Eggplant Parmesan, done a bit lighter

I’m back, finally - it’s been a while. In some ways, much has changed; in other ways, very little has changed. A few years have passed, jobs have changed (many times for me) and a few pounds have been gained by both of us. As for me, I estimate about 20 – 10 of which I needed to gain, the other 10ish of which are sort of pissing me off at the moment. My love of beer, cheese and (low fat) ice cream is strong and unwavering, and I’ve gradually become more lax on things like red meat, full fat cheese and baking up treats in the past years. Jim suffers from the same trouble as most folks: he enjoys food – maybe in slightly too large of portions at times – and is not a fan of exercise (he said a few months ago that he “hates” it – but I think he was just trying to hurt my feelings; I love exercise). I try to keep us on a good track, but we do enjoy a few tasty delights that are not the healthiest from time to time. But, we’re happy – probably the happiest we’ve been in a long time.

I try to keep us on dietary track while also engaging in some fun-loving food activity. In keeping with that attitude, Friday night’s dinner was a slightly healthier eggplant parmesan. It’s basically the same as my “indulgent” version of the dish, with the significant difference being the treatment of the eggplant. In the richer version, slices of eggplant are coated in seasoned flour, egg wash, seasoned panko breadcrumbs, and are baked (not fried, at least) until the panko is nicely toasted and the eggplant slices are cooked through. It’s not fried, so what’s the problem? It ends up being a lot of bread crumbs; the full bread coating and the egg-glue cause the dish to seem a bit heavy. It’s – pardon me - (earmuffs) fucking delicious, but not what you would call “light”. Last night, I was feeling a tad porky. So I opted for the lighter version, wherein slices of eggplant and squash are grilled before being layered into the saucy cheesy goodness that is eggplant parm. Served with whole wheat spaghetti, of course.

These veggies are from the Farmer’s Market, which is typical for us from May to November. I’m a nut about the Farmer’s Market – it’s the best thing ever. All of the vegetables and fruits are fresh and delicious, and….less expensive than the grocery store. I get beautiful heirloom tomatoes and red/yellow bell peppers for $2.50 per pound there, when I would pay at least $4-5 per pound at the grocery. Plus, the variety is great – I have never seen these types of eggplants, even at Whole Foods, and they are so much tastier than your standard globe variety. Farmer’s Market veggies win the taste test; the difference between being recently picked and hauled a short distance, versus coming from 3,000 miles away and sitting a walk-in fridge at the store for two weeks is quite apparent. I say often that the veggies from the Farmer’s Market taste more like what the vegetable is supposed to taste like (more like themselves, if that makes any sense). The flavor is more intense than what you normally buy at the grocery: they’re vegetables, plus. My wonder at this usually meets with what I interpret as an internal eye-roll from Jim (“yes, you’ve said that before. Now feed me, woman!”), but then I’ll hand him a piece of tomato that I’ve just cut and he says “Wow, that really tastes like a TOMATO!! Can I have another piece?” Uh huh. You can see from the photo above that I’m using a grill pan to “grill” the vegetables. Yes, clearly an actual grill would be preferable. If you’re going to try this recipe and have an actual grill, I fully encourage utilization of it. In our case however, there are three reasons the real grill was not used today: 1) I’m pretty sure we’re almost out of propane; 2) our kitchen is on the main floor of our townhome, and the patio with the grill is all the way in the basement (so it’s a real pain in the ass to haul our stuff all the way down there); and 3) “It’s hot outside”, says Jim (hereinafter referred to as “whiner” when the subject of outdoor heat is broached). Yes, it was 100 degrees outside today, with a heat index of 105; I can handle pretty hot weather, but Jim is not in my camp. The mere suggestion that he walk outside meets with a silent, steely eyed response.

Cheese selection is important. Most recipes would instruct use of only parmesan and mozzarella. Not in this house. Here we have a five cheese selection, with mozzarella a reluctant inclusion. Why reluctant, you ask? I generally find mozzarella to be flavorless. Yes, it melts well but so do many other cheeses that have far more flavor. If I’m going to eat something that’s basically 100% fat, it had better pack a flavor punch; melting well is not sufficient criteria for me. Just sayin’. But, Jim likes mozzarella and will argue in its defense (not a winning argument, please note), so I include it to make him happy. That’s what I do. You’ll notice in the photo that it’s the crappier bloc-version of mozzarella. Yes, I would have preferred the fresher, ball-type of cheese that comes floating in water. But, we have a couple of large expenses looming on next month’s credit card bill (badass baseball tickets for my birthday weekend –yeah!, and renewal of the maintenance plan on basically all of our appliances), so I’m feeling a bit “careful” with money of late.

The roll call of cheese, clockwise from the back: mozzarella, aged provolone (sharp, nutty, salty, packs a punch), Asiago fresco (creamy, smooth, slightly tangy, melts very well), Stravechio parmesan (it’s not Reggiano, but it’s nearly as good and about $7 cheaper per pound), and Parrano (nutty, melts well also). Cheese is important to us; even our cats have been indoctrinated.

Finally, one more note before I get to the recipe. More of a guilty admission, really. Yes, that is a jar of premade pasta sauce. I’m not proud. But it’s a weeknight and it’s expedient (I know it’s Friday and we don’t have to be up early tomorrow, but I’m beginning my cooking at 7:45 pm, and we don’t really want to eat at 10). I can’t resist the temptation to doctor it up though, as detailed in the recipe below – in fact, if you do all of those steps to a plain canned tomato product, you’ll end up with a pretty good sauce – it just requires longer cooking on the stovetop.

Grilled Eggplant Parmesan
Serves 2, with a bit of leftovers; possibly one more without leftovers


Ingredients:
3 smallish eggplant, sliced in rounds of about ½ inch thickness (enough to make 15-20 slices)
2 yellow squash – I used patty pan here, but golden zucchini or regular yellow squash will also work well (even green zucchini if you prefer)
½ of a red onion, diced
1-5 cloves of garlic - large range given because I’m a garlic nut, but I realize that not everyone loves it as I do; I probably used more like 8 last night. But I’m garlic-crazed.
5-10 cremini mushrooms, cleaned and sliced - range given because of size differential; ours last night were enormous so I used closer to 5. If they were petite I would probably go up to about 10
½ red bell pepper, chopped into small pieces
1 large tomato, half of it diced into medium pieces, the other half sliced into thin rounds
1 jar of pre-made pasta sauce
½ c red wine – I used a cabernet sauvignon
1 14 oz can of diced tomatoes (no-salt-added is preferable)
Grated cheese – any varieties you like ( I think I sufficiently beat this to death above); I used at least 2 cups, I think – use as much or as little as you like (while understanding that the “health” quotient declines dramatically as more cheese is added)
2 cups chopped herbs – I used basil and marjoram; Italian parsley also makes a nice addition, and oregano can be used in place of the marjoram
¼ chopped olives - these are Nicoise and green greek olives – use what you like, but please, nothing from a can


Method:
First, get the sauce on the stove. In the same pot that you’ll later use to boil water for pasta, heat a bit of olive oil until shimmering on medium-high or high heat (depends on your stove). Add the onion, and cook until it’s softened and turning translucent. Add about half of the chopped mushrooms; and cook until the mushroom are very soft, the onions are getting a bit of browning on their edges and some brown fond is starting form on the bottom of the pan. Add the chopped garlic, and cook for about 1 minute. Add ¼ cup of the red wine, scrapping the bottom of the pan with a wooden spoon to loosen the fond that has formed. Cook until most of the liquid has evaporated, maybe 1-2 minutes. Add the chopped tomatoes, cooking until they let out most of their juice – maybe 2-3 minutes. Add the jarred pasta sauce, can of diced tomatoes, remaining wine, remaining chopped mushrooms, chopped bell pepper and any extra sprigs of basil, marjoram and/or parsley that you have sitting around (ad them whole – the stems give flavor, too; we’ll fish those out later). Cover and allow it to come to a simmer. Give it a stir every so often and cook uncovered for a bit it it’s getting too watery.

