Christmas Eve - Rib Roast

Well, Christmas Eve was the cooking day this year. We have decided to have Christmas morning at home with the girls, but also decided, at least for this year, to head to Indiana to visit with family around the middle of Christmas Day. I was torn between making a ham or a beef rib roast, and decided that the rib roast was the best plan. I haven’t put our relatively new oven through much of a workout since it’s arrival in the fall, mostly because we have been battling a string of illnesses in our house, and I have been completely off my game on meal preparations; mostly just phoning it in with staples that are nice, but hardly worth writing about (at least not around the holidays).

I found a great, and simple, guide for cooking a rib roast, and I'd love to meet this "Pops Fassett" some day. I've made a few roasts over the years, but am always looking for a simpler way to get the job done, and done predictably. Trust me, if you plan to make a nice standing rib roast, and you like it cooked perfectly pink with a delicious, crispy edge, this will not let you down. I kept my rub painfully simple. Just some garlic salt, kosher salt, freshly ground pepper, and a small bit of rosemary (under the ribs only). I'm not usually one to just follow directions, and I did tweak Pops' plan a tiny bit, but I didn't need to.

We invited a neighbor to join us, and it was a wonderful meal, with mashed potatoes, steamed broccoli (for which I broke down and made a cheddar cheese sauce - of course, from scratch and with real cheddar), and to make it feel like a real holiday meal, our older daughter had her first time helping her mom roll out the crescent rolls from the tube. Some things are just fine from mass producers, and tubes of bread at holiday meals sure do save a great deal of hassle. 

The Verdict

My wife insisted on a Bordeaux with our meal, and I am glad she did. The one we served had a great peppery nose, and was a great partner for our meal. The meat was tender, cooked just the way I like it (and even met with approval from our older daughter!). It had just the right bit of saltiness, and I'm glad I decided against adding garlic gloves throughout the roast tonight. Simple was just what was needed. The potatoes met with the usual approval from both little ones. I served up a bit of bleu cheese to accentuate the meat, and it was a nice addition. It was a basic meal, but throwing all modesty aside, it was almost perfectly executed. The broccoli was neither too crisp, nor too soggy. The potatoes were a tiny bit heavier than I make most of the time, but I opted for half-and-half over the usual milk, and that made a good bit of difference on all fronts.

I think sticking with a simple, traditional meal and spending the time with a favorite neighbor and my immediate family had a particularly strong appeal for me this year. I've been pained thinking about the losses so many families faced in the wake of the school shooting in CT. I've been thinking of friends who have lost loved ones entirely too soon in life lately, and others coping with serious illnesses, living each day steeped in prayer for something far more basic and precious than gifts under a tree. I've also been acutely aware of the loss in my own life, as this is the first Christmas since my mom's passing. She is sorely missed, and would have been thrilled to enjoy that rib roast with us, I am sure. 

But with whatever melancholy may be swirling about, I am joyful in sharing my younger daughter's first Christmas with her, and especially excited that our older daughter is now at the age where the wonder and excitement come with an understanding of the special-ness of the holiday. Mom would have loved to see them, so in her honor, and with the heavy hearts of so many others in my thoughts, I will hug them tighter tomorrow, relish their joy that much more, and if it is even remotely possible, I will love my family - all my family near and far - that much more on this Christmas Day. 

(Also, look for a posting in a few weeks on beef barley soup. I saved the bones and some meat, and am really looking forward to making that in January).

Wednesday is Prince Spaghetti Day...

As implied in my last post, my mind has been flashing memories of my youth at a pretty steady pace lately, with so many friends still contending with the aftermath of Sandy back east. It was not completely by happenstance that I chose Wednesday as the day to use the crock pot to make something of a "Sunday Gravy," obviously not on a Sunday, but because I so warmly remember seeing advertisements for Prince spaghetti all over the airwaves as a young boy in NJ. Granted, the commercial is supposed to be set on the north end of Boston, but somehow the imagery reminds me still, more generically, of nearly any tenement building in a large city in the northeast, and by association, the images remind me of NY, or at least the kind of hazy and faded memory of NY that I hearken back to in the nostalgic part of my brain.

More importantly, the ad reminds me of how, in my neighborhood, calling kids in for dinner was commonplace. At any given moment, you'd hear moms or siblings yelling, "Willy [yeah, I had to endure that nickname], time for supper." Or dinner. Or whatever a family called it. We'd hear it, and the game we were all playing would either realign to adjust for those called away, or would simply dissipate as the critical mass dwindled to the few who hadn't yet been called in. By urban standards, our yards were luxuriously large in the north Jersey suburbs, but really, the block where I spent most of my youth was compact enough that no one was really ever out of earshot of their own home. I suppose there is a part of me that mourns the idea that my daughters might not get to experience the call to dinner that was so familiar to me and to my friends growing up, in part because I doubt we'd ever have that luxury in our densely urban neighborhood, but more so because it seems that we have reached a point where the cell phone, the text message, or some other digital beacon has taken the place of a good set of lungs when rounding up the family these days. 

Dinner, tonight, was a joy to cook, and the prep this morning was incredibly simple. I had a bony, cheap cut of beef and a lovely, but small pork tenderloin roast defrosted. Both went into the crock pot along with canned tomatoes, tomato sauce, tomato paste, garlic, salt, pepper, and a nice dose of herbs (mostly basil, oregano, and parsley today). I copped out on cutting up an onion, and just added a bit of onion powder today, mostly out of a concern for time (I was too persnickety about getting the garlic cut up to allow me the time to hack at an onion). I let this cook all day, and since it was a rather large batch, decided I'd keep my meatballs completely separate from the process. And for those who care, I did add a tiny dash of sugar, but I was on the fence about it. I know some folks insist that it is essential, and others consider it an abomination. For me, since I'm not Italian by heritage, I have no loyalties, and just cook as the spirit moves me.

Once home from work, I made up the meatballs. I kept them simple - beef only, some breadcrumbs (wish I'd had more on hand, but I made it work), eggs, herbs, and a healthy dose of parmesan cheese added in. I baked the meatballs, and made sure I'd have plenty to freeze along with the sauce for a week or so down the road, and to make sure we'd have enough for leftovers tomorrow as well. I was craving the simplicity of spaghetti (and not some other pasta shape; I think the commercial really got to me, but it was not Prince brand), but ended up mixing in a small bit of linguine I had opened as well.

The Verdict

(I really need to take pics on the white or red plates;
 the yellow does NOT photograph well)

Writing about spaghetti and meatballs is nor really an earth-shattering idea. Yes, the meal was absolutely delicious. You just can't rush a really good sauce, and so the slow cooker does wonders for a deep, flavorful meat sauce like this. The strands of tender meat that melt in the mouth, bathed in an herb-y tomato base are so comforting, and the somewhat saltier and chewier meatballs on the side such a delightful contrast. I have not had nearly enough wine lately, and was thrilled to find a bottle of Brunello di Montalcino in our stash. It was a great treat with this particular dinner.

