Weekly Dish

To celebrate our Mardi Gras vacation from school (we’re off until Thursday!), I decided I should make a meal using the rich culinary heritage of southern Louisiana. Crawfish season is well underway here–they usually become widely available in January–so they seemed an obvious choice. Having already learned how to make the more traditional etouffee, I wanted to try something a little different.

When I worked at the Brick-Oven Cafe in Jackson, we served a crawfish pasta dish that was one of our most popular. The sauce was laden with cream, butter, and cheese, and I didn’t want anything quite that heavy, but the distinct Louisiana flavoring, I remembered, came from the combination of the crawfish and the Cajun-spiced ham called tasso.

After finding tasso in the deli at my neighborhood grocery store, David and I set out for the famous fish market here in town, Tony’s. This was our first trip there, and it was quite an experience. We entered a loud, concrete-floored room and met a tank of fresh lobsters on our left and catfish swimming in water-filled troughs on our right. On the back wall are two counters–on the left side you can buy already-prepared dishes like crawfish pie and jambalaya, and on the right, you buy crawfish, shrimp, and other fresh fish. I wanted to buy the crawfish live, so that we could boil them ourselves, but only the already-boiled ones were available.

To make the pasta, I peeled the crawfish, tossing the heads and tail shells into a large stockpot, and the tail meat into a separate bowl. I boiled the shells with a lemon and salt to make stock, and then gathered the other ingredients to make the sauce.

Two tricks make this dish full of flavor: the first is that you cook the tasso in a little olive oil in the pot you are going to use for the roux. The ham gives off its spicy flavor and provides a little bit of fat so you don’t have to use so much butter. The second trick is to boil the pasta in equal parts water and crawfish stock. The stock is rich with the spice from the crawfish shells and imparts that flavor to the noodles.

The results were delicious, if I do say so myself. The ridges in the rigatoni provided the perfect place for the sauce to stick, and the consistency of the sauce worked well to evenly coat the crawfish, ham, and noodles. Add a piece of crusty bread and a glass of dry white wine. . .and we had ourselves a very happy Monday-before-Mardi Gras indeed.

Cajun Crawfish Pasta

3 pounds crawfish, cooked
1 lemon
1 pound rigatoni
1 t. olive oil
1/2 pound tasso
2 T. butter
1 T. olive oil
1/4 cup flour
1 yellow onion
3/4 cup chopped tomatoes
1 T. Kosher salt
2 cups stock

For the stock: Shell the crawfish, piling the heads and shells into a large stockpot. (Reserve the tail meat). Add a quartered lemon and a palmful of salt and cover with water. Bring to a rolling boil, reduce the heat, and simmer for at least 20 or 30 minutes (the longer you simmer, the more flavorful the stock will be). Strain off the liquid and discard the solids.

Cook the pasta in equal parts stock and water (I used 2 cups of each for a pound of rigatoni). Drain when al dente and set aside.

Heat a teaspoon of olive oil in a large pot or skillet over medium (I used the same pot I cooked the noodles in). Add the ham and cook, stirring until the pieces are a golden brown, about 10 minutes. Remove the ham, but reserve the fat. Add 1 tablespoon of olive oil and 2 tablespoons of butter. When the butter has melted, stir in the flour. Cook over medium-low, stirring, until the roux turns a light brown. This step took me about 10 minutes. Add the chopped onion and stir to coat with the roux. Cook over medium until very soft, 15-18 minutes. Add the chopped tomatoes and cook for another couple of minutes. Season with salt.

Stir in 2 cups of stock and cook, stirring, until smooth. Stir in the crawfish tails, the ham, and the pasta. (Note: If you want the pasta to be saucier, you can always add more stock; I wanted a thick consistency that would coat the noodles and meats rather than a thin sauce.) Cook for about a minute until everything is nicely blended and warmed through. Serve immediately.

My love of all things Ina is no secret to those who know me well. I have learned much about cooking from the Barefoot Contessa, and her cookbooks remain my most-often referenced.

