Strawberry Soup and Salad

For well over a year now, our older daughter has mimicked me cooking. She hasn't always mimicked what I've made however, and among the more creative ideas she's invented in her own mind was strawberry soup. I know it's been made. I know it could be made many different ways. But I wanted to make my own take on the concept in honor of my daughter, and in an effort to encourage spring to finally settle in for us, I figured a dinner of salad and cold soup would at least put is in the right mindset.

Strawberry Soup and Salad

I decided to keep this simple, and slightly sweet, and I wanted something cool and refreshing. I was pretty disappointed in the condition of the strawberries I'd just purchased yesterday. They looked great at the store, but by today, a cluster of them had begun to degrade pretty badly. I had to cut back my quantity, and also my hopes for the salad, where I'd planned to either add either slices of strawberry, or if there had been enough berries, perhaps even a nice fresh strawberry vinaigrette.  I put the strawberries that survived into the blender with a few tablespoons of water, a few baby carrots, honey, and a small hint of powdered sugar.

The salad was a basic mixed greens base with some sliced cucumber and Bermuda onion. I topped this with some sautéed chicken breast, and served it with a homemade honey mustard vinaigrette I generally keep on hand.

The verdict

This meal served two functions beyond feeding us tonight. It was an homage to my daughter, and with each day, I grow more and more fond of the girl she is becoming. She made me particularly proud tonight by actually tasting the strawberry soup, not once, but twice. I'll take that; she may not be ready to eat it, but at least she isn't fighting me as much on trying new things. For my wife and I, an added pinch of dried mint topped off the soup, and with that small extra flavor pop, my second purpose - giving at least our plates some hint of springtime - was served. I kept the soup portions small; too much cold soup, especially something on the sweet side, starts to feel like dessert all too quickly. I think some better-quality strawberries would have been helpful, but it was tasty, and both a refreshing change of pace, and simply refreshing.

We poured a couple of glasses of mediocre Riesling with our dinner, and the simplicity of the whole thing has me looking to the coming days, with daytime highs finally leaving the 30s, with great enthusiasm. I think I'll be making strawberry soup again, but I'll probably make sure to serve it colder, and I may add a bit more of the carrot next time. Maybe this summer, our older daughter will join us for a full helping.

Ham and Fruit Empanadas

This week sucked. To be clear, when I was growing up, that was not a word used lightly, so short of really expressing how much the week sucked in the more colorful words the week richly deserves, let's leave it at that. Not all of the week was bad, but the work part was brutal, and having daily crises to contend with put a real hurt on my good dinner planning. Last night, my wife ended up cooking the ham steak I'd defrosted, and shared it with our girls for dinner as I plugged away at work, well past our collective bedtimes, on one of several problems that was still lingering. I had to rethink my plans for tonight to insure we didn't end up with a heaping pile of spoiled food going into the trash just in time for the weekend. I'm usually pretty careful in my planning and shopping, and having something take me off course late in the week can be a real problem.

I knew I wanted to make another kind of empanada after the fun I had making the spicy pork iteration back in the fall. My initial plan was something with pineapple, with the hamsteak on the side, but since the ham was cooked, I decided to try something a bit different. I used the Goya frozen empanada discos again, accepting my usual time constraints. The biggest spoilage worry I had was the fresh, whole (small-ish) pineapple I'd bought over the weekend, and I used my fun pineapple slicer gadget to get things started. If you can afford one (they're pretty cheap), have room for one, and like pineapple, I strongly suggest picking up one of these tools. They leave the core and the skin behind, and you get even slices to boot. I broke the slices into 1/2 cm bits, and mixed them with chopped dried apricot (around 12), craisins (a generous handful; for a bit of tartness), about 1 1/2 tsp of cinnamon, and about 1/2 tsp each of nutmeg and mustard powder.  I cubed up the ham into roughly 1/2 cm pieces, adding the yield of about a cup and a half to my mixture with a handful or so of shredded cheddar, and remixed the filling. I had more filling than I needed for the 10 pieces of dough, so I'll have to work the filling into something over the weekend. For the cooking, I fried them in a small bath of canola oil.

