Weekly Dish

So it’s no secret in my family that I am not a veggie-lover. I was a pretty picky eater as a child, turning my nose up at all sorts of good-for-you vegetables. I am doing better in my grown-up days, but my ventures into cooking veggies have been rather limited. I know what I like, so I stick with that (sweet potatoes, anyone?). But those crazy food bloggers out there have been raving about vegetables in such poetic ways that I think I’ve been entranced.

Whether convinced by Alanna, who cooks a vegetable EVERY DAY, or Stephen, who waxed eloquent about them for nearly the whole month of November, I bought some brussels sprouts at the grocery store on Monday. I already planned to serve roasted squash with the steaks we were having last night, so I thought the addition of some green could hardly hurt. If I ate them, anyway. David was skeptical. Although I don’t have any bad memories of brussels sprouts, he doesn’t like them. Or so he said. So I only bought a few, about a dozen, and decided we’d at least give them a try.

Learning to roast vegetables is one of the things that began to turn around my veggie-hating ways. Ina Garten’s simple, simple method did wonders for my veggie-cooking habits. She says: buy the freshest vegetables, toss them with olive oil and a good bit of Kosher salt and cracked pepper, and roast them at a high heat (400-450) until the outsides are crisp and browned and the insides tender. Most vegetables I enjoy eating these days come in this roasted packaging.

So I found Stephen’s recipe for Roasted Brussels Sprouts with Apples and Onions, modified it a bit based on what I had in the kitchen, and decided the little sprouts could just go into the oven after the squash had been cooking for an hour or so.

To prepare the squash, I roast two at a time, so I can serve some for dinner as a side dish and have enough leftover for soup later on. I also like to pair butternut and acorn squash, instead of using only one. Acorn squash can tend towards the watery side, and butternut squash is usually fleshier, so for a puree, they complement one another nicely. For flavoring, I like to enhance the squash’s sweetness with dark cane syrup. Cane syrup is a little like unsulphured molasses–dark and thick but without the bitter bite to it (and it’s made right here in Louisiana!). Since basalmic vinegar would go in the glaze for the brussels sprouts, I added a drizzle of it to the squash too, and used the syrup in the sprouts’ glaze in place of the brown sugar. These tricks ensure that if my squash accidentally bumps into the brussels sprouts on my plate, all will end well in my mouth. No cacophonous collisions of flavors that don’t play well together.

The steak recipe is one of my Aunt Cindi’s, from the famed Aunt’s Recipe Book. She uses flank steak, but I couldn’t find any at my grocery, so I used what my butcher labels “finger steaks” instead. I think it’s a sirloin cut, sliced into thick, finger-like portions. The cilantro pesto is quick and light and adds a nice bright flavor to the meat without adding significant fat and calories (like a cream sauce does).

See, I’m trying to be healthier? And guess what? We ate it all. And it even tasted good. The brussles sprouts needed the glaze to go down without a fight, but even David said they tasted good. Who knew?

I’ve written up the recipes in order that you have to cook them–the squash needs about an hour and a half in the oven, brussels sprouts about half an hour, and the steak cooks in under 15 minutes.

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Every Christmas season when David and I decide it’s time to break out the decorations, I plan a festive meal to end our day (or days) of decking the house and tree. This one has been a popular celebration dinner for us: it has been known to appear on an anniversary or Valentine’s table. We don’t eat steak very often, so when we do, I like to make it special.

This recipe developed from one I found in Paula Lambert’s The Cheese Lover’s Cookbook. Hers is for a whole beef tenderloin, so I’ve had to do some tinkering with the proportions to get it to come out right for just the two of us. The cut of meat you use depends on your taste and your pocketbook. Filets would of course be best, but they cut into my grocery budget pretty severely. The butcher at our local grocer cuts these little pieces called finger steaks; they are the best steak for the money that I’ve found here, and the portion is just right for us. The recipe is flexible, though; you can substitute whatever cut tastes good to you, you just might have to adjust the cooking time.

The sauce for these steaks is made from roasted poblano peppers, roasted garlic, and mascarpone cheese. The cheese base gives the sauce the perfect melting consistency; you place a dollop on top of the warm steak, and by the time you get the fork to your mouth, it’s melted into a wonderfully smooth texture. I love the spice medley of the dish also; the chile powder, seasoning salt, and cumin has become a regular combination in much of my cooking.

I served the steak with my favorite sweet potatoes and a simple salad of arugula, shaved Parmesan, lemon juice, and olive oil. The potatoes can cook while you prepare the steaks and sauce, and the salad comes together while the steak is cooking. Not complicated, but it tastes like you spent all day in the kitchen!

