A cooking triumph

 

salmon en croute

Since I recently confessed to one or more cooking failures, I want to share a triumph with you this week. It involves one of my favorite foods and a culinary technique that has intrigued but intimidated me for a while. Last weekend, I made salmon en croute. I’ve always wanted to try Beef Wellington, but I think that was more fascination with technique. I like salmon better than beef. For some time now I’ve collected recipes for salmon in a crust, ranging from complicated to the writer who said she just winged it and used common sense. I aimed for somewhere in the middle

I always have puff pastry sheets in the freezer, probably in the hope I’ll make spanakopita, so that was no problem. Next came a layer of sauteed mushrooms, with onion and garlic. Then the salmon: Colin and I recently split a case of canned line-caught, wild King salmon direct from Alaska. I’ve been buying tuna by the case from a small, independent fishing couple in Oregon for years. Their salmon supply dried up—if I understand it correctly, the situation is due to corporate control of fishing grounds and the fact that most salmon nowadays is farm raised.

One caution I’ve read too often from fishmongers is that farmed fish, salmon but more especially tilapia, can easily be contaminated. My tuna lady recommended a company called Alaska Gold. It’s expensive, but Colin and I thought it was worth it. So, after the long story, here’s the short version: I substituted canned salmon for the fresh filet the recipe called for. I don’t think it would be as good with commercial brands. The salmon I used is cooked once rather than the usual twice, with no additives or preservatives except salt.

Back to the salmon en croute: after the salmon came a layer of spinach. The recipe did not call for goat cheese, but I had some spreadable, and I spooned dollops on top of the spinach. Then came the top layer of pastry and an egg wash. It looked lovely and tasted wonderful. Here’s what I did.

For the mushroom layer:

1 Tbsp. olive oil

½ medium onion, chopped

1 cup fresh mushrooms, chopped

1 tsp. minced garlic.

Sauté onion until translucent; add mushrooms and garlic and cook, stirring, until the mushrooms are soft. Season with salt and pepper and reserve in a small bowl.

For the spinach layer:

Sauté garlic quickly, being sure not to let it burn; Add spinach by handfuls, as it cooks down, and stir until all is wilted. Season with salt and pepper.

Assembly:

2 sheets puff pastry

Salmon

Goat cheese

1 egg

           Coat a work surface with flour and lay out one sheet of pastry. Spread mushroom mixture over it, stopping ½ inch from the edges all the way around.

Center salmon on mushroom mixture. I halved the recipe and used one 7 oz. can salmon in chunks. These directions are for the full recipe, and you’d need two cans or one 14 oz filet (skinned) or two 7 oz. filets might actually work better. Evenly distribute spinach over the salmon and then top with dollops or slices of goat cheese. Place remaining sheet of pastry over and press to seal the edges.

Brush the top pastry with beaten egg and transfer the whole thing to a baking sheet. This is easier said than done. I’d advise two big spatulas and, if possible, an extra set of hands. Bake at 350^o until crust is golden brown. Let it cool slightly before cutting.

You can serve this with a dill sauce of lemon, mayonnaise, and a touch of mustard, but I thought it was just fine without the sauce. Should serve four nicely. Half the recipe served two generously with a slice left for lunch the next day. It is, however, not nearly as good the next day. The pastry gets a bit tough.

Kitchen fail--and eggplant reconsidered

 

I have some good friends who like eggplant, though my family has threatened death and destruction if I ever serve it again. I told Colin I’d never served it to him when he was a child, and he retorted, “Oh yes you did, and it was slimy.” So maybe I didn’t know to bake it instead of fry it. My friend Teddy loves it, and I have made two different eggplant dinners for Sue and him, and they’ve both been enthusiastic. Kathie also likes it, and I keep meaning to make her a dish. Meantime, one night recently, I made a recipe for Jean that sounded so good to me. Layered tomato and eggplant. What could go wrong?

When I read the recipe carefully that morning, I found it a bit more complicated than I thought. First off, you had to peel the eggplant, which is more difficult and perilous than I expected. I accomplished it without cutting myself, which made me proud. Then you cubed it and boiled it until soft. Drain and mash. Add onions, garlic, beaten egg, breadcrumbs, and pesto. So far so good. I put that mixture in the fridge, so that I could assemble the dish at the last minute. As I worked, I thought with great satisfaction about how good it sounded.

Jordan was here for happy hour when Jean arrived, so we sat, caught up on each other’s news, etc. But I finally decided it was time to cook. Easy-peasy: layer tomato, then eggplant mixture, then more tomato and top with grated cheddar. Bake at 350 for thirty minutes. When it came out of the oven, we both raved about how good it looked.

Jean liked it, ate two helpings; I did not. I could think of several things that would have been better: the onions should have been sauteed and softened first, the eggplant should have been sliced—as it was it got lost, the pesto was unnecessary, the cheddar too bold.

