Kitchen Odds and Ends--and dirty rice

Quail on a bed of dirty rice

Some odd bits of kitchen lore have come to my mind lately. With the approach of berry season, I’ve been thinking about the inevitable stains. Did you know the best way to eradicate fruit stains is to pour boiling water through them. It sounds counter-intuitive, but it works every time. Just be sure it is a fruit stain, not chocolate or something that hot water will permanently set in the fabric.

Lesson learned: never realized that lemon will bleach, but yesterday, making tuna salad, I splattered some on my blue T-shirt, which already had bacon grease splatters on it. I thought, “Just lemon juice. It will dry.” Later in the day I looked down and realized that it had faded the color where it landed. If I had wiped it with a wet paper towel, I bet I would have diluted it and everything would have been fine.

I’m working hard to avoid prepared foods these days as a matter of health. I don’t want the additives that they put into things, so I’ve been creative with two things lately: one by accident. I was making dirty rice and meant to buy Cajun seasoning at Central Market, where they offer bulk spices. But I forgot. So I got on the Web and looked up recipes. To my surprise, it had thyme, parsley, onion powder, garlic powder, and just a pinch of cayenne. I expected a basically red spice but not so. I’ve done the same thing with apple pie and pumpkin pie spices. Why add another rarely-used spice to an already over-crowded shelf?

Making a dish that called for stuffing mix, I made my own croutons seasoned with sage, salt, pepper and thyme. They were so good I almost ate them plain instead of using in the mix. Again, the idea came from the Web. Stuffing mix is nothing but croutons you add water or broth to, so why pay more for added preservatives.

Here’s the dirty rice recipe I used—and liked a lot. It’s my own version of a couple of recipes:

Dirty Rice

1-1/2 cups long-grain rice

2-3 cups chicken broth

Olive oil as needed

½ lb. ground pork

½ c. chicken livers (optional)

3 slices bacon

½ onion

2 celery stalks

1 4 oz. can chopped chiles or a jalapeño if you prefer

2 Tbsp Cajun seasoning

2 green onions, sliced.

Cook rice and set aside to cool.

If using chicken livers, pureé quickly in blender.

Cook bacon until crisp and set aside.

In bacon grease, brown ground pork. When it is browned, add onion, celery, chiles, and brown over medium heat. Lower heat if needed. Add livers and cook until all pink is gone.

 Add1 c. chicken broth to the pan and scrape to deglaze the pan. Add Cajun season and boil until chicken broth is reduced to about 2 Tbsp. (If you prepare this ahead, you may have to add more broth when reheating to serve.) Add cooled rice to mixture in the skillet and stir well.

When serving, sprinkle with sliced green onions.

 

Winter vegetables

One of the things I love about my retirement life is that I have friends of all ages. I hope they keep me current and prevent my becoming an old stodge. Last night I had a couple in their thirties that I had met during the course of daily life and come to like. They recently had a great loss, and I wanted to reach out to them, which is hard when you're acquaintances and haven't quite moved to the friendship level, though I sense that coming. So I did what I do best--I invited them to dinner.
Unfortunately, it was not one of my best dinners. I have a minute steak with anchovy butter recipe that I'm anxious to try, but they didn't strike me as steak people. I inquired if they liked fish. They did. So I did something I won't try again--I pan-fried trout filets. Only instead of the lovely filets I put in the pan, I served trout hash. I had some of the "hash" tonight--livened it up with more salt and pepper and some lemon butter--tasted much better, still looked awful. Honest, instead of figuring out what I did wrong, I'm just not going to try that again. I'll eat my trout in restaurants and stick to fish like sea bass and salmon that I know how to cook.
The rest of the meal was better, and they really liked the roasted vegetables. Here's what I did:

Heated oven to 450

Peeled and cut in large chunks:
3 beets (I bought the greens and ended up not doing anything with them)
1 large baking potato
1 sweet onion
1/2 lb. large mushrooms (stemmed and cut in half)
a good-sized bunch of baby carrots (for eco purposes you could clean and chunk whole carrots--which I should have done--baby carrots have been soak in something, chlorine I believe, which is supposed to be harmless but why eat it?)

