Weekly Dish

Not many people envy the suffocating August heat that cloaks southern Louisiana in a perpetual swirl of steam — of this much, I am sure. But with that steamy heat comes another sort of coat, a wild, hairy, green one. As the sun and rain work their steamy magic, the growing things in these parts seem to go a bit mad. The jasmine vines on our deck appear to grow inches overnight, the basil replenishes its pinched stems within what seem like hours, and the grass erupts in a wild, verdant party every few days or so, despite the best efforts of my lawn-tending husband. The green simply cannot be stopped.

Josie, for her part, is happiest to join right into the green chaos, scampering to the door first thing in the morning, itching to get outside and dig in the dirt. She is so clearly her father’s daughter.

What this means for cooking of course, is that it needs to be both quick (too hot for stove-standing) and alive; our bodies seem to long for food that echoes the green of the ground. One of the simplest ways we’ve captured that greenness lately is with this so-easy preparation for green beans — blanched to slightly soften their crunch, and then tossed with butter, toasted cashews, and honey. Salty and sweet, with that fresh-from-the-garden bite, these beans often find themselves alongside other simply prepared vegetables for a veritable summer garden feast at our house. They also make a lovely heat-of-the-afternoon snack, rewarmed from the fridge, and excellent fodder for a baby learning to explore all kinds of foods.
In any case, I am happy to be taking enough breaks from exam-writing to enjoy the lush end-of-summer growth outside my backdoor, even if just to watch my daughter play in the dirt. I hope one day she will learn to coax living things from it like her dad does. Maybe she’ll even be in charge of our first crop of green beans. Until then, at least she’s happy to eat them.

Green Beans with Cashews and Honey

1 pound fresh green beans
3 T. butter
1/2 cup salted cashews, coarsely chopped
2 T. honey
Coarse salt, to taste

Wash the green beans and snap off the tough ends. Blanch in salted boiling water for just a few minutes, no more than 5. Drain the beans and set aside.

Melt the butter over medium heat, swirling to prevent burning. When it starts to turn the slightest bit golden, add the cashews and cook, stirring, for several minutes, until the nuts are fragrant and beginning to brown. Add the honey, and stir until it melts, another couple of minutes.
Return the beans to the pot, stirring to coat evenly with the sauce. Sprinkle with coarse salt and serve immediately.

–From Come On In! Recipes from the Jackson Junior League, Jackson, MS

One of the most satisfying holiday seasons I’ve had — at least in terms of making things — was the first Christmas after I’d started graduate school. I am a task-oriented person: I get great pleasure out of checking things off of a list, of seeing them finished. Unfortunately, graduate school is a place where many things stay on the to-do list for months and months. Books I want to read linger under the weight of things that have to be read for class, ideas I have for creative writing get lost in the flurry of academic research papers, and even the simple task of figuring out what I want to write about takes a very, very long time.

After a semester of this delayed gratification, I was more than thrilled to get into the kitchen, start a complicated project in the morning, and have it finished by the afternoon. As a matter of fact, if it weren’t for my cooking breaks, I am quite sure I would never, ever have completed a master’s thesis. The ho-hum activity of making dinner took on a new meaning: I would look at a pretty, delicious plate of food as I placed it on the table, and think, “See, I can accomplish something.”

Which is what eventually led me to writing this blog: the delight I gleaned from completed cooking projects I very much wanted from my writing. Now, when I read a finished post that I’ve had at least some time to compose thoughtfully, I feel like I can finish a piece of writing. And that feels good. It even motivates me to get back to work on the 25-page paper waiting on my desktop.

That first Christmas when I learned this about myself, my favorite project to complete were these truffles.

Now, I should warn you: these little gems do not come together in a couple of hours; making truffles is a process. It’s a process I love, especially during the holidays, at the end of a long semester, because you work on them for a bit and then you have an hour break to wrap presents, start another kitchen project, or sit down with a cup of tea and the paper you’ve been working on for weeks before you go on to the next step. And, the finished products are so pretty that by the time I’ve finished a whole batch, I really feel like I’ve accomplished something.

A little box of these makes a great hostess gift if you’re going to a party, or a lovely holiday happy to leave on a co-worker’s desk. I like to wrap them up in parchment paper and place them in a Chinese take-out box: a ribbon and a card, and they’re all set. You don’t want to leave them out if it’s warm, but in colder weather, I’ve found I can leave them in their packaging in my dark, cold laundry room until I’m ready to give them away.