For Christmas, my dear sister-in-law, who shares my love of the Contessa, gave me Barefoot in Paris. The reason I haven’t posted about it yet is because I believe in getting to know a cookbook before I commit to a full-blown evening with it. Call me old-fashioned, but I tend to take things slowly, reading the book through over a cup of coffee once or twice, getting a feel for what it has to offer, before I settle on my first recipe.

As the weather has been truly stew-worthy and as I thought my foray into French cuisine should start with something simple and classic, I began with Beef Bourguignon. Not the most photogenic dish, mind you, but don’t be fooled by its humble appearance. This stew is well worth the time you must wait for it to come to full flavor and the price of the wine and brandy you must put up to coax the homely beef, carrots, and onions into saucy decadence.

One of the things I most like about the dish is its versatility. The first night we ate it over garlic-rubbed bread, as the Contessa instructs. But rice and egg noodles also made good accompaniments, and thinned with some beef broth, it makes an excellent soup. The best thing about it, though, is that I made it on a Monday and it provided at least 3 other meals for us throughout the week (that’s 8 servings altogether), and I thought it was even better each time I ate it again, which doesn’t usually happen with me and leftovers. For a busy, cold week, this beef stew was my perfect match. Definitely worth the wait.

Beef Bourguignon
adapted from Ina Garten’s Barefoot in Paris (thanks, Hannah!)

Olive oil
1/2 pound bacon, diced
2 1/2 pounds beef chuck, cut into 1-inch cubes
1 pound carrots, sliced thickly on the bias
1 yellow onion, sliced
1 red onion, sliced
4 cloves garlic, chopped
1/2 cup brandy
1 bottle dry red wine
1 14 1/2-ounce can beef broth
1 T. tomato paste
1 T. chopped fresh rosemary (or thyme or sage)
3 T. butter
3 T. flour

Preheat the oven to 250 degrees. Heat a teaspoon or 2 of olive oil in the biggest skillet (with a lid) you’ve got or in a Dutch oven.  Brown the bacon until it’s done, but not crispy. Remove the bacon, but leave the fat; return to medium-high heat. Add the cubes of beef in batches, making sure not to overcrowd the pan. Turn the pieces quickly to brown the meat on all sides; remove to the plate with the bacon.

When all the meat is seared, add the carrots and onions to the pan and cook for about 12-15 minutes, until the onions are golden brown. Add the garlic, and cook for another few minutes. Season with plenty of Kosher salt and cracked pepper. Now comes the fun part. Have the half cup of brandy and a match or lighter. Add the brandy, and light it on fire, standing away from the stove. It will burn off in less than a minute, but it’s fun to watch!

Stir in the beef and bacon pieces, and pour in the wine. Stir and season with salt and pepper. Add the beef broth; make sure that the meat is sufficiently covered. Stir in the tomato paste and rosemary. Bring the mixture to a boil, then pop it into the oven to cook for about an hour.

Remove the pan from the oven and return to the stove top. Mash the butter and flour into a paste, and stir into the stew to thicken. Bring it to a boil; reduce and simmer for about 10-15 minutes. To serve, layer thick slices of crusty bread, rubbed with cut garlic, into bowls; ladle the stew on top.

Note: Ina’s recipe calls for small frozen onions and sauteed mushrooms, to be added after the stew has been cooked in the oven. I was too hungry to slice and cook mushrooms by the time the stew was ready, but I’m sure they would make a nice addition. In my opinion, the stew is onion-y enough, so I left out the frozen ones altogether.

I’ve decided to take my battle with the cold weather to a new level. Making hearty food that warms me and standing in front of a hot stove are certainly tactics worth their salt. There’s nothing quite like the sensation of being warmed from the inside out, as hot or spicy food fills you up and radiates its magic.

But, what if, instead, I asked myself, I simply pretended it wasn’t cold at all? What if I channeled the warmth of spring by cooking springtime food? This sounds crazy, you say. You can’t trick yourself into a season!