Sprayed a baking pan and dumped the veggies in. Seasoned with salt and pepper to taste and about two Tbsp. each of dried oregano and basil. Poured vegetable oil over them (I think olive oil would be too strong here and I tried be moderate with the oil--you don't want greasy vegetables) and baked 15 minutes. Pulled the pan out to stir and added:

a handful of green beans, stemmed

Baked another 15 minutes. (Actually I baked it longer because we got too talking, but it was too much; the green beans were way overdone)

You can add or subtract any vegetables you want though root vegetables are particularly good.

Another thing I did that turned out well was to make my own ranch dip (I'm trying so hard to avoid preserved foods):

about a quarter cup Greek yogurt
about 2 tsp. mayonnaise
chopped chives (it killed me to buy them but my annual crop is hibernating right now)
onion power and garlic powder--maybe half a tsp. each

I served this with Central Market organic black pepper and sea salt potato chips. So good! This doesn't make much, so you might want to double the recipe.
 

Huevos Rancho with tomatillo sauce

My day started out hectic but ended being lazy, quiet--and cold. I intended to have breakfast ready by nine, so my Houston family could be on the road by 10:30. But as the weather grew increasingly threatening, Colin said he wanted to leave by nine. I had hesitated to bang around in the kitchen for fear of waking his family, but he told me to go ahead. I was making a new recipe I somehow couldn't wrap my head around so Colin read while I cooked--and we both modified the process as we went along.

Huevos Ranchero

Tomatillo sauce - the recipe called for prepared sauce but I found a simple recipe on the web and made my own, substituting a 4 oz. can chopped chillies for one jalapeno

Corn tortillas - recipe called for the old technique of dipping into oil in skillet briefly. Instead I sprayed a cookie sheet, then sprayed each tortilla separately. Recipe called for overlapping in the cookie sheet. In retrospect, we decided we would have put the tortillas in the oven alone briefly to make them crisper.

2 cans pinto beans, drained and rinsed

Grated cheese (I used 8 oz. sharp cheddar)

Eggs--the recipe called for fried but I didn't think my family liked fried, and we served scrambled. Then they all sat at the table and talked about how much they liked fried eggs! Scrambling was easier.

Directions:

Preheat oven to 400

Lay tortillas on cookie sheet and bake to crisp.

Mix beans and tomatillo sauce; spread over tortillas

Cover tomatillo/bean mixture with grated cheese

Bake until cheese is melted and dish is heated through.

Meantime cook eggs--we used ten eggs for six adults.

Remove tortilla/sauce/cheese base from oven and top with eggs. Pass extra tomatillo sauce if wished.

My travelers were all out the door by a little after ten. I washed dishes (lots of pans seemed involved between bacon, eggs, and baking tortilla mixture). Then spent the day at my desk, reading the newspaper and email, etc. And a long nap. Sophie, worn out by the excitement, slept all day. She enjoyed all our guests--especially the children.

 