What I would do another time—if there is another time—is layer tomatoes (salt and pepper them), then slices of unpeeled eggplant, sauteed onion rings, a milder cheese like Monterrey Jack, and then more tomatoes. Cover liberally with grated Monterry Jack or slices of provolone. Mind you, this is not a recipe: it’s just a thought.

Since my kitchen fail, I’ve realized eggplant is ubiquitous, probably because it’s in season right now. But if you look online, you’ll see it stuffed, grilled, fried, baked, rolled, used in salads and spreads, served caprese style. I’ve seen recipes for curried eggplant (Indian), hot and sour (Vietnamese), Greek-style. I might even try the pasta caponata (caponata is a Middle Eastern spread of eggplant, fried and chopped, seasoned with olive oil, onion, garlic, tomatoes, lemon, capers and probably whatever else strikes your fancy). And there’s always babaganoush which is good if it’s not too strong with garlic. But I’ll pass on eggplant churros. Honest, I saw a recipe!

Here’s my favorite eggplant recipe:

Eggplant parmesan

2 eggplants

2 lbs. ground beef

2 cloves garlic, crushed

2 14-oz. cans diced tomatoes

2 6-oz. cans tomato paste

1 tsp. salt

Pepper to taste

Pinch of sugar

3 c. breadcrumbs (about 6 slices)

⅔ c. grated Parmesan

Provolone cheese slices

Vegetable oil, as needed; start with 3 Tbsp. but eggplant really soaks up oil and you may need to add more as you go along

Halve two eggplants lengthwise and hollow out, leaving shells about ¼ inch thick. Cube eggplant that you’ve cut out and sauté in vegetable oil until soft. Drain well on paper towels. Brown beef; add garlic, tomatoes, tomato paste, salt, pepper, and sugar and simmer 15 minutes.  Stir in breadcrumbs, sautéed eggplant, and Parmesan.

Spoon into eggplant shells. It won’t all fit, so use an extra side dish. Top with sliced provolone and bake. Will probably feed five, but only four get the eggplant halves. The fifth person has to eat out of a small oven dish.

Cooking lessons

 

salmon cakes
Yes, I till eat them!

With my “away” kids visiting serially last week, I tried to cook according to each one’s taste—and taught myself some cooking lessons along the way. Jamie was first, and I fixed two old favorites the way I always have—squash casserole and green noodles. No lessons there.

But for Colin, who came next, I tried to experiment. Colin and I both love salmon and have together just invested in a case of wild-caught canned King salmon straight from a fishermen’s coop in Alaska. For his dinner, though, I used a couple of Wild Planet cans I had on hand, also labeled wild-caught (I do not want farm-raised salmon which I believe has health hazards). I found a recipe that called for smoked salmon mixed into the cakes. Why not? We both love lox. At first, I thought I’d make the cakes my usual way and just stir in the smoked salmon. But then I decided to follow the recipe and also add capers and dill—I think it was the capers that did it in, though Colin gamely said the more he ate, the better he liked it. I threw the recipe away. (This is my second try at smoked salmon in salmon cakes, and I hereby give up--each is too good to mess with it by mxing them.)

But there was a take-away. All my life I’ve used egg to bind salmon patties—that’s what my mom did. Believe me, I’ve made a lot of them over a long lifetime. Disgusting Vintage Foods Facebook posts occasionally show salmon cakes and ask querulously, “Does anybody still eat these?” My answer is a resounding “Yes!” I love them. But the unsuccessful recipe used mayo instead of egg to bind—small amount of both mayo and dried crumbs.

I tried this last night with the first can of the good new salmon, and it was great. Cakes held together better. All you need is salmon, salt and pepper, crumbs, and mayo, though I added a dash of Worcestershire and a pinch of dry mustard.

Lesson two came with Megan, who likes light, summer salads and who loves Asian food. I found an easy Asian chicken salad. For some time, I’ve been unhappy with boneless, skinless chicken breast that I cooked for salads, casseroles, etc. It was tough, no matter how I cooked it, so I used rotisserie chicken which is generally high in salt and cost. This recipe had directions for cooking chicken, and I followed them: dry the chicken with paper towels, salt and pepper generously, and get a good sear, a nice brown crust, on one side only. Reduce heat, turn chicken, add ¼ cup water (I had one whole breast), cover and simmer until tender and done. Much better. And the salad was delicious—Megan loved it. (A side lesson: Napa cabbage, which the recipe called for, is $11/head! Megan had to settle for plain, shredded cabbage.)