Now, deal with the eggplants. Cut the eggplants into rounds, about ½ inch thick. Place in single layer on a plate (reserving those that won’t yet fit); sprinkle with salt and repeat a second layer of rounds if you have more waiting. Cut your squash into similarly thick rounds and place on the eggplant plate.

While the eggplant sits and the sauce cooks: shred your cheese(s), and cut the herbs and the olives. I find that wax paper is a godsend for cheese shredding. First, it’s dirt cheap; second, you don’t dirty a plate (cleaning the grater is bad enough); third, when you’re done it’s easily thrown away or, if you have extra cheese remaining, you can wrap it up into a little cigar and it’s ready for later snacking. I know that the ingredients above call for these already in their cut/shredded form, but as a time management tip – this is the place to fit this work into the process.

Grill the eggplant: as I said earlier, if you have an actual grill at your disposal, use it. Otherwise, cop out as I did and use a stovetop grill pan. “Grill” the eggplant and squash until softened and displaying “grill” marks, flipping to ensure this occurs on both sides. Working indoors, you’ll probably have to work in batches; just pile the early finishers on a plate. No need to cover them or keep them warm; soon they’ll be covered in hot tomato sauce and shoved into a hot oven.

To assemble the dish for baking: First, preheat the oven to 350. In a glass baking dish (this was
intended for 2 people, so I used an 11 x 7 dish), ladle some sauce on the bottom and spread to cover the entire area. Lay down eggplant and squash pieces in a single layer, fitting them together as much as possible (we’re aiming to have a second layer of veggies, so keep this in mind as you distribute them). Sprinkle the veggies with herbs, olives and then cheese. Dot sauce over the top of the veggie/cheese layer, and spread around a bit - but not enough to shift everything around in the pan. Put down one more layer of eggplant, hopefully using up all that remains. Cover with herbs, olives and cheese, as above, saving some of each of those ingredients for one more layer. Dot with sauce (as above) and sprinkle with additional cheese, herbs and olives. Top with sliced tomatoes and sprinkle a bit of extra cheese on top of the tomato slices. Cover with foil and bake until it’s hot and bubbly – maybe 20-25 minutes (it’s not long since everything we started with was hot but if you just used sauce right out of the jar that was cold, you might have to tack on some more time). About 10 minutes before you want to take the dish out, remove the foil. Once it’s out of the oven, give it a few minutes to sit before serving -it’s molten at this point.


During the baking, move any remaining sauce from the pot it was cooked in to another vessel (I used a 4-cup glass measuring cup). Wash out the pot and fill it with water to cook up the pasta. Use sauce that remains to stir into the cooked and drained pasta (after returning it to the pot), serving additional (heated) sauce at the diner’s option.

Hot out of the oven.

Dinner is served.

Yes, Gilda. We're also happy it's Friday night.

Things I forgot to remember

Warning: non-cooking post.

Lately, I’ve been on a mini-kick of cleaning out drawers and corners of rooms – trying to eliminate clutter and to clean up things that have been left for too long. I came across a little notebook in my nightstand drawer, one of many that I’ve started over the years as a place to write to-do lists and notes on current thoughts/plans going through my head. This notebook, like all of its forbearers and those who followed, was eventually forgotten and shoved in a drawer – clearly, my method here really works. I took a couple of minutes during my cleaning orgy to leaf through the book. Most of the pages were dated, so I was able to guess at the time period of the entries – most of this dates from fall 2005. Among the pages of to-do lists and lists of dishes that I wanted to prepare in the near future, I came across a list entitled “Today I Will”, a list of things that I should aspire to do in each day – some of them are of a more lofty nature, and some are downright utilitarian (very fitting for me). This particular list really made me think back over the past few years, and all of the ups and downs experienced in that time. Parts of 2005 were difficult, but I do recall that things seemed to be looking up by the fall – I was finally trying to be happier, and I think this list demonstrates some effort to be self aware and to attempt to change my small world from the inside out. The slight upturn that fall did not stick, and I spent the next two to three years swinging back and forth from depression to feelings of muted “happiness”. Looking at this list, I can’t help but to think that if I hadn’t shoved this notebook away and had actually given thought to these items every day, I (and those close to me) may have been able to avoid much hurt and anguish. In the past year or so, things have been much better; I finally feel as though I have a shot at really being satisfied and content. I think that giving consideration to the items on this list may help; this time I won’t forget them. Here is the list in its original order.

Today I will:

Learn something new
Take an interest in something beyond myself
Made today different than yesterday
Show love
Set a goal (small or large)
Breathe deep
Smile
Reflect
Try to understand someone who puzzles me
Recognize what I can control and what I can’t
Stay focused
Work hard, fast and efficiently
Beautify my surroundings
Take a break
Treat yourself right
Take great pleasure in simple things
Find wonder in something complex
Drink more water

Go-Lean Bars

These bars had their start as a favorite in Jim’s family, which have been ‘healthified’ by me (to the extent that you can healthify a dessert based around sugar, peanut butter and chocolate). It was always understood by Jim to be a ‘secret family recipe’. The term “Rice Crispy Treats” in Jim’s house never implied the marshmallow-butter concoction that we’re all familiar with; they had a different bar. The basic construction of their version is as follows: sugar and corn syrup heated, mixed with peanut butter and Rice Crispies, pressed into a pan, and then topped with a mixture of melted chocolate and butterscotch. They are delightful, but oh-so indulgent and completely devoid of any nutritional worth (except for protein in peanut butter, I suppose—but it’s been drowned in sugar, so that’s probably a stretch). After changing my eating habits years ago, I forbade these creatures from our home for a long time. But, Jim missed them and would speak of Rice Crispy Treats with forlorn sadness. I aim to please: I finally endeavored to improve their nutritional profile, so I could allow them to once again grace our kitchen.

If the original was actually a family recipe of his, I probably wouldn’t even be writing this entry now, as I wouldn’t want to let the cat out of the bag (I still won’t post my Grammy’s famous Clam Dip, to the apparent great relief of my paternal relatives). But here I am writing this because, as it turns out, this was not so much a ‘secret family recipe’ after all. I remember the day when he discovered this disturbing fact: we were in Jim’s parents’ kitchen and he spotted a recipe on the back of the Rice Crispy box for ‘Peanut Butter Scotcheroos’. This recipe was frighteningly similar to (read: exactly the same as) his grandmother’s top-secret recipe. “But that’s my grandmother’s secret…recipe”, he said, trailing off toward the end. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen a grown man so crushed over something not involving death or love. He still continued to make them, but with an odd combination of sorrow that they were not ‘his family’s bars’ and a conviction that somehow Kellogg’s had stolen the recipe from his grandmother, the true inventor.

So, that brings us to the present day. There’s not too much you can do to make these bars more healthful, other than making a major substitution in the type of cereal used. Rice Crispies are relatively flavorless, and therefore make a great backdrop to be drowned in sugar and peanut butter. But, they don’t provide anything in terms of nutrition. Go-Lean cereal, on the other hand, is similarly bland (it’s hardly sweetened, if at all), but provides a whopping 10 grams of fiber per 1 cup serving (go fiber!!). My first version included only Go-Lean, but I’ve recently started adding old-fashioned oats, which has met with Jim’s approval (a chocolate-smudged thumbs up). These treats are still loaded with sugar (a little less in my formulation than in the original), but at least they have something going for them since they’re high in fiber. Have a couple of these for dessert, and you’ll have the poo of your life the next morning (and as anyone who knows me very well can attest, I view the quality of that endeavor as perhaps the most important element in a great day).