Offfal and other awful things

The other day a neighbor and I were chatting while our grandkids played after school. Somehow we got on the subject of food, and he said that having grown up Chinese in a Jewish neighborhood, he eats a lot of things most people don't. As an example, he cited tongue, and I jumped in with my love of a tongue sandwich. Turns out his mom cooked fresh tongue, while mine cooked corned tongue, like a corned beef. A tongue sandwich is one of my standard orders at Carshon's, our local deli.
The conversation got me to thinking about the things I eat that others don't. Some accuse me of being a fussy eater--I don't like Thai and I don't like peppers from bell peppers on up the Scoville scale. I don't like the pepper flavor, let alone the hotness, ad my stomach doesn't handle either one wll. But other than that, I'm pretty easy.
As a child, I was, like many of my generation, forced to eat liver. I, too, hated it. but now I can cook it so that I really like it. The trick is to cover it on both sides with lemon juice (to cut the gaminess) and then sear it quickly, at hot heat, on both sides--rather than cooking it into shoe leather like our mothers did. Remove from pan and keep warm while you put some butter and diced onion in the skillet, scrape up the drippings, add a bit more lemon;6 serve over the liver. Honest, it's good! I also loved chopped chicken livers, fried chicken livers (okay, don't eat those much--not good for your cholesterol), and almost any kind of pate I've tasted.
When I was a kid, my mom cooked kidneys and bacon. (I think this came from my father's British background). She'd flour lamb kidneys and cook them like fried chicken, but with bacon and in the bacon grease. And then--hold on to your hats!--we ate them with ketchup. A while back I wanted to see if I still liked them, so I asked at Central Market if they could order lamb kidneys for me. They said yes, but I've have to take a whole case. I passed. But all those years ago when I was a bride, I'd find them in the store and sometimes freeze them till I had enough for a meal. I remember we also cooked a chafing dish recipe called "Deviled Kidneys" and I once made beefsteak and kidney pie-which our guests refused to eat.
The only disappointment in my dream trip to Scotland was that I saw no kidneys on the menu--I had look for them on the buffet of a full English breakfast. I did eat haggis twice--once with a chicken breast on it and once with tatties and neeps (mashed potatoes and turnips). Two things proved true: it was much better than the haggis I'd tentatively tasted over here, and it is much improved by brown gravy. I also ate mussels in Scotland for the first time and found them wonderfully fresh and much better than the ones I later tried in Texas. And in place of kidneys for breakfast, I tried blood pudding--it was okay, a bit salty, but it was simply pork blood added to oatmeal and shaped into a pattie. When I asked the host why add the blood, he shrugged and said he supposed it was to use up every bit of the animal.
Beef marrow is the trending dish at many restaurants, to my delight. I remember arguing with my brother over whose turn it was to eat the marrow out of a round steak bone. Now you can get a four-inch split bone with marrow inside both pieces. I love it. The other day my doctor asked if I eat much fat, and out of my mouth popped, "No, but I did have bone marrow the other night."
"Why," he asked, "would you want to do that?"
I love my meat rare, close to uncooked, and don't mind raw meat--carpaccio is a favorite dish, be it beef or tuna. I eat salmon sashimi with gusto, and think caviar is a divine treat.
Christian, my son-in-law, is a confessed non adventuresome eater, and he is astounded by some of the things I eat. But then, he won't eat mushrooms! I've never eaten parsnips nor sweetbreads (though my dad loved both--I guess Mom didn't get that adventuresome). I don't like seaweed with my sushi, and I've never tried brains. I've had tripe in pepper pot soup and not noticed it at all, but a roll of stuffed tripe might stymie me. I've eaten chittlins and loved them but I draw the line at a friend's favorite food of pork liver and turnip greens--or is it rice? Can't do turnip greens, though I love cooked spinach.
I think it's all in what you grow up with and are accustomed to eating. But I also think it's great fun to order new dishes!

Dinner for One, Please

In spite of the fact that I have a fairly constant stream of friends, relatives and neighbors at my dinner table and I eat out at least two evenings a week, I do dine alone three or four nights. I know some people who live alone have weird dining habits—like eat an entire pie in the afternoon and forget dinner or have cold cereal with milk for dinner. Not me.

Sometimes I raid the fridge—if I did that now, I’d find a stuffed half zucchini and the makings for ham salad plus a bit of cold, chopped brisket that would make a delicious sandwich on rye with mayo. Other times I have leftovers from a lunch or dinner out. The other day at lunch I was suddenly grabbed with a longing for the bacon cheeseburger (I rarely eat such fatty things). It was served with a Thousand Island-like sauce on it—more heaven. But it was the biggest thing I’ve seen in forever, and half of it became my Friday night supper (I love cold hamburgers).

Saturday night I wanted to fix myself a real dinner, and I decided on sea scallops and the aforementioned stuffed zucchini.

I’d seen a recipe for stuffed zucchini in Southern Living, but didn’t save it because I was confident I could stuff a squash. Pride goeth before and all that. This was different, and when I tried to recreate it I couldn’t exactly remember how it went. I ended up with a half zucchini with prepared bread crumbs (first mistake), scallions and Parmesan. Okay, but not great. My usual way is to sauté scallion and chopped celery just a bit, add to scooped out zucchini with home-made bread crumbs and cheddar cheese; stuff the zucchini shells and then sprinkle with Parmesan. More work but much better.

