Poor Man's Coq au Vin

I've always felt a bit inherently French. Everyone has funny high school phases (and frankly, I could write a book on funny high school phases) but my longest and most pervasive was my obsession with all things francophiliac. I took French every semester of highschool, joined the French Club and sang loudly along with Edith Piaf records. As a surprise my mother once decorated my hall bathroom in framed pictures of the Moulin Rouge, French-inspired counter accessories and the most beautiful miniature crystal chandelier. (That's a gem of a mother right there.)

My mild obsession has simmered down somewhat to a strong infatuation, but it's no surprise that so much of my cooking style is French inspired. Wine sauces and cream sauces are the base of what I love, what I crave, what I do, and what better armor is there against the cold weather than a steaming bowl of coq au vin?

I've written before about spendthrift culinary pursuits, and it's a necessary part of my college lifestyle. This tends to get in the way of cooking traditional French food. Complicated techniques requiring lots of equipment, uncommon ingredients. I like this kind of challenge, though, and have adapted a traditional coq au vin to be a little simpler and using MUCH less expensive ingredients by applying the same concepts with related ingredients.

Traditionally, coq au vin is made by searing whole skinless chicken pieces in rendered lardon fat, followed by a deglaze in red wine and a slow braise with pearl onions and other vegetables. Lardons can be pricey, and I don't tend to have them just lying around. I use a spoonful of bacon grease saved in the refrigerator to impart the same flavor as the lardons. Of course, if you have yet to embrace the awesomeness of saving leftover bacon grease to add deliciousness to later dishes, you could always just fry three or four strips of bacon in the bottom of whatever pot or dutch oven you'll be using to sear the chicken, then have the bacon as an appetizer!

Secondly: JUST USE REGULAR ONIONS. Pearl onions have never once crossed my mind while grocery shopping. Literally never. Roughly chop a medium onion as a substitute. It will taste just as good. And finally, while whole chickens are not terribly expensive, I don't care to butcher one myself and so I buy a pack of chicken thighs instead. They are incredibly affordable and dark meat offers so much flavor and tenderness that just doesn't come with breast meat.

There is the old adage that you should never cook with wine that you wouldn't drink on its own. This is particularly true in this recipe- because you only need about 3/4 of a cup of wine, and you'll want to drink the rest with dinner.

Simple and brilliant remedies

I am not overly fond of Bloody Marys. I'm a savory foods person- I'll take a second helping of braised beef over a slice of pie for dessert- but when it comes to my libations, I personally do not feel inclined to sip a tall glass of spiked cold Campbell's Tomato Soup. That being said, they're popular amongst some of my friends, so I whipped up a batch once using Spicy V8 juice. And then found myself with a large amount of Spicy V8 juice leftover, with no intention of using it myself- recall the cold tomato soup aversion. What to do, what to do?

The remedy was simple. The remedy was brilliant. The remedy was... chicken tacos.

How, oh how, have I never told you about my chicken tacos? I just had to go back through my entire blog to verify my neglectfulness. This is one of my go-tos, my staples, my crowd-pleasers. Not to mention one of my very, very, very favorite things to cook and eat.

Traditionally in Mexico, chicken tacos are made so very delicious by use of a twice-cooked method. Sear and braise in a sauce; remove chicken, shred, and return to sauce to cook a while longer and really absorb all of the deliciousness.

So let's imagine you've seared your chicken breasts, sauteed some onions and garlic. You're ready to get your braise on. This would be the time you would add water or chicken broth to deglaze the pan. Instead, add a good two cups of Spicy V8 and enough water to cover. You'll still want to add some more seasonings- cumin, chili powder, and the juice of half a lime- but let me tell you, the flavor is fantastic. Rich, tomatoey, fresh. And a bonus: I always make lime-cilantro rice for tacos or any other Latin meal, but on a whim I made the rice with half V8, half water. LIFECHANGING. I now know how to make rice like what is served at Mexican restaurants. Will I ever feel normal again?

So you see: black beans, rice, lots of lime wedges, fresh salsa, sour cream, cheese, lettuce, anything you want on your tacos. I use jack cheese, because I like it best, and LOTS of limes, because I'm a citrus fanatic. And I'm not crazy about corn tortillas so I used flour, but feel free to use whichever you prefer.

Bonus of this meal: For next-day consumption you can toss everything into a saute pan with a little more V8 to heat, then serve mixed-up in a bowl with tortillas on the side. Sure beats microwaving everything separately.

So buy some Spicy V8 juice. Make some tacos, make some rice. Probably be damn good in chili, too. And if you have any left over, invite some friends over for some Bloody Marys. I doubt they will protest.

Eat well, be well

It's a satisfying thing to make a living off of something you're passionate about. Nothing compares to the rush of selling a painting, the knowledge that someone assigns value to something I made. I'm sure my roommate feels a similar rush when she receives her cut from the shows she plays with her band, Smooth Creepin'. (Shameless plug. If you're in the Columbia area, check 'em out.) But not everyone pays top dollar for creativity. And then comes the not-so-romantic part about being a starvingartist- the starving part.

So we've gotten creative with our food. Of course there are the days when dinner is a half sleeve of Ritz crackers with peanut butter, but I simply can't abide by it on the regular. In France, it is common for a cheap meal at a truck stop to be served with house-made pate. Maybe I'm a snob, but I don't understand why food quality isn't just as high as a priority as, say, paying the electricity bill. Both are essential to support a modern lifestyle. And personally, I'd go without air conditioner in a South Carolina July before eating Ramen every night for a month.