I also made a few other substitutions and additions over time—not so much in the name of health, but to coax out more flavor. First, I substitute brown sugar for the white; the brown sugar provides a greater depth of flavor and you also can cut back the amount slightly because of the stronger taste. I tried substituting brown rice syrup for the original corn syrup, and did this for quite a few batches, but I’ve gone back to corn syrup because we’ve had it on hand recently—but brown rice syrup also works quite well. I also added vanilla extract (I’m a little surprised that it didn’t appear in the original) and butterscotch schnapps to the sugar mixture (butterscotch schnapps is the most wonderful thing—I’ve recently discovered it, and it’s now my secret weapon in most cookies and bars). Finally, I use natural peanut butter, knowing that Jim’s family would always use Jif/Skippy, etc. We only ‘stock’ natural peanut butter in our house, and I will not buy the ‘regular’ peanut butter, loaded with added sugars and hydrogenated oils, just for this application. Contrary to what some naysayers might claim (Cooks Illustrated comes to mind), I find that natural peanut butter works great in all baking applications—you just have to stir it well to be sure the oil is thoroughly and evenly integrated (and store it upside down).

I tried to get these bars made and the evidence cleaned up before Jim came home from work yesterday, but he came home just when I was finishing and ‘caught’ me. He walked in the front door and asked me what I was making—I gave him the chocolate-butterscotch coated spoon to lick as a clue. “Go-Lean bars! Awesome!” This time I only made a 9x9 pan, so we don’t go too overboard. I know that we could finish the 9 x 13 that I would normally make, but we certainly shouldn’t.
Go-Lean Bars

Ingredients:
½ c brown sugar
¾ c light corn syrup
¾ c smooth natural peanut butter
2 T vanilla extract
1 T butterscotch schnapps
3 – 4 c Kashi Go-Lean cereal
½ to ¾ c old fashioned oats
¾ bag semi-sweet chocolate chips (or more, if you want a thicker coating)
½ bag butterscotch chips (or more, if you want a thicker coating)

Method:
Mix brown sugar and corn syrup in large non-stick pot (you probably need something at least 4 quarts for this—I used to use our 4 qt. chef’s pan, until the nonstick coating disintegrated; recently I’ve been using a deep 14-in fry pan).

Cook over low to medium heat, stirring frequently, until the mixture loosens and bubbles just begin to come through the surface. (Note: I’m serious here—DO NOT let this mixture go too long over heat or you WILL end up with rock candy. Even if you don’t go far enough to get into rock-candy territory, if you allow the temperature of the sugars to get too high, your bars will not be tender and will instead be overly crunchy—and teeth-hurty. Take the syrup off heat when it’s loosened and just barely starting to bubble and you should be fine).

Once the sugar mixture has reached the state described above, remove the pan from heat. Stir in the vanilla and butterscotch schnapps, then the peanut butter, until well combined. Begin adding the cereal and oats, carefully folding to avoid crushing the cereal (this will take some arm strength, especially toward the end). I gave a range for the cereal amount, above—judge the final amount by eye, based on whether you want a more cereal-heavy bar, or a more gooey bar.

Once all of the cereal and oats have been incorporated, press mixture into a 9 x 9 baking dish (metal or glass; doesn’t matter). Heat the chocolate chips and butterscotch chips in a microwave safe dish for 30 seconds on high. Stir and microwave in 15-second spurts until enough of the chips are melted/melting, that you can finish the job with some vigorous stirring. Pour the chocolate mixture over the bars, spreading as evenly as possible. Keep uncovered at room temperature for a few hours until the chocolate hardens. Cover with foil and store at room temperature.

As you can see, these were a hit. We got pretty piggy with them.

Butternut Squash Bread

Fall has arrived! The weather is turning cooler and our minds have turned to meals inspired by this great new season. Jim has requested several cold weather delights recently, one of which was winter squash.

We’ve been frequenting the farmers market throughout the summer, and have eagerly awaited each Saturday morning visit. Unfortunately, October is the last month that our market is open, so we’re trying to ‘pack it in’ as much as possible in these sad few remaining weeks. Two weeks ago, we purchased a large butternut squash and an acorn squash as part of our massive farmers market haul. The acorn squash was consumed that weekend, but the butternut stuck around for a while—that’s the great thing about winter squashes: they have a long shelf life and don’t need to be used immediately.

I used the larger part of the butternut squash as a side to dinner last Saturday night, but I was left with the lower, bulbous portion. I pondered all week on the issue of where I could employ this leftover squash; I had a full week of dinners already planned, none of which would accommodate a squash side dish. Finally, last night I decided on the perfect application: a butternut squash quick bread (in the style of a zucchini or pumpkin bread.) My starting point was a recipe for zucchini bread from this book, with many alternations (some accidental, some intentional) made in order to come to this final product.

I threw this together in my last few minutes before Jim arrived home from work, so he was welcomed home to the smell of cinnamon and the promise of a tasty breakfast treat for tomorrow (treats like these are dessert to me and breakfast to him). Verdict: delicious, sweet—but not too sweet. It’s especially great with a smear of cream cheese.

As an extra note: if you have more grated squash than will be used in the bread, try topping a green salad with it—we did that last night after I made the bread and it was delightful!

Butternut Squash Bread

Ingredients:
DRY:
1 2/3 c whole-wheat pastry flour
1/3 c oat bran
1 ½ t baking powder
1 t baking soda
¼ t salt
2 t ground cinnamon
1 t ginger

WET:
¾ c buttermilk
½ c packed brown sugar
1 egg
1 egg white
2 T vanilla extract
1 t coconut extract
1 generous packed cup of grated butternut squash (probably close to 1 ¼ c)
handful of dark raisins (maybe ¼ c)

Method:
Mix dry ingredients in large bowl with fork (the wet ingredients will be added to this bowl later, so pick a bowl big enough to accommodate the finished batter). Mix the wet ingredients, through the extracts, in a smaller bowl, whisking to beat eggs and to ensure that everything is well combined. Add buttermilk mixture to dry ingredients, stir a few times to moisten. Add squash and raisins, and fold in until everything is combined. Spray a 8 x 4 loaf pan with cooking spray, pour in the batter and bake at 350 until a wooden skewer (or toothpick) comes out clean (I think it took mine about 50 minutes, but I admit that I wasn’t paying much attention to the time—it’s done when it’s done).

Let cool in pan for 15 minutes, then release onto a wire cooling rack to cool completely before cutting.

Happy Autumn!!

Chicken and Wild Rice Soup

I’ve been absent for quite a while, and the story and recipe that I am about to relate is old. I’ve been busy—painfully busy—for these past few months and, while I had a chance to scribble down my recipe soon after creating this soup, I have only now found the time to relate it here. Yes, the past few months have been a whirlwind of seemingly constant work—at various jobs—sprinkled with exercise, dinners at home, sleep…and very little else. But I’ve finally found a moment to tell the story of a woman on the edge of mental collapse, a man with a sudden flu and the pot of soup that helped us both recover.

I had a very rough time last fall—fighting a gargantuan workload and an ever-deepening depression that I seemingly could not conquer. I seem to have rebounded to an extent, although I occasionally swing back into hopelessness and despair—just now the trips are shorter in duration and perhaps lack the depth of my previous journeys. I’ve mostly been working from home since last July (except for my now once-weekly stint at the bakery), so I was here the day that Jim woke up to discover that he had somehow caught a nasty flu-like sickness. He rides the metro everyday with throngs of sick people and works in somewhat close quarters with people he often describes as “freaks”, so his acquiring a flu came as no great surprise. He was sniffly, feverish and physically beat. Despite my own misery at the time, I could not help but to feel overwhelmingly that I wanted to erase his pain, to make him better.