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Well, faithful readers, the end of the semester is nigh for me–my last essay is due tomorrow afternoon. Until then, I shall have to turn all of my attention on my studies, but I leave you with this quick recipe for BLT pizza. It is a favorite from my old waitressing post in Jackson, the Brick-Oven Cafe, and the red and green I thought appropriate for the season. Plus, I can hardly imagine better study food than pizza. Here’s the recipe:

BLT Pizza

Prepared pizza crust dough or shell

8 slices bacon, cooked

Ranch salad dressing

4 Roma tomatoes, diced

1 cup of chopped green onions

2 cups shredded mozzarella cheese

1/2 cup grated Parmesan

Romaine lettuce, arugula, or other greens

Preheat oven to 475. Once crust has been properly prepared, drizzle the surface with Ranch dressing, spreading to coat. You will want a thin layer over the whole crust, so the amount depends on how large your pizza is. Crumble bacon and sprinkle evenly across pizza. Follow with the chopped tomatoes and green onions. Sprinkle cheeses on top last; bake until the crust is golden and the cheese melted, about 10 minutes. To serve, top each slice with shredded lettuce or arugula and drizzle with a tiny bit of dressing.

When we have guests for dinner, I always know in the back of my mind that I should rely on a tried-and-true recipe, something that I am certain will turn out well. Do I ever do that? No, of course not. I usually intend to, but then at the last minute, I decide to try something new.

Those exact circumstances created the inspiration for this Christmas-Stuffed Sirloin, so-named because of the red and green of the filling. I first made this stuffed steak when Jessie and Jerrod were in town, and it turned out to be a great company dish. It’s not so much trouble that you spend all afternoon in the kitchen but elegant enough to feel special. And, it tastes really, really good.

The only part that takes some time and concentration is preparing the meat, but I imagine you could get your butcher to do that part for you (I just wasn’t exactly sure when I bought mine what I planned to do with it!) I served it with Garlic-Roasted Sweet Potatoes and an arugula salad with Sara Foster’s Caesar dressing. Here’s how you make the steak:

Christmas-Stuffed Sirloin

3 lbs. sirloin

Olive oil

Salt and pepper

4 ounces goat cheese

4 T. basil pesto

1 T. olive oil

2 T. sun-dried tomatoes, chopped

2 t. chopped Kalamata olives

Flour

Preheat the broiler. If your steaks are more than 1/8-inch thick, you have two options. Either, you can pound them flat with a heavy-bottomed skillet, or you can butterfly them by slicing through the middle. Mine were especially thick, so I opted for the latter. You need a really sharp knife to make this work; one of mine did not turn out so pretty. Either way, once you get the meat thinned out, then tenderize it by beating it with the small end of a beer or Coke bottle (this is my dad’s technique; I’m sure there are many others). Rub olive oil into the tenderized meat; salt and pepper both sides. For the filling, mix together the pesto, olive oil, tomatoes, and olives until well-combined. Spread evenly over the ugliest side of each steak, and then roll up, longest side to longest side. Dust the outside of the steaks with flour; shake off any excess. Tie with kitchen string. Heat a large oven-proof skillet on high heat with just a touch of olive oil coating the bottom. When the skillet is very hot (a drop of water sizzles at the bottom), add the steak rolls, turning quickly, just to brown on all sides. Add the skillet to the broiler, and cook briefly, about 2-3 minutes per side. Slice to serve. Serves 4.

A few weeks ago, my baby sister came to visit for the weekend. We had a great time while she was here, and for her send-off brunch on Sunday after church, I made fried chicken and biscuits. Fried chicken is really not hard to make; it just takes the willingness to get grease all over you and your kitchen. But I love it nonetheless, and I particularly like to make it for people I love.

When David and I visited his brother and wife in LA this summer, we had a southern-themed party for their friends. Among many other things, I made this chicken with Comeback Sauce, and it was a big hit. You can make the chicken without the spices in the flour, but I really like the way they pair with the flavors in the dressing. According to Mississippi chef and cookbook author Robert St. John (famous around these parts for what must be one of the best-named cookbooks ever), Comeback Sauce is an original Mississippi creation. Maybe that’s why my native Mississippi family makes it so well.

This recipe belongs to my Aunt Prissy. My family uses it for a number of things–to dip fried chicken, to spread on Saltine crackers, to dress our salad. According to legend, the sauce is so-named because it will keep you coming back for more. I don’t know if that’s true, but it sounds right to me.

Here’s the recipe for the chicken and Comeback Sauce; you can find the biscuit recipe here.