So I present to you: Jalapeno Sloppy Joes. Inexpensive, delicious, and delightfully nostalgic.

There were your basic components: ground beef, tomato paste, ketchup, mustard, onion, garlic, worcestershire. But the kicker (in more ways than one- these pack a punch) was sauteing a diced hot pepper (not sure what kind? got it at the farmer's market) and lining a buttered, toasted whole-wheat bun with pickled jalapenos. Soooo good. And less than thirty minutes to prepare from start to finish.

So you're at home, hanging out with your neighbor and her adorable chihuahua Lilly. You've recently considering selling plasma at the blood clinic, but remember that you're dreadfully afraid of needles. You're thinking about the meals you loved when your mom made them. You've got six pounds of hamburger meat in the freezer. Naturally, you should make Sloppy Joes. (At least that's how these came about in my humble kitchen.)

Homemade Joes will put Manwich to shame, and if your spicy tastebuds have matured since loving them as a kid, you really can't go wrong with the jalapenos.

Hi. Are you still there? I hope so.

When I left you with a handful of vagueries and a promise to return in May (and I have! though just barely, I know), I mentioned that I was in sort of a transitional place. I am happy to say that state has blossomed and branched out in ways I had not anticipated, but anticipation would have just ruined so many delightful surprises. That being said, I’m in my new apartment in my recycled home, being very busy, and cooking up a storm. And I am back to blogging, because I care about you so very much, and I feel generally lousy without you in my life.

I’m sorry for the delay. If there is one thing I do not like it is delayed gratification. Yes, yes, I understand the merits of waiting, the whole absence/hearts shebang, but I am admittedly and steadfastly impatient and I want it now, now, now. This is an unpopular attitude amongst more elite food circles, and I do my best to feel properly abashed.

But there come those times when your disdain for one thing must be stifled in order to pave the way for something else you like very much; in this case, pickles. Pickled green beans, or dillybeans as I have always heard them called, and while I was mixing brine and sterilizing Mason jars, I figured I might as well go ahead and pickle the slightly sad looking carrots lying in the crisper.

Here they are, in their garlic and dilled glory. Two of the jars of beans have crushed red pepper added for a kick; the other two are plain, and I'm curious to see which turns out best. And it is certainly lucky that I am not a cat, because I feel certain that my curiosity will be increasing by tenfold before the requisite two weeks pass and I can finally taste the little vixens. Really, though, aren't they beautiful? TWO WEEKS. Sheesh.

So here I am, once again, dangling the carrot (forgive the pun; I was helpless to it) and keeping you in suspense. If there's one thing I've learned recently, though, is that a little suspense is a good thing. Just think about how good that carrot's going to taste.

Dillybeans

This is a classic dill pickling brine that has just enough sugar to make it interesting, but not sweet at all like, say, a bread and butter pickle. Two things I found made my life easier: after making your brine, pour it into a pitcher to chill. Space-efficient in your refrigerator and it's much easier to pour the brine instead of ladling it. Also, I used the pint sized Mason jars themselves as measuring cups for all the liquids.This recipe will make enough for 2.5 lbs of green beans, or 2 lbs beans and 5 carrots. 5 jars altogether, whichever way.

2.5 lbs green beans, ends trimmed

1/2 pint apple cider vinegar

1/2 pint white vinegar

1 pint water

1/4 cup sugar

1/4 cup kosher or pickling salt 

5 large sprigs fresh dill

10 cloves of garlic, peeled

2 tsp crushed red pepper (optional)

Place two cloves of garlic, a sprig of dill, and red pepper if using in five sterilized pint-sized Mason jars. Stack beans tightly up and down in jars; set aside. Bring all other ingredients to boil and stir to dissolve sugar and salt. Pour into pitcher; allow to completely cool. (If your brine is at all warm, your pickles will be wilted, sad little things with no crunch.) After cooling, pour brine over beans, completely covering, and seal tightly with a lid and ring. Best of all, because beans are not highly acidic, processing is not necessary. Just store them in your pantry for at least two weeks before digging in.

If you're using carrots, it takes about five per jar. Just peel them and slice them into thin sticks, something like a healthy, happily orange french fry. And by the way, either of these pickles is a delicious and fun alternative to celery in a bloody mary.

Lone wandering, but not lost

To me, every house I have lived in, though close geographically, has seemed so much like a different world. My life begins, after a while, to resemble a series of postcards sent by different women from the same location. In the life of a migrant, time periods are measured by fleeting things such as houses, haircuts, and heartbreaks. And of course, the meals cooked and consumed, gratefully, throughout it all.

I find myself currently in a transient state, where things are shifting from dream to reality very quickly, and though the end is in sight, the journey is daunting. I have wanted to blog- have thought about it, and started to, many times- but I'm afraid I have been unsuccessful. I owe you the best- you who choose to read- and I don't want to short shift you, so I must announce my hiatus. I will return- in May.

I hope, very sincerely, to see you then.

Don't serve it with a sandwich

For years, I hated any and all cold savory foods. Ice cream and certain pies could be cold if they wanted to be, but if it in any way involved salt, cheese, or especially meat, it must be hot or I wanted no part of it. And I do still feel that hot food should be hot, as in very hot,tongue-scorching hot, not lukewarm. A cousin of mine and I once had a joke that I would be a tiny eighty year old woman shouting "PIPING HOT OR NOT AT ALL!!" at the alarmed waiter taking my order of a bowl of soup in a restaurant.