I find my reaction to his suffering sort of curious. He was in pain and miserable, and even though I was wallowing in my own special type of misery at the time, the desire—or need, even—to erase his pain and make him feel better took me over. It became my quest…until I realized that there’s really not much I could do for him, aside from offering pity. There’s a terrible helplessness involved when you want so badly to fix what you could never really have a hope of changing. Borne of this helplessness was my offer to make him soup…if he wanted it (when he gets sick he’s usually not much of an eater—even when he really needs some sustenance). It was really the only thing I had to offer, other than the aforementioned pity and spoken expressions of care and love. Faced with the array of soup choices that I put before him, he selected a chicken soup with wild rice.

So, in the mid-afternoon, I took a break from work to ascend to the kitchen and begin my feeble attempt at curing his sickness. This offered me a nice two-hour respite from my work, and the opportunity to fiddle about in the kitchen…but it also ensured that I’d be working while I ate dinner and far beyond. After we both finished dinner, I continued to work on my computer in the basement and he lay feet away from me on the couch, still feeling like crap. Finally, when I had enough of work for the day and could hardly see straight, I announced that I was off to bed. I walked over and gave him a kiss goodnight on the cheek (so as not to catch his foul sickness). He turned and looked up at me and said, “You always take such good care of me when I’m sick. Thank you.”. For what seemed like the first time in weeks, I cracked a smile. It was a much-needed reminder that there are some things special enough to make life worthwhile, even when it seems so tough. He’s one of them, for sure.

Chicken and Wild Rice Soup

Ingredients:
3 Boneless skinless chicken breasts
1 whole onion, peeled
10 whole cloves
1 onion, diced
3 carrots, diced
3 stalks celery, diced (reserve the tops and leaves of the celery, to flavor the stock)
1 leek, well rinsed and cut into small pieces (whites and middle whites only—no greens)
8 cloves of garlic, minced
10 cremini mushrooms, sliced
15-20 sprigs of fresh thyme
4-5 branches rosemary
2 bay leaves
dried thyme (2 t ?)—adjust to your taste*
dried rosemary (1 t ?)—adjust to your taste*
dried rubbed sage (1 t ?)—again, adjust to your taste*
Fresh Italian parsley, chopped (about ¼ c)
1 14 oz can of fire roasted diced tomatoes, drained
1 cup of white wine**
½ cup of wild rice, rinsed
2-3 boxes of low sodium chicken broth

*Read: this is an estimate; I failed to write down the amount.
**I prefer to cook with Sauvignon Blanc. I avoid Chardonnay because its oaky quality will become too concentrated in the final product. I avoid Pinot Grigio because I really can’t stand to drink it…so that bottle is going to be around for a long, long time. Sauvignon Blanc I find to be non-objectionable as a drinking wine, and it doesn’t seem to have an off impact on the flavor of the final dish.

Method:
Stud the whole peeled onion with cloves. (Both the onion and the cloves add great depth to a poultry based broth, as they simmer with the other ingredients. The same might be true for vegetable stocks or other meat based stocks, but I have not experimented with that yet.)

One onion, studded

Make a bouquet garni: with kitchen twine, tie together the celery tops, whole thyme sprigs, and rosemary branches. (You can see in the picture that this time I didn’t tie the celery tops in, and instead just added them separately—in subsequent soups, they’ve gone in my bouquet garni instead, and it’s worked well…so my photos and instructions here are not in complete agreement). This quick operation will make your life so much easier when the soup is done—the herbs release a wonderful flavor and you only have to fish out one large, obvious bundle of herbs instead of hunting down individual branches.

My bouquet garni

Brown the chicken breasts in a soup pot that’s been lightly coated in olive oil (spray if you can)—not until they’re cooked through, but at least until they’re browned on each side (this will provide some additional flavor, both to the chicken itself and to the ingredients that are subsequently cooked in the pot). When browned, remove the chicken breasts to a plate and set aside. Add onions, leeks, carrots and celery to the pot. As they start to exude their juices, scrape up any browned bits from the bottom of the pot (the “fond”, source of oh-so-much-flavor). When the veggies have softened (not browned), add the garlic and cook, stirring, until fragrant—about 1 minute. Add the dried herbs (thyme, rosemary and sage), stirring to combine. Add the white wine and allow the moisture to cook off. Add the tomatoes and chicken broth (I gave a range above—start with an amount and keep adding to achieve what ever consistency you would describe as “soup”—my soups tend to be a tad “stew-like”). Add the studded onion, bouquet garni (and the celery tops if you didn’t include them in the bouquet garni), bay leaves, salt and pepper. Nestle the chicken breasts into the mixture (and pour in any accumulated juices on the plate), bring the broth to a slow boil and cover, lowering heat to maintain the slow boil. Cook until the chicken is done

When the chicken is cooked through, remove the breasts from the soup to a clean plate. When cool enough to handle, shred the chicken into small pieces and return it to the soup. Add the wide rice, return the soup to a boil, cover, lower heat and cook until the rice is done, about 45-55 minutes. Add additional broth as necessary during the cooking to maintain the desired consistency. Before serving, remove the studded onion, bay leaves and bouquet garni (and celery tops if added separately). Serve, enjoy, heal.

Bouquet garni and onion, spent and removed from the soup.

The Good Little (Half) Greek Girl Cooks Dinner

There’s something about cooking Greek food that just feels right to me. It could be that it’s generally a healthful cuisine, filled with lean proteins and fresh vegetables. It could be that I’ve been eating and cooking this type of food for so long that I know the flavoring and ingredient options well, and it’s an easy go-to for a nice meal (Mediterranean cuisine is probably my cooking “comfort zone”, but Jim tells me that I have a “knack” for Asian). It could be the pleasure of the flavors and aromas of the food and the warm feelings that they inspire in me-- we didn’t have a ton of Greek cuisine every day growing up, but the memories of my maternal grandmother’s food (and my mother’s, on holidays and for parties—the times when she made Greek food the most) stick in my mind and figure prominently in the way I feel about this cuisine. To me, there is no better comfort food than a big serving of spanokopita (spinach and cheese pie, wrapped in phyllo dough). Ultimately, I think there’s some part of me that just feels right when I make a Greek dinner—like I’m doing what I’m meant to be doing: carrying on family traditions while making good, healthful food to share with those around me (I largely express affection through food—which is probably obvious already in this blog). And to top it off, this food is (to me at least) the ultimate in comfort cuisine. The idea of being a dutiful little (based on my comparably diminutive size) Greek “wife” always comes to my mind as I labor over a meal of this sort…hence the title of this post (I used quotes around “wife” since I am not a wife and most likely won’t be—we’ve been engaged for five and a half years now, and I think we’re going for the gold on wedding foot dragging). So, I played the good little Greek girl last Wednesday night, and prepared a dinner of chicken and veggie kabobs, with saffron and mint brown rice and tzatziki sauce to go along. The only thing that was missing was a pan of spanokopita, either to accompany the meal or as an appetizer (no time on the weeknight; plus I hate squeezing the liquid out of frozen spinach). (As a side note here: appetizers should really be called “de-appetizers”, since they really just ruin your appetite for dinner rather than making you hungry…but I digress).

