A hot plate, some pasta, and leftovers

 

A pasta concoction--what ingredients can you identify?

As the name indicates, I started this blog to explore cooking with a hot plate instead of a stove because I now cook with a hot plate and a toaster oven—and I can’t use both simultaneously or I’ll blow the circuit breaker. I’ve gotten comfortable enough with my induction hot plate that the recipes I choose aren’t necessarily geared to that heat source. But today I want to talk about pasta and the hot plate.

Pasta is a great dish for the hot-plate cook—it offers an easy way to entertain, and in this day, when pasta is no longer red sauce over spaghetti, you can experiment all you want. Pasta is also a great way to use up leftovers. Whatever you choose to put in your sauce, pasta allows you to cook from scratch and to deal with individual foods in your final dish.

Most recipes call for cooking the pasta and, while it’s cooking, making the sauce on another burner. If you only have one hot plate, you obviously can’t do that. My trick is to cook the pasta, whatever shape and size you want, and rinse thoroughly in cold water when you get it to al dente stage. Remember, it will cook a bit more when you reheat in your sauce. Rinsing gets rid of most of that loose starch that makes cold pasta clump. Sure, it will chill while you make the sauce, but when the sauce is ready, you can dump the pasta into the skillet and reheat. Once, in the novel, Saving Irene, I had Henny James, the main character, pour a little olive oil on the pasta to keep it from clumping (I’ve been known to do that). I was roundly criticized by a reader who otherwise loved the book but claimed no self-respecting Italian would ever do that unless they were making aglio e olio (basically garlic and olive oil pasta).

An aside: I’ve discovered the advantages of serving pasta in soup plates. It makes everything so much easier. The pasta can’t slide off the plate. And I also always have parmesan or pecorino in my freezer, for spontaneous pasta meals. But back to leftovers.

One evening I was preparing to leave town the next day and wanted to use up what I could from the refrigerator. Prowling around, I found some good, thinly sliced ham left from a sandwich project, a stub of zucchini, and some asparagus that wouldn’t last much longer. I had spinach fettucine in the cupboard—just the right amount.

I sliced the zucchini thin, julienned the ham, and cut the asparagus into bite-size pieces. I used salt and pepper generously on the vegetables. Then a dollop of butter—maybe 1/8 cup--went into the skillet, and I sautéed the vegetables a bit longer than the ham—they needed to cook, and the ham was precooked and very thin. When the vegetables were cooked, I added the ham and well-drained pasta to the skillet, stirred, and heated on low until thoroughly warm. Just before dishing, I gently blended in a good-sized dollop (heaping tablespoon) of sour cream and some parmesan. Surprised myself both at how good it was and how much I ate.

Another suggestion: use canned salmon as your base. Add green peas (I love frozen petite peas), sliced green onions, chopped spinach. Season the vegetables and sauté in butter. Then sprinkle maybe 2 tsp. flour over them and stir to distribute evenly. Slowly make a sauce by pouring in white wine and half and half—maybe in equal parts. When the sauce is the right thickness (you be the judge), stir in some fresh or dried herbs—maybe a bit of basil or thyme or oregano. Stir in the cooked pasta and top with grated parmesan or pecorino for serving.

In general, spaghetti or angel hair, even fettucine, are best with light sauces. Richer, thicker sauces might call for tagliatelle or another type of pasta with lots of flat surface for the sauce to cling to. Tubular pastas like rotini, penne, or ziti are also good for heavy, meaty sauces—and for cold salads. Leftovers can make great pasta salads. Got some chicken from last night? Add some artichoke hearts, maybe quartered, some green onion, bell pepper if you like it (I don’t), sliced hearts of palm, cherry tomatoes halved, goat cheese--the possibilities are endless. Season with salt and pepper and herbs of your choice, and dress with a mixture of sour cream and mayonnaise or use as I sometimes do your favorite bottled vinaigrette (we like Newman’s Original Oil and Vinegar).

Go ahead, look in your refrigerator, and see what you find. Experiment and make a pasta dish for dinner tonight!