Things have changed, in that way that they do, and my palate has expanded, in that way that it (thankfully) does. Now, I not only no longer scorn cold food with the fire of a thousand suns, I embrace it and crave it all the time. Chicken salad, tuna salad, deviled eggs, potato salad, and what general consensus presents as the most hated cold food of all: pasta salad.

Pasta salad, like regular hot pasta, is an excellent pantry-clearer and leftover user-upper, and if done right is darn tasty, too. I have two basic kinds of pasta salad I make: a vinegary version loaded with large, chunky vegetables and kidney beans, and a creamier version with tiny chopped vegetables and cheese. Both are delicious. Both are pretty to look at. And both absolutely, positively rely on the homemade dressing for their scrumptiousness.

The one I'd like to share today is the creamy tiny-veggie and cheese variety. It's so simple that it almost makes me a little ill, and so delicious that you will eat it until you are a little ill, too.

I'm sure you know how to boil pasta to al dente, so I won't waste your time or mine explaining it, but I must stress that you do not want to overcook your noodles or it will result in a silly mushy mess that will not be appetizing. Tri-color rotini are my preference- the creamy dressing clings to the ridges and they look so pretty! But feel free to use penne, rigatoni, or even plain old elbow mac. Once you've got your noodles going, go ahead and prep your cheese and veggies.

I had some picky eaters on my hands the night I was making this pasta salad, so as you can see here I only used green bell pepper and carrot. Very nearly mince the pepper; I personally love big chunks of pepper, but for some reason, the tiny pieces are just better in this. Shred the carrot the same size as the cheese. This picture hopefully shows the proportions that are so helpful in this sort of slapdashery: about twice as much cheese as veggies. The cheese pictured here is extra sharp cheddar. Colby Jack is perfectly acceptable too. But save your artisanal cheeses for a place they can really shine, not get masked by a dressing.

Assembly is mind-numbingly easy: mix drained cooled pasta with veggies, cheese, and enough creamy dreamy dressing to completely coat and moisten. The serving of pasta salad, however, is a bit trickier and often botched. First of all, don't serve it with a sandwich. This is an American fallacy that confuses me to no end- why serve a starch side-dish with something involving bread? Serve it with a simple salad, or with fried chicken, or- as I cannot seem to stop doing lately- topped with a scoop of chunk albacore tuna. And there you have it. Lunch, or a light dinner. Provided, of course, that you have no objection to cold savory foods.

Creamy Italian Vinaigrette

This dressing is my standard dressing for this version of pasta salad, but it is equally delicious as a green salad dressing, and marvelous tossed with boiled red potatoes and chives for a tangy potato salad. Excellent for crudites platters or as a tasty spread for a ripe tomato sandwich.

These measurements will make enough dressing for about a half a box of pasta. Double or divide to fit your needs. And as always, the seasonings are all about you, baby.


1 cup mayonnaise (Duke's is the best, I wouldn't steer you wrong)
3 tbsp red wine or apple cider vinegar (I used apple cider because I had it and I like it)
1 tsp Italian seasoning
1/4 tsp salt
1/4 tsp pepper
2 tsp salad or good olive oil
1 tsp sugar

Blend all ingredients in a blender, food processor, or simply with a whisk in a metal bowl. You will want to blend it for several minutes in order to create the necessary emulsion between the lipids and acids (ie, mayo, oil, and vinegar). Taste for seasonings; salt is the most common thing that needs to be added, and can vary a great deal based on what kind of mayonnaise you use.

Option: Lemon juice can be substituted for the vinegar if you like, and makes an excellent sauce for a chilled asparagus salad.

Redemption

Chicken, chicken, chicken. Constantly we are bombarded with it: fried chicken, Chic-fil-A, chicken chow mein. Tyson frozen chicken patties. At times, I feel as though I never want to eat anything with feathers, ever again. La poulet est tres barbant. Give me your steaks, your pork loins, your escargots, but heaven deliver me from chicken.

And then I am reminded, or gently nudged, in the direction of something wonderful, so simply and elegantly delicious, that renews my love for chicken and the French in one go.

As it turns out, I love both chicken and the French very, very much.

I am a loyal reader of the New York based blog Smitten Kitchen, and find every recipe and anecdote to be more delightful than the last. So when she recently posted a recipe for roast chicken with dijon sauce, the idea stuck in my head and I began craving a flavor profile intensely. My end result is absolutely nothing like the dish that inspired it- it's braised, first of all, and the sauce is made during the cooking, not after- but boy, was it delicious. This is my braised version of Chicken Dijon, classic French country food, which never fails to excite me. And it was an excellent excuse to use copious amounts of The Only mustard: Maille Dijon, in HOT.

I started with split chicken breasts, which, being abnormally large, I chopped in half once more with a meat cleaver. Next time, however, I will DEFINITELY use thighs, just because I like 'em, but you can certainly use whatever pieces you prefer, or butcher a whole chicken and use all of it. I would stick to a bone-in cut, however, because if there's one thing my grandmother taught me, bones just braise better. The flavor will be richer, and the sauce will have more body.

The chicken itself I seasoned simply with salt and pepper, then seared in batches in a large roasting pan with olive oil. Go for brown here: You're not looking to cook the chicken, but to create a beautiful brown skin. Remove the chicken to a plate, then add some butter and sautee your aromatics; in this case, onion and garlic. Sprinkle with a tablespoon of flour and let that cook for about a minute so your sauce will be nice and thick. Deglaze with some chicken broth, then stir in a couple of LARGE spoonfuls of dijon. I would wager I used about a third a cup, or a half of one of the little fancy dijon jars. Don't fret about using so much of an expensive product; fine mustards lose their potency after a couple of months anyway, and if you don't use it, it will just result in an inferior product later!

