To all three of my readers, I apologize. In April, I transitioned from working at home to working 40+ hours a week in an office, writing on a computer all day long. With all of that computer-writing, the last thing I wanted to do when I got home was write even more on a computer.
But I missed writing about food, so I'm back. And all of this working has me cooking new, creative meals that I can throw together when I get home at 6:30 p.m.
One of the meals that I always come back to is Sausage with White Beans, a recipe I modified from my favorite food blog, Simply Recipes. I think I've spoken before about the fantastic chicken and turkey sausage at my beloved Farmer's Market; if I haven't, that Farmer's Market is worthy of its own blog post.
This one-pot meal was meant to be served during the winter, for it is hearty, hot and filling. However, one can easily turn on a fan and enjoy it as well. (Really, it's not that bad.)
First is my friend Barbara's brilliant suggestion for cooking dried white beans in a slow cooker. It's perfect - just pick out the bad beans, add into the slow cooker with water and three measly ingredients that you'll always have in your pantry, set and forget (forgive the Billy Mays-esque plug there - R.I.P., Mr. Mays.). No soaking or watching over a pot for an hour or two. Freeze the leftovers in freezer bags with a little of their cooking liquid, and you'll always have an array of beans onhand that's a more economical and less salty subsitution for canned beans. Plus, you can use that lovely, mushy garlic that results from the all-day cookery.
Now, on to the recipe(s):
Crock-Pot Beans
Ingredients:
- 1 1-lb. bag dried cannelini (or any other kind of) beans
- 3-4 cloves garlic, smashed and peeled
- 2 bay leaves
- 1/2 tsp. salt or smoked sea salt
- Water
Directions:
Briefly pick through the beans and remove any broken beans or stones. Pour beans and next three ingredients in a medium-sized slow cooker, and add about 32 oz. of water (or three times as much water as you have beans). Cook on low for 6 hours or on high for 3 hours for more firm beans; cook on low for 8 hours or on high for 4 hours for softer beans.
Sausage and White Beans
Ingredients:
- 1 lb. bulk sausage, preferably hot turkey or chicken sausage
- 1-2 tablespoons olive oil
- 2 cloves garlic, chopped
- Red pepper flakes and salt to taste
- Dried sage (optional)
- 14 oz. chopped tomatoes in puree
- Reserved cooked garlic cloves (optional)
- 1/2 c. bean cooking liquid (if you don't have it, 1/4 c. water will work instead)
- 1/2 lb. cooked white beans, or two cans of white beans, drained and rinsed
Directions:
Heat a pan over medium heat and add olive oil. Saute garlic for 30 seconds, then add sausage, breaking up with the back of a wooden spoon. Spread the sausage out in the pan, and don't stir it often so it can brown. When sausage is browned, sprinkle salt, red pepper flakes and sage over. Add tomatoes in puree, and be careful, because the pan will bubble like mad. Stir the tomatoes and scrape the browned bits off the bottom of the pan. Add the cooked garlic cloves if using, mash and mix into the sauce. Turn off the heat and add the cooked white beans at the end, gently folding them into the mixture so they don't get smashed. You will want the beans whole. Serves 4.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Chili, chocolate and warm spring nights
As much as warm weather inspires me to eat cooler meals, it also inspires me to eat spicy foods. The spicier, the better -- anytime, really. For spring and summer, I just figure, hey, I'm already kind of sweaty, why not eat something hot too? (Actually, that's kind of gross.)
Maybe it's because spicy foods go so darn well with margaritas, mojitos and ice-cold beer. Like I need an excuse to down one of those!
This is my own (healthy) chili recipe, formulated from much experimentation about what I like. Good chili is all about the balance of flavors - acid from the tomatoes, heat from the chili powder (and chopped green chilies, in this case) and kernels of sweet corn for cool relief. Chili needs to be hot on the surface, but have depth of flavor as well. And for this recipe, that's where the chocolate comes in.
In Cincinatti, the chili comes chock full 'o cinnamon, and that sounds a little disgusting to me. But if you add a small square (or more) of dark chocolate to your chili, the sugar balances out the tomatoes' acidity and gives your chili a lovely, smoky brown color. Just a warning - the more chocolate you add, the more salt you'll have to add as well.
I'm not a fan of pre-seasoned chili mixes because they're mostly made of salt. I prefer chili powder, which can be found in the spice section of your grocery store. After serving yourself a bowl of this chili, feel free to add a dollop of light sour cream, shredded cheddar and chopped fresh cilantro. The best news? This chili can be cooked and on the table in 20 minutes.
