29 May 2011

Chive Blossom Slaw


Mix together 1/2 teaspoon of dried thyme leaves (or fresh ones, if you have them), 1/4 cup of rice wine vinegar and 1/2 cup of good mayonnaise. Pour this dressing over 1/2 small head of cabbage, finely shredded. Add a bunch (1/3 cup or so) of snipped fresh green chives from your friend's yard, along with the pulled-apart sections of 6 to 8 blooms. Mix will.

Garnish with more chive blossoms:

MISSION: Anchiote Paste

Today my friend Valentine is roasting a turkey. It's not your everyday roasted turkey, but Anchiote Butter-Basted Turkey with Ancho Chili Gravy, an Epicurious.com recipe test-driven by her step-daughter, Erika, in California. The key ingredient for the anchiote butter is anchiote paste, which is apparently (according to a number of websites I've visited) available in many grocery (or specialty) stores in the U.S. Internet recipes make that claim regularly, but I don't think the writers are actually thinking about every backwater place in America when they say that.

Anchiote paste is probably available here, in Ohio's Mahoning Valley. I say this because we have a good-sized, vibrant Latino community here. But where to start looking for anchiote paste on a day's notice . . . . . . I have no idea where to begin. Because I tend to have a wide variety of spices  in my kitchen, Valentine gave me the task of creating the anchiote paste from scratch. And I did exactly that yesterday morning.

Using the annato powder Erika sent Valentine, Erika's printouts and written suggestions, and my own research of anchiote paste recipes on the Internet, I came up with the following list of ingredients.  Some versions omit the oregano; some versions omit the coriander. I decided to use both. The paste usually includes orange juice, because of the Yucatan chicken dish it is associated with. I left that out and replaced it with canola oil.

My friend later blasted me for the canola oil decision, but I stand by it. Vinegar (another option) is not only chemically problematic (since it will "cook" fish and poultry without the aid of heat), but it also has a definite, sharp, flavor. Canola oil seemed the most unobtrusive choice. Yes, my 1/4 cup of canola oil did indeed add 2 tablespoons of oil to her share of the paste, and a whopping 166 calories to her entire turkey. (Of course, she could have side-stepped this disaster by cutting back on the 1 1/2 sticks of butter also required by the recipe.) But nevermind that! My best advice, if you are making the Epicurious Anchiote Butter-Basted Turkey, is simply to combine the dry ingredients into the butter directly. Skip the "evil" oil calories and go directly to the butter!) 
  • 1/4 cup annato powder
  • 1 1/2 teaspoons ground coriander seeds
  • 1 1/2 teaspoons cracked black peppercorns
  • 1 teaspoon ground cumin seeds
  • 2 teaspoons dried oregano leaves
  • 1 teaspoon kosher salt
  • 1/2 teaspoon ground clove
  • 6 garlic cloves, minced or crushed
  • 1/4 cup canola oil
All the spices and the garlic went into a container and were whizzed together with my handy-dandy hand mixer. Then I drizzled in the oil, little by little while continuing to blend, until the ingredients came together as a paste.

Our "deal" was that I would make the paste and keep half for my own use. So, after running her half of the paste to Val's house and doing my usual Saturday errands, I came back home to try something totally different with about 1/4 cup of deep red paste, lemon juice, and fish.

Tilapia with Anchiote Paste
  • 1/4 cup anchiote paste (including its 2 tablespoons of canola oil)
  • 1/4 cup lemon juice
  • 4 tilapia fillets
Mix the paste with the juice. Rub the concoction all over the fish, both sides. Place the fillets on a greased baking dish. Bake at 375 degrees (Fahrenheit) for 30 minutes.
Last night, I had this fish with plain rice and a big, simple salad of romaine, grape tomatoes and kalamata olives. It was wonderful. The intense red of the fish makes you think it will be spicy-hot, but there is no chili in the paste, so it's not. Instead, the flavor is very earthy and comforting, and the fish came out moist and flaky.

Simple as it is, this recipe is definitely on my must-make-again list.

25 May 2011

A Post-Rapture Feast, Part 2: Indian-spiced Sweet Potato Soup and Onion & Sweet Pepper Focaccia

Not exactly a glamor shot, this is Indian-Spiced Sweet Potato Soup in a plastic bowl with a big dollop of cucumber raita and a chunk of Onion & Sweet Pepper Focaccia.