Now that you've got the star of the show on stage, add some herbs- I love thyme and rosemary- and some more salt and pepper. Return the chicken to the pan, along with chopped carrots, and potatoes or other root vegetables if you'd like. (I only had carrots, so I only used carrots.) Then cover and place in a 300F oven for a very long time- about two hours, uncovering for the last thirty minutes to crisp the skin a bit.

Now, here is where the magic happens: When you remove your pan from the oven, checking the chicken with two forks for doneness and fall off the bone tenderness, stir in about one cup of cream or half and half. Cream, obviously, is more desirable, because cream is always more desirable, but if you're like me and you drink coffee every day with half and half and that's what you have on hand- then go for it. Gently nudge the cream around the chicken and vegetables to incorporate it into the sauce, then please, please serve. Rice or another starchy side dish will come in quite handy for soaking up all the delightful juices.

Your house will smell heavenly. Your mouth will water. And maybe, just maybe, you'll decide chicken deserves another chance.

Even if you're not so sure about the French.

Winging it

Being of half-Czech descent (my father immigrated at the age of 11), I have been treated to an interesting set of cultural divides, dissimilarities, and full-on clashes. Some of these- many of these, really- have been food related, ranging from the mildly amusing (my father has been known to call a Whopper a WHOOPER) to the downright disgusting (such as a bizarre, boiled potato and raw flour dish finished with poppyseeds).

However, at least two good things have come out of this Anglo merging. The first is fruit dumplings, a delicious conglomeration of dough, fresh fruit, cottage cheese, powdered sugar, and melted butter. I have yet to attempt to make these, though I think about it. Often.

And the second is schnitzel.

Already, I can hear those of your with Eastern European backgrounds licking your lips. Schnitzel is as simple as you can get, and definitely a peasant dish- the Czech or German version of southern fried chicken. But served piping hot with lemon wedges and a salad, you'll find yourself wondering why you ever wanted anything but simple.

 This is not an occasion that calls for a recipe. I have been experimenting with transcribing recipes down for you type-A people, but honestly it really isn't in my blood. For more particular recipes I will write down a full account, but this is not one of those. I never measure or follow recipes myself, with the exception of one kitchen staple that consistently, embarrassingly eludes me if I don't: rice.

So here are your basics: Pound some chicken breasts pretty thin, about a quarter to a half inch thick. You need to set up a breading station. The above picture illustrates the ideal way, to move chronologically into the pan: Egg, flour, skillet. Before you begin breading, heat a half inch of oil over medium to medium high heat in a large skillet, cast iron if you've got it. I used canola oil, but you can certainly use peanut or another blend, though olive oil would be a bit overpowering of the simple flavor of the schnitzel.

Salt and pepper the chicken breasts, and salt and pepper the flour as well. Stir in a little paprika, too, for good measure. Start with two beaten eggs, mixed with a splash of milk, maybe a tablespoon? Again, no measuring necessary! Trust me, you won't mess this up.

So here we go: Dip the chicken in the egg, thoroughly coating, then each side into the flour, then into the hot oil! The oil should DEFINITELY immediately sizzle when you drop the chicken in. Cook each piece until golden brown and done through, about three minutes on each side.

Then you're done! Just drain them on paper towels, and place on a baking sheet to keep warm in a low oven (200F) if you're not serving immediately. Though why anyone wouldn't want to eat them immediately baffles me. This is vital: Serve with a wedge of fresh lemon for squeezin'. Who doesn't like a little squeezin' now and then?

 So there you have it. Schnitzel just like my dad grew up eating, and that your dad will probably like, too. And trust me, you're fine winging it. I have faith in you.

This is not a recipe.

I just needed to show you this beautiful sandwich.

Leftover prime rib roast, sliced thin, on sourdough, topped with provolone, melted until the broiler, swiped with a quick dab of Duke's (the ONLY mayonnaise) and served with a seriously killer au jus.

Oh, memories.

Make Up Your Mind, Paula

I've been having some trouble with recipes lately.

I'm not a recipe person, generally. I'm a little-of-this, little-of-that, just-eyeball-it person. I know there are you analytical types who like things to be clear and defined, but that has just never been my style. That being said, sometimes you taste a dish that is so wonderful, so perfectly prepared that you don't want one modicum of difference to occur when you attempt to recreate it.

And that's exactly the sort of feeling I had about Paula Deen's Chicken Pot Pie. My mother had made it some time ago, and it clearly was the only contender for the title of Best Chicken Pot Pie, Ever. It had the distinctions of being made with heavy cream and, instead of a traditional pie crust, it was topped with lattice-woven puff pastry.  Yes, PUFF PASTRY. Isn't life grand?

Naturally, when a craving set in for Paula Deen's Chicken Pot Pie, I called my mother for instructions, who is much more accessible than Paula. It had been quite some time since she had made it, and had only a vague recollection of how to go about it. Normally that would be enough; my mother is quite adept at improvising. But this pie was so perfect, so complete, that I didn't want to take any chances. I decided to look up the recipe.