Chocolate Turkey Chili
Ingredients:
- 1 pound ground turkey breast
- 1/2 onion, chopped
- 1 can black beans, rinsed
- 1 can kidney beans, rinsed
- 1 28 oz. can diced tomatoes, undrained
- 1 small can chopped green chilies
- 1/2 cup frozen corn kernels (no need to thaw beforehand)
- Chili powder and sea salt to taste
- 1/5 bar good-quality dark chocolate (65% or more cacao)
Instructions:
In a large nonstick saucepan or Dutch oven over medium heat, brown the turkey and onions with a little olive oil. Add the next five ingredients, adding water if mixture looks too chunky. Stir in at least 1/2 tablespoon of chili powder and taste for heat level. Add more chili powder if necessary. Bring mixture to a boil and add chocolate, stirring constantly after the chocolate addition. Let mixture simmer over medium-low to medium heat for 10 minutes, and taste before adding salt at the end. (Since some of the water cooks out, adding salt earlier could result in a saltier end result.) Ladle into bowls and serve.
Maybe it's because spicy foods go so darn well with margaritas, mojitos and ice-cold beer. Like I need an excuse to down one of those!
This is my own (healthy) chili recipe, formulated from much experimentation about what I like. Good chili is all about the balance of flavors - acid from the tomatoes, heat from the chili powder (and chopped green chilies, in this case) and kernels of sweet corn for cool relief. Chili needs to be hot on the surface, but have depth of flavor as well. And for this recipe, that's where the chocolate comes in.
In Cincinatti, the chili comes chock full 'o cinnamon, and that sounds a little disgusting to me. But if you add a small square (or more) of dark chocolate to your chili, the sugar balances out the tomatoes' acidity and gives your chili a lovely, smoky brown color. Just a warning - the more chocolate you add, the more salt you'll have to add as well.
I'm not a fan of pre-seasoned chili mixes because they're mostly made of salt. I prefer chili powder, which can be found in the spice section of your grocery store. After serving yourself a bowl of this chili, feel free to add a dollop of light sour cream, shredded cheddar and chopped fresh cilantro. The best news? This chili can be cooked and on the table in 20 minutes.
Chocolate Turkey Chili
Ingredients:
- 1 pound ground turkey breast
- 1/2 onion, chopped
- 1 can black beans, rinsed
- 1 can kidney beans, rinsed
- 1 28 oz. can diced tomatoes, undrained
- 1 small can chopped green chilies
- 1/2 cup frozen corn kernels (no need to thaw beforehand)
- Chili powder and sea salt to taste
- 1/5 bar good-quality dark chocolate (65% or more cacao)
Instructions:
In a large nonstick saucepan or Dutch oven over medium heat, brown the turkey and onions with a little olive oil. Add the next five ingredients, adding water if mixture looks too chunky. Stir in at least 1/2 tablespoon of chili powder and taste for heat level. Add more chili powder if necessary. Bring mixture to a boil and add chocolate, stirring constantly after the chocolate addition. Let mixture simmer over medium-low to medium heat for 10 minutes, and taste before adding salt at the end. (Since some of the water cooks out, adding salt earlier could result in a saltier end result.) Ladle into bowls and serve.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Sweet potato and blue cheese, brought to you by an idiot
An idiot gave me this recipe.
No, seriously, I used to work with this guy that was, essentially, "that guy" times 100. He was a PowerPoint presentation builder who not only stretched out and took a nap behind a desk in the video studio during work hours, but he often fell asleep and SNORED while sitting up at his desk.
He said he should have been credited with doing the first successful angioplasty because he performed open heart surgery on his hamster when he was seven years old. He went on and on about how "spacefoam" would take over all of our lives (still not really sure what that is), and let his small children roam about his house without diapers. He must have let his pet bird do the same, because once he came into the office with bird doo on his shoulder, unbeknownst to him.
Once, he was off on a tangent about how people from the South are all uneducated (ahem), and I was really starting to get mad. To make me feel better, he said, "Jaime, I know the South. I used to live in a log cabin (in upstate New York, mind you). I used to have to use an outhouse."
What? Okay, maybe I can let the "uneducated Southerners" comment slide, but insisting we don't have running water?! Come on.