The verdict

My wife and I LOVED these little concoctions. It was like having a delicious personal fruit pie, and bit of a savory-smoky dinner all in one. The crisp shell with a not-at-all gooey middle was wonderful, and while I had some concerns about it, the modest bit of flavor from the added spices did not overpower the dish at all. My wife opened some chardonnay without me yesterday, and in the spirit of not wasting things or letting them spoil, we went ahead and enjoyed the rest with this meal. I will not hesitate to make these again, and hopefully soon.

This was a challenging week, and we capped off the work week with with a challenging meal for our older daughter. It has been a while since we had any substantial food/dinner drama, but tonight we got it full force. Our usual morning commute of 20-30 minutes to school/work extended beyond an hour and a half, following a tragic, fatal accident on Lake Shore Drive hours before we were even awake that resulted in part of the road closed until late into rush hour. Add to that some general exhaustion, and maybe a small bit of gloom added from the cold rain falling, and I am glad we were able to get her to eat any part of the meal.  When trying some tiny portion of the dinner, she began to cry, and when we asked her why she was crying, she replied that "[the food] tickles the polka dots on my pants!" Ticklish pants are usually a pretty good sign that it's bedtime. After a week of problems, headaches, and adjustments, having such a great dinner to close out the work week was just what I needed. And now, if you will excuse me - I think my own polka dots are starting to tickle...

Chicken goodness; no guilt

The first time I tried a Chick-fil-A sandwich, I was dazzled. So simple, but so good. Nothing mysterious about it. I was much younger then, and while no less passionate about social justice and politics, I was not nearly as connected to others, nor informed about issues as I am now. As a teen, I would glibly toss around derisive comments about all things gay, and I'm sure I was hurtful somewhere along the way. Then, a funny thing happened.  I realized that a whole lot of my friends, people I cared about deeply, were gay. And over the years, I noticed that I cared less and less about their sexuality, and a whole lot more about how others treated them. I had similarly enlightening and evolutionary experiences over the years, having heard my fair share of closed-minded rants about "otherness" throughout my youth; I like to believe that I've managed to outgrow the vast majority of my misperceptions.

When it became clear to me over the past year or so that Dan Cathy, president of Chick-fil-A, supported a number of (at best) distasteful causes, I joined many of my friends in swearing off the food. Yes, I know that the local franchisees are not the same thing as the overarching corporation, but when a businessperson chooses to open a franchise restaurant, they do tend to have some options. They could opt to start up a restaurant in partnership with a corporation that is supportive of positive causes, and not mired in, frankly, hate. In short, I just don't have a problem with opting not to buy food from a company that will, in turn, use some of my money to support causes that squarely target some of my dearest friends simply because of who they are, and who they love.

This doesn't help me with a fundamental problem - I love the taste of that chicken.

So, last night, I took my shot at making a good substitute for our family to enjoy. I did some digging around online to find what others had attempted, and settled on my own pathway. I knew I was looking at a simple egg/flour coating, but it seems that folks tend to add some kind of sugar in this recreation. I did add some powdered sugar to the flour, salt, and pepper, and also added a small dash of Old Bay seasoning. To the eggs (2), I added an equal part of milk. That's it. For those who like measurements, I can only offer you guesstimates. I had 5 chicken breasts, which I halved in thickness. I wanted to insure the chicken didn't overwhelm the bun, and these were some large breasts. I used about a cup and half of flour, probably 3-4 tablespoons of powdered sugar, 4 teaspoons of salt, 2 of pepper, and a scant 1 of the Old Bay. If used excessively, Old Bay can overpower, so I wanted to keep it modest, but still add a little something to the mixture.

I cooked my chicken in a 50/50 blend of canola and peanut oils, largely because I was almost out of peanut oil. I will make darn sure I have more peanut oil next time, but this worked just fine.  If I were cooking this many breasts again in the future, I would break out the deep fryer to save time. I do try to get food on the table in 30-40 minutes most nights, but in choosing to use the pan, it took much longer. To save time, I did most of my chicken prep while my fries were cooking. Sadly, I don't have a waffle cutter on hand, but my mandoline made quick work of the potatoes, and I had some great cuts in a hurry. As with all frying, the goal is golden brown and delicious (thank you, Alton Brown, for having your voice attached to that phrase for the rest of my life). I love Claussen pickles, and pretty much always have a large jar of them on hand (one of those great Costco perks). I had only spears on hand, so I cut them into 1 cm slices, and put 4 on each sandwich, which was spot on for proportions. I served up some green beans, having forgotten to pick up cole slaw (my preferred side dish when I used to patronize the chain) in my last shop.