Imagine my befuddlement, then, when upon searching in Paula's Lady and Sons Cookbook, the chicken pot pie recipe I found used pie crust, not puff pastry, and no cream at all. Plus, it contained two cans of condensed soup! That sort of thing would have never been in my mother's kitchen, and it certainly would not be in mine, either. (We both feel pretty strongly about preservatives and sodium.) I determined there must be in existence another Paula Deen Chicken Pot Pie recipe, and a quick Google search confirmed this. I found two more recipes, both on the Food Network site. Only one mentioned puff pastry and cream, so I figured that must be the one. A quick print out, a gathering of materials, and I was ready for some pie making.

During this process, however, I noticed there seemed to be some... holes in the recipe. Things just weren't quite adding up. Like the fact that it called for three quarters of a cup of chicken base. (Just half that amount would be unbearably salty.) The fact that you are instructed to pour raw onions and garlic into a soupy mixture that will only be cooked until "warmed through." I don't know about you, but I don't care to bite into any chunks of raw garlic.

I won't bore you with the details of every minute frustration that entailed in the transpiring of this recipe. I will, instead, give you what I consider the best bits of all of the different versions I found of this pot pie, along with a few common sense adjustments, in hopes that you will learn this lesson the easy way: Basic kitchen skills are far more useful than recipes.

Chicken Pot Pie
Adapted from several versions of Paula Deen's original recipe

1 large sheet frozen puff pastry
1 egg, beaten
3 or 4 chicken breast halves
2 tablespoons cooking oil
1/3 cup butter
2/3 cup all-purpose flour
3 cups heavy cream
1 1/2 cups chicken broth
3  or 4 cloves garlic, minced
1/2 small yellow onion, minced
1 bag frozen peas and carrots, boiled or steamed soft
1/8 tsp grated nutmeg (fresh is sooooo good)
Salt and pepper

1. Preheat oven to 425F. Drizzle a little oil onto chicken breasts and generally season them with salt and pepper. Bake until cooked through, about one hour. When cooked chicken has cooled, remove the skin and discard (read: eat), then shred or chop the meat into bite sized pieces. Set aside.

2. In a large pot or dutch oven, heat 2 tbsp oil over medium high heat. Add the onions and cook until translucent. Sprinkle lightly with salt, then add garlic and cook a little more. Onions and garlic should both be quite soft.

3. When your onions are done, add the 2/3 cup butter and allow to melt, then stir in flour. You're making a roux here- you should have a thick, velvety liquid at the bottom with the onions and garlic immersed in it. Lower the heat to medium low and cook for about four or five minutes, stirring, until the roux is golden but not brown. Add heavy cream and whisk vigorously, turning your roux into a bechamel, which is the mother of all creamy sauces.

4. Add the chicken, cooked carrots and peas, generous salt and pepper, and nutmeg. Simmer uncovered, still over medium low heat, for about fifteen minutes, stirring occasionally.

5. Meanwhile, lower the oven to 350F. Cut the puff pastry into one inch strips, and form into a lattice-top pastry that will fit over the top of your favorite casserole dish. Brush with beaten egg. Bake on a sheet pan about 10 minutes, or until it is puffy and golden. Leave the oven on.

6. Taste the mixture in the pot. Is it seasoned how you like it? Adjust if necessary, then pour mixture into a deep casserole dish. Top with the puff pastry lattice, pressing down slightly so the filling is visible through the holes. Bake at 350F for another ten minutes, to meld the filling and crust together.

Note: Though all of Paula's recipes for pot pie call for chicken breasts, I can't see any reason why thighs wouldn't be just as tasty. You could definitely also use leftover roasted chicken, or a store-bought rotisserie chicken, if you cared to.

P.S.- In reference for this blog entry, I Googled Paula Deen Chicken Pot Pie again. I got two more hits than last time- and one of the recipes has canned biscuits, and the other has you make a biscuit topping with Bisquick. Sheesh. I guess Paula is nothing if not versatile.

Delicious, tangy roses

(Preface: Forgive my absence. There has been a surplus of traveling and visiting in my recent weeks, and a deficit of internet access, and I have not put forth enough effort to reach you. But I assure you, I have been chastised, and with the appropriate amount of chagrin and sheepishness I return to you, bursting with things I just can't wait to share.)

Hi, friends.

When I was eighteen I took my first serving job at a delightful little place called Nonnah's. They were famous for their desserts and cocktails- in fact, most people ordered only dessert, and many people didn't even realize they served real food. As waitstaff, I saw firsthand that they did, including some of the best tapas I have ever tasted, to date. Including a spinach and artichoke dip, spooned into shallow dishes, topped with cheese, and broiled individually to order, served with crusty French bread. I was hooked. It was all artichokes, all the time after that.

Time moved forward, and after awhile I was no longer eighteen and also no longer working at Nonnah's, as these things go. So after months of cravings and grief, I decided to take matters into my own hands, and this is what happened.

 Here, cupped in Courtney's elegant hands, we have three artichoke hearts. Aren't they pretty? They look just like little delicious, tangy roses. And it's no surprised that both hearts and roses can be associated with these tasty little blossoms, because I have often found that there is an extreme connection between falling in love and artichokes. My signature, show-stopping recipe is actually called Falling In Love Chicken, made with an artichoke and white wine sauce. (That's for the future, friends- we don't know each other well enough yet for Falling In Love Chicken.)

This dip will serve you well. It's one of those last minute, crowd pleasing, man catching, admiration gleaning recipes that just can't, can't, can't fail, and makes you love it all the moreso for it. And whereas Falling In Love Chicken is designed to make the eater fall in love with you, personally, this recipe doesn't leave any chance of that. You may as well step aside, because no one's going to be looking at you once it is served- they're all going to be focusing on it,  and how they can possibly get a great deal more of it.

