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.

 

Ouefs mayo - An untried recipe

 

Eggs may served with panzanella (bread salad).
The two dishes perfectly complemented each other
for a really good, light supper.

Usually, I share a recipe after I’ve tried it, but I’m reversing that today. Tonight’s supper will be the panzanella salad I reported on a couple of weeks ago and oeufs mayo, a staple in French cafes. It looks easy and foolproof—I may be jinxing myself with that statement, and Lord knows enough has gone wrong in the last few days, that I don’t need any more mishaps. But the real reason I am including it today it’s because in a Gastro Obscura newsletter, I found a fascinating history of, say it in English, eggs mayonnaise.

Before you dismiss this with, “I make deviled eggs all the time,” please know that those pale before eggs mayo. To begin with, the eggs must be cooked just so, neither too runny nor too hard. The recommendation is to bring water to a boil, immediately turn the burner to simmer, and let it cook precisely 8 minutes, 40 seconds. Then immediately plunge into an ice bath to stop the cooking. Any longer and the yolks develop that greenish-gray ring around the outside that we’ve all seen. I usually let eggs linger in that ice bath until cold and then refrigerate, but that won’t work with eggs mayo. As soon as you can handle them, peel, cut in half, but do not scrape out the yolk.

Serve the eggs, which should be almost warm, with a dollop of mayonnaise. Homemade mayo is preferable, but I plan to cheat (it’s been that kind of a day) and thin some Duke’s mayo with a bit of lemon. The thing is you “dress” the eggs—the New York Times recipe suggests capers and anchovies, which sounds good to me. The roasted red pepper strips not so much. But a sprinkling of minced green onion tops sounds both showy and delicious.

The French treasure this dish so much that there is now L’Association du sauvegard de l’oeuf mayonnaise—The Egg Mayo Protection Association, which holds an annual competition for the world championship. French bistros began serving this delicacy in the early twentieth century. The bistros were where the working-class immigrants could eat on the cheap, and eggs were inexpensive to serve. Over the years, the dish’s popularity and its price remained relatively stable, but the popularity of bistro cafes declined and many closed. In the eighties, the world went cholesterol crazy and named eggs as a principal food to be avoided. Bistros, already struggling, cut them from the menu. French food critic Claude Lebey went to battle, declaring eggs as “indispensable to cuisine as the paperclip is to the office.” So he created the association to preserve the dish.

Lebey retired in 2013, and the association languished until 2018 when his grandson, Vincent Brenot persuaded three friends to join him in taking up the cause. Brenot may have had his tongue in his cheek, but after no time at all the revived association had 500 members, everyone from professional chefs to amateurs. Today, each member gets a card entitling him to one free egg mayo serving at the restaurant of the winning chef. Of course, if the restaurant is in Australia, as it once was, that may present a problem for the average French citizen.

Not familiar with Gastro Obscura? There’s a weekly newsletter, a website offering stories, travel opportunities, courses on the world’s most the world’s most wondrous food and drink. No restaurant reviews, recipes, or interviews with chefs, and no news of current food trends. But stories like why the bagel is a food fad in Israel or how to fry crickets or, well, the saving of oeufs mayo—they’re all there. And now there’s a hardback book “loaded with incredible ingredients, food adventures, and edible wonders from around the world” (I just happen to have received a copy of the book as a birthday gift). If your interest is piqued, check out the website:  Welcome to Gastro Obscura - Gastro Obscura (atlasobscura.com)..

Composed salads

 

Cobb salad

No, composed salads are not those jellied concoctions that were popular in your grandma’s day and showed up on her table every Sunday when you were a kid. Remember? Orange Jell-O with grated carrots and pineapple chunks? Cherry Jell-O with dark cherries and—shhh! —port wine. Or jellied gazpacho. (I really liked some of those, though pistachio pudding and Cool Whip were a bit much for me.)

Composed salads are simply salads where the ingredients are laid out on a plate instead of tossed in a bowl. Traditionally when you serve them at home, you lay the ingredients out on one large platter. Diners help themselves, but we all know that self-service can get kind of messy. For a small crowd—two to four—I sometimes serve individual salads laid out in a soup plate. You can dress the individual dishes or pass a small pitcher of dressing.

The nice thing about them is you can use almost any ingredients that strike your fancy. There are, however, two basic composed salads familiar to everyone who has ever had lunch in a bistro café. Both are often served on a bed of lettuce.