I had almost written him off completely until he brought this sweet potato and blue cheese casserole in for our work potluck. Warm, soft sweet potato, sharp blue cheese and buttery sage with cream! I got seconds and thirds and even took some home. I put a smile on my face and asked for the recipe (by email, of course), and thankfully, the recipe didn't come with a story about how he invented sweet potatoes.
And y'all, I have tried and tried to make this recipe low-fat, but nothing holds up to high heat like heavy cream. Sometimes I've gotten evaporated milk to work, but... I advise you to just go ahead and use the heavy cream. It's worth it.
Also, a note about the blue cheese in this recipe: It pays to get really good blue cheese, like Stilton, Gorgonzola or Danish blue, the kind you have to crumble yourself, from the specialty cheese section of your market. However, if you're trying to cut some of the fat, Publix brand's reduced-fat Gorgonzola has more flavor than others.
Sweet Potato and Blue Cheese Casserole
Ingredients:
- 3 large sweet potatoes, peeled and cut lengthwise in 1/8" slices
- 8 ounces blue cheese
- 1/4 to 1/2 cup fresh sage leaves
- 1 pint heavy cream
- Butter
- Salt
- White pepper (If you don't have it, black pepper will work fine.)
Directions:
Preheat the oven to 400 degrees. Butter a 9x13 pan.
In a saucepan over medium heat, melt several tablespoons of butter and add the sage leaves. Saute' until the sage leaves wilt slightly and absorb all of the butter. Set aside.
Lay a row of sweet potato slices like shingles in the bottom of the pan. Sprinkle with salt and white pepper, then disperse half of the sage leaves over the top. Sprinkle 1/3 of the blue cheese over that. Repeat the layers, ending with blue cheese on the top and no sage. Pour the heavy cream over all. It should come up to about 1 inch below the top of the dish. Bake for 30-40 minutes, until all of the cream is absorbed.
No, seriously, I used to work with this guy that was, essentially, "that guy" times 100. He was a PowerPoint presentation builder who not only stretched out and took a nap behind a desk in the video studio during work hours, but he often fell asleep and SNORED while sitting up at his desk.
He said he should have been credited with doing the first successful angioplasty because he performed open heart surgery on his hamster when he was seven years old. He went on and on about how "spacefoam" would take over all of our lives (still not really sure what that is), and let his small children roam about his house without diapers. He must have let his pet bird do the same, because once he came into the office with bird doo on his shoulder, unbeknownst to him.
Once, he was off on a tangent about how people from the South are all uneducated (ahem), and I was really starting to get mad. To make me feel better, he said, "Jaime, I know the South. I used to live in a log cabin (in upstate New York, mind you). I used to have to use an outhouse."
What? Okay, maybe I can let the "uneducated Southerners" comment slide, but insisting we don't have running water?! Come on.
I had almost written him off completely until he brought this sweet potato and blue cheese casserole in for our work potluck. Warm, soft sweet potato, sharp blue cheese and buttery sage with cream! I got seconds and thirds and even took some home. I put a smile on my face and asked for the recipe (by email, of course), and thankfully, the recipe didn't come with a story about how he invented sweet potatoes.
And y'all, I have tried and tried to make this recipe low-fat, but nothing holds up to high heat like heavy cream. Sometimes I've gotten evaporated milk to work, but... I advise you to just go ahead and use the heavy cream. It's worth it.
Also, a note about the blue cheese in this recipe: It pays to get really good blue cheese, like Stilton, Gorgonzola or Danish blue, the kind you have to crumble yourself, from the specialty cheese section of your market. However, if you're trying to cut some of the fat, Publix brand's reduced-fat Gorgonzola has more flavor than others.
Sweet Potato and Blue Cheese Casserole
Ingredients:
- 3 large sweet potatoes, peeled and cut lengthwise in 1/8" slices
- 8 ounces blue cheese
- 1/4 to 1/2 cup fresh sage leaves
- 1 pint heavy cream
- Butter
- Salt
- White pepper (If you don't have it, black pepper will work fine.)
Directions:
Preheat the oven to 400 degrees. Butter a 9x13 pan.
In a saucepan over medium heat, melt several tablespoons of butter and add the sage leaves. Saute' until the sage leaves wilt slightly and absorb all of the butter. Set aside.
Lay a row of sweet potato slices like shingles in the bottom of the pan. Sprinkle with salt and white pepper, then disperse half of the sage leaves over the top. Sprinkle 1/3 of the blue cheese over that. Repeat the layers, ending with blue cheese on the top and no sage. Pour the heavy cream over all. It should come up to about 1 inch below the top of the dish. Bake for 30-40 minutes, until all of the cream is absorbed.