So, again tonight, I let my mind drift back to my youth, to the turf of my teens (and younger), to old friends, and to old ways. I recalled a lunch at my friend Phil Mastronardi's house, and how, between his mom and grandmother, I could barely walk away from the meal. I remembered several meals at the homes of friends in the neighborhood, including a fair number at Andrew Lange's house, where his mom made some traditional German meals that I have still yet to find the courage to try to recreate in my own kitchen.  I recalled playing kick the can with my buds on 4th Ave in Westwood. I found my mind walking to any number of my old schools on brisk days like today, the smell of leaves as I crunched them underfoot, and the sound of the train whistle bringing parents back from work in "The City." And again, tonight, I wished I could do more than just remember and think good thoughts. 

Still, a rich meal like this on a cold, late-autumn evening, with my family around me, makes me realize that, for them, I'm laying the foundation for the memories my daughters will have. They will have comfort in the familiarity of the mundane things we now share, and I hope each of them will get to look back on these memories fondly, in good times and bad. And I hope they will find something that can call them back as easily as the sound of "Anthony... Anthony..."

Early Thanksgiving and Sandy

This past weekend, we took delivery of a new stove. The old one still did fine as a stovetop, but the oven had given up the ghost. Even if we "fudged" the inaccurate temperature and set the beast much higher, we would not have been able to get the oven any hotter than 325 degrees, and the cost of the repair was about half the cost of a new unit, so we swallowed hard and took the hit on the budget. I unofficially broke in the oven by roasting pumpkin seeds from our jack-o-lantern (cinnamon sugar - yum), but the official first dinner came on Sunday night. It somehow seemed appropriate to make something special, something that would make good use of the larger capacity and the full stovetop (the new unit has five burners, higher potential BTU output, etc.), so I opted for a quickie version of Thanksgiving dinner. 

If I were doing a "real" Thanksgiving dinner, a whole bird would have been brined. The stuffing would have been made from scratch. The veggies would have been fresh, not frozen. And I might even have made a bread from scratch as well, rather than just buying a tub of croissants. Even the cranberry sauce would have been homemade, not from a can. Instead, the turkey was a breast only (bone in, at least), and I did a simple sage, salt, and pepper rub on it. The mashed potatoes were the real deal; I couldn't let the little one down, as she seems to have developed a fondness for daddy's mashed potatoes. But the rest was as I have described.   Thankfully, the oven worked wonderfully, and I was even able to work in the croissants for a quick warm up at the end of the turkey's cook time. And the stovetop got a reasonably good workout, even if not all burners were in action at once.

Frankly, I hadn't considered writing about the meal. But reading about so many of my friends and family back on the east coast who have endured hurricane Sandy gave me pause, and made me reconsider. As I was finishing up the last of the leftovers at dinner tonight with my wife and two girls, I realized that this pre-Thanksgiving meal was just that; something to make me reflect on what I am grateful for in my life, the comfort of the mundane, and just how fragile these things are.

The verdict

The meal is not generally what I write about when I write here, and this is certainly the case tonight. I think back this evening on my childhood and early adult years in NJ, and hearing about and seeing pictures and footage of the places in NYC and NJ that were so familiar to me has had me swimming in memories (if you will pardon the awful pun). I recall celebrating with family at my Aunt Betty's in Westwood for Thanksgiving dinners, and so many other memories of that town that I could write several books. I remember flood waters in the mid-1970s when I was living with my Uncle Billy in Kendall Park, and how the stream a good bit behind his house had turned the back yard into a mucky lake (and how I swam in it with my cousins, even though it was far from safe). When I heard about the towns of Little Ferry and Moonachie, the former where I lived for a year with my dad, and the latter where he had worked at the time, I think about how I would never have imagined that area being overrun by water. I remembered the frequent flooding in Hackensack (was it River Road?), and visiting the USS Ling submarine docked along the river there. I thought about trips to the Palisades. I thought about heading to NYC with my father to visit relatives (and his old stomping grounds near my birthplace in the Bronx), and later by myself, sometimes on the sly, sometimes not. Trips down the shore. Hours on the Parkway and the Turnpike, with friends, with family, and alone. All of this seems so very different and very distant right now as I see the images on TV, on Facebook, on the local newspaper sites from around NJ, and the like. It's been years since I called the area home, but I was shaped by my childhood there, and seeing the destruction and loss so many are facing there pains me to my core.

I know what it feels like to live with the kind of devastation my friends back east are facing now, having endured a few hurricanes myself. I will do what I can to help. Maybe slate a blood donation later this week (if I can hydrate and keep the blood pressure up), donate to a good cause, offer what I can in kind words, good thoughts, and other distant deeds - whatever is possible from halfway across the country. I am already thinking that a visit when spring or summer comes around might be nice; put some money back into the rebuilding economies along the shore that will surely need it. But as is all too often the case, when we are physically removed from a disaster, we are largely at a loss to think of how we can really help those in need. 

I thought to myself tonight that, if I had a job that allowed it and didn't have a family relying on me here, I would get myself out there and help cut up downed trees, clean up flooded basements, help tarp up some rooftops - anything to be of clear and direct help. But having a pre-Thanksgiving meal also made me realize that having a job that needs me and, more importantly, a family that needs me, is the very thing that many of my friends are realizing right now as well. As they get together to grill up the perishables with neighbors (knowing that if they don't, things will spoil), many of them will grow closer to their neighbors over a meal shared from the heart. I try to do this without a disaster at hand, but I also know the special kind of camaraderie folks can build in those moments when the lights won't work, and all sense of normalcy has been removed. I am sure someone is running an extension cord from their generator to help out a neighbor tonight, sharing what they have, and in doing so, giving thanks for what they have. Some folks are feeling the stress and strain of loss. Loss of power, sure, but also loss of property, and a loss of the sense of security and stability that ordinary life brings. Thankfully, I'm not aware of any friends grieving for lost life directly, but I am sure that they mourn the losses they hear about just as I do, and in doing so, they are thankful to have survived intact.

I hope that in a few weeks my friends and family back east will have some of the comfort returned, some of the stability, security, and normalcy back, and I sincerely hope that they will have a solid recovery to be thankful for. Tomorrow, I will enjoy a kind of special normalcy, one of trick-or-treating in the neighborhood, another comfortable meal at my table, and of course, the love I share with my family. But I will hold all of you on the east coast in my thoughts as I do these things, knowing that many of you will not have these simple joys tomorrow. I ask that all of us who weathered this storm unscathed do something above and beyond to help. Tonight, I am thankful for all I have, my safety, the four walls and a roof, passable roads, and relative peace and calm in a way I wasn't on Sunday when I first cooked our meal. In the spirit of my Quaker friends, please hold all who are suffering in the light, and please do what you can, if you can, to help ease the pain, loss, and suffering. Give someone else something to be thankful for.

Spicy Pork Empanadas

Growing up in northern New Jersey, I vividly remember seeing ads for Goya Adobo Sauce. They aired with greater frequency than I would have imagined on network TV of the 1970s and early 1980s. Sure, I also would occasionally tune into the Spanish-language UHF stations to watch a bit of "lucha libre" on weekends, but that was a rare indulgence. (No, really it was). I recall seeing cans of chipotle peppers in adobo sauce in the "ethnic foods" aisle in the grocery store. These always seemed exotic to me, a mystical thing that, as a boy, I would never have imagined having as part of a meal, never mind an item simply "on hand" in my pantry. As I think about it, few foods in the "ethnic" aisle would have seemed viably edible when I was a boy. Part of the reason, I'm sure, was simply my youth and lack of experience, but another part of it probably stemmed from living in a household that was not all that open to cultural "otherness." About the only food we bought from that aisle was the canned La Choy products, and the thought of canned Chow Mein still triggers a gag reflex deep inside for me.