 

 

The Chicken Salad Controversy

 

Not my picture but the texture of the salad looks close.
Also, I liked the platter idea for serving.

When the weather starts to warm, Jordan shies away from “heavy” meals like pot roast and prefers salads. I’m with her a hundred percent, but there are two males in the family to feed. So we try for substantial salads—Cobb Salad (not Christian’s favorite), Big Mac Salad and Taco Salad (both Christian’s favorites). Don’t even mention Salade Niçoise because tuna is not on the list of recommended foods, even though I buy it by the case for Jordan and me.

So the other night I tried chicken salad. Christian and I have texture differences. He doesn’t like diced or even minced celery because it’s crisp where he doesn’t want crisp; I love celery in salads but hold the chopped nuts. To me, they are the wrong texture in the wrong place. So I put celery in the chicken salad, and he picked it out. And gave the salad only a B rating because it had no grapes and no nuts. The whole reason I liked the idea was that it had flavors different from the usual.

There is also the matter of how you like chicken cut for a salad—ruling out grilled chicken salad which is to me a whole different dish. Some liked it diced in nice-sized chunks (when I looked online for pictures of chicken salad, almost all showed chunks); some like it shredded, but you have to start with a warm piece of chicken to do that effectively. I used to whir chicken in the processor, so that it was really fine, and the salad came out with a creamy, almost spreadable texture. Now my choice is to mince it (partly so I don’t have to get out the processor). So here’s what I did:

Cilantro/Lime Chicken Salad

3 cups minced chicken (from a rotisserie chicken)

2/3 cup regular mayonnaise (light mayo or yogurt work but not as well)

1 tsp. garlic powder

½ tsp. each salt and pepper

2/3 cup minced celery (do string the celery before mincing)

¼ cup minced sweet onion

¼ cup green onion, chopped fine (you can use all sweet union or all green according to taste; I am on a sweet onion kick but wanted the color from green onion tops)

½ cup finely chopped cilantro (no need to stem it first)

Juice of one lime (more or less, according to taste—Jordan and I like more)

Optional: 1 sweet bell pepper, finely diced (if you cook with me much at all, you’ll learn I never use bell pepper: it doesn’t like me, and I don’t like it)

Mix it all together and chill before serving. Nice in an avocado half. Jordan offered “the boys” tortillas, so they could make it into a wrap, but I don’t think that idea went over well with either of them. A fruit salad might be a nice accompaniment. We had a traditional, tossed green salad. I’ll make this again and again this summer.

A note on stringing celery: somehow in raising Jordan, I never taught her to string celery. She used to stuff celery with cream cheese as an appetizer, and I’d get stuck with these strings. I have since tried to show her the technique. It’s like the time I watched Jamie struggling to peel a hard-boiled egg. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you to peel them under running cold water?” I demanded. He said no. Now he knows. I’m quite sure my mom taught me those little tricks, along with a pinch of sugar in tomato sauces, but I never passed them on to my children.

A hodgepodge and an old recipe

 

I thought at my age I knew how to cook, but it amazes me how many things I discover daily that make kitchen life and meals better (I feel the same way about computers!). Jordan is the one who figured out my latest lesson: because of the compact space of my toaster oven, when baking or roasting I need to put things on a lower rack and adjust the temperature and time downward. She pointed this out after I overcooked some pigs in a blanket—edible but not as soft as they should be. Her theory: not as much room for air and heat to circulate.

My other lesson was about using leftovers. Last week I made the best sheet pan chicken—pardon me for bragging but it was really good. I mean, the chicken was fine, but the vegetables—carrot, potatoes, and sweet onion—were out of this world. The trick was lots of salt, an olive oil drizzle, and then place the chicken right on the vegetables so that the meat juices drip down and flavor the potato, carrot, and onion. (See the recipe here: Gourmet on a Hot Plate: Chicken thighs and sheet pan cooking) We ate all the chicken but there was a generous helping of vegetables left over—I ate it for a vegetarian lunch the next day.