Now, I am aware that there are many recipes for spinach artichoke dip floating around, and even the most pedestrian of restaurants serve it nowadays. But if you haven't had it like this, you just haven't had it. And I think you owe it to yourself, because after all, you deserve the best. So make some today!

Possibly the most wonderful thing about this recipe- besides the resulting product- is the fact that once the initial prep work is completed, the entire dish falls together in a matter of minutes. Cheese, garlic, artichokes, spinach, lemon zest- these ingredients belong together. They want to join forces, and will require very little of you to accomplish this. All you have to do is stir.

Three things I must insist on, for your own good: You must shred your own cheese, especially the mozzarella. Admittedly, I am a cheese snob, but this is not a matter of superiority. It is a matter of facts. Preshredded cheese is coated with corn starch in factories to keep the shreds from sticking together and becoming one unappealing blob in your supermarket. In a recipe that is so lightly cooked- and so cheese-heavy- the extra cornstarch will create a stringy, globular, and somehow chalky texture that you will not like, at all. So just sacrifice the extra five minutes and grate your own cheese.

Secondly, you really want to chop your onion very finely. You don't have to go so far as to mince it, but a large, squeaky piece of onion with throw off the whole experience of the bite you are trying to enjoy.

And third, make more than you think you will need, because you will end up needing it. Promise. (Plus it freezes nicely, too.)

Three Cheese Spinach Artichoke Dip

Remember, as with all things, that everything is up for debate. Not a fan of parmesan? Use pecorino. Find garlic a little noxious? Cut back the amount, or even omit.

1 loaf French bread
2 to 3 tbsp butter, olive oil, or cooking oil
1 can artichoke hearts, roughly chopped
2 packages frozen spinach, thawed and squeezed out
1 cup mozzarella cheese, shredded
1 cup parmesan cheese, shredded
1 tsp lemon zest, finely minced
5 cloves garlic, chopped
1 half medium sized onion, FINELY chopped
2 tbsp flour
2 cups chicken broth
1 package softened cream cheese
1/2 tsp thyme
Sprinkle of nutmeg
Salt and pepper

1. In a large, sturdy skillet, heat the oil or butter over medium heat. Toss in the onions and cooking, stirring occasionally, until almost translucent. Add garlic and cook a few more minutes. If the pan seems a little dry at this point, add a little more oil/butter and allow to heat up, then sprinkle with the flour. Cook one minute, stirring, to get that yucky flour taste out.

2. Pour in the chicken broth, and mix the onion/flour mixture in well with a whisk. Add lemon zest, thyme, nutmeg, and salt and pepper. Add artichokes and spinach. Bring to a near boil, then lower heat slightly and begin stirring in the cream cheese. The whisk will help emulsify the cheese into the liquid. Then add one half of the parmesan and mozzarella.

3. When all cheeses have been incorporated into the mixture and the spinach and artichokes seem evenly distributed, transfer the mixture into a baking dish. Top with the remainder of the parmesan and mozzarella. Broil on high for three to four minutes, or until the cheeses are golden and bubbly. Serve with sliced (and toasted, if you like) French bread.

Note: If you make this recipe in advance, transfer to the baking dish and top with cheese as usual, then heat at 350F for 15 to 20 minutes or until heated through, then broil.

Not a Morning Person

For a person who loves food, I'm not that intrigued by dining out. I love to read about restaurant recipes, and I will watch anything, anything at all that features Anthony Bourdain, but when it comes down to it, I'd much rather be the one cooking myself, or being cooked for by someone who shares my passion. Food is a long, seductive process, and having it served up to me without seeing its humble beginnings and bare state is the culinary equivalent of skipping foreplay. At least for me.

That being said, one meal I enjoy dining out for is breakfast. I think we can all agree that slow mornings are the best mornings, and nothing says leisure quite like pancakes and outdoor seating. Breakfast is also my least favorite meal to prepare, because as the cook, whether it's omelets or waffles, you almost never have the luxury of sitting down to eat as the same time as everyone else, and your scrambled eggs get cold. Bleh.

Breakfast casseroles, in particular make ahead breakfast casseroles, are a remedy to this ailment, and a tactic I have often employed to avoid the cold eggs issue. But what are you supposed to do when, on a sudden whim, with no preparations made ahead of time, you're stricken with an ungodly desire for French toast? And you have two hungry siblings who share this desire?

Well, you make Baked French Toast, of course!

So. You'll need some eggs. You'll need some bread. Some milk, cinnamon, nutmeg. But first, and most importantly, you'll need some coffee.

Ahhhhh. Isn't that better? And don't morning people make you sick?

Now that you're properly caffeinated, you've got some simple steps to carry out. Beat all of the ingredients together (except the bread, silly). Spray a sheet pan with a little cooking spray, and set the oven to 325F. After dipping your bread in the mixture, laying it out on the pan, and topping with a little butter and a drizzle of syrup, you'll set the pan in the oven, and you're ten minutes away from breakfast. That's it! No fuss, no stringing egg all over the counter from bowl to pan, and best of all, no arguing over who has to eat the cold piece.