Talk about a sense of accomplishment. When I’m rushing out the door to a holiday function, and I remember that I can open up my laundry room, pull out a gift that I made, and take it with me, I start to feel downright efficient. Unless, of course, I happen to glimpse the piles of laundry at my feet or the mess in the kitchen.

But, hey, a girl can only do so much, and I’ll take my victories when I can get them. Don’t forget to put away at least a few truffles for yourself: a bite of one of these chocolate treats and a hot cup of coffee is sweet victory indeed.

I should have posted these recipes a few weeks ago, when The Passionate Cook hosted a whole event dedicated to truffles, but that was the week of Thanksgiving, and I had too much else going on (but if you want to see a whole host of other truffle recipes, you can check out the round-up here).

This recipe gives endless possibilities: you can flavor the chocolate however you’d like and then proceed with appropriate coatings and decorations. The two versions pictured here, one almond and the other dark chocolate raspberry, get their subtle flavors from almond extract and raspberry liqueur respectively. I also usually make a plain dark chocolate one and coat it with white chocolate, and this year, I’m planning some peppermint ones, flavored with peppermint extract and rolled in crushed peppermint candy.

Chocolate Truffles

24 ounces semisweet chocolate (chocolate chips will work)
6 T. whole milk
6 egg yolks, beaten until pale yellow.
3/4 pound butter (3 sticks)

In the top of a double boiler, combine the chocolate and milk. Stir over medium heat until the chocolate is melted and smooth. Remove from heat, and add the egg yolks immediately, slowly streaming them into the melted chocolate, stirring constantly to keep the egg from solidifying immediately (you don’t want yellow flecks in your chocolate). Cut the butter into pieces, and stir it in until the mixture is shiny and smooth. At this point, you can divide the mixture into batches if you want to experiment with flavors, or use the whole batch to make the same kind of truffle.

For a flavored truffle, stir in one of the following*:
2 T. raspberry-flavored liqueur, like Framboise (Hershey also makes raspberry-flavored chocolate chips, which make a pretty good truffle)
1 T. almond extract (you can also add a spoonful of Amaretto if you have it)
1 T. peppermint extract
1 T. finely grated orange zest

*Depending on how many times you divide the chocolate, these quantities may need adjusting. Add and then taste to get the strength of flavor you want. 

Refrigerate the batches of chocolate for about an hour (you want the chocolate to be pliable enough to work with, but not so soft that it melts all over your hands). Form the chilled chocolate into small balls and place on wax paper-lined trays or cookie sheets. Now, if you aren’t going to coat the truffles in chocolate or white chocolate coating, you can roll them in crushed nuts, candies, or cocoa powder and be done. If you want the smooth, hard outer coating, you’ll need to refrigerate the formed balls for another half-hour or so.

To coat: melt candy coating in a glass bowl (I do it in the microwave). Dip each ball into the coating quickly with a spoon and place on wax paper to cool and harden. For drizzles, melt a different color coating and drizzle away (I used red food coloring and white chocolate coating to get the pink decoration above).

This recipe makes between 2 and 3 dozen truffles, depending on how big you make them.

Dressing (not stuffing) is a staple at my family’s holiday events. My grandmother makes it every year, and every year, the aunts sit around and talk about how somebody needs to learn how to make it like she does (much like all of the other family recipes, there are no official written instructions).

So last Christmas, my sister and I followed Grandmother around the kitchen, snapping photos and scribbling down notes about what she was doing. This year, David’s brother and his wife are sharing Thanksgiving dinner with us, so Hannah and I are attempting to replicate the famous dressing.

I should say a word about southern cornbread dressing: it is not very similar to stuffings of other kinds. It’s more kin to a savory bread pudding, moistened by eggs and stock until it can be pressed into a dish, baked, and cut into squares. The oven browns the top into a lovely crunch, which gives way to a soft cloud of egg-enriched cornbread, flecked with celery, onion, and scallions.

I’m recording Grandmother’s instructions here, as Elizabeth and I observed, but after Hannah and I have attempted to follow them, I promise to update with more specifics. Grandmother’s been doing this so long, she can almost move around the kitchen combining ingredients blindfolded, so quantifying what she was doing was quite a challenge.