I prepared the marinade and got the chicken and veggies soaking around lunchtime, so they would be good and flavorful by dinnertime (one plus to working at home—does it counter the “minus” of feeling like you should be working any time you’re at home? I don’t know yet). The early preparation of the marinade and commencement of the flavoring process would also ensure that thereafter I could work straight through the rest of the afternoon and through dinner since I wouldn’t have to do any more cooking beyond the skewering of meat and veggies and the preparation of rice (yes, I worked while I ate dinner—I work through just about every meal these days).

You can see the glistening kabobs below, both in their raw and cooked form. When the chicken and veggies emerged from the plastic bags in which they had been marinating for hours, the smell of the food was already stunning. This aroma only improved after the application of high heat. Thankfully, grilling such small pieces of meat is quick work (and easy work—for me at least—since Jim is in charge of the grill; I admit that I’m a bit afraid of the propane tank). The meal did not disappoint—the two of us finished off the nearly 1 cup of rice that I made and almost all of the chicken and veggies. Sometimes, I wonder what the hell I was thinking in my choice of dinner dishes…not so tonight. This meal was just what I craved…we will have to do this again soon.

Plenty of garlic...I love, love, love my garlic.

And yes, I did get a new camera (a lovely Pentax digital SLR; a little present to myself for surviving the month of August , which included the absolute worst birthday I’ve ever had).
Marinade for Chicken (or any other meat) and Veggie Kabobs

Juice from a 14 oz can of diced tomatoes*
2 T chopped fresh rosemary
¼ c chopped fresh mint
½ t cinnamon
1 t paprika
½ t cumin
1/8 t clove
1/8 t allspice
1/8 t ground turmeric
½ t dried marjoram (or oregano, if marjoram isn’t available)
¼ t ground red pepper

¼ balsamic vinegar
¼ c dry white wine (or sherry, or red wine)
Juice of 1 lemon
1 ½ HEADS garlic, minced or put through garlic press
Salt and pepper to taste

Combine all ingredients in small bowl. Place meat and veggies in separate dishes or gallon size zipper freezer bags (I prefer the bags, even though it’s wasteful, because the marinade is more efficiently distributed). Pour half of the marinade over the veggies and half over the protein. Seal and soak as long as you can—the veggies can go a very long time, and chicken or beef can probably soak up to 6-8 hours before the texture is compromised (if using seafood, back off of the time substantially--the seafood will start to "cook" in the acidic wine/tomato mixture and the texture will change substantially. Go no more than between half an hour to one hour with seafood).

Veggie mix suggestions: red onion, bell pepper (any color: I love the red ones), summer squash (green and yellow—for variety), mushrooms, cherry tomatoes. Hell, whatever you can skewer or roast.

* I really wanted tomato sauce, but had none—juice from a drained can of tomatoes plus a few of the tomato pieces did well enough (and the leftover tomatoes were incorporated into a veggie lasagna on Friday…yum). But if you have tomato sauce, use some of it and maybe water it down with some extra wine.


Tzatziki Sauce

½ of a long English cucumber, diced small
6 oz fat free Greek yogurt*
¼ c (+ more if you like) chopped fresh dill
1 to 1 ½ t pressed garlic

Mix all ingredients together. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Chill to meld flavors.

*This is important: Greek yogurt is pre-strained and thick. If you use “regular” yogurt, let it drain overnight in the fridge in cheesecloth (or coffee filters, my preferred material) to eliminate the excess liquid.

Saffron and Mint Brown Rice

½ of a sweet yellow onion, diced
5 cloves of garlic, minced or put through garlic press
1 c short grain brown rice, rinsed (our recent favorite—use long grain if you prefer)
¼ c dry white wine or sherry
pinch saffron threads
1 cup water
¼ c chopped mint

Sauté onion in a medium saucepan. When softened, add garlic. Meanwhile, combine wine and saffron threads in small bowl; stir to dissolve/break down saffron. When garlic is soft and fragrant, add rinsed rice. Sauté about 1 minute and then add wine/saffron mixture. Let excess moisture boil off, then add 1 cup of water. Allow mixture to reach a boil; lower heat and cover. Cook until rice is tender, adding more water if necessary. When rice is cooked, remove from heat and stir in chopped mint. Serve.

This is Why I Love Whole Foods

Or other stores like it that sell quality food. These breasts came from the SAME CHICKEN. How do I know? Well, they're attached. These are boneless skinless chicken breasts, and they are still attached in the middle. Instead of the Franken chicken breasts I'd get from another grocer, one of which would probably be double the size of the other, I have two chicken breast halves that came from the same animal. There's just something comforting about that.

The World's Most Perfect Sandwich

Toasted whole wheat bread, with generous amounts of whole grain mustard (on both slices).
Avocado--just a bit--so soft that it spreads onto the bread like butter.
Oven roasted turkey breast (Applegate Farms--no nitrates here)
Heirloom tomato, sliced thinly
Thin slices of mango
Sprouts--these are broccoli and clover
Spinach leaves

This is based on a sandwich I had last August while I was on vacation in Phoenix--the mango is so sweet against the tang of the mustard, and the avocado is so creamy and indulgent. I had the sandwich that day, and loved it so; I've been making my own version of it at home ever since. I am convinced that this is the world's most perfect sandwich (well, for me at least).

This (and a salad) was my lunch yesterday, during my morning and early afternoon of work at home. Sometimes, I crave the most simple of meals. In my view, one of the most satisfying meals is a combination of two or more of the following: soup, salad, sandwich. A tasty and filling lunch, and a nice break from the stresses of the day. Now, back to work for this morning...dreaming of lunch later in the day.

Jim Stayed Home from Work Today So I Made Him Breakfast

He stayed home today for no reason other than not wanting to go to work and to keep me semi-company as I work at home today. We see a lot less of each other lately, now that I work nights and somehow ended up with three jobs (more on that in a later post, perhaps). He mentioned late last week that he was contemplating a three day weekend; I taunted him all weekend that he would end up staying home because “the seed” had been planted in his head (speaking for myself, if I even consider calling in “sick”, that’s usually the end of it). I wanted to celebrate this three-day weekend by making him a nice breakfast before I began my work for the day (and to make up for basically challenging him to stay home—and winning). Also, I had buttermilk and turkey sausage that I wanted to use up…and a very ripe banana that I could toss in as well. So, when he came downstairs this morning I offered to make him buttermilk pancakes and maple turkey sausage. I got no arguments.

As I raided the cabinets for ingredients, the original “buttermilk pancakes” became whole-wheat banana pecan buttermilk pancakes. The use of whole wheat is pretty predictable for me; I’ll only use AP flour when it’s completely vital to the texture of the final product, when I’m desperate because I ran out of whole-wheat flour, or when I’m baking for a crowd who may not delight in the more healthful sweets that I enjoy the most. In my whole-wheat baking experience, I’ve found that whole-wheat pastry flour has a fine enough texture that it can be totally substituted for AP flour without worry in almost any application. Not so for regular stone ground whole wheat flour, however, which is usually made from hard red winter wheat rather than the white winter wheat that the WW pastry flour is made from (to my understanding, from my as-yet limited internet research and general reading). So, in creating the flour mixture for these pancakes I opted for two-thirds WW pastry flour and one-third stone ground whole wheat flour; I wanted the pancakes to have the hearty flavor of whole wheat but not the leaden texture that would likely result from the use of all stone ground WW flour.

Breakfast came together very quickly—mix the dry ingredients, mix the wet ingredients separately, combine and then begin pancake prep while the sausages cook in a skillet. Unfortunately, I do not own a griddle (one thing on the not-so-short list of kitchen items I’d love to obtain). So, the pancakes were cooked in pairs in my 10-inch omelet pan; the early finishers sat on a stoneware plate in a 200-degree oven until pancake cooking was complete.