A couple of days later, I started to scramble some eggs, using olive oil instead of butter (I’m avoiding dairy these days, but that’s another story!). Just in time I remembered there was a tiny two bit of vegetables and some of the juices in the fridge. I dumped it all into two eggs, soft scrambled them, and had a winner of a dinner. (Honest, I did not do that rhyme on purpose.)

I’ll make that chicken again, although I have a new idea. Much as we liked the sheet pan chicken, we also like an herbed butter spatchcocked chicken that I make. So why not put a spatchcocked fowl on the vegetables? Some of my family prefer white meat, which I often find too dry, so this would satisfy everyone.

And the whole thing reminded me of a recipe I’ve cooked over the years. A friend once dubbed it the $8,000 Leg of Lamb because that’s what she said she’d pay for the recipe. You can have it free. It uses the same principle of letting meat juices drip into vegetables. If you like lamb, you’ll love it; if you don’t, just pass on by.

$8,000 leg of lamb with vegetables

About 5 white-skinned potatoes, peeled and sliced

3 onions, thinly sliced (these days I buy only sweet onions)

3 tomatoes, thinly sliced

Salt and pepper

Dried thyme

Chopped garlic to taste

¾ c. white wine

⅓ c. vegetable oil

6-7-lb. leg of lamb, excess fat trimmed but bone in

Grease a 9x13 pan and layer the bottom with sliced potatoes. Add onions and then tomatoes. Sprinkle each layer with salt, pepper, dried thyme, and a little chopped garlic. Pour white wine and vegetable oil over the vegetables. Cover pan with a cake or oven rack.

Season lamb to taste with salt and pepper and set it on the cake rack. Roast at 400° until meat thermometer registers 145° (about 75 minutes—the lamb will be medium rare; roast longer for better done, but don’t overdo it!). Turn the lamb every 20 minutes or so and baste with liquids from the vegetables. Remove from oven and let it collect itself before carving.

 

 

Have you ever cooked beets?

 

One day last week I was going to Central Market and Jean was coming for supper, so I was free to cook whatever I wanted. Usually when my family is out and Jean is here, I like to experiment. She’s a good audience for things they won’t touch. But this day I had decided on a sheet pan dinner of spinach, artichoke hearts, and salmon.

The trip to Central Market changed my mind. Guess what did it? Lovely fresh beets with beautiful, lush greens attached. I couldn’t resist. But the thought of salmon and beets in the same pan—or on the same plate—was not appealing. I repeat this a lot, but my mom always told me food is half eaten with the eye. My eye was offended at the color combination, so I switched to cod.

Beets are one of those things that people either love or hate. Jean and I both love them. Perhaps you mom made Harvard beets, cooking the vegetable in a sweet-and-sour sauce. Maybe you had canned beets. Maybe you never ate them. Even if you like them, you may not have ever cooked raw beets.

First step is to separate the beets from the greens—cut the stems at the beet, leaving maybe an inch. Rinse the greens and let them drain. Peeling raw beets is at best an exercise in frustration and at worst, impossible. My mom always boiled them, and Aunt Reva—that wonderful country cook who taught me so much—showed me that if you boil them and let them cool until you can handle them, you can hold them under running cold water and the peel slides right off.

But I like roast beets better than boiled these days. Scrub the beets thoroughly to remove any dirt that may cling. Then if you prefer, cut a square of foil for each beet, coat with olive oil and sprinkle with salt and pepper—bake at 400 about an hour. Beets are done when you can easily slip a fork into them. For the sake of simplicity and shrinking my footprint on earth, I omit the foil. Just coat the beets lightly in olive oil and bake. The bigger the beet, the longer it takes to cook, so try to get similar sizes. Some recipes suggest cutting beets into sections for faster cooking, but cutting a raw beet is as difficult as peeling it. The day I cooked them I had a couple of large beets that took well over an hour—just keep testing with that fork every few minutes.