I have come to appreciate a reasonably wide array of foods from other cultures over the years, and I have a fondness for empanadas, not only because they are delicious (really, I don't think I've ever had a bad one), but also because the basic concept is so appealing. Think about it; a delicious filling in a bread/pastry that is fried. Simple, easy to handle, comforting. And yes, I know that baking is an option, but if you can fry, why not? I had not made them before this evening, so the challenge for me was to keep the record perfect; I simply refused to taint the track record by making bad empanadas.

I started with some onion and oil, a bit of tomato paste, the chipotle/adobo goodness, cumin, and garlic salt, and added in small cubes of pork tenderloin and some water. I kept letting the sauce reduce, then adding a bit of water to keep the dish cooking, until finally getting the pork nice and tender (and still juicy). Once reduced down, I felt the filling needed a bit more sweetness to balance the flavors, so I added a bit of turbinado sugar. I confess that I decided on frozen "discos" for my first outing, in part because I wanted to eliminate a point of possible failure, but in larger part because I knew that, like most weeknights, my time would be limited. As a personal goal, I plan to make those from scratch next time.  Once constructed, I fried the empanadas in a mixture of canola and peanut oil until golden brown. 

The verdict

To put it simply; hot and spicy, but delicious. In addition to opening up that can of chipotle/adobo from the pantry, and my time-saving (yes, also a bit lazy) move of using the perfectly acceptable frozen discos, I served some canned pineapple on the side. The sweetness, and more importantly, the acidity really complimented the heat from the filling. 

I thought for a minute about my pantry as I was writing this and realized that, in the event of a long power outage or natural disaster, I would still be able to cobble together some rather interesting meals from the shelf-stable things I tend to keep around as a matter of course. It might be a fun challenge to cook for a few days with only things that are shelf-stable and already in the house just to see what I would end up with. I know this, for certain: it wouldn't be anything like I would have imagined walking those grocery aisles with my aunt when I was a young boy or teenager.

Fried rice and five spice chicken

Tonight, at dinner, we hosted Ben, Amanda, Lizzie, and AJ for dinner (and, of course, Ben & Amanda's daughter!). The occasion was to work on the wedding ceremony for Lizzie and AJ for which I will serve as officiant in a couple of weeks. I decided to do a simple marinade for some chicken, and popped the chicken breasts into a large Ziploc with rice wine vinegar, soy sauce, fish sauce, some organic sugar, and some Chinese five spice earlier this morning. I've fallen in love with the flavor of five spice, and have not had nearly enough opportunities to cook with it lately, so the thought that the rain would stay away and allow me to grill gave me the incentive I needed today. When I grilled the chicken, I added a dash of garlic salt, some more five spice, and a hint of cayenne to ratchet up the flavor a bit. 
I was also looking forward to making some fried rice tonight, as well. I like using sherry wine to make my fried rice, and was glad I found the last of the snow pea pods in the produce section this morning, since I enjoy those in my fried rice, too. I added in some carrot and baby corn, skipping the egg and onion I usually add tonight in favor of a quicker version with powdered ginger, garlic salt, soy sauce, peanut oil, and a hint of fish sauce. I used both brown and wild rice, and the texture of the rice itself really stood out as a result, keeping some "tooth" in the face of large pieces of vegetable.

The verdict

The chicken was great, plain and simple. Nicely cooked, and just enough of the five spice to tantalize without overpowering. I would have liked a tinge more heat, and may play with that the next time around.  The rice was also quite tasty, but I need to add the onion and some fresh ginger next time to really keep it as I usually like it. The egg would have been nice, too, but I do sometimes feel a bit odd having both chicken and egg in the same meal (yes, I'm thinking of Paul Simon's "Mother and Child Reunion" right about now). I think our guests enjoyed as well. We did have a bit of wine, but for the life of me I can't recall what it was (maybe a Cabernet/Merlot blend). It was a bit much for the meal, but whatever. A white would have been lost to the five spice and smoky grill flavor in the chicken, even if it would have been better with the rice.

The best part of the evening, however, was having a relaxed conversation about the wedding ceremony, helping Lizzie and AJ think about what they do and do not want, and (hopefully) putting them at ease about the event. I recall planning my own ceremony with my wife several years ago, and can't help but think that some five spice chicken probably would have made that planning all the better. As I recall, we met our officiant at a chain restaurant of some sort near the interstate in Indianapolis, and it wasn't nearly as fun as tonight.

Wild boar tacos

Yes, it has been another long lapse since my last post. A second daughter in the house consumes the time that I had finally carved out after dinner as our first daughter was becoming increasingly independent. Now that the younger child is about four months old, we are finally beginning to find some routines once again, and tonight's dinner was special enough to write about. I don't know if I'll be lucky enough to get another one of these done any time soon, and frankly, I'm just glad I still get to make dinner most nights. Writing about it is just a bonus, anyway.

My wife picked up an online deal for Artizone recently; not that recently, actually, but recently enough that she passed it my way before it expired. Some of the speciality shops here in Chicago would be regular haunts for us if we lived closer to them, but parking is an ordeal without the kids; with them, it's just a royal pain. Artizone let's us order from several of the shops we like (and some we have yet to try), and have the goods delivered to our home. I have been to Gepperth's Meat Market in the past, and was impressed with their shop. When I found that they had some game meats available via Artizone, well, I was giddy.

The bottom line - having the little ones around makes us appreciate having things delivered. 

The wild boar I had them bring had to wait in the fridge for a couple of days before I was able to cook it. We had a few other things on our family agenda this week, but tonight I was finally able to bring it to the table. I knew when I ordered it that I wanted to make some kind of tacos with the meat. I browned the meat with some chopped cilantro, garlic, and green onion in a smattering of olive oil. It was clearly lean meat, and I knew I'd need a bit of extra oil for this to work. Once browned, I added a splash of liquid smoke, followed by a blend of corn starch, chili powder, cayenne, ground cumin, garlic salt, kosher salt, and smoked paprika. Unfortunately, I was out of guajillo chili powder, and I think that may be on my next Artizone order (or my next trip to the spice place in Old Town). To create the sauce, I opted to use Pepsi tonight in place of water. I wanted a bit of sweetness, and the cola seemed like a nice idea. 

I chose corn tortillas for my tacos, and my wife opted for whole wheat. We topped things with more of an American spread - lettuce, sour cream, salsa, green onion, cilantro, and cheddar tonight. 

The verdict

I was quite pleased with the result. The mild game undertones were present, but with everything else happening in the flavor column, that was a welcome and expected taste. We kept things pretty simple tonight, skipping wine or beer. It was a nice end to the family time after a wonderful weekend together, and a real treat having a few minutes to write about it.  We were also glad to spend some time celebrating a milestone birthday with a neighbor last night. Our older daughter really appreciated the chocolate fountain at the shindig (I have NEVER seen her so hyper), and I was pleased to contribute some chicken marsala to the festivities. I wish I had a bit more time to write about it, but I'm sure I'll make that dish again and again. Wild boar isn't the kind of thing I'm likely to make quite as often, but after tonight's meal, I wish it was more readily available (and less expensive). If I ever move back to Florida, I'll have to befriend some boar hunters, I suppose...