I nibbled on a pancake with my usual custard cup of mango on the side, while Jim enjoyed a heaping plate of pancakes, coated generously in maple syrup (see previous posts for mentions of his maple-syrup-lust) and maple turkey sausage on the side. After receiving the verdict on my pancake experiment (good reviews, that’s a relief), I trudged downstairs to begin my work for the day and left him to enjoy the morning paper while he finished his breakfast. As I worked, I eventually heard the pleasant sound of the pans being washed in the sink. Thanks for cleaning up, babe:)

Whole Wheat Banana Pecan Pancakes
1 cup of whole-wheat pastry flour
½ cup of stone ground whole wheat flour
1 ½ t baking powder
½ t baking soda
½ t salt
2 ½ T granulated sugar
½ t ground cinnamon
grated fresh nutmeg to taste
1 egg
1 egg white
1 ½ c non-fat buttermilk
1 T vanilla extract
1 very ripe banana, cut into small pieces
¼ chopped pecans

Mix the dry ingredients, up to the nutmeg in a large bowl. In a smaller bowl, whisk the eggs, buttermilk and vanilla until combined. Add the wet ingredients to the dry and mix until just combined. Fold in the banana and pecans. If you’re fortunate enough to have a griddle, use it; otherwise, use a poor-man’s griddle like I did—the largest, flattest pan you own. Ladle about ½ to ¾ of a cup of batter at a time, cooking until they appear set around the edges and bubbles begin to emerge at the top. Flip and finish cooking. Keep the first batches warm in a low oven (200 degrees) until ready to eat. Dress them (or not, as I did) as you wish for serving.

Christmas in July

I hate to waste food. Since I’m somewhat of a cooking fanatic, we spend a ton of money each month on groceries (really more than I like to face up to, and I track the grocery expenditures carefully in Excel—my secret-software best friend—so I know what the exact damage is, ouch). So I pounce on any opportunity to freeze and save leftovers for future use—sometimes being a little ambitious about the likelihood that we’ll whip out a given frozen leftover in the future. (A prime example: a wheat berry stuffing that we had with chicken once; it was tasty at the time and we had a ton it leftover so I froze it, but chances are that if I’m stuffing a chicken in the future I’ll probably opt for a fresh stuffing). I made a big batch of gingerbread cookie dough during the last holiday season; this recipe makes four big balls of dough, each of which probably makes 30 to 40 cookies. I rolled and cut gingerbread shapes (not all men; sorry, guys) out of the first two balls, but got fatigued and decided to cut my cookie making short and freeze the remaining dough (cooking nut that I am, chances are—particularly during the holidays—that this cookie making probably followed 10 to 12 hours of standing in the kitchen that day making various creations; even I get tired—sometimes). So I froze the two remaining balls of dough and they’ve now been occupying space in our ridiculously cramped upstairs freezer for about six months. These could be frozen with confidence that they’d be revisited someday—we might not be salivating over leftover wheat berry stuffing, but there’s a definite appeal to having cookie dough at the ready any time.

Six months is, I think, about as long as you probably want to keep frozen cookie dough around before it’s quality and safety begins to become questionable. Knowing that the dough is in there—and that I need to use it soon—I’ve been toying with the idea of rolling out the dough to use it as a crust for a tart or pie for a few weeks. I had not settled on the flavor of the filling yet (I had a few general ideas floating around my head), but I had finally settled on making a tart. The problem with this was that I do not own a tart pan…but I do have a ton of leftover Williams-Sonoma gift cards (a great gift for a cook—keep ‘em coming guys), and I’ve eyed their tart pans before. So, on Friday evening—after my last full day of office work (as an update: I quit my job, got a job in the bakery counter at an-as yet to be named-national grocery store chain that prides itself on the sale of organic and other high-quality goods), I stopped by WS (ok—the abbreviation here—I’m not a sick and disgusting yuppie, I swear. I am, however, a really lazy typist) to obtain a tart pan (9.5 inches, nonstick). Now I’ve got the equipment, and I just need to formulate an idea.

Many of my recipe ideas come to me during my daily workout. The ultimate use for this gingerbread dough was no exception. On Saturday morning, on the Nordic Track, I was pondering the potential filling for my tart-creation. I was thinking about a vanilla pudding/custard filling (light, of course—any way I can do it, knowing me), perhaps with some fruit on top. The problem there was that I would want to use actual vanilla beans for maximum effect, but didn’t really want to go out that day and spend $7-10 on a jar of vanilla beans (yes, they’re expensive and it’s the end of the month and I can see that I’ve far exceeded my targeted grocery spending). Ok, axe the vanilla custard. Perhaps some sort of cheesecake-type filling…but what flavor? I pondered this for a bit and suddenly a thought came to me…Gingerbread Latte. Yeah, coffee and gingerbread go pretty well together, as a certain coffee chain has shown us. I’ll make a coffee flavored cheesecake-type filling (light, of course), with a tad of whipped cream on top, and call it a Gingerbread Latte Tart.

The gingerbread dough was made according to a recipe from Eating Well magazine; it is entirely whole wheat (I differed from the recipe on that point, because they call for some AP flour) and contains butter in a more reasonable proportion than most cookies. So while the crust for the tart would be composed of cookie dough, this is a less-unhealthy cookie dough than most. I won’t give the recipe here, but will direct any interested parties to the Eating Well website, where the recipe is posted (and feel free to use all whole-wheat pastry flour in place of the whole wheat + AP flour—works fine, tastes great).

I took the cookie dough out of the freezer on Friday night, after I had secured the tart pan, and allowed it to thaw in the refrigerator until the next day. On Saturday evening, before dinner, I rolled the dough out to about a quarter inch thickness and did my best job at getting the rolled dough into the tart pan in one piece. Of course, it ripped in several spots. This was an easy fix, however, because in the process of pressing the dough into the tart pan, I was able to mend any tears that had occurred. After pressing the dough into the bottom and up the sides of the pan, I lightly pricked the dough with a fork in many places (to create holes for air to escape, thereby preventing the dough from rising too much and leaving room for filling). I set the pan on a cookie sheet (for easy deposit and removal from the oven, since the pan has a removable bottom) and baked the crust at 350 degrees for about 10 to 12 minutes. I removed the crust from the oven and observed that it had puffed up more than I had wanted. To deflate the crust, I again poked it lightly with a fork in several places; the crust collapsed to an acceptable height and I allowed it to cool on top of the oven while I prepared the filling.

I have made a ton of cheesecakes over the years, so the filling was very familiar territory. I didn’t want to have to bake it for long (I wasn’t sure how much additional baking the cookie crust could take before beginning to burn), so I wanted a less loose mixture than my typical cheesecake formulation. The problem caused by my cheesecake familiarity is that I basically combined a bunch of ingredients by sight, with little or no measuring, until the mixture looked and tasted about right…so there’s no real “recipe” to impart to you. But, I’ll try to summarize and estimate in order to provide some kind of idea of what the mixture was composed of (and maybe someday make it again and actually measure this time). I softened about 12 ounces of light cream cheese while the crust baked; when it was softened adequately, I added it to my stand mixer and mixed on medium-low speed to further soften it and prepare it for the addition of sugar. I then added about ¼ c plus 2 T of white sugar and maybe about 1 T of brown sugar (by sight and taste; no measurements here) and mixed well. After this was well incorporated, I added one egg and one extra egg white and mixed until the new addition was integrated into the mixture. After eggs are added to the cheesecake mixture, the more liquidy ingredients can be introduced, so I next added about 2 T of cold brewed coffee, 2 T of 1% milk, a couple spoonfuls of light sour cream and 1 ½ T of instant espresso powder. I also added about 1 T of bourbon, because there are few things that won’t benefit from the addition of a little liquor (especially cheesecake; I routinely add rum to my vanilla cheesecake–it gives it that extra little “something”). I mixed on low speed until these ingredients were fully mixed-in, tasted the mixture for flavor (I had initially added less espresso powder and through tasting got up to the final amount quoted above—needs more coffee!!). I then poured the batter into the pre-baked tart shell and put it in a 325-degree oven. I think that it took about 20 to 30 minutes to reach the proper temperature in the center of the cheesecake mixture (160 degrees—to make sure those eggs are cooked; a digital instant read thermometer is a cook’ best friend). I removed it from the oven and allowed it to cool on the countertop until it reached room temperature. Once this state was achieved, it traveled to the refrigerator to set and chill. After a long period of chilling, I piped some freshly whipped cream on top (sparingly, around the edges, and a dot in the center to cover up the hole where my instant read thermometer was inserted). It surely looked good enough to eat.

