange crab on cheese bricks and drizzle with sauce. Be careful not to use too much sauce as it gets messy quickly. This is good with cocktail rye.

Bourbon hot dogs (my kids’ choice)

2 pkg. hot dogs, preferably kosher

¾ cup bourbon

2 cups ketchup

½ cup brown sugar

2 Tbsp. minced onion

Combine everything except the hot dogs and simmer until sugar melts. Cut hot dogs into chunks and add to sauce. Continue to simmer. Serve warm with toothpicks.

Sausage cheese balls

2 lbs. uncooked sausage – you choose hot, medium, or mild

1 lb. sharp cheddar cheese, grated

1-1/2 cups Bisquick or similar baking mixture

½ cup finely chopped celery

½ cup finely chopped onion

½ tsp, garlic powder

Mix everything together and form into one-inch balls. Bake on ungreased cookie sheet at 375^o for 15 minutes until golden brown. Makes 6 dozen.

Onion sticks

½ lb. butter, softened

One envelope onion soup mix

12 slices white bread, crusts removed

           Mix soup and butter together and spread evenly on bread. Cut each slice into five strips. Bake at 375^o on ungreased cookie sheet for ten minutes. Makes five dozen.

Imitation escargot

1 tube refrigerated crescent rolls

3 Tbsp. anchovy paste

2 Tbsp. butter

A dash of garlic powder

Unroll the dough on a lightly floured surface and press the seams together until you have four rectangles. Mix anchovy paste, butter, and garlic and spread evenly over each rectangle. Roll up, starting at narrow end. Slice into 1/2-inch pieces and place, cut side down, on ungreased cookie sheet. Bake twelve minutes at 350^o and serve warm. Makes twenty-eight rolls.

My favorite story about these is that once, when my children were very young, they saw a basket of imitation escargot ready to be served, mistook them for pecan rolls (they do look like the miniature pecan rolls they sometimes had for breakfast), and helped themselves. I’m not sure they’ve forgiven me to this day.

Happy Holidays!

 

 

 

 

 

Tis the season

 

Cheeseball.

As the holidays approach, many of us turn our thoughts to cooking those family favorites that have come down to us, perhaps through a generation or more. Maybe it’s the special cookie recipe your mom had or your dad’s favorite dressing recipe. Remember when we used to call it stuffing and it was inside the bird? No more. Food experts have told us that way lies food poisoning, and we serve it separately now—though I can’t recall anyone in my childhood getting sick on turkey dressing.

For me, two Christmas Eve dishes stand out—pickled shrimp and the family cheeseball. My kids still want the cheeseball at Thanksgiving and Christmas. Sophisticated foodies tell us that a cheeseball is so retro! If you follow Facebook, which I admit I do without embarrassment or apology, you’ve seen those questioning memes: “Does anybody still eat this?” It may be salmon patties or meatloaf or, yes, cheeseball. In my household, the answer to all three is a resounding yes.

There are many versions of cheeseballs, but I’m happy to share with you the MacBain/Alter version:

Cheeseball

½ lb. Roquefort

1 pkg. Old English cheese (no longer available—I use an 8-oz. pkg of Velveeta)

l 8-oz. pkg. cream cheese

½ lb. pecans, chopped fine

1 bunch parsley, chopped fine

1 tsp. Worcestershire sauce

1 small onion, chopped fine         

½ tsp. horseradish (pure horseradish, not the horseradish cream sauce that is all over the markets these days)

Let the cheese soften to room temperature and mix thoroughly. Add Worcestershire, onion, horseradish, and half of the parsley and pecans. Mix thoroughly and shape into a ball. (Do not do this in the food processor, as it will become too runny. A mixer will make it too smooth and creamy—wash your hands thoroughly and dig in, so the finished cheese ball has some texture but no big chunks of cheese.) Roll the ball in the remaining parsley and pecans. Chill.

I like to serve this with Ritz crackers; Jordan prefers Wheat Thins; cocktail rye is also good.

To my surprise, cheese balls develop mold if refrigerated too long. But you can freeze this one for three to four months if you’re really preparing ahead for the holidays or if you have leftovers. Jordan and I took a huge one to Tomball at Thanksgiving and have another in the freezer. We’ll share with neighbors, and then, with leftovers, we’ll reshape and freeze, maybe for Twelfth Night. I suggested we could save it for her March birthday, but she claims it’s only to be eaten at the holidays.