Fish and Chips... and neighbors

We are really lucky people. We get to share meals from time to time with some of our fabulous neighbors, and tonight was one of those nights. I couldn't resist picking up some Atlantic cod this weekend when shopping, and knew exactly who I wanted to share it with; our neighbors Ami and Craig (and their 2 sons). I felt a little guilty popping it in the freezer on Saturday, but we knew we wouldn't be able to get it cooked before tonight, so that eased some of my guilt. And since I knew it was going to become part of a fish and chips dinner, well, that pushed all my guilt aside. Some careful defrosting can actually help keep the fish moist when it gets cooked in such high heat, I find.


I found myself on the hot seat tonight, because one of our neighbors has strong roots in the Boston area, a real New England-er who loves quality seafood, and is not afraid to wax passionately about the dearth of good seafood out here in the Midwest.  As an east coast guy, I can relate. I'm not a huge seafood fan, but when I do indulge, I'm pretty particular myself. And fish and chips is pretty often poorly done, quite frankly. As finicky as I can be about the quality of the fish, I am even more of a snob about a good batter. I pride myself on having learned some great secrets from a host of great chefs/cooks over the years, and think I do a better than average job batter-dipping a good dinner.


I had a bit of a scare early on in the cooking tonight. I try to keep folks out of the kitchen as much as possible when I deep fry, even more so now that we have a young daughter in the house (and the next one coming soon...). Unfortunately, I was less prudent with my pug, and as I did the first fry on the first batch of fries, there was a bit of a spatter that bubbled up just as he was passing under foot. I was able to get him scooped up, rinsed off, and noted no harm, although I think he thought I was a bit nuts for my dramatic reaction. After a good long "oh-my-G-d-I'm-glad-you're-OK" hug, I got back to work. Knowing that I'd be holding the fries in the oven for a few minutes while I cooked the fish, I wanted to be sure they would be as crispy as possible, so I did the twice-fried method, partially cooking them the first time at a lower temperature, draining them, cooling them, and setting them aside to finish them up later.


After the second trip to the fryer, the potatoes were seasoned and kept warm, and I turned my attention to the main attraction. I like to keep things on the simple side with my batter, and for fish and chips, I'm a big fan of using beer. In general, carbonated liquid is my rule of thumb, as I find the batter that results is substantially lighter and "puffier" than with a non-carbonated liquid. And since the beer packs a whole lot of flavor-punch on its own, I tend not to add much more to the mix. For my flour dredge, I did add a bit of a slightly-sharp Hungarian paprika, something with the slightest bit of zip right up next to the fish itself. The batter was simply flour, salt, pepper, and a nice wheat ale that had a slightly sweet flavor. Sadly, I can't seem to recall what I used, and the bottle is down in the recycle bin now. No matter; just as long as you cook with something you'd actually drink, it works out just fine. It's mostly important to avoid overpowering the food with something too strong; Guinness would be a deal-breaker on this one, for sure.


I asked that the neighbors bring some malt vinegar (something I was surprised to discover was absent from our collection of vinegars) and some cole slaw (I just love a nice cole slaw with fried fish), and they obliged my request, rounding out the meal.


The verdict

I got a pic before my wife could dig in ...
Wish the fish was in the foreground. Oh well.

I've been thinking a lot lately about how disconnected folks often are from their neighbors, from their extended families, and sometimes even from immediate family. As a nation, we have spread out, and more than ever, I think, we could do with a good dose of re-connection, finding points of commonality with those who are around us and building on them to strengthen our roots where we live in the face of such distances. Sure, we get to connect up in virtual spaces easily, and we do build and strengthen relationships in them, but there is something special about the day-in, day-out bond shared with the people who live in the neighborhood. I suppose I've ranted about this before, but it bears repeating.


So for those of you who live far from family and haven't connected up with someone in the neighborhood, I urge you to reach out and share a meal together. Share your stories, find the things that you have in common, and build some kind of relationship with them. Food is a great way to start a rich dialog about your pasts, your upbringing, your families, and the things you value and cherish. We shared some great stories tonight about "house rules" for mealtimes growing up, and that led to some great laughs, sure, but more importantly it let us know a little more about what shaped us into who we are now. As much as I like to preach about having family mealtime, it is also important to open that up once in a while and invite in the people you like. For us, living in a city, that means people we share the sidewalk with, gripe about parking and transit with, and in our case, share a deck space with, back doors just inches apart. Having had the great fortune of getting to know them over the past few years, I knew they would appreciate my effort at good seafood, and they did.


The verdict is simple; the fish was moist and tasty, and the beer added just enough flavor to make things interesting. I don't think the neighbors were at all disappointed. The fries held up great, and I managed to avoid over-salting them for a change (I've had some heavy-handed moments on that front recently). The slaw was a nice, cool, crispy addition, and the malt vinegar was spot-on.  I would love to have a kitchen where deep frying was a simpler option. Deep frying gets a bad rap; it can be done sensibly, and if you do it right, you shouldn't be eating a ton of the oil anyway. But since it is an ordeal to set up the fryer, and even bigger ordeal to tear it down, clean it up, and contend with the oil, I'll probably keep it in the "sometimes food" category for now (it certainly isn't a half-hour-to-the-table meal making fish and chips). Well, at least as long as we live here, with our reasonable but modest-sized kitchen, alongside some of the best neighbors we could ever want, I'll keep it that way.

All hail, Caesar!

I had some chicken in the fridge on grocery day, so when I saw the romaine staring at me in the produce section today, I figured dinner was a done deal; Caesar salad with grilled lemon pepper chicken and portabella mushrooms. I also recalled that we had a fair bit of garlic left around, and knowing I would use much of what was at home was a good excuse to buy more (as if I ever need an excuse to buy more garlic). My only concern was the weather. I had to hope that the rain would stay away when grilling time came. It did, thankfully.


I haven't made a Caesar dressing in a while, and unless things are already prepped, it does take a bit of time to come together. That makes it more appropriate for a weekend than a weeknight in our house. But since the chicken breasts were rather thick, I figured I had ample time to work on the dressing anyway. I stuck to the basics; egg yolk, olive oil, garlic (lots of it - we love our garlic in our house), Parmesan cheese, anchovies (I know, some folks consider this inauthentic or unnecessary, but it is one of the places where I feel an anchovy has a culinary home), Worcestershire sauce, etc. I was glad that we had an extra lemon on hand, as fresh lemon juice always beats the bottle in a dressing. I think I was overly generous with the lemon juice in the dressing tonight, but only to the point of making the dressing a bit brighter than I usually care for.


The verdict


There is a certain kind of joy in a simple salad for a meal, and making the dressing from scratch, for me, makes all the difference. We had a bit of garlic bread - nice and crispy - with our salads tonight. The mushrooms were a good addition to the standard presentation. I suppose my thoughts on there being too much lemon might be because I used it on the chicken as well as in the dressing. Maybe a simpler or less citrus-y chicken preparation might do the trick next time. 


For some, this would have been a case of garlic overload. For us, it was just right. I appreciated the gesture my wife made, leaning her very pregnant self across the table to share a garlic-y kiss with me in appreciation of the effort. 