Once they are soft, you can peel and do whatever with them. They are fully cooked at this point, but my mom used to slice them and put them in a saucepan with a bit of water and the greens. When the greens wilted, she served them with vinegar. I prefer lemon and butter—and salt. One warning: cooked beets are juicy and the juice stains (it is often used as a natural dye). Be careful of wooden cutting boards, clothes, etc.

Last week I cut the beets into chunks instead of slicing. Here’s what I did for the sheet pan supper:

Ingredients:

3 good-sized beets, with greens (washed)

Olive oil as needed

Lemon butter – about four Tbsp. butter seasoned to taste

One loin or filet of cod (about 12 oz.)

           Line a sheet pan with parchment paper. Lay the greens out on the parchment. Drizzle olive oil over the greens, and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Cut the cod into serving pieces (I had enough for each of us for supper and some left for my lunch the next day). Arrange the fish on the greens, and then place beet chunks artistically between the fish pieces. Season fish with salt and pepper. Roast at 350 for 20 minutes. Test at center of thick piece of fish to see if it flakes easily.

While fish is cooking, melt butter and mix with lemon juice to taste. The juice of a half lemon should do it for most people. Add a pinch of salt and pepper. If, like me, you can only use one heating element at a time (either the toaster oven or the hot plate but not both) you might want to make the butter sauce ahead and just give it a stir at serving.

Plate greens (they will appear shriveled and will be a bit crisp but delicious), fish, and beets. Drizzle lemon sauce over all.

Note: we always think of beets as dark red, but they do come in gold and some shades in between, with almost no difference in taste.

 

There’s tuna in my closet!

Years ago l discovered a mom-and-pop fishing business in Oregon. They don’t use nets, so the dolphins swim along next to their boat, and their tuna and/or salmon is only cooked once during the canning process (most commercial fish is cooked twice). With their product, you get pure, clean fish—no additives. But you must order by the case. No individual sales. Yep, I have a case of tuna in my closet. You can only eat tuna salad so often, so I find other ways to serve it. With summer and sandwich time coming, here are a couple of suggestions. Please don’t be afraid of the anchovies!

(The cannery always has a supply of tuna; the supply of salmon is spotty, but when you can get it, it puts all other canned salmon in the shade. Alternative: Wild Planet or other canned product that specifies “wild caught.”)

Tuna melt

For too long I resisted tuna melts when everyone else was crazy about them. But finally I experimented, adapting Ina Garten’s tuna salad to my own taste. Another of my food biases was that I didn’t much like Swiss cheese; I wanted cheddar on everything. My goodness, have I learned. Here’s how I make a tuna melt:

2 slices rye bread

Sliced Swiss cheese as needed

Tuna filling:

1 7 oz. can tuna, water-packed

A drizzle of olive oil

1/2 c. minced celery (please remember to string the celery first—something I recently realized I never taught my children

1/2 c. green onions, sliced thin

2 Tbsp. Lemon juice or to taste

Salt and pepper

1 tsp. anchovy paste (you can omit, but it won’t be as good)

Mayonnaise to bind

Drain tuna. Flake it in small bowl and drizzle with olive oil (you can use oil-packed tuna, but my closet tuna is all water-packed). Add celery, onion, salt and pepper. Separately mix about a half cup of mayonnaise with lemon juice and anchovy paste. Dress the salad, mixing thoroughly, and taste for seasoning; if too dry, add a bit more mayo cautiously—you do not want tuna soup.

Toast the bread; top it with generous helping of tuna, and cover with cheese. Make sure filling and cheese extend all the way over the edge of the toast; otherwise you’ll get charred bits of bread which detract from appearance and taste. Broil (I suggest medium setting) until cheese is bubbly and melted. Watch carefully to avoid burning.

Sprinkle with chopped parsley or minced tops from a green onion and serve immediately. You’ll need a knife and fork.

Makes two sandwiches.