Usually I wouldn’t be in favor of such trickery because it would probably mean cooking with out-of-season vegetables, which I don’t like to do (mealy tomatoes, anyone?) But perhaps it’s no accident that citrus is in season in the dead of winter. Perhaps the lemons and oranges on the trees this time of year are meant precisely to coax us out of our cold-weather slumber, to give us a glimpse of the light, bright flavors of spring, to tide us over until warm air returns.
Springtime in Mississippi has always been my favorite time of year. The whole green world seems to come to life in a matter of days, and the temperature is balmy and pleasant, not too hot like summer. This coming spring will be my first in Louisiana, but I’m already a bit disconcerted. The Japanese magnolias and pear trees have already bloomed out, and the azaleas are starting to show their vibrant pinks in full flower. And it’s 40 degrees outside!

Well, instead of complaining about it, I decided to channel the warm spring air from my kitchen. Last spring, as soon as it was warm enough, David and I spent many a Sunday afternoon with our friends Jerrod and Jessie and Lydia in a park not far from our neighborhood. We packed whatever food we had on hand that seemed appropriate, tossed a blanket in the trunk, and headed outdoors.

This pasta salad recipe is one Jessie gave me a long time ago, and it reminds me of springtime, picnics, and most of all, good friends.

Jessie’s Pasta Salad
I made this with leftover chicken from one of David’s Roasted Birds; it comes together in a snap and tastes even better the next day.
1/2 cup sour cream
juice of 1 lemon
6 T. olive oil
2 T. Cavender’s Greek Seasoning
1/2 T. lemon pepper
3 1/2 cups cooked chicken, chopped (I don’t think I use quite that much)
Olives, either a small can of the sliced black ones or a handful of your favorite fancier ones (I used Greek ones this time because I had them)
4 green onions, sliced
1/2 red bell pepper, diced (I omitted this, but I bet the color would be nice)
12-ounce package bow tie pasta

Cook the pasta until al dente; drain and set aside. Mix up the dressing in a large bowl by whisking together th sour cream, lemon juice, olive oil, and seasonings. Toss in the pasta and stir to coat. Add the chicken, green onions, olives, and bell pepper if using. Mix well, until everything is coated with the dressing. Eat immediately, or refrigerate until you’re ready for your (pretend) picnic.

I know I shouldn’t complain about the cold. I live in southern Louisiana for crying out loud. But I tell you, when we bought our house (in July when it was 100 degrees), we didn’t really think to check the insulation or ask about the efficiency of the heating system. Boy do I wish we had. The conventional foundation means we’re up off the ground (cold), and the 1920s windows and doors are not quite as tightly sealed as they were, say, 80 years ago (drafty and cold). Plus, it’s humid, which makes the cold colder.

And I, friends, am not a cold weather kind of girl.

The cold affects my culinary senses one of two ways: either I crave standing in front of the hot stove making something hearty and satisfying or I simply want to stay in bed, food or not (it’s really the only warm place in our house besides in front of the stove).

Fortunately for David, I’m coming out of the stay-in-bed-with-my-books-and-computer slump and working towards spending as much time in front of the stove as possible.

This soup is an old standby, and it hits the hot spot on both counts: spice and temperature. The soup is rich and garlicky, thick with the tomato puree and chunky because of the chopped ones. After a big bowl of this (and the time I spend cooking it) I sometimes can even take my coat off and not be freezing.

But only sometimes.

Spicy Tomato Soup

4 slices bacon
1 yellow onion, chopped
6-8 cloves garlic, chopped
1 28-ounce can crushed tomatoes
1 16-ounce can chopped tomatoes
1-2 t. Kosher salt
2 cups chicken stock or canned broth
1/4 t. cayenne pepper
Cracked black pepper
Half and half or heavy cream (optional)

Cook the bacon in a large pot until brown and crispy. Remove with a slotted spoon and set aside. Cook the onion in the bacon fat over medium-high heat for about 5 minutes, until just tender. Add the garlic, and cook for another 5-8 minutes, until both are very soft and the garlic is beginning to turn golden. Salt and pepper well. (I don’t measure my salt, but with soup, I’ve found that if you season as you go, instead of all at once at the very end, you’ll end up with a nicely enhanced flavor, rather than a salty soup.) Stir in the crushed tomatoes, then add the chopped ones and their liquid. Add the broth, and season again. Bring the soup to a simmer,then reduce the heat and add the cayenne. Taste and adjust seasonings if needed. The soup is ready to serve at this point, but I usually leave mine on the stove on low heat for a while, to let the flavors mingle a little longer. When ready to serve, spoon into bowls and top with a few drops of half and half or cream and a crumble of bacon. Focaccia bread makes an excellent vehicle for dipping, if you’re so inclined. This soup could easily be vegetarian: substitute olive oil or butter for the bacon fat and vegetable broth for the chicken stock.
This recipe is my submission to this week’s ARF Tuesdays over at Sweetnicks.