A small victory and a basic meal

As I have mentioned here previously, we have been working to get our daughter, our three-year-old daughter, to expand her food horizons. We grew painfully tired of "Mickey Mouse Chicken" nuggets (at least they had a whole wheat breading substance on them) and whatever starch du jour tickled her fancy. We have been blessed by her affection for peas, but even on that front she was particular. Last week, we got her to try the grilled pork chops, much to my surprise and delight. And we even managed a small victory getting her to try a hot dog again (something she had and liked a while ago, but began to resist). 


Tonight, it was a hamburger. Our little one helped me make the patties, and I think that really primed her interest. We made perfect circles using a biscuit cutter, and I could not get over her simple joy in seeing the perfectly round burgers emerge after each cut. She even watched as I added some sliced cheddar as they finished up on the grill.  We also managed to get her to try (and like) some corn again. 


The verdict


There isn't really anything to say about the culinary endeavor. This was just a basic, simple meal after a supremely busy work day that started far too early. I reached the bottom of my jar of my Famous Dave's spicy pickles, finally. I'll miss them, and hope to find them again on another Costco run - at least that's where I think I found them last. I suppose I could order them online, too, but there are too many good pickles out there to feel the necessity, really.


The only real verdict here is that we are making progress, day by day, in helping our daughter grow beyond her comfort zone and try some new foods. I am finding a pleasant new challenge in balancing the things that I know my wife and I will enjoy with those that are still, well, "tame" enough for a young, sensitive palate. If a burger is a viable option, at least I know we'll have a pleasant summer. I just wonder how she'd feel about goat cheese next time?

Grilled pork chops - the season begins early.

We have been absolutely blessed with amazingly mild weather all winter long in Chicago this year, and March has been downright balmy. I was thrilled to step out onto the deck tonight and briefly share the company of our neighbor and his son. They came out to fire up their grill just after I got mine started for the first time this year. I should note that it was his son grilling up cheeseburgers, and it makes me immensely happy to see a young teen already finding a love of cooking.  After a day of problems and setbacks, I was pleased to find my grill in perfect working order, and with ample propane on hand. I decided to reach back far into my bag of cooking tricks and make a pork chop dish that has been a staple of mine for well over 2 decades.


I'm a big fan of Italian sausage made with fennel seed (I know some who prefer it without), but I've really been feeling the burden of my winter spare tire, so the leaner option - a lean pork chop with a similar flavor - made a whole lot more sense.  When making this pork dish on the grill (rather than under a broiler on on the stovetop), I prefer to pound in my seasonings on at least one side before cooking. The seasonings tend to stay in place better, which is really no small feat with fennel seeds. I added something I picked up on a whim this weekend at the grocery store; some dehydrated red onion flakes. Along with these and the fennel seeds, I topped the pork with oregano, crushed red pepper, garlic salt, and black pepper. Truly basic, but it packs a flavorful punch. I managed to find one of my silicone brushes (sans handle) in with my daughter's toys allowing me to brush on some olive oil before grilling, rather than pouring it all over the place. (I think the child and I are going to have to have a serious conversation soon about which kitchen items are for playing, and which are MINE!)


The verdict


Tender, juicy, and bursting with flavor. If you are not a fan of fennel, I promise not to make you eat this if you visit. If you are, you will LOVE this. Since this was the first grilling of the season, I served this up with some simple buttered corn (maize, if you will). Here's the amazing part; we got our daughter to try the pork, and she kept eating it! I thought that it would be either too exotic or too spicy, frankly, but there you have it. She ate a fair bit of it, too. It is especially rewarding to have her actually like something that is a favorite of mine. It didn't hurt that there was strawberry shortcake as a reward for dessert. She ended up eating some pound cake and whipped cream in the end, so I suppose I should feel even greater pride knowing that my pork chops beat out some sweetened strawberries (if not the cake and whipped cream).


I enjoyed a spot of unremarkable Malbec with this. Ever since our honeymoon in Mendoza, it is hard for me to eat grilled meats without thinking of Malbec, and it is essentially our staple wine at this point. 


Another hard day wiped away by a good meal.

Ribeye cipollata

I have to give due credit to Raffaele Gironda, my old boss at Raffaele Italian Restaurant in Southern Pines, NC, for inspiring tonight's dinner. Many years ago, before I started working for him, I was a fairly regular patron at his restaurant, and I enjoyed many great steaks (and other dishes) there. Among my favorites was a ribeye cipollata that he would serve that was, and I'm sure still is (even if it isn't on the menu,) simply fabulous. I didn't have, nor did I want particularly large cuts of ribeye for our meal tonight. It isn't a matter of price, as I'm more than willing to pay for a great (and thick) cut of quality beef. Rather, our budget is frequently tightest when it comes to time, and I do strive to cook at least a few fresh meals a week (sparing us endless leftovers at least some of the time), so that means getting it on the table in a half hour or less. 


I broke out the trusty old cast iron skillet tonight, and sauteed some onions (seasoned, and with a splash of beef stock), set them aside, quickly seared the thin cuts of ribeye, and then topped them with the onions and some mozzarella and provolone. A brief trip under the broiler, and there it was; dinner. But as much as I enjoyed it, as quick and easy as this take was, it sure didn't hold up to Raffaele's. It's hard to compare a slap-dash home version of something you love to the real deal, when the real deal was flame grilled, when the onions weren't rushed, and frankly, when someone else was doing the work. I love cooking, sure, but I also like indulging in someone else's great cooking when I can, too. What's more, my wine selection most assuredly pales in comparison to my Calabrian friend's; so much so that I (sadly) took a pass on the wine completely tonight.


The verdict


Don't get me wrong; this was a solid effort, and a really tasty dinner. I hit the onions with just a bit too much salt, but it didn't break things. I also know my audience, so I kept the cheese layer a notch below what I would have liked. We did end up finishing off a few leftover side dishes with this, so in spite of my statement about keeping things fresh, I was only partially successful on that front. 


I am glad the skillet made an appearance tonight. I've not used it nearly enough lately, and I do adore mine. It isn't easy to find one with so amazingly smooth a surface any more, so I will keep mine going as long as humanly possible. I look forward to passing it down to the next generation. I really don't think a kitchen is complete without at least one of these around.


Ultimately, I think I just want to visit NC again about now, pull up a seat at the bar, share a glass of wine with my old friend, talk about old times, and sink my teeth into the dish that inspired me. 

Sliders

Tonight was a pretty simple night for dinner. While shopping last weekend, my wife spotted some slider buns, and we decided at some point during the week that would be our dinner. I was glad to oblige her craving, as it is a rare day that I pass up a chance to eat a burger. I did want to add a bit of zing to the meal, however. Blending shredded cheddar right into the burger is an old trick, and I was glad to use it. But that still left me with a pretty basic burger. I opted to make a quick garlic-heavy mayo to spread on the buns. Simple stuff - egg yolk, oil, etc., but we love our garlic in our house, so I did not hold back one bit. Besides, my arms were stiff, and the workout with the whisk did me some good.


I made a potato salad as well. They were selling modest-sized bags of small red & white potatoes this past week, and I am glad I grabbed some. The salad, too, was pretty basic. I've been using  Hellmann's olive oil mayonnaise lately, and simply love it.* A bit of yellow mustard, some chopped up dill pickle, salt and pepper... and our old standby - crumbled bacon. I've mentioned in a previous post that we keep a bag of Costco (Kirkland) brand  crumbled, pre-cooked bacon on hand at all times. It really added a nice touch to the salad. 