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Chocolate chip cheese ball! Chocolate chip cheese ball!
Contrary to this blog's title, I do not normally feel the need to shout recipes at people. But sometimes, a recipe shouts at you first.
That is, like, so deep, man.
One of my friends always brought this chocolate chip cheese ball to my group of friends' wine and cheese parties in college. Though I had never seen it before she introduced it to us, I became so accustomed to it during my college years that I thought everyone else already knew about it.
... Until my husband and I hosted an engagement party in January, and man, did people go for this chocolate chip cheese ball. Not only did they rave about it, they congregated around it. "What's in this, crack?" they asked, while shoveling fistfuls of cookie and cream cheese into their mouths. (Well... yes. You got me. It is crack.) I can't tell you how many times I emailed the recipe to party attendees after the party. As people wrote on my Facebook page for the recipe, others would read their posts and also ask about it, intrigued.
Contrary to what I wrote in the paragraph above, the secret to this not-so-fancy dessert is not crack. (And to one of my other friends: It's not a cheddar cheese ball with chocolate chips stuck to it, either. Ha!) It's the combination of everything fattening and good that makes it so wonderful: butter, cream cheese, sugar, more sugar, vanilla, chocolate chips, and possibly pecans. My friend from college always served it solely with graham crackers, but I find the addition of vanilla wafers and chocolate wafer cookies adds a textural vehicle to the recipe.
Consider yourself warned: This stuff is addictive. (Hmm, maybe there is crack in it after all...)
Chocolate Chip Cheese Ball
Ingredients:
- 1 (8 ounce) package cream cheese, softened
- 1/2 cup butter, softened
- 3/4 cup confectioners' sugar
- 2 tablespoons brown sugar
- 1/4 teaspoon vanilla extract
- 1 12 oz. package miniature semisweet chocolate chips
- 3/4 cup finely chopped pecans (optional)
- Graham crackers, vanilla wafers, chocolate wafer cookies
Directions:
In a medium bowl, beat together cream cheese and butter until smooth. Mix in confectioners' sugar, brown sugar and vanilla. Stir in chocolate chips, reserving a handful for garnish. Cover and chill in the refrigerator for 2 hours. I've found chilling it overnight works best.
Shape chilled cream cheese mixture into a ball. Wrap with plastic, and chill in the refrigerator for 1 hour.
Sprinkle the outside with chocolate chips and pecans (if using) before serving. Arrange in the center of a platter with rows of graham crackers (broken into eighths), vanilla wafers and chocolate wafer cookies around.
That is, like, so deep, man.
One of my friends always brought this chocolate chip cheese ball to my group of friends' wine and cheese parties in college. Though I had never seen it before she introduced it to us, I became so accustomed to it during my college years that I thought everyone else already knew about it.
... Until my husband and I hosted an engagement party in January, and man, did people go for this chocolate chip cheese ball. Not only did they rave about it, they congregated around it. "What's in this, crack?" they asked, while shoveling fistfuls of cookie and cream cheese into their mouths. (Well... yes. You got me. It is crack.) I can't tell you how many times I emailed the recipe to party attendees after the party. As people wrote on my Facebook page for the recipe, others would read their posts and also ask about it, intrigued.
Contrary to what I wrote in the paragraph above, the secret to this not-so-fancy dessert is not crack. (And to one of my other friends: It's not a cheddar cheese ball with chocolate chips stuck to it, either. Ha!) It's the combination of everything fattening and good that makes it so wonderful: butter, cream cheese, sugar, more sugar, vanilla, chocolate chips, and possibly pecans. My friend from college always served it solely with graham crackers, but I find the addition of vanilla wafers and chocolate wafer cookies adds a textural vehicle to the recipe.
Consider yourself warned: This stuff is addictive. (Hmm, maybe there is crack in it after all...)
Chocolate Chip Cheese Ball
Ingredients:
- 1 (8 ounce) package cream cheese, softened
- 1/2 cup butter, softened
- 3/4 cup confectioners' sugar
- 2 tablespoons brown sugar
- 1/4 teaspoon vanilla extract
- 1 12 oz. package miniature semisweet chocolate chips
- 3/4 cup finely chopped pecans (optional)
- Graham crackers, vanilla wafers, chocolate wafer cookies
Directions:
In a medium bowl, beat together cream cheese and butter until smooth. Mix in confectioners' sugar, brown sugar and vanilla. Stir in chocolate chips, reserving a handful for garnish. Cover and chill in the refrigerator for 2 hours. I've found chilling it overnight works best.