I am not a lover of controversy. In fact, I hate confrontation of all kinds. Probably one of the main reasons I did not make a very good middle school teacher, in fact, was my reluctance to incite any ill feelings in my (12-year-old) students by confronting them. (They, of course, did not practice the same kind of restraint). This personality is much better suited for college teaching; I have had to have the occasional confrontation with a student, but very seldom.

Due to my non-confrontational-ness, I have been hesitant to post about or respond to any of this week’s food blogging controversy (involving this article about food blogging in Food and Wine magazine).

The sandwich pictured above has cheese on it, though, and it is, in fact, what I had for dinner last night, which is usually what I write about. Those of you who read regularly know why I write this blog, and it certainly isn’t to impress any professional journalist. I did my stint with a glossy magazine, and frankly, I’ll take writing about real food that real people might eat and cook any day. And, when I’m looking for writing about food to read, or recipes to use, I follow the same principles.

Take this Philly Cheese Steak sandwich, for instance. Earlier in the week, I made pizza dough, and baked a round of focaccia bread with what I had leftover. So, exhausted when I got home from class at 8 pm last night, I made a quick supper by slicing up some sweet potato fries to go in the oven, and then sauteeing some red onions, adding some thinly sliced steak, and stirring in some cubed cheddar cheese to melt. Is dumping this mixture on the focaccia and serving it with the fries (on a paper plate, to boot) worthy of professional food magazine snobbery?

No, and that’s exactly why I’m posting it. Because I simply don’t buy into the dichotomy: the choices cannot be reduced to either frozen already-prepared dinners or fancy-schmancy food that takes hours and hours. There is a happy medium: good, simple, not-processed food that anyone can make at home.

That space is the one this blog seeks to fill, and if, by entering into that space, someone finds something worth making for dinner, then I consider it well worth my time. I hope it’s been worth yours too.
Tagged: Pete Wells Loves Cheese Sandwiches

Don’t get me wrong. I love chocolate as much as the next girl. But really and truly, fruit is where my heart is. Usually, if given the choice, I pick lighter, brighter fruity desserts over dark, rich chocolate ones. It doesn’t mean I won’t pick chocolate occasionally, or even that I don’t have serious chocolate cravings every now and again–I do. But by and large, the simplest, fruit-flavored sweets are the ones that win me over.

Lemon curd has had me hooked from the day we first met, in my kitchen in Jackson several years ago. I was working as the editor of a regional magazine, a job that required an arsenal of skills I didn’t know I had when I was hired (like knowing how to spell 27 varieties of lace for the bridal edition), and I volunteered to make lemon curd for a photo shoot. I don’t even know that I’d ever had it before, and I was quite intimidated by all the zesting and juicing of the lemons. But once I’d made it through all 6 lemons and the curd had arrived at the right consistency, the velvety substance had me swooning.

I could, given the chance, consume large quantities of lemon curd with a spoon, all by itself, and be quite content. But I love it most of all with strawberries. The tangle of tart and sweet, butter and sugar, berry and citrus makes my heart flutter and my tastebuds melt. And if the lemons I curd just happen to be Meyer lemons and the strawberries the first of the season, well, that’s what I have to call love. Pure and simple.

The only thing more delicious to me than this dessert is life with my sweet husband. May your Valentine’s Day bring you such happiness too!