 

Since I developed an allergy to shrimp in my twenties, we don’t serve pickled shrimp, but I long to have it again. For those of you who can eat shellfish, here’s my mom’s recipe.

Pickled shrimp

2-1/2 lb. shrimp

½ cup celery tops

3-1/2 tsp. salt

¼ cup mixed pickling spices

           Cover the above with boiling water and cook briefly, just until the shrimp are pink. Drain, cool, and peel the shrimp. (Note: don’t use pre-cooked shrimp—you need them to heat with the other ingredients).

           In  shallow dish, alternate layers of shrimp (sliced in half if you wish) and 2 cups sliced sweet onions. (Mom didn’t have sweet onions available, but I think they’re better.)

Combine:

1-1/2 cups salad oil

¾ cup white vinegar

1-1/2 tsp. salt

2-1/2 Tbsp. capers with juice

Dash of Tabasco

           Mix well and pour over shrimp and onions. Cover and let stand in refrigerator for at least twenty-four hours before serving. Will keep a week, refrigerated.

Happy Holidays                                                                                            

 

 

Time for some bean soup

 

 

Black bean soup

Growing up in Chicago, I knew only what Texans call “northern beans” and I was taught were Boston baked beans—we’d open a can and season it with brown sugar or molasses. Ketchup, mustard, onion. Pretty much, it was a kitchen sink dish. When I moved to Texas (well over fifty years ago), I discovered pintos. I was leery, especially of refritos, which I first ate at Joe T. Garcia’s where I was overwhelmed by dishes I’d never heard of and, at first, ate tentatively. But I learned to love TexMex and to cook pinto beans. And I gave up cooking “northern” beans. I still love them, but Bush’s Original tastes just like home to me.

In recent years, I’ve really broadened my bean menu. I learned, for instance, that I could never cook black beans soft enough. I buy the canned. And lately I’ve learned a new trick: you don’t always have to drain and rinse beans. It depends on what you’re doing with them. Before, I was a bit disdainful of that thick, syrupy liquid, but it turns out it’s packed with flavor and vitamins. I learned this making the easiest black bean soup ever. I may never do it another way. I adapted this from America’s Test Kitchen.

Black bean soup

2 cans black beans

2 cups chicken broth

1 4 oz. can green chilis

¼ cup milk (as needed—I don’t like bean soup too thin)

¼ cup plain Greek yogurt

Lime wedges and cilantro to serve

Three things are key to this soup: Do not drain the beans; process about half the beans until they are thick and smooth; be generous with the lime juice.

Simmer beans, broth, and chilis until the mixture begins to thicken. Put about half the mixture in food processor, run until smooth, and return to the pan. Simmer until heated through to serving temperature. If the consistency is too thick, thin with a bit of milk but do it gradually.

To serve: pour soup into bowls or soup plates and top with a generous dollop o f yogurt and a sprig of cilantro. Serve with lime wedges.

Want a white bean soup? Here’s one I adapted from Cook’s Kitchen. The big difference here is the use of pickled celery for garnish. My dinner guest kept saying, “I’ve never had pickled celery.” It was different and good.

To pickle celery:

½ cup rice vinegar

1 scant Tbsp. sugar

½ tsp. salt

1 celery rib, minced

           Heat first four ingredients until simmering. Add celery off heat and let it sit for fifteen or twenty minutes while you make the soup. Drain and set aside.

The soup:

2 Tbsp. olive oil

½ cup chopped onion

1 celery rib, minced

½ tsp. dried thyme

2 garlic cloves, minced

A pinch of cayenne (optional but it adds a good spark)

2 cans white beans, undrained

2 Tbsp. fresh grated Parmesan or Pecorino

2 cups chicken broth

2 Tbsp. butter

Lemon wedges

Sauté onion and celery in olive oil until soft. Add thyme, cayenne, and garlic and cook for a minute. Then add undrained beans and simmer until heated through.

At this point, use an immersion blender if you have it and want a smooth soup. If  you want some chunky beans in  your soup, remove half the beans to the processor. Add Parmesan, 1 cup broth, and butter. Process until smooth and return to the bean mixture. Stir in remaining broth a bit at a time until you get the thickness you want. Heat to desired serving temperature.