Shape chilled cream cheese mixture into a ball. Wrap with plastic, and chill in the refrigerator for 1 hour.
Sprinkle the outside with chocolate chips and pecans (if using) before serving. Arrange in the center of a platter with rows of graham crackers (broken into eighths), vanilla wafers and chocolate wafer cookies around.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Southerners and casseroles are like peas and carrots... and mayonnaise
I so am from the South. It's not only in my head; it's in my blood. I'm a fourth-generation native Georgian, the daughter and granddaughter of Georgia peanut farmers. And I love that fact. Where else is college football a religion, pearls a requirement and meat a necessary ingredient in vegetables?
The meat-and-vegetable comment brings me to my latest subject, casseroles. Casseroles and Southern go together like wine and cheese, spaghetti and meatballs, like cabbage and mayonnaise.
Wait... what?
Yes, cabbage and mayonnaise. Though this particular blog won't delve into the cabbage-and-mayo casserole recipe that was given to me at one of my bridal showers, I will explain this: Southerners can take any perfectly healthy vegetable, add some butter, mayonnaise, cheese and bread crumbs, bake it at 325 degrees, and it's a casserole. (Man, doesn't that sound good right now? Mmm...)
This particular casserole is brought to you by my favorite cookbook, "A Standing Invitation," the Dawson United Methodist ladies' collection. Yes, it's a church ladies' cookbook, so you can thereby rest assured that whatever is going to come out of it is going to be good, 'cause y'all, church ladies know how to cook. But don't just take my word for it: This cookbook is so fantastic that it was first printed in 1990 and is still regularly printed throughout the South, nearly 20 years after its initial printing. I have managed to acquire three copies of it throughout my lifetime, one that's autographed by the original editor, Lynette Cowart, who was part of a story I wrote for The Albany Herald at my first job out of college. She wrote a nice note to me inside the front cover, where she spoke about how much she loved my grandmother and mother.
Don't just look at the ingredients list and sigh --- the combination of these flavors is sheer magic that only tried-and-true Southern church ladies can create. The following is my quick-cooking variation on Mrs. Homer (Ruby) McDaniel's lovely recipe. It's important to note that in no way do I ever measure the vegetable ingredients; I just add how ever much I feel like on that day. Please feel free to do the same.
Sausage Casserole
Ingredients:
-1 pound bulk sausage (I switch between my local farmers' market's homemade turkey sausage and Jimmy Dean's reduced-fat pork sausage, even though the latter is 12 oz. instead of a pound)
- 4 1/2 cups water
- 2 packages dry chicken noodle soup mix (soup with chicken broth)
- 1/2 cup uncooked brown Minute rice
- 1/2 cup green pepper, chopped
- 1 cup celery, chopped
- 1 cup onion, chopped
Directions:
Brown sausage and drain. Mix water, soup and rice together and boil for seven minutes. Mix in sausage, pepper, celery and onions. Place in a long baking dish. Cover with foil and bake at 350 degrees for 30 minutes.
The meat-and-vegetable comment brings me to my latest subject, casseroles. Casseroles and Southern go together like wine and cheese, spaghetti and meatballs, like cabbage and mayonnaise.
Wait... what?
Yes, cabbage and mayonnaise. Though this particular blog won't delve into the cabbage-and-mayo casserole recipe that was given to me at one of my bridal showers, I will explain this: Southerners can take any perfectly healthy vegetable, add some butter, mayonnaise, cheese and bread crumbs, bake it at 325 degrees, and it's a casserole. (Man, doesn't that sound good right now? Mmm...)
This particular casserole is brought to you by my favorite cookbook, "A Standing Invitation," the Dawson United Methodist ladies' collection. Yes, it's a church ladies' cookbook, so you can thereby rest assured that whatever is going to come out of it is going to be good, 'cause y'all, church ladies know how to cook. But don't just take my word for it: This cookbook is so fantastic that it was first printed in 1990 and is still regularly printed throughout the South, nearly 20 years after its initial printing. I have managed to acquire three copies of it throughout my lifetime, one that's autographed by the original editor, Lynette Cowart, who was part of a story I wrote for The Albany Herald at my first job out of college. She wrote a nice note to me inside the front cover, where she spoke about how much she loved my grandmother and mother.