Indian-Spiced Sweet Potato Soup

This soup is a pureed vegetable curry, basically. It has a silky texture and is filling without being heavy. I looked at many, many recipes for Sweet Potato Soup, but I ended up creating something a little different, with more sweet potato and more spice.
  • 3 tablespoons vegetable oil or ghee
  • 1 large onion, peeled and diced
  • 5-6 cloves garlic, crushed
  • 2- to 3-inch piece fresh ginger root, peeled and minced
  • 2 tablespoons ground cumin
  • 2 tablespoons ground coriander
  • 2 tablespoons ground cardamom
  • ¼ teaspoon ground nutmeg
  • ½ teaspoon black pepper
  • 2 bay leaves
  • 1 can (15 oz) coconut milk
  • 4 yams, peeled and cut into large pieces
  • 4 cups good quality vegetable stock
  • salt to taste

Heat a dutch oven over medium-low flame; add the oil. When oil is hot, add the onion, garlic and ginger root. Saute until the onion is translucent and begins to brown, about 15 minutes.

Add the spices and the bay leaves. Continue sauteing until the spices are toasted slightly, releasing their aromas. Then, add the coconut milk, yams pieces, and stock.
Lower the heat (as low and slow as you can get it) and put a lid on the pot. Allow the spices to infuse the liquids and the yams to slow-boil until very soft, 30 to 40 minutes.

Remove the bay leaves. Add salt to taste, taking into account the salt content of the broth you're using. Some recipes add a little brown sugar, but I have always found that yams and sweet potatoes don't need need the sugar boost; they're plenty sweet all on their own. Cool for 15 minutes with the lid off, then puree the vegetables with all the liquid using a blender, food processor, or in the cooking pot using a hand blender.

Serve hot or at room temperature with, if you like, a dollop of cucumber raita our sour cream (both of which go great with the aromatic spices) and some bread for dipping.

I found this soup absolutely wonderful, but most of my friends at the Post-Rapture Feast last Sunday didn't try it. Apparently, the food habits of the natives of northeast Ohio do not include the eating of soup on a 80-degree spring day, even if the soup is cold. I was surprised to learn this, being myself from places on Planet Earth where soup makes an appearance on the dinner table 365 days a year.

But that's all right. More for me!


Onion & Sweet Pepper Focaccia
First off, I apologize for this recipe. I've been making bread since 1974, when I was 16. I don't  remember how I ended up with a copy of The Tassajara Bread Book, by Edward Brown, but the book shifted my life in a serious way. I stopped thinking about cooking as a chore to be done correctly, following a recipe, and started thinking about cooking as something much more organic. Overnight, cooking became organic, physical (like dance or swimming) and a celebration of life, contemplation, love. 

Sometime in the mid-80s, when my daughter was a toddler, I quit referring to the book completely yet kept making breads using the same basic method. More and more, I began to rely on my own inter-personal animal instincts (because yeast, after all, are living beings) and took my inspiration for ingredients from whatever bounty or interest came into my daily life--like dried apricot bread (1980s) when we lived in Walla Walla, WA, renting a house with three apricot trees, kaas bread in the Netherlands, where I would always order too much cheese from the wonderful cheese vendor, and crushed hemp seed bread in Youngstown, OH, not because culinary hemp seed is plentiful but because... well...it's available, a great source of protein, and (though perfectly legal) a little bit naughty.

When I make bread, I do not always know or even track the amounts of the ingredients (especially flour) that I use, because I've come to realize over the years that, with bread making, much depends on the weather, the humidity, the room temperature, and the age and quality of the ingredients. Nonetheless, I'll try to explain how I made this:

  • 1 cup warm water
  • 1 tablespoon brown sugar
  • 2 tablespoons dried yeast
  • enough bread flour
  • 2 cloves garlic, crushed
  • 1 tablespoon salt
  • 1/8 cup plus 2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
  • more bread flour
  • 1/4 sweet Vadalia or other sweet onion, sliced into moons (and enough boiling water to cover)
  • strips of roasted pepper (I used jarred peppers preserved in oil)
  • percorino romano cheese
Put the warm water (warm, but not hot, when you splash it on the inside of your wrist, as if testing the temperature of a baby's bottle of milk) in a large, non-reactive bowl. (Glass, crockery, Corningware and stainless steel are non-reactive; aluminum and copper are reactive.) Add the sugar and dry yeast. Stir until both dissolve, then walk away for 15 to 20 minutes.
the sponge

When you come back, the concoction should be bubbly. Use a large wooden (or other non-reactive) spoon to stir in enough bread flour to form a batter about the consistency of thick mud, quick sand, or lava: It should not be thin, but it should still be pourable. Cover the bowl with a damp towel and walk away again.