The verdict


Some plain old green beans on the side made this feel more like a summer cookout than a late-winter meal. The potato salad meet my wife's most important criterion for a good side dish - "not too mayo-ey." I loved the bacon in the mix. I don't make potato salad quite the same way every time, and I definitely don't always add the bacon.  


The burgers were juicy, perfectly cooked, and I swear, they were doing something unspeakable on the bun with that garlic mayo, because I felt just a bit naughty after I ate this meal, like I was some kind of voyeur to a culinary hook-up. The garlic is still dancing around on my palate, and I look forward to that hint of goodness the rest of the night. My only regret is that I made the darn burgers just a little thicker than I would have cared for. I was counting on more - uh - shrinkage, but the meat was leaner than I'd thought it would be.


The real bonus I sometimes get at dinner time, of course, is when I get my daughter to agree to help me cook. Tonight, she helped make the burgers, and put the potatoes into the pot (before they went onto the stove, of course). We haven't gotten her to eat a burger yet, but we did convince her yesterday that hot dogs were ok, so she did have one of those tonight. At least she was adding to the summer cookout vibe. It's been a challenge getting her to branch out. I convinced her to try a potato, and I think having her "help cook" them may have been key (although bribery helps). Of course, if what I thought helped her overcome her recent fussiness with eating, we would be past that stage already...


* - I might also note that I grew up eating only Hellmann's when I did eat mayo. As a kid, that was rare. There's a story behind why, but that's another day...

Pan-seared Goat and Lamb Chops

I'm back. I was away from the blog, and for some stretch of time, my kitchen as well. I'm sure I'll find the time and the right words to write about why in the future, but for now, I will keep my focus on tonight's dinner.


I'm not usually one for keeping things all that long in the freezer, but at the end of last farmers' market season, we purchased some frozen goat chops, and I have not had the chance to cook them until today. The goat came from Mint Creek Farm, and even though I'd had it frozen this whole winter, it was still amazing. Since I had just 4 rack chops to work with, I picked up some lamb this weekend at the local Dominick's grocery store, just to be sure I kept plenty of protein on the table. Although we had some warm weather again in Chicago today, I was not ready to brave the strong winds for grilling. And frankly, I had something better in mind anyway.


I pan-seared the chops in some butter, with a simple sprinkling of kosher salt, pepper, and a bit of oregano. Once seared, I quickly sauteed a couple of larger shallots in the remaining butter and pan drippings, deglazed with the wine I was serving, reduced somewhat, and then thickened  with a bit of au jus and corn starch I had on hand. I did not smother the succulent meat, but rather served the shallots on the side. No need to bury good meat, even if the sauce is delicious.


I got lazy with the veggies, and served up some microwave-in-the-bag asparagus. I just don't feel guilty about such indulgences, as it is not easy getting dinner on the table in about 35-40 minutes on a weeknight, especially after a challenging work day. I was equally lazy, but more inventive, with my starch. I added a bit of goat cheese, crushed pistachios, and raisins to some rice (again, with just a dash of salt, pepper, and oregano). It was incredibly easy to put together, and may become a recurring side dish in our house after tonight.


The verdict


The lamb was pedestrian, I felt. Tasty, yes, but unremarkable. Even though the goat had been frozen for months, it still tasted fresher than the lamb. Had the lamb been the only thing on the table, I would have been disappointed in the meal, frankly. But the goat was succulent, perfectly cooked, tender, and my wife and I were both licking our fingers and gnawing on the last bits of meat clinging to the bones. The shallot/wine reduction was an excellent complement for both meats, but the simplicity of the meat (specifically, the goat) would have been more than acceptable. 


The rice was a huge hit, and I don't know how I managed to leave the table without a more gluttonous rendezvous with that dish. Crushing the pistachios was the right call, as it kept the consistency just right. Had I left the nuts whole, I think some of the joy would have faded in the excessive chewing. The goat cheese was a perfectly logical marriage with the main course, and blended well with the sweetness of the raisins.


The wine was fairly good, although I was hoping for a bit bigger flavor. But my choice was based in part on the fact that I'm still not indulging in much wine as my wife nears her due date for our second child; I just grabbed something that looked passable with less thought than I would like to admit. It did extremely well in the sauce, however. I've not had much Côtes-du-Rhône in recent times, but this one was in on hand and ready to go, so it fit the bill well enough.


I can't wait for the Andersonville Farmers' Market to return so I can get my hands on more goodies, and this meal reminded my of why I love it so darn much. For our family, urban life makes us appreciate the fruits of the land and the labors behind them all the more, and such markets give us a few hours a month to come at least a little closer to our food sources. It makes it feel worthwhile to spend the extra money to know that we are helping keep smaller food producers viable, and I can't wait to put more goat dishes on the table this summer as we do our part, as the consumers, to keep such organic, smaller-scale producers in the game.

Dr. Pepper Glazed Cornish Hen

Last weekend, my wife took me up on my challenge for her to adapt a brownie recipe to include Dr. Pepper. While I do most of the cooking, she does most of the baking that happens in our house. In addition to the brownie itself, she prepared a Dr. Pepper frosting to top the treat. They were delicious, and they inspired me to challenge myself to include Dr. Pepper in a main course in some way. The result; Dr. Pepper Glazed Cornish Hen.


Cornish hens are rather fun to cook. They don't take terribly long in the oven, given the smaller size, and they work quite well when cooking for just two people. I made a pair of them, so we do have one leftover for another meal. These birds seemed like a good vehicle for the experiment, as they are not especially bold on their own in terms of flavor.


I started out by reducing the Dr. Pepper a fair bit. The flavor darkened up some, but still clearly tasted like Dr. Pepper. I added a 6-ounce can of tomato paste to the reduced Dr. Pepper, and crushed in some rosemary, as well as a small bit of salt. A bit more reduction, and I was ready for the next step in the process. Well, mostly ready...


One challenge I've faced lately in my kitchen has been that many of my utensils simply cannot be found when I need them. Our daughter loves to pretend-cook, and it delights me to no end to watch her concoct her batches of "strawberry soup, blueberry soup, pancakes, eggs, and spaghetti and meatballs." In fact, I may have to try to make some kind of strawberry or blueberry soup at some point, just to see what her imaginary food would actually taste like. That said, I really missed having my silicone brush tonight. It is surely sitting in a bowl somewhere with a small heap of her toys, and it is Friday after all; there's no telling where it could have gone during this past week. I had to resort to slowly pouring the glaze over the birds.


I used about half of the glaze in this simple form and popped the hens into the oven. I also baked some potatoes while I was at it; a quick starch, and a nice plain side so the poultry could remain center-stage. Shortly before serving dinner, I returned to the remaining glaze, and, well, doctored it up. The tomato paste had managed to dilute much of the sweetness in the Dr. Pepper, so I decided to bring some of the soda flavor back to the forefront. I added some honey, a small bit of salt and pepper, a generous dash of hot sauce (Louisiana-style, for what it's worth), and some apple cider vinegar. Essentially, it became a Dr. Pepper barbecue/dipping sauce, and we did some generous dipping, I can assure you.