The verdict

I think my wife and I agreed: this was every bit as good as what we used to get. I need to find a waffle cutter if I want the whole experience, but I can say with absolute certainty that I can now have my "Chick-fil-A" at home without the guilt. No compromise on taste at all, and well-worth the effort. In fact, it was good enough for our 4-year-old to declare it "delicious," and eat a whole piece of chicken herself! 

I know some of my friends have different takes on the issue of gay rights, and I understand why they feel the way they do. But I firmly disagree with them, and feel it is vitally important to take small stands on my own beliefs. I can't knowingly spend money knowing that some of it is going to causes that are completely at odds with what I feel is good and decent. My daughters live across the entryway to our building from a lesbian couple with a son between them in age. They see a loving family, just like ours, nearly everyday, and I'm glad that my 2 girls are not going to hear from us the kind of bitter, hateful attitudes I heard about same-sex couples when I was growing up. Sure, they'll hear it and see it in life, but it is my sincere hope that they will be voices of reason and care when they do. I officiated a wedding ceremony for 2 other friends, both women, a few years ago, and I look forward to doing it again when I can sign their marriage certificate that grants them the same legal rights my wife and I enjoy. 

In love, in life -- and in chicken -- there should be no guilt!

Rack of Wild Boar

After my wild boar taco night, I had an inclination to cook more wild boar, and I tapped into Artizone, and this Gepperth's Meat Market again for a delivery. I sampled my Facebook friends first to see if  they felt I should make the boar, or instead try some alligator. Boar won.

I had spent the day, a Saturday, working, and was pretty beat after cleaning up the wiring in a switch rack, but I was quickly reinvigorated by the prospect of eating this meal. Thankfully, my wife was willing to help out a bit. She got my roasted potatoes put together and in the oven as I unwound for a few minutes after getting home. I'd saved some of the bacon fat from our breakfast, and had her combine a couple of tablespoons of those drippings with an equal part of olive oil, some Kosciusko beer mustard, dill, and Worcestershire sauce. Once she had those in the oven, I took back over the kitchen.

For the boar, I wanted to try some deep, rich flavors, so I opted for a rub of coarsely ground coffee (Mierisch coffee, for the record), fennel seed, salt, and pepper. I briefly pan-seared the 2 racks in a cast iron skillet, then moved them to finish off in the oven. I also wanted to complement the boar with a good sauce, so I turned to one that I've counted on many times before, with a slight alteration. It is a creamy mustard sauce that emulates one I'll write about more in the future. This time around, I opted for a basic roux, some milk, prepared mustard, ground mustard, roasted mustard seeds, and dill. This is a bit of a variance from my norm, but in addition, and most importantly, I added a bit of white balsamic this time around. It added a bit of sweetness that mellowed the flavor quite nicely. 

The Verdict

On the whole, the meal was good. The two racks were of unequal size, so the one we ate last night was, if anything, a bit more well done than I cared for. The other rack was deliberately underdone, and I served it up tonight as leftovers after a quick sear in the skillet. These were, for me, a bit more tender, but both were satisfying. The fennel was great, and coffee surprisingly mild. They worked well together, but when paired with the mustard sauce, the flavors were far more interesting. I would probably opt for one or the other next time, and not both, if I were to keep the sauce. Or I would keep both and serve with a balsamic or cider reduction next time. That said, I'm sure there will be a next time. I am finding boar a delicious delicacy, and will have to keep it on our menu from time to time.

The potatoes were a real treat, and we found ourselves dipping them in the sauce just as much as we did the meat. Our first night, we had some corn with our meal, and the second night some green beans. There really was no good reason to go crazy with the veggies, so I didn't. We had both meals with some Chilean Carmenere, and it was fine, but I think I'll spend a bit more time picking a better wine the next time I serve boar. 