Baked French Toast

Ingredients
8 slices whole grain bread (Or white. Whatever.)
3 eggs
1/2 cup milk
1/8 tsp cinnamon
1/8 tsp freshly ground nutmeg (I know you're tired of hearing this, but freshly grated nutmeg REALLY is so much better than the preground powdery stuff.)
Dash salt
8 tsp butter, divided
Maple syrup, for drizzling

Preheat oven to 325F. Mix together eggs, milk, cinnamon, nutmeg, and salt. Spray a sheet pan large enough to accommodate all of the bread with cooking spray. Dip each piece of bread in egg mixture, submerging long enough for bread to become thoroughly drenched and a little soggy. Place on sheet pan. Top each piece with 1 tsp butter, set directly in the center, and a little drizzle of maple syrup. Try not to get syrup directly on the pan; it will burn quite quickly, and will be most annoying to clean. Bake 10 minutes, until golden brown, the inside still a little soft.

Note: If you're using a grainier bread, or a homemade loaf, you may need a little more egg mixture to fully coat the slices- just add an egg and another splash of milk.

New old favorites

My grandmother is a woman of wonder. Mother to six children- two girls, one of whom is my mother, and four boisterous, ever-hungry boys- and a force to be reckoned with in her spotless, devotedly Southern kitchen. I think she recognized from an early age the importance of food, not just as a necessary factor for nourishment, but a way to get everyone to sit down, shut up, and truly enjoy the same thing at the same time, at least for a little while. Our family is completely food centric.

My mother shares this same gift, with a different spin. While my grandmother churned out the same basics that her family loved, including enough fried chicken to feed the entire continent of Asia several times, my mother was always trying something new. Coffee rubbed flank steak and chicken marsala may seem old hat to the current foodie, but ten years ago in small southern towns, my mom was a radical. (She remains ahead of the curb now, as well.)

So that's where my food focus is derived from: A love of the classics, but a neverending urge to try new things. And that's exactly what I was doing when I first prepared what has become one of my favorite, favorite, favorite things to cook, Thai Coconut Chicken. When I made this dish for my family while visiting them in Kentucky over Christmas, it became one of their favorite things to eat, as well!

This is a rendition of a Thai curry, which, like all good curries, first starts with spices!

Here, the options are limitless. Your basics are important: Curry, ginger, and paprika. I also like to add a healthy amount of coriander, cayenne red pepper, chili powder, and lately, cumin. Cumin isn't typical of curries, but I love the nutty, earthy bite it adds. Many recipes call for a premade spice mixture called garam masala, and you can certainly use that if you like, but I prefer the customization of making my own mixture. These spices are going to be mixed with a little water to make a paste called a curry slurry (isn't that cute?), which we'll cook in our skillet a little later.

You're also going to need some chicken. I used tenderloins this time, but you can certainly use boneless skinless chicken breasts, and I have used boneless thighs as well. Hooray for versatility!

There are our tenderloins, salted, peppered, and ready for the magic of searing to happen. And see that inviting looking beverage residing in the background? That is a respectable holiday cocktail that I was enjoying while cooking, which maybe explains why this dish is somewhat sporadically documented, photograph-wise.

If you've never worked with a curry slurry before, do not be intimidated. I have complete confidence in you. In the recipe below, you will be instructed to, after searing the chicken, to pour the slurry directly into a pan of hot oil. This daunted me upon first preparing this. Won't it splatter? Will it scorch? The answers are, respectively: Yes, but it will be okay; and no, if you monitor the heat and whisk often. Then, after browning the slurry, and a whole sliced onion (keep those slices large, they will cook down as they braise), you'll build a sauce, return the chicken to the pan, and braise, braise, braise, until it's falling apart and so delicious.

The star of this dish, of course, is the coconut milk. After the chicken braises in a strong-smelling, highly acidic liquid, the coconut milk is added just at the end, smoothing out every bit of harshness from the vinegar, highlighting and amplifying the spices. And served over the lime rice, it is everything you could ever want in new dish, that I hope will become an old favorite.

Thai Coconut Chicken with Lime-Cilantro Rice, a la Savannah
Serves 6, easily

Ingredients
1 1/2 lb chicken tenderloins, breasts, or thighs
1 yellow onion, sliced
4 cloves garlic, chopped
1/2 tsp curry
1/2 tsp coriander
1/2 tsp paprika
1/2 tsp ginger
1/4 tsp chili powder
1/4 tsp cayenne pepper (or more, if you like it spicier)
4 tbsp canola, peanut or vegetable oil
3/4 cup apple cider vinegar
1 1/2 cups chicken broth
1/4 cup sugar
1 can unsweetened coconut milk (lite is fine, but why bother?)
1 cup rice
1 lime
1 sprig fresh cilantro (optional)
salt and pepper

1.  First things first: Prepare your slurry. Combine all spices in a small bowl along with about one tablespoon of water. Mix into a paste and set aside.

2. Generously salt and pepper chicken. Heat half of the oil on medium-high in a large skillet that can be tightly fitted with a lid. Once oil is VERY hot, sear chicken in batches, being careful not to overcrowd the pan. We're not cooking the chicken all the way through here; just establishing a beautiful brown color which will translate to a beautiful brown flavor later.

3. When all chicken is browned, remove to a plate and heat the rest of the oil in the same pan, with the heat now on medium-low. Add the curry slurry and start whisking. It will splatter and pop a bit, but don't be alarmed- just whisk for a couple of minutes, until it has thickened somewhat and smells toasty. The spices will stick to the pan, and that's okay. Add the onions and cook, stirring often, until onions are slightly transluscent. Add garlic; cook a couple of more minutes.