We tasted some after dinner and the review was positive; the coffee flavor of the cheesecake complimented the gingerbread well. This made a 9.5-inch tart and there are only two of us, so leftovers remained in the fridge for a few days (which isn’t too bad, because cheesecake actually gets better when given a few days to rest). The crust softened a bit after a couple of days in the fridge, which I was told was a positive development because the initial crunch of the crust made the tart more difficult to eat. So: overall, this attempt at eliminating food waste was a success; I managed to create a new dish from leftover frozen cookie dough that I will most likely endeavor to make again. I’m filled with glee and a bit of shy pride for my creation. It’s like Christmas in July.

How “the cake” was made

A couple of weeks before his birthday party, I started pumping Jim for info on what type of cake he would like for the occasion. His usual favorite cake is a chocolate cake with white frosting. But I told him to use his imagination in formulating this request—do you want a mousse filling, for example, or a special flavored cake or frosting? (I had made a white cake with a raspberry mousse filling and whipped cream frosting for my sister’s 30th in Fall 2004, so I felt up to the task). Being a maple nut, he requested on “something maple”; we settled on a chocolate cake with a maple frosting. We agreed that the cake would be the low-fat chocolate cake that I usually make for us (which is shockingly moist and rich for its lack of butter and oil) and a full-fat frosting (it is a celebration, right? Plus, you’ve got to please the “crowd”). I had never made a maple frosting before—so let the research begin.

At first inspection, it seemed as though I would be adding maple flavor (presumably in the form of maple syrup—Jim’s favorite) to a basic vanilla frosting. The two obvious choices of base-frostings to which I could add the flavor were cream cheese frosting and a buttercream. Putting my dictatorial kitchen nature aside, it being Jim’s birthday and his choice, I offered the two alternatives: Maple Cream Cheese frosting or Maple Buttercream. Butter? Cream? Buttercream was the fast answer. Jim has probably had plenty cream cheese frosting over time, and wasn’t terribly intrigued at that suggestion anyway: I make cream cheese frosting frequently, just for kicks—it’s my guilty pleasure when I’m feeling very, very bad. No cake necessary; just Tupperware to store it in and lots of clean spoons for snacking. Having powdered sugar and cream cheese in the house at the same time is very dangerous for me—I swear the stuff just makes itself.

Anyhow…the frosting was chosen. Not only had I never made a maple frosting before, I had also never made a buttercream. Before I had the chance to perform any research, I had assumed that buttercream frosting would consist of a ton of butter and a ton of powdered sugar, with maple syrup added as a flavoring. I was wrong; this is what constitutes an “American” buttercream, but your classic bakery butter cream is far different. My research uncovered the fact that classic buttercream is actually a combination of egg yolks, hot sugar syrup and a ton of butter. Great. When we went to Costco, I bought was must have been a 10 pound bag of powdered sugar, under the assumption that half of it would be used in the frosting; I guess not. (As a side note, I did break into that bag of powdered sugar soon after to make…cream cheese frosting. But I didn’t stop there—I made peanut butter chocolate cream cheese frosting. No cake, just frosting. Finger lickin’ good.).

As an aside: I realize that recently, this blog is not sounding much like the “healthy” home chef but more like the hedonist home chef. Buttercream is an exception, not the rule; and cream cheese frosting is a guilty indulgence that I try not to fall to, but sometimes do. Our diet does not typically consist of these things—once “party” season is over and we get back to everyday cooking, the health factor of these entries is likely to improve. Now back to frosting…

There are other variations of buttercreams, some of which use egg whites, some of which use yolks only, and some of which require the separate preparation and subsequent combination of a Crème Anglaise and an Italian Meringue. I researched buttercream frosting for about a week and consulted probably 20 to 30 recipes in that time, before finally settling on the Neoclassic Maple Buttercream from Rose Levy-Barenbaum’s The Cake Bible. This is a French style Buttercream, meaning that it’s basic constituents are beaten egg yolks, with a hot sugar syrup beaten in and a ton of butter. Typically, the creation of the hot sugar syrup requires the use of a candy thermometer, because you want the sugar to reach the soft ball stage, but not to go beyond this point (which is a much easier call to make if you use a candy thermometer—the other alternative is taking a small amount of the syrup, dropping it in cold water and observing its behavior; a little too much like chem-lab for me). The beauty of this “Neoclassic” buttercream is that it starts off with syrup (the non-maple version uses corn syrup), which contains enough water so as to prevent its temperature from going above 238 degrees (the soft ball stage temperature). So, I didn’t need to run out and buy a candy thermometer or to learn how to use it. Whew, dodged that bullet.

I arrived home from work on Friday night (the party was the next day), and began the frosting preparation. You’ll notice from the photos that we were sharing some fine beers as I did my preparations. I tried to drink slowly, so as not to become too impaired. But, Jim and I often joke that I must be talented in the kitchen because cooking is just about the only thing that I can do just as well drunk as sober (knife usage aside). That being said…onto the frosting:

To start, I took a ton of butter out of the refrigerator to come to room temperature. Cold butter added to the egg and sugar base would cause butter-lumps in the frosting, which are certainly not an attractive feature. The butter would be added last, but had to be above 65 degrees when it was used to avoid this problem. It would take a while to achieve this temperature—even with it cut into small pieces—since the butter had just emerged from the refrigerator. You can see below the continuous butter temperature monitoring; I didn’t want to have the frosting base ready to accept the butter until the butter was warm enough to be used. So the full start of the frosting preparation hinged on the very slow temperature increase of a pound and a half of butter, cut into tiny bits (yes, a pound and a half; when Jim saw it, he exclaimed, “wow, that’s a lot of butter—I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much butter in one place).

Not there yet.

Still not there.

Dear god, how long does it take to soften butter?

Damn it, just a few more measly degrees to go.

Once the butter was reaching the goal-temperature, the preparation of the frosting base began. The frosting base would consist of beaten egg yolks, with a hot sugar syrup beaten in. Since the sugar syrup would be hot and ready for immediate usage once it was prepared, I began by beating the egg yolks (9 of them; yes, 9) until they were pale in color. After this was complete, they were ready to receive their syrup.

The syrup: First, I greased a measuring cup; the hot sugar syrup would be poured into this cup once it reached the proper temperature and the grease would ensure a clean release as the sugar syrup was poured into the eggs. I combined sugar and maple syrup in a saucepan, and stirred until the sugar dissolved and the mixture came to a rolling boil. As soon as this boil was achieved, the mixture was pulled and poured into the greased measuring cup.