Again, in the interest of letting the hen truly stand as a main course, I kept the veggie simple, and opted for some green beans. In all, cook and prep time brought this meal to the table in just over an hour and a half. It made for a satisfying end of the work week and kickoff to the weekend (no pun intended; I just remembered the Super Bowl is coming up on Sunday - GO GIANTS).


The verdict


I most definitely plan to make something like this again, and while I enjoyed the Cornish hen angle, I think the Dr. Pepper flavor is better suited to a nice pork loin. Next time, I'm going that route. The Dr. Pepper flavor was clearly present, but subtle. It probably would have been lost without the addition of the salt and honey. Who knows what they put into that tasty soda; all I know is that it makes a nice base for a different take on a barbecue sauce. I wanted to just start drinking the sauce right out of the serving dish.


I also don't know that I would pair up any particular wine with this dish. Sure, there are plenty that would work, but I'm inclined to consider serving this with either a fine bourbon (on the rocks, please), or some kind of Dr. Pepper-based cocktail. If anyone has some good suggestions for mixed drinks involving Dr. Pepper, please share them.


I was pleased with my choices for rather plain veg and starch. I think I might try some snow pea pods sauteed in olive oil with garlic when I make this with pork. Maybe. But the simple baked potato was definitely a keeper. Perhaps a smattering of goat cheese with diced dried cherries or cranberries over the potato when I make the pork will be in order. We'll see.


We are looking forward to the repeat of this meal tomorrow, and I'm declaring this one a success, even though I do plan to take the idea a different direction in the future. I'm also already thinking about some other non-traditional ingredients as possible launch points. If you care to make a suggestion, I'll gladly accept the challenge, assuming it is reasonable. Part of the joy of cooking is seeing if what you imagine a dish will taste like in any way resembles the end result. This one did.

Twisted Peppers

Last night, at the request of my wife, I made stuffed peppers. I've stuffed a lot of peppers in my life, most of them rather conventionally. More recently, I've been filling them with more of a Greek-inspired blend of lamb and beef, topping them with a similarly-influenced white sauce.  I needed to find a new twist on this simple dish, and so I decided to take a whirl at filling the peppers with more of a Cajun inspired stuffing. I used the basic idea of dirty rice to pave the way.


I don't keep chicken livers around, and so my take on this dish is less than authentic, but the spirit was there. The rice was mixed with ground beef, ground mustard, cumin, 5 different kinds of pepper, a bit of breadcrumbs, and sauteed onion. I figured the bell pepper on the outside would add enough of its own flavor, so I did not add that into the mix. The peppers I softened up a bit in advance with a short bake prior to filling.


Once I tasted the rice, rich with all those peppery flavors, I knew I'd need something as a contrast. I opted to top the filled peppers with a simple mixture of tomato paste, apple cider vinegar, salt, and a dash of prepared mustard. The slightly sweet/sour combination was a good counterbalance, and I'm really glad I decided to add it.


This is simple food. Other than the rice, the prep and cook time went remarkably fast, and I was able to cobble this together in rather little time. The best thing about stuffing peppers, to my mind, is how well they hold up as leftovers. About half went into the freezer, a couple were eaten, and couple are in the fridge to make tonight a nice, simple night of reheating. 


The verdict


Make no mistake - this was a spicy little dish! Just the right amount of "burn" on the lips and front of the tongue to be interesting, but not enough to overwhelm. But that tomato paste topping was spot on! I would most likely tone this down a wee bit for company (assuming they were not into spicy foods), but for us, it was just tasty and satisfying. We had a splash of leftover wine that was still good - Bonarda, if I recall correctly - and I had a bit of that as an afterthought. Not the best thing for the dish, but it was fine. 

Bummer

Tonight, I had hoped to tap into some visceral part of my being, and I had planned on doing this by grilling in the single-digit temperatures we are "enjoying" here in Chicago tonight. I wanted to step into the cold, and smell the meat on the grill with the brace of frigid air upon my cheeks. I somehow envisioned the triggering of an ancestral memory, the call of the ages whispering through the flames, tethering me beyond the ages to Neanderthal and Cro Magnon, conjuring the ghosts of thousands of years past. I wanted to reach back to them, to sense what it might have been like after a hunt in the dead of winter, the freshly-slain beast upon a spit above a fire still mysterious, still magical. With all that has changed through human (and hominid) history, the smell of cooking meat surely hasn't, right?


Alas, someone had done me the "favor" of pushing my grill cover partway through the handle of my grill, and the recent snow melted into it. About a half gallon of water had frozen beneath that handle, and I was left with no other choice: the broiler. As much as the call of the wild surged through my bones, there was a more immediate call tonight. I spent much of the day thinking about the massive, magnificent porterhouse steaks squatting on all the real estate our dinner plates could afford, and there was no way I was putting this off until tomorrow. 


I do have to tip my hat in some small way to my dad. He did some pretty cool things under the broiler at home when I was a kid, at least I remember a few such occasions in the times when it was just the two of us living in whatever place he had rented at the time. I also need to give due credit to my Aunt Betty, who also did some rather nifty work with the broiler and a piece of beef in the many years I lived in her home. Bottom line: I know the magic you can do with the broiler, and I'm not afraid to use it!


I use a wire cooling rack and a Pyrex dish for such affairs, skipping the old-school metal broiling pans. It is a contraption I simply can't part with, since it has resulted in any number of terrific meals in my lifetime.  The steaks were so big tonight that I had to place a cookie sheet underneath the rig to catch any incidental fat dripping. The steaks received a simple application of garlic salt, pepper, and some various herbs and spices - nothing fancy, since it was the meat I was interested in.


A special treat for me tonight was having my daughter assist me in getting some baked potatoes ready for the oven after I picked her up from daycare. She helped me wash, prick, and wrap the potatoes before they went under the flames. I sincerely hope that the make-believe cooking she relishes so much -  and does constantly - stays with her as she grows up. I will gladly share the kitchen with her if her interest remains, and look forward to seeing what she comes up with, teaching her what I can, and enjoying the time together doing what I fear far too many families don't share any more; time together preparing and eating meals at home.


So, while part of the night was a bummer (the part where I didn't get to freeze my tail off at the grill), in the end, I am more than satisfied.

The verdict


You know, you really can't go wrong with a good porterhouse. My wife was told she needed to up her iron intake recently, so that was a good enough excuse for me to splurge on these puppies. I did have to teach her about the little secret of a porterhouse - the really tender meat is typically on the "small side!" She did appreciate the advice, and seemed more than content with the meal. I lured her in before dinner was done with the smell of searing beef, and that smell still lingers throughout the house as I write this. 


You also can't go wrong with a simple baked potato with a good steak, can you? Spinach: an afterthought, but a good one. I figured she'd get a good boost of iron that way.


I popped open a bottle of Bonarda to go along with the meal. It was a tad sweeter than I'd expected, but still worked pretty well, taking an appropriate back seat to the main dish as I had wished. I wanted to savor the simplicity of the steak, and I did. 


Maybe I didn't get to appreciate the cold tonight. Maybe I didn't get to bond with the ancestors. But I did get a delicious dinner and the company of my awesome family. My pug got the bonus of a scrap or two as well, and maybe in some small way I did get to reach back in time and get a small taste of what it was like. Perhaps not the part about braving the elements for survival and cooking over a flame, but the part of history where dogs became domesticated. I know if I was a pooch, I'd have come by for the smell, begged for the scraps, and stayed around for the company.