But first, here is my lovely sister, with whom I hope to share many, many good meals in the future. Come back soon Elizabeth! A recipe for the apple pie she made for dessert is soon to follow…!

PAPRIKA-SPICED FRIED CHICKEN

6 boneless chicken breasts

Buttermilk, to cover

Salt and pepper

1 c. flour

1/2 c. yellow cornmeal

1 T. paprika

1 t. seasoning salt

1 t. cumin

1 t. chili powder

Cut chicken into bite-sized pieces, salt and pepper, and soak in buttermilk for at least an hour (or overnight). To fry, heat about 1 cup of safflower or canola oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Dip chicken pieces in flour mixture and fry in batches until golden brown, about 10-15 minutes per batch. Be careful not to let chicken brown too quickly; remove from skillet to paper towels to drain when golden brown and crispy.

MISSISSIPPI COMEBACK SAUCE

2-3 cloves garlic

Half a sweet yellow onion 

1 c. mayonnaise

1/4 c. ketchup

1/4 c. chili sauce

2 T. Worcestershire sauce

1 t. yellow mustard

Kosher salt

Ground black pepper

Tabasco (a couple of dashes)

In a blender or food processor, chop the garlic and onion until finely minced. Add remaining ingredients; blend until well-combined.

This is what my Aunt Prissy had to say about this week’s theme of comfort food: “Cooking is definitely more than just an activity we do to satisfy the need of hunger. It is saying I love you, I’m sorry, Congratulations, you’ll do better next time, I understand.” I couldn’t agree more.

Chicken Pot Pie is a dish I have made often to say exactly those kinds of things; it’s place in the comfort food category has as much to do with the comfort I am giving away by making it as with the comfort I receive from doing so. Whether for a friend who has a new baby, a church pot-luck dinner, new neighbors, or the loss of a loved one, Chicken Pot Pie has been a reliable staple. It’s a safe-enough dish to satisfy even the pickiest of eaters, and kids usually like it too (especially if you cut the carrots into small enough pieces). Also, it goes a long way if you use a whole chicken, and most people I know have only had the frozen kind, so a homemade one is a real treat (sad, I know, but true!).

Different takes on the basic idea of chicken pie abound–Sara Foster and Ina Garten both make a version topped with biscuits, some people use puff pastry, other people use celery or green peas or potatoes or heavy cream. My way is pretty unfussy. When I make it for just us, for dinner, I make this recipe in a black cast-iron skillet, which dirties only one dish if the chicken is cooked already (the dishwasher around here really likes this recipe for that reason alone!) To take somewhere, I double the recipe, cook the filling in my biggest saucepan, and then dump it all in a big casserole. The key to its tasting really, truly homemade, I think, is in the stock, which imparts a richer chicken flavor than plain canned broth (but that works in a pinch too).

I’m going to give you the steps, from stock to finished pie, but I would never do this all in the same day. Usually, when I roast a chicken, I make stock from the carcass and reserve any leftover meat. This pie makes perfect use of both. If you don’t have leftovers from a whole chicken, you can always cook breast meat in water with lemons, garlic, onions, and a carrot, and make a stock that way. However you make your chicken pie, I hope you will serve it to someone who could use a plateful of comfort. In my experience, this does just the trick.

Chicken Skillet Pie

To make stock:

In a roasting pan (I use the same one the chicken was originally roasted in), roast the bones and leftover drippings at 400 degrees for about an hour, until the bones are a deep, dark brown. Scrape everything from the roasting pan into a large stockpot; cover with water. Add a lemon, quartered, an onion, quartered, and a few cloves of garlic. Salt and pepper well. Bring to a boil, and then simmer for a long time (I never time it; I just let it sit all afternoon). Strain the solids and skim off any visible fat. You can keep it refrigerated if you plan to use it soon, or freeze.

To make pie:

1/2 T. butter

1/2 T. olive oil

1 large yellow onion, diced

3 cloves garlic, sliced very thinly

1 cup sliced mushrooms

1 cup diced carrot

1 T. butter

1 T. flour

1 1/2 - 2 cups stock

1 1/2 cups cooked chicken meat, chopped

1 refrigerated pie crust

Preheat the oven to 425 degrees. In a large skillet, heat the oil and butter over medium-low. Add the onions and garlic, and cook until they begin to soften, about 4 minutes. Add the mushrooms and carrots and cook, stirring, until all the vegetables are very, very tender, about 20 minutes. Salt and pepper. Scrape the vegetables to the sides of the skillet, leaving the middle of the skillet open. Add the butter and flour, and mash together quickly to form a paste. Once they have combined, then stir into the vegetables to coat. Add the stock a little at a time to thicken, stirring constantly. You don’t want it to be too thick because it will lose some of its liquid in the oven, but you don’t want a runny pie either. The liquid should begin to coat your spoon. Stir in the chicken and remove from the heat. Cut the pie crust into long strips, laying them on top of the pie in a lattice pattern. (Of course, this is optional; I just think it looks pretty!) Bake for about 35-40 minutes, or until the crust is brown and the filling is bubbly. These quantities can easily be adjusted depending on how much chicken you have and how many people you plan to feed. This recipe easily serves 4.