Pan bagnat

Pan bagnat is a French sandwich of lightly dressed vegetables, hard-boiled egg, tuna, and anchovy served on a roll, baguette, or other artisan bread. Despite the French origins, I like to make it on a ciabatta roll (Italy’s answer to the French baguette). While some recipes call for a larger round loaf (with the top sliced as you would do if you were using the bread to serve soup or a dip), I prefer to use ciabatta rolls (Italian) and make individual sandwiches. Note: you must prepare this at least four hours before serving. Overnight is okay.

Two ciabatta rolls, split

6-7 oz. canned tuna (ether oil-packed or drizzled with oil after flaking)

1 hard-boiled egg, sliced thin

¼ seedless cucumber, sliced thin

½ small red onion, sliced thin

1 Roma tomato, sliced thin

3 anchovy fillets, or 2 tsp. anchovy paste – divided use

¼ c. sliced, black olives (optional because I do not eat olives)

For the dressing

1 garlic clove, minced

1 tsp. red wine vinegar

½ tsp. Dijon mustard

2 Tbsp. olive oil plus 1 tsp.

Salt and pepper

Split the roll and scoop out a bit of the center bread, so that it is hollow and ready for the filling. In small bowl, mix 1 tsp. olive oil and one anchovy fillet. Using a pastry brush, brush that mixture all over the inside of the roll. In the same bowl, mix garlic, vinegar, Dijon, remaining two anchovy fillets and 2 Tbsp. olive oil; if any of first mixture remains, just incorporate it.

Layer vegetables and tuna on the bottom piece of bread, usually in this order: cucumber, tomato, onion, tuna, olives, egg slices. Drizzle vinaigrette over all—you don’t want a soggy sandwich, so you may not want to use all the dressing; just save it for another use. Put top on sandwich and press hard.

Wrap the sandwich in foil and put it in a plastic bag. Weigh the sandwich down for about ten minutes—a large heavy can of vegetables will work or a saucepan of water. Theoretically you could stand there and press on it for ten minutes, but that would get tiresome.

Refrigerate at least four hours before serving. Makes two sandwiches.

 

Improvisation in the kitchen

 

Scallops Proven

Two nights recently Jordan and I found ourselves eating alone, and we got creative. One night I announced that we had too many vegetables that needed to be used. Jordan had brought some roast chicken back from her weekend at the lake, so we improvised on a stir-fry. That was bold because Christian prides himself on the Asian meals he cooks for us and we were, as it seemed, encroaching on his territory (that night he actually did join us and said it was good, though he was probably just being polite). Jordan did this for three:

Jordan’s stir-fry

2 Tbsp. canola oil

Chopped broccoli and asparagus

Shredded Brussel sprouts and carrots (for color)

Sliced onion

1 cup or more diced chicken, cooked

2/3 c. chicken broth

A good splash of soy

1 tsp. ground ginger (optional)

1 Tbsp. plus 1 tsp. corn starch dissolved in an equal amount of cold water

           Sauté vegetables until soft. Broccoli will take longer, so will onion; shredded vegetables go in last; when vegetables are crisp-tender, add chicken. Pour in broth and bring to a low boil. Stir in cornstarch mixture. Let the dish cook at a low boil—it will gradually thicken.

We ate it in soup bowls as is, but you could serve over rice.

           Another night we planned to have bay scallops Provençal—simply scallops in a wine sauce. But Central Market ordering flummoxed me again. I thought I was ordering a lb. of scallops. Come to cook dinner and I had a quarter pound. As luck would have it, Jordan had mistakenly purchased some Krab (whitefish disguised as crab) and I’d stuck it in the freezer when she brought me the canned crab I wanted for canapes. So we had Scallop/Krab Provençal. And it was good. Here's the basic recipe that I played with:

Scallops Provençal

1 lb. bay scallops (you can use sea scallops, but they are more expensive and you’ll have to cut them into quarters, so just start with the smaller ones)

Salt and pepper

1 heaping Tbsp. flour

4 Tbsp. butter (divided)

2 shallots, minced

1 garlic clove, minced

¼ c. parsley, chopped fine

½ c. dry white wine

Juice of one lemon

Heat two Tbsp. butter in skillet. Sauté scallops until brown (hint: layer them flat and do not stir for two minutes; then flip and brown the other side). Add shallots and garlic and cook briefly. Sprinkle with salt, pepper, and flour and toss to coat thoroughly. Stir in wine and half the lemon juice; cook until thickened. Stir in parsley and serve with remaining wedges of lemon. Nice with noodles, mashed potatoes, or rice.