 

Cobb salad

Cobb salad started in the 1930s at the Brown Derby restaurant in Hollywood. Owner Bob Cobb went prowling in his restaurant’s refrigerator for leftovers, arranged them on a plate, drizzled French dressing over the dish, and there it was. Within days it was on the menu

Traditional ingredients are cold chicken breast, often diced, tomato (cherry tomatoes are good), green beans, tiny potatoes, cheese (sometimes blue, sometimes cheddar), avocado, bacon bits, sometimes artichoke hearts.

Cobb used French dressing on his salad but use your imagination. I think a good vinaigrette is nice because it accents the flavor of the ingredients without overwhelming them. But restaurants frequently offer a choice, so feel free to use ranch, blue cheese, Italian, honey-mustard, whatever suits.

 

Salade Niçoise

Salade nicoise

Whereas Cobb features chicken, this traditional French salade is built around tuna. I like to do it with high quality canned albacore in water. Want to be really authentic? Use fresh fish.

Olives are also traditional, but I omit them because olives are on the short list of things I just don’t eat. But tiny baby potatoes, peeled, boiled, and cut in quarters, if necessary, green beans, hard-boiled eggs are all common. I sometimes add asparagus. If you like them, anchovy strips add an haute cuisine touch.

Here’s a vinaigrette that I frequently use (enough for two individual salads):

Scant quarter cup chives, or substitute tops only of scallions

2 Tbsp. red wine vinegar

1 small shallot, roughly chopped

½ tsp. honey

½ tsp. Dijon mustard

½ cup vegetable oil

2 Tbsp. olive oil

Put it all in the food processor and whirl until greens are absorbed into dressing.

When the potatoes are warm, pour a small bit of vinaigrette on them. Also dress the greens lightly that you use on the plate. Drizzle remaining dressing over the salad.

Good thing about these salads? You can fix them at the last minute without heating up the kitchen.

Stay cool. Today is supposed to be better. Who would ever have thought we’d see 101 as “better”? I do believe I’ll have to get out my flannel pjs.

 

 

 

Make it a salad summer!

 

By popular request, (that’s right, two readers!), here is the potato salad recipe I mentioned last week. Thanks to longtime friend Sue Winter for this recipe.

Lemon Potato Salad

(Serves 8)

6 medium red potatoes

1 small onion diced

½ cup celery, diced

¼ to ½ cup parsley, finely chopped

Small jar of pimiento, optional (optional here means I leave it out)

Dressing:

2 tsp. fresh lemon zest

3-4 Tbsp. lemon juice

3-4 Tbsp. salad oil

1 Tbsp. salt (don’t skimp)

¼ tsp. pepper

Boil potatoes in skins until tender. While the potatoes are boiling, make the dressing. You want to have it ready when they are done.

Potatoes are done when a fork meets just a little resistance—you don’t want them so done they crumble. Drain. Peel and dice while still warm. Add onion and pour the sauce over the still-warm potatoes and onion. Stir to coat well. Add celery, parsley, and pimiento (if using). Chill before serving.

And here’s a salad I made recently. This should be eaten the day it’s served but note that you start it way ahead of time. This is a traditional Italian summer salad.

Panzanella, or bread salad

(serves four generously)

6-8 cups artisan bread, cubed

1 heirloom tomato chopped

¼ large English cucumber

½ medium yellow or red bell pepper

1 small red onion

Dressing:

½ cup olive oil

½ cup red wine vinegar

¼ tsp. salt

Pepper to taste

¼ cup fresh basil leaves, sliced into thin ribbons

Purists object, but you can also olives, mozzarella, capers, anchovies, tuna, parsley, boiled eggs, lemon juice, and garlic, according to your taste.

The night before serving or early in the morning because you want those bread cubes to sit out on a baking sheet so they will harden and get a bit stale. Unless the crust is unusually tough, leave it on.

Slice the onion and soak in cold water to soften the taste. Chop remaining vegetables. Whisk dressing ingredients together.

Mix vegetables and bread in a large bowl. Pour the dressing over and toss to combine thoroughly.

Let the salad sit at room temperature at least half an hour—longer is better—before serving. When ready to serve, stir in the basil.

The night I served panzanella, it was an accompaniment to turkey tonnato. Simply spread tonnato sauce on sliced roast turkey, about ¼ inch slices.

Tonnato sauce

½ cup mayonnaise

¼ cup good olive oil

1 6 oz. can tuna in olive oil (do not drain it)

2 anchovy filets

1 generous Tbsp. lemon juice

Freshly ground black pepper

Mix ingredients together and slather on meat. Sprinkle with capers. This sauce is good on veal and pork as well as turkey. You could also serve it on roast vegetables, salad, even as a sandwich spread or a dip with crudities. Just be sure your guests like tuna and anchovies. It’s strong but addictive.

Happy summer eating.