Thirty to forty minutes later, check the "sponge."  It should be a bubbly, thick mud almost twice the size as when you left the room to do other things. If not, let it raise and ferment a little longer, then stir down the sponge until most of the bubbles collapse.

Add the garlic, salt and 1/8 cup olive oil, stirring in each addition.

Add more bread flour, half a cup at a time, folding in each addition from the outside of the bowl into the center of the dough. The point here is to never cut through the dough with the spoon, if you can help it, because we want to encourage the dough to form long strands of elastic, gluten. Gluten makes bread chewy.

After several additions of flour, you'll need to abandon the spoon and use one of your hands as a tool. Keep adding flour until the dough starts to pull together as a ball.
This dough has enough flour but has not been kneaded yet.
Many bread books will tell you to turn this ball out onto a floured surface for kneeding at this point. I think it's  a lot easier and certainly a lot less messy to continue working the dough in the bowl, but go ahead and turn the dough out onto a floured board or counter, if you wish. I, however, continue in the bowl to kneed--pushing down into the middle of the ball, then folding the dough, turning the dough a quarter turn to the left, then pushing it down again and folding again. I'll add sprinklings of flour when things get sticky. And before too long, the dough has a smooth surface and no longer sticks to the bowl at all. And that's what we want.

It sounds like magic, but actually, it's easy. It's chemistry, it's biology, it's a small amount of elbow grease.

Drizzle 2 tablespoons of olive oil over the ball of dough in the bowl, flip the ball over several times so that the oil covers the entire surface, then cover the bowl with a damp cloth and walk away again for a full hour.

I love the walking away part of bread baking. Set a timer and read a book. Set the timer, tuck it in your pocket, go outside and play with your dogs. Set the timer and do the laundry. Set the timer and do something else. This is the only kind of multitasking that makes sense to me.

While the dough is raising, take a few minutes to slice the onion, put it in a bowl and cover it with boiling water. This will take the onion "bite" away without really cooking the onion.
Onion moon slices blanching in hot water.

When you get back from your hour-long break, the dough will be alive, very happy, and twice its original size. Now it's time to  punch it down (but not in a bad way). Punch down and push all the air bubbles out of it, fold and collapse the dough to its smallest size, then kneed it a few times for good measure. The yeast will love it, the bread will be better for it.

Oil or grease a half sheet baking pan (a.k.a. cookie sheet). Put the dough in the center and roll it out to the desired thickness. Imagine that the dough will be two to three times thicker after baking, and use that image in your mind to base your decisions about how thin or thick to make it.


Once you have the dough rolled out, you can start topping it. Drain the onion and distribute the onion slices over the surface of the dough, then do the same for the pepper strips. Grate pecorino romano cheese, like a snow drift, over the entire focaccia.
Just looking at the last two photographs (above), I can see that the camera picks up what is happening here while you're adding the last touches -- the dough is alive, picking up speed, continuing to expand and lift even in the 5 minutes it takes to add a few toppings and grate a bit of cheese.

Bake the focaccia in a "fast" oven (as my grandmother used to say), 400 to 425 degrees. Leave it alone (don't even peek!) for 30 minutes. Allow it to cook a bit longer, if it isn't yet cooked through and golden brown.

Obviously, you can put any toppings you like on the focaccia. It's basically a thick pizza without sauce or mozzarella cheese.

23 May 2011

Sign of The Times?

A year ago, I was complaining about not being able to find unadulterated chicken in the local grocery stores and feeling very grateful to have found local farmers selling their sanely-raised chicken direct to the public. But times (and the signage) have changed:
New signage in the meat section of the Struthers IGA.
Very nice. However, I've already pre-ordered this year's rabbits, chickens, capons and turkeys from my favorite farmers, so. . . .  

22 May 2011

A Post-Rapture Feast, Part 1: Thai Green Curry & Tandoori-Style Wings

Since Thursday, I've been watching the news and reading Facebook commentaries about the approaching Rapture, predicted to arrive yesterday, May 21, 2011, promptly at 6:00 pm (6:00 pm everywhere). I loved the idea of a rolling Rapture, like a rolling blackout, that ripples around the globe like a 24-hour tsunami. Being 99.9% certain that I'd be one of the ones left behind, however, I didn't change my plans for the weekend. My real concern was this blog. I needed a meal idea that was not particularly fussy or time-consuming (since I have many other things to do and write at home this weekend) but a meal, nonetheless, that is worthy Post-Rapture Party fare.