A word about Krab: I told Jordan when it’s spelled with a K, it’s faux, but it turns out I was mistaken. However that spelling is like a red light: check ingredients carefully. On the other hand, the whitefish was good, and in this day of rising prices you might prefer it. The bay scallops were something like $10/lb.; the Krab, close to $2.50.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         

Thinking ahead to Easter

In my family, Easter dinner has always been one of the major holidays for family to get together and have a special meal. Now is not too early to start planning, and I’ve given it some thought. This year, we will have Christian’s family. Christian and I have learned to meet in the middle about what I cook and what he wants to eat but cooking for his family suggests some reconsideration on my part.

Given my absolute choice, I would cook a leg of lamb or a good spring lamb stew, but I don’t think the Burtons eat lamb. I suspect salmon is also ruled out for that a reason (beside salmon for eleven is an investment), and a beef roast just sounds too heavy to me. Chicken? Cooked how? One thing I don’t do is fry chicken—lots of restaurants do it better than I do.  Finally I landed on turkey—everybody likes it, and to avoid repeating Thanksgiving, I’d serve some sauces rather than gravy. I really had tonnato sauce in mind—a wonderful tuna sauce for cold fish or poultry. I am, however,  the only one in the house who would eat that. I am probably the only one who also envisions cold turkey. When I said sauce, Christian said, “Yes. We can have cranberry sauce.” Back to Thanksgiving. I gave him what I hope was a withering look.

I haven’t solved the sauce dilemma yet, but we pretty much have a menu. The appetizer will be love dip from Central Market because all the Burtons love it. Turkey breast with sauce (I have asked Christian to take charge of deciding between a turkey which he could fry and two breasts), potato salad (with a bit of pickle juice in the dressing, and I’ll take some out for Tom Burton and Jacob before I add onion), and marinated vegetables, which Julie, the vegetarian in the family, will love.

Because I really want to try it some time, I thought of a pavlova for dessert—those showy confections of meringue topped with fruit, but I’m afraid to experiment and I think making a pavlova ties up your oven for a long time. Maybe a Black Forest cake from the bakery.

We will also have guests for brunch that day, and I’m debating store-bought quiche vs. homemade. If I get ambitious, I’ll make and freeze early in the week—one  and serve them with fruit and rolls.

My family has been eating this marinated vegetable salad for years—a friend served it when my kids were still very young. It’s a favorite, and you can tailor it to the taste of your family, though with such diverse tastes you’re going to hit some and miss others.

Marinated vegetable salad

Green beans—yes, canned work better than fresh or frozen; cut but not French cut. For eleven people I’ll probably use two big cans. They are the backbone of the salad.

Shredded carrots

One small head of broccoli, blanched and cut into small flowerets

One small head of cauliflower, blanched and cut into small flowerets

A red onion, sliced and added in rings

Artichoke hearts – I prefer canned to frozen; if fresh, trimmed and parboiled (just go with the canned

Brussel sprouts – optional; if used, trim and blanch, cut in two if large

Mushrooms – optional, sliced, raw

Commercial vinaigrette dressing—we prefer Paul Newman’s Own Oil and Vinegar (not the Balsamic vinegar dressing); you want enough to cover all the vegetables but not so much that you end with salad soup (it has happened in this house).

The salad as I first ate it had chopped iceberg lettuce and sliced avocado. The trouble with those is that they don’t keep well; any leftover salad will be fine in the fridge for several days, but lettuce will turn soggy, and avocadoes will brown. The ideal would be to serve them on the side.

Best to make this a day ahead and let the vegetables soak up the dressing. You can add more at the last minute if needed.