I love scallops but I never get them quite right—in my fear of overcooking and turning to rubber, I don’t let them get that good initial brown crust. A friend told me her grandson, a budding chef (as she described it “not even up to sous chef level yet”) told her the secret—rinse, pat dry, and let sit in the refrigerator overnight. I didn’t quite let them sit overnight but for about six hours, covered only by a paper towel—which meant the fridge smelled of scallops every time I went in it. The budding chef’s advice was to rinse and dry a second time, but I figure if they had already dried to a certain extent, why do that? I used salt and pepper and sautéed in a fairly hot and generous amount of butter and olive oil. (Butter burns; olive oil splatters and spits; the combination avoids these hazards). Result was a pretty good crust—just needed a little more patience on my part. But it was a good dinner.

There are other great things to do for dinner alone—a single loin lamb chop with something green (if you feel fancy put a chunk of goat cheese on the chop for the last few minutes); scrambled eggs—add whatever suits your fancy, from scallions and tomatoes to diced smoked salmon. One slider makes a good dinner for me; make a meatloaf and freeze it in single-size servings. Do pasta for one—tomato sauces are easy and quick.

Please! Don’t eat cold cereal. If you treat yourself to a good dinner, you’ll feel better about yourself. I admit I never go as far as to set the table with linen (I eat at my desk) but it’s a thought.

A beautiful cookbook

 Because I do some food writing, cookbooks wander across my desk from time to time. It’s rare, however, that one takes my breath away. The last one I can think of was Terry Thompson-Anderson’s Texas on a Plate. The combination of food philosophy, magnificent photography, and wonderful recipes had me spellbound. I still want to try the quail with dirty rice and coffee gravy.

But a week or so ago, I received a copy of Temple Ranch Cookbook. It’s what co-author and former publisher Ellen Temple calls a memory cookbook; it will never be on the cookbook shelf of your local bookstore.  So I’m not saying “Buy this,” but I do want you to know that it’s out there. If you ever get a chance to browse through a copy, jump to do it.

Two things I like (among many)—the book introduces us to Patrick Hieger, now a full-time chef at the ranch, but watch for his name to become well known in Texas culinary circles. Patrick is the other author, and he writes in an introduction to the cuisine section that food is the centerpiece for a visit to the ranch. It draws people together, and gives them reason to celebrate…and ways to celebrate. I love that philosophy about food, which I have always thought, from a simple dinner for two to a large celebration, binds us together. Further, he assures us his recipes are not so complex that we cannot duplicate. They are meant for the home cook. To the right is Hieger's version of eggs benedict.

The theme of Ellen Temple’s introductory essay is conservation and historical restoration. The ranch is located on the South Texas Plains, a land of chaparral and prairie. The ranch began in the 1860s as El Rancho La Gloria and has maintained its record of conservation of the land ever since. During the Temple years several historic structures have been renovated, including the Rock House, which once served as cookhouse and lodging for the shepherd to a large herd of Merino sheep. The discovery of a subterranean lime kiln nearby indicated the founding Gray family made their own mortar, plaster, whitewash and chipichil flooring. A cemetery for the Labbé family and a chimney are the only evidence of the brief residency of that family in the 1860s on a small portion of the land. Preservation of artifacts is important, but more important is the effort made by the Temple family to restore and preserve the native, rapidly vanishing Texas landscape. This landscape and its wildlife are captured in smashing photography by Chase Fountain and David Nix, with occasional photos credited to others. Cover design is by David Nix.

Having been a publisher (she published some of my Texas young-adult books), Ellen Temple knows beauty in a book, and this is one spectacular volume, from the hard case cover, without a bothersome jacket, and simple but bright endsheets to the understated, simple typography and design.

Food is the centerpiece of any cookbook, but I have room only to list a few items—chicken fried venison, veggie burger with black-eyed pea hummus (left), fried fish and dirty rice, steamed mussels in chorizo-fennel broth, pan sausage and cabbage, venison chili with jalapeño cornbread, meatloaf with mashed potatoes and cream gravy, migas, chocolate orange mousse with cinnamon shortbread cookies, Temple family mayonnaise, tartar sauce—I could go on and on but you get the drift. The recipes are a combination of ranch cookery and South Texas Hispanic influences.