Grandmother’s Cornbread Dressing

1 batch cornbread (she makes it with buttermilk, but I don’t have the exact recipe. I’ll post the one Hannah and I use later, but Grandmother says the Jiffy mix works in a pinch)
Half of a bunch of celery
2 yellow onions
Olive oil and butter
Half a bunch of scallions or green onions
6 eggs
1 bag Pepperidge Farm stuffing
A handful of Saltine crackers, crackers
2 1/2 - 3 cups chicken or turkey stock (we roasted a chicken earlier in the week, so we would have homemade)
Salt and pepper

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Heat the oil and butter (enough to properly sweat the vegetables) in a skillet. Dice the celery and yellow onion, and slice the green onion, white and green parts. Saute the celery and onion in the oil and butter over medium-high heat until translucent. Add the green onions and cook for another minute or two.

In a large bowl, crumble up the cornbread. Beat the eggs and mix them in. Dump in the soft veggies, the stuffing mix, and the crushed crackers. Stir with a long-handled wooden spoon until well-combined.

Here comes the tricky part. You have to pour in the stock until the dressing reaches the “right” consistency. This is what it should look like (only half that quantity):

You can pour more stock on top of the dressing as it cooks if it looks like it’s getting to be too dry, but you want to be able to easily mold the mixture into a casserole dish. It should stick together without a problem, but you don’t want it to be soupy.

Press into a casserole, and bake for 45 minutes, or until it browns around the edges.

Recipe courtesy of the cutest, sweetest Grandmother I know (and my cute, sweet sister, Elizabeth, who helped record it):

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

Sometimes I get an uncontrollable urge to fry something. I say uncontrollable because if a girl were to be logical, she might envision herself standing in front of a boiling pot of oil in hundred-degree heat and be able to talk herself into something less, well, hot. Perhaps it’s my southern blood forcing its will right through any sensible notion of health, or comfort. Or perhaps I’ve just eaten one too many salads. Either way, when the urge strikes, nothing will do but to whip up a batch of fried something or the other, and zucchini is what I had in my fridge.

And, because Barbara is collecting recipes that feature local ingredients for this month’s Spice Is Right, I used locally ground spices — cayenne and paprika — in the batter. Both the cayenne and paprika are made from red peppers — one spicy, the other sweet — grown and ground by Papa Tom Bonnecaze Farms, who I see every Saturday morning at the market (they also make the best pepper jelly in town). The zucchini is straight from another Louisiana farmer just down the road, the buttermilk came from a local dairy, so besides the flour, seasoned salt, and oil, this dish is completely south Louisiana. And, of course, as far as techniques go, you can’t get more locally southern than frying.

These crunchy little spears are a cross between fried dill pickles–popular at state fairs around these parts–and some eggplant fries I had once at a restaurant. The zucchini held up nicely–it turns very soft, but doesn’t fall apart–and I love the mild flavor of the vegetable dressed up by the spices in the batter. Comeback sauce would, I’m sure, make a delightful dipping sauce for fried zucchini, but it’s not necessary in my opinion.

After a half-hour of frying up this zucchini, a heck of a mess in my kitchen, what with dribbles of buttermilk, splatters of grease, and bits of uncooked batter strewn from counter top to stove, one bite into the well-seasoned crunchy batter satisfied my craving and assuaged any sense of craziness I’d felt as droplets of sweat dribbled down my forehead during the frying process.

I’m already thinking of other things to fry in these precious weeks before school officially starts, so don’t be surprised if I show up here again with a batter-laden concoction to present to you.

Until, then, here’s the menu for the week and the fried zucchini recipe:

Links:

• David’s Roast Chicken
• Chipotle-Glazed Ribs
• Lemony Spinach

Locally Spiced Fried Zucchini

2 medium zucchini, cut into long, thin, spears
Buttermilk (about 2 cups, maybe less)
2 cups flour
1/2 t. cayenne pepper
2 t. ground paprika
2 t. seasoned salt
Vegetable or canola oil, about an inch deep

Heat about an inch of oil in a large frying pan over medium-high heat.