Inspiration came early yesterday morning, about 12 hours prior to the Rapture in Ohio, when I asked myself whether those being taken up into Heaven later in the day would need wings, or would they rise spontaneously, released from the pull of gravity to float slowly (gloriously!) upward on shafts of brilliant, unearthly light? I didn't know who to turn to for an answer, so I went back to thinking about more practical things, like cooking and writing and making my weekly pilgrimage to Youngstown's north side.

And then it hit me: Those of us left behind will be the ones needing wings! Yes, indeed: Wings, heavenly wings! Baked rather than deep-fried, they'll be the healthier wings of the new millennium.

Thai Green Curry Wings
Tandoori Wings













(We'll need other comfort food, too--a silken soup and some homemade flat bread--sturdy food that will console us for not having been chosen for the ultimate transition team. I'll post those additional recipes--Indian Sweet Potato Soup and Onion & Bell Pepper Focaccia--soon).

Thai Green Curry Wings

  • 2 cups buttermilk
  • ¼ to ½ cup Thai green curry paste (depending on how spicy you like your wings)
  • 2 limes
  • 3 lbs. raw chicken wings
  • salt
  • cilantro leaves (or flat-leaf parsley), for garnish

This is absurdly easy. Add the zest of one lime and the green curry paste to the buttermilk. Pour the green curry buttermilk over the chicken wings and allow to marinate in the refrigerator for at least 3 hours (or overnight),

Line a half-sheet baking pan with foil or parchment paper (for easy clean-up). Set a cookie rack or baking rack on top of the cookie sheet. Arrange chicken on the rack. Bake in a 375-degree oven for about an hour (or longer), until the wings are done.

While the wings are still hot from the oven, squeeze the juice of the zested lime over them and sprinkle with salt (to taste). Garnish with cilantro leaves and lime wedges.

(Today I was too timid with the green curry paste, using only 1/4 cup. For those who like some zing to their wings, I recommend using 1/2 cup of the curry paste instead.)

Tandoori Chicken Wings

  • 3 lbs chicken wings
  • 2 tablespoons each red and yellow food dye (optional)
  • 1/2 cup water (optional)
  • 2 cups plain yogurt
  • 2-inch piece of peeled ginger root, finely grated or minced
  • 5-6 garlic cloves, minced or crushed
  • 2 tablespoons garam masala
  • 2 teaspoons ground cumin
  • 2 teaspoons ground coriander
  • 1 teaspoon ground cayenne pepper (optional)
  • juice of 1 lemon
  • lemon wedges, to garnish
  • coriander leaves or parsley, to garnish
For a really good, traditional red color, mix the red and yellow food coloring in 1/2 cup of water, then pour the colored water over the chicken wings. Keep turning and turning the pieces over until they are a bright, almost obnoxious red. Drain the chicken and discard the colored water. (Of course, the dye job is not really necessary, so skip it if you like.)

To the yogurt, add the ginger, garlic, and all the ground spices. Mix well. Pour over and coat the chicken pieces well, then cover and allow to marinate in the refrigerator for a minimum of 3 hours or over night.

As we did with the Thai Green Curry wings, line a half-sheet baking pan with foil or parchment paper (for easy clean-up). Set a cookie rack or baking rack on top of the cookie sheet. Arrange chicken on the rack. Bake in a 375-degree oven for about an hour (or longer), until the wings are done.

While the wings are still hot from the oven, squeeze the juice of a lemon over them and sprinkle with salt (to taste). Garnish with cilantro leaves and lime wedges.
Wings with a bit of cucumber raita on the side.

15 May 2011

White Bean Scallion Hummus

I love hummus, that garlic-y, lemon-y Mediterranean standard that goes so well with raw veggies, feta cheese and pita bread. Lately, however, I've started thinking of hummus more as a method than a specific recipe. Beans pureed with garlic plus spices (or herbs) and a sour splash of citrus (or vinegar) are really the basic stepping stones for building a healthy, tasty hummus. If you're willing to experiment with the specifics, a whole new world opens up, from Southwest-influenced black beans/chipoltle/cilantro/lime hummus to the South Asian flavors of a lentil hummus jazzed with fresh gingeroot and garam masala.

I've decided that I need to collect my hummus experiments and expand. Between now and the end of the year, I will continue to play with the basic idea--spiced and pureed legumes--and share them here.

