Thursday, January 27, 2011

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.

Wednesday, January 12, 2011

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.

Tuesday, January 4, 2011

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!

Monday, January 3, 2011

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

IMG_0027

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.