Serve in soup plates. Garnish with the celery. Serve with lemon wedges.

So guess what we’re having for dinner tonight? Rice bowls with chicken, black beans, and chopped fresh vegetables. Yep, we’ll drain those beans.

 

Updating the old familiar

 

I am not a modern cook who scorns canned soup as an ingredient.
I proudly cook with canned soup frequently.

This time of year, two themes run through food magazines and online sites. There is either advice on how to cook the perfect turkey or suggestions for alternative entrees for those who are tired of the bird. That’s never a question for my family: they want what they have always had, cooked the way they have always had it.

So our Thanksgiving begins with a cheese ball of blue, cream, and cheddar (read Velveeta these days). Pride of place goes to the turkey, with dressing in a separate pan and never again in the turkey, mashed potatoes (Jordan’s specialty), gravy lots of gravy, green bean casserole with French’s fried onions, and, ideally, my mother’s everlasting yeast rolls (kudos to granddaughter Morgan who has volunteered to make the rolls this year). No substitutions, no “improving” the recipe. I’ve made it all for so many years I can do it from scratch.

This year Jordan is slated to provide the green bean casserole, cheeseball, and potatoes. As we made a grocery list, we quibbled over how many cans of green beans (oh yes, they must be canned) to buy, so for kicks I looked up the recipe online. Just for quantity, you understand. But I found a new twist—Campbell’s own web site suggests adding a bit of soy and some milk. Jordan was absolutely horrified when I read that to her, but I’ll keep working on it, because I think it would be a good addition. Here are the ingredients for a casserole to feed six (we will double or triple the recipe):

Green bean casserole

4 cans cut green beans

1 can Campbell’s cream of mushroom soup

½ cup milk

1 tsp. soy sauce

1-1/2 cups French’s French Fried onion rings    

I was so taken with the idea of checking out old favorites that when we decided on a pot roast the other night, I went back to Campbell’s for the traditional onion soup recipe, long a favorite. Once again, I found updates. I used to make it for the kids with carrots and potatoes, cream of mushroom soup, dry onion soup mix, and red wine, but here’s what I did this time:

Onion soup pot roast     

3-1/2 lb. beef chuck roast, boneless

¼ tsp. salt

2-1/2 Tbsp. vegetable oil

1/8 tsp. pepper

1 can Campbell’s cream of mushroom soup

1 packet dry onion soup mix

1 cup red wine

3 cloves garlic, sliced

Potatoes, carrots, and celery

4 sprigs fresh thyme

2 bay leaves

1 6-inch sprig fresh rosemary

Salt and pepper the roast and brown in oil. Mix soups, wine and garlic and pour into slow cooker (I did it stovetop all day—and it took all day!). Stir in vegetables. Place herbs in center of cooker on top of vegetables and place the meat directly over the herbs. Cook on low 7-8 hours. Remove meat to cool and thicken gravy with 2 Tbsp. flour stirred into ¼ cup cold water.

This is one of those recipes that prove how helpful it is to have your own herb garden! It got raves from the family and recipe requests from Christian and Chandry, who was our guest that night. I think I heard Christian say it was better than the Mississippi pot roast he makes. Good leftovers too.

Do you have some old favorites you might want to rethink or upgrade just a bit? Nothing drastic.                                                                                              

The lazy, lazy days—of November?

 

Those lazy, hazy days belong to summer. It’s November, and we’re all supposed to be busy with work and school and elections and holiday preparations—and even keeping dry and warm. But I have had two delicious, lazy days in a row, and I relished them.

Yesterday I woke up with the sure sense that if I didn’t do a thing, nothing in the world would stop or crash and crater, not even anything in my own small world. It was a hazy, rainy day—a slow, gentle rain, the kind of day to inspire laziness. There was not a thing on my calendar. My family was to be gone for supper. I had hard-boiled eggs for quick egg salad for lunch and the gift of split pea soup for supper, from a friend who knows how I love it. Sure, I had a Gourmet on the Hot Plate blog to write and another scene in my Irene book I wanted to get done, but really, what bad thing would happen if I didn’t do those things.