While the oil is heating up, prepare the zucchini. Place the spears in a large zip-top plastic bag, and add enough buttermilk to immerse the spears. In another zip-top bag, mix together the spices and the flour. When the oil is hot — a drop of water should sizzle and pop when dropped into the pot — transfer some of the zucchini to the flour bag and shake to coat well. Add one spear at a time to the hot oil, being careful not to overcrowd the pan, and fry until golden brown, turning once to ensure even frying. Mine took about 4 minutes per batch. Remove with a slotted spoon, and drain on paper towels. Sprinkle each batch with additional seasoned salt.

Repeat the process until all of the zucchini has been coated and fried. Serve immediately. This recipe makes enough for 4 people as a side, or two hungry people as a combination appetizer/side dish/late-night snack over Scrabble. What can I say? Fried things don’t keep well, and it would be a shame to let such goodness go to waste.

Pesto is a summer staple at our house. In fact, it was so abundant last summer that we named a lurking kitty after it. I’m sad to report that the kitty has disappeared, but the basil pesto has returned in full force.

If you have leftover pesto hanging around your fridge and a bagful of new potatoes that need to be cooked, here’s a quick and simple way to use both. These were so delicious that David and I picked them off the cookie sheet as we were cleaning up the kitchen until they all disappeared.

Pesto Potatoes

6-8 small red-skinned or other new potatoes
1 T. olive oil
2 T. basil pesto
Kosher salt

Preheat the oven to 425 degrees. Spray a cookie sheet with nonstick spray. Cut the potatoes into eighths (about 1-inch chunks), and spread them in an even layer on the cookie sheet. Mix the pesto and oil together; drizzle over the potatoes, and then toss to coat (I use my hands to get all sides of the potatoes evenly coated). Sprinkle with a palmful of salt. Roast in the oven for 45 minutes to an hour, stirring about halfway through. Serves 2 people who have little self-control; 4 who are better behaved.

Wondering how to harvest your basil and make it last until winter? Check out Kalyn’s helpful basil tutorial.

One of my favorite things to do at the end of the week is to open up the produce drawer in my refrigerator and cook what’s left. This vegetable plate represents such a venture: rosemary roasted potatoes, roasted carrots, fresh corn with basil, and chili-spiced Vidalia onion rings.

For the carrots and potatoes, I simply toss them with olive oil, sprinkle liberally with salt and pepper, (and chopped fresh rosemary on the potatoes) and roast in a 425-degree oven until they’re crispy on the outside.

These onion rings are simple too. Just don’t fry too many, they’re quite addictive, and they don’t keep well.

Chili-Spiced Onion Rings
2 medium Vidalia onions, sliced thickly
2 cups buttermilk, or enough to cover the rings
2 cups flour
2 T. corn starch
2 t. chili powder
1 t. paprika
1 t. cumin
1/4 t. cayenne pepper
2-3 cups canola or vegetable oil
Seasoning salt, to taste
Soak thickly sliced rings in buttermilk. Heat oil in a large pot over high heat, deep enough to completely immerse one layer of the rings. In a shallow dish, mix the flour, corn starch, chili powder, paprika, cumin, and cayenne. Dip each ring in the flour mixture to coat. Fry the rings in hot canola or vegetable oil (enough to immerse the rings completely) until brown and crispy. Be careful not to overcrowd the pan. Drain on paper towels, and sprinke with seasoning salt.
Besides the spices, flour, and olive oil, everything on our plate came straight from the Louisiana earth, and I can’t wait to fix seasonal variations of this meal over and over again. Or at least until the fruitful ground takes its next rest.

When I moved into my first apartment, my Aunt Jennifer brought me a basket with a loaf of French bread, a container of homemade mayonnaise, and several Vidalia onions, the ingredients for my very favorite treatment of the sweetest onion of all–the Vidalia.

Aunt Jen has been making what she calls San Francisco bread for as long as I can remember, and I am now carrying on the family tradition. I love to serve this bread to guests because they can never guess just what exactly is on it. I know it might sound strange, but I urge you to try it anyway, especially if you find yourself in possession of a sweet, sweet onion. I’ve not had one unsuccessful attempt to convert doubtful guests.

A few caveats: you must, MUST only attempt this recipe with homemade mayonnaise. I try hard not to be authoritarian about much in my cooking instructions, but for the good of the onion, please do not contaminate its sweet spring freshness with storebought mayo. The results will not be the same. And, I know there are risks for consuming raw eggs. All I can say about that is that my family has lived on homemade mayonnaise for generations, and we’ve all survived. Do with that information what you will.