Simple Lemon Curd
1 1/2 cups sugar
5 large eggs
Juice and zest of about 6 regular lemons or 4 Meyer lemons (the juice should equal about a cup to a cup and a half)
1/4 cup butter, cut into pieces

In a heavy-bottomed saucepan, whisk the eggs, sugar, juice, and zest together vigorously, until well-blended. Cook slowly over low heat, stirring constantly, until the mixture thickens. You MUST keep stirring, or the eggs will cook unevenly and curdle (you don’t want that!). This process usually takes about 15-20 minutes, so be prepared to stir for awhile (I usually pull up a bar stool and put a book in my lap). When it’s done, it should easily coat a spoon. Then, remove it from the heat and stir in the butter until it melts. The mixture will thicken more on refrigeration. It will keep in the fridge for a couple of weeks in a tightly sealed container. Of course, it never lasts that long at our house! Spoon over berries, cake, toast, your Valentine…whatever suits your fancy.

This recipe is this week’s submission to ARF Tuesdays over at Sweetnicks.

Apologies for my long absence–life has taken over.We have managed to eat here and there in the midst of that life, so this week I hope to share more of the busy-life dinners that have become so much a part of our routine. One of the ways I’m surviving this tornado of grading papers, writing, reading, discussing, tutoring, planning, committee-sitting, and teaching is by spending a little time in the kitchen to prepare for (at least) two meals at a time. This focaccia recipe doubles as a homemade pizza crust, and the dough is freezable. If I make two batches at once, then I have two nights of pizza and two nights of sandwiches (look for it to appear on Thursday or Friday as part of the cheese sandwich protest movement), plus some leftover to accompany soup or salad.

Having dinner on the table every night for me is not a matter of culinary brillance but of efficient time management: this bread recipe is one of my secrets. For this pizza, I topped it with glorious Meyer lemons, which the lovelies Rorie and Darla have both waxed poetic about in recent weeks (and if you are unfamiliar with these huge, thin-skinned, most flavorful of lemons, please go and read their posts about them), garlic, jalapeno peppers, and plenty of good olive oil. The topping sings with a zippy tart spice that suits the smooth, mild focaccia in perfect pizza harmony.

And, if you’re lucky, you’ll have a piece or two leftover to grab for lunch the next day.

Basic Foccacia Bread/Pizza Dough

1 pkg. yeast
1 t. sugar
2 cups very warm water (like for a bath)
5 cups flour (I use 3 cups all-purpose and 2 cups bread flour)
2 t. Kosher salt, plus more to sprinkle on top
2 T. olive oil, plus more for the top

In the bowl of a electric mixer fitted with a dough hook, stir the yeast, water, and sugar together. Let the mixture stand for about 5 minutes; it should be fizzy on top. Add the flour, salt, and olive oil. Knead with the dough hook for several minutes. The dough should come together in a ball and start trying to climb out of the bowl. Let it knead like this for a few more minutes. Knead with your hands for a minute more, working out any knots of flour. (A trick here: coat your hands with olive oil.) The dough should feel smooth and elastic. Return to the bowl, cover, and let it rise in a warm place (I put it in my pantry) for at least an hour. At this point, you have a few options: get it ready to bake, refrigerate if you’re planning to use within a few days, or freeze it for a later use.

To bake as focaccia: divide the dough in half and form into rounds. Place on cookie sheets and allow to rest for about 15 minutes, covered. Preheat the oven to 475 degrees. Dimple the dough with your fingers, drizzle olive oil on top, and spinkle with Kosher salt (and chopped rosemary if you so desire). Bake for 10-12 minutes, until the top is just beginning to turn golden.

For the Meyer Lemon Pizza:

2 Meyer lemons, thinly sliced and seeds removed
4 cloves garlic, thinly sliced
2 jalapeno peppers, thinly sliced
2 cloves garlic, crushed
2 sprigs rosemary, minced
Zest of one lemon
Olive oil
Parmesan cheese

Preheat the oven to 475 degrees. Heat about 2 tablespoons of olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Add the lemon slices. Cook for about 10 minutes, turning occasionally until the rinds begin to soften. Add the pepper slices and garlic, and cook for 10 minutes more, or until the garlic and pepper are very soft. Stir frequently to make sure the garlic doesn’t brown.