(That reminds me of a story—when Colin, my oldest, was about three, he said, “Ann says if you don’t eat breakfast, something bad will happen. What?” Ann was a friend who lived with us for a while. I absolutely had no answer for his question.)

Today was not quite so lazy, but close. We got to talking the other night about pot roast, specifically one I’ve done for years with cream of mushroom soup, red wine, and dry onion soup. (I am not one of those cooks who gets self-righteous about not cooking with prepared soups—I love them in lots of recipes!) Jordan said she was hungry for it, Mary offered to shop for the roast, and I found myself committed to making it for Friday night supper. Just to check the cooking time, I looked up a recipe and found some changes. Besides, I’m not sure I had ever done a pot roast in my tiny kitchen. Not a problem, I thought.

Turns out the problem, like so many, was not in the actual doing but in the anticipation. Sophie woke me from a sound sleep a bit after two in the morning. By the time I got her out and in and went back to bed, I couldn’t sleep. I swear I cooked that pot roast twenty times in my head. And I kept worrying about being tired because I hadn’t slept—surely a familiar worry to many of us. (My mom used to reassure me that I had really slept and didn’t realize it, and to this day I tend to believe Mom.) I even got up earlier than usual to get the darn thing cooking.

I browned the meat in a heavy pan first, and there began my problems. A three-pound chuck roast can be pretty unwieldy when you’ve lost strength in your arms (torn rotator cuffs) and hands (age). Besides between my seated walker and the hot plate on the counter, the angle is awkward. I splashed grease all over myself just getting it into the pan. Fortunately, I had the bright idea to move the pan to my work surface to transfer the meat to a plate, add the veggies and sauce and herbs, and put the meat on top. But between fighting with the meat and chopping the vegetables, it took me well over an hour to get the silly thing cooking on the hot plate.

Problem: the hot plate cooks for an hour and then turns off automatically—a safety measure, I know, to ensure you don’t walk away and forget it. So, every hour I heard it beep, got up, turned it back on, and reset the cooking temperature. Even during my nap—Mom’s theory again: I would tell you I didn’t sleep but I sure dozed. I put the roast on at ten; at five, it was not done. But by seven, it was fork tender and delicious. My favorite part? The carrots. Do not talk to me about InstaPots. My good friend Mary is always telling me how easy it would be to do in an InstaPot, but I like the old-fashioned long cooking, and I have time to do it.

But once the roast was cooking, my day was free. It was another drizzly, dark day, which didn’t make me feel ambitious. I read emails, explored social media, wrote about 500 words—and napped of course.

Jordan’s friend, Chandry, came for happy hour, stayed for pot roast supper, and we had a delightful time. Chandry and her husband have become very active in University Christian Church, so we had a lot of church talk, family talk, food talk. And bonus: everyone loved the pot roast.

So now, it’s late, and Sophie and I are getting ready to wrap up the day. Tomorrow brings light cooking—Jean is coming for supper, and I had promised her salmon but have changed the menu. Hope she doesn’t mind. And maybe Colin will help me figure out why I still can’t get on to the Central Market website. I have solved a couple of smaller computer problems myself (makes me so proud!) and Christian solved an annoying one for me tonight.

I’m ready for some sunshine tomorrow. How about you? Chandry reported that her husband is hunting in West Texas and it’s snowing. He loves it. I’m glad it’s in West Texas and not Fort Worth.

My favorite new discovery

 

My coaster turned dipping dish.

What’s your favorite part of a good meal at a fine Italian restaurant? If it’s not the tiramisu, mine may be the seasoned olive oil for dipping those crusty bread slices. And now I’ve discovered how to do that at home.

It should be no surprise that one day I was browsing Central Market’s web site looking for an appetizer. A new guest was coming to the cottage for happy hour, along with a good friend who I know needs carbs on a strict schedule. What to fix that would provide carbs and be a little bit showy, just a tad sophisticated? I came across a jar of dipping spices—you know, the small bottle most spices come in. And right next to it were dipping dishes—small, white, round. Eureka! I’d order that and a sliced baguette.