I served this bread with our paneed catfish (a dusting of Tony Chachere’s cajun seasoning and a few minutes in a inch of olive oil–nothing too complicated about that) and Ivonne’s lemony potatoes (with rosemary instead of oregano and red new potatoes instead of Yukon golds) last night to our dear friend Casey. Everything was yummy, but I love this bread best. Maybe it just reminds me of home.

Aunt Jennifer’s San Francisco Bread
One half of a loaf of French bread

1/2 cup minced Vidalia onion

Homemade mayonnaise (recipe follows)

Kosher salt

Cracked black pepper

Preheat the broiler. Cut the bread in half lengthwise. Spread each half with a thick layer of mayonnaise. Cover with onions; season well with salt and pepper. Broil for a few minutes, until the bread is brown and crusty and the onions are soft. Slice and serve. Serves 4-6.

Homemade Mayonnaise
1 egg

1 T. cider vinegar

Juice of 1 lemon

1/2 t. Kosher salt

1/2 t. paprika

1/4 t. cayenne pepper

3/4 cup salad oil (canola or vegetable or a combination), divided

Place all ingredients in the blender, but start with only 1/4 cup of the oil. After the ingredients are blended, with the motor running, add the remaining oil in a very slow, steady stream. The mayonnaise should emulsify, creating a very thick consistency. The blender should start to spurt and sputter. It will keep in the refrigerator for about a week.

In warmer weather, I have been known to let my husband spend more time standing over the grill than I spend over the stove. I love the smoky flavor a charcoal fire imparts to meat, but I haven’t been very adventurous in my grilling of vegetables.

Last time we grilled chicken, I decided to give veggies a try. I marinated an eggplant and three portabellos in a basalmic-honey mixture, grilled them until tender, and cubed them when they were cool enough to handle. For a quick and easy side dish, I tossed the chopped vegetables with some cubes of fresh mozzarella and a basalmic vinaigrette. I loved the combination of the smoky grilled mushrooms and eggplant and the sweet-tartness of the dressing. Later, David admitted his skepticism (he’s not the world’s biggest fan of eggplant), but said he’d been pleasantly surprised by the end result.

I can imagine all sorts of additions that would make this grilled salad even better: red bell pepper, slivers of red onion, artichoke, asparagus. This version was even better the next day; I think it will serve us in the future as picnic fare or a simple make-ahead side dish.

Grilled Eggplant and Portabello Salad

1 small eggplant, quartered
3 large portabello mushrooms, halved
For the marinade:
1/2 cup basalmic vinegar
1/2 cup cider vinegar
1/4 cup olive oil
1/4 cup honey

For the dressing:
3 T. balsalmic vinegar
3 T. olive oil
2 T. honey
1/2 t. Kosher salt

1/4 pound fresh mozzarella, cubed

Mix up the marinade in a large baking dish. Add the vegetables, cut side of the vegetables down, cover, and refrigerate for at least a few hours. Turn and stir at least once, to make sure the veggies are soaking up the vinegary juices.

Grill the eggplant and mushrooms until charred and tender, over a medium-low flame, this took us about 20 minutes for the mushrooms about 40 for the eggplant. You can also cut the vegetables into smaller pieces if you like, which will help them to become tender quicker (before the outside is completely black).

Allow them to cool completely. Meanwhile, mix up the dressing in a small bowl: whisk together the honey and vinegar, and then incorporate the oil a drop at a time, whisking vigorously until the dressing emulsifies (thickens and doesn’t separate). Stir in the salt.
When the vegetables are cool, chop them into cubes and toss them with the mozzarella cubes and the dressing. Serves 4-6 as a side.

This veggie recipe is my contribution to ARF/5-a-day Tuesdays over at Sweetnicks. For more great good-for-you recipes, visit her site.

Couscous is an unusual food. It is often referred to as a grain, but in the U.S., it is usually made from semolina, which makes it more akin to pasta. From my understanding, couscous originated in northern and western Africa and appears often in Moroccan cuisine.