I'll begin with this one, which I put together this morning. It took about 15 minutes to make, from start to finish, including the time spent staring into the pantry, trying to decide whether or not to make a traditional hummus to share with my northside friends or to "play" with navy beans and the green onions I bought last week. I opted to use the green onions before they went bad.

Ingredients
  • 2 cans (15 oz.) white beans (cannellini, great northern or navy beans), drained and rinsed
  • juice of 2 lemons (or 6 tablespoons lemon juice concentrate)
  • ¼ cup extra virgin olive oil
  • 6 scallions, white and green parts chopped (hold aside about 1/8 cup for garnish)
  • 3 garlic cloves, crushed
  • 4 tablespoons tahini (or smooth peanut butter, if you don't have tahini)
  • 1/2 teaspoon dried oregano (fresh would have been better, but I didn't have any fresh)
  • 1/4 teaspoon dried thyme (ditto)
  • salt & pepper to taste

Putting It All Together:

Toss everything (except the green onion garnish) in a food processor or blender. Process until smooth. Transfer to a serving bowl and garnish. 

Serve with crackers, wedges of pita bread, pita chips, and/or raw veggies. Enjoy!

08 May 2011

Mother's Day Brie en Croute

Val, who enjoyed the Brie and Peach Até de Durazno en Croute last October, asked me a few months ago about creating a baked brie that wasn't sweet, but savory. Immediately, I thought about substituting a bruschetta topping or olive tapenade for the jam or sweet chutney that is usually found in Brie en Croute. A quick check on the Internet told me that I am not the first to think of this.

I'm an olive lover and so is Valentine, so I decided on tapenade for our Mother's Day brie-in-a-blanket. Tapenade is an olive spread from southern France, great on crackers, toast (bruschetta), or as a condiment in a veggie wrap or a cheese sandwich. Though it's readily available in stores, tapenade is also very easy (if not exactly cheap) to make at home. As with any dish, the key to success is to use only the best ingredients. The method itself is almost brainless.

Mel's Tapenade Provençal
  • 2 cups pitted kalamata olives (canned ripe black olives also make a great tapenade)
  • 2 tablespoons of capers, well rinsed
  • 2 (or more) cloves of garlic, rough sliced
  • 4 anchovy fillets (Be brave! They will not overpower the olives, I promise!)
  • 1 tablespoon dijon mustard (Do not use regular yellow mustard as a substitute. Skip the mustard completely if you don't have dijon.)
  • 1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
  • juice of 1/2 lemon
  • 5-6 sprigs fresh thyme leaves, leaves only
Even though the olives may be pitted, be sure to rough chop them with a knife or squeeze each one by hand because sometimes pitted olives contain pits. Shattered pit shards will ruin your tapenade. Trust me; I learned from experience.

Put everything into a food processor and pulse 8, 10 maybe 12 times. Do not over-process. There should be a somewhat chunky texture to the spread. And that's it. You're done!

(Note: The recipe above makes about 1 1/2 cups of tapenade. The recipe below requires only 2/3rds cup of tapenade.)

Exploded Brie En Croute with Tapenade
  • 1 small wheel of brie (The "mini brie" I used today was 15oz, which was probably a bit too big)
  • 1 sheet frozen puff pastry
  • 2/3 cup homemade or store-bought tapenade
  • 1 egg, whisked

Let the puff pastry defrost, then roll it out a bit. Trim some of the rind off the brie, then cut the wheel through the middle, so that you end up with 2 disks of cheese. Center one disk on the puff pastry. Top with 1/3 cup tapenade. Cover with the second disk of brie, spread it with the last 1/3 cup of tapenade.

Wrap the puff pastry around the cheese decoratively. Seal seams and brush the entire top and sides of the pastry with the whisked egg. Bake at 375 degrees Fahrenheit until the pastry is puffed, flaky, and golden.

This is what happens when you put too big of a brie wheel into too little puff pastry and don't seal it well or turn it over so the seams are on the bottom: It explodes in your friend's oven! (Sorry, Val!) Such things never happen on the Food Network, but they happen pretty regularly here in the real world.


The exploded Brie en Croute was a wonderful addition to our Sunday meal outside in the backyard with the dogs and sunshine and the birds (and, yes, the other humans). While it was still hot, we dipped apple slices and multi-grain chips into the molten goodness. Later, when it had cooled, we tore off bits of the olive-y, cheese-y bread to enjoy with the rest of our meal.

Happy Mother's Day, everyone!