But when my order was delivered (by grandson Jacob) they had removed the dishes and listed the spices as out of stock—they still show on the site. This was the day before the happy hour, and I was fixated on serving that. I decided to go online for a recipe—found one that looked interesting. And realized that those pretty blue and white coasters I keep on the coffee table would be perfect dipping dishes. It was a hit, and I’ve served it twice more to raves—even had to make a second batch. Who knows? Tiny jars (it goes a long way) may make great Christmas gifts. It does store well and doesn’t necessarily have to be refrigerated.

Dipping spices

(Note that these are all dried flakes of spices; you do not want moisture to get into the mix.)

1 tsp. garlic powder

1 Tbsp. oregano

1 Tbsp. basil

1 Tbsp. parsley

2 tsp. onion powder

2 tsp. freshly cracked black pepper

½ tsp. red pepper flakes

1-1/2 tsp. kosher salt

1 tsp. thyme

½ tsp. rosemary

           Most of us have these spices in our cupboard, refrigerator, or freezer. The great thing about this recipe is that if you’re missing one or two ingredients, no one will ever know. It is what I call a forgiving recipe.

To serve, pour olive oil into a small pitcher. Put a basket of baguette slices on the table, and a small jar of the spices. If you want, you can also offer a small dish of grated Parmesan or Pecorino. If you have tiny serving spoons, like demitasse or espresso spoons, they are perfect for serving. Each guest can experiment to determine their favored spice to oil ratio and whether or not they want cheese (the cheese does tend to thicken the dip.)

Warning: I served this one night recently and ate so much I couldn’t even finish my salad for supper. And no, you don’t have to have an Italian entrée with this.

Another warning: Christian says not to put any unused dip with spices in it down the sink or disposal. Throw them in the trash.

Buon appetito!

*Recipe adapted from rachelcooks.com

Updating a couple of old favorite side dishes

 

Not my image
No chickpeas in my bean salad
I'm not particularly taken with chickpeas

Everyone has dishes they do they way they’ve been doing them for years, right? I mean it’s always been good enough. Except in prowling the net for recipes, which I do a lot, I found two updates that I’m loving.

For years my family has loved a salad we called marinated vegetables. Can’t even remember where I got the idea, but I would dump vegetables into a Dutch oven (not because I was going to cook but because it was the right size)—cut canned green beans, artichoke heart quarters, sliced sweet or red onion, drained and rinsed pinto or kidney beans, broccoli and cauliflower flowerets (some it was good to parboil or steam them just a bit). You could add sliced bell peppers—I just happen to really not like them. Originally I remember directions called for head lettuce and avocado but those don’t hold up well after the first serving. To dress it? Just bathe with your favorite bottled dressing, usually some version of Italian. In recent years, we’ve preferred Paul Newman’s Own Oil and Vinegar. This is great for feeding a crowd.

But sometimes you don’t want that huge salad that lasts a week in the fridge. And three-bean salad is perfect for family meals. If I knew how to do that marinated vegetable salad, surely I knew how to make three-bean salad. Same method, fewer ingredients. Once or twice I tried canned or deli-prepared bean salad, but it was always too sweet for me. Then I discovered this recipe.

Three bean salad

16 oz. canned, cut beans (if you can find yellow or wax beans, use an 8 oz. can of those and an 8 oz. can green; I’ve had trouble finding the wax beans, and an all-green salad is just fine)

1 15-oz. can red beans, drained and rinsed (I prefer the small red to the larger kidney beans)

1 small, red or sweet onion, thinly sliced

For the dressing:

¼ cup cider vinegar

3 Tbsp olive oil

1 Tbsp. honey

1 garlic clove, pressed or micro planed

Pepper to taste

Since I disliked the sweet bean salads I’ve tasted, I had real reservations about that tablespoon of honey, but it somehow accentuates the flavor and yet you don’t actually taste honey.

Serve chilled; keeps well in the refrigerator.

British methods of baking potatoes

Another thing everybody knows to how to do is bake potatoes, though there’s always the controversy about wrapping them in foil or oiling them or just sticking them in the oven at 350 for an hour and testing to be sure they’re soft inside. It only takes one potato exploding in the oven to teach a new cook to poke holes in the skin before baking.

I’ve been baking potatoes for decades, obviously, and saw no need to change my ways—until I read about the British method. Scrub potatoes thoroughly but instead of poking holes, cut a good-sized cross in the top of each. Bake at 400^o for two hours—that’s right, two hours! My toaster oven seems to run a little hot, so I did them at 375.