Don't just look at the ingredients list and sigh --- the combination of these flavors is sheer magic that only tried-and-true Southern church ladies can create. The following is my quick-cooking variation on Mrs. Homer (Ruby) McDaniel's lovely recipe. It's important to note that in no way do I ever measure the vegetable ingredients; I just add how ever much I feel like on that day. Please feel free to do the same.
Sausage Casserole
Ingredients:
-1 pound bulk sausage (I switch between my local farmers' market's homemade turkey sausage and Jimmy Dean's reduced-fat pork sausage, even though the latter is 12 oz. instead of a pound)
- 4 1/2 cups water
- 2 packages dry chicken noodle soup mix (soup with chicken broth)
- 1/2 cup uncooked brown Minute rice
- 1/2 cup green pepper, chopped
- 1 cup celery, chopped
- 1 cup onion, chopped
Directions:
Brown sausage and drain. Mix water, soup and rice together and boil for seven minutes. Mix in sausage, pepper, celery and onions. Place in a long baking dish. Cover with foil and bake at 350 degrees for 30 minutes.
Friday, April 3, 2009
Mr. Chicken, I'm sorry I molested you with lemons
Until a few days ago, I had never cooked a whole chicken. Economical and relatively painless (ahem, for the one cooking the bird, that is), roasting your own whole chicken makes a lot of sense - and cents. Plus, it gave me an excuse to turn leftovers into The Best Caesar Salad Ever (recipe to come) the next day.
I used Ina Garten's Lemon Chicken with Croutons recipe from my oft-used cookbook, "Barefoot in Paris." It was simple and delicious. The idea is that you roast a 4- to 5-pound chicken with lemons on a bed of sliced onions, which creates this fantastic juice that you pour over homemade croutons. By the way, I find homemade croutons to be an interesting, unusual side for thinner sauces, as opposed to doing the same ole' thing with mashed potatoes and gravy.
But y'all, as delicious as this recipe was... for a moment, let's consider that poor, poor chicken. My first instructions in the recipe were to "clean out the chicken." Wow, was THAT disgusting! First, my chicken was still slightly frozen inside his, um, keister, so aside from my fingers becoming completely numb, I wasn't really sure what I was pulling out. I found myself laughing in the kitchen at what I was doing (I'm such a sick jerk, right?) to keep from yakking in the sink.
Allegedly, all of these funky chicken parts should come in a neat little bag for easy removal. Mine did not. Upon further research, here is what you could possibly pull out of a chicken: Giblets (used for gravy, but I find them disgusting and metallic-tasting), the kidney, heart and a flap of fat. You feelin' my disgust now? Uh huh.
But on to the recipe. This recipe is almost exactly Ina Garten's recipe, as it's an easy one for someone who's never roasted a chicken before, except I don't know how she fit two quartered lemons in that chicken's cavity. With lots of struggle, I could only fit one. I put the other four lemon pieces in with the onions. Ina, mazel tov; you have a better talent for molesting chickens than I do. Bon appetit.
Lemon Chicken with Croutons
Ingredients:
- 1 (4- to 5- pound) roasting chicken
- 1 large yellow onion, sliced
- Olive oil
- Salt
- Pepper
- 2 lemons, quartered
- 2 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
- 6 cups (3/4-inch) bread cubes from one French baguette
Directions:
Preheat the oven to 425 degrees.
Take the giblets out of the chicken and wash it inside and out. Remove any excess fat and leftover pinfeathers. Toss the onion with a little olive oil in a small roasting pan (I used my fantastic Le Creuset Dutch oven... because I got it for Christmas and wanted to use it.) Place the chicken on top and sprinkle the inside of the cavity with salt and pepper. Place the lemons inside the chicken. Pat the outside of the chicken dry with paper towels, brush it with the melted butter, and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Tie the legs together with kitchen string (I didn't, and it was fine), and tuck the wing tips under the body of the chicken. (That part is important so the wing tips don't burn.)
Roast for 1 1/4 to 1 1/2 hours, or until the juices run clear when you cut between the leg and the thigh. Cover with foil and allow to sit at room temperature for 15 minutes. (The onions may burn, but the flavor is good.)
Meanwhile, heat a large saute' pan with 2 tablespoons olive oil until very hot. Lower the heat to medium low and saute' the bread cubes, tossing frequently, until nicely browned, 8 to 10 minutes. Add more olive oil as needed and sprinkle with 1/2 teaspoon salt and 1/4 teaspoon pepper. Place the croutons on a serving platter. Slice the chicken and place it, plus all of the pan juices, over the croutons. Sprinkle with salt and serve warm.