4. Now, we deglaze the pan. Crank the heat back up to high, and grab your chicken broth. Pour the broth into the hot pan. It should hiss and bubble. Whisk, whisk, whisk to pull up all of the browned bits as well as the spices from the bottom of the pan. Turn heat back down to medium-low and add vinegar, sugar, and salt and pepper.

5. Return chicken to pan and cover tightly with lid. This will braise for about 35 minutes, or until chicken is fork-tender and cooked through. In the last fifteen minutes, make the rice. You can use whatever kind of rice you'd like- jasmine, brown rice, or, like I did, plain white rice- just follow the directions on the package. In the last five minutes, add the sprig of cilantro if you'd like for cilantro infused rice. Perfect flavor combination with Thai food! And the best part: When rice is finished, squeeze one half of the lime's juice in and stir to combine. Yum!

6. After the 35 minutes, remove the lid and turn the heat down to very low. Give it a couple of minutes for the temperature to lower itself a bit; if it's too hot when you add the coconut milk the sauce will separate. Open your can of coconut milk and stir it up a bit with a fork, then pour into the pan. Use a spoon to gently incorporate it into the sauce. Squeeze the other half of the lime's juice in and incorporate as well. Return the lid to the pan and cook another 10 minutes. Taste. Are the seasonings right? It's all about you, baby.

7. Serve chicken over the lime rice with plenty of sauce, and plenty of those delicious, tender onions. For a pretty presentation, garnish with a little cilantro and an extra lime wedge for squeezing!

If you've got 'em, use 'em

 Sometimes, it's all about the pretty plates.

Behold. Meatballs. Not just any meatballs, but the most delicious, savory, light-as-air meatballs you'd ever care to taste. The recipe is from The Pioneer Woman so I can't take any credit- well, maybe a little, I basically doubled the sauce proportions to have a more saucy result and added garlic powder and a couple of hefty spoonfuls of yellow mustard- but this meal was special for two reasons. One, because unassuming comfort food was exactly what my hungry aunt and I wanted tonight. Two, because we served the meatballs (and accompanying mashed potatoes and steamed broccoli) in the prettiest, seafoam green, gold rimmed plates you could ever imagine.

The instructions are not complex. You make a standard meatball mixture of ground beef, finely diced onions, milk, rolled oats, and salt and pepper. You form the mixture into balls and brown them. You make a sauce- ketchup, worcestershire, vinegar, etc, and as I mentioned the added garlic and mustard. After browning them, you bake them covered in the sauce at 350 for 45 minutes, or until the smell permeates every corner of your house and you can't possibly bear another moment without tasting them. I let mine cook for a bit longer than the recipe suggested, actually. As I mentioned, nothing complex.

But when you scoop them from their baking dish into the seafoam green serving bowls- and it is a not unpleasant task, fragrant as they are, and so fetchingly brown and caramelized- something magical happens. They are elevated from comfort food to party food. They aren't just meatballs, they're dinner.

Meatballs are not meant to be elegant, and I won't pretend that these were. They were exactly right, comforting and filling and in every way substantial. And true, the dishes had to be hand washed. But we didn't mind- she washed, I dried, and I say, if you've got the pretty dishes, why not?

Tammy's Cream Cheese Mashed Potatoes

This is my mom's recipe for the most delicious mashed potatoes I have ever tasted, and since this opinion seems to be unanimous of all who have tried them, I feel certain I'm not just being partial. This recipe can be doubled, divided, or tweaked to your palate or pantry's desires.

Ingredients
4 or 5 large potatoes, washed, peeled, and cut into cubes
4 oz cream cheese (neufchatel is fine)
3 tbsp butter
3/4 cup milk, half and half or cream
1/2 tsp garlic powder
salt and pepper, to taste

Boil the potatoes until tender. Drain and return to pot. Heat the milk in the microwave about 30 seconds, until hot but not boiling. Add all other ingredients to potatoes and add about half the milk. Begin mashing. (A hand masher works MUCH better than electric beaters, which will result in a gummy texture.) As you mash, slowly incorporate more milk until the desired consistency is reached- you may use slightly less or more, depending on what you like. I usually mash mine pretty finely, but if you like chunks, go for it! Taste for final seasonings and eat up!

Delightful variation, if it tickles your fancy: Prepare as instructed, but add 2 tbsp sour cream, 1/2 cup chopped bacon, and a handful of chopped green onions for a spin on a twice-baked potato, minus the tediousness of, er, twice-baking.

Feast

Hi. I'm Savannah, and I have so many things I want to share with you.

When I bake a cake, I always enjoy the simple pleasure of scraping the batter out of the bowl and licking the spoon clean. I say, why not? It's my cake. And my spoon, most of the time.

I have never been known for my disposition towards moderation. Quite the opposite, in fact. In the most literal sense of the words, my life is feast or famine.

This year, I've decided, will be about feast.

So let's have an adventure together, friends. We don't have far to travel- there's plenty of it already lurking in the forgotten corners of our pantry. Let's peruse the world of the culinary greats before us and make use of my endless litany of secondhand cookbooks. Let's try out ingredients we've never tasted before, let's simplify and master a dish that has always seemed out of our league. Let's take the pretension out of boeuf bourguinon. It's just beef stew made with red wine!

And most of all, let's savor each and every moment together. I want to grab every opportunity I'm presented, culinary and otherwise, and gobble it up with a zeal and gusto unrivaled. I want to leave no stone unturned, no glass unemptied. Because after all, life is too short not to lick the spoon.