The Aunts’ Recipe Book, a collection of Ellis family recipes I received when I got married, contains dozens of notecards with each of my Mississippi aunts’ handwriting on them. I love to look closely at each card to see what it tells me about its author. Aunt Cindi’s cards are big and bright; they have fun stickers in each corner and the cookbook from which the recipe came. Aunt Prissy’s tend to be very opinionated and a little on the bossy side, but very precise. Aunt Em’s recipes are written on the back of whatever she had handy at the moment; many of the ones in this book are scratched on the back of very old Christmas cards featuring her boys in matching sailor suits (they’re almost all teenagers now!) Aunt Jennifer’s recipes, for the most part, are simple and straightforward, occasionally adorned with a comment about what the recipe means to her and her family.

When I first started cooking, Aunt Jennifer’s recipe for White Chili was approachable, but not so easy that it didn’t feel like “real” cooking. I find her style to be like that: she believes that food doesn’t have to be fussy to be good, and that if more people learned to cook simple, satisfying meals, we’d have many more families sitting down to home-cooked meals, instead of to pizza or McDonald’s.

This chili is a little like a spiced-up chicken soup, heartier because of the beans, and edgier because of the red pepper and cumin. I love to make a pot of this soup on a dreary Saturday or Sunday afternoon and let it sit for a while. As with most chili recipes, the longer the flavors have to mingle, the better it tastes. I always stir in a few extra thoughts of Aunt Jennifer, for whom I was named, who always served my noodles on top of my spaghetti when I was a kid and never told my mom that I asked her to, and with whom I share a love of teaching and good books. As a matter of fact, this soup goes great with a good book for lunch, if you happen to have one on hand.

Aunt Jennifer’s White Chili

1 pound white navy beans (Aunt Jen says canned is ok, so I don’t argue. Just don’t tell Aunt Prissy. I don’t drain them, either)

2 pounds chicken breasts, or 2-3 cups of cooked chicken meat (I used the leftovers from our Thanksgiving roast chicken)

6 cups chicken broth or stock (I used a combination of canned and homemade)

1 T. olive oil

2 med. onions (I like the sweet yellow ones in this dish)

4 cloves garlic, minced

2 t. cumin

1 t. oregano (I used fresh because I have it in my backyard)

1/4 t. ground cloves

1/4 t. cayenne pepper

Salt to taste

If using uncooked chicken, cook it in water on the stove until all the meat turns white and comes apart easily with a fork. In a large pot, cook the onions and garlic in olive oil until very, very soft. Chop the chicken into small pieces; add everything else to the pot. Simmer for at least 30-45 minutes, preferably longer. Just be careful not to let it boil, or you’ll lose liquid. Serve with any or all of the following garnishes: salsa, sour cream, Monterey Jack cheese, tortillas, chopped oregano or cilantro.

P.S. I realize that I am not abiding by the days on the menu, but it’s been one of those weeks already. I promise to post the Chicken Pie and Risotto recipes later in the week!

I really want to start making really autumn-ish dishes and telling you all about how warming and comforting they are. I’ve been trying to get in the spirit of the season. See, I made soup yesterday? But here’s the thing. It’s in the eighties still. I am wearing t-shirts and flip-flops to class. How am I supposed to assume my place stirring a big steaming pot of soup when I have the air conditioning running? I couldn’t fight it anymore this week…salad it is (or was).

To dress my salad appropriately for the season, I started by gathering the greens right from my backyard. David’s first official vegetables in our garden include an assortment of greens, but we aren’t sure exactly what all of them are. As best we can tell, there’s some kind of curly lettuce, a red-leaf one, kale, and a bright green one with small round leaves (baby lettuce? butter lettuce? David doesn’t remember).