Remove from oven and as soon as you can handle them, with an oven mitt, cut each potato open lengthwise. Use a fork to get inside and fluff the meat. This is a bit difficult because you’re dodging a hot potato, but it’s worth it. Then put the potatoes back in that hot oven for another ten minutes. Makes the fluffiest potatoes ever with skin so crisp you’ll eat every bite.

And a word about oven roasted potatoes

Maybe it was the long cooking of the British method, but I’ve been inspired to cook potatoes a bit longer lately. The other night I roasted a pork tenderloin in the oven—it only takes 30 minutes, so if I wanted to scatter potatoes around it, I’d have o cut them fairly small to ensure they cooked through. I cut small red potatoes into fourths—pieces not much bigger than your thumbnail. Tossed them with generous salt and pepper and some olive oil and scattered them around the pork. Once again, crisp, salty skins and really soft insides. Jordan said I wasn’t cooking enough, and I said, “Oh, nobody eats that much potato.” I was so wrong. Wished I’d cooked more.

Holiday entertaining on my mind …

 

Holidays to me mean lots of grazing food – cheeseballs and dips and spreads for all those buffets and happy hours you’re going to host. For years (probably almost fifty), I hosted some version of an annual tree trimming party. When I was a kid, my dad and brother put lights on the tree and walked away; Mom and I were left to decorate. It was not the jolly family shared experience Norman Rockwall would have us all envision. So I swore when I had my own home, tree the trimming would be festive and happy.

Most years I had anywhere from fifty to seventy guests. The price of admission was always the same: bring an ornament and hang it on the tree. As a result, I have a huge collection of unique ornaments, now stored in the attic, because I have only a small, tabletop fake tree. But I can still tell you the story behind many of my ornaments.

My dining table was extended and full of everything from pate and a caviar dip to bourbon-soaked cocktail sausages and cheeseball. The buffet on the side held cookies, a chocolate Bundt cake, and Aunt Reva’s sheet cake. I began cooking at least by early November, and the freezer was stocked. Some of the things I served are now considered passé, cheeseballs and dips among them, but my family and I still love them. Here are three I frequently served.

Caesar dip

If you love Caesar salad, as I do, this is the dip for you. It’s like eating the dressing.

1 cup mayonnaise

½ cup sour cream

½ cup grated fresh Parmesan

1 Tbsp. lemon juice

1 garlic clove, pressed or grated

1 anchovy filet or 1 tsp. anchovy paste

           Caesar salad was originally finger food—you dipped the base of a leaf of romaine in the dressing. I have had it served that way in restaurants, and at Fort Worth’s Pacific Table where the Caesar salad has uncut leaves, I eat it that way. So a great dipper for this would be small leaves from the hearts of a couple of heads of romaine (use the remaining leaves for a green salad). Other crudities would work well too—carrots, broccoli flowers, green pepper strips, cucumber slices. Baguettes slices and crackers are also perfectly acceptable.

Sherry cheese paté

8 oz. cream cheese

1 cup grated sharp cheddar

1 T. dry sherry (cooking sherry if you must)

½ tsp. curry powder

¼ tsp.

¼ salt

1 8 oz. jar chutney, any flavor you want – I am partial to apricot

2 green onions, chopped

Mix cream cheese, cheddar, sherry, curry powder, and salt. Spread on serving plate and chill. Spread the chutney on top of the mixture and scatter green onion bits for decoration. Serve with crackers and a cocktail spreader or knife.

Caviar Spread

This is the dish that people asked for year after year.

2-1/2 8-oz. pkg. cream cheese, softened

1 c. mayonnaise

1 small onion, grated

1 Tbsp. Worcestershire

1 Tbsp. lemon juice

Dash of hot sauce

1 4-oz. jar black caviar

3-4 hard-cooked eggs, finely chopped

Chopped parsley

Mix first seven ingredients with electric mixer until smooth. Spoon into shallow serving dish. Top with caviar, eggs, and parsley. Serve with small pumpernickel breads or party rye if you can find them. Crackers are good too.

You don’t have to wait for Christmas to serve these. They’d be great for that family Thanksgiving get-together.