I first learned about it through circumstantial necessity and the Barefoot Contessa. I needed a side dish salad to bring to a function at church, and I had less than an hour; as I was frantically flipping through cookbooks, I happened upon this recipe and ran to the grocery. Thanks to the quick-cooking nature of couscous and having most of the other ingredients on hand, I arrived in time and the couscous was a big hit. I’ve made it a number of times since then, and unlike many other recipes that tend to evolve as I make them more often, I tend to stick with the basic preparation for this one. I have slightly adjusted the seasonings and substituted pine nuts and dried cranberries for the almonds and currants called for in the original recipe.

The colors are lovely, the green onions and carrots provide a nice, fresh crunch, and the dressing is light and flavorful without overpowering the tiny granules. This is a great dish to take to events because it can be served at room temperature; plus, it’s even better after sitting for a few hours. At home, I serve it as the main course for a light lunch or as a nice bed for grilled or curried chicken for dinner. It would also make a wonderful dish to take on a picnic.

Curried Couscous
adapted from The Barefoot Contessa

1 1/2 cups couscous
1 T. butter
1 1/2 cups water
1/4 cup plain, nonfat yogurt
1/4 cup olive oil
1 t. cider vinegar
1 1/2 t. curry powder (I use hot madras curry powder)
1/4 t. turmeric
1/4 t. allspice
1 t. Kosher salt
cracked black pepper, to taste
1/2 cup grated carrot
1/2 cup dried cranberries
2 green onions, chopped
1/4 cup red onion, minced
1/4 cup pine nuts

In a saucepan, toast the pine nuts over medium heat until fragrant and beginning to turn golden. Remove to a large bowl. In the same pan, pour in the couscous, butter, and water; bring to a boil, and cook for about 5 minutes and turn off the heat. The water should be absorbed; cover and set aside. In the large bowl, pour the yogurt, olive oil, vinegar, and spices over the pine nuts. Whisk until thoroughly combined. Add the carrot, cranberries, green and red onions, and toss to coat with the dressing. Dump in the couscous and toss again. Serves about 4 in main dish portions, 6-8 as a side.

(Oscar Night Dish #2: more cheesy humor)

When I planned our Oscar-night menu, little did I know that each of my dishes would end up representing a category winner! The Crash martini, of course, is a nod to the best picture. David and I both thought the film was really excellent, but we were surprised that it beat out the other nominees. How I love an underdog.
These sweet potatoes are named for the other big suprise of the evening: Three-6-Mafia’s “It’s Hard Out Here for a Pimp,” which won best original song. (Maybe it wasn’t such a surprise to other people? We just had a hard time visualizing the Academy members voting for gansta rappers. I guess we were wrong!)

Actually, the other thing I was thinking about when I named these was that MTV show, Pimp My Ride. I’ve never seen a whole episode, but some of my students are big fans, so I hear about it. The metaphor is apt, anyway: for this dish, you take plain-jane roasted potatoes, dress them in a glistening, garlic-tinged orange-scented glaze, and they go from tuber-next-door to ghetto fabulous side dish in no time flat. (And now is the time that I refrain from using the phrase bling-bling because I fear that I am getting way too into this whole thing. If only you could see me in my tiara.)

Here’s the recipe:

Pimp’d Out Sweet Potatoes
(or Orange Glazed Sweet Potatoes, if you prefer. Can you imagine ordering these at a restaurant? Ha!)

4 small or 2 large sweet potatoes, diced
Olive oil to coat
Kosher salt
1 clove garlic
1 T. butter
Zest of half an orange
1 T. orange marmalade
1 T. cider vinegar
1 1/2 T. cane syrup or molasses
Preheat the oven to 450 degrees. Toss the potatoes with enough olive oil to coat, and lay them in a single layer on a cookie sheet. Sprinkle liberally with Kosher salt. Roast for about 30-35 minutes, stirring once about halfway through. Meanwhile, melt the butter in a small skillet. Fry the garlic and orange zest until very fragrant and golden brown. Add the marmalade, vinegar, and syrup; cook over medium-low until very thick and syrupy. Take the potatoes out of the oven and pour the glaze over them, turning to coat as many as you can. Put them back into the oven and cook for another 5 minutes. This last step can be done at the last minute, when everything else you’re making is ready.

These potatoes are my contribution to this weeks ARF/5-a-Day Tuesdays over at Sweetnicks.