My third lesson came just two nights ago, with the Burtons back home and our first meal together. They love a pork tenderloin, but I find the meat dry (I think the same thing about a plain chicken breast). Usually I don’t buy tenderloins, but they were on sale, already marinated. First part of the lesson: most recipes call for marinating the meat yourself, which surely makes the cut cheaper. Besides, if it’s pre-marinated, you’re committed to a flavor before you begin. This one was marinated with herbs and Dijon mustard, and it was good, but I won’t routinely buy pre-marinated.

My mother taught me to save bits and pieces of this and that, a habit that sometimes frustrates Jordan as my small icebox dishes jump out of the freezer at her. But Mom lived through the Depression, and she saved every tiny leftover. I had saved the juice from cooking chicken for Megan’s salad, and I found one other similar, small container in the freezer. So I defrosted them.

Chicken fat rises to the top when refrigerated or frozen, so I scraped it off into a skillet, melted it, and added enough flour to make a roux. Then I made a sauce with the drippings. I had some chicken broth ready to go but didn’t need it. The sauce was good, the pork tender and moist. It was a win!

I had tucked potatoes and carrots around the tenderloin as it cooked, and the sauce/gravy was good on them too. I meant to eat the leftovers last night, but I ate two salmon cakes and all the leftover roasted baby carrots (I love cooked carrots but its one thing I can’t serve the family) and I was full. So lunch today is the remaining salmon cake and potatoes in gravy. Sounds good to me!

As I read more and more about Helen Corbitt, I find little nuggets that she called cooking hints. I guess that’s what today’s Gourmet on a Hot Plate column is: gourmet hints. We’re never too old to learn.

Green noodles and yellow squash

Our green and yellow supper

As I mentioned in last night’s blog, my son Jamie is here for a couple of days. When I asked what he wanted for supper, he surprised me with a request for green noodles, long a family favorite dish. Mushrooms are a major ingredient, and Jamie doesn’t eat mushrooms. When I asked, he said he likes them, sliced very thin, because they soak up the lemon juice.

I’ve been making green noodles ever since I’ve had a kitchen of my own. It’s not really a recipe but more of an idea that developed and grew over time. Years ago I knew a young single mother who struggled with her budget. One night she was expecting a gentleman caller for dinner, but she had no money for groceries. She used what she had on hand, melting butter in the skillet, adding cooked spaghetti and lots of lemon juice.

Over the years I have “improved” on the idea by using spinach noodles and adding scallions and mushrooms. Now I also add chopped artichoke hearts and a frozen “ice cube” of homemade pasta. Here’s what I do:

 

Green noodles

1 16-0z. pkg. spinach egg noodles

1 stick butter

8 oz. mushrooms, sliced (I always buy whole and slice them myself)

4 scallions, chopped

1 can quartered artichoke hearts, chopped

1 ice-cube size piece of pesto, thawed

Juice of one lemon

Grated fresh Parmesan

Cook and drain noodles. Melt butter in the skillet. (Megan, weight-conscious in high school, used to insist that was too much butter, and it may be, but it’s so good.) Sauté the mushrooms and scallions in the butter. Add chopped artichokes and the pesto, stirring to blend in the pesto. Add lemon juice to taste—I like lots; the mushrooms soak up the lemon and are delicious. Add noodles and toss to coat. Top with Parmesan. (A Jamie note: he’s a purist and wanted only butter, scallions, lemon juice and mushrooms in the sauce and no Parm on top).

If you serve green noodles with crusty bread, you’ve got a meal. But last night because Jamie loves yellow summer squash, I made a casserole. The combination proved perfect, especially with the contrasting colors. I know everyone can make squash casserole off the top of the head, but this was so simple and so good, I’m sharing. I think the key is the half teaspoon of sugar I added.

Summer Squash side dish

(serves fpir)

1 lb. squash, chopped

¼ cup water

¼ cup sweet onion, chopped

½ tsp. salt

½ tsp. sugar

¼ cup dry breadcrumbs (I used Ritz crackers)

2 tbsp. butter melted

Pepper to taste

½ cup shredded sharp cheddar cheese

 Cook squash, onion, and salt in ¼ cup water until squash and onion are soft.

Separately, mix sugar, crumbs, melted butter, and pepper.

Drain squash if necessary (I thought it was dry, added water during cooking, and then had too much liquid, so I drained it.) Stir crumb mixture into squash mixture and turn into baking pan. Top with grated cheese and bake 20 minutes at 350 or until cheese is melted and squash is warm.

A note on my gourmet kitchen: since I can use either the hot plate or the toaster oven, but not both at once (if used simultaneously, the circuit breaker trips), I baked the casserole in the toaster oven and let it sit, probably twenty minutes, while I boiled noodles and Jamie made the butter dressing. The casserole was perfectly warm when we ate. (Helen Corbitt says we should all dine, not eat—so when we dined.)

Another note: for Texas shoppers, you can find spinach fettucine at Central Market stores and probably at HEB Superstores.