I used Ina Garten's Lemon Chicken with Croutons recipe from my oft-used cookbook, "Barefoot in Paris." It was simple and delicious. The idea is that you roast a 4- to 5-pound chicken with lemons on a bed of sliced onions, which creates this fantastic juice that you pour over homemade croutons. By the way, I find homemade croutons to be an interesting, unusual side for thinner sauces, as opposed to doing the same ole' thing with mashed potatoes and gravy.
But y'all, as delicious as this recipe was... for a moment, let's consider that poor, poor chicken. My first instructions in the recipe were to "clean out the chicken." Wow, was THAT disgusting! First, my chicken was still slightly frozen inside his, um, keister, so aside from my fingers becoming completely numb, I wasn't really sure what I was pulling out. I found myself laughing in the kitchen at what I was doing (I'm such a sick jerk, right?) to keep from yakking in the sink.
Allegedly, all of these funky chicken parts should come in a neat little bag for easy removal. Mine did not. Upon further research, here is what you could possibly pull out of a chicken: Giblets (used for gravy, but I find them disgusting and metallic-tasting), the kidney, heart and a flap of fat. You feelin' my disgust now? Uh huh.
But on to the recipe. This recipe is almost exactly Ina Garten's recipe, as it's an easy one for someone who's never roasted a chicken before, except I don't know how she fit two quartered lemons in that chicken's cavity. With lots of struggle, I could only fit one. I put the other four lemon pieces in with the onions. Ina, mazel tov; you have a better talent for molesting chickens than I do. Bon appetit.
Lemon Chicken with Croutons
Ingredients:
- 1 (4- to 5- pound) roasting chicken
- 1 large yellow onion, sliced
- Olive oil
- Salt
- Pepper
- 2 lemons, quartered
- 2 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
- 6 cups (3/4-inch) bread cubes from one French baguette
Directions:
Preheat the oven to 425 degrees.
Take the giblets out of the chicken and wash it inside and out. Remove any excess fat and leftover pinfeathers. Toss the onion with a little olive oil in a small roasting pan (I used my fantastic Le Creuset Dutch oven... because I got it for Christmas and wanted to use it.) Place the chicken on top and sprinkle the inside of the cavity with salt and pepper. Place the lemons inside the chicken. Pat the outside of the chicken dry with paper towels, brush it with the melted butter, and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Tie the legs together with kitchen string (I didn't, and it was fine), and tuck the wing tips under the body of the chicken. (That part is important so the wing tips don't burn.)
Roast for 1 1/4 to 1 1/2 hours, or until the juices run clear when you cut between the leg and the thigh. Cover with foil and allow to sit at room temperature for 15 minutes. (The onions may burn, but the flavor is good.)
Meanwhile, heat a large saute' pan with 2 tablespoons olive oil until very hot. Lower the heat to medium low and saute' the bread cubes, tossing frequently, until nicely browned, 8 to 10 minutes. Add more olive oil as needed and sprinkle with 1/2 teaspoon salt and 1/4 teaspoon pepper. Place the croutons on a serving platter. Slice the chicken and place it, plus all of the pan juices, over the croutons. Sprinkle with salt and serve warm.
Monday, March 30, 2009
If Vietnam and France had a baby...
Wait a minute. No one ever told me (not until last week, actually) that Vietnam and France -- arguably my two favorite countries of culinary origin -- got together and birthed their own cuisine, a street food named bánh mì! Look for it in Atlanta at Quoc Huong, 5150 Buford Hwy. NE, Doraville, in the quite-crowded Asian Square.
Mind, consider yourself officially blown.
I won't go into why two seemingly polar opposite countries - a proud, Western European nation and an equally proud, war-torn Asian nation - had a gastronomical baby, but I'm grateful they did. Instead, I'll explain what makes each cuisine so distinct and wonderful.
Words that make me think of French food: Rich, heavy, cream, classic, wine, butter, cheese, thick, flaky, pastry, indulgent... Outside of creme brulee', French fries and escargot, think of mealy, crispy, thin potatoes fried in duck fat, medium-rare steaks drizzled with a transparent, light buerre blanc (butter sauce) and chives, and tiny pots of luxurious chicken liver pate' topped with a contrastingly sharp, tangy apple jelly. Think of my favorite dessert, chocolate mousse, and all of the beauty in the masterful manipulation of its three simple ingredients: cream, the best melted chocolate and eggs.