Grilling seemed a good option since it had cooled off a little bit by dusk, so I marinated some chicken breasts in a sweet and sour mixture, and David grilled them for me. For the dressing, I wanted it to be warm to wilt the greens a little bit. So I started by frying some bacon, and then added shallots, pecans, and some diced pear. It turned out to be a lovely combination of flavors, and the warm dressing made it feel more like a fall dish (without the my-standing-over-a-hot-stove-for-a-really-long-time part). After the chicken is cooked, the salad comes together really quickly. Here’s how it worked:

SWEET-HOT GRILLED CHICKEN SALAD

For the chicken:

2 pounds chicken breasts

3/4 cup soy sauce

1/2 cup rice vinegar (cider vinegar would work too)

2 T. dark cane syrup or molasses

2 T. sesame oil

1 T. fish sauce

2 T. hot chili sauce (I use Sambal, a Thai version)

Juice of 1 lemon

Mix all; marinate for a few hours or overnight. Grill chicken over medium flame.

For the Warm Balsamic Vinaigrette:

4 pieces bacon

2 shallots, minced

1/2 pear, diced

1/2 cup pecan pieces

1/4 cup balsamic vinegar

1 t. dark cane syrup or molasses

1/2 t. salt

Cook the bacon in a medium skillet until done; remove. Add the shallots and cook until tender, about 4 minutes. Add the pear and pecans, and cook about 5 more minutes until the pear is very soft. Add the vinegar, syrup, and salt, and cook another minute or two, stirring constantly.

To assemble the salad:

Mixed salad greens, washed and torn

Remaining half of pear, diced

1/2 cup chopped green onions

Spread greens on plate; top with pear, green onions, chicken, and bacon slices. Pour dressing warm on top of salad.

For this month’s Paper Chef competition, hosted by the dynamic duo over at Belly-Timber, contestants were given an unusual assortment of ingredients. Basil, oranges, and fish sauce were randomly selected from the list of nominees; for the final ingredient, Mrs. D and Chopper Dave chose a cuddly one: lamb.

I admit, I was daunted. My inexperience with cooking up Little Bo Peep’s charges gave me pause about participating in the competition this month. And, my sister was in town, and I have a presentation next week, so it would be a busy weekend…the excuses mounted up.

But, Saturday morning on my weekly trip to the Red Stick Market, I stumbled across Mr. and Mrs. Boggs, in from Sugartown, Louisiana, selling none other than the very creatures in question. I chatted with them about the various cuts and preparation methods for a while, and they convinced me to buy a pound of their best seller: lamb sausage! Mr. Boggs promised that I could use it just as I would any other bulk sausage,–not so daunting after all–and just like that, an entry in Paper Chef was a few ingredients away.

Basil still grows abundantly in my backyard (it’s 85 degrees outside here as I write this), and fish sauce is a pantry staple, so I only had to pick up a few oranges, and I’d be on my way.

So…what to do with lamb sausage, basil, oranges, and fish sauce, you ask? Well, stuff them in an acorn squash, of course! Okay, so maybe that idea didn’t come that easily, but at any rate, that’s what I decided to do.

I’ve been meaning to make a big batch of pesto anyway, and the basil-garlic flavor seemed a perfect accompaniment for the sausage. To thicken the filling and add some creaminess, I added bread crumbs and fontina cheese, which melted up nicely. I wanted to use orange pulp for complexity, but I didn’t want the sweetness to overpower the other flavors. So, I added some zest to the pesto and roasted the oranges, scooping out the pulp after the heat had mellowed the sweet acidic flavor just a bit. Fish sauce presented a bit of a challenge. Using it for the fishy flavor wouldn’t work with the lamb, and too much would overwhelm the filling for sure. So, I decided to use it as a substitute for salt. Instead of salting the squash before baking it, I rubbed the inside with fish sauce and some olive oil.

I served the squash with buttermilk basil biscuits and spicy orange marmalade over arugula with oranges, red onions, goat cheese, and a sweet-hot vinaigrette, made with orange marmalade, red wine vinegar, the juice from the roasted oranges, and a tiny bit of fish sauce. The vinaigrette complemented everything so nicely, I ended up drizzling it over the whole plate!

The lamb sausage filling really worked well with the squash: the eating experience involved mouthfuls of creamy, savory filling and sweet, buttery squash flesh, with hints of the sweet heat from the vinaigrette. The spicy bitterness of the arugula provided a strong backdrop for the oranges and red onions, and the spicy marmalade matched up nicely with the buttery flakiness of the biscuits.

All in all, I was happy I ran into Mr. Boggs; otherwise, this Paper Chef would have passed me by, and I would still be contemplating the ethics of eating those who I count before I go to sleep. As a matter of fact, I might have overcome that hurdle altogether: maybe in the coming weeks, you’ll see recipes for Lambsagna or Lamburguine. Who knows?

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