I know I usually write more about life, but this time through, it is all I can do to just write about the meal. That said, I'm proud to report that BOTH our daughters tried, and seemed to enjoy the meat!

I'll have to plan for the gator down the road a bit. Stay tuned.

Lamb and Pork with Yogurt Mint Sauce

I had planned to offer up some post-holiday entries. Alas, post-holiday has gone on nearly a month, and much good eating is past, much of that blog-worthy, but time has a way of keeping me from this whole blogging endeavor. Tonight, I had to write at least a little something, with the year already three weeks deep, and this meal was certainly worthwhile. I had planned to offer up something about beef barley soup made with the bones from our Christmas Eve dinner, too. Instead, I simply added a comment to that blog post, so if you are interested in what I did, I copied and pasted my reply to a Facebook request I'd had for that follow up explaining the basics of what I ended up making.

Tonight was an interesting night. Our older daughter was in a bit of a "mood," and frankly was trying our collective patience. Getting into cooking mode was a great escape, and I dug in after we all settled into the warmth of our home after a chilly day, picking everyone up, and a quick trip to the grocery store to get a few things I'd forgotten in the weekend shop.  I combined some ground lamb and ground pork with re-hydrated onions (I forgot the onions even on the second trip), salt, pepper, a bit of dill, dried mint, dried cilantro, a really small dash of nutmeg, and a generous addition of za'atar from a wonderful Middle Eastern grocery/bakery nearby in our 'hood. Za'atar is great to have around in general, and I have used it on grilled chicken in the past as well. It makes for a quick grab from the spice rack, and adds a great deal of flavor in a hurry. (Side note: I wrote about using za'atar in a previous post about my attempt at making kefta)

I formed the meat mixture into oblong, flattened meatballs and sauteed them in some olive oil, getting a nice crispy bit of brown on the outside.  I made a bit of plain orzo to serve on the side, which was a great introduction to pasta for our little one. She is feeding herself more and more now, and she negotiated getting the orzo into her mouth with greater ease than I'd have imagined possible.  I did take a shortcut on one front. We keep some nice pouches of quick lentils-in-sauce on hand that we pick up from Costco from time to time, and with a dollop of yogurt, they are just amazing. As I've noted before, I try hard to get good meals on the table as fast as I can on weeknights, so such shortcuts are necessary, but don't have to come at the expense of taste and nutritional value. 

The crowning glory was a quick yogurt-mint sauce. The big plus from the grocery trip was grabbing some fresh mint. I like to keep somewhat bigger pieces of mint when I make this, so a quick chiffonade did the trick, along with a couple of cloves of minced garlic, a splash of lemon juice, salt, and pepper (and of course the yogurt). It always amazes me how simple additions like a nice sauce can transform a meal, and so many yogurt sauces are so easy to make, it's shame I don't make them more often.

The Verdict

I was so glad to dig into this meal. The smell of the kitchen was just intoxicating tonight, and my anticipation had been building all day for this meal (well, all week, really). It did not disappoint! The meat was flavorful and juicy, and the bit of crispy brown had that kind of umami vibe going on; that's the best way I can describe it. The yogurt-mint sauce was as good as I've ever made it, pretty well nailing the proportions. I sometimes go too far with the garlic or lemon juice and have to adjust, rarely getting it this good. I kept the orzo plain, and used it to mix in the sauce from the lentils and the stray yogurt on my plate. 

This meal was a complete success, and I can't wait to make it again.

As for the little ones: 
Some yogurt sauce dripped into the avocado we were feeding to our younger daughter along with her orzo, and I decided to just go ahead and feed it to her anyway. She liked it so much, I even added a bit more for her, and for the first time in a while, she ended up polishing off an entire half an avocado. I am going to go ahead and guess that it was baby-approved. The real delight was, after our older daughter finished up with her "mood attack," and finally settled in to eat, she ended up eating a really nice portion of the meat (for a change). She had hers sans sauce, and she passed on the lentils, opting instead for her usual side of green peas. The orzo was a universal hit; no surprise in our carb-loving family.

We will have at this meal again tomorrow as leftovers, and I'm thinking about opening up some wine for the adventure. If you'd like to make any suggestions, feel free to comment!

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..."