I'd describe Vietnamese food with words such as fresh, light, vegetables, basil, pickled, cilantro, fish sauce, noodles, rice paper, quick, charcoal, spring, satisfying, varied... So many separate, contrasting flavors can be found in one dish. My favorite dish, bún chả, has crisp, cool lettuce, cilantro, julienned carrots and cucumber underneath room-temperature vermicelli noodles, charcoal-cooked pork tenderloin, tiny, crispy fried onions and chopped peanuts, with spicy, sweet fish sauce to pour over all. Each forkful produces a slightly different flavor.
Then there's the Vietnamese-French lovechild, bánh mì, a rice-and-wheat flour baguette sandwich filled with pickled vegetables, jalapenos, and that charcoal-cooked, thinly sliced pork tenderloin. The sauce is pate' and mayonnaise, or pate' and bright yellow butter, with a choice of additional sauces, ranging from kinda-spicy to melt-your-face-off, to pour over. The combination and juxtaposition of the two culinary worlds is divine and everything you could hope for: Light and heavy, fresh and rich, sharp and luxurious, herbs and meat, summer and winter.
Since the baguette is made with rice flour and wheat flour, it's lighter than most. In other words, it won't bog down the flavors of the sandwich, this delightful street food, and, ahem, it also won't cut the roof of your mouth. (One of my college roommates seriously injured herself on a French baguette once in a certain well-known sandwich and soup place. No, seriously, the upper piece of that hard bread went in between her gum and tooth... it was not pretty.)
And did I mention the sandwich is only $2.00? Yes, you read that right - two small bucks for one amazing 8" piece o'heaven. So you should go... and witness the birth of what might be the world's most perfect food! That reminds me, it's lunch time...
Mind, consider yourself officially blown.
I won't go into why two seemingly polar opposite countries - a proud, Western European nation and an equally proud, war-torn Asian nation - had a gastronomical baby, but I'm grateful they did. Instead, I'll explain what makes each cuisine so distinct and wonderful.
Words that make me think of French food: Rich, heavy, cream, classic, wine, butter, cheese, thick, flaky, pastry, indulgent... Outside of creme brulee', French fries and escargot, think of mealy, crispy, thin potatoes fried in duck fat, medium-rare steaks drizzled with a transparent, light buerre blanc (butter sauce) and chives, and tiny pots of luxurious chicken liver pate' topped with a contrastingly sharp, tangy apple jelly. Think of my favorite dessert, chocolate mousse, and all of the beauty in the masterful manipulation of its three simple ingredients: cream, the best melted chocolate and eggs.
I'd describe Vietnamese food with words such as fresh, light, vegetables, basil, pickled, cilantro, fish sauce, noodles, rice paper, quick, charcoal, spring, satisfying, varied... So many separate, contrasting flavors can be found in one dish. My favorite dish, bún chả, has crisp, cool lettuce, cilantro, julienned carrots and cucumber underneath room-temperature vermicelli noodles, charcoal-cooked pork tenderloin, tiny, crispy fried onions and chopped peanuts, with spicy, sweet fish sauce to pour over all. Each forkful produces a slightly different flavor.
Then there's the Vietnamese-French lovechild, bánh mì, a rice-and-wheat flour baguette sandwich filled with pickled vegetables, jalapenos, and that charcoal-cooked, thinly sliced pork tenderloin. The sauce is pate' and mayonnaise, or pate' and bright yellow butter, with a choice of additional sauces, ranging from kinda-spicy to melt-your-face-off, to pour over. The combination and juxtaposition of the two culinary worlds is divine and everything you could hope for: Light and heavy, fresh and rich, sharp and luxurious, herbs and meat, summer and winter.
Since the baguette is made with rice flour and wheat flour, it's lighter than most. In other words, it won't bog down the flavors of the sandwich, this delightful street food, and, ahem, it also won't cut the roof of your mouth. (One of my college roommates seriously injured herself on a French baguette once in a certain well-known sandwich and soup place. No, seriously, the upper piece of that hard bread went in between her gum and tooth... it was not pretty.)
And did I mention the sandwich is only $2.00? Yes, you read that right - two small bucks for one amazing 8" piece o'heaven. So you should go... and witness the birth of what might be the world's most perfect food! That reminds me, it's lunch time...
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