Spread one half of the dough thinly over a cookie sheet, stretching it with your hands. You may have to be forceful, but try not to tear it or leave any holes. Drizzle the dough with olive oil, salt, the crushed garlic, lemon zest, and minced rosemary. Bake for 5 minutes. Remove from the oven, and spread the lemon topping evenly over the dough. Grate Parmesan cheese (about 1/2 cup?) evenly over the pizza. Bake for 10 minutes more.

Refrigerate the other half of the dough, freeze it, or bake it as bread to have the rest of the week.

Pasta is such a staple around here that it’s hard for me to remember whether I’ve shared certain pasta recipes or not. Several are good solid stand-by dishes–I’ve made them so often no recipe is necessary, and I know they will turn out to our liking.

This sausage pasta is one such dish. But before I convince you of how good it is, I have to tell you something about it. Are you ready? Here comes my confession:

The original recipe for this pasta comes from Rachael Ray (gasp!)

Are you still with me? Okay, so the food community seems to love Rachael or hate her (and my southern aunts are among the hate crowd), but I am completely ambivalent. Do I like some of her cooking ideas? Yes. Do I dislike some of her cooking ideas? Yes. Do I think she’s a culinary genius? No. But I don’t remember her ever claiming to be one.

In all fairness to the 30-minute meal queen, I picked up several useful tips from watching her show when I was a new wife, working a stressful full-time job, and trying to learn to cook edible meals. This pasta dish comes from that phase of my life, and I still really like it. For those of you who count yourselves among the Rachael-loathing readers, I’ll try to write my recipe instructions in such a way that could not possibly come across as obnoxious, and I’ll try to leave out measurements like “a big glug.” But I must give credit where it’s due. Love Rachael Ray? Hate Rachael Ray? I really don’t care. But this pasta is good, fast, and super easy. So there.

The Anisette or Pernod is probably not something you normally have on hand, but I can find it pretty cheap, so I just keep a bottle just for this dish. The flavor enhances the sweet licorice of the fennel in a way I can’t imagine anything else would. Oh, and if you’ve never cooked with fennel, please try it. I don’t much like it raw–too bitter–but it has a lovely sweetness when cooked that I find fresh and unique. It’s actually fennel month over at A Veggie Venture, so if you’re in the mood to try this feather-topped vegetable, head over there for Alanna’s round-up of fennel recipes. And, of course, if you’d prefer a slower, less committed introduction, this pasta might be just the thing to win you over. It did me.

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My mom has been making this breakfast casserole for as long as I can remember. For baby showers, brunch, or simply for a nice Saturday breakfast, this recipe is a simple way to feed a lot of people. I remember Mom often making it the day before she needed to take it somewhere, so the morning of whatever event we were attending or hosting, all she had to do was tuck it in the oven.

The key to the flavor, in my opinion, is the sausage. My favorite version is with Jimmy Dean maple-flavored breakfast sausage, but I’ve had a difficult time finding it in the grocery store here. When I made the casserole over the holidays for my sister-in-law and her parents, I added a tablespoon of maple syrup to the sausage as I cooked it. Not quite the same, but still good.

Once the sausage is cooked, it’s really just a matter of assembly. Shred the bread, beat the eggs, layer everything into a casserole, and you’re all set. With fresh fruit and a cup of coffee, this breakfast is hard to beat, especially if you have company coming. My one caution is not to be tempted to overdo it on the cheese: the texture is light and fluffy, so you don’t want to weigh it down. Other than that, I find this to be a pretty no-fail recipe. Plus, it makes me think about my mom. Isn’t she cute?

Mom’s Breakfast Casserole

1 lb. maple-flavored breakfast sausage
9 eggs
2 cups milk
1 1/2 tsp. ground mustard
1 small loaf French bread
3/4 cup shredded cheddar cheese
Salt and pepper

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Cook and drain the sausage. Grease a 3-quart rectangular casserole dish and line the bottom with shredded French bread (I just tear it into small pieces with my hands). Beat the eggs and milk together; add the ground mustard. Season with salt and pepper (I use about 1/2 tsp. of each). Spread the sausage on top of the bread; pour the eggs evenly over. Top with the cheese, and bake for about an hour.