I then gradually beat the hot syrup into the egg yolks in a steady stream, using caution not to allow the syrup to contact the beaters, and instead to go directly into the eggs. If the hot syrup contacted the beaters and got flung around the sides of the bowl, it would harden immediately and we’d have crunchy bits in our frosting (yet another unappealing feature I’d like to avoid). Once the syrup was added, the beating continued (and continued, and continued, ugh.) until the mixture was cool again. Once the egg-sugar mixture was cool, the butter could be added. I added the butter, one tiny piece at a time, as I beat the mixture. It took a long time to actually begin to look like frosting; I probably had about one-sixth of the butter left to use when the mixture finally stopped looking ultra-loose and began to take on the texture of a frosting. I was relieved when that finally occurred. Finally, the last of butter was added and the frosting was complete. Challenge met.

Now for all of that butter. Just look at that pile of butter.

Thank heavens--it finally resembles frosting.

Next, the cake assembly. I had prepared the cake layers the previous weekend and had frozen them, wrapped in plastic wrap and stored in heavy-duty freezer bags. The cake is based on a recipe from Eating Well magazine, called “Died and Went to Heaven Chocolate Cake”; for a low-fat cake, it is truly amazing. When I make it for us, I even substitute all whole-wheat pastry flour for the AP flour they call for, and the texture is always moist and lush and the taste chocolaty and rich (they have the recipe on their website: check it out, I beg you). I had taken the layers out that morning to thaw at room temperature so they’d be ready for evening usage. I unwrapped them, and began to build and frost the cake. Cake frosting is not too complicated; probably the only lesser known technique is the use of the “crumb coat”. A thin layer of frosting is applied to the entire cake, to seal in errant crumbs and the final, full layer of frosting is added on top of the crumb coat. After the full frosting layer was applied to the cake, out came the pastry bag for decoration. I’m capable enough with a pastry bag, but I haven’t practiced enough to do more fancy decorations like shells and flowers. Some day, perhaps, but not tonight. I also prepared a simple colored powdered sugar frosting to be used to write the obligatory birthday message atop the final product.

Here come the layers.

Yes, there was a wardrobe change in there--my first shirt was toast by the time I finished the frosting.

Pre-pastry bag.

Mid-pastry bag.

Done.

And there it is, with my dumb smiling ass behind it. Mission accomplished. Now to prepare everything else for the party the next day…

Tuna Salad Nicoise

At the mention of an entrée salad for dinner, Jim’s eyes perk up. I find his funny, since I normally have to force a side-salad on him as an accompaniment to dinner (sometimes I let him get away with his lame excuse for not having one—“I probably shouldn’t; I had all that cheese before dinner and I’m kind of full”—but sometimes I insist). An entrée salad at home will usually involve a healthy dose of salad greens, with a greater variety of additional vegetable toppings than I typically add to side salads, some kind of hot meat or fish and a homemade salad dressing. The entrée salads that I’ve prepared in the past have been absolute hits, so the suggestion of a Tuna Salad Nicoise for Monday night was met with immediate agreement on his part. We had a fairly heavy weekend of food and drink, and a salad seemed like a cleansing option for the end of the weekend.

I’ll begin by saying that I don’t know what exactly constitutes a Tuna Salad Nicoise. (Nicoise, as Jim and I found out after Googling it on Sunday, means “as prepared in Nice, France”—he asked me, I didn’t know and Google, as always, provided a link to a quick answer). I’ve seen them on restaurant menus, in magazines and on cooking programs, and know that they will typically contain new potatoes, cooked green beans, nicoise olives and seared tuna (among other things) atop a bed of greens with some sort of vinaigrette dressing. So, that provided a starting point, at least…but I like to have fun with these entrée salads, so we’ll likely be adding much more than that.

Our salad would include the basics that I mentioned above: lightly steamed green beans (I like my veggies crunchy, so they still resemble vegetables), new potatoes seasoned with pepper and poached on the stovetop in vegetable broth, chopped nicoise olives (the Whole Foods olive bar is the best, bar none) and tuna coated with cracked pepper and seared rare. In addition to these components, I added the following:

• Chopped jarred roasted red peppers (I love these things—they make a great addition to just about anything; as long as you’re careful to buy them packed in water, not oil; and there’s little or no prep involved. Haddon House makes a great water-packed jarred roasted red pepper. When you pull them from the jar, you get a full red pepper—not pepper pieces as I’ve experienced with Cento and other brands.)
• Cremini mushrooms poached whole in vegetable broth and then sliced (we’ve really been enjoying hot mushrooms on salads recently—they’re so juicy and the hot mushrooms add so much to a salad otherwise composed of cold inputs
• Frozen artichoke hearts, defrosted and poached in vegetable broth (noticing a theme here? I used the same pan and the same medium to cook/heat all of the ingredients that required it; as one ingredient was done cooking it was put aside and the next was up for cooking—one pan, little clean up.)
• Caramelized red and Vidalia onions (see the Pizza entry for instructions on their preparation)
• A few chopped almonds, for texture contrast (and great flavor; almonds are just divine)
• The typical salad fixings assortment of diced cucumber, carrot and bell pepper (I keep a contained of pre-prepped salad fixings in the fridge at all times, so salad preparation is always fast and easy—so this was ready and waiting for me)

I had about three quarters of a pound of tuna medallions, which I coated with cracked pepper and seared in the same pan I used to heat all of the warm inputs listed above (wiped clean first, of course, because you wouldn’t get a searing with all that liquid in the pan—we weren’t going for steamed tuna tonight). We love our tuna rare, and that’s how most of it turned out. One of the pieces was a bit smaller and I should have pulled it sooner, so it would have been at our desired level of “doneness”. Oh, well; next time. Even not-so-rare tuna tastes good…

The salad dressing was a strawberry balsamic concoction. A few months ago we had some pears in the fridge that were nearing their end, so I prepared an entrée salad using grilled chicken, sliced pears, bleu cheese and walnuts, and topped with a strawberry dressing I threw together. The salad was good. The dressing was spectacular. For this salad, I tried to repeat that glory. I halved about 6 strawberries (I quartered the larger ones), and added these to my mini food processor with about 2 T of balsamic vinegar, a bunch of fresh thyme stripped from the stems, about 6 cloves of roasted garlic (I had popped a head in the oven earlier while I prepared other items; now it was out and cool enough to handle), about a quarter cup of orange juice, about 1 t of fennel seed and about a tablespoon of whole grain mustard. I blended these ingredients in the food processor until smooth, adding extra liquid and flavoring as needed until the dressing was just right. Presto: salad dressing. The mini food processor is a great item to have for these types of preparations; it’s small, easy to handle and easy to clean (easier than the gigantic Cuisinart, at least). I gave Jim an early taste, with my usual question put forth: “do you want this on your salad?” Affirmative.

We had some toasted bread with our salads, with a spread of goat cheese on top. Goat cheese has such a pleasant tang, and is naturally lower in fat and calories than most other cheeses. We use it often in grilled cheese sandwiches (I make grilled cheese sans butter—just a spray of olive oil; this is why I usually refer to them as “hot cheese sandwiches” at home, to avoid confusion), omelets, and even atop tacos, etc. I’ve actually just about replaced my cream cheese for toast with goat cheese; it spreads almost as well, has a ton more flavor and is a little less processed than cream cheese.

This was our Memorial Day meal, the last hoorah of a three-day weekend before the inevitable and painful return to work. At least this week is only four days long…that makes it a bit easier to stomach. Now we can spend these next four days dreaming of next weekend…

Ok, so this has nothing to do with cooking

But I just had to share...

J&L in San Francisco last weekend. The most beautiful city in the US. Ahhh. Thank you to the new Dr. Frome (Andrea) for giving us a fantastic excuse to visit your lovely city:))