Me? I think the first recipe I’ll try is grilled quail with white beans, mushrooms, and argula. Then again, I’ve always wanted to make dirty rice, and I love venison chili….choices, choices. Whatever I cook, the book will be protected from splatter in one of those cookbook shields. It’s a collector’s item, and I’m grateful to have been on the list to receive it.

Cooking up a storm

 I have been cooking up a storm lately…and loving it. During our Christmas vacation, each family provided a nightly meal, we went out a couple of times, and we collaborated on Christmas dinner. That was the only time I got to cook—I got responsibility for the turkey. I know some of the girls have cooked them, but they remain a bit squeamish. So I cleaned out the giblets (unanimous vote not to cook them), seasoned it with salt and pepper, rubbed butter under the skin, and roasted it. None of us have mastered altitude cooking but that bird was ready two hours before dinner. Ultimately though it was moist and good, if a tad cool.

Since then I’ve done cheese fondue for Jacob—using the traditional Gruyere and Emmenthaler, which are not cheap. Jacob liked it okay but not as much as last year, and I even felt it was lacking zing. Next year, I think I’ll look for a recipe for cheddar and beer. But the whole thing was fun—he liked the dipping and was horrified when I said if you lost your bread cube in the fondue you had to kiss the other person.

The next night I cooked dinner for four adults and Jacob—neighbors brought ham (they had a ton left over), and a friend brought wonderful sweet potatoes—wedges slightly caramelized but with a hint of cayenne. I fixed black-eyed peas (from scratch, thank you very much) and a spinach casserole. For appetizers, we had dry salami and smoked Gouda a friend had brought me. For dessert—defrosted cookies left over from before our trip.

Saturday night I was home alone and wanted a good dinner, so I got enough bay scallops for me and browned them. Then I gave them a Provencal treatment—olive oil, dry white wine, chopped tomatoes and chopped scallions.

Tonight a couple I’m fond of but don’t often see except in a crowd were supposed to come for supper—I promised just the three of us chickens. Turned out his ticket back to California was for today, not tomorrow. But I pulled out all the stops. Because they are gourmets and she’s an excellent cook, I was stymied and almost resorted to my dinner al fresco platter—small portions of salmon, chicken, tuna, maybe sardines, haricot verts or asparagus, cherry tomatoes, hard-boiled eggs and whatever else strikes your imagination. It always makes a showy presentation, but it’s a cold supper—and the weather is very cold tonight. Not appropriate.

I decided on a recipe I haven’t tried—herbed lamb meatballs in a tomato sauce. For me, part of the fun of entertaining is trying out new recipes, especially those I know my family won’t eat.  Made it in stages—sauce Friday night, meatballs Saturday, and put it all together Sunday night with a salad. Served in bowls topped with a glop of ricotta and a sprinkling of parsley for decoration. Find the recipe for Herbed Lamb Meatballs in the January 2014 issue of Food & Wine. For appetizer, smoked trout with crackers.

Tomorrow night is Twelfth Night and we traditionally burn a small branch of greens and make a wish for the new year. Five or six adults and Jacob. I’ll make a ground beef and noodle casserole I’ve made before. I got it from Mystery Lovers Kitchen, contributed by Riley Adams who regularly cooks for a large family, including teenage boys. I couldn’t find it in the blog archive, so I hope Riley won’t mind if I repeat it here.

Cheesy, Creamy Beef Noodle Casserole

Cook 6 oz. egg noodles and set aside

Brown 2 lbs. ground beef, with 1 chopped onion, 3 T. chopped garlic, salt and pepper, and sliced mushrooms until beef is brown. Drain

Add to beef mixture: noodles, 1 can cream of mushroom soup, 1 can cream of chicken soup, 1 can corn, drained.

Sprinkle about a cup of grated cheese on top (more or less if you wish)

Crush half a package of buttery crackers (I use Ritz) and mix with one half stick butter, melted; distribute evenly on casserole.

Cook 30 minutes, uncovered, at 350. Enjoy! I never said it’s good for your waistline.

May 2014 be a year of happy cooking for you.