The comfort of duck fat

The house next to ours burned today. The family lost a pet. The smell of smoke is heavy in our building, maybe less perceptibly so for others who live here, but I'm particularly sensitive to the smell of a burned home. When I was in high school, the house I lived in (with my aunt, uncle, and cousins), burned. We all survived, we rebuilt, we moved forward. But fires change you when they hit you so directly, or at least I believe they do. 


I was planning on using the duck fat from the duck I made a few days ago as part of a "breakfast for dinner" this week already, and tonight was probably the perfect night to do so. I needed something comforting, and I was also hoping for some aromas that would help mask the smoke smell. The hash browns I made certainly helped, and the loose homemade sausage pretty well sealed the deal. Scrambled eggs - purely incidental. This was no fancy meal, no gourmet effort. It was about as pedestrian a cooking session as I ever have; I can cook breakfast blindfolded (or at least I'd like to believe I can). The duck fat was pure luxury, however; simply heavenly. It's amazing how a single ingredient can so easily transform a dish.


Right now, the smells of dinner are beginning to fade, and the smells from next door starting to reemerge. I have no problem saying that I'm glad it wasn't our home, because I know perfectly well what it means for the family/families enduring the pain and shock right now. I wish I could have brought them some comfort tonight. Sadly, I don't even know them. We do know many of our neighbors, which I understand is increasingly unusual in America. That's too bad for most of us, and I consider myself lucky to have such great folks living in our condo building. Just as the comfort of a good meal can help us deal with life's difficulties, the comfort of a rich social network can ease or pain or bring us relief us when we need it most (a real network - a local fabric of ties to others; I love me some Facebook, but it is no substitute for conversation in person).


The verdict


For the food, well, the sausage was tasty, but not especially great. The eggs were hardly worth mentioning (I make a nice, fluffy scrambled egg, and I'm fussy about them, but still, it's just a scrambled egg). The hash browns were heavenly, velvety, a bit smoky and certainly rich, with just enough kick from the cayenne and sharp paprika to make us take notice. 


But tonight, it was the comfort of a family I love, and a special appreciation for my aging, deaf, rather dense, but always lovable pug that made the meal meaningful. My thoughts are with those who lost so much today, and my thanks are with the Chicago Fire Department for keeping our home safe today. I would love to go and cook for one of the stations someday, just as a small token of gratitude. 


Love your family, love your pets, know your neighbors as much as you can, stay safe, and appreciate what you have, folks.

Duck

I haven't cooked duck in a while. Entirely too long, in fact. As the holidays faded, the sales began, and our local grocery store cut the price on duck pretty sharply on Christmas Eve, so I picked one up and tossed it in the freezer. It was ridiculously cheap, really. 


My past efforts cooking duck have been mixed, and prior to this evening, I'd never had crispy-skin nirvana. I combed the internet, and found a few entries from other folks that suggested a nice low and slow start followed by a blast at the end (I'd done this before) with a generous scoring of the skin (also tried before). I was willing to sacrifice juicy meat for crispy skin this time around, but was pleasantly surprised to have reasonably moist meat with the crispy skin. But the real bonus was the glaze. I did an adaptation that ended up using honey, soy sauce, liquid smoke (yes, I'm a fanatical user of the stuff), hot sauce, and a hint of cinnamon and garlic salt. 


The duck cooked for about 4 hours, with frequent flipping to keep the fat draining. I have saved that fat, and am looking forward to making a special potato dish with it in the near future. Once it was nearly done, the final 15 minutes saw the heat upped (first to 425 to get a golden and crispy skin, and then a flash for about 5 minutes under the broiler with the reduced glaze generously applied). 


I served this with a wild/brown rice mix sauteed with garlic, olive oil, a hint of salt/pepper, and a fair helping of peas. I should note that I put in over 6 cloves of garlic, and I note this because a friend of mine noted on Facebook recently that she felt this was an excessive quantity of garlic. I did it to prove a point, I suppose, but mostly because the rice needed that much to taste good, plain and simple! 


My wife brought home a bottle of NoCo Pinot Noir (thanks to the folks at In Fine Spirits for the recommendation). Nice. Simple. Dinner.


The Verdict


My wife's quote was, I believe, "I have afterglow from this dinner." I agree. The wine was the perfect pairing. The rice was the right texture and great complement for the duck. And the duck - wow. I wish I had another on hand. There is enough around for dinner tomorrow, probably not as good, but who cares! In the dead of winter, a bit of a tad-gamier taste is just the thing to break up the monotony. 

Pork and Pierogi

Pork loin chops are frankly just a bit too lean for any kind of good slow-cooking, but are wonderful for a good breading and pan-frying. Tonight, I wanted to make them in a way I hadn't tried before, so I figured a good, logical way to make this work was to bring some mustard to the plate. I wanted it to permeate the dinner, so I figured why not add it at the source and not after the fact, and incorporate it into the breading process. 
I'm not much for sharing a "recipe" (perhaps because I generally don't look at them much), but this one is simple enough to share at least the basics, and worth me doing so in case I decide to give it another whirl. 


I brought out the basics - the flour, eggs, and breadcrumbs - and while I usually add flavor into the dry stations, I decided this time to add a bit to all 3. I pretty well always add a bit of salt and ground pepper to the flour. Done. And I always keep unseasoned breadcrumbs around. You never know what you are going to cook, right? So why keep only some cardboard tube of Italian seasoned stuff on hand? I mean, the seasonings are likely old, and someone else's idea of "good," to boot. I added some ground mustard, ground cumin, and onion powder to mine tonight, and that combination would have failed in the face of basil and who knows what else in the usual mix. To the egg, I added some prepared spicy brown mustard (although I'd considered a spicy Dijon I had on hand, too). 


The loin chops were a bit thick on the cut (typically we pick up the big loin and I cut my own at home; this time I was relying on the local grocery store), so I butterflied them, gave them a light pounding, breading, and bath in the oil until "light-golden-brown-and-delicious." It is important to watch the heat with such lean meat; too much, and you get brown and under-cook, too little, and you may get a juicy middle with a charred outside. I suppose I mention this for those who fear frying foods. Most of the oil stays behind if you are doing it right, folks - don't fear the vegetable oil!


I confess that part of the motivation for cooking the pork was to have something (other than kielbasa) to go along with the frozen pierogi I had picked up last week. I'm a sucker for those things, and have long considered them quick comfort food. This batch was filled with a spinach and feta blend, something a bit unusual, but really pretty tasty. I think I may need to step up my game (on a night when I have more time for prep work) and make some from scratch, but time is what it is. I added in some spinach to round out the meal, and it ended up being a nice, simple way to spend the first Monday of 2012.


The verdict


Simple and tasty. I'm a sucker for crispy pierogi cooked in butter any day, but served alongside some juicy pork warmed my soul as much as my belly. The cumin really drew the mustard flavors up through the breading. I think I might consider a whipped goat cheese alongside this next time I make it. I couldn't help but think that it would have been a nice addition. 


Tonight was one of many recently where I had thought about opening a bottle of wine for myself to enjoy with dinner. My wife is pregnant, and I'm trying to be supportive of her abstinence. (But man, I sure do miss the grape!) That said, I'm not really sure what I would have opened tonight. If you have bothered to read this, I'd love suggestions.